Winter's End
Summary: Twelve months between Clarines and Lyrias. OneShot- Complete cast. (When the snow melts, spring begins.)
Warning: Might cause tooth ache due to the sugar content.
Set: Roughly between ch. 73 and 74.
Disclaimer: Standards apply. Some names have been adjusted and/or invented (Higata's first name, Zen and Izana's second name and Kiki's first name), plus, they're all used in the "European" form, meaning: first name, then family name.
My excuse, really, to write some vague Garaku/Shidan.
Prompts: i) They might be apart, but they are always together. ii) Even years later, it is hard to drink his tea and not think of what could have been. iii) Shirayuki, on Zen. And distances.
1.
Shuuichi Higata loves his job.
His grandfather was gardener at the Royal Castle, and he used to take his grandson to play in the gardens while he worked. It was his gramps who taught Higata the secrets of growing and tending to medicinal plants, who awakened his love for botany and healing. He has dreamed of becoming a Royal Apothecary ever since, and here he is: in Wistalia Castle, heart of Clarines. He has passed his exam and now is working under the famous head apothecary. Shuuichi loves his job, he really does. It is everything he ever dreamed about: challenge, satisfaction, his place to learn and teach and grow. And yet: sometimes he wonders whether he is just a glorified kindergardener.
This woman is insufferable.
"I asked you to clean up the mess here yesterday, but you haven't lifted a finger!"
She is asleep on the sofa, in the middle of the chaos that is the head apothecary's office.
"WAKE UP!"
As much as Garaku Gazelt infuriates him, he admires her: her intelligence, dedication and knowledge are endless wells of inspiration. She has taught him much of what he knows and he expects her to surprise him, daily, with more. She might have a horrible bedside manner when people infuriate her. But she is also kind and patient with children, and she works harder than anyone he knows.
Now, she blinks at him, pretending not to be quite awake yet.
"You were supposed to put back these files," he grumbles at her.
She yawns and stretches, and gets up to prepare her tea. The fact that the water is still hot is proof that, once again, she has not slept much, but one cannot tell from her cheerful face. "Relax, Higata." The Royal Head Apothecary is probably ten years older than he is, but she does not look her age. Her smile can be nice, if it does not carry the undercurrent of there is work to be done and guess who's doing it. "I will clean up before lunch. Have a cup of tea!"
Sighing – because he has learned that it is of no use to contradict her, stubborn as she is – Shuuichi puts down the files he has been holding and accepts the tea. It is warm, and the soft scent is flowery and – somewhat earthy, as well. It is not her usual morning tea blend.
"What is it? It smells really good."
The woman he has idolized since he heard of her for the first time smiles. "This is the tea the people of Lyrias drink when the snow stops falling. It's that time of the year right now."
Shuuichi's mouth falls open in surprise. "There's still snow in Lyrias?"
In Clarines, spring has already begun. Tulips, hyacinths and other early-blooming flowers are already casting their colorful light to the castle's surroundings, and it smells like earth and rain.
"Winter must be really long there."
Garaku looks out of the window. "Yes." Her gaze becomes distant, her smile turning inwards just so. But it is still there, clear to see. "For the children, it must have felt like it just flew by."
It is no secret who she means with the kids. Still, there is something else on her face, something deeply... personal.
Shuuichi wonders whether she has many memories of Lyrias.
2.
"Suzu! Suzu, where the heck is the guy, SUZU!"
Shidan's voice sounds angry, Suzu thinks, and he has no idea why. He lifts his head from the scroll he has been studying, The Effect of Iron(III) on the Water Transport in Hydrangeacea, and leans around the corner of the book shelf.
"Yes?"
Now that he has located the fellow scientist, the older man's voice is back to normal noise levels. The annoyance is still very evident, though.
"Did you not get the message? They are waiting!"
Suzu knows pretty well whom Shidan is referring to. "Who is waiting?"
Shidan waves his hand, impatience oozing from every line of his body. "Shirayuki, Ryou, the others. Did you forget about the tea party? Why did I have to come searching for you!"
Suzu slides his reading glasses down his nose and closes his book, and his voice stretches into a lazy drawl.
"A tea party."
The older man rolls his eyes so much it must cause him dizziness. "For all I care the world could be ending tomorrow, but they won't leave me alone until you are there, as well. So will you please move your behind, now?"
He really loves this: riling up Shidan. The man carries such a rigidly controlled mask in public that it is funny to break through it, a challenge to confuse him and make him show some real emotion. It's what Suzu does, what every scientist does, in a way: peeking behind the evident, finding the reasons for the unknown. Suzu smirks. Shidan is just another book he cannot quite read, but he will figure him out eventually.
Shirayuki and the others have gathered in their usual place, a niche in the large corridors of the pharmaceutical library. The soft scent of tea wafts towards Suzu as he and Shidan approach.
"A perfect time for a Spring Celebration," Suzu says by way of greeting, and all the members of their little group turn.
"Spring Celebration?" Shirayuki inquires, frowning. Yuzuri and Ryou have equally confused expressions, while the dark-haired knight only grins. Only Kirito, Kazuha and Shidan look like they know what he is talking about, and Shidan sighs in exasperation and drops into one of the last two free chairs.
"You don't know the Spring Celebration?" Kirito cries. "I thought this was the reason for the meeting today!"
Obi grins his shit-eating grin and crosses his arms behind his head. "So tell us about that celebration, squirt."
Before Kirito can protest the use of the nickname, Suzu explains.
"When the snow stops falling, the people of Lyrias gather to celebrate the end of winter. There is a special tea they drink, and they have sweets and little games for the children…"
"So that's why you brought this tea, Kirito?" Shirayuki asks, her smile wide, and inhales. "It smells delicious!"
She sets down her own cup to hands both Suzu and Shidan a cup of the fragrant liquid. Suzu accepts his and watches Shidan take a sip. His eyes close, for a second, like he is remembering something –
"You know who kinda initiated this tradition?" He asks and happily ignores the glare Shidan shoots him. "Shidan," Suzu continues, knowing he is probably looking like the proverbial smug cat that ate the canary. "When he was a student, he experimented a lot and -"
"Shut up," Shidan growls at him. "I didn't discover it -"
"Or was it Magister Gazelt's discovery?" Suzu pretends to think, ignoring the older man's death-glares. "I don't know if I still can get the story right-"
"Garaku sure as hell had nothing to do with that tea!" Shidan reaches out to the dish full of pastries, takes one and proceeds to stuff it into Suzu's mouth.
The kids laugh. Shidan glowers.
These are Suzu's favorite kind of experiments.
3.
"This is your schedule for today," Kiki says as she hands Zen the folder. "There are two diplomats arriving, and you promised Lord Haruka to look over the list of potential brides."
The morning sun reaches the tree tops of the forest that second and illuminates the office. There was dew on the leaves when she passed through the courtyard this morning, and the droplets of water had looked like crystals on precious, vividly green velvet.
Zen collapses into himself with a groan. "Again? How am I going to shake them off this time?"
He makes her smile.
Sometimes, Kiki wonders how it came that in the space of so few years she has come to love this person so much. Prince Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince and current heir to the throne of Clarines, is far from perfect. But he is a hard-working, dutiful prince, a most loyal friend and a kind and honest man, and that, in Katherine Seiran's eyes, is more than many other people of aristocratic descent and high standing can claim for themselves. He always has a smile on his lips and words of encouragement for the people around him, no matter how hard he works and no matter their social standing, and, most of all: he cared for her enough to want her, to take her in and make her one of his no matter her upbringing, her loyalties and her character. He still cares for her; he still wants her in a way nobody else wanted Kiki before. She has been a daughter and a heiress and a marriage prospect, and she certainly has been loved and wanted for it. But Zen did not want her for any of those things; he had just offered her a place in his home and in his heart for the sake of it, and she will never forget it. Kiki never had siblings. It feels like Zen is her little brother, now.
He probably hears the smile in her voice. "You will work something out." And if he does not, Mitsuhide and she can still pay some people a visit... "And His Majesty is awaiting your report from the Raxd garrison."
"I should just have stayed there." Zen mutters and rests his head on his desk for a few more seconds before he straightens again. The determination in his eyes is beautiful.
"Then let's get this day started, shall we? Where's Mitsuhide?"
They mostly share the morning shift, but Mitsuhide was called away after their sparring earlier by the Captain of the Royal Guard. Kiki proceeds to explain but a knock stops her. The door opens and Kiki's partner and Zen's First Sword and aide enters. A cheerful smile, dappled silver-and-grey hair, storm-grey eyes and a tall figure: there is no mistaking him for anyone else. He sends a smile in Kiki's direction – she nods back – and drops another ten or so folders on their liege lord's desk.
"Good morning, Zen. Here are the latest reports from Celeg, the ones you wanted to go over before we set out for the inspection."
"Why did I ever say something?" The Prince stretches, yawning. "At least we can look forward to being on the road again, so we'll better get this done. I want to know about everything that happened in Celeg in the past half year. His Majesty must have a reason when he specifically sends us there... And I'm sure you missed the Vice-commander, did you not, Mitsuhide."
His eyes twinkling, he looks at Kiki. Mitsuhide's painful grimace is expected. She gets why he dislikes Hisame, she really does, but he also never makes a move. So Kiki has no qualms letting Zen torture him a bit.
The Prince reaches for his pen, opens the first folder and asks over the edge of it: "Can we have some tea first, please?"
Kiki suppresses her smile and walks towards the door. "I'll ask for some."
When she turns around again Zen is already buried in his work. Mitsuhide at his side explains some details, leaning over the side of the desk. The morning sun breaks through the clouds and illuminates the room, lights up the world. Bent over the report as they are, Zen's and Mitsuhide's hair mingles, gold and silver, and Kiki thinks –
"Your Highness?"
The maid in the door is pushing a trolley carrying tea, cups and some pastries. Zen shoots her a distracted smile.
"Good morning, Mila. Please, come in. And thank you."
Kiki concentrates on checking the Prince's correspondence, the soft clinking of porcelain and cutlery is the only sound in the room for some time. Then, the trickle of tea. Kiki watches Mitsuhide from the corner of her eyes as he lifts the cup, his own concentration fixed on Zen's writing, and takes a sip.
"The tea is different, today."
The maid almost drops the honey bowl into his lap. He catches it absentmindedly and places it back as she blushes to the roots of her hair and apologizes profusely.
Kiki is struck by how strange it feels: a few years back and Mitsuhide would have been equally flustered as the maid, blushing and apologizing to the woman so close to him.
"It's a special blend from Lyrias," she stutters, but her voice strengthens when she sees Zen's interested glance. "They drink it when spring begins. The Queen said you'd like to taste it..."
Mitsuhide smiles at her kindly. "It's delicious. Thank you."
He does not see the girl's blush darken even more as she hurriedly leaves the room, but Kiki does.
"Lyrias," Zen says, gazing into the distance distractedly. Kiki stops him from having to drink honey with tea instead of tea with honey and he grins at her, ruefully. "Thank you. I was just wondering what Shirayuki and Obi are up to."
Mitsuhide's gaze when he looks at Zen - she has never been able to describe it. It carries respect, but also a certain indulgence. And pride, and - "Reports say the wave of influenza that hits the country every winter has passed without casualties. They sure worked hard."
"It's been a year already." Kiki can hear the wistfulness in Zen's words. "It sure doesn't feel like it."
He is not quite telling the truth, she knows. Because the year that passed felt like eternity to all of them and yet passed so quickly, with all the travels they have conducted at His Majesty's request, all the garrisons they have inspected, the patrols they have accompanied and the diplomats they have met. And the separation is something they still chafe under, all of them, even if they do not have time to think of it most of the day.
Strange, how they have come to feel so incomplete just because a part of their group is not in the same city and -
Mitsuhide's hand connects solidly with the back of Zen's head and, less solidly but still substantially, with Kiki's. "Stop moping around! We'll meet them again soon. We just have to work all the harder, to get the time to pass faster!"
"Hey!" Zen's indignant tone is softened, though. There is fondness in his eyes as he regards Mitsuhide, and just like that, some of his melancholy is gone. Kiki, too, feels the wistfulness lift. Mitsuhide is right. What use it is to dwell on it? They are doing their best, and so are Obi and Shirayuki. She is proud of them, proud of Zen. Proud of what these kids strive to do, how hard they work every day. And – Mitsuhide. This is one of the things she loves most about him: the way he always senses their melancholy, hers and Zen's, and the way he makes an effort to cheer them up even though he usually gets a jab from Zen's elbow and a scary glance from her and no thanks at all.
Like today.
"Shut up and have some breakfast," Zen says and pushes the basket with sweet buns at his knight. "Or, wait, if you're so cheerful in the morning, leave these to Kiki and me. We need the sugar more than you do." And away the basket goes, towards Kiki.
Mitsuhide grasps for air, protests and pretends to be offended. Kiki takes a bun and hands the basket to Mitsuhide, who passes it back to Zen. Zen bites into the sweet pastry and turns back to the reports on his desk.
"Let's get on with this!"
Their eyes meet over Zen's head, and the warmth she sees in Mitsuhide's eyes gives her strength.
4.
Ryou has grown taller again.
It is, currently, the way she measures the passing of days. They have been in Lyrias for more than a year, now, and it has begun to feel like home.
No, not merely begun: it was her home right from the beginning.
Shirayuki is not a person who clings to insubstantial things like reputations, money or places. Instead, she believes in making homes for oneself. Her grandparent's tavern was a home, because Gran and Gramps were there; because Shirayuki loved the sound of clinking mugs and music and laughter. Castle Wistalia was her home because she was invited there and was allowed to make a place for herself, because Kiki and Mitsuhide and Obi were there and made her feel welcome, and – Zen. The castle was her home because Zen was there, because his smile and the warmth of his hand and the strength in his voice caught her when she doubted herself, because his absolute trust in her caught her and made her feel wanted. And now, Lyrias is her home, the place in which she is determined to learn everything she can in order to be able to become a worthy Royal Apothecary one day. So she can stand next to Zen and have something of her own to bring to the table; and besides, Ryou and Suzu and Yuzuri and Kazuha and Kirito are there, as well, and more than anything, a home is a place where the people one loves are.
But oh, she misses him.
She misses Zen. Misses him with an intensity she hasn't expected, misses his smile and his touch and the way he would watch her as if even the smallest of her tasks was as interesting to him as a diplomatic incident. She misses seeing him in the morning and in the evening, when they return to their palace wing. She misses talking to him, even if only briefly. She misses Kiki and Mitsuhide; misses the servants tasked to keep the apothecary clean, the grumpy librarian and the guards at the Northern Gate who greeted her kindly even when she wasn't a Royal Apothecary's apprentice yet. She misses the blue wisteria over the trellises and the scent of forest that hangs in the salty sea wind. She misses nights in the small library, her shifts in the apothecary and the hours spent in the green houses. She misses seeing Zen from far, passing by, always sparing a smile for her. She misses seeing Kiki and Mitsuhide spar, and Obi dropping in through windows to tease Zen. She misses the Head Apothecary and Higata. She misses Wistalia.
I never needed anyone before.
It is easy to think like that; but it is true, too. Before she came to Clarines, she never had given anyone her heart in the way she has given it to the Second Prince. It was so much easier being by herself, only responsible for her own fate. Then she found that her thoughts strayed towards the blonde prince at the oddest of times, that his touch made her blush and his words made her fall; and suddenly, it was too late. She has never regretted it, merely wondered.
And now she misses him: his kindness, stubbornness, his determination and his laughter. His blue, honest eyes; the warmth of his hand when he touched her face. She misses him so much she wants to talk to someone about it but she cannot because nobody can know, and she cannot talk to Obi because he is too close. Shirayuki never wished for a friend before; now, suddenly, she wishes she could talk to a stranger. It is easier, it really is.
Twelve months.
At least she has something to show for. The first year of her time in Lyrias is over; she has used it well. If the second one passes as quickly as the first one did, she will have concluded her training here within the blink of an eye. So what after Lyrias? What will be her task once she is not needed here anymore? Will King Izana really send her to Wilant? Will Ryou stay behind? Where will Zen be? Will she still be able to see him, and, if so, will she really be able to stand at his side the way she wishes to?
There are so many questions, so many uncerntainties in her future. Shirayuki always was a patient person, but sometimes, now, she feels raw with wait.
And want.
Outside her window, Lyrias' eternal winter is slowly followed by spring. The air is already considerably warmer; fragrant, rich and temperamental. Oh-so-different to Wistalia.
She wonders whether Shidan, who has a tea for everything, has a tea for heartache, too.
5.
Izana Pax Wistalia, King of Clarines, is a handsome man.
At least, people in general and women, specifically, seem to agree on this. Haki Allurion, on the other hand, likes to keep her thoughts to herself. She supposes they are right, in a manner of speaking: his silver-and-blond hair, his expressive eyes and his broad shoulders are striking. But then, certain men draw their handsomeness from their power, and Haki is quite adamant about herself having no illusions about that.
She is the Royal Consort, though. There is no need for her to see beauty in power.
"Mylady."
He told her there was no need for her to address him by his formal title, but she can count the times he has uttered her name on two hands.
"Your Majesty. I brought you some refreshments."
His eyes are tired. Sometimes, Haki wonders: does nobody ever notice it? It feels like there are two men in the one man she married. One of them is constantly polite, cool and ever-so-much demanding; the king, the leader, the commander. The other one, however, is a mere man, a man who gets impatient and annoyed, serious and tired, and whose exhaustion is clear for her to see. But nobody else aside from her seems to know this other man, nobody else sees him: the man who loves his kingdom and his brother more than anything; the man who, after a long day of work, returns to his chamber to continue reading even then because there is work to be done. The man who doubts his own decisions in the soft silence of the night, and allows nobody to intrude on him. Haki might be the only one who knows this man exists; but she does not know him, either. Izana Wistalia is not a person who lets other people get close, especially not the type of people usually held close for convenience, alliances, diplomacy and power.
Now he smiles ever-so-briefly at her words, one of his usual, cool smiles. But there is something in his eyes that makes her hands shake. She puts down the tray and clasps them together firmly.
"Gentlemen," he turns towards his aides and advisors. "Let us take a break. We will continue in one hour."
His advisors shuffle from the room, bowing to her on their way out. Haki smiles and nods, nods and smiles, until the only people present are her husband, Haki and their aides.
"You, too."
Izana exchanges a glance with his aide; and Haki's personal guard follows the King's Sword through the door. It closes behind them, softly, and Haki is alone with her husband.
Her king.
Izana leans back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a heartbeat of exhaustion she doubts he would have shown anyone else. It makes her happy, that he trusts her enough – and, at the same time, it stings.
She pours him tea, instead.
Izana accepts the filled cup from her without a word. His hand brushes hers; Haki forces herself not to start at the warmth of his skin. She pours herself a cup, as well, carefully reigning herself in, and takes a sip.
The tea is sweet, fragrant, so different from the tea Clarines has to offer. It tastes like home, and she wants to cry. She smiles instead.
"How do you like the tea, Your Majesty?"
Izana looks at her without smiling and not for the first time she thinks she is the only one who never receives his easy smile. It makes her wonder how many masks he has, and whether there is an occasion when he does not show any of his but only his own, true emotions.
"It is from Lyrias, is it not? Does it remind you of your home?"
He looks at her directly and there is something in his eyes that makes her shiver. Two can play a game, she thinks, not for the first time. Even to her own ears, it sounds desperate, but she does not allow her sentiments to influence her voice.
"My home is here now, Your Majesty."
"Are you so easily uprooted?"
She is wearing a scarf against the night chill that cannot completely be banned from the thick walls of the castle. Its soft, white wool was harvested and spun in Lyrias. She conducts her tasks as the lady of the castle in the way she was taught to do them by her grandmother; her thick, light hair is braided in the style of the Northern Realms. Her white skin burns easily under the heat of Clarines' summer sun. Haki Allurion is a child born and bred in the cold seasons of the North: she will always be.
"Roots change constantly. They grow and expand."
"So they do." Suddenly, his smile is back, but it is not the one he shows to his advisors. The same person, and yet different. It takes her breath away every time.
They sip their tea, silently. Outside, the stars come out, a million lights in the velvet night sky.
"Haki."
Izana has finished his tea, he sets down his cup onto his desk and stretches out a hand.
"Come here."
She does.
6.
Higata left and took his pretended grumbling with him.
Garaku will never every say it out loud, but she likes the guy. He is quick, clever and knows his stuff; there are years when she searches for an apprentice like him in vain. Good students are rare; she still thanks every god who might listen that she found two so promising candidates in one year's haul of students. Not to speak of Ryou, some years prior. Shirayuki is quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with; with the rate she has been going, Garaku can probably advise the king to assign her to Wilant Castle within one more year. Ryou, she has always slated for Lyrias; he has the scholarly attitude necessary to deal with the other scholars and the organization skills to keep everything else under control in the City of Tents and Knowledge. And Higata is dependable and no fool; he will make a good Head of the Royal Apothecary in Wistalia Castle, one day.
Three such promising students. It seems like she can soon hang her uniform coat up and focus on her studies only.
Carefully, Garaku places the scrolls back into the shelves and begins to stack the reports and papers littering her desk; one stack for work that still is to be done, one for finished ones, one for a courier to each Lyrias, Wilant and the garrisons of Raxd and Celeg. Aside from the fact that it annoys Higata, she does not like disorder much, herself. Shidan was always able to actually control his chaos; in the midst of the greatest mess he still would find every scrap of paper, every misplaced journal, within seconds while it took her hours to search for something that got lost despite her organized desk. Maybe there is something true in the saying about geniuses controlling the chaos but Garaku would rather have a clean desk and the reputation of being a stickler than being hailed as a genius that defies entropy.
Shidan.
The scent of the tea still lingers in the room, earthy and light, like the first breath of spring blowing away the heavy winter winds.
So familiar.
The end of winter always is a special time in Lyrias. When she had been studying in the Pharmaceutical Library, Garaku used to climb the roof of the building to watch the snow slowly melt away. The tea reminds her of the view from up there, of the colors slowly rising from the uniform, white snow. The world coming back to life, bit by bit, leaving behind the memory of winter and the promise of warmth. Sometimes, Shidan would be there, too, just sitting next to her. Those had been the few times they had neither fought nor discussed. Just them, the silence, and the melting snow.
Clarines is beautiful. The castle, the gardens, the green houses; the antagonism of ocean and mountains, forest and steep coast. And Garaku loves her work, more than anything; the good she can do; the people she can help. She loved research but she loves the actual thing more. Filling the store rooms in fall, preparing medecins during winter, curing the illnesses that crop up during rain seasons, overseeing the health and condition of the Royal Family and all the people in the castle and its surroundings. Garaku loves what she can do, the challenges she can rise up to, and the way she can share her knowledge with students like Ryou, Shirayuki and Higata.
She loves it here - but she misses Lyrias.
Lyrias. Cold winters, icy hallways and warm, cozy rooms. The fragrant tea, sometimes spiked. The endless rows of books in the library. Learning, researching, getting to know so much about the world around her. The classes, seminars, interesting talks until far after midnight. Sharing her thoughts -
She misses this, even after years - Do you really miss Lyrias itself?, her mind whispers, traitorously. Or... As usual, it makes her smile. Yes, or. It is a thought she has been carrying around with her for so long it has lost its sting; has gone from painful realization to acceptance, to the pain of a phantom scar. Still, it is as fresh as the day she received it.
I cannot come to Clarines with you. I would forever be inferior to you.
Maybe, if she gives up her title, and he feels like he finally caught up with her – maybe, sometime in the future, they can do some research together again? Maybe, some day, she can return to Lyrias?
Some day.
Those long winters in Lyrias, so long past: working with Shidan, fighting him, each pushing the other. Days that remind her of warmth despite the howling wind and the icy snow, remind her of crackling fire, the sound of paper rustling and the scent of his tea. These past days that were so short and so precious, the days that have taught her so much...
Most of all, they have taught her patience.
Garaku catches herself smiling at her reflection in the window.
Summer is coming.