III.

Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines, Crown Prince of the Realm, prospective Ruler of Castle Wilant and yada yada yada, was in a good mood.

The morning briefing he had been forced to attend by Lord Haruka first thing the day had been less boring than expected, and he had even managed to suggest some constructive changes the Lords had not immediately and outright rejected. He'd then talked to the stable master – now that Shirayuki could ride, it would only be appropriate for her to have her own horse. (Mitsuhide's black stallion had tried to bite him, the blasted beast, he'd never warmed up to the animal that was so calm and attentive when Mitsuhide was close, but he'd managed to save his hand, so he had that going for him.) Obi had dropped in sometime in between, obnoxious and entertaining as usual, and had brought Zen a dinner invitation from Shirayuki.

"Go see her yourself the next time. I'm not your messenger, Your Highness," the shinobi groused, and Zen grinned.

"In fact, that's exactly what you are, in case you forgot." He pointed at his sigil on the identification tag Obi was wearing around his neck. "It's written on there, remember? And how should I know when Shirayuki wants to see me if nobody tells me?"

Kiki, who had been a silent shadow at his side all day – it was so good to have her back, both her and Mitsuhide – snorted quietly, and Obi pressed a hand to his heart.

"You are beautiful today, Lady Kiki, like always, and your coldness only makes you prettier. How does Mitsuhide cope with that?"

And Zen – Zen laughed, and felt so relieved.

It had been so long.

So long that they had been together – really together, all of them, Shirayuki and Zen and Mitsuhide and Kiki and Obi. All five of them, four of the six people Zen loved most in the world, people he would gladly give his life for.

And the day was beautiful, sunny and warm, and the Lords were off his back for the next two weeks, and there was only little work that needed to be done due to the administrative summer break. He'd do some reading in the afternoon – break or not, some things needed to be done, and he had to write to his mother – and would spend some time with Shirayuki. And Mitsuhide would have some things to say about Zen's performance in Celeg, he was absolutely sure, so there would be some sparring training in his immediate future, as well. But hey, they had survived Touka Bergatt's grasp for power, Mitsuhide had been cleared of all charges, Obi and Kiki were fine and Shirayuki was back in Wistalia, even if she would have to go back to Lyrias presently.

The world was in perfect order again, the birds sang prettily and the summer sun rose high, and Prince Zen of Clarines was in a good mood.

That was, he was having a good day until his Royal Brother, King Izana, First of his name, Ruler of Clarines and all the Western Plains, Protector and Servant and yada yada all over again, "asked" him to come see him.


"What is it that you want to discuss with me?"

Izana had cut his hair again. It hung down past his ears and onto his shoulders in a golden curtain; it made him look both softer and harder. Zen didn't know whether Queen Haki had something to do with the way her husband styled his hair, but he still wondered.

Izana wasn't the type of man who would let a woman decide on anything in his life. Haki didn't seem like the type of woman who would let anything slide. Zen suspected a long, complex and very intriguing background story.

"You're so impatient, Zen. No greeting for your brother and King?"

Zen swept into the ceremonial greeting, his knee touching the ground and his head lowering to his knees, and looked up from the ground. "I salute you, Your Majesty."

Izana – laughed. Or, at least, grinned, and Zen felt a smile tug at his lips, as well. "One day, your insolence will come back to bite you, brother. Rise."

"I am a model of politeness. Just ask Kiki."

The king snorted. "As if she'd be any less loyal to you than Mitsuhide."

Behind Zen, Kiki stood at attention, stiff and formal. He nodded at her and waved a dismissal, and she left the room soundlessly.

Yes, they were more than loyal, both Kiki and Mitsuhide. Zen knew that, from the bottom of his heart. He also knew whom he had to thank for having Mitsuhide, in the first place. And maybe Izana understood – they were brothers, after all – because he just smiled, and Zen felt like he was six years old and crying in his elder brother's room because he couldn't lift a sword long enough to practice. He cleared his throat.

"I don't expect you requested my presence because you wanted to talk about my aide's loyalty?"


"Man!"

Zen was already loosening his collar not even ten meters away from the grand double door to the throne room. He loved his brother, he really did – he respected and admired him, and he'd pledge his loyalty to him again every hour of every day. But Izana had a way of getting under his skin that he wasn't sure of whether it was intentional or not. Either way, it worked every. Single. Time.

At least he'd stopped using Shirayuki as bait…

"He's really perfected that carrot and stick game, hasn't he."

Mitsuhide, who apparently, sometime during Zen's audience with his brother, had switched with Kiki, smiled good-naturedly. Zen shot him a disgruntled glare.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." His aide said it with an undertone that implied everything, and Zen felt the childish urge to elbow his oldest friend in the ribs. The elder man saw, or maybe they just had been around each other long enough to read each other pretty well, because he gave Zen the look and continued. "Kiki predicted this."

"She did?" Zen said, and then his grin turned into a frown as he saw the smile slipping off Mitsuhide's face slowly.

He nodded, almost hastily, as if to conceal his own slip.

"He's been grooming you for a position like that since his coronation."

Zen's glance dove into the distance, away from the palace corridor, back to a perfect day. The weight of the Royal Crown in his hands, the ceremonial words… Izana standing there, every inch the ruler. It had been…

"Anyway, on the more pressing matter of your anniversary today…"

"My… what?" Zen stopped, dead, jolted back into the present with a jarring drop. The numbers in his head started shuffling at breathtaking speed. "Anniversary!? Oh, crap –"

"Anniversary. Yours. And Shirayuki's."

"Oh, crap, crap, Obi gave me the invitation –"

Mitsuhide cleared his throat. "Shirayuki is waiting in your shared wing. She made dinner, and you sent her flowers."

"Flowers?" Zen glared at Mitsuhide. "She sees flowers every day!"

"And she still loves it when you give them to her," Mitsuhide said, calmly and with his Reasonable Voice. "Besides, you have something else to give her, anyway."

The Prince shot his Sword a look of wounded betrayal. "You know, I expected this from Obi, but not from you…"

"What?" Mitsuhide gave him a friendly smile. "You didn't say you wanted to be reminded."

"Yes, but – five years!"

And this time, Zen looked at Mitsuhide. Anyone who didn't know him well would have missed the twist to his lips that spoke of years of gentle prodding, sometimes violent but effective shoving, a certain amount of force and an ocean of understanding, acceptance and gentleness this man had been for Zen. He knew his Sword long enough, now, to realize that something was brewing. He just couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, there was something missing here…

But for now, there was something else to do first.

They were going to have A Talk as soon as possible, Zen promised Mitsuhide, wordlessly.

"Zen!"

Shirayuki's hair glowed in the evening sun, and, as always, Zen's world came to a jarring halt at her side, paused for a heart-beat and then began turning again, revolving around her and her only.

Soon.

He barely noticed Mitsuhide closing the doors behind him quietly.


He had missed her terribly, those last two years.

All the days and nights that they had been apart – it had been a challenge, a fight every day not to jump onto his horse and to visit her in Lyrias. Even the few times they had seen each other in between – the Royal Gala, the short intermissions – hadn't been enough. Zen had missed her with every fiber of his being, and he hadn't even realized how much until he had seen her again after the Bergatt thing, standing in the library as if she'd never been gone.

Zen.

He could still hear her voice, calling out for him.

It was almost surreal to have her close enough to see her every day, much less close enough to touch her whenever he wanted to.

(Not that he did touch her whenever he wanted to. It was hard, but he'd learned discipline, at least. Mitsuhide would be ecstatic that some of his lectures had actually stuck.)

It felt like a dream: being able to sit at the same table, with Shirayuki, to watch her eat and smile and laugh. Listen to her telling him little things of her day – about Ryuu, who had stayed behind in Lyrias, about the letters and herbs and plants she had brought for the Head Apothecary, about the colors in Wistalia that were so much more lively than in Lyrias, while the snow had a million different colors in the City of Tents. Zen almost had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"What are you thinking about?" Shirayuki asked, and he told her, honestly, "About you, and how beautiful you are," and she blushed adorably and ducked her head.

Zen had wanted to wait.

He had wanted to talk to Mitsuhide and Kiki first, had wanted to take some time to prepare his words, and his mind. But Shirayuki was smiling at him, and he was relaxed and the food tasted great and she was so beautiful. It broke out of him, like water from a dam.

"I need to tell you something."

As usual, her first reaction was to smile and wait, patiently, and he loved her for it.

"His Majesty is sending me to Wilant."

Shirayuki's smile turned into a dismayed expression which she tried to hide again as quickly as possible. He loved her for that, too. Gods above, he was hopeless. "You mean, you have to leave again tomorrow?"

Zen blinked. "No, not tomorrow. Wait. I mean, I am supposed to take the responsibility over the Northern Territories, the position my mother has been holding for the past years."

He could see the understanding dawn in her eyes. "You mean, you'd be the governor? And you'd live at Castle Wilant?"

He nodded, and, enchanted, watched her face.

Shirayuki covered her mouth with both her hands. "The Head Apothecary is sending me to Wilant, to be the Apothecary in charge."

Zen grinned. "I know."

"You do?"

"Izana told me." Zen couldn't contain his happiness anymore. It propelled him off his chair and over to her side of the table, where he dropped to his knees next to her.

"Let's go to Castle Wilant, Shirayuki. Let's live there, okay?"

"You mean, we'd be together again?" There were tears in her eyes, and he reached up to cup her cheek and wipe them away.

"Yes."

And in true Shirayuki fashion, she dropped from her chair and wrapped her arms around him, laughing and weeping at the same time.


When her door closed behind her, Zen stood in front of it for a few seconds and just breathed. How could it be that he was so happy, he wondered, how could that much happiness be granted to a person?

What had he done to deserve her?

She still loved him, even after all those years. She wanted to go to Wilant with him. She wanted to live with him. It was… it was humbling, to be the recipient of her love and devotion. It was breathtaking. It was everything.

"Please don't tell me you're going to start serenading below her window," a dry voice said from behind him. "Cause you sure look like you want to."

When Zen turned around, Mitsuhide was there, leaning against the wall. He was a dark shadow against the white stone, familiar and unmistakable.

"How long have you been there?" Zen asked back, not deigning the comment with an answer.

"Long enough." A heavy arm draped around his shoulders and pressed down, and Zen stumbled. "Congratulations, Zen. I'm happy for the two of you."

"Get off me!"

Mitsuhide pulled him close for a second, then let him go with a laugh.

"You should go to bed. It's late."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Kiki has the morning shift, but I can be there."

They had reached Zen's room, and Mitsuhide turned to leave while Zen opened the door and set a foot inside. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Good night."

"Night," Zen said and closed the doors.


Zen sat up in the middle of the night, propelled out a dream he couldn't remember.

Mitsuhide's laugh had been strained.

Not faked. Not like he wasn't happy for them. Just... sad.

"You have to talk to them," Shirayuki had said, just hours before.

"They're part of your circle. If you're going to Wilant, they have to know. Didn't Kiki only have a certain amount of time left? I guess she'll be returning to her family's estate. What about Mitsuhide?"

Somehow, all of this had passed his mind completely.


The next day came with an equally beautiful morning.

Shirayuki crossed his path in the hallway, bright and beautiful, and Zen almost – almost – forgot the worry creeping up his spine and twining around his heart like poisonous ivy. She made him smile – she always did, didn't she? – and he invited her along, and she agreed.

Next, he let Mitsuhide beat him in their morning training – both verbally and physically.

Kiki, Obi and Shirayuki watched from the side of the training hall as Mitsuhide put Zen through a barrage of sparring and corrections, plus all the hits and bruises he received because he was too slow and Mitsuhide was too good. As he ducked under his aide's flashing sword, desperately trying to find an opening to go from being in the defensive to a more offensive style, he wondered: how had he not been able to see this the day before?

How had he not thought of this? Because it was so obvious.

Kiki seemed to know what he was thinking, because she was looking at him with an intensity that would have made him shiver in fear had he not known her for such a long time already.

"It's fine, Mitsuhide. I'm alright."

Mitsuhide's arms were too tense, and his eyes too desperate; and Zen pretended not to see it and suggested breakfast for all of them.

"What is going on here?" Obi asked after Shirayuki had taken her leave to meet with the Head Apothecary. Mitsuhide and Kiki both did not answer Zen's gaze.

"Nothing that concerns you," Zen said, dismissive. "By the way, Obi, would you mind…?"

Obi didn't mind running an errand.

"Mitsuhide, your shift begins in the afternoon, right?"

Mitsuhide got up stiffly. "I'll see you then."

He himself, Zen noticed, wasn't the only person that was watching Mitsuhide walk away.


"Kiki," Zen said after they finally were alone in his office, and made no attempt to begin with the few folders – courtesy to Lord Haruka – that someone had put on his desk. Some summer break this was turning out to be. "This time I'll ask you for a report."

She looked unfazed, as if she had expected this. (She probably had.)

"My father and I have discussed in length about how the transition of power from him to me should take place, and we agreed that it would be best if you could issue a statement, officially freeing me from my duty as your Second Sword. My father will relinquish most of the power of the head of the family to me, including the Seiran's rights to attend the Council's meeting and hold a vote, he himself will retain certain veto rights in regard to my decisions and will act as my official advisor. I am to return as soon as you leave for Wilant."

Listening to anyone else report on these circumstances with the kind of detached a voice she used would have made Zen angry. Kiki was talking about leaving – leaving him, leaving them – as if it was something she did easily, even after years of being together. With Kiki, though, he knew: it wasn't that she didn't feel anything. Even more: when she resorted to this kind of observational style she was so close to the subject that she couldn't help herself, the distance she so carefully put between herself and things and people she cared about probably had served her well in the past. However, because he knew her, Zen could hear the undertone of something in her voice that she couldn't completely conceal.

Quietly, he asked: "Are you alright with that, Kiki?"

She didn't turn her head away, but she refused to meet his eyes as she nodded. "Yes."

Zen tapped his fingers on the desk top, thinking. "What did Lord Seiran say on the topic of the Bergatt treason and your involvement?"

Her face closed down almost instantly. "My father is of the opinion that the first thing to do is to separate ourselves from the Second Prince, to protect both your and our interests."

"That's certainly a way."

This, too, was what Zen had been thinking of the past few days. It had been easier going over it without having Kiki and Mitsuhide close, but that had felt like a betrayal. It was, wasn't it? The only way to stop the same events from occurring again would be to separate himself completely from both Kiki and Mitsuhide. On the other hand, nobody could guarantee that there wouldn't be other puppets that could be used to get at Zen: Obi, for example, had been used before. And Shirayuki – Zen shivered. He didn't even want to think about what might happen if anyone tried to use Shirayuki against him.

"Is that why he is recalling you as soon as I depart for Wilant?"

"Yes." Kiki nodded. Then, her face cleared slightly. "But, I need you to know that I agree with him on the issue. I have already been staying with you longer than initially planned, and there is still a lot I have to learn before I can lead my family in a manner that will be fitting. His Majesty sending both you and Shirayuki to Wilant…" She smiled, minutely, and Zen couldn't help but smile back. "It's proof that you're now walking your own path, Zen. You don't need me anymore."

Zen leaned back, touched. "Kiki…"

She lifted her hand. "Wait. I need to tell you this."

He remained quiet, so she continued.

"When I came here for the first time I had taught myself to live all on my own, to only trust myself. I thought it was a weakness, accepting help from someone else. Needing others." Kiki spoke the words slowly, as if she needed to make sure of their taste on her tongue. "You showed me that relying on others is not a weakness, you and Mitsuhide. You have shown me trust and loyalty, and have given me things I would otherwise never have gotten to know. I'll be forever grateful for that."

When she looked at him, her grey eyes were smiling. "It's not only you who has grown."

It made him laugh. "Of course not. I'm glad you feel that way, Kiki. But do you really have to leave?"

She held his gaze unwaveringly. "Yes. It is time for you to go out there and prove to Izana that you're capable of everything he expects of you, and of a lot more he might not yet expect. And it's time for me to prove the same to my father. You will excel. I can only hope the same for myself."

She wasn't tall, never had been. Still, when she sat still and straight, Zen had the feeling Kiki took up much more space than she should have. It was in her face: the expressive eyes, the determined tilt of her lips. From the first moment Zen had met her, he'd known she was an intriguing person who would rather break than bend. And she had proven that. She'd always been strong, but it had been a fragile strength.

It wasn't, not anymore.

"I will miss you, Kiki."

"You won't have time for that. You'll have to get settled in Wilant. And besides." The smile lit up her eyes. "We'll see each other. I will have to mingle at evening galas and Council meetings, and so will you. No more hiding away for either one of us."

It made him laugh, again. "I will be looking forward to it. And, Kiki…"

"Yes?"

"What about your proposal? Did you inform Lord Seiran about your decision?"

What happened next scared him. Her face closed up within seconds, a flower in full bloom dying gracefully in front of his eyes. Her lifeless eyes didn't match the content of her words.

"He had strong objections, but in the end, he was appeased."

"He is a reasonable man. There aren't many people like – wait, why do I hear a but?"

When Kiki didn't answer, he sighed, dropping his head on the table.

"Let me guess. It's not your father who is the problem, but the other party?"

Her silence was answer enough.

"But why?! I don't understand. He obviously loves you, why doesn't he want to marry you?"

The same weariness that had been in Mitsuhide's steps now seemed mirrored in Kiki's tired shrug.

"That's it." Zen jumped up from his chair, ready to bolt out of the door. "I'm talking to him right now."

Kiki calling out his name made him stop. "Zen. Wait. I don't think you should be the one to talk to him about – about him and me."

He stopped, once again surprised at both the defeat in her shoulders and the intensity of the plea in her eyes. "Whyever not?"

She shrugged, again, and it was clear now that she was hiding something from him. "You're not telling me something."

"Does it matter?" She asked back. "He won't marry me. I can't force him to do it."

"But he loves you! You love him!"

She closed her eyes, for a second, her hands forming a fist and relaxing again. "Sometimes that's just not enough, I guess."

Hearing her pain so obvious in every word that she had not said, seeing it in the lines on her face and in the defeated slant of her shoulders, Zen vowed to find his useless First Sword, grab him and shake him until his reason had been restored again. In the name of everything that was holy, what was Mitsuhide thinking?

"Master!"

Obi dropped in through the window, as usual, making Zen start badly and Kiki just pull up one eye brow artfully. No trace of the things he had read on her face just seconds ago was mirrored there anymore.

"Obi, how many times did I tell you…"

"Oh, but this way I save the time I would spend by knocking and waiting for an answer!"

Zen massaged his temples, as usual unable to argue against his messenger's logic. He couldn't suppress a smile, either. "What is it, Obi?"

"The Captain of the Guard says he can see you now, Master."

It seemed like Mitsuhide would be able to live a little longer, then.


Shirayuki's first word when he saw her that afternoon was his name.

"Zen!" She lit up at his sight, her hair and her eyes and her smile so beautiful it made him swallow.

"Shirayuki."

And she blushed at her name. It was adorable.

When they had found a quiet corner to sit, she leaned towards him, her eyes smiling but her lips serious.

"I had an audience with your brother today."

Zen leaned back and sighed. "He didn't tell me he wanted to talk to you, too."

Shirayuki laughed. "He's not that bad, Zen." A second of hesitation, and then: "Though he still scares me a bit."

"What did he want?"

"He asked me the same question again."

"What you think you can do to stay at my side?" His throat felt dry, suddenly.

"Yes." She leaned towards him a little bit more and took his hand. "And I told him."

Zen couldn't help himself: he leaned towards her, too, until their foreheads touched, his heart in his throat. "So you know now?"

"Yes." She giggled softly. "I'm just an apothecary. But I have helped you a lot in the past, and I will do my best to do so in the future. I have studied the arts of healing and of herbs and plants. I can do good in a castle full of people. I might not be able to replace an actual surgeon, but I know people, now, and I will continue to learn. I can grow crops, or advise people on how to handle them. I can do many things, I can help. And I want stay by your side however long you want me to."

This could have been his cue. This could have been the moment – it certainly had all the elements he thought it should have, and Shirayuki was smiling so widely – but there were other things to do, first. Besides, a vital part was in his room, in the bottom drawer, hidden away under his old riding clothes –

"Do you know how glad I am that fate took me over the wall of that empty villa at the border of Tanbarun six years ago?" He asked her, instead, and received a brilliant smile.

"I love you, too."

As the heat flushed into his cheeks Zen found himself sputtering, unable to answer in any coherent manner. And Shirayuki, the little – she blushed, too. But she laughed.

He couldn't help but laugh with her, and then, he kissed her.


The castle was quiet, at night.

It always had been the silence that Zen had loved most, the dim light from the few lanterns lighting the hallways. The shadows – he'd never been afraid of the shadows, only ever of people – and the echoing steps of servants or soldiers hurrying past in the distance were a song in itself. If one knew the castle, one could spend the entire night out in the corridors and on the walkways without meeting one single other person. He knew, he had done it before.

But that was not the point, today.

"What are you doing?"

Zen could imagine Mitsuhide's mild surprise – after all, around this time, he usually went to bed – but he also knew that Mitsuhide was rarely surprised by his actions anymore. They'd known each other for more than ten years, now, so nothing Zen did really could faze his Sword.

"Sneaking up on you."

This, at least, caused the taller man to arch his eye brows. "You are sitting on a window sill. What kind of sneaking is that?"

Zen grinned, quickly, and dropped the smile again. Standing, he brushed some dust off his trousers and looked at Mitsuhide. "I need to talk to you."

Almost instantly, Mitsuhide's open face closed up. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? You must be tired."

"No."

"I have to be up early…"

The fact that Mitsuhide still objected was glaringly obvious proof at how much he did not want this conversation to take place.

"Don't make me give you an order. Come with me."

It was supposed to be a joke, to lighten the mood. It was the wrong thing to say. Blue eyes turned icy in a heartbeat, cold and hard.

"Lead the way, Your Highness."

Zen did, berating himself silently.

They ended up in the training hall, because that was closest and most familiar place to Zen. He'd spent so many hours in it – training, training, later sparring with Mitsuhide and Kiki and even with Izana, sometimes – that its high ceilings and open walls were comforting, despite the unfamiliar darkness and the shadows. He sat down on the window sill and Mitsuhide stood, against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Zen couldn't remember a time when his friend's face had been so closed before: usually, everything Mitsuhide thought and felt could be seen right there. It was as if the privacy screen so many people used – the masks, the fake smiles and unfazed expressions – had gone right past Mitsuhide. Or maybe he had regarded them and discarded them as useless? It would have been just like him. Now, however, there was nothing to be read in his face.

"Mitsuhide…"

His aide didn't answer, and Zen sighed. "Go ahead, yell at me."

That seemed to bring him out of his shell, at least a little. "Huh? Why? What have you done?"

Squinting, Zen looked up. "I'm a bad friend, am I not?"

"Rubbish!" Mitsuhide looked upset. "Who said that? He's wrong."

The open, sincere honesty made him smile. "I said that. I should have noticed this earlier, but Shirayuki had to tell me. And Kiki, I guess."

Had he not watched Mitsuhide closely from the corner of his eyes, he would have missed him flinching minutely at Kiki's name. Zen made a snap decision, hoping to God that it was the right one.

"Okay, let's be straightforward. You've been tense since you and Kiki came back from Evergreen Manor. I thought it was the last vestiges of what happened in Celeg, but I'm starting to suspect it's not. It's more. What's wrong, Mitsuhide? Is something bothering you?"

His aide stared for a split second and then opened his mouth to respond, and Zen felt all his suspicions crystallize.

"And don't try to lie to me, or to weasel out of this! I need to know what is going on."

Mitsuhide had never refused to tell him anything. Mitsuhide never had kept secrets from him. Zen wasn't stupid – he knew there were things his aide wasn't telling him, things about his past or his thoughts on certain Lords, or even things about Zen himself. But that had never mattered, because the things he had said had always been entirely, completely honest. And he had never refused to answer Zen's questions before. He had never closed himself off like this. It… it hurt.

Zen never before had ordered Mitsuhide anything he hadn't been willing to do out of his own volition.

"I…"

Zen never before had ordered Mitsuhide anything he hadn't been willing to do out of his own volition.

"WAIT!"

He exploded, angrier at himself than he could ever say. "No, wait, Mitsuhide, this is wrong, I am an idiot! I can't force you to tell me what's bothering you. Oh God, I almost did. I'm sorry, don't say anything!"

Mitsuhide stared. And then stared some more, and then, slowly, painfully slowly, a smile appeared on his face. Tiny and almost completely overshadowed, but real. Awed, Zen leaned back, unsure of what to expect.

"Zen, you must be the worst Prince of all times. Stick to your orders, will you?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"You started it," Mitsuhide returned, almost cheerily enough to pass as there's nothing, really. But only just.

"Yeah, well. Stupidest idea of the century. I'm sorry." Zen stood, and turned towards the doors of the hall. Guilt was still churning in his stomach, mixing with red-hot anger at himself. "Please forget about this. I'll see you tomorrow."

Before he could leave, Mitsuhide's hand shot out and held his elbow.

"Zen."

"Yeah?"

He didn't expect it. He really didn't, he expected Mitsuhide to ask something in regard to his schedule tomorrow, to comment on something, to … whatever. He didn't expect Mitsuhide to look at him with eyes that were half terrified and half determined, and to hear him say the words he had been thinking for the past day.

"You are right. We need to talk."

Zen hadn't expected this, honestly not. But he just dropped back onto the window sill, felt the cool glass against his back. Mitsuhide still was standing, his fists tightly closed, but some of the horrible coldness in his face was gone.

"Okay."

And Mitsuhide, without turning around and looking at him, asked: "Will you take me to Castle Wilant with you?"

"Of co-"

To Zen, this question was a no-brainer, a rhetorical question. There was no need to answer, because of course Mitsuhide would come to Wilant with him. Whyever not? He was Zen's sword and aide, and, when it came to if, bodyguard and advisor. During all the time that he had asked himself what Izana was up to, and then, even after he had gotten to know, there had never been a question in his mind as to what Mitsuhide would do.

They had been together for the past – nine? Ten? – years.

For Zen, Mitsuhide was as much as fixture to his life than the sun was to the day and the moon to the night.

But maybe Mitsuhide wanted to be somewhere else?

Oh.

Oh, Heavens.

In all his time with his aide, Zen never had thought about whether Mitsuhide would stay with him forever.

The thought was – it was – it was unthinkable.

So Zen forced himself to think of it.

"Except… if you don't want to go." The words stuck to his throat like glue, not wanting to be spoken. Each word said out loud became real. "Except, if you want to stay here and – serve Izana – or go back to Celeg – or –"

It was there, suddenly.

"Stay with Kiki. Oh, Fates, Kiki is going back – she told me – Mitsuhide, did you tell her you wouldn't marry her because you felt you had to come to Wilant with me?!"

Mitsuhide looked as stricken as Zen felt. He didn't even blush, and that was enough. "She told you?"

Zen jumped up, unable to sit still. His hand, automatically, went to his sword hilt, and then he realized he had left his weapon in his bedroom. His hands went up into his hair, instead.

"You told her – that's – but of course, there are three days of riding between the Plains and Wilant, I couldn't possibly expect – why haven't I thought of this before?"

Yes, why hadn't he? It was stupid. It was naïve and immature, and, worst of all: selfish. He'd been so happy to have his aides back and Shirayuki and Obi, so glad they'd all be together, and he'd so naturally expected Mitsuhide to stay by his side, that he'd completely forgotten all the implications this change he was so looking forward to would mean for the other people in his life. He needed to – he had to – he couldn't do – but Shirayuki – why hadn't Izana told him – and Kiki and Mitsuhide –

"Zen."

Mitsuhide's voice was calm and grounding, his hand on Zen's shoulder anchoring him to the ground as it had so many times before.

"Calm down. It's going to be alright."

He was thinking himself into a frenzy, as usual. And, as usual, Mitsuhide stopped him. Zen couldn't help the burning in his eyes at the thought that one day, his best friend wouldn't be by his side anymore.

He took a deep breath.

"Don't come to Wilant with me. Go and marry Kiki."

Mitsuhide shrank. Literally. His shoulders curved in on himself, his head ducked down. "If you don't want me to come-"

"No! Heavens." Zen fumbled, then grabbed Mitsuhide by the shoulders and looked straight at him. "We need to make something clear, okay? I want you with me. Always. You've been there every day for the last ten years of my life, and I would gladly have you with me for the next fifty. I don't care what Lord Haruka says, the tradition of assigning a Sword to a Prince only until he is of age is crap. Does the danger go away after one turns 21? I never once thought of leaving you behind when going to Wilant." He swallowed. "But if you don't want to stay my aide, you could do something else in Wilant. I talked to the captain of the palace guard and he says I could bring my own captain to head the Wilant castle guard. Or, if you don't want to come at all…" Even the mere thought freakin' hurt. "I'm sure my brother would welcome you into his guard. You always wanted to serve Izana. And Wistalia and the Plains aren't so far apart, you could see Kiki often. You could actually marry her, you'd be stupid not to, you are perfect for each other –"

Mitsuhide's face was eerily empty.

"You would actually take me to Wilant as your Sword?" He asked. His voice was alien, too.

Zen nodded. "Yes, or-"

"You would let me protect you?"

"Of course-"

"They will use me. Against you. They've done it before."

"You won't let them. You didn't, this time. It wasn't your fault, Mitsuhide."

Zen would repeat this as often as it took to get him to believe it, too.

"I can't. Not if it compromises your safety."

"How often did you protect me from threats before? It by far weights up the one occasion that you couldn't. Don't be silly, Mitsuhide. Mistakes happen."

Mitsuhide turned away, sharply, and took a deep breath. And Zen felt it: he was giving up. Mitsuhide was giving up. Victory tasted sweet, mixed with bone-deep relief that had him feeling like he was floating. Mitsuhide would stay with him.

"But traditions-"

"Do I look like I care about traditions?"

It would have made Mitsuhide laugh, every other day. Today, it just made him sigh, and chuckle, weakly.

"Oh, Zen. You're really the worst prince of all times."

Somehow, that didn't feel like an accusation. And it completely left Zen's mind a second later, because Mitsuhide turned back again and drew his blade. It flashed in the moonlight, silver and sharp. It wasn't a nobleman's weapon – simple, bland steel – but to Zen, it was more.

Mitsuhide knelt.