blessed are the ignorant

Summary: It always had been a mystery to him how Mitsuhide could so easily and completely misunderstand Kiki. OneShot/Introspection- Zen, musing on one half of his personal stupid coup- ahem, pair of aides.

Warning: Plot-lessness, references to various chapters, introspection.

Set: Somewhere around Chapter 46.

Disclaimer: Standards apply.

This grew from a discussion I had with CherryPop0120. Thank you for the inspiring exchange! Also, thanks to Arya for reviewing "across the sky" and for making my day.

In the opinion of His Highness the Second Prince Zen Wistalia of Clarines ignorance wasn't, as the proverb stated, bliss, but rather inexcusable.

Sometimes, it was tolerable. Children didn't know better, for example, as their age and their missing experience obscured the view on many things adults had more or less easy access to. There also were things that were somewhat acceptable if one didn't know them – how should a person who never had been out of his own country and had never met a foreigner know about traditions and customs in other countries, for example? And if someone worked as a farmer for all his life it was somewhat expected that one did not know much about healing, politics and diplomacy. However, there were other things that could be learned, either by watching, reading or by talking to other people, and those things were important. When it came to acceptance and courtesy, for example, or to basic human interaction. At some point, a grown human being – an adult! – had the responsibility to know certain things. Wasn't that what adulthood was all about? Ignorance of the law did not protect from punishment, as long as one was old enough to be familiar with the rules. Zen, having grown up with all the responsibilities and duties of a member of the Royal Family hammered into him, had learned this long ago and he tended to take it seriously.

But there were other kinds of ignorance.

The kind that didn't concern facts, history, basic behavior patterns and common courtesy. There was a certain knowledge and experience involved when it came to understanding human beings, too: their expressions, the often hidden meaning behind words, the intentions broadcasted in the things that weren't said. Zen would never have called himself an expert where people were concerned – he wasn't the master of manipulation his brother was, not by far – but he prided himself in at least understanding (or, trying hard to understand) the motives and feelings of the people around him. It probably helped that he had Shirayuki: she had taken his arrogance down a substantial few notches and had broadened his horizon, and with every new day that she was by his side he learned more and more. His royal brother had steered him towards the path of duty, leadership and commitment, Obi had shown him the power and responsibility that came with being the master of a person of his own free will, Kiki had taught him loyalty and to strive towards one's own goals, and Mitsuhide that a sword did not only protect oneself. That sometimes, one had to rely on others. Mitsuhide had shown him that the unconditional trust his aides, Obi and Shirayuki placed in Zen was something precious and rare and that he had the duty of proving himself worthy of it again and again and every day. Knowing all this, Zen had the feeling he was pretty well-equipped for the path that had been laid before him already at the moment of his birth. He had promised himself to never again be carelessly ignorant of the needs and the worries of the people around him, however mundane they were.

However, there was ignorance and there was ignorance; and his sworn protector, Sword and aide Mitsuhide Rouen easily managed to take the latter to a new level.

As the Second Prince of Clarines, Zen knew he had the duty to find a bride his people would approve of. That in itself wasn't the problem. He was pretty sure Shirayuki would - with her inherent kindness, gentleness and intelligence – easily capture the peoples' hearts as easily as she had won the approval of the people working in the Palace. Of course she wasn't of the correct social standing, but it wasn't uncommon for the princes of Clarines to marry below their status as long as they weren't in direct line for succession. No. The actual problem was that it was Zen's duty to present his chosen bride to the public and since he couldn't do this to Shirayuki just yet – not as long as he hadn't completely declared his intentions to her, which included making her his bride and spending his life with her – he had to resort to other measures.

Or, more precisely: His Royal Brother had to resort to other measures for him.

The fact that Izana hadn't taken Kiki's name of the list told Zen volumes.

It wasn't the name that left Kiki's mouth that surprised him but the implications of it.

"It's Mitsuhide."

She said it matter-of-fact, calmly, in that uniquely quiet-but-strong way of speaking Kiki had. The small smile playing around her lips made her eyes light up and for a second Zen didn't see her with his own eyes but with those of a stranger: she was beautiful.

Maybe it was the revelation that Kiki was a woman, too, that made him falter and delayed his answer. But it was also because what she had just told him and what he perhaps had always known, deep in his own heart, clashed so terribly with the way both she and Mitsuhide behaved. Or maybe it was just Mitsuhide? Because when Zen thought about it, the clues were pretty much there. Kiki had never relied on anyone before. Only after Mitsuhide had so clearly positioned himself at her back, naively and determinedly promising her to always be there, she had found the strength to show her weaknesses. It had always been Zen, Mitsuhide and Kiki before Shirayuki and Obi had joined them. And Kiki did turn towards Mitsuhide in a way she never did towards any other person, not even towards Zen. Hadn't he seen proof of that? So how was it that her partner had never realized, never even thought about the possibility–

But then, Mitsuhide always had been clueless enough to make Zen feel outright embarrassed for him.

Zen felt silent contentment bubble up in his chest. If Mitsuhide's attention was called on this, he would reciprocate: the Second Prince knew his Sword well enough to predict this, at least. Mitsuhide had never shown any remote interest in women, probably because he was so focused on serving Zen. It was good to know that there was someone willing to share his duty and responsibility, someone who understood him well enough to not be bothered by the level of devotion and time the knight put into serving his Prince. Kiki and Mitsuhide were already perfect together on a professional level and Zen was certain they would be so on a private level, as well. If anything, Mitsuhide's reaction to the fact that Kiki hadn't told him she would leave the castle had been a clear indication. One day, of course, they would be separated, but Zen wouldn't let them break apart. He owed his aides that much, at least.

So he grabbed his sheathed sword and propped himself down, smiling at Kiki over the cross-hilt of his weapon.

"But he's audacious enough to not even think of letting anyone else have your back."

Kiki lowered her gaze, but there was nothing demure in the gesture. "That suits me just fine."

It was amazing, Zen thought, how her smiling face was not much different than her usual expression and yet how much it transformed her. On the other side of the hall his other knight and his personal messenger stood, watching them. It seemed Obi was trying to make Mitsuhide feel uncomfortable: from his own experience, that wouldn't work as long as he didn't whip out at least one other woman and some very silly come-ons.

Zen grinned at the sight. "Let Mitsuhide figure it out all for himself, then."

Kiki's smile was still visible.

How long, he wondered with a pang of worry, had she already been waiting for Mitsuhide? And how long was she willing to wait?

Zen wasn't quite sure how his aide did it.

Mitsuhide was incredibly perceptive when it came to his, Zen's, moods. He often knew something was up in the castle even before Zen knew. He knew how to manipulate Obi (and also what to do when the shinobi was up to no good) and how to reassure Shirayuki (she told him about their little conversation, that night, when Mitsuhide had been affected by the drug he had inhaled in the laboratory). Unasked, he had felt – that day five years in the past, when everything had begun – that Kiki needed someone to rely on besides herself. Mitsuhide knew when Zen was annoyed, depressed, lonely, attempting to sneak out and even when he was keeping secrets. But while Mitsuhide so easily decoded his liege lord's feelings, he never seemed to grasp those of his partner that went beyond their partnership and friendship.

Could that really be possible?

Could a human being be so perceptive when it came to others, but so incredibly dense when it came to emotions of other people which concerned him himself? Because if it wasn't ignorance, it had to be something else entirely and Zen wasn't sure he liked that prospect. Mitsuhide was a trained knight, after all, and training for the protectors of the Kings of the Realm did not only encompass mere fighting and defending. Some knights became spies, after all, or entered the service of noblemen who had them act both as their shields and their aides. If Mitsuhide's cluelessness wasn't real it had to be a perfect, uncanny, virtually undetectable act. Zen had never thought Mitsuhide to be capable of such a deception: if he was, he had hidden it from his Prince for the entire time of their acquaintance. And that would mean everything Zen knew about him was an act. That was unlikely – Zen knew and felt that Mitsuhide didn't deceive him, that he was just the way he was. He was stupidly honest and painfully open, so awkward with other women that it hurt, so stupidly devoted that he would give his life without a second thought if it would save Zen's.

He was Mitsuhide.

And it wasn't as if Kiki was carrying her feelings for her partner on her sleeve, either, even though Zen had realized them. Kiki didn't blush. She didn't stutter. She barely even smiled. But when she did, Mitsuhide was either the reason or the topic. In return, Mitsuhide had never allowed any other person than himself to protect Zen, or to be partnered up with Kiki. He was fiercely protective, his trust in her unshakable. He even went as far as to openly oppose a nobleman without any apparent reason – something Zen hadn't seen Mitsuhide do ever – when it came to Kiki. It was clear to the world that he regarded his partner as a precious person, but above that? Nothing. No hint, no slip of tongue. If Zen were a bored old spinster spending her days wheedling information out of other people in order to arrange marriages, he'd be bored to death before he would have gathered any information. It seemed Mitsuhide still was as clueless as the first day they had met, when he had innocently (ignorantly?) thought Kiki to be a man.

(That mistake was impossible to grasp for Zen, as well. How could Mitsuhide, this trained soldier with an excellent eye for people, not recognize the woman in front of him as the lady he had met at the ball mere two days ago? That wasn't like him at all.)

As Zen had told Kiki, he had questioned Mitsuhide after the two of them had ridden to Evergreen Manor to speak with Kiki's father about altering her promise so she could stay at the castle.

Mitsuhide hadn't looked different at their return, just a bit uncomfortable. Zen hadn't been unable to judge whether that was because they had ridden for two days straight with only small breaks and he'd come to Zen right away without even taking a shower or changing clothes, or due to something else entirely. (No doubt Mitsuhide had been terrified his and Kiki's combined absence could have caused some kind of minor drama to happen, something like Zen jumping out of the window or such, which – Please! He had some common sense, after all – hadn't happened quite that often, lately. And besides, he'd never injured himself. Mitsuhide was such a worrywart, sometimes.)

"Lord Seiran agreed to let Kiki remain at the palace for more than the initially agreed five years, but also said he would recall her earlier if he thought it was important."

"So?" Zen had frowned, his mind partly occupied with something else entirely. Then he'd looked up and seen his aide's face, and his mind sharpened.

"That's it." Mitsuhide hid it well, but Zen had had years and years to learn when his Sword was hiding something from him.

"Is it really?"

He could sense his discomfort: a fight between his loyalty to Zen and to Kiki was taking place clear on his face. A few years – perhaps even months – back, there would have been no question for Mitsuhide as to whom he owed more loyalty. Something had happened, Zen realized, something mind-shatteringly important, so important to Mitsuhide that he was clearly debating keeping it from his Prince. And that was why Zen wanted to know what it was, and that was why the knight continued: the message in his lord's eyes was clear.

(He told himself he needed to know in order to gauge how it would influence their interaction, but it had the stale taste of an excuse even to him.)

"He also said he wouldn't mind Kiki's future husband arriving earlier than her."

Zen crossed his arms, his momentary flash of guilt forgotten. "He did? And what was Kiki's answer?"

Mitsuhide looked at the wall straight behind him, his face showing no trace of anything. "Kiki said she would be the one to propose, should it be necessary."

"Aha."

Mitsuhide was still staring at a point behind Zen, his eyes empty. And the Second Prince realized that once again, his personal aide was refusing to see what was directly in front of him. This… It either made him a complete and utter idiot, or a detestable coward.

No.

He had to have his reasons, because Mitsuhide, sure as hell, was neither the one nor the other.

If Zen's way of mind would have gone the same ways as his elder brother's did, he would have thought of it as such: Of course, as a caring and protective liege lord, it was his responsibility to make sure his knight was happy. As it was, the arrangement would even benefit both his Swords. But Zen wasn't his brother and from all the things they had in common, their thoughts often were complete opposites.

He couldn't interfere. Not here, not with them. They were his protectors, his aides, his best friends, and he loved them like siblings. But there were some things – and that, finally, was a lesson well-taught by Izana and well-received by Zen – that had to be left to run their course. Because if Mitsuhide didn't understand what it was that reflected in the tiny sparkle in Kiki's eyes when she looked at him – if he didn't see the way she, unconsciously, leaned towards him – it would be useless. It had to be left to Mitsuhide to develop his understanding of his partner up to the point where he saw what she felt, and to find in himself whether he reciprocated her feelings.

Oh! But sometimes it was a pain, being able to only watch.

Zen knew, in his position as Second Prince and the one responsible for the castles and garrisons in the outer peripheries of Clarines, that Hisame Lugis had been appointed Commander of the knight's garrison of Oleg. Sending Mitsuhide there wasn't necessarily the best of ideas, but Oleg also was Mitsuhide's home and Zen knew how much he missed it. Furthermore, he figured, it would be a good opportunity to give his aide some time to clear his head, away from the Castle (and from Kiki, too).

Kiki smiled her invisible smile when he gave out the order, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. Zen, who knew it had to be there, looked and saw her eyes darken fractionally, but nothing else in her face showed her emotions. Mitsuhide, in contrast, lit up at the prospect of being able to see his old friends and teachers. Zen couldn't begrudge him the happiness: differently to all of them, Mitsuhide had been raised by the knights from his early childhood on. The garrison of Oleg was as much his home as Evergreen Manor was to Kiki, and the Castle was to Zen.

Zen didn't eavesdrop in on his Swords' farewell, but he could imagine it.

"Take care of Zen for me."

"I will."

How, he wondered, could people understand each other so completely and yet be blind to the depth of their attachment?

But instead of happy and relaxed, Mitsuhide returned brooding and silent, and Zen didn't even manage to coax additional information out of him besides the official reports and his own debriefing. He decided to play it flippantly, and to just shoot into the blue.

"You really don't get along with that guy."

Mitsuhide's twitch was virtually undetectable to anyone who didn't know him inside out. Unfortunately for him, Zen did. But instead of answering his knight just brooded; and Zen had no more idea of what had happened at Oleg than he'd had before. He made a mental note to send Obi along with Mitsuhide the next time, just to have a second pair of eyes and second opinion afterwards. But when he accidentally caught a glance at Mitsuhide in the evening, hammering away at some terrified apprentices with a face like thunder, he changed his mind.

He wouldn't send Mitsuhide to Oleg until this wasn't resolved, and if he had to go through his elder brother for it.

Of course there also was another possibility.

It could always be that Mitsuhide really only saw a partner in Kiki, a precious person but nothing more. It would explain his reaction when they had hunted the pirates, his protectiveness towards her which was similar to the one he showed towards Shirayuki. His reaction when they had told him the truth about Kiki's contract with her father. It could be, couldn't it? Maybe, having someone like Kiki was enough for Mitsuhide and he didn't need a lover to share his life and future with. Maybe this was enough for him: this partnership of theirs, his own complete reliance on a person other than himself without having developed deeper ties. Zen couldn't imagine living side by side with Shirayuki and not wanting to touch her, not wanting to hold her every second of the day. But perhaps Mitsuhide was different. Maybe he'd never even seen Kiki as a woman–

No.

Zen was pretty sure Mitsuhide saw her as a woman alright, he had shown so on different occasions. Zen was also pretty sure Mitsuhide saw far more in Kiki than a partner. In contrast to his helplessly idiotic Sword, Zen had eyes and was able to make sense of what he saw.

So what was it?

Hesitance? Fear? Dedication to his liege lord? Did he think Zen would force him to remain by his side forever, unmarried and incomplete? Or did he think it would be a distraction to him when it came to the performance of his duties? It was mind-boggling, this not-knowing, this insecurity over how to act correctly in order to make his best friend happy. Zen felt like he was suspended between two cliffs, not knowing whether his tethers would snap and send him falling or whether he would manage to use one as a climbing rope. Did Mitsuhide really think Zen didn't care for the happiness of two of the most important people in his life? If that really was the case Zen would have to set him straight, painfully if necessary.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he thought that Mitsuhide knew.

When he was younger, Zen playfully (or not so much) had tried to sneak up on Mitsuhide in order to startle him as often as possible. And for some time it worked, in those first weeks of them getting to know each other. The times when the Prince was able to fool his Sword nowadays had gradually become fewer and fewer, though. Zen… Didn't mind it. It meant Mitsuhide cared for him, after all, cared on a level that had him develop a sense of where his charge was at any given time of the day and the night. And since he wasn't as stiff as he had been in the beginning Zen long ago had, albeit grudgingly, accepted that the knight wasn't by his side only because of Izana's orders. Mitsuhide became a part of his life first and was followed by Kiki, Shirayuki and Obi in quick succession, as if the world felt like throwing people at him fast and dirty.

(Running away from Mitsuhide and Kiki still was fun but between the two of them they usually managed to catch him pretty quickly these days. It was like a shout: the way they were in synch, the way they worked together, so obvious, and Zen really, really couldn't understand why Mitsuhide never had been able to look at Kiki and see her the same way he had looked at Zen at their first meeting and had just seen all the things he'd been trying to hide so desperately.)

Sometimes he didn't intend to sneak up on his aides but it happened, nevertheless.

There they were, side by side in the dark training room. From the hallway, light illuminated Kiki's silver and Mitsuhide's two-colored hair. Zen stopped cold.

Kiki's head was leaning against Mitsuhide's shoulder.

He couldn't see whether they were awake or not, but it didn't matter. Carefully, he turned and left again. He had wanted to check whether they already had talked to each other: after Kiki had told Mitsuhide of her limited time, the atmosphere between them had been more than frosty. It seemed like they at least had managed to overcome some things.

Thinking back to that night Zen would have sworn there was more between the two of them than just friendship.

That was why Zen was pretty sure that Mitsuhide was faking at least a bit of his cluelessness. That at least some of it was to distract others from his true feelings, a bit to distract himself, as well, and that a lot more of it probably was due to his sense of responsibility and loyalty to Zen. Zen hoped that maybe, once Kiki wasn't his Sword anymore, Mitsuhide might allow himself to feel what he obviously had put away so carefully. Maybe he was simply directing away everyone's attention – including his own – from what he wished to have because he thought there were more important things. And while Zen did not agree – he wanted his stupid knight to be happy, after all – he could at least understand that both Kiki and Mitsuhide would want to wait until everything had been settled around Shirayuki and him.

Oh, wait.

Did that mean Mitsuhide knew what Kiki felt and Kiki knew what Mitsuhide felt? That was a fascinating thought. Which would mean…

If that much was true, he had no idea how they could stand it. Zen, personally, even knowing he could see Shirayuki every morning and evening, felt like it wasn't close to being enough when the only thing he really wanted was to touch her. And he wanted neither Kiki nor Mitsuhide to give up on their happiness just for his sake. But both his aides had proven, again and again, that they were more stubborn than even Zen himself was. Had Kiki simply accepted Mitsuhide's reasons? Had they fought over it? Had they disagreed, or were they, as so often, completely in agreement? And had they thought about the future? Kiki, after all, wasn't only his knight and Sword but also Katherine Seiran, daughter and heir of the Seiran estate and lands. Would she truly be able to propose to Mitsuhide? Would she be able to not only convince him but also to get the approval of the Lords of the Realm? Well, as long as Zen endorsed the union, there should be no problem. It was just Mitsuhide she had to convince, because Mitsuhide had grown up as a commoner and a knight and Zen couldn't even picture him as the lord husband to Lady Seiran. Besides, he wouldn't leave his Prince. But Kiki had already proven that she was able to convince Mitsuhide of many things. Once he saw she really meant it, he usually gave in. And if he wasn't in love with his partner yet, Zen wouldn't put it past Kiki to get Mitsuhide to fall in love with her. In fact, that probably had been just what had happened–

Zen laughed out loud at the pictures forming in his head.

Wouldn't that just be marvelous?

He expected them to at least let him know once they set a date.

"Mitsuhide, where's Kiki?"

Zen Wistalia of Clarines, Second Prince of the Realm, only received a blank look from his best friend and Sword. "I don't know. Why?"

There was a certain satisfaction in annoying Mitsuhide, he had to admit. He could see why Obi tried it so often. Of course, Mitsuhide tended to react differently to Obi than he did to his Prince.

"Don't you usually spend your days off together?"

"Not always. One of us has to stay and keep an eye on you, after all, so you don't do anything stupid."

Touché, Zen chuckled to himself. Really, the people who thought the man in front of him was clueless and ignorant had been completely fooled. Shrugging, he focused on the paper Mitsuhide was holding in front of him, quickly scanned over the content and signed it with flourish. Mitsuhide sprinkled a bit of sand on the ink to dry it, blew it away and added the folder to the neat stack of files already finished.

"Obi isn't here today, either."

Mitsuhide didn't even look up from what he was reading. Zen felt his smile spread.

"Maybe they are on a date together."

His Sword didn't even blink. "In that case I hope you have another messenger at hand who can replace him."

Zen laughed out loud at the image of Kiki piercing the shinobi with her glares until he dropped. Mitsuhide handed him the next scroll and Zen leaned back to look out of the window. Blue sky, bright sun. The ocean in the distance looked like a silver-and-blue carpet.

Replace Obi…

Blinking, Zen replayed Mitsuhide's words again in his head and almost laughed out loud when he caught on to the double entendre.

Definitely not ignorant at all.