in a word, love

Leonardo gives her a moment to elaborate, but it never comes. He cradles her face with his hand and brushes his thumb back and forth across her cheek. She doesn’t open her eyes, but her brows are tense.

“Ah, cara mia. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

Her eyes open, and he sees doubt flash across them. Unlike her, he thinks.

“It’s’ not very kind to say, I’ve realised,” she says softly, “I never want to be unkind to you.”

Leonardo adjusts his head on the pillow so her wandering gaze finally focusses on his, and he brushes the rosiness of her skin with his knuckles. Sometimes he wonders if her goodness rubs off on him whenever he caresses her. He hopes so.

“I could never take what you say as unkindness,” he coos, but her worry doesn’t seem to ease, “What’s got you wound up, bella? Let me in. I wanna know what goes on in that pretty head of yours to give you an expression like that.”

“I just had the thought that…” she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I won't have to grieve you.”

His fingertips finally stop their journey at the tip of her chin, his brows furrowed, “Cara mia, why are you thinking things like that?”

“And you never do?”

He doesn’t answer, “I don’t like when you think like that. It upsets you.”

“I know, but I selfishly can’t help it,” she takes a long breath through her nose, like she’s about to do a run up, “I’m aware it’s horrible, but in a way I’m glad that I’ll be the first to leave. I couldn’t bear any other outcome,” she opens her eyes, “I don’t want to miss you.”

Leonardo suspects she had imagined a different reaction from him. He feels her nails scratching nervously against his scalp, bottom lip between her teeth, anticipating his reply. But he smiles at her, and continues drawing patterns across her skin. Because she was right, he had thought about it too. And he had come to the same conclusion.

“I’m glad too,” he says steadily, “Can’t bear to see you upset, you know that. If that benefit is comforting to you,” he kisses between her brows, “then I’ll take this burden for you. I’ll miss you instead.”

Oh, how his love ran so deep for her that he’d do absolutely anything she asked. He never imagined, in all his amazing and ridiculous dreams, that he’d ever have a love like this. He is grateful to have it at all.

Leonardo can imagine others scoffing at a love so doomed. Sticking their noses up, laughing in his face. He can even imagine some pitying looks, with a hand on his back, and a why on the tips of their tongues. Why put yourself through that?

And his reply?

So am I not allowed to love at all, then?

He’d become defiant of that ‘why’ hundreds of years ago. He’d had much time to think it over, and he’d reached his conclusion.

If he was not allowed this joy, for the simple fact that it is fleeting, then he’d sit in the dark alleyways of life and he’d love. He’d brush his hand against the hand of a passerby. He’d catch eyes with someone from across the room and smile. He’d embrace another. He’d call them ‘lover’. He’d kiss them. If the world decided he shall not love then he shall do so illicitly, with the kindness and rebellion of a man who cared not if that same world abandoned him, for he knew he had his heart and that his heart was full.

And at his trial, he’d stand tall. At the condemnation of his heart, he’d look into the eyes of those who saw his feelings as a crime and him as a prisoner. He’d rattle his chains at them, knowing that he’d feel more love in his lover’s lifetime than they’ll ever feel in their own.

But even that last statement wasn't entirely true, for he’d love her even when she had no air in her lungs. He’d love her even if her heart turned to stone. He’d love her even when she is frail. And centuries after her eyes had closed for the last time, he’d love her. For her, even then.

“When I die, I hope it’s like this,” she croaks, “I hope we’ll be holding each other. I hope I’ll still feel your fingertips on my skin.”

Even then.

***

Leonardo had been keeping a watchful eye since she started living in the mansion. He had heard her footsteps grow stronger, more purposeful, as she explored the halls. He had noticed that the pause between those approaching footsteps and the creak of a door had become shorter, in fact now there was barely a pause at all. And his favourite, was she no longer snuck away back to her own room after their nights together, but rather snuggled up next to him to rest. She was finally settling in. However, he knew there was still some work to do.

“As informative and entertaining as this conversation has been, I unfortunately must be taking my leave now. Can’t leave a lass waiting for too long now, can we?”

He watched her roll her eyes before letting out a huff, “Poor girl. Send her my condolences.”

The comment clearly flew right over Arthur’s head, as he blew her a kiss and slipped out of the room.

Leonardo wasn’t expecting the silence that followed, nor to be met with the back of her head when he glanced up from his book, which he promptly shut and placed it on the table next to him. He waited to see if she would speak first, and when she didn’t, he shuffled over on the sofa and patted the space next to him. The sound finally made her look up, and with a slight gesture from Leonardo, she joined him.

“What is it, cara mia?” She had laid her head on the back of the sofa, and he wasted no time smoothing the hair off her face, letting the strands curl around his fingers before cascading across her shoulder, “You know he just likes to rile you up, you should pay him no mind.”

She sighed, lifting her legs to lay across Leonardo’s thighs. “I know, it’s just moments like that where I realise how differently I see the world than you guys. And I know you all come from different times so none of you really think the same either but,” she let her eyelids droop, sinking into the feeling of Leonardo’s expert hands tracing shapes along her calves and lightly scratching against her scalp. How lucky she is to have the hands of an artist and a genius have their attention fixed on her. “I don’t know. I guess the gap just feels bigger and that makes me feel smaller.”

“I don’t understand how you consistently manage to take the things that make you otherworldly and turn them into insecurities.”

She opened her eyes, only to be met with complete and utter sincerity in the shade of amber, “You don’t understand because you’re an artist. You love those things.”

“You’re right, because they make beautiful art. And who enjoys beautiful art, hm?” When she didn’t answer, he filled her silence. “Let me rephrase that, who doesn’t enjoy beautiful art? Can you think of a single person?”

“I understand your point, grandpa,” she said with a grin, which he easily returned when he felt his words getting through to her, “I just want to be desirable to you, that’s all.”

That statement made him stare a little blankly at her. He knew of her feelings of inadequacy, which he’d promptly tried to squash multiple times before, but undesirable? He doesn’t know a time when he ever lacked desire for her, in fact there were many days where his desire for her proved troublesome. The word “silly” sits on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back. She needed more than a knee jerk comment. She deserved his understanding.

“Cara mia, I’ve been around for a very long time. I’ve seen nearly everything, so nearly nothing is exciting to me now,” his voice lowered, and his head leaned in, “and yet, you fill me with exhilaration even at the mere thought of you. And this is only heightened by how much of you I still have yet to discover. The men in this mansion need to have seen a good thing to finally understand just how good it is. But for me I find-”

Before he could finish his thought, before his hand could finish its journey up her arm and before his lips could reach their final destination upon hers, her eyes widened so wide Leonardo nearly felt reason for concern.

“I HAVE THE BEST IDEA,” she shot up from her place, nearly taking out a pile of her books as she dashed to the door, “THANK YOU, LEONARDO!”

Leonardo was almost dumbfounded at the abrupt explosion, but the thought of mischief he had accidentally facilitated was enough to satiate the disappointment that lingered for only a moment. Nevermind, he’ll prove his previous point to her later.

But for now, he picked his book back up and continued reading, his lips curled in a satisfied smirk at the possibilities of what her wonderful brain would come up with. He knew he was in for a treat, and possibly, so were the rest of the mansion.

He felt smug, however, knowing he would be the only one who’d get to taste it.

***

She flew through the halls of the mansion with ease, her mind fixed on one thing and one thing alone. She reached Leonardo’s bedroom, which had been more or less shared in recent months. She had her own space too, but she simply preferred being in his. She preferred his random, almost illegible notes scattered across his wall, and preferred the subtle smell of pencil shavings, well loved candles and fresh flowers that sat on his windowsill. He only started doing that last one when he met her, she imagined. His room never looked the same as it did when she first entered it, and he never looked more comfortable in it, either.

She left the prickling feeling of nostalgia at the door and immediately moved to his chest of drawers, opening each one with great vigour. Leonardo had always said that anything in his room is fair game, that what’s his is hers. And whilst she didn’t imagine he had this particular item in mind, she felt safe in the assumption that he wouldn’t be in the least bit bothered, as he rarely was.

She had been settling into the mansion for the better part of a year now, and the days of tip-toeing around had long since passed. She had found her place, but too often was she bothered by that prickly reminder that she was inherently different. Not only as the only woman in the mansion, but as seemingly the only one who hadn’t adjusted to the era she found herself in. Certainly the only one was still fighting it.

She enjoyed her talks with Comte over tea, as he was the closest one to understanding her life before, though understanding wasn’t just what she was looking for.

And she supposes that’s how she latched onto Leonardo so fast.

Even though he didn’t have that understanding of what her life looked like before, he had this uncanny ability to trace it back to the root. He reassured and comforted her on things she didn’t realise she needed reassurance or comfort on, but she did. Leonardo knew that. Because he understood.

Everything fell into place after that.

It was easy to find what she was looking for: a pair of trousers she knew he wouldn’t miss. In fact, she doubted she’d ever seen them on him in the whole time they’d known each other. Based on the colour alone, she suspected they were a gift from Comte. Considering the sheer magnitude of their history together, she was surprised by how much they were not Leonardo’s taste. Probably an experiment from Comte. It was sweet that Leonardo kept them, though.

Sweetness aside, and with Comte’s experiment clearly concluded as a failure, she took the trousers and all but marched to Comte’s door. With only a few knocks against the wood, he called for her to enter.

The mischief was clearly written all over her face, as Comte immediately put down his papers and raised an eyebrow.

Her grin was simply delightful as she hid the trousers behind her back, “I have a small favour to ask.”

***

The breakfast hustle and bustle was the same as any other day in the mansion, though with an added buzz as Arthur relayed the events that took place a few days prior.

“Honestly, the things that woman comes up with,” he took a sip of his tea, his ocean irises peaking over the teacup at the man sat opposite to him. He placed it back down into the saucer, leaning back in his chair with an air of pride, “I must say, darling Leonardo, that you really have your work cut out for you.”

“How so?” Leonardo swirled the coffee in his cup with no sense of concern. He knew Arthur was simply playing with him and that he was completely harmless. He very well could have ignored the man, but Arthur needed to be challenged every now and then.

And Leonardo liked to play too.

“You just strike me as someone who doesn’t care for a challenge. As if you can’t be arsed with it.”

“Are you saying she’s challenging?”

Most people would have squirmed under Leonardo’s stare, but Arthur’s eyes only twinkled back at him, “Not challenging, just…troublesome.”

“I thought you liked ‘troublesome’.”

“Oh, I do,” another sip, “very much.”

It seems Comte was the only one to notice the miniscule twitch of Leonardo’s hand and the tightening grip around his cup, as he finally interrupted, “Arthur, I recognise that you’re only having your fun, but I encourage you to be more mindful about how you speak to our newest member of the mansion. She doesn’t know you too well yet, and may not understand your…ways.”

“I think the only reason you find her challenging, Arthur,” Leonardo had his arms crossed on the table, leaning in dangerously, head slightly cocked to one side, “Is because she does such a beautiful job at proving you wrong.”

Arthur smirked, “And how exactly does she do that?”

With gorgeous timing, the door to the dining room creaked open. The tension in the room fizzled out as all heads turned to the figure in the doorway, prompting jaws to drop.

The men were not used to seeing a woman in trousers, but in that split second they had almost forgotten how she’d looked wearing anything else.

Leonardo, with a brain as advanced as his, had already suspected what was happening behind the scenes, but even he was almost at a loss for words. He had seen many, many things in his life. A lot of good, and a lot of bad. A woman in trousers was far from shocking to him.

But she stood so tall, so magnificently powerful and with the cheekiest smirk he had witnessed. The emerald material sat on her figure as though she was carved from marble, as every inch was perfectly tailored to her. The power she held to have silenced a whole room and demanded their eyes’ attention. And yet, of all the eyes in the room, of all the points she was currently proving, her gaze was set on him.

He felt goosebumps tickle his spine.

He spared a quick glance at Comte, who was seemingly taking a sip of his own tea. But he would never be able to hide a smirk behind a teacup from Leonardo.

The sound of her heels hitting the floor echoed in the dining room as she made her way to Leonardo. He stood up to offer his seat, but before he could even utter a ‘good morning’, her lips were on his.

She had always been coy with affection in front of the other members of the mansion, even a simple peck would turn her cheeks rosy. But here she was, hands cupping his face as she melted into him. He didn’t dwell on it for too long, his mind going blank as he brushed his hands against the small of her back and gave her hips a light squeeze. He was moments away from deepening the kiss before she broke it off.

“Are you ready to go?,” she chirped, her smile light and easy as if she hadn’t just turned him into a puddle in her hands.

“I guess I am,” he said, giving her a wink as a silent well played.

“I suppose we’ll see you all later then,” she said to the rest of the room, who’s eyes were still fixed on her.

“Enjoy your Valentine’s Day, you two,” Comte said with a grin, “Behave, Leonardo.”

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying that to, by the looks of it.”

Everyone chuckled, allowing the atmosphere to begin to settle to normal. Arthur, who’s smugness had been replaced by amicable surrender, finally spoke up, “I suppose you win this one, sweetheart.”

She smiled, “I suppose I do.”

Leonardo gave her hand a squeeze, and he felt the tension in her release. He knew that spectacle required some courage from her, and she pulled it off beautifully. He felt at peace knowing she was getting closer and closer to settling in completely, without having to leave any part of herself at the door.

***

Bonus:

Mozart: At least you didn't have to listen to her explain fan fiction.

Arthur: Fan fiction?

Napoleon: It's fictional writing based on existing characters or real people.

Arthur: Oh, so like the Sherlock Holmes collection?

One Friday Evening

Alice stretched out her back after letting the last of her words ink the paper in front of her. The tightness in her muscles slowly subsided as the relief of finishing up her work washed over her. She let the bliss sit with her for a moment, before finally giving in to the urge that had been chewing away at her since she had first sat down all those hours ago - the urge to be with her family.

She descended down the stairs, thick socks meeting wood without even the implication of a sound. Clearly not enough to give away her presence as she approached the kitchen door that was open just a sliver. The gap wasn’t wide enough for her to be spotted as she approached, but enough for her to catch a glimpse of her daughter’s teary face that was being held in her husband’s hands as he was crouched down to her level, his eyebrows knitting together as he studied her expression.

Alice fought every instinct to run in and scoop her child into her arms, as the instinct to hang back triumphed.

“You just have to be more careful, sweetheart. The broken glass can really hurt you.”

It was only then that Alice noticed the shards scattered across the floor a metre or so behind them. Their little girl had a tendency to get a little too excited to properly perceive her surroundings. Not that either her nor Fenrir had any plan to extinguish this enthusiasm, but it didn’t spare them from worry, either.

“I’m sorry,” their daughter squeaked out, which pierced straight through Alice’s chest and left her particularly troubled.

But the way Fenrir pulled her into his chest and quietly shushed her was a balm for Alice’s soul. He let her cry, smoothing her hair as he comforted her.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to. I was just worried. I don’t want you getting hurt, okay? It’s just a cup, it’s not the end of the world.”

Alice leant her weight against the door when Fenrir stood up with their daughter in his arms, gently rocking side to side. She had stopped crying now, but Fenrir gave her a few extra moments before speaking again.

“Did the loud noise scare you?”

Alice could just about see the little nod of her head against Fenrir’s shoulder before he planted a kiss on the top of her head, the swaying never ceasing.

“Things breaking can be scary, huh? It’s a good thing you’re so brave. You get that from me, you know.”

That was the first time Alice had seen her daughter smile since she came downstairs, and the mischief that painted her features told her that everything was okay.

“Nuh uh! Mummy’s way braver than you. I’m just like her.”

Fenrir’s feigned gasp of disbelief had Alice holding in her laughter, much preferring to spectate the scene than giving herself away.

“How dare you, little miss. What about all the times I’ve bravely scared the monsters away in your room?”

“What about all the time you’ve had to call mummy in to scare the ghosts away in your room?”

Alice let the back and forth carry on organically as she watched on, the corner’s of her lips tugging up as fondness filled her entire being. She could see plenty of herself in her daughter, but most of the time, she was all Fenrir. With such unfettered joy for life and a soul that had an energy she would never be able to describe within the limitations of language. All she knew was that it was absolutely delightful.

***

One Monday Morning

“Good morning, Sirius. Have you…sorry, have you seen my husband? I’ve got his…I’m sorry Sirius but what happened to you?”

The rose that crept into his cheeks did very little to mask the garish blue that coated his eyelids and the messy black line across his waterline. It was not the sight Alice was expecting to see when she arrived at the headquarters. He only chuckled coyly, “Well, that would be-”

“Mummy!”

The little girl came barrelling round the corner straight into her mother’s arms, letting out a squeal as she was lifted into the air. Putting two and two together, Alice blew raspberries into her chubby cheeks, which was promptly followed by a string of giggles.

“Hello, trouble. So, what did you do to poor Uncle Sirius?”

Sirius merely laughed, letting himself give in to the silliness. He gave the girl a squidge of her cheeks, unrelenting as she squirmed in her mother’s embrace, though her grin never faltered. “To be fair, I came away pretty unscathed in comparison.”

Alice raised an eyebrow, “In comparison to…?”

It was then that her daughter had successfully wiggled out of her grasp and started to pull at the hem of her skirt, “Come on, Mummy! You have to see my work!”

“Your work-” Alice’s query was cut short as she rounded the corner, revealing both her husband and his best friend. Two unfortunate victims of the same fate.

Though she had to admit, Ray had some beautiful eyelashes; that beauty being accentuated by the many, many layers of mascara that obviously coated them. The blush, too, was very clearly not organic, though she suspected there was a mixture of that too. At least his hair looked the same, save for the few pink hair clips that failed to hold his fringe back.

However, Alice’s jaw dropped when her eyes finally moved over to Fenrir, who had received the full treatment from their daughter. She wasn’t sure how she had managed the green tips of his hair, which also currently stuck up in two pigtails atop his head. To be honest, Alice couldn’t fault her daughter for the immaculate attention to detail, clearly giving her father her undivided attention. He had the whole deal. Her favourite part had to be the pink lipstick that was a splitting match to his hair, and there was at least an attempt of blending the green and magenta eyeshadow, complemented by glittery blue eyeliner. The earring she recognised as her own, too.

It took all of Alice’s concentration and power to keep a straight face as she greeted the King of Spades. She was successful, but only for a short while.

“Good morning, Ray.”

“Do not.”

“I like the-”

“Do not.”

It was only a matter of seconds until Fenrir was on his feet, bounding towards Alice as he always did when she came to visit him at work. As if nothing was different about today, as if lipstick wasn’t currently printing onto his teeth as he grinned at her.

“Hi, beautiful! What brings you here?”

“Hello, gorgeous, I have your lunch.”

His face lit up as he took the bag from her, still no explanation. “I knew I forgot something, thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” she watched a little longer, waiting for him to address the obvious, but it never came. “Fen, care to explain..?”

“Hm? Oh!” he crouched down so their daughter could crawl onto his shoulders before standing back up to his normal height, “Well, a lot of the soldiers are sick at the moment, so we gave everyone today off, but this little miss got bored without any action to watch so…”

His words trailed off, but Alice’s smile only grew. He always let her do the silliest things to him, and always does it with a smile on his face and encouragement coating his words. He lets her have fun.

“Well, you look very pretty.”

Fenrir heard the genuity in her statement, always picking up on the subtleties of her speech. It was rarely what she said, but the feeling he knew she was trying to convey. She was always successful.

“Is that so? Well you’re prettier,” he said, planting a quick peck on her lips, which was promptly followed by a gag from their daughter.

“You guys are gross.”

“Oh, you think this is gross? What about this?” Before Alice could object, her face was being littered with quick kisses, each one ending with a loud smack. She let him do it, as much for the amusement of her daughter’s disgust as the genuine warmth that her husband’s affection filled her with.

She half expected the King and Queen to cringe, awkwardly shuffling away as Fenrir continued to be blissfully unselfaware, but she caught the small smiles on their faces and the endearment in their eyes. Alice often caught them like this, looking on with genuine fondness in their expression. As if they were family. Which wasn’t far from the truth. In fact, Alice would say it was the truth itself.

She gave them both a look. I’m sorry about all this.

They returned it with another. Don’t be. It’s nice.

As she watched them, she didn’t fight the sentimentality and gratitude that began to prick her eyes. For all the times they’d watched their daughter so she and Fenrir could spend an evening together, and for all the times they’d allowed Fenrir to bring her into work on quieter days like today. For the time they immediately accepted the title ‘uncle’ when it naturally left her daughter’s lips, and every time after. For constantly, unconditionally, and without question nor request, looking out for their child and their whole family through anything and everything. Letting her be young, and letting them be loved.

***

One Saturday afternoon

It was in rare moments that Alice saw doubt on Fenrir’s face. One who was always so open and daring didn’t often express hesitation or uncertainty. Alice was sure she should have been surprised at this reaction to her daughter’s request, but in truth, she wasn’t. That was the inevitability of knowing and loving someone so deeply.

“I don’t know about that one, sweetie,” Fenrir finally responded, the fear of disappointing his child dripping in his voice.

“Oh, pretty please? You look so cool when you’re fighting, and you have so many of them! Just one look? Please?”

Their daughter stood steadfast next to Fenrir’s gun cabinet, particularly entranced by the one that stood proudly on the top shelf, and Alice could practically see the panic and conflict rushing through Fenrir’s head. He wanted to fulfil her wishes, he really did. But he was afraid.

Alice placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before running her hand down his arm to intertwine her fingers with his. He turned his head towards her, letting it rest against hers as her chin sat in the crook of his neck, rubbing circles against his hand, “I know she’s young, but she’s just curious, my darling. Share this with her?”

Fenrir let it sit with him for a moment. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t stop the multitude of possibilities and outcomes racing through his head. What if she were to develop an unhealthy attitude towards the guns? What if she became dangerous to others, or worse, to herself? What if she would want to grow up to be like him and join the Black Army, putting her life at risk everyday? What if, taking something so deadly out of the cabinet and placing it into her tiny hands, would mean that she’s no longer his little girl anymore?

But with another squeeze of Alice’s hand in his, and her unwavering presence behind him, he was reminded that all of these were simply hypotheses and they’d always remain just that. That was his job, after all, as her parent. To make sure all the worst ‘what ifs’ were never more than a niggling anxiety, and if his wife’s constant trust and words of reassurance were anything to go by, he was pretty damn good at this job.

So he took his keys from his belt and opened the cabinet, as Alice sat their daughter on her lap. He joined them on the sofa, letting her curious eyes wander over the machine.

“I need you to remember that this isn’t a toy, okay? We don’t play with these, but we can have a look if I’m here. Does that sound okay?”

She nodded vehemently, but clearly taking in her father’s words, “Mhm! They’re only for daddy’s work. Very dangerous!”

Fenrir chuckled, “Correct, but I don’t want you to be scared of them, either. If you’re ever curious about them, you can always ask me. I know they’re very cool, I like them a lot. I’d be curious too.”

Alice remained silent as Fenrir showed the girl the different parts and how they all connect. She watched as their daughter kept complete focus and wonder as she absorbed her father’s words. He let her touch, examine, and even let her hold it for a short while. He taught her the right etiquette and safety measures when handling it, which she took straight to heart.

Alice could see the concern slowly free his features, pride and excitement beginning to fill the gaps. He’d always yearned to share this part of him with one of his own, but he just didn’t know it until now.

Alice smiled as her faith in him was once again affirmed by his actions. She had never doubted him and his ability to raise their children, and she was proven time and time again that she will never be given a reason to.

Even if he sometimes doubted himself, ultimately, she knew that they were always going to be just fine.

***

Alice was brought back into the quiet of their bedroom when she heard a light knock on the door. Her eyes crept open and fell on Fenrir’s, who was also looking back at her with a growing smile. He called out. “Come in.”

And at that, their daughter bashfully slid through the door, her expression still droopy from sleep and her hands clutching her favourite rabbit toy. She rubbed her eyes, shyly looking up at her parents as Fenrir moved to a sitting position. He opened his arms for her, “Hello, sweetie. Aren’t you meant to be in bed?”

She approached him and grabbed his shirt, her eyes never leaving the middle of the bed.

Fenrir and Alice shared a look before he spoke out to her again, “Did you wanna see your little brother?” He chuckled when she nodded sleepily, picking her up with ease, “Come on then.”

He placed her next to her brother, and she wasted no time settling in beside him. “Hi, mummy,” she whispers.

“Hi, baby,” Alice replied with a gentle laugh, “Would you like to give him a kiss goodnight?”

She studied him again and did just that, planting the softest of kisses against his temple. When he didn’t stir, she laid down next to him, her eyes shutting almost the second her head met the pillow.

They knew they probably shouldn’t, but Alice and Fenrir allowed it. Just this once won’t do any harm. They’d let her join the little sanctuary they had created that quiet evening. It wouldn’t feel right without her, anyway.

“Get some rest, beautiful,” Fenrir whispered to Alice, his hands reaching over to hold hers and embracing his children in the process, “I’ll take care of this.”

She didn’t fight his offer, giving him a smile and letting her eyelids shut once again, until Fenrir was the only one left awake.

Not that he felt alone, he doubted that was possible anymore. Not when he had his whole world in his arms, in the golden bath of their bed, under the steady roof of their home.

Fenrir never thought he liked the quiet, but there he found a love so potent he didn’t remember a time without it. One that he hadn’t believed before, hadn’t even seen before. But now he stitched it into his clothes, slept with it next to his head, and laced it into his every action and thought. The proof, solid and declaring, that that love was true, and that it was his.

***

Thank you for reading!! And I hope you liked it, Bekah💛

And that’s why the nights never changed even after he gave you that offer seven years ago. Because whilst you were alone in your bed, he was in another’s. Another girl from the Mitsumono, sometimes Chiyome, sometimes not. You always heard about it the next day from them. And it stung a little more every time, as every time you were reminded that you were the only one he didn’t seek on his lonely nights.

Though you would never fault him for that, you had no reason to. With the vast stretch of time that you’d had together since you met, came a bond that was so abstract yet so firm. You knew himt and he knew you, and there was truly nothing like being known. However, to this day, you never did understand what he saw that day, and in turn what he sees now. Especially when there was one thing that stopped him from knowing you in entirety.

And especially when you have always been a liar.

***

7 years ago, Kai. The day you met.

The guilt was strong, but never quite enough to overpower desperation.

You had just managed to slip into an alleyway, pushing down your heaving breaths as villagers shot past you, none the wiser to your presence. You clutched the bread in your hands like it was your lifeline. And in some ways, you suppose, it was.

“You don’t need to do that-”

It was a reflex, really. You only got a look at his face once you had him pinned to the floor. The face of Takeda Shingen. The son of the Takeda Clan’s leader.

And you currently had a knife to his throat.

But the last thing you were expecting to hear from him was a chuckle. Relaxing above him, he slowly pushed your arm from his neck and peared up at you through brilliant eyes, “I’m impressed. Not everyday you find a princess who can hold their own like that.”

You scrambled off of him like he was boiling to the touch. He stood up slowly as the colour drained from your face, and you tried, impossibly, to prepare yourself for the consequences of your actions. You had stolen from the market, and then threatened the son of a warlord. You weren’t getting out of this without a scratch, and you suspected you weren’t getting out alive either.

However, perhaps even more impossible was preparing for him to pick up the loaf of bread that you had dropped in your panic, brush it off and hand it back to you with a warm smile. Clearly, he noticed your fear and hesitation, as he placed it right into your shaking hand, ignoring your knife wielding hand that shook just as fiercely by your side.

“As I was saying before our little scrap, you don’t need to do that, princess.” When you showed no sign of accepting his reassurance or understanding his suggestion, he sighed softly.

“I’ll be right back.”

It was mere minutes until his return, his smile still kind and his approach gentle. He placed a couple coins into your clammy palm and placed his own on your shoulder, encouraging and without ulterior motive, “Let’s go pay for that, shall we?”

Your instinct was to back away, but Shingen caught you just before the panic realised itself, “Hey, I’ve spoken to the shopkeeper. He’s not angry, I promise. There’ll be no punishment.”

When you wouldn’t meet his eyes, he bent down to meet them himself, the fear trickling out of your muscles drop by drop, “And I’ll be there. I won’t leave you.”

You don’t know what it was inside you that let him lead you to the shopkeeper. Maybe it was his infinitely sweet smile, or the way that his presence oozed pleasance and safety. Or, perhaps, the fact that it was the first time you heard someone sound like they were telling the truth.

And so you apologised profusely to the shopkeeper, who simply patted your back and told you the whole ordeal was forgiven and forgotten, whilst Shingen stood tall behind you – supportive and encouraging.

When you left, you weren’t sure what to do or where to go next. Sure, he’d saved you this time, but this didn’t change your situation. It didn’t change the fact that, tomorrow, you would have to do the same thing again.

But still, you couldn’t let him go without knowing your gratitude, even just for being seen by someone, “Thank you, my lord. You’ve been impossibly kind to me today and…I’m sorry. I’m really so sorry.”

He waved a hand as you spoke, taking out two sweet buns that he had hidden and handed one in your direction. He laughed as your eyes widened, “I paid for them, don’t worry. Please, take it.”

You try to think back to the last time you had eaten such a luxury, something sweet and delightful on the tongue. It felt illegal to take such an offering.

Shingen seemed to disagree, as he pushed the bun into your hand and took a bite out of his own, obviously not taking a declination as an option.

And so you also took a bite, and you weren’t imagining the moisture that lined your waterline as the sweetness settled on your taste buds.

In surprisingly easy and comfortable silence, the two of you finished your treats. Before you could thank him, Shingen spoke up, “Where do you live, sweetheart? I’ll escort you back to your family or partner.”

You must have failed to mask the sorrow that washed over your face and clouded your eyes, as in next to an instance, Shingen knew, which was evident by the way he didn’t press further. He only returned your look with great understanding and compassion.

“Did you know, I’m notorious for keeping my word?”

Not quite understanding his suggestion, he took a step towards you.

I’ll be right there.

“And for having wonderful ideas.”

I won’t leave you.

***

3 years ago, The night of the fire.

“Where’s Shingen?!”

You had burst into the inn where the Mitsumono often met, hair and clothes tousled and eyes wild.

You had been sent on a mission just days before. It was meant to be a quick trip, with only you going, to gather any general information you could. But you’ll never forget the feeling of chilled blood flowing through your veins at the sound of Nobunaga’s emotionless tone, as he revealed his plan to his men.

His cruel, blood rich plan.

“He’s probably with Chiyome or something,” one girl hiccupped, clearly in the amused stage of her evening drink, “we all know she’s the favourite.”

You didn’t even have time to roll your eyes, or to fully acknowledge the slight sting in your chest, “I’m not joking around, I need him right now. Where is he?”

At that the door opened, Chiyome standing alone in the doorway. You had never seen her face so pale, her eyes welling.

“Where is he?”

You could have determined where he was from the second your eyes fell on Chiyome. But you asked anyway.

She swallowed, her eyes regretful and apologetic. She knew you knew the answer. “On the way to the temple.”

You ignored the cries of protest and your name being called out to you as you shot out of the inn. You never let up, you never slowed down, you kept running until your legs and lungs burned.

And yet, when you reached the temple, it was too late.

The flames had already swallowed the temple, leaving it to crumble and collapse in its wake. If there was anyone inside before, there was no way they would have survived. They will have gone down with the temple, clawing and roaring. You tasted bile. You stopped recognising it though after you spotted movement in the corner of your eye, pulling away at the wood that blocked off the outside from the hell inside.

Despite his hair blending in with the flames, you would recognise that man in any circumstance. Maybe even burnt beyond recognition, you would know him in a heartbeat. You were not willing to test this theory.

So as quick as you had noticed the movement, you went to him, as fast as your weary and aching muscles would let you.

You tried to pull him back to no avail.

“Shingen! Please, stop!”

He continued tearing away at the wall, hands blistered and burnt and you could only imagine the pain. On every level.

“Get back! I need to find survivors, go get more help!”

“Shingen, look around you! Snap out of it, you know there couldn’t possibly be any surv-”

“I said get back,” he shot back at you, finally turning your way, his tone sharp and cold and eyes cruel. It all would have sent a chill down your spine, if you didn’t know him so well.

It was over then, though, when he looked back at you. Because when his eyes settled on yours, the fog of rage and searing agony for the people inside had also settled, and he could finally see clearly. And could see that you were right.

“Come away, that’s it,” you said softly, finally able to pull him back from the fire now his muscles had slackened. Getting you both just far away enough to not be at risk of the engulfing flames, you gave him a once over, the only injuries being the burnt flesh of his hand and the shattered pieces of his heart that you could so clearly see in his eyes. You cradled his face, desperately fighting to meet his eyes. He was acting strong, as he always did. As leader, never once did he let himself slip, or let himself falter. He was a beacon of hope and spirit for his people, and he did it so effortlessly. He rarely acted strong, he was strong. But even rock crumbles when hit with enough force.

He finally met your gaze.

“Nobody else is here, Shingen. It’s just us two.”

And so he crumbled.

You tucked his head into the crook of your neck as his arms snaked and tightened around your middle. It would’ve even been uncomfortable, the force with which he was holding onto you, but the discomfort didn’t even register as you raked your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“He did this. I never should have-”

“This isn’t your fault, Shingen.”

“People have died. Innocent, kind people-”

“I know,” you whispered.

“I-”

“Shhh, I know,” you cooed, nuzzling into his hair, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

***

You don’t know when along the way you started lying, but you had your suspicions. Maybe it was when he helped you, or maybe it was when you helped him, that vulnerability you both showed then opening you up to feeling more. But you suspected, most of all, that it was when you first laid awake at night, staring at your ceiling as you longed for the space next to your futon to feel less cold.

But you were his most trusted Mistumono, and his closest friend. The truth wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

“So I’ll be seeing you later, then. I’ll tell Kenshin to stock up on extra sake,” he teased, starting to stand up.

“No need,” you scoffed, “I’ll be on my best behaviour tonight.”

“When are you ever well-behaved, hm?”

But before you could answer, Shingen fell back to the ground after only making it halfway up. You could hear the air catch in his throat, and the wheeze that came with every strangled breath as he clutched his chest. You ran to him in an instant, letting his weight fall into your arms so he could relax. You began pouring him some more tea, ready for whenever his episode had finished, ignoring the pounding against your ribcage and in your ears as you soothed him.

Once the pain had subsided and each breath came easier, he accepted your offered cup and took a shallow sip, eyes avoiding yours.

“Shingen-”

“What a silly man I am, catching a cold in the middle of summer. Yuki will never let me hear the end of it.”

“He already doesn’t…” you whispered, barely loud enough for Shingen to register. But he does despite your effort, evident by the way his eyes finally sought yours.

You didn’t shy away from his gaze. You had heard the odd comment from Yukimura when he didn’t know you were there, and had heard the solemnity in his tone behind closed doors. You’d known for months, maybe years that there was something, and you knew this wasn’t a cold.

You were not the only liar.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Don’t make me come out here and drag you there myself.”

He stood again with far more success than before, but still with a greater effort than was warranted from a man of Shingen’s age and build. You almost stopped him, demanded more answers, but you let him slip out of your home as if he was never there. As if it wasn’t his home too.

And because you let him go, you missed the way he leant against the wall in the alleyway next to your home. The cold brick against his back mirroring the cold sweat that he found himself in, a provoking stab in his chest.

Once he felt recovered enough to stand, he pushed himself off the wall and gave one last look to her door, wishing for that which would never come true. Like every wasted wish he made every night since he first started to feel his body shutting down, bit by bit.

“Not yet, body. Not yet. Not now.”

He began to walk away.

“Not to her.”

***

Everyone’s spirits were higher than usual.

It wasn’t long until there were enough cups of sake drank that they began slurring their words, occasionally knocking into each other, and letting one person who was not drinking so much slip from view. He went completely unnoticed, just the way he wanted.

Except for the one other person who also hadn’t been drinking so much. He was a fool to think she wouldn’t seek him out, not when she was the only one who ever really noticed him in times like these.

“You invited me here and then left the party early? Not a very good host, are you?,” you teased, finding him outside by the pond.

“That was very rude of me, wasn’t it? I apologise,” he said, eyes sparkling and his smile an external display of his inner reality. You returned it genuinely, and he’d never wanted something as much as he wanted to keep that smile that graced your features exactly where it was.

In truth, he also wanted to keep you exactly where you were. By his side, and in his every waking thought. A constant in his adult life, responsible for the countless moments of pure, unadulterated joy. There was a deep rooted comfort and familiarity between you both, an inevitable outcome of the times shared, the journey taken, as well as something he would never have the capability to describe. And when that comfort was mixed with sparks of euphoria at the mere thought of you, and when that time also came when he felt the first signs of his downfall, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep you where you were. Not in good conscience.

“Would you care to join me? Unless you’d rather stay with the party.”

“Well, Kenshin is on his third retelling of the same story, so I think I’ll stick around with you.”

“I’m honoured.”

The quiet was welcomed by the both of you, the subtle trickling of the water and the barely-there breeze were a comfort to the slight tension that hung in the air. It had never been there before, and he didn’t like it.

“I have some news for you.”

His announcement sent a tremor through your composure, obviously hitting a nerve you weren’t previously aware of. You probably thought you’d kept your shock and anticipation below the surface, but Shingen knew you, and he felt you falter, despite it being so small.

“As of tomorrow you can live a free life.”

He felt you falter again. You didn’t even try to hide it that time.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, your last mission was just that. Your last,” he turned to you, his smile kind but dishonest, “after tonight you’ll no longer have to work under me. You’ll be a free woman.”

His words fell on deaf ears, as you stopped reacting to his words after the  initial statement. “Shingen…”

He needed to press on.

“Of course, you won’t have to worry financially. It wouldn’t make sense to just leave you to fend for yourself after so long of working for me. Get out there, travel, discover more interests. Do something for you.”

“Shingen, why are you-”

“It’s about time, I think. You’ve done so much for me and taken so many risks on my behalf, now seems right to let you go-”

“I don’t want to.”

It was his turn to falter then, and only then, after seeing the hurt etched into your features.

“I’m not leaving.”

You hesitated.

“Not until the end.”

And his heart shattered. He supposed he was optimistic to think he could let this get past you. Of course you’d figured it out.

“Sweetheart-”

“Shingen, just tell me. I don’t need details I just…” you didn’t seem to know exactly what you needed, except for the one thing he couldn’t bear to tell you. “How much time?”

There was no use now. The curtain had fallen, the players revealed.

“Not much.”

One lie caught, one lie left. He’d never forgive himself for the hurt he’d obviously caused you, which could have been avoided had he not got so swept up in the impossible.

But you nodded in appreciation nonetheless, and scooted closer to him until he felt his arm against yours and rested your head against his shoulder as you both watched the fish explore the water in front of you. A thought crossed his mind at that moment – that this small section of water was all those fish had ever known, but the thought didn’t bring him any sorrow or melancholy, only comfort. Perhaps because it reminded him of his time with you, and he knew when his time came, he would have been content with the thought that everything he’d ever truly known in his life always came back to you. His only regret at the end of it all being that he’d have to break his promise.

***

Shingen’s honesty was all too accurate.

He entered your house weeks later, and just from his footstep, before you could even turn around to face him fully, you knew.

“Please…” you whispered, moisture already collecting along your lash line, “don’t.”

His voice was soft, “I have to.”

You ran to him, arms tight around his torso and face buried in his chest, his kimono collecting the moisture that ran freely down your face now.

It was slow and quiet around you, as if through its cruelty, life had granted you both this one fragment of peace. Despite what had come before, and what was yet to come tomorrow, you could have this. The cursed pair offered one moment of blessing.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Shh, I know. I know.”

“I never thought it’d actually happen. I never thought we’d have to do this.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never planned to leave you so soon. I wish I could give you more time.”

“Please…” You knew it was pointless, you knew it was selfish and cruel, but you had to ask one more time. For any possibility that the answer would be different. For any sliver of a chance that he could stay, and so you could return his honesty. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

“I don’t want to, but I can’t lie to you anymore, gorgeous.” He pushed your hair back, “I can feel it. I’m out of time.”

And all the while, Shingen thinks back to before this. To when you both were younger. When he was able to carry you home without his lungs burning, to laugh with you without having to force the coughs down. When he could look you in the eyes, tell you “I’ll be right back,” and not be lying.

Your voice was muffled by his kimono, but every word of yours rang loud and clear, like it always had done.

“Are you in pain?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you need anything from elsewhere?”

“I don’t.”

“Then, can you stay just for tonight then? Just…to lay by me. I don’t need anything else, please just stay here with me.”

The answer was obvious.

“I’ll stay,” he gently swayed back and forth with you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head as you continued to weep, his own tears prickling his eyes, “Shh shh, my love it’s okay. I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Simply laying next to each other quickly turned into holding one another, limbs intertwined in an embrace pure enough to melt evil. But none of it was enough to change the fate of two people who simply did not have enough time.

The next morning you left him to sleep in, doing the impossible task of taking yourself away from him and missing crucial seconds that he had little left to offer. But you needed to try everything.

Sasuke was surprised to see you at his door so early.

“I’m so sorry to come by at this hour, but…I need to ask you something.”

He invited you in, and when you declined the offer of tea, he encouraged you to ask the question.

“We don’t know much at all about your life before Echigo, and I completely respect that you keep it vague and private, but I need to ask…” you paused, fearful that the answer would be the one you expected, not the one you craved, “This mysterious place you come from, is there…is there anyone who can help Shingen?”

You were grateful that you didn’t need to elaborate, as it seemed Sasuke understood completely. He took one of your hands in his.

“I don’t want to give you false hope and I need you to understand that with this option comes a great risk, but I’ve been doing some calculations” he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “there might be a way. But we need to be fast.”

***

“I always knew you were a mysterious and clever little thing, Sasuke, but this has exceeded all my expectations.”

“I appreciate you trusting me, Lord Shingen.”

The air was kept light between the three, but none could deny the inevitable uneasiness that hung over you all. It was a huge risk, no outcome was certain nor promised. And because of that, you needed to be prepared for this to be goodbye.

Sasuke mumbled something about meeting him in a few minutes before walking away, leaving Shingen with the impossible task of finding the best way to leave behind the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You took the initiative, though, by taking him into your arms in the same way you did all those years ago on the worst night of his life, and he let himself melt into you just like he did that night too.

“Are you nervous?” you whispered.

“I have no idea what’s to come, but I’m hopeful.”

“That’s good, that’s good. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time you're gone, so come back soon, yeah?”

“Of course, I couldn’t leave a princess waiting.” There was unexpected reassurance in the way you rolled your eyes. Just one speck of normality before your future was put back into the hands of fate herself, especially when she’d never been particularly kind to you both up until now.

You heard Sasuke call for Shingen in the distance, and you knew it was time. You gave him another squeeze, hoping you could pour all of your reassurance into one action before stepping back, willing yourself not to cry so, worst comes to worst, the last image you left with him wasn’t one of sorrow. You wouldn’t do that to him, not when he loved your smile.

Not when you loved him. Even if he didn’t love you the same.

You made your way to Sasuke just in time for the storm to hit. You stood back so as to not get swept up with them, but close enough to get everything out of your last few seconds before uncertainty.

He gave you a smile, his signature Shingen smile that was filled with all the cheek and humour that you were so greatly fond of.

“I’ll be right back,” he teased, but then his smile evolved into one so genuine, one that held something he’d never shown you before, and one that could have knocked the wind out of you. You didn’t know what to think.

“And one more thing, before I go.”

You realised.

“I love you.”

And he was gone.

***

Weeks had passed.

All the laundry had been hung, every surface had been scrubbed, and every floor had been swept. You had visited every friend and you had travelled to every area of the town. You were running out of things to do, to keep your mind from slipping into a place it was magnetised to.

You wanted to worry, as you felt that worrying would stop you from being caught off guard. You would be prepared for anything. But it was the second week in when you realised that nothing could catch you off guard, because if your nightmare was to come true, there would simply be nothing and no one to tell you it was so. He just wouldn’t come home. And even though that thought ate you up inside, feeding on any speck of hope you had left in your body, you had to carry on until there was none of it left.

So you continued to replant flowers, the only thing you could find to occupy your doomed mind.

But it was then, with your hands covered in soil and your muscles aching, that you were in fact caught off guard after all. In the best, most soul-healing way possible. In the form of that which you’d yearned for, long before he left, and long before you’d even known.

“I like those ones. You should plant more, they match your kimono.”

Anything you had been holding instantly hit the ground as you whipped around. You didn’t trust your hearing alone, but now you could see him. He was there, and he was well.

He had kept his promise after all.

You’d never leapt into his arms so fast.

“Hey, woah, easy there, sweetheart. I’m a recovering man,” he said, though it was in jest for he caught you with ease, and if you hadn’t embraced him a second later, the situation would have been reversed and you probably would have ended up in the soil.

You don’t know how long you stayed there, holding onto each other with as much force as you could muster in the glow of dusk, but an eternity could have passed and you wouldn’t have cared. You had him back, and you also had something to do.

You had to ask about the one thing you didn’t even entertain with your attention until he was back in your sight. But now, as you held your breath in fear but also anticipation, you could finally get your answer.

“Did you mean it?”

You could tell that he wanted to crack a joke, to make some eccentric statement that would give him the smile he had missed dearly over those dreaded weeks. But you could see the thought melt from his features, and absolute sincerity replaced it.

One lie left.

“Yes. I have for a while.”

And he was finally caught out.

And with that, you could return his confession. In whole, and in truth.

You took one last breath before raising your head from his neck, already missing the scent that so often brought you great comfort. But you ignored that and cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you peered down at him.

You didn’t hesitate another moment as you lowered your head down, lips a breath away from his as you whispered, “And I love you.”

When they finally met, you cursed yourself for all the time you’d wasted. Because there was never going to be anything like the feeling of his lips moving against yours, his light sighs as reverberating in your head he moved his hand to your hair, bringing you impossibly closer.

At what point the tears had begun was unbeknownst to either of you, but there was not a second wasted in making up for lost time, now that you had so much more of it.

At long last, you could both keep your promise with uncorrupted, unmitigated certainty.

I’m not going anywhere.

***