To anyone just stumbling upon this story, you really ought to check out Sabraeal's stories. If you're suddenly craving some amazing ZenHal fics, go check out her stories for them; they are well worth your time! If you're desiring some of the best ObiYuki fics out there, she's also got you covered. And some rare pair fics to delight you and leave you eager for more. And if you're looking for HakIzana fics, she's an amazing writer for them. (Oh, my gosh! She makes me want to devour the manga in spades, just so I can less guiltily binge read all of her HakIzana work, and that's after reading one story of hers where HakIzana is one of the three pairings in it. And I'm eager to discover as many of her HakIzana stories as possible, and it's a strength of will to wait on reading them.)
To Sabraeal, hi! Oh, my gosh! You've been on my mental list of writers to write for for a very long time, and for extremely good reason too! Last month, about a week before ObiYuki Madness, it hit me that you were next, and I got excited! I knew you were the person I'd honor in April, and I was ready to go. I actually really wanted to start writing for you in March, and holding off was a pain. Then life got crazy, and the patience became at least a little bit easier. And I remembered all of the reasons why I absolutely adore your writing when I began to bingeread it for the first time in a few months this past week. (And you would not believe just how nervous I got, as if you'd never read my writing before, but I knew it had to be perfect. I'd been sneakily going around asking people all sorts of questions lately, like what kinds of fic you'd love to be gifted to one person, another person I ask for ZenHal headcanons and ideas, and of course, I've been reading ZenHal lately like it's my latest addiction. And I asked someone to betaread this for me, and with her help and her amazing attention to detail, I was able to fix this up way better than what it started out as.) And this story went through so many stages, and is my first complete ZenHal oneshot. I actually started two practice fics prior to starting this fic to figure out how to write ZenHal, and then I spent a lot of time writing, rewriting parts of this fic, editing, and looking back over this fic, because you deserve the best fic possible, and I knew right away, I was woefully unprepared to write you something amazing; I hope this fic is even half as wonderful as your ZenHal fics that I've read prior to sitting down and attempting to write for this lovely rare pair of yours. And, you really did inspire me here. Some of the way that you write Kihal influenced the way I wrote her here, and because I'm inspired in a roundabout fashion, reading one of my favorite ObiYuki oneshots of yours, actually kickstarted this fic, as suddenly at least two points in your fic hit me in a new way all of a sudden, and I was inspired to write this. I hope this fic brings a smile to your face, and that you know just how absolutely incredible you are and how you touch and inspire this fandom in a lot of ways. Thank you, Jen.
It's like clockwork, it's routine, to come here again, to see Zen again. It's normal to marvel at the blue of his eyes that reflect Popo's blue right back at her; it's normal to sometimes wonder if butterflies are really birds in her stomach when she's around him. It's easy enough to ignore. When something becomes normal, almost no thought is required to let it act the way it always does.
It becomes natural, just something that lives and breathes in the moments between them, something unspoken. Kihal knows the feeling, the Zen feeling, that she's well used to ignoring, the Zen feeling that is easy enough to work around.
But right now, what's normal doesn't feel normal, as Zen redirects Kihal back to the paperwork at hand, as she wonders if his fingers would be as soft and as smooth as they look, if she were to intertwine her fingers through them. Or, if they are maybe a little rough and worn from the sword that she's seen him carry around, but never seen him use. It must be more than a prop around his waist, has to be.
And sometimes she wonders just what love would look like in his eyes, if it would shine back at her so prettily, if it would catch something between them. If it would speak of the inner workings of her heart, words that she's long since tucked beneath her skin and ignored. Would his voice speak up then? Be whisper soft against her ear or maybe it would be filled so full with longing, that both of their knees nearly give out at the pressure?
"Kihal?" His voice pulls her back to reality by the mere thread of it, barely tossing her back down to earth.
"Yes?" Kihal's breathless, and she hates it, hates how easy it is to become that way around Zen, when around anyone else this would not be happening, hates how one prince can make her knees crumble, when royalty or nobility isn't supposed to cause this kind of reaction in her.
"Do you think that would be a good idea?" Zen could be talking about any number of things, but what he really is talking about are the birds, not the way her heart stutters under his full attention.
"What, would?" Kihal tries to bring the steely weight of her words back into focus; she's here to work, not here to be cooed over or melted, or baby talked, because she couldn't quite focus even a moment ago.
"To bring in more of your people and expand the bird messengers even further than for communication to the soldiers, and if it would be feasible to have more people trained here to work with the birds?" Zen's patient with her, and sometimes Kihal wonders if in his shoes, she'd be patient with herself.
"Oh," She takes a deep breath, a little reminder to keep breathing, "Yeah, sure. It would work out great; who should we train?"
"We can go through and assign some people?" Zen looks confused, a little unsure of who, all, to bring in and get trained.
"We could." Kihal murmurs, and it's then that she catches the tiniest glimpse of a look that Zen doesn't mean to share with her. It's quiet and unspoken, like the trimmings of her heart, but she isn't sure whether it's love or rather the entirety of her affection for him.
"Should I be trained?" It's an after thought more than an intended question, a brief hint of longing to his voice, and Kihal can't help her smile as it slips along her lips. Zen wants to be taught by her, learn from her and Popo how to work more effectively with the birds as messengers.
A pretty pink flush spreads across her cheeks, before she gave it permission to, and as she looks up at Zen's sudden, slightly contemplative look, she wonders if he'd react to her spontaneity half as well.
"I could teach you." She says, and finally there's a hint of something else in the air that is met with a look by Zen that speaks wonders, and her sudden confidence comes seemingly from nowhere, "I could kiss you?" Sounds almost the same as the phrase from just a moment ago.
Zen's blue eyes go so wide in an instant, that they no longer look like Popo's feathers, they look as wide and as blue as the sky on Yuris Island, so wide and so blue, that the longing to fly within them seems to expand in her chest.
"Or," Kihal's still searching for words to take back the last thing she'd told Zen, when he steps closer, but he doesn't kiss her then. His blue eyes are locked on hers, and she can almost see the thought play back in them, almost imagine just what temptation floats, unbidden, through his mind.
"What if I said, yes?" Zen's voice is raspy, as if it's hard for him to speak, as if his mouth is dry at just the possibility of it.
"Then," Kihal pauses, as her mind suddenly snaps back into focus, trying to pull herself back into her usual confidence, "I would kiss you."
And so, she does, she stands on two once shaky legs and leans up. Zen isn't unbelievably tall, this isn't an impossible challenge, but still it feels almost like dreaming. It's as surreal and slow as if her mind isn't fluttering with so much endorphins that she can't resist the impulse.
And when her lips brush across Zen's, it's as natural as each breath that floats through her lungs, it's easy. There isn't a spark at first, as if it's the early stages of a raging inferno, the moments where any second can be filled with quiet stillness.
His lips against hers do bring a spark, and her body feels weightless, as if she is a marionette just falling apart at the seams. Kihal feels like she's flying, each brush of his lips against hers is so warm, so soft, so gentle. He's careful with the kiss, careful with her. Enough so, that she almost wants to push the gentleness of it against the adrenaline of going high, high, high up in the air, wants to make them fly more than float.
But this kiss is only the first one, and Kihal doesn't believe that she should rush it, even so. Not as each and every gentle moment of his lips against hers, sparks in her heart, not as every soft moment sparks such a quiet but still there and still persistent desire to press much closer, and Kihal wonders whether this is just desire finally reached into or the beginning stages of love. Or whether this break in routine is really the beginning of a newer, better version, one that listens to the quiet murmurs in both of their hearts.