Always by Your Side: Chapter 7
An Akagami no Shirayuki-hime (Snow White with the Red Hair) fanfic
Shirayuki knows how to dance. She’s been doing it for years at weddings and festivals. She understands that, to some degree, dancing at a ball is different, but she’s learned so many dances over the years. How different could it be?
Very, apparently.
“Please, Obi?” She would grab his arm to make sure he couldn’t slip away if she wasn’t sure she would trip on the hem of her skirt as soon as she dropped it. “I need your help.”
His eyes skirt away from her, and he reaches up to knead his shoulder. She feels a little guilty for pressuring him, but only a very little. “I don’t know how to dance like this either,” he reminds her, and ah, right. She hadn’t thought of that.
“I could teach you.” The dance tutor pops up between them, his relief causing even more guilt to bubble inside her. “It might be better, actually, if I could focus on watching her steps.” Obi hesitates, then slowly nods.
With an enthusiasm that has been pointedly lacking in every attempt since the first, the dance tutor sweeps her into a waltz, narrating his every step. She only steps on his feet twice in the two laps they make around the room, which is an improvement, but she misses his signals and moves the wrong way several times. The last time, she knocks her hip into a side table. That’ll leave a horrible bruise in the morning.
A hand lands on her shoulder, and the dance tutor stops. “I’ve got it,” Obi says.
The tutor stares at him. “A—are you sure?”
“I’ve got it,” Obi says again. The speed with which the tutor lets go of her is a bit insulting. She drops her gaze as heat fills her cheeks.
Obi quickly steps in to fill the empty space, sliding his hand down to rest just under the blade of her shoulder, and taking her other hand in his. He stands more stiffly than the tutor, not yet confident in the motions, but the tutor counts out the steps, and he leads her around the room smoothly enough that, if she didn’t know any better, she’d think he had done this before. They make it all the way around the room with only the basic step, and she relaxes as her feet fall into the rhythm.
“Good, good.” The tutor claps. “Now try some turns.”
She winces, knowing what’s coming next. Obi raises his hand, and she starts to spin—too far. Just before she crashes into the table again, he catches her shoulder and pulls her against him. “S—sorry,” she stammers.
A chuckle rumbles in his chest, and oh—they’re much closer now than when they started. “Don’t worry about it.”
Well, if he won’t pull away, neither will she. Besides, it’s . . . it’s easier like this. She can feel his every movement long before she would have noticed it before. His hips slide against hers, coaxing her back with every step. One foot slides between hers, and the muscles of his thigh clench, just before he rocks back, drawing her in another direction. He forgets to raise his hand early enough, but she doesn’t need the signal to know to spin when his fingers flex against her back and his torso bends almost imperceptibly closer, ready to catch her when she finishes.
Her father used to say she and Obi read each other’s minds, and right now, she’s tempted to believe him. That’s certainly what this feels like.
This . . . will never work with Raj.
Obi seems to realize this about the same time she does, dropping both hands and taking a step back. “Haha, I think I hear Master calling.”
She has breath in her lungs. She must, because she manages to choke out, “O—oh.” The dance tutor is staring, she can feel it, but she can’t seem to pull her gaze from Obi. “You, um, you should go, then.”
“Right.” A smile flashes, set wrong in his face, before he sweeps into a shallow bow. “Excuse me.”
“Wait, but—“ the dance tutor starts, but Obi vanishes long before he can finish the sentence.
“I told my brother that I would send a person I trust.” The words rattle around in Obi’s head, over and over. “I doubt it will surprise anyone if that person is you.”
When he had challenged the prince, he had been ready for a fight. The place at Shirayuki’s side was his until she decided to give it to someone else, and he would selfishly cling to it as long as she let him.
He hadn’t expected the prince to give up so easily, and he doesn’t know what to think of it.
The paper in his hand crinkles, and he realizes he’s squeezing it too hard. He forces his fingers to relax as he knocks on their—her door.
The door starts to open, falters, then swings the rest of the way as she huffs. She doesn’t bother to look up, just fusses with the long skirts of her ballgown. When she drops her skirts, finally satisfied, she smiles up at him. “I’m ready to go.”
He grins. “I think you’ll be a little early. Unless you want to spend even more time with Prince Raj . . .”
She makes a face. “I’m good. But why did you knock?”
He doesn’t usually, but the maids don’t need to know that. He holds up an envelope in answer. “Master sent a letter.”
Her eyebrows climb towards her hairline. “Already?”
She makes it too easy. “Miss.” He leans against the doorframe to bring their faces more level. “Most girls would be disappointed it took their paramour this long to write.”
The pink of his reward brushes her cheeks and drips down her neck. “He’s not my—that.”
He smirks, just about to say she might want to tell him that, when she grabs his sleeve and tugs. “Just get in here.” He stumbles inside and she shuts the door. “Is there anything important?”
“Oh, uh. . .” He unfolds the paper and picks up the small necklace lying in the middle. “You have a gift.”
“Oh!” She brightens. “From Kihal!”
He watches in amusement as she pats down the layers of silk, searching out the pockets her dresses usually hold. Her nostrils flare, the only sign of her coming to the same conclusion he’d guessed as soon as he saw the dress. He grins. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe for you.” He tucks it into his pocket.
She opens her mouth to say something, but a noise by the window catches their attention, and he steps in front of her, reaching for one of his knives.
Footsteps clatter on the handrail. “Oops,” an all-too familiar voice says. “Sorry, wrong room.”
Sighing, Obi tucks his knife back into its pocket, as Shirayuki steps around him. “Kazuki?”
“Oh!” The boy’s face peeks around the curtains, eyes wide. “It is the right room!” Obi pinches the bridge of his nose. He has got to give the kid some lessons in sneaking around.
“What are you doing here?” Shirayuki says. “You shouldn’t be here! Especially by yourself—“
“I’m not by myself!” As if to prove it, another figure lands on the rail beside him. Obi glares.
Itoya shrugs. “I knew it was the right room.”
“Anyway,” Kazuki plows on, “Pops says you both need to come home.”
“What?” Shirayuki asks, “But—but we’re so close!”
“Did something happen?” Obi asks.
Itoya doesn’t move, but his eyes dart to Kazuki, who rolls his shoulders like he’s trying to shake something off. “Uh, kinda.” His voice tries to stay light, but Obi can hear the brittleness of it. “We’ve had a little more trouble with the Claw, and he’s getting worried.”
Obi glances at Shirayuki, whose face falls into familiar determined lines. They both know her father doesn’t scare easily. If he thinks something is wrong, he’s likely right.
“Let’s go,” she says, and he nods.
She steps up to the window and hikes her skirt up. Kazuki holds out his hand to help her up when Obi hears a click behind him and a gasp. He whirls around to see the second prince and princess of Tanbarun peeking through the door with wide eyes.
“Get her out of here,” he hisses to Kazuki. “I’ll catch up.”
“But—“
“Go.”
Kazuki grabs Shirayuki’s arm and pulls her over to the rail. Obi glances at Itoya and sees that they both know what has to happen. “Make it look convincing,” he whispers.
Itoya’s hand hits the side of his neck, and the last thing he hears before everything goes black is the princess’s scream.
“Make it look convincing, I said, not actually knock me out,” Obi mutters to himself as he tracks them further into the forest. He has no idea how far they got, since it took him so long to get away from the concerned nurse and the blubbering princess, so he’s relieved when he makes his way to a small clearing and spots Itoya.
At least, until he sees the tension in the other man’s posture and how he doesn’t take his eyes off the tree in front of him even when Obi steps on a twig and lets it snap. He sees no sign of Shirayuki or Kazuki in the clearing, and his stomach churns.
“Itoya?” The man doesn’t turn around. “Where are they?”
Now he turns around, eyes cast to the ground in something that looks terrifyingly like shame. “I’m afraid we have a problem.” He steps to the side, revealing the four lines slashed into the tree.
“Obi!” Itoya’s horse slows down, and Mukaze glances back at them.
Obi grits his teeth. If he tells him again they need to rest, he’s going to—to—
Well, he’s not sure, but it won’t be pleasant. “What?”
Itoya’s horse falls in beside Obi’s and he lowers his voice. “Someone is following us.”
Obi knows better than to make any sort of move. Instead he listens. Sure enough, the rustling of leaves he had originally taken for wind grows too loud and constant. A bird calls above him, and something about the sound makes him look up.
Brilliant blue wings stretch across the sky and he gapes. How—
A flash of white streaks down from the cliff to land in front of him. Obi slides off his horse before he realizes he’s moving.
A person I trust.
He kneels before his prince. “Forgive me, Master.”
The prince takes a step towards him, but he can’t make himself look up. The blow isn’t a surprise.
The laughter that follows it is. “That’s from Mitsuhide and Kiki.”
His fingers dig into the dirt. This is wrong. He should be angry— “Master?”
“You could have at least left a note,” the prince complains.
Right, he hadn’t told anyone where he was going, so how . . .
“We’re just lucky Kihal asked about her gift,” the prince continues, oblivious to his confusion.
His hand moves to his pocket, and he feels the lump of the stone there. Ah, right. “So you were tracking me.” He stands up and sees Itoya and Mukaze watching him. He glances away.
“Have you found anything yet?”
He’s good at lying, and he’s always been somewhat proud of that fact, but though the lies come easily as ever, they taste bitter and sharp, like a knife splitting him down the middle, between his prince on one side, and his Lions on the other. Mukaze waits, curious, as he gives as much of the truth as he can.
When Raj gets involved, though, Mukaze decides he’s waited long enough to search for his kids. “I’m sorry, but I’m busy,” he says, looking not sorry at all as he turns and rides off, Itoya hot on his heels.
Obi and the prince mount their own horses again and spur them on. When they catch up to the other men, the prince speaks again. “What did you hope to accomplish by kidnapping Shirayuki?”
Obi clenches his fists around the reins in his hands. His failures just seem to be adding up today. Mukaze stays quiet for a long time, considering.
When neither of them speak up, Itoya volunteers. “Before he joined us, Kazuki was a slave to the Claw.”
“Itoya,” Mukaze murmurs in a low warning, but Itoya ignores him.
“He was sold to a noble to serve as decoration, so when he heard that Shirayuki was forced to flee the country because of a royal with a taste for red hair, it upset him, and he wanted to take her far away from that fool’s hand.”
Obi closes his eyes and fights down the nausea that floods along with memories.
It’s true, all of it. But Itoya doesn’t mention the day they found him. He doesn’t mention the bruises and cuts that covered every inch of bare skin—everything but the boy’s face. He doesn’t mention the screams when they’d tried to take him to the village. Screams that hadn’t ended until Shirayuki had sat in front of him, showed him her bruise-covered knees, and how rubbing her ointment on them relieved the pain.
“And when you confronted Shirayuki with this, what did she say?” The prince asks.
She had kept Kazuki smiling and laughing for hours after that with stories of the village where she grew up, as she rubbed ointment onto every bruise and cleaned and stitched every cut. Her friendly smile had held until he left the room, then she fell to her knees and broke down.
“I apologize for the violent behavior,” Mukaze says, cutting off a fight before it can start. “I take it you are a supporter of Shirayuki’s?”
“Yes, and I’m going to rescue her,” the prince says, and Obi believes him.
When Mukaze said he was sending a team to let the Claw know Kazuki was under their protection, Obi had been the first one to volunteer. He had hoped to sneak back without her noticing, but of course, she had waited up for him. Her eyes latched onto his shirt, splattered in blood that wasn’t his, and she held out her hand. “I’ll do the laundry in the morning,” was all she said.
He fingers the knives in his belt. Apparently his message wasn’t clear enough before. This time, he’ll have to make it stick.
Kazuki lies curled up against the wall, trembling with cold. He can’t stop taking gasping breaths, as though his body hasn’t yet figured out it’s safe from the ocean’s clutches. For now, at least. Shirayuki crawls over to him, taking one hand in hers and pressing her fingers over his wrist. His heart trembles as bad as his body, and she forces back tears. “Breathe,” she whispers. “Breathe slow. You’re safe now.” But for how long? A cruel voice whispers in her mind, but she shoves it away.
“I—I’m sorry,” he chokes.
“Shh. Don’t—“
“I-i-it’s m-my fault. They were—were f-f-following me—“
She squeezes his hand. “It’s not your fault.” She slides closer to him and pulls him up, wrapping her arms around him and sliding her shoulder under his head. His skin feels like ice against hers, and her dress soaks up the water dripping from his clothes and hair, but she holds him tight, and slowly his breathing slows to match hers.
The ship jostles, and he jerks up. “We’ve set sail!”
She clenches her fists in her skirts to keep them from trembling. “We’ll be fine. Obi will come for us.”
“Yeah . . .” He swallows, and nods slowly. “Yeah, you’re right.”
The door swings open, and he leaps to his feet in front of her, though he wobbles slightly. But the pirate just shoves a new figure into the room with a laugh. “Enjoy the company.”
“Hey, wait—“ Kazuki starts, but the door slams again, and the woman in front of them sits up, letting her hood fall to her shoulders.
Shirayuki gasps. “Kiki!”
Kazuki casts a nervous glance at Kiki, then back at her. “Wait, do you know her?”
Kiki turns to look at him. “Are you Kazuki? The general is worried about you.”
He doesn’t move, just . . . shrinks somehow, as though he doesn’t know what to do with the space he takes up. “Pops?”
Kiki turns back to Shirayuki. “Thank goodness I got thrown in here with you right away. I’m here to help, so don’t worry. Zen is also on his way.”
The world stops and — shifts. Or maybe she’s just been looking at it the wrong way all this time. “He . . . he came to Tanbarun?” Her voice catches on the words, and Kiki’s smile is kind and understanding.
“He did. He came to get you.”
Her eyes well with tears. She had known Obi would come for her—that was never a question—but it had never occurred to her that he might not be the only one.
“You can go home,” Kiki says gently, and the tears spill over.
To think she used to complain about Obi’s drills.
Now she twists her wrists, feeling how much give the ropes has, and whether she can reach the knots. She can’t. It doesn’t matter, though. It’ll be easier to cut them, and Obi made sure she was quick enough at that to startle any attackers.
But for now, she waits, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Kazuki, and they march through the cave. She doesn’t know what she’s waiting for, but Kiki has a plan, and she trusts her.
Kiki stumbles closer, enough to put her mouth close to Shirayuki’s ear. “You and Kazuki, run for that empty space.”
Shirayuki doesn’t hesitate. She drops, reaching into her boot for the small blade she keeps there, slashes the ropes tying her hands, and cuts Kazuki’s, then grabs his hand and drags him away as Kiki holds of the pirates with—is that a sword? Where had that come from?
Mitsuhide appears out of nowhere, sword in hand. “Don’t lay a hand on my partner.”
A cloud of white fills her vision, as a cape swirls and stops in front of her. Zen looks over his shoulder at her as familiar shouts and cries fill the chamber from every side. The lions’ battlecry. Her heart swells as she stares at the prince, his aides, the men and women from her father’s village.
They came for her. All of them.
As careful and silent as a panther, Obi lands in front of her, knives glittering in his hands. He doesn’t look at her, and she swallows her shout. He doesn’t need a distraction. Not now.
“Master, Mistress, get behind me.”
She hates it when he uses that voice, but she knows better than to disobey, so when Zen snatches up her hand and starts to drag her away, she hikes up her skirts and runs.
They collect Kazuki on the way out, and Zen leads them up a set of stairs, away from shouts and scraping of metal. Then, halfway up the stairs, Kazuki freezes.
“What’s wrong?” Zen asks, stealing the words before she can use them.
“The chief,” he whispers, and her heart pounds in her chest. “I heard him.” He starts to run—down the stairs this time. “I’m going back.”
“Wait—“ Zen starts, but Shirayuki’s cry cuts him off.
“Kazuki!”
He stops, turning back, “I’m sorry. I have to.”
She knows how he feels, so she bites her lip on everything she wants to say, and nods. He turns around and takes off again.
“It’s over,” Zen says, as he tugs her into his arms. “You’re safe now.”
Safe .
Her breath starts to come faster and faster as it hits her just how far she’s been from safe all this time, and relief knocks open the floodgates of the panic and hurt and horror and—
“Shirayuki, say something.”
“Z—zen.” She means to continue, to say thank you or sorry or how did you find me, but every word sticks in her throat as sobs wrack her body and send her trembling too hard to do anything but clutch onto him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, arms tightening around her.
Footsteps clatter against the stone floor, and Shirayuki looks up as Zen walks back into the room, flanked on either side by Kiki and Mitsuhide.
“Thank you,” he tells Shikito, “For standing guard. It’s over now.”
Her tears had finally stopped, but they start up again as the three of them come towards her. “Zen, Mitsuhide, Kiki—“ The tears clog her throat, preventing any real expression of gratitude, but they smile at her, and she thinks they understand. Mitsuhide reaches over to ruffle her hair.
She glances around, searching the shadows, for another figure, but they’re disappointingly empty. “Where’s Obi?” She asks, though she should have known he would vanish. He always does after a fight.
“Still down below,” Mitsuhide says.
The door opens to admit two more figures, and if she couldn’t have Obi, well this is the next best thing. He may not be the larger-than-life hero she had hoped for as a child, but he’s confident and strong and she never has to worry when he’s there—
His gaze meets hers, and he smiles. Her knees buckle with relief as she gasps out, “Dad.”
Then she freezes when she catches sight of four sets of wide eyes, staring at her.
“Dad?!”