#obiyukikissdraft

Zen flushed in a gratifying way. "Kihal's fine - although she was sad to miss the chance to visit you. But she couldn't leave the messenger bird trainings."

"I thought that was you, your highness," Kiki wryly commented from atop her steed, "you certainly have spent a lot of time looking out at the training sessions." Her eyebrows raised and the corner of her lips lifted as Mitsuhide appeared to oscillate between amusement and scandal.

Scandal was appearing to win out, and Mitsuhide was opening his mouth to interject when a snowball hurtled out of the trees and struck him squarely in the shoulder. Only his experience in horsemanship kept him upright, and he leveled a righteous glare into the surrounding forest. "Obi!"

The only response was another snowball, this one hitting him in the center of his forehead. As Mitsuhide sputtered and started scrubbing out the snow embedded in his hair, Kiki reached for her sword, placing her scabbard in front of her face protectively as her eyes skimmed the woods. Obi apparently valued his life more than the chance to surprise attack her, as his next snowball whizzed nearly past Zen's ear, painting the tree trunk near him in a splatter of white.

"Obi!" Zen called, his attempt at sounding stern undermined by the undercurrent of laughter in his voice. "Get down here!"

Obi smoothly descended from the trees, landing in a crouched bow in front of them, and looked up at his master with a toothy grin stretching from ear to ear.

Zen shook his head wryly, grinning back at the sight of his immediate knight and friend. "Is that the best way to greet your fellow knights?"

If anything, Obi's grin broadened. "Keeps me in practice, Master. And keeps Mitsuhide on his toes!"

Zen laughed, the sudden tension draining from his shoulders as he relaxed into the saddle; beside him, Shirayuki let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was a blessedly nostalgic feeling to see Obi teasing his master - it was an occurrence that hadn't been seen for the past few months. Obi had taken the dissolution of the romance between second prince and herbalist even harder than the two themselves, for some reason that he had never told her. Although he had treated Shirayuki much the same as ever, albeit with a delicacy for the first few weeks that was better suited to handling fragile seedlings, Zen had experienced what it was like to deal with an Obi who was all business. He had done his job and done it well when his services had been required, but that was the only time he would interact with Zen. Gone was the teasing and quips; the immediate knight's words were short, clipped, and to the point, and then he would vanish with a brisk nod until summoned again.

Zen had tried to be understanding, but his dismay and uneasiness about the situation could easily be read between the lines of any correspondence between him and Shirayuki. In a way, she knew that Obi was just being protective and she appreciated the steadfastness of her friend; however, she wished he could understand that she herself felt that it was for the best. Zen would always be her first love, but the two had grown, both together and apart, to find that their friendship felt more right than pursuing a romance which had cooled and dissolved with the passage of time.

At last, she could see her friends all interact without a blade of sorrow stabbing her in the stomach. And, with Zen, Mitsuhide, and Kiki so far away most of the year, their times together were rarer and even more precious to her than before. She would stomach the sorrow if it meant seeing it, but it was a relief to have it gone.

Obi fell into step beside their horses in his usual controlled lope, the leather of his uniform creaking in time with the horses' hoofbeats in a way that was familiar and comforting.

"Where's your horse, Obi?" Mitsuhide asked.

"Back in the stables."

Zen's attendant clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You really should have it with you on patrol," he said, "it helps when you need to get quickly about the perimeter."

Midori, a new guard just out of Obi's training sessions that had been riding a few lengths behind the others, almost fell off his horse in his eagerness to come forward. "Sir Obi, you can use mi-"

Obi held up a hand and shook his head with a smile. "Not necessary, Midori." He looked up at Mitsuhide. "And when you know how to ride a horse on fortress walls, I'm all ears. Otherwise, it's quicker for me to - "

His words cut off suddenly, and his head suddenly moved to the side with the sharpness of a hawk scouting out its prey. His muscles grew languid as he looked around, before coiling like a panther about to pounce.

Zen frowned, looking around himself. "Obi, what is - "

The next few seconds were a blur. Without preamble, Obi leapt into the air, a flash of black leather and tanned skin as he passed before his master and mistress and towards the trees. The telltale twang of an arrow being loosed plucked the air and Obi's hand closed in a fist as he landed in the snow. "Archer!" He growled as he took off towards the trees, feet barely touching the ground as Mitsuhide and Kiki swiftly dismounted and followed afterwards, with the new guard enthusiastically if belatedly trailing behind them.

Zen, never one to sit back and let others fight his battles for him, swung down and hooked his horse's reins on a nearby tree branch. "Stay here," he cautioned the herbalist before disappearing into the woods.

And Shirayuki, never one for following orders when she felt she could be more of use disregarding them, slid off her mount and checked to make sure her ever present satchel was secured to her waist. She gave the horse a reassuring pat on the nose before making her own way towards the others.

She found them at a tall tree, Zen and his attendants surrounding the trunk and glaring up like hunting dogs who had treed their quarry. The quarry in question was a young man who already looked somewhat worse for wear, his clothing disheveled, a swelling already forming at the corner of his jaw, and his quiver dangling from his shoulder by a torn leather strap. He looked like he was about to faint; the only thing keeping him upright was Obi's tight grip on his shoulder as the knight leaned against the trunk, his other hand clamped on his own upper arm.

Obi crooked his head in question to his comrades down below, who responded with a decisive nod. He coughed before saying with a levity that didn't match the steel in his eyes, "Looks like there's only room up here for one of us. And you're not supposed to be here, anyway, so…out you get."

And then he let the archer go.

It was only a few feet to fall, and the snow was lightly packed so it was cushion enough, but the archer still had the breath knocked out of him as he attempted to stand before Mitsuhide's imposing stance encouraged him to stay still.

"Who are you?" Zen asked the man who had begun to manage a defiant grimace.

"Just a simple archer," he spat, "what is the meaning of this?"

"Why were you shooting at us?" Zen persisted.

The man shrugged. "I guess my hand slipped. I certainly wasn't trying to shoot anyone here, your highness."

Mitsuhide stepped forward. "You don't seem to have anything to keep your catch in, no bag or cords."

A tinge of nervousness appeared in the archer's eyes before he blinked it away. "I'm something of a novice, this is the first time I've gone out hunting."

A tongue clicked up in the tree branches, and they looked up to see Obi shaking his head mockingly down at the archer. "Don't sell yourself short," he interjected, holding the arrows and quiver in one hand while he examined them closely, "this quiver's got some good wear on it, and these arrows certainly look like they were made by someone with experience…" He took the hand from his upper arm, and the dark smears of blood on his palm made Shirayuki's heart stutter. Smoothly, he took the arrows in both hands before snapping them in half. "Oops."

The archer groaned as Obi dropped the quiver and splintered arrows in the snow.

"Couldn't have done that riding a horse," he mused casually, which was met with a snort from Mitsuhide.

Obi then swung himself down onto the ground, his boots landing right in front of the group, sending snow into the stranger's face. The archer flinched back while Shirayuki flinched forward at the sight on the dark stain growing on his armor, spreading from where the arrow had pierced him.

"Obi!" she gasped, stepping forward as her hands reached for her satchel.

He wrenched the arrow out and looked at it with distaste. "I'm fine, Miss," he assured her, "just losing my touch. I used to be able to catch those." He held up his hand so the others could see the line scored through the palm of his glove from the arrow's flight, a red line already beginning to well up. "It barely hit me, but still. I'm getting fat and lazy, how am I going to get the guards to listen to me now?"

Given that the one guard present looked about ready to faint in awe, Shirayuki didn't feel he had much to worry about in that regard.

"We should go," Kiki said, "he may not have been working alone, and we have more resources to persuade him up at the fortress." Her face gave nothing away, and the archer's face paled. Mitsuhide wrenched him to his feet and secured his wrists behind him. Obi gently shook off Shirayuki's attempts to examine or dress the wounds.

"They'll keep until we get inside," he grinned good-naturedly, "and then you can unleash little Ryuu and all the other herbalists on me."

Shirayuki gave in reluctantly, if only to speed up the process so they could return to the pharmacy for proper assessment and treatment. Obi walked behind the rest, keeping watch for any other movements that would give the presence of potential accomplices away. She turned back a few times to check on him, but only got a cheeky wave and grin in response. So she swallowed the persistent feeling that something was wrong and focused on the return trip, letting the familiar cadence of his footsteps calm her frazzled nerves.

Her mind froze for a moment before thoughts began to hurtle past at dizzying speed. She shouldn't be able to hear them here.

In the fortress, in town, in the castle back at Wilant,  the steady clip of his boots striking the floor was a familiar sound that at times provided her with a great deal of comfort. But she wasn't used to hearing it outside, where he could perch on stone walls, jump from branch to branch, or track through grass or leaves or snow with the silence of a shadow.  She shouldn't have been able to hear him.

She felt a bolt of unease, which only intensified as the brisk, efficient pace began to sound much slower and heavier. She couldn’t keep herself from turning as his steps began to loudly crunch behind her, and the bolt became a stabbing fear.

The increasingly loud and belligerent complaints of the archer had drowned out the sounds of Obi’s breathing, but with her eyes focusing on him with clinical scrutiny, she tuned out all other sounds. Shirayuki winced at the pinched look his eyes had taken as his mouth gaped almost laughingly wide, the air whistling in and out of his mouth in shuddering gasps. She gripped her reins hard and pulled her steed into a stop, just like he’d taught her. “Obi?”

Obi raised up a hand to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Miss, I’m - “

And then he dropped into the snow, his limbs splayed out like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Obi!” She screamed, and the others turned in shock as she nearly fell off the horse trying to get down.

“Sir!” Midori cried equally loudly, rushing over to Shirayuki’s side just in time to help her turn Obi over, to expose his mouth and nose to the air.

“We need help,” Shirayuki said, pulling her satchel in front of her, “Midori, go to the pharmacy and bring back a stretcher.”

She was never more grateful for their respective trainings, in hers for her ability to give clear directions despite emotional duress, and in his for his ability to swiftly follow them.

Snow kicked up from the horse’s hooves as Midori rushed the remainder of the way to the university. The others rushed over, paying no heed to the whining of their prisoner as he was dragged along.

Zen took in the figure of his fallen friend, a gleam of fear in his eyes before it reforged into steel. He glared daggers at the man now being forced to the ground at his feet. “What was on the arrow?”

The archer narrowed his eyes in response. “I don’t know what you - “

Zen’s sword sang as he pulled it from his scabbard, and the grips of his retainers on the enemy’s shoulders tightened until their knuckles were white. “Spare us your lies - what have you done to my knight?”

The archer looked around, and was met with fire in Mitsuhide’s eyes and stone in Kiki’s. He swallowed and slumped. “You might as well say your goodbyes.”

“What?”

“The arrows were poisoned at the tip, and I wasn’t given any antidote.” He looked up at Zen with malice. “We weren’t planning on taking prisoners.”

Zen lunged forward with a growl and Mitsuhide blocked him, giving his liege a look and shaking his head. The prince relaxed, somewhat unwillingly, and took a deep breath.

“Luckily for you,” the archer felt the sting of steel against his throat and looked up at Kiki`s unyielding stance and blade, “we do. Although how lucky you are remains to be seen.” Mitsuhide joined her and placed his blade at the other side of the man’s neck.

Zen stood in front and glared down. “What. Poison. Did you use?”

Shirayuki had been listening to all that was going on behind her, as she checked on Obi’s state. Her fingers felt for his pulse (slowing considerably and distressingly thready) and hovered over his mouth to feel the breeze of his breaths. She didn’t let her hand tremble as she pulled the leather away from the arrow wound in his arm and the score on his palm. No infection that she could see…

“Poison,” she whispered as she scrambled around for a moment, trying to find the quiver where Obi had dropped it when he fell. She pulled out a broken arrow, the blasted arrowhead blessedly intact, and examined it carefully. The poison came off on her gloves and she sniffed tentatively. “No smell…”

“I don’t know,” the archer spat, “something to do with frogs.”

“Frogs,” Shirayuki repeated to herself, and shut her eyes and tried to remember if she had seen anything like that in her books. Her heart froze as her mind focused on a page that she remembered Yuzuri showing her. “Curare.”

She could hear the rush of people from the university as Obi sagged into the snow completely.

…

The rush back to the clinic and the pharmacy was a blur for Shirayuki. Between the other herbalists and the onslaught of guards, Obi was quickly swept onto a stretcher and borne to the warmth of the clinic.

Yuzuri ran out to meet them and began jogging besides Shirayuki. “What happened?”

Shirayuki panted beside her. “He’s been shot. With curare. I need the catspaw you brought back from your last trip.” She came to the split in the halls where she had to go one way for the greenhouses and other for the clinic, and dithered a moment. She didn’t want to leave him, but -

Yuzuri shoved her towards the clinic. “Go,” she barked, fear making her voice brisk, “I’ll get the catspaw. You get to your man.”

Despite the urgency of the situation, Shirayuki stumbled, her cheeks burning hot. He's not my -

But Yuzuri was already gone, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the stretcher making its way towards the clinic. She broke into a run and nearly crashed into the clinic doorway. Ryuu looked up where he was setting up bowls and pestles on the nearest table, a cluster of trainees hovering nearby.

“I heard what he was poisoned with,” he said plainly, “and I thought I had better be ready. You can observe,” he continued flatly as he looked towards the trainees, “when we’re finished. This will be a delicate procedure.”

The trainees filed out quickly, and Shirayuki looked at the master herbalist and felt her heart sink at the stress building up between his eyes. She walked over and squeezed his arm. “We can do this. Obi is strong, and we know how to help him.” Ryuu let the corner of his mouth tilt upwards before it sank back into a pensive frown. Somehow the comfort didn’t feel complete without Obi following it with an arm slung around their shoulders.

“Here’s Sir Obi!” Midori yelled as he ran into the room ahead of the other guards carrying the stretcher.

“And I have the catspaw!” Yuzuri shouted as she ran after them, her fist lifted in triumph.

Shirayuki clapped her hands together once. “Let’s get to it.”

As the pounding of pestles started behind her, she took it upon herself to peel away his glove and torn sleeve for easier access to the wounds. A sick feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach as her hands ran over the muscles of his arm that were now relaxed to the point of near stillness. He shouldn’t look like this.

She swallowed hard and began cleaning the skin around the wounds, keeping an ear on the progress of the catspaw poultices. The sleeve kept rolling back over the arm wound and, in a fit of frustration, she ripped the cloth back to the point where pieces came off in her hand.

Oh, she admonished herself weakly, he really likes this shirt.

If you wanted my clothes off so badly, Miss, she could almost hear him saying, all you had to do was ask.

Shirayuki continued to clean the skin, willing herself not to be undone by how badly she wanted him to be awake and saying that to her. A mortar was stuck in front of her and she blinked up at Ryuu.

“We ground the catspaw,” he said, “does it look ready?”

He would know as well as she that it was, but she appreciated what he was doing. She nodded and smeared a liberal does on a bandage before plastering it on his arm, Ryuu moving in sync to wrap the arrow score for safe measure.

“And now we wait?” Shirayuki asked, one hand gripping Obi’s wrist to check his pulse while the other brushed the hair dripping with snowmelt out of his face.

Ryuu pulled up a chair and stared intently at their wounded knight. “Yeah.”

Time passed painfully slowly, although it should really have been just a few moments, as the two kept vigil. Shirayuki kept the twin heartbeats of hers and Obi’s pulsing at the back of her mind, as she wondered what the others had gotten out of the archer. Were they safe? Did they need to grind more catspaw in case of another attack? Where were they? Why wasn’t Obi waking up?

His pulse pushed more and more slowly against her thumb, and she counted under her breath the moments between them. It kept her mind steady and focused when all she could do was monitor the situation and wait. She turned to ask Ryuu to check outside the window to see if anything else had happened when she froze. She wasn’t feeling anything.

“Obi?” She held her hand above his mouth. Nothing. She drew her hairpin from behind her ear and held it over his face, watching the tassels for movement. Nothing. Her heart stopped.

His heart wasn't beating.

"Ryuu!" She barked, and the younger herbalist jolted in his chair. "He's not breathing, and I can't find a pulse." She rolled up her sleeves and climbed up on the bed beside him. "I'm going to start compressions, go get help!"

Ryuu ran out of the room so quickly that his chair overturned. Shirayuki could hear his steps and shouts fading away, but turned them out as she fell into the rhythm of compressions.

Sweat dripped down past her ears as she felt the impact of his muscles and sternum reverberating in her shoulders. He was supple and strong, and she hoped she wouldn't crack his bones. If he had to be bedridden because of this, she would never hear the end of it.

Oh, I'm easy to get into bed, Miss.

She leaned down. One breath, two breaths.

This wasn't right. Obi wasn't supposed to be like this. She had felt the muscles of his chest against her several times over the years they'd spent together, whether it was when he caught her if she stumbled, or when she'd leaned against him to avoid the bustle of a hectic, crowded town square. He was warm and strong and always ready to spring into action. Now he was limp and cold and -

She leaned down. One breath, two breaths.

She missed his warmth. The warmth of his corded muscles that made her feel so safe. The warmth of his ready smirks and smiles when she needed to see them most. The warmth in his eyes when he regarded her, especially when he didn't realize she was looking. The warmth that she had only recently realized filled her heart to overflowing when she saw him -

She leaned down, blinking back tears. One breath, two breaths.

"Please," she whispered as she resumed compressions, the tips of her fingers growing icy as the fear stabbed her heart. "Please, Obi…"

He didn't answer. He had never ignored her before, even when he'd felt brave enough and secure enough in their relationship to have disagreements.

She leaned down, her lips trembling against his. One breath, two breaths.

"Please!"

She resumed compressions, although she could barely see now. The trained professional in her knew that she was fatiguing rapidly and was emotionally compromised, and that for Obi's sake, she needed for someone to relieve her soon. But...she could not bear to let go of him.

She stopped a moment to catch her breath. Her arms were quivering and her compressions were becoming irregular, which was not in Obi's best interest. Her hand felt for his pulse, and found nothing.

"Obi," she whispered, longing to curl up into him and to wake up from this nightmare, "please don't leave me."

She shook the tears from her eyes and steeled her shoulders again to resume pounding his chest when she felt something stirring beneath her palms. She leaned back in surprise and looked at his face, his eyes still closed. She grabbed his wrist, paused for a torturous moment - and then nearly fainted with relief at the weak but steady rhythm beneath her fingers.

Shirayuki slumped forward, resting her head on his chest to hear that blessed beat for herself. His chest rose and fell for a few seconds before he began to cough, causing her to bolt upright. “Obi! You’re awake!”

Obi’s eyes opened just enough for her to see the glint of gold, and he smiled weakly. “‘Course. I couldn’t leave you, Miss.”

Relief and joy coursed through her in a rejuvenating rush, leaving her feeling almost as intoxicated as Roka fruit liquor. The relief was so great, that she leaned forward and, against all medical and rational knowledge regarding a patient recovering from respiratory and cardiac arrest -

Kissed him.

Obi let out an involuntary gasp as Shirayuki nearly fell on top of him, but his heart beat strong - if not a little fast - against her palm as she leaned down. The medical veneer having been discarded now that he was safe, she let her senses flood her as she brought her lips down to meet his. His mouth, windburned and slightly chapped at the top by the harsh Lyrias winters, felt warm and right and perfect against hers. He grunted a little as her nose crashed into his but she didn’t care, her heart jumping as her top lip slid between his. She retracted back apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, brushing her hand across his face.

Then her sense came back and she yanked herself away, color flaming in her cheeks. “Oh, Obi, I’m so sorry!”

Obi grinned up at her as he gasped for air. “You take...my breath away, Miss.”

Really, if he hadn’t been recovering she would have smacked him. She pulled herself back further, hiding her face in her hands.

“Hey,” his voice gentled as he pushed himself up on one elbow. She was so spellbound by the look in his eyes that she didn’t notice his hand winding its way through the tendrils of her hair at the back of her neck. “It’s okay. Besides,” he grinned cheekily as he brought her head closer, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Shirayuki’s eyes widened. Then she blushed as she let herself sink down as he pulled her slowly back towards him. Tears sprang to her eyes as the look of naked adoration in his gaze as he craned up to meet her, sealing their lips together. Although she and Zen had kissed many times over their relationship, this was beyond any sensation Shirayuki had ever known. Their hearts beat in unison, and everything was heat and fire and a feeling like coming home.

They separated for air, and she traced her fingers across his cheek, his jaw, the scar over his eye, revelling in the feeling of warmth and life. For his part, he appeared to have run out of energy to do more than lay back and purr under her ministrations like a contented housecat.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered.

“Never,” he promised, “I’m yours as long as you want me.”

She was about to show that statement the kind of appreciation it deserved, in lieu of the words her heart was too full to speak yet, when the door creaked behind them.

“Is that really,” Suzu asked from the doorway, “the best way to treat respiratory - ugh!”

“Stop ruining the moment!” Yuzuri scolded, removing her elbow from his side. “We waited too long for this! Speaking of which,” she held out her hand, “pay up.”

The next few moments were filled with the sounds of grumbling and gold changing hands. However, the two on the cot were too occupied to care.

***

She had been anticipating that day for a long time – one where she held her head high in front of Izana, the fruits of her hard work over the years beared before him. At times she imagined Obi and Ryuu with her, at others it’d be Zen. It was his side she worked to stand by for so long, after all. And for years that ambition was as clear as day, and if she had to prove herself to a king, then she would.

But when she stood in his Majesty Izana’s office, blinding sun spilling through the tall windows, only grey clouds filled her head.

Izana gently flicked through the final pages of their report, speaking as he read. “Each house you’ve visited in the north has agreed to the plantation of Phostyrias before the start of the next winter.” With a small smile on his lips, he looked up at them as he laid it on his desk. “Congratulations, you’ve successfully completed your mission.”

Shirayuki’s heart lifted, and for a moment she could focus on the joy. “Thank you,” she breathed. “We couldn’t have done it without all the people who believe in the Phostyrias as much as we do.”

Perhaps she was projecting, or maybe the sun was too bright, but she swore she could see Izana’s smile warm.

“Miss and Little Ryuu convinced them first,” said Obi. There was a lightness in his voice that made him sound so gentle that Shirayuki couldn’t help but look at him. “That was the whole point.”

Ryuu stood up straighter. “It was the three of us, together,” he said. “Obi was chosen for a reason too.”

Shirayuki wanted that moment to last forever. The three of them, standing together after all they’ve been through. She had felt so strong then with their support.

Yet so weak, knowing it wasn’t going to last.

“But speaking of Ryuu and Shirayuki specifically,” Izana interjected, “this does bring up our next discussion, and that’s regarding both of your transfers to Wilant Castle as Royal Pharmacists.”

Both, he had said. And Shirayuki’s stomach dropped to the floor.

Izana looked at Ryuu first. “You initially deferred your transfer in order to accompany Shirayuki and Obi on their mission around the north. Now that that has been successful, I expect that you will be transferring within the next month.”

Ryuu nodded firmly. “Yes, your Majesty.”

Izana then looked back at her. “And Shirayuki.”

The skin of Shirayuki’s neck broke into sweat. It was the moment she’d been dreading. The decision. One she thought she already made up her mind on for long but…

If Izana noticed anything, it did not stop him. “Since your first time in Lilias, I have been impressed with your work, your dedication and your potential. And with the success of the Phostyrias throughout its entire process, I believe you’ve proven yourself to me enough.”

It was as though the room centred in on her, caging her, as he said, “I trust that you will do well, as you have here in Wistal and in Lilias. You will be going with him.”

She expected nothing different from his Majesty, Shirayuki thought, that it wasn’t a question. He gave nothing away – neither what he knew nor what he didn’t. All she could give him then, like the first time she ever met him, was honesty, even if it meant those who ever doubted her might’ve been right.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and…

--------------------

“One meatball and one cabbage soup?”

Shirayuki sits a little straighter and smiles as the waitress sets the bowls on the table. She glances across her towards Suzu, who is already eating the cabbage with his eyes, and stifles a laugh.

Suzu deadpans at her when the waitress leaves. “What?”

“Nothing.” Her grin widens as she picks up her spoon. “I’ve just never seen you look at cabbage so intensely.”

“After the amount of vomiting that went on all afternoon, I do not want anything hearty sloshing around in my guts.”

Shirayuki grimaces, but she tries not to let the image ruin her meatball soup. She deserves this. It’s been a long day and they’re in for a cold night. It’s just too bad the amount of complaints from stomach bugs and food poisoning meant the university kitchens would be closed for the night while they figured out what went wrong.

The town swelled with a sudden influx of hungry scholars searching for dinner. But with the snowy winds outside, she and Suzu settled for speed-walking across the town into an inn restaurant they didn’t know instead of waiting in line.

At least there’s a big fireplace, Shirayuki thinks while she lifts the spoon to her mouth. And decent soup. Obi would like it, if he was there.

In-between slow bites, she looks out the window next to her. They’re past the town square, but not so far that the streets aren’t lively. There are a few shop names she recognises from Yuzuri and Kirito’s recommendations. Then, further out and around the corner there’s an inn larger than the others. She sees the sign out front and—

Her heart drops, though it doesn’t have very far to fall. It feels more like tripping up a stair and hitting her knees on the next. Short, but still with a tang of bitterness in her mouth. It makes her frown.

“What are you looking at?”

Shirayuki rests her chin on her hand, gaze still out the window. “That inn across the road. Zen and I got stranded there in a snowstorm that time he came to visit.”

Suzu leans over the table and peeks outside. “Oh.” Then he slowly plops back down awkwardly in his chair. “Haven’t heard about him in a while. I don’t really know what happened after that, but…”

What happened was that Zen’s jealousy got…Shirayuki shakes her head and doesn’t finish the thought. There’s no use going down that road again, thinking about the trespassing and the close calls that almost cost her reputation and the Phostyrias mission. She can only be glad now that neither of those things were lost. But still, in all the years of aiming to stand by his side, thankful for the kind hand he reached out to her that very first morning by the border of Clarines, she didn’t think he’d be a reason for it all to almost come toppling down.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t grateful for Zen. She doesn’t know where she’d be if he hadn’t helped her. But even though they agreed that they’re still important and dear to each other and could still be close friends, they still haven’t written to each other. It was sobering to realise that wasn’t actually new. It made her wonder, underneath all those secret kisses hidden away in forests and between great pillars, whether faith without real communication or trust was all they had. And how long ago it had become that way.

“Maybe after being away from each other for so long,” she says, “he could only remember what I was to him, but not who I was. Like he forgot what it meant for me to stand on my own feet and walk my own path.” Or to fight her own battles and emerge victorious through sincerity that blooms hopes into bright futures, the way she always has and always will.

“Was that the deal breaker?”

Shirayuki turns to look at Suzu’s blank face. He’s not judging, just curious because he cares. So, she nods.

Suzu nods back. “That’s fair.” And he continues eating like the conversation never happened. “So, has Ryuu written from Wilant yet?”

--------------------

 “No.”

The air in the room dropped two degrees. Silent. She couldn’t look anywhere but at Izana, surprise flashing across his face for a moment. But she still had much rather looked at him than either of the people beside her.

Izana smooths his expression into neutrality. “No?”

“I…” Shirayuki looked down at her hands. “I don’t…I don’t know…”

 “Miss?”

She knew it was a mistake to look up at him before she even did it. Her heart wrenched.

Obi’s eyes were wide with disbelief, holding his breath the same way Shirayuki’s was trapped in her chest and clawing at her lungs. “You’re really…?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from Obi’s. It was torture, watching the thoughts of what went wrong and how and what it meant rushing through his head when the decision was hers and hers alone. “If I were to leave for Wilant tomorrow,” she said, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you that that is what I truly want right now."

“You do realise, Shirayuki, that I unfortunately cannot wait for you forever,” Izana said calmly. “And unlike Ryuu, there was no current mission that you can undertake that will allow you to defer your offer.”

The storm still brewed inside her head. She didn’t know which decision would ease the turbulence, but she nodded solemnly regardless. Choosing one. “Yes, your Majesty. I understand that fully.”

They left Izana’s office in silence.

Obi lingered by the door as it closed behind them. “Is it because of Master?”

Shirayuki stopped. As she stared into no particular space in front of her, Ryuu excused himself and left in the direction of the pharmacy.

It was a lie to say no, but yes wasn’t entirely accurate either. There was more to it that she couldn’t explain.

“I thought that even though your understanding is over,” Obi murmured, “you’re still important to each other. That’s what you said, didn’t you?”

Shirayuki turned around. “We did. It’s just…It’s just that things have changed. I can’t act like I know for certain that what I want now is the same as before, as if I love Zen like I used to. Because I…” She looked down at the ground, defeated. “I’m sorry, Obi. I know you wished for our happiness for all these years.”

Obi’s footsteps drew closer, his shadow right behind. When Shirayuki looked up at him, he was smiling at her sadly.

“But above all else, Miss, I wish for yours.”

--------------------

It’s been a month since then.

Ryuu’s absence is deafening. Shirayuki still looks to her side, searching for his thoughts written in the way he furrows his eyebrows and the sharp focus of his gaze.

She never really talked to Obi about her decision, neither before nor after that morning in Izana’s office. She feels like a bad friend for not. She wants to, if only she can fully explain with words the heavy confusion that rolls inside her gut.

She’s been wandering back-and-forth through the halls of Lilias like a ghost. Without any new research to undertake, she’s been picking up extra shifts in the pharmacy and spending long nights in the library studying. But it doesn’t fill the void she’s trapped in. It’s as though there are cracks in the mirror where she sees herself, a whole piece that’s gone missing right where her eyes are supposed to be. Where she now finds nothing when she tries to look forward.

--------------------

The front door to the dormitories shuts out the snowy winds. As they catch their breath, Shirayuki and Suzu shake the snow out of their hair and off their coats. She can feel the warmth of the lanterns in the hallway seeping into her skin, little by little.

Suzu unwraps his scarf from his neck. “Well, I’m heading straight to bed. I’ll see you at the pharmacy tomorrow morning?”

Shirayuki smiles and nods. “Yeah. See you. And thanks for inviting me out today.”

“No problem,” he says, backing towards the left hallway that leads to his room.

Then Shirayuki is alone again, storm raging on and all.

--------------------

She draws her hand away from Obi’s door.

She worries her lip and steps back. She feels so…silly, turning up at his door again at night. She just wants to feel like things are normal, like they can talk for hours and sleep in the same bed when it’s cold. Like there’s nothing she’s keeping from him.

Why is it suddenly so hard?

She huffs and turns away, tugging the ends of her nightgown sleeves over her hands. He’s sleeping, she thinks. But she takes two steps down the hall when suddenly the door clicks and creaks open. “Miss?”

Obi’s voice is but a husk, and Shirayuki turns around again, apology already on her tongue. “I’m sorry, I know you have an early morning tomorrow so just…forget that I—”

“You know that I don’t mind, Miss.” he says softly. “All you have to do is knock.”

Obi steps back as Shirayuki enters his room. Pitch black envelops it as he closes the door behind her, but even though she can’t see, it’s only a matter of seconds before she crawls onto the bed and snuggles into his blankets.

In the darkness, Obi’s laugh is a low rumble, warm like summer lightning. “You know, a man’s going to get ideas when you keep turning up to his room late at night like this.”

The bed dips next to her. Obi is barely under the blankets when Shirayuki instinctively entwines their ankles, and he wraps an arm around her shoulder. His body is a furnace – Shirayuki’s close to falling asleep right then and there, but she fights it. She wants to tell him. She wants him to know. “Obi?”

Her eyes are still adjusting to the dark, but she can see that Obi opens his and looks at her. Waiting patiently.

He’s always so good to her it…it almost doesn’t feel fair anymore. “Can I be honest with you about something?”

His breathing stills. “What is it?”

Even though they’re so close now, she can’t help but think about how far away from him she felt in that morning inside Izana’s office. When she had told him no. And the way Obi had looked at her…

“I feel like I’ve made a mistake, telling Izana I didn’t want to go to Wilant,” she says. “Not because I want to go now, but…” She breathes deep, lets the air slowly fill her chest. “I spent so long working, trying to prove myself to people so that I could stand by Zen’s side because I…I loved him. But now I don’t and I just…don’t know what to do next.”

She feels like she’s floating in a dark void, not knowing where she is or how she can move. She hates the way it makes her feel. Like she’s…

It hits her. And she whispers, “I feel lost because it’s only about me now. Not me and Zen, just me.”

Shirayuki’s eyes flicker up to Obi’s. He’s staring back at her, eyes as wide as hers.

Suddenly it seems so obvious that Shirayuki can’t help but laugh at herself. “Goodness, how was that so hard? It’s been years since I only needed to think about what I wanted, and what was good for me. But now that I’m not chasing Zen, I’ve turned away the exact thing I came here for in the first place and now I’m just…lost.”

“And I’m sorry I haven’t talked about it with you until now,” she blurts. “I knew you were upset about Zen and me. I just felt like…” Her voice lowers. The shakiness in it is one she doesn’t recognise. “I was afraid that you were going to be disappointed in me.”

“No, no – I’d never…” he breathes. “I didn’t know it was going to change your decision. But like I told you then, I wish for your happiness more than anything else. I didn’t want you to be sad alone.”

Tears prick at Shirayuki’s eyes. She blinks them away, but her heart swells regardless as she rests her forehead against his chest. “Thank you.”

A hitch catches in Obi’s throat. But with a slow exhale, he softens against her. “We don’t always know where we’re going, but sometimes we end up staying in places we never thought we would.”

“I may had worked to prove myself to Izana,” she says, “but I also worked to prove myself here, in Lilias. I’ve made friends for a lifetime and been challenged in ways I never would’ve imagined when I was back in Tanbarun.”

She feels Obi smile into her hair. “Yeah. Exactly.”

His heart beats softly against the palm of her hand. If she moves it up, she’d touch the scar on his chest. But instead she wraps her arm around his side and pulls herself closer to his chest, breathes deeply of the smell of warm, brown earth, sighing.

Closer now, Obi’s fingers are still against her back. But slowly, he exhales, fingers shyly playing with the long strands of her hair.

“I know you don’t talk about Tanbarun much,” Obi murmurs. “But what things did you look forward to back then?”

Shirayuki hums, pondering. “I would just try to help the customers who came in each day. I made sure I had the supplies and the money to make it to the next one. It wasn’t anything big, but it was already enough to keep me busy.”

“But were you happy?”

She thinks about the open fields on the outskirts of town, of wildflowers and the deep forests of her childhood, of the smiles of the villagers and their good health. Of healing.

The thoughts make her smile from somewhere light, deep in her heart. “Yeah.”

She supposes that it’s not all different from back then. Instead of breezy winds, she wakes up to snow under the soles of her boots and sees colour return to the faces of soldiers and exhausted academics. Her forests have been replaced with libraries. Solitude with company.

She doesn’t have to run forward to reach for the next place in her life just yet. For now, she can just be.

--------------------

The storm has calmed by the next morning.

Shirayuki cracks her eyes open one at a time, waking up wrapped in blankets and Obi’s limbs. It’s a little brighter than expected for this time of year, but she’s not complaining.

Outside, Lilias’ bell tower chimes throughout the campus. She counts the great tones under her breath, letting the sound wake her.

When there’s one more bell than there should be, she gasps and starts furiously tapping Obi’s shoulder. “Obi, wake up!”

He groans. “Five more minutes, Miss…”

“We can’t, it’s already eight!” She snakes out of Obi’s arms and out of the bed, padding towards his window to throw open the curtains. Sunlight spills into the room. Obi rolls onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes, groaning more. To an exaggerated degree, even.

She turns around and crawls back onto the bed next to him. “We might be able to get breakfast if we hurry, Obi.”

In one smooth motion, Obi sits up. He droops forward and lets his head fall, bringing a hand up to scratch his endearingly messy bedhead. “Surely the trainees know what to do without me telling them at this point.”

Shirayuki sighs, rolling her eyes in an attempt to hold in the smile that threatens her.

“Alright, I got it, Miss,” Obi turns his head to her and grins widely—

But not before Shirayuki grabs his face in both her hands and promptly kisses his nose.

When she pulls back, Obi is stunned to silence. The tips of his ears are searing red.

Despite all her training-- and all of Yuzuri’s explicit stories-- Shirayuki has to admit: she was not quite ready for the, ah, moment.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Obi slurs from the pillow as she coughs, his fingers carding soothingly through her hair. “Are you alright?”

The taste that lingers in her mouth is bitter, earthy, and her jaw feels subtly stretched beyond comfort, but besides that, she’s fine. Better than fine with his chest beneath her hands, with the memory of how he had thrown his head back, how he had called out her name--

She squirms, and it does nothing to dull the yawning ache between her legs. Oh no, now she’s more aware of it, that persistent pulse, throbbing with the beat of her heart. No matter how much she tries to live in this moment, to appreciate the patchwork of pale scars and smooth skin beneath her, it’s impossible to forget how he had offered to give it to her if she wanted.

Oh, how she had wanted then, how she still wants now--

Her breath gasps out of her as her back hits the mattress, jarring her thoughts into disarray, but she has no time to collect either before Obi appears above her, mouth canted coyly. His hands cup under her thighs, grip firm but gentle, guiding her knees up to her chest.

“Obi,” she breathes, bracing her hands on his chest, enjoying the rabbit beat of his heart beneath them, “what--?”

“I believe--” his palms smooth up her thighs, rucking up her chemise-- “you said that you should finish what you start.”

His calluses scrape along the soft skin between her legs, creeping up and up, and oh, she never thought she’d like anything like this, something rough where she is smooth, but she shivers at his touch, the scent of her blooming bright in the air. Yuzuri had always said it must be terrible for boys to get hard all the time, that at least girls could hide what they want and when they wanted it, but now—

Now she knows the exact moment he smells her, his teeth flashing behind his lips, smug and yet—hungry. Predatory.

Her toes curl. “Y-yes.”

“And it seems—“ fingers brush over the wet curls between her thighs, stealing her breath, but it’s nothing to the jolt that snaps through her when his thumb parts her folds—“I have some unfinished business with you, Miss.”

She almost manages, you have no idea, but one long finger traces her slit, and her back nearly clears the bed. “Obi!”

Shirayuki clutches at him, gripping his biceps so hard she’s sure he’ll have bruises the size of her fingers when they’re done, but she can hardly care, not when his own slide up the length of her lips so easily she moans.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, almost conversationally, as he dips his finger inside her. She expects resistance, but even in this her body yields to him; it slides in smoothly, right down to the last knuckle. “Fuck.”

She opens her mouth to tease him, to mind him to watch his language, or maybe ask if he planned to kiss her with that mouth, but--

But he curls his finger, and now she can barely do more than breathe, her whole body focused down to that single, throbbing point. “Obi!” she tries again, but there’s no words in her, not when he slips in a second, stretching her until she’s-- she’s filled.

It’s obscene how wet she is, how his fingers drawn out a wet squelch with every pump, her scent growing thicker on the air. She’s flushed just knowing it, knowing that there’s no way to hide how desperate he makes her, how much she wants him. Her cheeks and chest burn even as she raises her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers, and she opens her mouth to-- to apologize, but--

“You’re so ready,” he whines, hips grinding into her thigh. She can feel him, half-hard against her, and her cunt clenches hard, drawing out his moan. He’s filling her, but it’s not enough, not what she needs, not when it’s already so close.

“For you,” she pants, pawing at his arms, his shoulders. “I want you, please.”

Obi’s breath huffs out on a laugh, head shaking. He surges forward between her legs, the thrust of his hips pushing his fingers deeper, drawing her world to a single, aching point and--

“Please.” Shirayuki has never begged for anything, only ever earned it, but oh, she will beg for this. “Obi, please.”

“Yes,” he groans, tilting forward to place a kiss on her chest. “Yes, I’ll give it to you, just...”

He loses his words, mouth too busy kissing what skin he can find. His hand grips her thigh, looping her leg up over his shoulder, until she’s open for him, wanting, the wet noise of his touch obscene on the air, and--

He stops.

“Obi.” There’s no breath left in her to scold or to beg, but she manages that.

He bends over, mouth curling as he presses it to her knee. “What’s this from?”

Shirayuki blinks, chest still heaving. “Haah?”

“This.” His nose brushes along the same place, eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of her thigh.

It takes her one long moment to focus, to see the small, silvery scar that stretches just under her kneecap. “I crawled through a bramble patch looking for truffles.”

His eyebrows raise. “Truffles?”

“The boy next door told me that princes ate them.” She lets out a huff, heat blooming across her cheeks. This was not exactly what had come to mind when Yuzuri had told her about pillowtalk. “I thought if I could find some, my grandparents could use them.”

His chest rumbles against her shin. “And did you?”

A laugh bubbles out of her as she shakes her head. “No. And I’m lucky that’s the only souvenir I kept from that excursion.”

Obi grins at that, his hand sliding along her arm, lifting her palm up to him. He barely looks before he presses a kiss there. “And this one?”

His breath puffs hotly against her hand, and it's...intimate, in a different way than it was before. “I grabbed a flask with my bare hand.”

“Miss,” he admonished, moving up to a finger. Hers are slender, small, and she expects a delicate kiss, just a pucker of his lips, but--

“Haah,” she breathes as his lips open, threatening to envelop it whole. “Broken glass,” she offers, hazy, “or a thorn I can’t-- ahh-- remember.”

He smiles around the tip, teeth scraping her skin, and she’s suddenly very aware that his fingers are still inside her, motionless, waiting.

“Obi,” she whines, wriggling her hips.

“Mm?” His brows raise as he gives one, solid suck that she feels straight down to her toes.

“I...” She licks her lips, mouth terribly dry. “I have one on my lip too.”

His mouth leaves her with a pop. “Is that so?”

She nods, emphatic.

“Well,” he drawls, rolling the word obscenely across his tongue. “We can’t ignore that, can we?”

He hovers over her, gaze fixed on her mouth, and her eyes flutter, falling to half mast, waiting--

“Oh!” she yelps, clutching at his shoulders as he flips her up, straddling his lap. His fingers are still in her, impossible to ignore with the way she’s spread wide over him, and he gives one long, languid pump of his wrist. “Obi!”

“I need to get a better look,” he says, too innocent, ducking his head to inspect her mouth. Her lips tingle with anticipation, something that would annoy her if he wasn’t still moving his fingers in her, so slow, stroking just lower than where she needs him.

His breath ghosts over her lips, so close, and she leans in, hoping--

His mouth presses to the corner of hers and is gone just as fast. “Ah, not there. Maybe here?”

Lips barely brush the other corner before he is grinning at her, far too smug. “Or is it--?”

“Here,” she huffs, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him to her mouth.

It’s softer than she expects-- both the bristle against her palms and kiss on her lips. Despite his yelp of surprise, Obi is ready for her, tilting his head to open his mouth against hers, to let his tongue shyly lap at the lip caught between his own.

Shy is not what Shirayuki wants, not right now, not when his fingers still rest within her and she can feel the bare skin of his chest against her belly. She surges against him with a roll of her hips, tongue reaching out to lick at his teeth, and--

“Ah-ah,” he clucks, pulling back, eyes little more than thin golden rings behind the veil of his lashes. “You’re distracting me.”

“Distracting you?” she echoes, breathless, uncomprehending.

“You should always finish what you start.” His teeth flash wickedly as he leans in, pressing his lips against the bone of her cheek, just beneath her eye. “This?”

She blinks away the haze in her mind, trying to remember, but then it comes her her: the endless rocking of the boat, the sharp sting of a blade--

Obi stiffens, pulling away. Even his finger leave her, wrapping around her hip. “Miss? Are you--?”

“It’s nothing,” she says, “just a scratch.”

“Miss...” His gaze fixes to the spot, and she can see the moment he remembers. “Is that...?”

“You should call me by my name, Obi,” she tells him, louder than she needs to. Her fingernails scrape along his scalp. There’s nothing she can't say to Obi, nothing she needs to hide, but-- she doesn’t want to talk about that. Tanbarun. Not now. “You’ve already used it anyway.”

He hesitates, eyes still caught on the silvered line, so faint it’s practically faded. With a shuddering breath, he drags himself away, fixing his gaze on her lips. “Oh?”

“Earlier,” she tells him, enjoying the way his eyes pulse wide with shock. “And I don’t think there’s any need to worry about propriety now. Not when I’ve done...things, and you’ve already offered to make me feel good.”

Obi’s mouth rucks up into a smirk. “Did I now? And here I thought I only said we had unfinished business.”

“You did.” She hesitates, just a moment, before adding, “At Kaninshala.”

His eyebrows raise. “Kaninshala? I don’t remember that.”

“You were drunk at the time.” Her heart flutters in her chest, but there’s no risk left in this, not when the taste of him still lingers on her tongue, and his fingers spread wetness along her side. “But you said that you wanted to make me feel good. That you could make me feel good.”

It’s not often that Obi blushes enough for her to see, but she’s close enough to see his cheeks flare red, matching the tips of his ears. “I-I did not!”

“You did!” she insists.“You even told me you would give me a child--”

Obi lets out a pained bleat, burying his face in her neck. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

She smiles, carding her fingers through his hair. “You thought I might be missing what a marriage might have given me.”

His breath huffs hotly against her neck. “I doubt my intentions were quite so selfless as that, Miss.”

She hums, disapproving. “I thought I told you to call me by my name.”

“I might as well,” he grumbles, “since I already offered to sire your children.”

“I should have insisted earlier,” her mouth curves as she presses it to his neck, “you already told me you could hold me down with just your thighs.”

His head snaps up. “Wha--? You said that!”

She blinks. “No, you did, at Svarbjorn, when I--”

“No, you told me that you--” he huffs out a breath, shaking his head-- “at Lord Hideo’s, when we went cow tipping with his idiot sons. You rode home with me.”

She barely remembers that night, but she does vaguely recall his warmth pressed into her back, the way one of his hands had spread distractingly over her stomach. “I did.”

“And then you grabbed my thighs and asked me if I could hold you down with just them.”

“I did not!” she squeaks, mortified. “I don’t-- I don’t remember that at all!”

“You were drunk at the time,” he admits with a sly cant to his mouth, “but you were very clear. And asked about Master too.”

She covers her face with a groan. “No.”

“Yes,” he tells her gleefully, tugging at her hands. “I must admit, it was very pretty picture you painted.”

There’s something about the way he drops his voice, the way it practically sinks into a purr, that makes her...curious. “Could you?”

He blinks. “Could I what?”

“Hold me down.” She drops her hands to his chest, letting them drag over every ridge of muscle between his collarbone and hip. “With just your thighs.”

His cock twitches hard against her bare thigh. “I, ah...” He licks his lips. “Why don’t we find out?”

She spills back against the bed, thighs clenching as Obi crawls over her, gaze searing as he drags it up her.

“You said you wanted to be sweet to me,” she sighs as his legs pin her, her hands tracing up and over the cords of his thighs, “are you going to be?”

“Did I now?” he hums, hands circling her arms, running up to her wrists. “I don’t quite recall...”

“At Kichirou’s,” she gasps as his mouth presses at her neck, sending sparks racing down to her toes. “When you-- haah-- offered to make me feel good.”

“Mm,” he hums, mouth canting slyly against her skin. “I meant I wanted to taste how sweet you are.”

Her brow furrows. “Taste how--? Oh.”

Yuzuri had told her about that once, how a man might put his mouth on a woman there. Then it has seemed just as improbable as someone putting a cock in their mouth, but now--

But now her mouth is still bitter with him, and the thought of him between her legs, doing to her cunt what he is doing to her breast--

“You would...?” She doesn’t know how to ask, how to say that she wants to feel his stubble on her thighs and his tongue at her slit. Despite all the one-sided conversations on the subject, Yuzuri had never quite touched upon anything more than theory. 

“Mm.” His hum goes right through her with the way his mouth is wrapped around her nipple. “I think about that quite a bit.”

It should be easy to turn this into something, to insinuate that she might like to experience all-- all that, but all she manages is, “O-oh?”

He chuckles against her breast, self-deprecating, and gives her a sly look. “It always seemed too much to hope that you might want...” He hesitates, humor leeching from his face. “I thought...serving you might at least be a more likely fantasy.”

“Obi.” She sinks her hands into his hair, pulling him back to look him in the eye. “I have never thought of you as anything less than my friend.”

His eyes shine, even as his mouth quirks. “Even in the beginning?”

Shirayuki blinks, remembering the scrawny young messenger who popped out of every bush and dropped from every rooftop; who asked her if it would not be easier if Zen wasn’t a prince-- “Well, maybe an annoyance, at first.”

His lips split into a grin. “That’s fair.”

“But after that,” she presses, emphatic, “I never thought of you as my servant. I thought that we were...that you thought we might be...”

His hand tangles in hers, settling over her heart. “You've always been my best friend, always. I just thought that I...” His lips press together. “Sometimes I wondered if I was just seeing what I wanted to see. You know, a dog that thinks its the same as its--”

“No.” She strokes his cheek, his stubble rough against her palm, breath catching as he leans into the touch. “No.”

His breath pulses roughly between them, once, twice, before his hand raises, covering her own.

“I mean what I said before,” he murmurs, nuzzling her thumb. “I love you, Shirayuki.”

Her breath stills in her chest. “Obi...”

The words are right there, right on the tip of her tongue, but...but this is not her moment. She’d welcomed him home once, years ago now, and his answer had only been to lift her off her feet, to show her what his heart could not convey in words. She’d been content with that, carrying the memory close to her heart, like how some people wore lockets, but then he’d done what he’d never done before--

He found his words. For her.

As easy as these have come for him today, she knows that each one is hard-won, a battle she’s not seen-- or at least, one she can’t remember.

Her thumb rubs at the dark circle beneath his eye, faded since they’ve come to Rodatrad. She can wait to tell him.

“I’ve thought about that a lot, you know.” His eyes slit open, so dark behind the curtain of his eyelashes. “How I wanted to make you feel good. How I would show you.” His voice drops into a purr, “That I’d like to taste you.”

“Oh!” she gasps, heat flaring as bright on her cheeks as it does between her legs. “I...I...”

“Yes?” he hums curiously, hand dropping to cup her breast, rolling its peak between two of his enticingly long fingers.

“If that’s what you would like,” she says, miraculously steady as she meets his eyes, “then far be it from me to deny you.”

His breath catches in his chest, still against her skin. “Miss--”

“Shirayuki,” she tells him, and presses a hand to the top of his head.

The amber of his eyes turns molten, scorching. “Shirayuki.”

With no more goading than that, his mouth traces a scalding path down her body, licking and nipping at every inch of skin until he finally sits in the vee of her legs, gaze fixed to where she lays open for him. His breath huffs warmly against her, sending shivers up her spine, and she squirms.

“Obi, I think-- haah--” She loses the rest of her thought at his mouth closes over her, tongue sliding up her slit. Her hips jerk, and if she wasn’t about to die from embarrassment, the way his chuckle rumbles against her would be enough to send her over.

His arm settles across her waist, a heavy band, and then his tongue laps at her again, parting her folds, and-- “Oh,” she sighs, back arching as she squirms against the sheets. “That’s good.”

He pulls back with a hum, grinning. “It gets better.”

She means to-- to ask him what he means, to maybe even tease, but his fingers replace where his tongue hand been and his mouth latches hard on to the aching bud between her legs and, well-- she’s only human.

Pleasure overtakes her, as sudden and relentless as the undertow, dragging her under. She’s panting hard when she surfaces, throat raw, knuckles blanched bone-white where she grips his hair.

“Oh,” she breathes, “oh, I didn’t mean to...”

Words refuse to come to her. Obi rests his chin on her belly, grin pulling wide. “I don’t mind. I have to say, the enthusiasm’s...enjoyable.”

Shirayuki nods, loosening her grip, blood tingling as it ekes back into her fingers. She pats his head absently, bristle pleasantly tickling her palms. “I love you.”

Well, there goes that good intention.

He stills under her hand, eyes wide. “M...”

His breath leaves him on a rasp, and he surges up her, mouth open and devouring as it meets hers. Ages ago, it seems, she had been afraid of kisses like this, staring out the iced windows of an inn room, wondering if the snows would free her. But now she catches him, just as eager, knees squeezing his hips as he writhes into her, the soft cotton of his pants caught between her toes.

Obi pulls away, but only to tear at her chemise, yanking it up the rest of her body and throwing it to the floor, somewhere beyond the horizon of the mattress. She cannot bring herself to care, not when she is bent of ridding him of his pants, using both fingers and toes to work it down over his hips, down along the lean line of his calves.

He’s hard against her when she’s done, the length of his cock grinding sweetly into her. “Do you...?”

She cannot possibly miss what he is asking, not when his eyes are so desperate. “Yes,” she gasps, curling into him, “yes.”

All of her theoretical experience has braced her for this part to be unpleasant, maybe even painful, but as his cock slips through her folds, the tip gently pushing into her, there’s nothing but the slow slide of him in her, filling her until she gasps.

“Now that,” he breathes, pressing kisses to to column of her neck, “is good.”

She threads her fingers through his hair, gently scraping her nails down his scalp, enjoying the way he stops to groan against her skin. “Does it get better?”

He jerks back, the worry in his eyes fading as he catches her smile. “Yes,” he says, rolling his hips into hers, laughing as she throws back her head and moans, “it does.”

His pace is torturous, both too slow and not enough, barely filling her before he pulls away, leaving her empty, aching, clawing at him for more--

It doesn’t take long, not for either of them.

He moves just right, hips grinding against hers in a way that had her seeing stars, and then his cock slides all the way in, to a place where her worlds whites out at the edges. With little more that a squirm of his hips she’s falling again, harder this time, every part of her so hot she’d be afraid she might scald him, if she had any room for any more thoughts that yes and more and don’t stop.

Her ears are still ringing as she comes down, but she catches Obi just in time, his back stiffening under her fingers as he lets out a noise that sounds more like a wounded animal than a man. His cock pulses as he spills over, a detail both obvious in hindsight and yet somehow shocking in the moment, but she’s so sensitive that it feels good, better than good, and she holds on to him, coaxing him over with mindless sweet nothings.

Boneless, he collapses into her, the weight of his body oddly comforting against hers. She strokes his back absently, tracing patterns in the sweat that slicks it until he laughs, rolling off beside her.

Ohh, it should not feel so good when his cock leaves her. It only makes her want to start again.

“You know,” he sighs, smile spread wide and warm as he twines her fingers in his, “that’s not when you’re supposed to say it.”

She blinks. “Say what?”

He’s flushed already, dewy and pink, but it settles deeper now. “I...you know. When you...ah...”

It still takes her a full moment of watching him squirm to realize, “You mean when I said I love you?”

“Yes,” he sighs, relived. “That.”

Shirayuki can only stare. “Why not? You made me feel very good, and I love you. It seemed like the perfect time to say it.”

His eyes widen. “You make a fair point, M--” he catches himself-- “Shirayuki. But also...”

She hums, inquisitive.

“Well,” he coughs, “I can’t really tell anyone this story. Ever.”

Her brows raise. “Oh, and somehow when you said it to me is a much safer story?”

He has the decency to blush at that one. “Well, it was, you know, before.”

“Hm,” she grunts, “by a few seconds, maybe.”

“By enough,” he insists, pulling her against him. “But I suppose we’ll just have to keep it to ourselves anyway. A mystery.”

She grins, settling her head against his chest. “You do love to have secrets.”

She can feel his grin as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I do.”

“But...” Her smile turns wicked, hidden against his chest. “Yuzuri hates them.”

He groans. “Oh no, Yuzuri.”

“Are you going to come to bed?”

Akihito frowns at his wife’s reflection in the window, but turns to her anyway. “This is cheating, I hope you know.”

“Me?” Masami flutters her eyelashes, just as she had the night they met. His lords always talk of women losing their beauty as they age, but every year has only made her more beautiful, more herself-- and she knows it. “I merely sent a congratulatory gift.”

“To Sir Obi’s room,” he grouses, slipping between the covers.

She slides across silk to lay her head on his chest. “It’s where we both know she will be.”

“Still.” He frowns, not to be moved. Between the two of them, he is the one with an acute sense of fairness. “Still.”

“Oh, and threatening a daughter was somehow a fair play?” she inquires archly.

“I did not threaten a daughter! I only--” he casts about for the right words-- “informed Lady Shirayuki that she existed. And would make a good match for Sir Obi, should none other provide itself.”

“I’m sure Chisato will be pleased to hear you were making such plans in her absence,” his wife observes wryly, “perhaps we might mention it in our next letter.”

He grimaces. “That won’t be necessary. And there’s no need to be sour over it, in any case. You could have used the same ploy. She’s your daughter as much as mine.”

She favors him with a cool look. “Oh, do you think so?”

He coughs, aware of the ice creaking beneath his feet. “What was it that you wanted, then? A greenhouse?”

“Ah!” Masami crows, levering herself up to meet his eyes. “So you admit I won?”

“We cannot know until morning.” Their plans had too often been spoiled by the stubbornness of Lady Shirayuki and her guard to be too certain of any one move working. “But...” he sighs, “where would we even put such a thing?”