You guys...hoo boy. Okay, let's do this.
Hello! It's been a long time, and I cincerely apologize for that. This chapter was such a frickin struggle! I have been writing it and rewriting it for MONTHS. I'm SO TIRED. I just want to get this out here already, so we can move on back to the current story I'm trying to tell - not the story that's happening over there with my OCs forever ago. It's a little all over the place, there's crazy tonal shifts, and it is kinda horrible, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, and it gives you some answers about the war haunting our current characters.
In happy news, I've stared the process of transferring this story to Archieve of Our Own! Don't worry, you'll still get updates on this page, but you will also have the choice to enjoy it on Ao3's brilliant layout as well. Here's the link: /works/29010909/chapters/71203002
Even though it's been a crazy long wait, I appreciate your patience and kind words. I hope it'll be a shorter time til I blab again, but until then, remember review.
For all her jabs, teases, and mockeries – Amilaia was splendidly easy to frighten. As she stood on the prow of the boat, Julius crept towards her on his toes. He had long since memorized the creaks of the wood and the spots where the boat liked to be slippery.
And even with all of those obstacles, he honestly didn't need to be so careful. Amilaia had her dark arms out to the side, her white dress floating around her perfectly sculpted curves and soft edges. Her webbed fingers struggled to remain still. Her hair – beautiful, thick ropes intertwined with gold weaved through the wind.
Julius couldn't bite back the grin on his face as he came up directly behind her, just out of reach of her dress, ducking below her hair.
Amilaia took a deep breath.
"Gotcha!" In one fell movement, he jumped into the spot Amilaia was standing before he scooped her into his arms.
She shrieked at the top of her lungs – loud enough all the deckhands winced, and as it was practically in his ear – Julius heard nothing else for a good minute.
Which he was grateful for immensely, because she ranted and undoubtedly cursed him out for the whole time. Dark, thick lips moving rapidly, brown eyes wide with anger. Her face was so expressive. Her tiny claws scratched at his back as she slapped him in retaliation.
After just stupidly grinning at her while his ears shook themselves off for a while, she huffed. She crossed her arms, waiting for his hearing to return.
First came the waves – the way they crashed as the boat crushed through them. Then came the whistles of the sails in the wind. Finally, the voices, and with the last of the ringing, he closed his mouth and waited.
"I hate you." She said, her voice – like all Atlanteans, silky and echoing.
"I love you." He countered. "Bye!" With a laugh, he tossed her out of his arms and off the boat.
She rolled her eyes visibly as she fell the few stories to her home. Last second, she turned and dove through the waves.
He grinned, as not a moment later – she jumped out of the water. Her full body crashed up and through the thin Surface separating their worlds, arching much like a dolphin. Her webbed feet they had based their flippers off of glittered in the sunlight.
Behind him, Julius heard a whispered; "…freak."
He stiffened. How he had managed to pick up any of the deck hands talk was surprising – through the wind and the roar of the waves. But of course, that's why Amilaia was here, wasn't it? To void those heinous rumors and slight microaggressions.
He turned and leveled his best kingly stare at the closest deckhand. Alarmingly, he met the King's gaze and held it, daring him to challenge him.
Julius resisted the childish urge to spit, and instead did something even more foolish.
Without removing his glare, he jumped off the edge of the ship and let himself fall back into the unsteady arms of the ocean.
He let the stinging salt wash away his anger. The rocking of the waves hold him in its comforting arms.
Until the need for air burned in his lungs, and he pushed up towards the surface.
Amilaia jumped over him as he surfaced, taking a large gasp. She swam through the water easily, clearly more adapted than him. She circled him as he paddled to keep up with the boat, though it was already dangerously drifting. "You're the most ridiculous king, you know that?" She reprimanded with a smile.
He grinned. "Thank you very much. Wanna help a King catch up with his ship?"
Mia rolled her eyes, beautifully glassy and large. She wrapped her arms around his waist, humming as she lifted her chin towards his face, lips inches from touching. Around them, the salty waves left popping bubbles over their cheeks and tugged on their clothes. "Or I could just keep you down here forever." She murmured, voice almost entirely swallowed by the ocean.
"I wouldn't be so opposed to that, I think." He murmured back, reaching his hands to cup her cheeks. He didn't need to paddle with her amazing fins holding both of them to the air. He held her face, studying the colors of her eyes and the way her smile glowed while in the cradle of the sea.
Then she grinned, sharp teeth glinting, and dove with him. He bit back his laugh as the air was blocked from him, but she kept him just below the waves as she powered after the ship.
A few hours later came the meeting he had been dreading. All the council members poured in to the Court house, faces dark with scowls and hate. Julius sat in the ridiculous high seat, watching his colleagues, mentors, tutors, and friends pour into their stands. The air was as thick as the sea, something sharp making it almost impossible to get a clean breath. And he had only been sitting for a mere few minutes.
He resisted the urge to uncross his dangling legs. The high chair may as well been a baby seat. Yes, it was inlaid with gold and bolstered with jewels. Yes, the chair was held up by the prior royals and judges, their faces immortalized in stone. Yes, it was a family heirloom that caught the light when the sun poured through the stained glass windows. And yes, the back of the chair extended up and out in a way meant to resemble the sunshine blooming and creating flowers. But it meant nothing, when Julius had to be lifted into the chair like a toddler. When Julius's legs dangled with nothing in front of him to stop him from swinging his feet like said toddler.
Julius was thinking about this as next, the commoners filled into the court. Those who had been elected to speak for the populace, those who were scribes here to witness the historic decisions. Those who were red in the face with putrid, sour, despising anger. They sat below the council, on the hard white marble floors. It took all twenty nine years of his training to keep the King's face from twitching in disapproval. They should at least have cushions – surely he could spare enough from just his own ridiculously lavish bedroom.
Then, at last his guards began the thrumming of their weapons on the ground below his high seat. The council hummed, all of the residents looking up to the glass roof. There, the moon sat in angular shades of blue, black, silver, and yellow. The effect was somehow not lost while the sun shone through the moon, and the hum slowly spread.
The song would end with just a simple huff from the King. But Julius closed his eyes, letting his heart respond to the call of his people.
Finally, Julius called for quiet with a definitive slam of his staff against the chair. He glanced around the room, bracing for the worst trial of his life. "Today," he let the echoes of his voice hold for a moment before continuing. "we will decide whether or not to lay siege upon the Kingdom of Atlantis."
It was a brutal seven hours. Seven hours of shouts, of tears, of claims, of senators falling asleep. The worst was the many claiming to the murder of his own nephew – the undisputed evidence of the Atlantean's Royal Guard drowning a human of high standing.
And at the end of it all?
The entire room turned to look at the King. All eyes of all colors, notably none the beautiful blue he wanted to see most at that moment. He closed his own, taking a deep breath. There was no arguing it. Yes, he could use the Crown's Right – a marital law order that overrode the rest of his kingdom. It would forgo the council's decisions, the representative house and the citizen's vote himself.
He could feel the air grow tighter as breaths stopped – like everyone in the kingdom knew he was considering the Right. And what a sight that would be. He had done nothing of note in his reign. He had taken the crown only due to the refusal of his eldest sister. He hadn't made any progress forward or backwards in his kingdom. He was best known for once being found passionately kissing Ami in some bushes at a ball once. Would a war….a war against his love's people, against some of his best friends, really end it?
He glanced around the room. Everyone shifted as his eyes roamed over them. He did not want to go to war. He doubted they wanted to either. Something amiss was afoot here. Something he couldn't name. Some power that didn't make sense. Some…something.
He had loved his nephew deeply. To hear of his passing tinted the gold memories of him tossing the young child into the air only to catch him again, of draping his crown on top of his tiny head to the tinkling sound of his sister's laughter – to a dark, gray dread. Still thinking of it choked him up. His nephew, little Zen, he would have been a much better king than Julius ever was.
Julius let out a great sigh. Once again, the Right teased his temple just as Ami's lips would often do when she was searching for his pulse. He had to use it.
He opened his mouth to speak, when a great rumbling shook his seat.
For a terrifying moment, Julius thought he was being overthrown. He gripped the handles and looked down at the statues engraved in the stone. As one, all of them turned their heads and glared at him – stone breaking and cracking at the impossible action. One – the smallest child, opened his mouth. Soft green light whispered through the cracks of lips that didn't exist. "you choose wrong." It hissed – a child's voice.
"Your Majesty?" Another voice intercepted.
Julius lifted his gaze with a snap. One of his Senators was staring at him.
He looked down again.
The statues were just as they were prior to speaking.
He cleared his throat. "In the event of the majority agreeing," he intoned, eyes still down. "we will wage war on Atlantis. I ask my counselors to meet me after we adjourn to plan our first battle."
Ami was no where to be found on land. Finally, he decided his best course of action was to simply take a sailboat out onto the waters and find her.
His guards went with him up until the dock, where he left them against their wishes. He sailed on the gentle night breeze out into deeper water, praying that she would feel him as he felt her. Praying she would forgive him.
It took hours, and he dared not sail farther away from the land. He was very aware the Atlanteans would not be pleased with him. He was alone on a small boat with no weapons or protection from anything that lay before the impossible dark of the fathoms.
Something stirred the water, and he whirled.
A good few boat lengths from him, two blue eyes glowed unnaturally.
"Ami." He breathed.
The skin around her eyes did not move. She looked less than human – all fish, all creature of the night - all danger. A bubble popped in front of her, and she began to slither towards the boat.
He scooted back to make room as she reached a webbed hand up to grasp the edge of the boat. She yanked herself up, but made no move to actually enter the boat. Water drizzled onto his boat from her fingertips. She locked him with a dead glare.
"Ami….I-I tried."
She hissed, pointed teeth glistening. "No, you did not."
"I….I did." He argued softly.
"Stop lying to me."
He let the words fail. He wanted to reach out, touch her hand, run a finger through the webbing. But he knew he wasn't going to be welcome. "I can still try to fix this. This…this doesn't have to change anything between us."
She laughed – not the harmonic chuckle that made his heart sing. This was a beaten, broken vocal noise he had given her. "You are nothing but an old fool. I thought you were stronger than this."
His fingers twitched. "Ami, please. I just want you. I just…" He clasped his hands together for her. "Ami, let's run away. Drag me away into the furthest ends of the world – let's just…be together."
She snarled – actually snarled. She spat on the floor of his boat. "You dare." Her eyes glowed true blue, completely covering any of the human parts of her. No pupils, no whites, not even a vein. Just a blue glow. "You think I will abandon my people after you have doomed them? You think I will leave with you, who has caused them to suffer such fates?"
He faltered. "I love you too much Ami, I just love you too much."
"I loved you. This betrayal cannot be forgiven." She squeezed the wooden boards of the boat until it groaned. "Never speak my name again. Never come to find me. Never, never expect me to defend you from what is to come. You made your choice, King. Now, you live with it."
With that, she threw herself back to the sea, disappearing with a large splash.
They were just in the middle of the story. Zen's voice ached but he felt the words pull free of his lips without consent. He could barely spare a glance to Shirayuki, who gripped a pillow tight and listened with both a scowl and a surprised expression.
The fire was crackling in his desk room, where they'd moved when the sun went completely down and the lighting was too soft for his eyes. Shirayuki had mastered the basic art of feeding it logs over their camping trips, and he was impressed with how she had managed to keep it going.
Until it had done this.
An act unlike Zen had ever seen, a large crumbling noise was the only hint to the sudden rush of debris that fell down his chimney. Shirayuki yelped and jumped away as the fire was violently pressed out.
Zen got to his feet as the embers flickered on top of his carpet. Swiftly, he grabbed his shoe and slapped the glowing dots out. In front of him, the dust had barely settled. It looked like bricks – broken bricks from his fireplace had fallen down. Ashes littered the carpet, and Shirayuki was staring at the mantle in horror.
"That was weird." She said.
"I agree." He hummed. He slapped the last ember then surveyed the mess. The fire was gone, with it a blast of cold. The heaviest, biggest parts of the brick and cinderblock were thankfully still in the fire's spot, but most of the ashes and dust had exploded onto the wood.
Shirayuki frowned. "Does that happen often?"
"No." He glanced at her. In time, they both looked to the memoir he had left open on the desk. He sighed and stood, brushing the dust off his knees. "Do you think that was some magic?"
"I didn't feel anything. If it was, that's scary." She followed him wordlessly to his desk.
As he fell back into his chair, she sat up on his desk, crossing her legs and staring at the ruined fire. "Are we safe reading this aloud?"
"I don't know how else we could read it." He forced his eyes down to the book as she turned to look at him. She wore her nightgown again, which had slid up slightly to reveal a little more thigh. That, and her bare shoulders already pricking with goosebumps was a little too alluring for him to admit fully to himself.
"Maybe we should stop. We might be attracting attention."
Zen frowned, gently letting the thick pages full of hand written cursive flick through under his thumb. "But it's getting to the good part. And we don't have time to do this another night."
She sighed and gently went to touch her back in the slow, slightly stiff way that meant she was in some pain. "At least let me sing a dispelling song. Just to clear the air, a little."
Zen was nodding, though internally he tried not to worry about what that might do to his heartrate.
Thankfully or not, Shirayuki didn't notice. She cleared her throat and took a few breaths. She opened her mouth and her angelic voice flowed through the cool air of his study. He leaned back in his chair and refused to look at her, crossing his arms and trying not to listen. The room gave her voice a beautiful echo he hadn't heard before. It was almost eerie, like a siren call was described to really be. He could feel something heavier stick through the air, or maybe it was just his urge to let himself get lost in the song.
He rubbed his eyes as she sang. Trying not to get lost in her voice was like trying to fight against a riptide.
He risked a glance towards her.
Head tilted up, she had her eyes closed and was letting the magic simply flow through her. Her lips barely pressed as they bent and curled around the words, her hair that she had freed for the night was an ocean in its own right.
Zen tore his gaze away, closing his eyes and putting his laced hands against the top of his lip.
Shirayuki held one last note that made the candlelight's flicker. She let out a sigh, and he finally looked up at her. Her green eyes were laced with golden lights. "Better?" She asked.
Zen took a deep breath and lowered his hands. It did feel warmer. "I think so."
"Good." She slid off the desk and moved back to the chair. "Can you restart the fire?"
The war was tragic. The Atlanteans attempted a small assassination of his best General, but she captured one of them and from him they gained how to find the island. No one asked the King, who had been there via invitation many times. No one even asked him anything. The best he got was from his General, who put her hand on his shoulder when speaking for him. He was a shadow – he was not there.
He sat in the corner as the Atlantean screamed in the library, babbling for the sweet release of death - silent. And he walked away as they sealed the doors with their last bit of magic, leaving the Atlantean to his death of dehydration and stealing his soul from the ocean where it belonged.
He stood on the ship, but refused to leave the Captain's cabin as the attack began.
The ship moaned and rocked, he could hear the desperate screams of his naval armies trying to drown out the Siren songs declaring them to end the war. He held his hands against the desk and cried. It was well into the depths of the night as the fighting and the screaming and the rocking began to end.
And it was then, and only then, that Captain Caraway slammed open the door to his quarters.
He looked up at his most loyal and best Captain. His shoulders heaved with each breath. His tunic had soaked through, the chest plate he wore bent and ripped through from easily claws – just barely protecting him. Blood was splattered over his face, a dark stain that at this point looked simply as if it was part of his skin tone. His eyes were murderous green. He had sheathed his sword, but the hilt hung loose from it – like it had been too bent up to sit properly.
"You." He growled.
The King blinked and he was on his feet, back to the wall, hands around his throat.
"You. You did this to us."
And the King simply blinked softly, waiting for his overdue death. Not even the lack of air could make him do more than spasm weakly – he was a shell of a man, just as he had been for the past six months of this war.
Caraway snarled and dropped him. "I hate you. I despise you. If I had it my way, we would throw you into those bloody seas and move away from the centuries of darkness you allowed."
The King bowed his head to the floor, accepting.
"But." Caraway took a heaving, deep breath. "That's too good for you. I see now the only way to have you really suffer is for you to go on." He kicked him, pushing him to his back so he could look the King in the eyes. "Mind, not as you are. You will go on as the King of this country that has lost its morality. You will meet other monarchs and defend our country's borders. You will pass legislature to make this country a livable place, though we may never be happy again."
Caraway burst into tears, and sank onto his knees next to the King. "I do not understand this witchery." He gasped. "I only understand that we can't stop living. Even after tonight, even as my men tell me they want to stay and raze it all."
The King moved his lips.
Caraway smacked him, hard. "Just…Just do something! For Amalia! For…for your people. For us. For hope."
The King curled up onto the ground and stayed there, shaking and sobbing. At some point, Caraway kicked his crown that had fallen in the scuffle into the wall. He shouted insults until they turned to pleads, but his Captain ultimately found himself silent, staring at the failure of a King who had just committed a genocide.
It was an overwhelming vote. Only thanks to Captain Caraway did it take so long to be taken to the Court Room's floor. There, the senators frothed at the mouth and screamed for the erasure of the "vile country's" influence and name.
The King sat in his chair, and just stared silently until the room had finally quieted on account of waiting for his verdict.
But he did nothing. No Crown's Right, no agreement, no sounds or signs of even life besides the rise and fall of his shoulders.
The room shook. Something dark and evil swirled under the whole room, and the lights flickered.
Again. Thought Julius. But he waited, something finally stirring in him at the screams of his people, and at the way the magic so clearly filled the air.
Rage.
Julius – only a little shakily, stood on top of the chair. He held his staff in front of him, studying the sharp edge of its tip before holding it out in front of himself.
The room rumbled warningly.
He jumped.
And instead of impaling himself on the royal scepter, the floor opened, and Julius was swallowed by earth.
For a moment, it was a little like swimming in dark water. Then the pressure of the mud set it, sticking uncomfortably to his limbs and neck. His cloak was still held up, nearly choking him. He flailed a little at first, feeling as it settled around him. The scepter was lost into the murk. He didn't dare open his mouth to gasp for air – the darkness was far too physical a reminder.
And then a cavern opened under him.
The pressure was off of him so quickly he screamed at the sudden loss, and then he was falling. It was quick drop, but the ground was harder than steel and he was sure he had just broken his nose. Julius groaned and rolled over, taking a breath finally.
"Well. I certainly see why Caraway is so frustrated." A voice said.
Julius paused in his breaths. He sat up, clock somehow still trailing uncomfortably behind him. He turned.
A man of sorts stood staring at him. The darkness of the cavern was fought back by the ember lights of some sort of precious jewel. The man had nothing to him. He looked beautiful and horrible, both human and not. The most important aspect of him was clearly his eyes – one a brilliant green, the other a brilliant blue. Not just different colored – different eyes. It wasn't even something similar to those with glass eyes. No, this man's eyes were unnaturally different. Both were glaring at Julius, but they did not blink.
"Who are you?" Julius asked.
Instead of answering, the man moved. His feet didn't leave the floor, he just moved. He knelt next to Julius, studying him. "Really, Julius? You'd kill yourself over this?"
Julius just stared.
The man hummed. He lifted his hand, and the royal scepter erupted out of the ground and perfectly into his hand. He stood, studying the object, then simply snapped it easier than a twig. He tossed the pieces to the floor. "If I can't scare you into obeying me, I will have to resort to forcing you."
He sat down again. "So – let's chat. What scares you? What will motivate you to rule once again?"
Julius just stared. He couldn't breathe even if he wanted to. The man's power was clearly like nothing he'd ever seen – it would easily crush him with just a moments thought. The pressure of just standing by him was enough to keep him totally still.
"Ah!" The man's two eyes lit with joy. "I've got it. By now, your mortal mind has clearly comprehended that I am quite all-powerful. So make no mistake Julius. You're refusal to react to even the most complicated of pressures will not ever hurt you. No, actually – I bless you with a long and healthy life, indeed."
At these words, Julius's heart rate suddenly picked up. His blood ran just a little faster in his veins, his muscle soreness faded, and he felt more alert than he had in months. He gasped, realizing that this was not just a statement – this was magic.
"And you will not befall any horrid physical harm in anyway until the day of your death, which is now years away instead of moments before." The man nodded to himself. "So, Your Majesty – here's my ploy. You live forever, but everyone around you dies. You're kingdom, your people – sink it all away. Give it back to the sea. Which!" He put out his hands. "I know you're into right now, but like, you're people definitely aren't. So! You're going to go back up there. Everyone's going to think a sinkhole just randomly opened and it was somehow the fault of the fish people now learning to stop holding their breath and just breathe, or whatever. You'll say you're okay. You'll agree to the censorships – or I will start with that beautiful little community garden outside the walls of the palace where those homeless people eat. Got it? If I still don't get results, then it will next be the town of Gillia. I know you like that place because you met your fish person there. Then it will be the home of your currently sleeping grandmother. Then her old husband's entire neighborhood. Do you get the message?"
Julius felt a cold wash over every bone of his body. "You're…you're a monster."
"No. I'm a God. And I expect my pawns to play their part. You're sitting on my board, after all."
Julius sputtered. "I can't just – be…be controlled by you for the rest of my life!"
"Not the rest of your life." The thing, he was clearly not a man, shook his head. "Just do this one thing, and prevent an entire population from dying by your hand…again."
The God stood. "Have a good, fun little life, Julius. I hope you get over your heartbreak, it's truly the dumbest thing humanity suffers over. Bye bye!"
The King of Clarines was thrust up so fast he choked on mud. This time, he flailed. He thrashed, thinking the God had lied and was just going to let him drown in earth. But no, his fingers touched air. Then another hand grabbed his, and he was hoisted from his prison to the sunlight again.
"Get him out of here!" Someone was shouting. Julius was thrown over the shoulder of someone – Caraway, most likely. As he was jostled in the run, he managed to look up at the now empty and almost caving Senate Room. The God sat in the sideways throne, waving with a pleasant smile while bricks and mortar fell around him. Under his dangling feet, the sinkhole was happily eating the building alive.
Outside, in the harsh sunlight, Julius enacted Crown's Right. He called for the complete censorship of Atlantis and this war. He glared at the citizens and councilors around him, daring for anyone to try and stop him now.
Caraway, who's eyes had finally released the wrinkles around them at his movement, hardened again. Julius closed his eyes as the Captain turned away from Julius, marching through the crowd and forever abandoning his Majesty.
The rest of his kingdom stayed, however. And they followed his ruling perfectly. They even reveled in it.
Caraway never walked on land again. He lived on the seas with a few sympathizers, who tried to find and help their lost neighbors – to that endeavor, Julius never found more about. He had long ago killed the butterfly of hope. Instead, he protected his people. He eventually married another human woman – Brietta Spillaer, a very nice maid who held the strength he lacked. She was a beautiful Jouster, and an excellent knight, while the thought of any sort of weapon on Julius's person could make him sick.
They had children, and through time and trials together, became something like a true family – though Brietta always knew she never owned Julius's heart. That was alright, however, as she had also given away hers to the Kingdom and the people. Their three sons and two daughters brought with them a wave of peace and prosperity. The only mention of Atlantis – a councilman who got too loose lipped with the influence of alcohol, bragging that the war was clearly perfect – look at how good they had it now, was sentenced to twenty years in the dungeons.
Fires burned away the last of the Atlanteans books. Stones holding their beginnings, the meetings of the two countries – shattered. Written over laws and texts and exiled mixed races went away with Caraway's ships. Atlantis was forgotten. Failed by Clarines, and doomed.
Julius never forgot, but he could never bring himself to face his grief. His children spoke of him sadly, and even Brietta could only hold him helplessly. He worked, he cared for his people, and he loved them greatly – but nothing brought him joy again.
By the time the sun came up, Shirayuki and Zen were wrapped back into the sheets of his bed. Both felt their chests heavy with the weight of what they had read – the story that had started a genocide and then a censorship unlike anything he had even heard of.
Zen's voice was all but gone, but he reached out and tapped the back of Shirayuki's palm. She was squeezing tight to a bundle of blanket in her fist – unconsciously or not. At his touch and gaze, she smiled and let her fingers drop the fabric. Instead, she turned her palm. Zen watched his fingertips gently scrape the inside of her palm, easily falling into one of her lines – and then she slid her fingers between his and clutched tightly.
"I don't blame you, Zen." She murmured. The sun was rising, and a warm light so touched with dark blue it almost looked orange spilled over the bed and over her hair. "I never will."
He hummed and frowned.
She smiled and squeezed. "I used to…I think. I think it was just a misguided hatred. We're born with it, bred with it." Her other hand reached up from under the sheets and rested over his cheek.
Zen sighed at the touch.
"But I don't feel that anymore. I see now…it wasn't something that could be helped. This was an orchestrated attempt from-rom actual deities. What could any of us have done? We're just mers, we're only human."
He reached up and grasped her wrist. "Something. We have a chance." He whispered.
She smiled. "I know you do."
"We do."
She smiled softly, and before anything worse could happen – her smile faded and she hissed in pain.
"How about that healing hymn?" He asked.
"No-"
"It won't be the Siren Song."
"Your voice is exhausted."
"I wasn't planning to talk much today anyways."
She frowned at him.
He smiled back.
She crossed her arms carefully and sighed. "You're just gonna argue yourself hoarse anyways, huh?"
He winked. He cleared his throat, and began the song.
This time, Shirayuki lifted herself off the mattress slightly. She held her hand against her hand, elbow locked against the pillow. Her hair hung sideways off her scalp until pooling in a colorless puddle under her bare shoulder. She watched him as he sung, and even though it was the worst idea – he kept his eyes on hers.
Half way through, the song changed, and she smacked her hand over his mouth. "What did I say?" She said into the silence.
Zen shivered, magic making his lips tingle. "RutIbidn't-" He was muffled under her cool palm.
She hummed sharply, lifting her chin as she cut him off - and he matched pitch instinctively. She hummed as she leaned over, sliding closer to him. He should have missed a beat as her weight settled against his hip, as the silken feel of her gown touched his ribs. Instead, he hummed the rest of the note with her, the magic leaking away as she slid her hand across his mouth and her head fell into the crevasse of his neck.
He huffed as she settled and the song faded. "Alright then?"
"Alright then." He felt more than heard the words.
They adjusted. Her elbow dipped and she held his shoulder. He grasped her elbow and turned his head, greedily resting his nose at her temple. His other hand wrapped around her back, and he stared through the gap in the curtains. As the sun rose, he thought they should be speaking. They were wizards at sharing a bed now – this was not how friends shared the bed, though. Shirayuki's breaths were a rise and fall that controlled his heartbeat, however. She was the reason he felt less worried about the weight of what he had just read.
She was also ridiculously warm and cozy, and his eyes fought only for a moment to see the colors in the sky before closing and staying down.
He woke to Shirayuki turned away from him, the sore on her back marked blue in the bright sunlight. He woke on his back to open his eyes and turn his head on instinct, and see the blonde hair of his brother staring back at him.
Zen was up, hilt in his hand, and tackling his brother bodily out of the room with barely a shift of the sheets.
Izana chuckled in that low, sickly sweet way of his. He let himself be pushed, though if he had a choice or not was truly unknown. His hands grasped Zen's elbows and finally they stopped far past the curtain. "Well, good morning, little brother." He chuckled.
Zen hissed at him, cheeks burning at having being caught lying in bed with Shirayuki all day.
Izana huffed. "Well, you wouldn't introduce us!"
Zen let him go and his brother moved around Zen's desk. He held up the old memoir. "Also it's our turn with the trauma of our country, thank you."
Zen rolled his eyes. His throat burned like hot sand had poured down it – and stayed there, as he tried to speak it constricted painfully and instead he just coughed.
Izana nodded. "I'll have Mitsuhide make you some of that herbal remedy tea. Meanwhile, I wanted you to know that I'm taking this to Mom's – and you have a visitor to meet with."
Zen gasped and quickly went to rush his hands through his hair, nearly smacking himself in the forehead with his sword's hilt.
"Oh, not now. I managed to move it to a dinner tonight. You can bring your mermaid as a plus one, I suppose."
Zen rubbed his throat and painfully scraped out a mangled sounding "who?"
"Some Lord or Lordess wanting to talk about throwing a ball in honor of your return. Which, you are doing – by the way. Our kingdom needs to know that you're okay and all that."
Zen blew out his breath, and put his sword down on the desk. He scrubbed at his face. His desk clock said it was just past noon. He turned and looked to his brother inquiringly.
Izana shrugged. "Nothing else, really. Just that she's cute, and I hope you're being safe. Also that Mitsuhide and Kiki can't play damage control forever – so I would get up and actually move around the castle some so that people don't think you got kidnapped again."
Zen rolled his eyes but nodded, crossing his arms.
Izana lifted his hands in acknowledgement of his unsaid message, and moved to leave the room. Just as he opened the door, he looked back. "We have three days to plan for the ball, and Mom will want to see you one more time before then."
He shut the door, and Zen groaned.