Always by Your Side: Chapter 5
An Akagami no Shirayuki-hime (Snow White with the Red Hair) Fanfic
As far as towers go, this one is very nice. More decorative than functional, its stones gleam in the sunlight. The window provides a lovely view of the late, which felt much warmer when she was in it than it does now.
Shirayuki pulls Obi’s jacket tighter around her as she shivers. It would probably be warmer to sit outside in the sun, but Obi had suggested she wait inside for Zen and the others to arrive, and she didn’t want to spend any more time with Lord Brekker than she has to. Instead she stands in the little square of sunlight streaming through the window and lets it dry her clothes.
Sooner than she expects, footsteps sound on the stairs. She looks up, wondering if Obi or Shikito have come to get her, then the figure comes into view, white-blond hair shining like the lake in the sun.
“Zen!”
He’s . . . not happy. She can tell that much.
“Let me see your wound.”
She slides up the sleeve of Obi’s jacket to reveal her scrape. It’s not bad, but it definitely needs to be cleaned properly after her impromptu swim. Obi hadn’t been pleased to learn she didn’t have any of her supplies with her, and made her promise to go to Ryuu as soon as they got back to the castle.
Zen takes her arm in his hand, lifting it to see the scrape better. He says nothing, and she swallows. She’s already had to endure one friend’s disapproval today, and she doesn’t want to repeat the experience. “I wasn’t going to hide it,” she insists. “I know you would be angry if I tried.”
Zen shakes his head, a slight, fond smile creeping across his face. “Idiot.”
Everyone always says that. Her grandparents, her neighbors, her father. They see her actions, the risks, the consequences. They don’t see that she always, always thinks things through. Every action has consequences, and she considers them, weighs them out. Yes, she was injured by jumping into the lake, but it was a risk she understood. A mild injury, even one worse than the simple scrape, is a small price to pay for the lives of so many birds and the happiness of a friend—even one so new as Kihal.
But—she knows he doesn’t mean it as an insult. She chooses to take the fond tone to heart and let the word fall away. He’s not angry anymore, and she smiles at him, grateful she doesn’t have to explain herself.
Her eyes fall closed in her relief, so she has no warning for the soft pressure against her lips.
Her eyes fly open, startled, and all she can see is Zen. His lips slide over hers, gently, tenderly, and wrong.
Her first kiss—a moment every girl in her acquaintance assured her would be special and important and magical—and all she can think is, it was supposed to be Obi.
She should pull away, she knows. Stop this somehow. Explain that she likes him, she does, but not like this. She doesn’t want this.
But—she can’t move. The world is spinning off its axis, everything is all wrong, and it’s all her fault.
Obi told her how Zen felt, warned her to be careful, and she hadn’t listened, and now—
Movement catches her eye. No sound—never a sound—but Obi comes into view in the stairway, and his eyes lock on hers. He freezes.
She makes a sound, it might be a gasp, or it might be a scream for all she knows, and Zen jerks away. She still can’t move, can’t do anything except stare over his shoulder at Obi and the sickeningly blank mask he wears.
Zen follows her gaze and turns. “Obi! What—why would you—?” He stops and drags his hand through his hair. “Never mind.” He turns back to her, and a crack appears in the mask. Obi is angry.
She manages to shake her head slightly. She doesn’t want them to fight. She doesn’t want Obi to do something he’ll regret. She just wants today to be over and everything to go back to normal.
In her periphery, Zen bows. “I’m sorry. I did that without your permission. The next time I touch you, I’ll tell you first, and then—“ his voice drops away, then comes back, words spilling in a rush, “please tell me what you think.” He turns and leaves with a flare of his cape that can’t drag her eyes away from Obi’s. Obi takes one step after him.
“Please don’t!’ She bursts out. He stops, not meeting her eyes, and her tone drops to a whisper. “Please.”
His anger spills out with a sigh that fills the room and he turns back to her. A few steps bring him to her side. He reaches out, then stops, fingers just out of reach. “Did he hurt you?”
“No! He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t.” She breathes in and forces a tremulous smile. “I—I’m fine.”
The anger returns full force. “You’re not.” His teeth click together as he bites off the end of the word. “You’re not fine so stop saying that!”
She steps back, startled by his force. “But I—“
“You’re shaking, and I can see it, so stop lying to me.”
She pulls his coat tighter. “I—I’m just cold.”
“Which isn’t fine.” He steps closer, as close as Zen had been a moment before, but this is completely different. “Stop pretending like nothing ever bothers you.”
Tears sting her eyes. “Like you’re so much better?” She’s never shouted at him before, but she can’t seem to make herself stop. “You hide it every time you’re hurt! You’re always hiding from me!”
He jerks back like she slapped him. Her hand flies up to her mouth to stifle a sob. “That’s—that’s different,” he says.
It’s not.* It’s not.* She bites her lip to keep from screaming.
“Obi, Shirayuki, are you coming down?” Mitsuhide calls from below.
“Yes,” Obi says, almost sounding normal. “Coming.” He turns around and flees.
She follows slower, trying to calm her breathing and the tears so close to over-flowing. By the time she gets down, everyone has their horses ready. Out of habit, she moves toward Mitsuhide.
Obi coughs, and her eyes seek him without permission. He meets her gaze and gives the slightest jerk of his head—towards his own horse. She drops her gaze, but lets her feet drag her to him. Without a word, he helps her up then climbs in front of her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and he jerks his head in a stiff nod.
As they ride back to the castle, she clutches at his shirt and presses her face against his back. His shirt is still wet, so she’s sure he doesn’t notice the tears that soak into it.
No one wants to hire a child.
Too careless and distractible, they say. You can’t trust a child with jobs like these. It’s not like they trust each other either, but he knows better than to say it.
The tavern’s window latch swings free with barely a thought, and he crawls in, slipping under the table before anyone can catch his silhouette framed in the moonlight. His pulse thunders in his ears too loud to hear if anyone noticed his entrance, and he forces his breathing to slow. When the staircase remains empty, he slips silently out from under the table and to the counter.
It’s mostly alcohol on the shelves, which is unsurprising, but he finds some day-old bread to eat while he searches the cabinets.
The soft slide of a bare foot against the stair makes his heart stop.
This far from the city, no one bothers with enforcement officers to settle disputes. That’s why he’s waited so long to try this, but he was desperate and all his sources said the tavern keepers were getting old.
He whirls around, then freezes as he looks up and sees an angel.
Her long white shift hovers just above the ground, and the scarlet halo that frames her face glows in the candlelight. Her wide eyes and parted lips look just like the serene expressions of the angels he sees in books.
Later, he learns everyone reacts to her like that.
Her hands are red.
She hasn’t stopped working all day, harvesting, grinding, washing. Her skin is raw and scratched, and Obi would have offered her his gloves hours ago if—
If it weren’t for whatever is broken between them.
Ryuu stares at him, wide blue eyes piercing him all over again. “Fix it,” he’s begged over and over, but Obi doesn’t know how. He’s a weapon, made for cutting and tearing apart, not putting things back together. He looks away.
“Shirayuki,” Ryuu sighs, “when you finish that, you can go.”
She blinks several times, mouth falling open. “So early? But—but—“ Her eyes slide over to Obi, then immediately skitter away.
“Is there something bothering you?” Ryuu asks, and Obi flinches.
“Oh, um—“
“Because it might help to write it down.” Ryuu turns back to his work, and Obi catches Garrak biting back a laugh.
When he looks back, Shirayuki’s gone. Biting back a curse, he leaves the pharmacy, then stops when he sees her staring out toward the forest.
“Did you . . . want to go to the forest?” He asks.
She doesn’t look at him. “Yes, just for a minute.”
The silence hangs heavy on him as he follows her out. Her shuffling steps are too slow, and he’s not sure she’s actually looking where she’s going. He wants to say something, but can’t think of what.
His gaze falls to her hand, hanging by her side. How many times has she taken his hand while they walked? If he took it now, it would—it would do something he’s sure. He doesn’t know if it would make things better or worse, but there’s only one way to find out.
He reaches forward, and his fingertips just brush hers when a voice behind him calls, “Shirayuki! Obi!”
Obi raises his hands and whirls around. When he catches sight of the prince’s confused expression, his skin burns as though he’s been caught doing something terrible.
“What are you doing out here?” The prince asks, and Obi relaxes slightly. Maybe he didn’t see.
He opens his mouth to explain that Shirayuki wanted to go for a walk, when he feels a sudden pressure against his back. Shirayuki’s head presses between his shoulder blades, and he can feel her heat through his jacket. He swallows and turns his head to whisper, “Miss?”
“I—um. I was surprised.”
“Run.” It slips out before he can think.
She turns to look up at him. “What?”
“Run,” he says louder, and this time she doesn’t hesitate.
He laughs. He laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do and because the prince is sitting there, shocked as though he couldn’t imagine his feelings might not be reciprocated. “She ran!”
“You told her to run!” The prince shouts, like this whole situation in Obi’s fault.
Obi smiles, but can’t quite keep his feelings out of his tone when he says, “Actually, I think that was you, Master.”
Shirayuki was thirteen when she learned to swim in the lake not far from her father’s mountain village. Natsuki spent several afternoons giving her lessons, and when she finally got the basics down, the older girl convinced her to try a flip underwater. It was a strange sensation—leaving her feeling lost and trying to remember which way was up.
That’s what this feels like.
“Shirayuki!” Zen calls, but she doesn’t stop.
“I—I can’t!” She calls back, panting. She’s bad enough with words anyway, and there’s too much she can’t tell him.
The sounds of his running break off. “Please, I’m not going to chase you.”
He’s far enough back that she decides to stop as well, though she doesn’t turn around. She can’t face him right now. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
So many reasons. For every lie she’s told, for manipulating him, for not being able to return his feelings.
He takes a step forward, and she stiffens, ready to keep running, but he stops. “Why won’t you look at me?”
“You—you surprised me . . .”
His voice is so gentle when he asks, “Because I asked you to tell me how you feel next time?” And her heart clenches in her chest. She really, really doesn’t want to have this conversation.
“You know,” he sighs, “the first time I met you was in a forest.”
She won’t forget it. She wonders sometimes how different her life would be if she hadn’t stopped at that house. Would her life be easier if she and Obi were just more nameless servants in his palace? And yet, she’s glad to have met Zen. To become friends with him and Mitsuhide and Kiki.
“Shirayuki, will you come with me for a little bit?”
She can’t escape this conversation. Even if she slips away now, he’ll just corner her again tomorrow or the next day. Reluctantly, she turns around and follows him. She still can’t meet his gaze, even as they reach the small clearing. She sits on the wall, grateful when he chooses to sit on the ground in front of it.
She sees him tip his head back out of the corner of her eyes. “I used to come here to relax, but now it’s used for training, so it’s no longer peaceful for me.” He sighs. “But no one is coming in now. Now only you are here and no one else. That, alone, is enough.”
She doesn’t mean to start crying. It just hurts.
“Zen,” she cries, and his head whips around. “I love you, Zen.”
She loves too easily. Her grandmother used to warn her about it, tell her to guard her heart. She knew better than to get attached to the people of Clarines, but she couldn’t help it. Mitsuhide’s earnestness, Kiki’s quiet affection, and Zen’s adventurous spirit slipped past her defenses.
That’s what makes this so hard. If she didn’t care so much, it wouldn’t be so hard to reject him.
“You’re very important to me,” she continues. “I respect you and want to be helpful to you.” Gone are the days when she thought every royal is as spoiled and heartless as Prince Raj. She knows how much Zen wants to be a help to his people, and she wishes she could stand by him in that way.
“But . . .” She cuts herself off, unsure how to explain what she needs to without revealing too much. “But I want to keep looking at you the way I always have.”
As strange as it seems, he’s her friend now, and she hopes it can stay that way. Hopes she won’t lose him either to his changed feelings or her own loyalty to her family and country.
He unhooks his sword from his belt, and before she knows what he’s doing, he’s kneeling with his sword between them. Her breath catches, and it finally hits her just how crazy this is. The prince of Clarines kneeling before the daughter of the Tanbarun rebels.
“I want the same thing,” he says. The kiss in the tower suggests otherwise, but if he’s changed his mind, she’ll take it.
“Shirayuki, my royal title might not be able to protect you, and I don’t know if I can return as much as you give to me, but I still want to be beside you. I will protect your and my wish with everything I have,” he promises, and something twists inside her, knowing she can’t say the same. “I know it might sound strange for me to ask for your help, but you give me strength.” He looks up now, and holds out his hand. He looks like a statue, like a hero in a children’s fairytale book.
But her life has never been a fairytale.
“So will you please take my hand?” He asks.
She wishes she could mean it when she slips off the wall and says, “Yes.”
Obi paces outside her door.
Even when he would leave for days at a time on a job, he’s never missed her like this. She’s just as close as always, and yet he aches with needing her, like he’s forgotten how to breathe and can’t get rid of the burning in his lungs.
He falls back against the wall and tries to breathe.
Her door cracks open and he freezes.
She widens the crack when she sees him, and stands framed by the firelight in the dark hallway. Her thin white nightgown swings with her movement, and in the warm red light, she looks like an angel—too good for this world and far too good for him.
“Obi?” Her lips press together the way they do when she’s in pain and trying to hide it. He stays pressed to the wall.
She flinches and looks down at her feet. Her hand tightens on the edge of the door. “Please,” she chokes, and that single word breaks down all his defenses.
He pushes off the wall and follows her into her room.