#red thread au

"My lord," Baron addresses, in a voice that had once been taught to command a room's attention, "I am Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, and I have come in hopes of breaking the curse on your daughter." He nods respectfully to the woman on the lord's left. "Lady Haru, I presume."

She inclines her head to him, a diplomatic smile offered in return.

A bespectacled man at the lord's shoulder coughs. He looks to be a scholar but, given his placement on the dais, Baron suspects he is instead an advisor. "If I may be so bold," the man begins, with the tone indicating this is a polite sentence starter and not actually asking for permission, "but if you have come hoping to break two curses with true love's kiss, then you will be sorely disappointed."

Baron smiles. "Then it is just as well I came with no thoughts of my own curse, and have not in the half-dozen years since it became permanent." He does not add - as fitting as it may be - that if Lady Haru's curse is also time-sensitive, then she has likely missed her deadline as well, judging her age to be akin to his. "Since then, I have devoted myself to travelling and helping those I meet – which is precisely what brought me to your home today."

"And how exactly do you propose to break Lady Haru's curse if you were unable to break your own?" the advisor asks. He peers doubtfully over his spectacles at Baron. "Are you a wizard?"

"I possess a touch of magic, self-taught through books, but I rely primarily on the knowledge, rather than the magic, of my extensive library."

"And where is this library, pray tell?"

"At hand," Baron says, and plucks a book out of thin air. In his library, it belongs on the fourth bookshelf along the west wall, three shelves up, five across. He tosses it to the advisor, who catches it clumsily with sleeve-obscured hands.

"A Gentleman's Guide to Courtly Manners?" the advisor reads.

"Keep it. Consider it a gift of goodwill, if by chance your library doesn't already possess a copy."

He is sure he sees Lady Haru smirk, if only for a heartbeat.

"Onto the matter at hand," Baron says, before anyone else can discern the veiled insult in his donation, "while I have heard many speak of the curse laid upon the Yoshioka line, few seem to know its exact nature."

"Remove your gloves," the lord commands, "and then we shall speak."

Baron doesn't respond immediately. He glances subtly across the court, to see if this is some sort of joke – but the faces are eager, open. Some further back are even straining their heads above the crowds. The advisor readjusts his glasses in preparation.

"If you wish," Baron replies, and tugs off both gloves.

There is a reason he wears the gloves; his hands are as altered as the rest of him, padded on the palms and furred along the back. Even regardless of the advantages of sheathing his claws (books never fare well with them) he has discovered people find them... unnerving.

Still, the court exhales a collective breath of... what? Disappointment? Relief? Certainly a far cry from the usual discomfort.

"Does that meet your approval, sir?"

"It will suffice."

Baron smiles wanly. "I have removed my gloves, sir. Now I believe you promised me a tale."

"There is precious little to tell," the lord dismisses. "In my younger years, I angered a fairy who sought revenge by later placing a curse on my only daughter. Haru."

The name is a command, not an introduction, and at her name, Lady Haru sheds her own silken gloves. Baron waits for the reveal, but her hands look perfectly ordinary – save for a thin red thread bound about her left little finger. As she turns her hands over, Baron sees the end of the thread seemingly vanish into nothing.

"At the other end of that thread is the man my daughter is fated to marry," the lord says. "I want you to find a way to destroy it."

"Why? Is the man not of her favour?"

"The man is impossible to find," the lord replies. "Since my daughter was a babe, I have searched far and wide to find one who posseses the other end of the thread, but all in vain. At this rate, my line shall end here, as doubtlessly the fairy intended. Find a way to free my daughter from this curse, Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, and you shall be covered with jewels."

The advisor critically assesses Baron's height. "Or at least up to the shoulder," he adds.

x

As Baron steps into the lord's library, alone at last, the stone crow atop his cane uncurls into life. It fixes him with a baleful stare. "That little book trick was needlessly petty."

Baron circles the room, assessing the titles on display. "They earned it."

"And if the lord had taken insult? I would have thought you, of all people, would understand the importance of first impressions."

"To take insult, Toto, the lord must first recognise his own lack of manners, and then be willing to acknowledge that to the court." He pulls free a tome and flicks it open. "As it is, it appears my little joke flew over the heads of most."

"I thought it was funny," comes a voice from the doorway.

Baron snaps the book shut and turns to their guest. He bows. "Ah, Lady Haru. What a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I thought it wise to meet the most recent 'hero' intent on breaking my curse." She enters, and the bulking form of her guard shadows her. The man is built like a mountain, and about as intimidating. Lady Haru must read something of that in Baron's face, for she adds, "Oh, don't mind him. That's just Muta – he has a heart of gold once you get to know him."

Muta doesn't look like he's interested in getting to know Baron – perhaps unless it's introducing his face to a brick wall.

"The most recent?" Baron echoes, choosing to focus on a safer topic at hand. "How many have tried to break the curse?"

"It depends. Are we counting the snakeoil merchants, or only those who honestly thought they could provide a cure?" She stands across the room from him, but even from that distance, Baron can see she looks more alive than she had by her father's side. She shrugs – the action is loose, easy. "I suppose it doesn't matter – I've lost count of both. But it's been a while since someone has tried. Your crow talks, by the way."

Baron glances down to Toto, still perched atop the cane. "I wouldn't do him a disservice by calling him my crow – he is his own – but yes. This is Toto."

Toto bobs his head in the nearest thing a bird can achieve to a bow. "Delighted."

Lady Haru grins. "You, sir," she says to Toto, "could teach the court a thing or two about manners." She nods her head in return. "Forgive my forwardness, but weren't you a cane when you arrived?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay."

"It's a form he often takes upon our arrival somewhere new," Baron explains, in lieu of Toto. "Sometimes it has its uses to have a pair of eyes unknown to others."

"And he likes the drama with my reveal," Toto adds. His tone is fond – but still notably judgemental.

Lady Haru's grin becomes conspiring. "I won't tell a soul."

There comes a series of bells from further within the estate.

"Chicky," the guard warns. "We gotta go."

Lady Haru nods. "Sure. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Baron von Gikkingen, and Toto of the cane."

"My friends call me Baron," Baron says. "Or, at least, Toto does, and he's the only friend I have. I would be honoured if you would do the same."

Lady Haru pauses, hand against the door jamb. "My friends call me Haru," she says. "At least, they would if I had any."

Muta snorts. "What am I, furniture?"

"You're practically family, Muta," Lady Haru shoots back. "Anyway, do you want me to invite him to call me Chicky, too?"

"Just Haru's fine."

"Good." She glances back to Baron. "I'll see you around, Baron."

Baron bows. "As you wish, Haru."

x

"Well," Baron says once the room is theirs again. "She seems..."

"Surprisingly okay with siding against her father?" Toto offers.

"I was going to say nice."

"You only say that because she liked your book trick."

"It is nice to know someone in this place has a sense of humour," Baron admits. He sighs and rounds back to the desk. "Well, time to see if I can deliver on my promise. And our first port of call: establishing what my predecessors have tried."

x

The Yoshioka household keep extensive records of all official attempts made to break Haru's curse – although by the perfect (albeit dusty) conditions of the paperwork, Baron supposes he is the first in a long while to check. Possibly ever, actually, considering how many hopeful heroes have repeated past methods.

Even so, it takes the good part three days to collate all the details into one set of notes.

Baron closes the current record and glances down at his efforts. At the start, his notes had been detailed, but by this point they've devolved into a tally score. The movement draws Toto's attention.

"So? What's the verdict?"

"The verdict," Baron says, looking at the long row of tallies for 'cut with blade', "is that I'm amazed Haru has the patience to speak to any aspiring saviour after everything she's been through. Do you know how many times she's had to deal with leeches?"

"I'd really rather not."

"Or the number of potions, elixirs, or panaceas of dubious origins she's been given?" Baron ruffles through his notes. "I think this one is just ditchwater and salt. How about the attempt to override it with another curse, or the three times she's allegedly had to drink powdered unicorn horn? One man even suggested severing the finger in question!"

"Her father allowed that?"

"My father promised to cover the man with jewels if it succeeded," Haru says. She grins ruefully from the doorway she's appeared at, but there is a bite behind the smile. "When that didn't work, he suggested removing the hand entirely, but my father drew the line at that. Apparently it would 'hamper my marriage prospects.' So," she says, "what's the verdict?"

Baron startles back to his notes, still trying to process Haru's nonchalant admittance of her father's willingness to take a butcher's knife to her. "It's... extensive, the attempts made..."

"And repetitive," Haru adds. She perches on the arm of a chair, close enough to spectate but still keeping her distance. "When I heard you had requested the official records, I had to come see for myself. I'm impressed." She leans forward. "Verdict?"

"If my spat of research is enough to impress you, then I am mortified on behalf of my predecessors," Baron says.

"I meant on my curse," she clarifies, but not without humour.

"On your curse? That the fairy did a very good job." Baron picks through his notes, but he can't help but feel pleased at Haru's smile. "Given the... numerous attempts to cut the thread with a blade, it is clear that it cannot be severed by any means. Indeed, it seems to be intangible to all but yourself, and while you can make contact with it while holding a blade, the blade makes no mark on it."

"People always seemed so smug to think up that solution," Haru says. "All they needed to do was ask me – I've known since I was a child that I couldn't cut it."

Baron files this remark away for later inspection. Something about it seems off, but now is not the time.

"People have tried following the thread, burning it, cursing it, uncursing it, cleansing it, all to no avail. In cases where removal of the thread involved... more than just the thread," Baron says, as tactfully as he can manage, "the blade couldn't even cut the skin, let alone remove anything substantial." He tries to ignore the metallic taste the words leave in his mouth, and looks over to Haru. "Is your little finger invincible then, or...?"

She laughs, and a little of the tension dissipates. "No, but that would be nice. No, I've had my fair share of paper cuts and bruises and the like, but when it came to purposeful removal..." She shrugs. "It's almost like the curse knows the intent. It's an ordinary finger until you try to detach it, and then suddenly it's diamond as far as a knife is concerned."

"Just as well, otherwise you would have crushed the finger of anyone you pinky swore with."

"Pinky swore?" she echoes.

Baron blinks. "It's a children's way of making promises. You curl your little finger around the other person's, and then you make a promise. Like this."

Before he can fully process what he's doing, he's leaning across from the desk and intertwining his little finger with Haru's.

"See?"

She freezes.

Suddenly he realises he's holding the finger about which the curse rests – a finger prodded and poked so many times only the magic bestowed on it has probably kept it from turning black and blue... if not worse. He stammers out an apology, makes to retreat, but her finger curls tighter around his with the strength as if it is diamond.

"Like this?" she asks. "Now what?"

From this distance, he can see the way the light catches in her eyes and the way her shoulders square, as if preparing to fight or preparing to laugh and ready for it either way.

"Now I make a promise."

"And what will you promise, Baron von Gikkingen?"

He likes the way she says his title, bereft of awe or hunger, but teasingly instead.

"I promise," he says, and he lingers over his answer. Despite her jokes and her humour, he's also seen the glimmer of a shadow – not just in the corners of her smile, but in the ink of the records too, in the years documented where she has been little more than a riddle to be solved, a puzzle promising riches.

This feels like a test, set by her.

He could assure her he will undo her curse, save her from her fate – but every predecessor of his has promised that, in one form or another.

He could offer something more heartfelt, something genuine to show he understands – but then he remembers her comment about snakeoil merchants. She knows people are capable of saying the prettiest lies with crocodile smiles, promising remedy or help or care, if it gets them what they want. He wonders if any promised her more than a cure – if they set their sights higher than jewels and eyed marriage into the esteemed Yoshioka family.

He wonders how many promised Haru their heart, in hopes of a rich bride.

"I promise," he starts again, "to never use leeches."

She laughs, and he can feel the way it shakes through her from their joined hands. He's passed. "Or ditchwater elixirs?" she asks with a grin.

"Not even with salt," he promises.

x

"Baron," Toto says later, "you absolutely cannot fall in love with her."

"Absolutely," he agrees cheerily. "Cannot, will not, shall not. All the nots."

"Baron. I mean it. Even if you manage to break her curse, do you think her father will approve her marrying someone like yourself?"

Baron raises an eyebrow at Toto. "Do you really have such low opinion of me that you think a pair of pretty eyes and a good sense of humour are enough to make me forgo all sense?"

"I had hoped not," Toto says, "but you're the one calling her eyes pretty."

x

It takes a couple more days for Baron to search through his own library in search of possible remedies. The story of joined lovers is not unknown in his homeland – although the terminology tends to be soulmates – and some books even mention a red thread. No, the difficulty lies in the fact that nowhere is this connection considered a curse.

"At least," he says to Toto, "not by the end. Oh, there are plenty where people ignore it, or try to escape it, but then they fall in love with their fated other half, even if they don't know it. Nowhere does it say how to break a red thread."

"The fairy knew how to lay a curse then," Toto says. "Give an unwanted blessing."

Baron stills. His head tilts in a way that sends Toto's stomach plummeting.

"What is it? What have you just thought of, Baron?"

"There's no record of anyone attempting to find the fairy who laid Haru's curse. Perhaps if they can be found – reasoned with–"

"Then maybe they'll curse you for good measure too," Toto finishes dryly. "You, of all people, should know how capricious fairies can be."

"I'm already cursed, Toto. What else can they do?"

"Lots! How do you feel about spending the rest of your existence as a tree? Or a statue? How about spitting toads every time you talk?"

Baron pauses. "That's a real curse?"

"It's the sibling curse to the blessing where you spit jewels."

Baron considers this. "Spitting jewels doesn't seem much better. Probably hurts more, because at least frogs are soft. What if you sleeptalk? What if you talk while you're eating? What if you swallow them?"

"Remember what I said about fairies being capricious?"

"And yet this is the best lead we've found so far. No one else has tried it yet."

"For good reason."

Baron rises to his feet. It feels good to be moving forward after nearly a week of looking back. "We shall never know if we don't try."

x

"Impossible," the lord says.

Baron smiles, because that's a safer expression than any he might otherwise inadvertently give. "Some would call a red thread of fate or a man with the face of a cat impossible, and yet our world is made of such things. Who are we to determine what is impossible or not?"

"The fairy does not want to be found," the lord retorts.

"And the curse doubtless does not want to be broken, and yet I persevere in the latter. If this can free your daughter, then surely it is worth pursuing–"

"I forbid it," the lord growls.

Baron's mouth snaps shut, curtailing any fine-worded arguments to the contrary. His smile remains, frozen in place, but gone from his eyes. "I see."

x

"You're not going to listen to my father, are you?" Haru asks. She sits, perched on the steps of a bookcase ladder. Baron wonders if she has an allergy against sitting in an actual chair. "You're going to try to find the fairy, right?"

"Lady Haru, the lord of the estate made it quite clear no attempts were to be made in that department," Baron says breezily. "So, naturally, I shall not. But, for good measure, I should probably know all that is already known about the fairy, so that I don't accidentally find them."

"Naturally," Haru echoes, with that familiar conspiring grin. "What do you need to know?"

"Anything, at this point."

"Well then, prepared to be disappointed," Muta grunts. The guard keeps his distance from Baron, but Baron has no doubt that should he attempt anything untoward, Muta would be there in an instant. "When the fairy came to curse Haru, they were robed. No one saw anything of them."

Toto hops across the desk, eyeing Muta. "And you saw this?"

"Muta became my guard only after the curse was struck," Haru says. "But my father and the rest of the court has spoken about it at length. It seems even the fairy's voice was impossible to describe – everyone heard the fairy speak in their own voice."

Baron's shoulders drop. "So, there's nothing to identify them."

"Well... there was the peasant girl."

"Peasant girl?"

"Chicky, if yer father heard you talking of such things..." Muta trails off. "You know he's already reluctant to let you spend time here."

Haru's mouth twists into an unhappy line, but she does not counter her guard's point.

Baron flips a book open, and it does a little to alleviate the strange silence. "Well, in absence of our finding the fairy, we must be moving on to other options. Now, I believe I read here that there is a spring nearby rumoured to possess healing powers..."

"That's already been tried," Haru says.

"Yes, twelve times," Baron agrees. "What harm will one more visit do?"

"Lord Yoshioka knows you've studied the records," Muta says. "He knows you know it won't work."

"True, but how about..." Baron flicks through his notes for inspiration, "mixing salt and powdered unicorn horn into the springwater?"

Haru's nose wrinkles. "You have powdered unicorn horn?"

"No, but no one will know I don't."

Now it is Muta's turn to pull a face. "And how are yer gonna pull that off? Put a little chalk in and hope no one can tell the difference?"

Baron catches Haru's eye, and he can see the exact moment she cottons on. She clasps her hands demurely before her, the very picture of a meek and mild maid. "Such an auspicious visit should be done in meditation, don't you think, Muta? With a small entourage, so that I can better achieve the necessary reflection to partake in such a pilgrimage." She raises her head, smirking. "What do you think?"

"Drop the pilgrimage line, Chicky. It's only an hour by carriage."

x

It takes some persuading, but eventually the lord agrees to the spring visit – with some caveats. Firstly, that Haru's guard will accompany them. (Reasonable, Baron admitted. After all, he has just suggested taking the only Yoshioka heir into the depths of a forest. If he was in the kidnapping business, this would practically be a gift wrapped opportunity.)

And the second is...

Well, Baron knows the man's name to be Natoru, but that is all Baron is sure about. The man in question is short and plump, and carries a permanent smile and a scroll and, as far as Baron can discern, Natoru is here to record the event.

The fact that Natoru has been sent – and not the undoubtedly more senior advisor – makes it clear how little stock Haru's father has put in this attempt succeeding.

That's fine by Baron. If this little outing does cure the curse, then Baron will be the most surprised of all.

The carriage ride to the edge of the forest where the enchanted spring lies is mostly in silence – or at least for the majority of the carriage's occupants. Haru wears a mask of serene grace, and Baron makes a similar show of determined concentration, while Muta is sat out in the driver's seat.

Natoru chatters.

(The speed at which Muta had insisted upon taking the reins (and his further assurance of no passenger space in the driver's seat) makes Baron wonder if he knew just how much Natoru can talk. He doesn't want to assume but... well, if the boot fits...)

So when they reach the forest's edge, Baron is quick to depart, leaping down from the carriage and offering a hand to Haru.

"Lady Haru wishes to make her approach to the spring in meditative silence," he tells Natoru. "So it is best, I think, if you go on straight ahead, and we shall make our slow approach."

Natoru flusters – there's no other word for it – wringing his hands with evident distress. "Oh, but I'm meant to record everything that happens! For posterity! I should be there."

Muta jumps down from the driver's seat. The carriage bounces from the release. "Buddy, it's a half hour walk in absolute silence. It's gonna be, what, two lines at most in the record? You ain't missing anything."

"Well, I suppose..."

"And this way, you can be assured the spring is ready when we arrive," Baron adds. "Ensure there's no unpleasant surprises waiting for us."

"A very good point!"

They watch Natoru's bustling form vanish into the forest. No one speaks until they are quite sure he's not about to bounce back.

"What's his official title, again?" Baron asks.

"I don't think he has one," Haru replies. "Yes-man?"

Toto stirs into life, shrugging off his wooden façade. "Be glad he's no sharper, or he might have taken more to shake. I don't wish to pressure, but we should probably start making tracks, before even he becomes suspicious. You said something about a peasant girl, Haru?"

"Well, I suppose she'll be a peasant woman by now," Haru says. She steps into the forest with such surety that Baron has no difficulty believing she has traced this trail a dozen times. "She was under the care of the fairy who cursed me."

"Like a godmother?" Baron offered.

"A what?"

"Someone who's not blood-family, but who still has a duty of care for a child," he explains.

"Oh. Yes, I suppose you could call it that. Anyway, when my father came of age, his father threw a series of balls – three masquerade dances over three nights – and on each night, a mysterious woman dressed finer than even an empress arrived."

Haru hitches her skirts as the trail narrows, and Baron falls behind her. He leans forward to push the branches around her face out of her way. She throws him a smile that immediately makes the inconvenience worth it.

"On the first two nights, the woman fled at the stroke of midnight, but on the third and final night, my father slathered the stairs to the ball with tar."

Baron falters. Several twigs slap into Haru's face. "Sorry! He what?"

"Tar," Muta says. "On the stairs. Weren't yer listening?"

"Of course, I just... tar, really?"

"It nearly worked too," Haru continues, unfazed. Baron supposes she's had several decades to come to terms with it. "Only, she slipped out of her trapped shoe instead, and still ran. But my father was intent on discovering who this mystery lady was, and so announced that he would marry whomever the abandoned slipper fitted."

"Wasn't that risky, though?" Toto asks. "After all, there surely were a good number of young women who would be a potential fit?"

"It was a slipper clearly created by magic," Haru explains, "made from glass that no mortal craftsman could replicate. And it seemed to work – no matter who tried it, even if it looked right, it never fitted. That is, until a scullery maid stepped forward."

Baron tilts his head. "A happily ever after for all," he says. "But I fail to see how this translates to angering a fairy. Was he intended for another?"

"He didn't marry her," Haru says. "Once he realised that she wasn't an empress, not even a high-born lady, but a servant girl favoured by a fairy godmother, he refused. He smashed the slipper and claimed another woman – a lord's daughter – had fitted it instead. And he believed nothing would come of it – until I was born." She picks up her feet and continues into the forest. "And that's when the fairy cursed me."

"Because of your father's actions?" Baron demands. He hurries after her, resorting to his cane to keep the narrowing path at bay.

"Wielding the other glass slipper and decrying my father for refusing true love in favour of riches," Haru says. "So the story goes, anyway. The fairy claimed that the scullery maid was under their protection, and for his callousness, I would bear a fate worthy of being his daughter." She waves her hand airily. "And poof, red thread of fate. Honestly, if you ask my father, he'll say the fairy must have bound me to someone who's already dead, or some other impossible soul."

"And you?" Toto asks.

"I think it'd be far more fitting if I'm bound to a peasant," Haru replies. "Perhaps a pig farmer. Or a miller. Maybe a shepherd."

"Your father implied your soulmate was impossible to find," Baron says.

Haru snorts. It's decidedly unladylike and a clear indicator, Baron suspects, of how much time she has spent around Muta. "My father has only searched as far as the nobility, and refuses to consider anyone who hasn't got a title. There's probably a fisherman somewhere with a red string around his thumb and no idea what it means."

"And you?" Toto asks. "Does it matter to you if your soulmate has a title?"

"Why would it? Even before I was cursed, I was never going to have a say in who I married. If I didn't have the curse, I would have been long ago married off to whomever my father decreed fit." She shrugs. "I still may not have a choice, but at least I should love them. That's what a soulmate is meant to be, right? Someone you're fated to be with?"

Baron's heart twinges. He studiously ignores it. "Haru, would you prefer it if we found your soulmate instead of breaking the curse?"

Haru snorts again. "If you do, be prepared to start running. My father will have you diced and fed to the koi fish if I end up marrying a pig farmer."

It wasn't a no.

x

To nobody's surprise, the spring trip doesn't work. That's fine, Baron never expected it to. Instead, he thinks on the journey home, brow knitted in concentration.

The key, he decides, is the scullery maid. A fairy might be able to disguise their form and vanish as the need takes them, but mortals are usually far easier to track. And if the fairy really considers themselves a godmother-like figure, they won't have just abandoned the maid the moment Haru's father rejected her.

"The difficulty is," he remarks to Toto as he later pores over yet another record, "the lord did a very good job at scrubbing all mention of her from history."

"Did you expect anything less?" Toto asks. "You wouldn't have even known about her had Haru not told you. It embarrasses him."

"He fell in love. That happens."

"He fell in love with her riches," says a voice from the door. Baron looks up, expecting to see Haru accompanying Muta, but it's only the guard. His disappointment must have been plain in his face, for Muta chuckles disdainfully. "She ain't here. She's off meeting another potential suitor for when her pa's able to marry her off."

"Oh." It occurs to Baron, not for the first – or likely last time – that regardless of whether he breaks Haru's curse, he still has no chance of winning her hand. He opts for a safer topic. "Can I help you?"

"Why would yer want to?"

Baron blinks. "Because that's what I do."

Muta snorts. "No, yer don't."

"I really do."

"Let me tell you a secret I've learned from all these years bodyguarding: nobody helps for nothing. People are kind for money, or power, or for a bride that can give them both." Muta looms over Baron. "So which are you?"

"I'll answer after you."

"What does that mean?"

Despite every instinct screaming at him to flee, Baron stands his ground – even if he can feel his knees shake. He offers a smile. "It means that I can only imagine this show of intimidation – which, top notch, is working – is intended to ensure I don't have any ulterior motives concerning Lady Haru. If people are only kind for money or power, then what is the cause behind your apparent care for her? Tell me, power or riches? Surely it cannot be mere altruism."

Muta stares at him for several long moments, in which Baron is sure he's about to be violently introduced to the nearest wall. Then, "I know all about you, Humbert von Gikkingen."

Somehow, the use of his name feels more threatening than anything else Muta could have said. "If you have any questions, you only ever needed to ask."

"I know what you did to get cursed."

Baron's smile doesn't falter, but it does harden, just a touch at the edges. "Then maybe you'll understand why I have devoted my life since to helping others."

"Because yer scared you'll get cursed again. Yer know there comes a cost with refusing help, so yer make sure yer can never be accused of standing by idly again." The guard tilts his head. "Or maybe yer hoping that enough good deeds will break the curse. But once a curse misses its deadline, it's stuck for good."

"I have no delusions of breaking my own curse. I know my fate."

"Then maybe yer looking for a different kind of prize." Muta smiles, but there is nothing friendly in it. "After all, Lady Haru comes from a rich family. Plenty of money to be made in breaking her curse, but why settle for a hero's bounty when you can marry into a lord's lot instead?"

"I have no interest in riches–"

“Good to know,” he replied, relieved. He went to kiss her again, but she put a finger to his lips. He reluctantly put space between them.

“Where’s the blanket you brought? The most comfortable blanket I’ll ever experience? You promised me.”

“Forgive me, 자기야 I got distracted,” Namjoon laughed, watching her cheeks get red from the endearment.

Once the blanket was on the ground, the two of them laid on it, shoulders touching as they whispered about the constellations and the mythical stories connected to them. Namjoon pointed out the constellation of Cygnus, named after a Greek king who was transformed into a swan. She pointed out the well-known constellations, but also found one Namjoon hadn’t been able to see before. They stayed up a long while, trading stories about the stars.

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

The first thing Namjoon registered was being comfortably warm. He hummed, not fully awake, and moved closer to whatever was radiating the soothing heat. Nothing could penetrate his sleepy mind at the moment, not even the morning noises of camping and the cool air coming through the material. His right arm was out enough for her to use it as a pillow. He let his hand roam, moving over soft cotton then meeting smooth skin. His hand wandered further upward, meeting the curve of a breast.

Namjoon’s hand froze, waiting for a response from her in his arms. With her breathing even and quiet, he realized she was still asleep. His eyes popped open, his own breathing becoming ragged. He was stuck between being bold and waking her up, or pulling his hand away and taking care of himself in the shower.

When she moved in her sleep, her pebbled nipple brushed against his hand, causing his cock to fully wake up and pressed against her in earnest. Namjoon bit it lip hard and slowly started to pull his hand out from under her shirt. A soft, sleepy hum came from her throat and she pressed against him once again. He froze, waiting to see if she was now awake.

"... keep touching me, please."

The words were so soft Namjoon wondered if he misheard them through his thundering heartbeat in his ears. She pressed her own hips backward. His whole body buzzed with energy. Namjoon let out a shaky breath before putting his lips near her ear. Had she been speaking in her sleep? He had to make sure before giving into his urges.

“Do you want me to keep touching you?” She nodded, but Namjoon wasn’t taking that as an answer. “Yes or no, 자기야.”

“Yes, please,” she responded breathlessly, turning just enough to catch his eyes with her own. Namjoon moaned, moving his lips to the skin just under her ear. He kissed her skin as his big hand cupped her breast, her nipple pressing against the palm of his hand. She arched her back and Namjoon relished the feel of her body warmth through their clothing.