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claudeng80 · 4 years

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Succession

Lilias is the city of snow, not of sunshine, so when a heat wave rolls through just on the cusp of autumn, the guards in their heavy cowls aren’t all that wilts. When Shirayuki shuffles back into her room at the end of the day, she’s layered in sweat and sandy from wrist to elbow. Even with the heaviest gloves, there’s stuff under her nails, and she can’t wait to get clean.

There’s two letters in her basket, which she picks up by the corners. There’s no way she’ll keep from smudging the envelopes, but that’s not going to stop her from trying. She sets them on the table, washes her hands one more time, then comes back to the one with the blue seal. She’s received many of these since coming to Lilias, some thick and some thin, some Zen’s words written by Mitsuhide and some in Zen’s own dashing hand.

She breaks the seal and flips it open, and inside she finds a truth they’ve been avoiding for years. The sand in the hourglass has run out without them changing Izana’s mind, and now that the fishing rights situation with Tanbarun has been clarified, Zen will be marrying the second princess of the Western Isles in the spring. He’s sorry. He hopes to be her ally for always and her friend, and regrets any hardship his actions and decisions have caused her.

It’s very polite and well-worded, and she braces for the tears an ending like this should bring. It takes a minute to accept that she doesn’t really feel like crying. She’s not surprised. She’s not upset. It doesn’t even feel like she’s lost something, because very little about their friendship will truly change. She’s his ally now and always. Perhaps she’ll be upset later, but for now she just flips her other letter to open it.

This one is sealed with a device she doesn’t know, a coat of arms impressed in yellow-orange wax. The handwriting of the letter body is unfamiliar too, but that of the postscript isn’t, and the juxtaposition is a mystery. Prince Raj is not one to go adding notes to others’ letters. He writes his own when he wants to speak to her, lengthy tomes on decadent paper, sometimes perfumed. Flipping ahead to the signature shows the even handwriting is Mihaya’s, clearly the beneficiary of far more lessons than Shirayuki ever had.

So it’s with natural caution that she starts reading, shading into disbelief as the point of the letter becomes clear. “Since you so kindly agreed to my offer, the prince and I have submitted your claim to the king and it has been accepted. For the purposes of inheritance, until I should have children you are second in line for the Sisk title."

Shirayuki blinks. When did she agree to that?

Ostensibly they’re playing cards for walnuts, any higher stakes far too dangerous at a table including the princes of two countries and Obi, but in truth a lot of what’s going on is drinking. Zen’s been working on improving his alcohol resistance, but his intentions have long since outstripped his body mass and when he stands to make a trip to the water closet, he stumbles and only Obi’s lightning reflexes prevent his descent to the floor. Zen grabs at Obi’s shoulders with a giggle. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up,�� says Obi, and the two reel off.

It’s an odd feeling to be left alone in the room with Mihaya and Raj. It’s unlike Obi to ever let her out of his sight when Mihaya is present, but she realizes what Obi had probably assessed before Zen ever tried to get out of his seat. Mihaya’s a stiff breeze from going face down on the table, and Raj is giggling to himself. Both men are far too soused to be any kind of a threat. She attempts to shuffle the cards, not sure what else to do with herself, and they spray all over the table. “Prince Zen is a good guy,” slurs Raj. “He’s good. I like him now.”

“I’m glad,” Shirayuki says, wondering if she’s going to manage to get all the cards back together before Obi sees what she’s done. Raj lists to the left and she pauses, thinking maybe she should find him some crackers. She’s been nursing the same glass all evening, but on top of the wine at dinner she isn’t so sure she can trust her feet either.

“He only has one problem. One,” Raj continues, lifting a finger with all the seriousness he can muster. Mihaya nods, the pink on his cheeks ruining his attempt to match Raj’s gravity. “He should marry you. You’re a friend of the- friend of the- friend of me. Special. Mihaya said he’d adopt you. You should try that.”

She knows she said no once before for perfectly good reasons, but right now she’s having trouble remembering what they were. “Okay,” she says, certain that none of this nonsense is going to mean anything to anyone.

It’s too bad that when she wakes up the next morning in a castle guest room with far too many windows, the entire night is a blank.

“Per the king’s ruling, your position within the family is similar to that of a younger sister. You are not officially a sister by law, though, so if your arrangement with the prince were to end and you wanted to cement the title-” She reads that paragraph again to make sure it says what she thinks it says, and it does. She scans the next few paragraphs for any more surprises, past discussion of her proper address and correct display of heraldry, but it’s all gibberish.

A dangerous giggle forces its way between her lips, and she tries to swallow it back to keep it from taking control.

“That’s not how I’d thought you’d be reacting,” Obi says, and Shirayuki drops the letter with a shriek. He’s just let himself in through the door, and the look on his face tells her he’s had his own letter from Zen. There’s an apology on his tongue that she doesn’t want to hear, so she snatches up the letter from her lap and waves it like a cape before a bull.

“I got a letter from Mihaya,” she says. “Apparently I agreed to something when we were last in Tanbarun?”

“What’s the monkey done now-” Obi grumbles, but he accepts the paper and scans it. It’s obvious enough when he gets to the point, because his mouth drops open. “His heir?”

“I think he still feels bad about trying to sell me-”

“More likely he’s using you to curry favor with the prince. He adopts you, Raj is thankful, Zen marries you and he’s brother-in-law to a prince-” In a second his anger freezes as he realizes what he’s just said.

“Won’t he be surprised, then.” Her voice is hoarse, but there are still no tears.

Obi’s eyes tilt into apology, but he goes back to reading. He’s a far faster reader than he likes to pretend, and she knows when he reaches Mihaya’s vague proposal by the way his nose wrinkles. “You couldn’t- you wouldn’t take him up on that, right?”

She hasn’t given it a second’s thought. She never really felt the need to marry, certainly not someone in another country who’d take her away from the work she loves so much. She has everything she needs for a happy life right here, but she’s not above teasing a bit. “I don’t know, do you think he feels guilty enough to give me all the gardens I wanted?”

It doesn’t have the desired effect. Obi doesn’t look teased, he looks staggered. “I would,” he breathes.

There’s nothing but silence in the room. She’s not even sure her heart is beating. “I’d dig them myself, you know I could do it,” he adds, his voice a little stronger now but his eyes terrified. He drops to his knees. “I’m no prince and no noble. But would you have me instead?”

Zen knelt before her once, laid his sword on the ground before her. A noble gesture, a knightly one, but still a gesture. Obi raises his eyes to hers, his hands open and empty. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t try to convince her. All he does is ask and offer and wait.

He doesn't wait long, though. She's still reeling from the question when terror closes out the hope from his eyes, when he drops his gaze and starts striking out for safer ground. "Or you know I'll dig your gardens anyway, nothing needs to change-"

He pushes to his feet, moving like a heavier man, like there's lead in his chest, and for once she's the faster one, catching his hands before he can retreat. There's a tremor in her the touch of his skin, as she looks at a future with Obi and finds the vision a joyful one. His hand in hers. A tear in his eye as he cradles a baby with dark hair that could be reddish in the light. Wrapping those same beloved hands with medicine when he can no longer ignore how the joints ache.

“Yes.” The answer is easy on her tongue, and she would say it a hundred times to watch the look on Obi's face. He's called her his home, in moments before when he's been moved to seriousness. He's owned a roomy place in her heart now, for so long, and when she says she has everything she needs to be happy, that includes him, there by her side, in her thoughts, part of her. “Not right away, but yes.”

Now he's the one speechless, dipping his head to press his forehead against the backs of her hands. Sand grates between them, and even as it irritates it feels right. They fit together. They belong. They've found home in each other.

#obiyukiweek20 #courtesy #obiyuki #fanfic #in which mihaya adopts shirayuki #thank you kaedix for beta reading and not letting me be lazy

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claudeng80 · 6 years

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Disgraces (Day 7, Fire)

Mihaya isn't afraid of anything.

He wants his title back so badly he can taste it, but it's not fear that drives him, but cold ambition. His father squandered his birthright, and he'll win it back.

If he were afraid, would he be here at the castle gates, demanding to speak with the prince? No, that's simple calculation. Great rewards come only to those who take great risks. Playing it safe has left him with nothing but sore hands and an empty stomach, and he’s done. He’s not cut out for hard work. It's time for a gamble. He’s due for something to finally go his way.

This time he’s counting on the prince's soft spot for the redhead. He’s not going to begrudge her a powerful patron, because if he had her assets, he’d do just the same, make all the use of them he could. The only question left is just how much her safety is really worth to the prince.

Things are looking up when Shirayuki’s name greases his entry into the castle even more than he’d expected. Even the gate guards are smitten with her. It doesn’t surprise him this time. She’s resourceful, she’s stubborn, and she makes an impression. He thought about her a lot in prison. He smiles, ever so helpful, and the gate guard smiles back and sends a message.

The aide who comes to meet him is much harder to read. She’s pretty, but the hilt on the sword bumping at her side is too well-worn to be merely decorative. He’ll tread carefully with this one, but even she softens when he hints at his purpose. Hope is just starting to set its hooks in his heart when he hears boots running behind them. “Kiki!”

Maybe he’s relaxed too soon. He's never heard that voice before, not exactly, but something about it is far too familiar. He can't be here in the castle. In prison, he’d believe, but here . . .

The blonde stops and turns, so there’s nothing Mihaya can do but follow, holding his breath in the fruitless hope of being mistaken. The voice continues, “Are you taking him-” Catlike gold eyes narrow and Mihaya’s hopes wither on the vine. Obi’s never been the forgiving type.

Yet for some reason, Obi doesn’t betray his recognition by more than the smallest hitch in his speech. “To see Master?”

“He says he has important information for Zen.”

“Does he.” Obi’s voice drips with suspicion. “I’ll join you.” Without a word or reaction, Kiki turns and continues. With every step, Mihaya trusts the peace and order of the castle to keep him safe with Obi in arm’s reach. Were they in a private place, he’d never turn his back. It’s basic caution.

But they can pretend not to know each other, if that’s the way Obi wants it. Not like he cares. Fine.

The second prince has a long memory and a short temper. Time should have tempered his reaction; Mihaya spent half a year in prison, after all, served his sentence with exemplary behavior. There’s really no need for all the shouting.

Watching Obi where he lurks in the shadows expends attention Mihaya shouldn’t be sparing, but it means he sees the moment Obi understands his history with Shirayuki. It’s rather unfair of the prince to bring it up, it was ages ago and no harm done in the end. It paints him in a negative light that’s entirely unwarranted, but of course Obi’s ready to believe the worst. The look on his face is dangerous as he waits, still as a cat, and the effort of maintaining his cool in the face of such hostility is starting to wear on Mihaya. It’s a relief when Zen sends Obi away.

The prince crosses his arms and waits, surly, and Mihaya can’t figure any way to ask him what he wants to know. Does the prince not understand what a viper he has in his employ? Baron Merrill had been deep in Mihaya’s father’s schemes and far less savvy at hiding his tracks, so much that when the Earl of Sisk merely had his wealth and titles stripped, Baron Merrill was executed. His title was erased from the records and his son cut free of all inheritance.

Mihaya had barely thought of him then, too busy trying to find some kind of stability in his own life, but if he’d been asked, he’d have thought Obi might have gone to the pirates his father conspired with. They’d made a pet of him when he was little, teaching him to climb and throw knives, tricks he’d brought back and tried to share. Mihaya’d never had the knack for either, one of many things Obi lorded over him.

He looks like a pirate these days, with his scars and knives and that sloppy jacket. Working in the castle, for the prince himself, and that’s the best he can do. He’s never had any kind of pride in his appearance.

Shirayuki’s skittish when Obi shows her through the door, but she looks much calmer after she meets the prince’s eyes. She takes her seat, and it’s unfortunate to see her so intimidated when he knows how magnificent she can be. People can’t be at their best all of the time, he supposes, eyes tracking Obi as he settles in behind Shirayuki’s chair to loom like a suit of armor with an unwavering glare.

The prince clears his throat, impatient, and Mihaya tears his gaze away from the threat. He says his piece, describing the boy looking for Shirayuki and the circumstances surrounding the meeting. He hates the port, the smells and the fish and every job he’s had to endure to make it this far, but it put him in the right place for this, gave him the opportunity to step up out of his state of despair. When the prince doesn’t suggest it, he makes a tactful comment about reasonable consideration for his efforts, and it’s hard to imagine any noble being so naive as to be offended by that, but the prince manages.

Honestly, it’s not like he’s asking for much, just a hand up to get him back on the path where he belongs. Some money he could use to invest, an introduction to the right group of wealthy marriageable women, a job with a decent level of prestige, surely the prince can do something.

Instead he finds himself in a cell, his escort from earlier even more inscrutable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she warns him, her earlier sliver of warmth snuffed out, but there’s nothing to worry about. In spite of everything, Mihaya’s just where he wants to be.

***

He’s less sure of that when Obi shows up to free him. “We're checking the port, monkey, and if you try to run off, I will bring you back tied up in your own ponytail.” Obi’s voice is like his father’s but his sneer isn’t. He must resemble the mother Mihaya never met and nobody ever mentioned.

Mihaya can overlook the threats. That’s part of the cost of doing business. The nickname hurts far more, assailing him with the unwelcome memory of a long afternoon in the woods, Obi lying on a tree branch imitating a panther he'd seen in a book, Mihaya bouncing on a vine and screeching with joy. They'd called each other cat and monkey after that until Mihaya’s father had put an end to it. “Nicknames are below your dignity, and so is that family.” He'd looked up at the Earl, so confused but willing to do anything to please his father. “They have their uses, but that boy is a bad influence and not worth your friendship.”

He’d tried, for at least a week, but empty halls and books held no appeal when he knew Obi was out there, somewhere, catching tadpoles in the creek or counting the eggs in the robins’ nests. The draw was irresistible. Only now he realizes that his father probably had Baron Merrill’s downfall planned all along. The earl never expected to take the punishment alongside his scapegoat, but nobody had anticipated Prince Izana.

Obi’s silent and wary, still waiting for his response. “Fine.” Mihaya turns away from Obi's inquiring stare. “Let's get this over with.”

Of course the pretty boy is nowhere to be found. Mihaya and Obi manage civil silence the first day, observing the crowds and speaking strictly for the exchange of information. Occasionally Obi points someone out, and Mihaya responds that “No, his hair is longer,” or “No, he's shorter than that.”

Obi finds a room at an inn seedy enough to suit him. Mihaya would sigh about it, but it has a bed, and those have been in short supply lately.

Of course, Obi claims the bed.

Civil tolerance can only last so long with that much history smoldering behind them. On the second day, Mihaya does no more than stumble, Obi sneers, and Mihaya is yelling before he even knows he’s opening his mouth. “You don’t have to look at me like that! It’s not like I even did anything to you, I was a victim too!”

Obi turns, where his steps had taken him past Mihaya. His face is still, like a dark lake with unspeakable monsters below the surface. “Blame you? However could I? Blame the one who lived when my family died, who kept his name and country when I lost everything? Oh no, of course I could never blame you for any of that.” The calm voice is infinitely worse than anger. It’s cold, sharp, and there is no escaping it.

But Mihaya is too far gone to regret his words or take a single one back. “It turned out all right for you, didn’t it? Which of us is the starving criminal, and which works for the prince?” Obi’s chest is rigid under his accusing fingers. “Doesn’t look like you’ve been missing meals.”

Mihaya tastes blood, biting his tongue as his head crashes against a wall. They’d been standing in the center of the street, and he has no clue how they crossed the distance save that his feet didn’t touch the ground. “You don’t get to judge me, monkey.” Obi’s grip just under his jaw keeps him from turning his head, and he can only just watch Obi’s face from the corner of his eye. Obi’s still far too calm for any of this to make sense, his voice a level hiss that makes Mihaya’s heart want to hide. It's not fear, but any amount of self-preservation would yield the same result. “You also don’t get to pretend you know anything about me, and you certainly don’t touch me.” His fingers tighten on Mihaya’s throat just enough to make it clear exactly who’s in charge of the situation, then he lets go.

Mihaya fights to stay upright, to keep from coughing or gasping or dropping to his knees. Obi doesn’t step away, still far too close for Mihaya to move without touching him. He isn't more than an inch taller, but somehow he looms like a giant. It takes every nerve Mihaya can muster to look past him, calmly adjust his scarf, and just wait, feigning calmness. He still can’t draw an easy breath until Obi turns and walks away.

It’s not as though he’s intimidated, but perhaps silence is the wisest approach. Mihaya seethes as he watches Obi try on face after face, cheerful to apologetic to subservient as he spins tales for the residents of the port. It’s mystifying, why he’d choose to play these games when he has all the power of the castle behind him, why he casts a line over and over when he could be dragging a net through the town. Mihaya snarls at himself for that vulgar metaphor. The point is that this could be going a whole lot faster.

It would be going faster, if Obi would just put some effort into it. His breath catches as a terrible idea worms its way into his mind. The way Obi looked at Shirayuki in the castle was gentle, protective even beyond how he was with the prince. It would be a risky way to turn her head, letting her be kidnapped. Surely the prince couldn’t put himself at risk, his aides would have to search her out, and Obi could be the hero who rides to her rescue.

It’s not a very good plan, but a man in love competing with a prince who has everything might be just desperate enough.

So he watches Obi with a different eye the next time he complains about the pace. The answering abuse is nearly routine now, just insults to his scarf and threats to send him away. He’d like that, wouldn’t he, if he were trying to hide something?

“With those looks and that foul mouth, it’s hard to believe you serve in the castle,” Mihaya answers, because it would look suspicious if he didn’t. But he’s a little troubled, anyway. Obi makes every show of being the loyal retainer, takes every chance to guard the relationship between Shirayuki and the prince. Of all the things that could anger him, that’s what does it? What leverage must the prince have on Obi to get him to act this way?

He’d like to point out that coming between those two is the last thing he wants, because if the prince doesn’t want her then Mihaya’s assistance is worthless, but Obi’s in a vicious mood now. It’s not worth trying to talk to him when he’s like this.

It’s a bit disappointing how much Obi sounds like his father. Just thinking of Baron Merrill and his sharp tongue still sends chills down Mihaya’s back. Not fear, just the memory of being small and powerless in front of someone who relished his power far too much. He and Obi both had been happier when they managed to avoid the baron’s notice.

Not that anyone else noticed Mihaya either. His brothers had no time for him and his father had no interest, preoccupied with issues far more important than one bored boy. Obi was his only friend, until he went off to school and Mihaya was alone, unsuspecting, until the king’s officers came and took everyone away.

The inn doesn't improve with familiarity. When Mihaya wakes up on the floor in the middle of the night to flop painfully into new positions, Obi isn't even in the room. The door is locked, the window cracked open. It’s like he’s asking Mihaya to sneak out and disappear. Too bad. Mihaya will not give him the satisfaction.

It’s been nearly a week now they’ve had nothing to do but search and sleep and argue. Surely the boy is gone, this is a waste of everyone’s time. Smug one morning at the evidence that even on the floor, he’s sleeping better than Obi, Mihaya ventures a personal question. “How did the prince react to finding out who you were?”

If he'd waited until after Obi's coffee, he probably never would have had an answer. As it is, it comes in a flinch and a blankness, not in words at all. “He doesn't know?” That’s a lever he hadn't expected. Obi is actually lying to the prince. “But how-” And what is wrong with this prince anyway? How can he trust someone without knowing who he is?

Obi just grunts, dismissing the question unanswered. Mihaya should have expected no less.

Midmorning, they cross paths with a troupe of players. A crowd has gathered, slowing traffic to a crawl through the square. Mihaya and Obi should be scanning the crowd for long hair crowning a danger to Shirayuki, but the play itself catches Mihaya’s attention. Not the plot, for sure, there’s no telling what’s going on, but one of the players looks stunningly familiar.

Obi’s voice is incredulous. “She looks just like-”

“Blacksmith Li.” Mihaya finishes the sentence, and when his smile meets Obi’s eyes, just for a moment, his friend is there again. They’d gone together to beg Li to take them as apprentices, thinking they were so grown up for taking their fate in their own hands. He realized now that her stunned silence was less impressed with their initiative and more scrambling for a way to turn them down without offending anyone who could have her ruined.

“Hey,” comes a voice from near Obi’s elbow. A kid hands him a note and disappears into the crowd almost immediately. Probably a page from the palace, grabbing the chance to watch the play before he heads back. Mihaya watches him go and misses Obi’s first reaction to the paper, but he’s frowning by the time Mihaya turns back around.

“Bad news?” Surely that’s an innocuous-enough question, it’s not like he’s worried, but Obi’s eyes narrow even further.

“No news.” He’s still reading, lips parting to show his teeth. “Come on.”

They retrace their steps, Obi sniffing into every corner like a possessed hunting dog. Mihaya might as well not be there, for all the notice he takes of him. There’s an air of desperation in his focus, and that night Obi’s out the window before Mihaya even settles down to sleep.

Obi doesn’t come back in the morning. Just like everyone else, just like last time, he disappears. It’s not fear Mihaya feels, being left alone, it’s relief. No more Obi, no more walking on eggshells, no more memories every time they turn a corner. Two guards who don’t even bother to introduce themselves escort him back to the castle like a common criminal, leaving him in a room to wait. The lock clicks behind them, and Mihaya flops onto the bed. A real bed, no less.

It’s hard to convince himself he’s accomplished anything save reconnecting with an old friend who’d like to knife him in the back. The castle’s paid for food for a week, he's been eating well, but that's not enough. None of this is enough for what he needs. But the prince hasn’t thrown him out, which means his chances to make himself indispensable aren’t over yet.

Nothing’s over. His fate still isn't his own.

With a sigh, he relaxes into the softness of the bed. It could be worse. At least he has a lot of practice waiting. He settles back to watch shadows parade across the wall and doesn't fear the future.

#answeek2018 #day7 #in which Obi and Mihaya have a past #fanfic #canon compliant I think #just highly unlikely #Mihaya's voice is so much fun #nothing is ever his fault

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