iii. Blue Hydrangea

Maybe it is the heat, the summer unbearably hot unlike anything you can remember.

The sun burning down on the castle grounds, drying up plants and humans alike. The guards rotate on a faster schedule to protect the soldiers from heat strokes. The horses are led outside in the early morning hours. The dogs in their kennels barely lift their snouts at you when you pass. Even the usually cool stones of the heavy castle walls warm up these days.

Maybe it is the work, finally getting to you. The endless stacks of parchments that need your attention, a decision, a signature. Responsibility. Maybe it is the people around you that rely on you, their trust – but also their expectations. They are making you feel itchy and restless, empty and too-full; like something is scratching at your ribcage from the inside, burrowing out of you without ever reaching its goal. You feel like imploding, except that that would be a relief and relief is hard to come by no matter what you try.

Maybe it is the fact that, for the first time since you can remember, not only your mother left Castle Wistalia completely but your royal brother, too. The Crown Prince had announced his desire to spend his summer in different climates and left weeks ago, for an inspection journey without a defined time frame. You are used to growing up without a father, and your mother left to take up residence and govern the Northern Realms years ago. But your brother had always been there in the past. Izana might not look like an ideal brother but he always had been a good brother to you, challenging you to rise to the occasion, to never give up and never back down. There have been days when you felt that the entire world, Mitsuhide and Kiki exempted, was against you. And then you remember that the court raised you, and your brother, and that the fact that you are so angry with him probably is due to the fact that you miss him, even if your last months of interaction have been strained. Your brother is your hero, your role model and something like a father. But there is only so many times you can remind yourself that you love him when he is better at anything he does, stronger, more intelligent, more diplomatic. Izana is First in everything that matters and many more things. You, on the other hand, will forever be the Second Prince.

The Castle never felt emptier to you.

Sometimes, you manage to forget. Sometimes, when you talk with the soldiers, or watch Kiki and Mitsuhide spar. And, nowadays, also when you train with Thalia. She is an amazing knight, her speed and technique are intriguing, and her smile still throws you off. It is probably because it reaches her eyes. There are so few people who smile honestly around you; she is one of them. It feels like she sees you – actually you, not the prince, not the second son to the king – and that is… Intoxicating.

She is also, very obviously, not into you.

Zen Skye Wistalia, Prince of Second Choices.

"Knight Rouen!"

Her eyes start shining when your Sword is near. It is something in her easy smile that changes when she lays eyes on him, something in the tilt of her shoulders that changes when he is there. As if something in her instinctively turns towards him, shifts towards him like you have never seen with anyone before. (Is this love?) They talk and laugh, carefree and easily. It has become a regular occurrence by now, these afternoons on the training grounds. Mitsuhide shows Thalia – and you – old and new techniques, instructs you, corrects your stances. Then, you spar with Thalia while Kiki and Mitsuhide watch from the sidelines. It feels like you are a means to an end. It feels like you are a cheap replacement. It feels like something – something thorny, spiky, something unbearable – is worming its way into your chest, and it collides with the things that try to explode from inside you, render you speechless and sleepless and desperate. But. Training with Thalia takes the edge off it a bit, for a while, and you cannot help yourself: you look at her, and look, and look, and the second she returns your gaze your eyes dart away. It is like she is the poison and the cure at the same time, and.

You hate it.

You do not think you want it to stop.

You do not know whether to laugh or to cry, and that shows in almost constant bad temper and mood swings. You hate it – you hate yourself for it – but you cannot help it. Thalia is pretty, she is clever, she is strong – she is everything you ever thought a woman was supposed to be, and many more things.

"Are you alright, Zen?"

Mitsuhide looks worried. He has been by your side for years now, and you know when he is worried and when he is simply playing dumb. His love for you shines from his eyes, sometimes, like he cannot contain it, like his oh-so-tall body is too small for all the things he feels. Sometimes you wonder why nobody else can see it, it is so obvious, is it not? Even Mitsuhide himself knows. At the same time, he looks at you with these guileless smiles and his heart in his eyes and his love, his worry and his loyalty for and to you all plain open to see. He can read you, is tuned to you in a way you sometimes wish your brother would be and then discard again, because, really, no it's better that way. If Mitsuhide knows you so well, though, why can he not see what is going on right in front of him? It is maddening, it is insanely aggravating and frustrating and so, so painful and you want to shout at him to not be so stupid and dense.

But he looks so worried.

And it is not his fault, after all, is it? It is your own. Stupid, stupid Mitsuhide. Stupid you. Stupid heart that has stupid crushes and wishes for stupid things you cannot ever have.

It is Prince Izana's absence, and it is so much more.

It is a boy growing up in a palace without his parents and only with a distant brother, learning the rules early, taking up the burden of responsibility far too soon. It is a boy living in a beautiful palace that is a cage, at the same time, a boy living a life anyone else might wish for but that he did not choose. It is the absence of friends his age, coupled with the sense of duty he carries like a shield and like a burden, has carried since the day you first encountered him after he had jumped down from a balcony and had hidden his disdain at someone being made his nanny behind a wide, innocent smile, but not before you saw it. It is the work, and the open sky above all of you, and the promise of summer stretching on and on and then dying, turning to fall, without anything ever changing.

It is the fact that Zen, like every human being, wishes for things he cannot have and that you cannot give him, and that pains you even more than the simple fact that you can see history repeating itself, over and over again.

At one point during this summer, this endless, glaring summer that is full of hours of hard work and brilliant, stolen but oh-so-short moments of peace, Zen's mood tips from restless and unhappy to depressed.

You notice, and you worry.

Since Prince Izana is not there, most of the representative work falls on the Second Prince. You know Zen does not mind the audience-like meetings with civilians of all ages and statuses; in fact, he rather enjoys those, being able to listen to the peoples' worries and problems. What he does not like are the meetings with council members, among them, first and foremost, Lord Haruka. As Prince Izana's oldest advisor, the Lord holds a sizable amount of responsibility whenever the Crown Prince is absent and that means that Zen has to deal with him on an almost daily basis.

He also is a conservative, stuck-up, entitled aristocrat who regards it as his duty to have an eye on the Second Prince during the Crown Prince's absence and who believes in rank and duty more than he probably believes in God. You have the sneaking suspicion that breaches of etiquette cause him a never-ending migraine, and his perpetual frown speaks in favor of your theory.

It would explain so much.

From behind, Zen's shoulders look even more strained than ever. Standing at his shoulder, you are a lot taller, and yet his presence towers over the man standing in front of his desk.

He has grown so, so much, you think. And the thought… Hurts.

"I am aware of my status, Lord Haruka."

Zen looks like he is only holding back his fury with a major effort, something you have to talk about to him. He is the second prince. He cannot go around losing his temper because he does not feel well. But personally, you share his fury, right now, so you just freeze your expression and grip the pommel of your sword.

"I know my duty towards Clarines. Rest assured that I am not planning on eloping; neither today, tomorrow or in the future. Other than that, I do not see how my association with Knight Namassos might, in any way, be your concern."

"It has come to the notice of the public," the lord answers, stiffly. "And the picture the Royal Family holds in the peoples' eyes is of major concern to me. You have spent an extraordinary amount of time with that female knight. It has not gone by unnoticed. Do you deny this?"

"I do not need to deny or confirm anything." Zen's fists curl under the table. "And you are right, of course, Mylord. I will not say that the way I spend my free time is of no concern to you. But I will also not remind you of the fact that I am the Second Prince, and that I know my duty."

"Your Highness," the man answers stiffly.

"Thank you for your hard work. You may leave."

Lord Haruka leaves.

At his desk, Zen drops into his chair and grinds the palms of his hands into his eyes, speaking without looking up.

"Has my brother sent a message as to when he will return?"

It is incomprehensible to you how this eighteen-year old prince can be so mature and responsible, and yet so vulnerable and innocent at the same time. He knows his duty, knows it by heart and lives it, more so than any other person you ever knew. But he also struggles with himself on a daily basis. It is a conundrum, one you think you never will be able to solve.

(Sometimes you think there is nothing left to solve, really.)

You check the mail every morning. He knows you do, knows he is the first to know if you see any letter addressed to him. He also knows that sometimes, his Royal Brother does not deem it necessary to send a note beforehand to inform him of his movements.

"He is still in his castle at the border of Sui."

Zen leans back, sighing. "What is he doing there? I don't get him. He only gives me certain provinces to govern and keeps the rest to himself. But he leaves the castle for half a year, forcing me to deal with all those nobles and council men and women?"

"Maybe that is why he does it," you suggest, drolly, and Zen's sigh almost shakes the stacks of paper on his desk. But it also paints a smile on his face. Small, hesitant. But a smile nonetheless.

"Nah. He is up to something, I know it. I just don't know what yet."

"It is not as if you are responsible for everything in the castle," Kiki says. She has been there the whole time. It is not like you forget, but. Maybe she is a part of you so deeply already. "In fact, you're not even doing the complete administration."

Zen rolls his eyes. "Way to make me feel better, Kiki, thanks. You're right, but it sure feels that way, sometimes." He straightens up again and searches his desk for his pen. "Anyway, no use in stalling. What else have we got for today?"

Your Prince works until dinner, and then a little bit after that. He does not go to the training halls, like it has become a habit for all of you in the past weeks. Instead, he saddles his horse; Kiki and you follow him on horseback as he races through the forest on the castle grounds without looking back, even though he usually avoids them. After the day's stifling heat, the cool shadow under the crowns of the trees is pure relief. When you return, he goes straight back to reading the latest report from Wilant; and almost falls asleep over the document.

"Zen. Come on." You coax him back to his quarters, where he promptly drops onto the covers of his bed, still-dressed, face-down.

"You didn't go to the training grounds today," he mutters, almost to himself. I didn't go to the training grounds today. And falls asleep, restless and exhausted.

You feel your heart expand in the confines of your rib cage.

"I'm proud of you."

His hair is soft underneath your fingers; he is still six years younger than you and smaller, but he looks so much more tired than the young prince you first met years ago. Sometimes, you think with a quick pang of regret, you forget that you are not the only one aging.

"Good Night, Zen."

You cover him, carefully, and leave his chambers.

Kiki is waiting outside, vigilantly guarding her liege lord. She looks at you with that empty expression of hers that tells you so much and so little. She has also been strangely absent-minded for the past week; even in your worry for Zen you noticed. You suspect it has something to do with the courier that arrived from Evergreen Manor; the pattern was established some time ago. But. Kiki does not appreciate anyone meddling with her affairs, never had. Sometimes, you wonder: should you ask? Should you try to gain her trust up to the point that she might tell you about her worries, about her strife with her father? Strangely, something inside you balks when it comes to it.

Some things, you do not want to know.

(So who is the idiot here, you wonder.)

"He's taking it hard," you say, not necessarily to her. "I know I was all for letting him have this time with Knight Namassos, but I am not sure it was a good idea in the first place."

Some people say Kiki's expression is like a closed book. You do not agree. Now, she frowns, almost imperceptibly. "He needs this."

"Maybe. But he also knows that it is something he cannot have. Maybe he will have the luxury of falling in love with the woman that is meant to be his wife, some day. Queen Haruto and His Majesty the former King learned to love each other. But there is no way he will be allowed to marry a knight."

"It is not like he has to marry her immediately."

It makes you laugh, a tiny little bit. "No. You know what I mean." But the humor leaves in a rush, leaving you shivering. "I should not have let them get so close. I was enjoying teaching Zen and her so much I forgot myself. He enjoyed her presence, and she was happy to see him, as well…"

"So typical," Kiki says, with an expression in her grey-blue-grey eyes that you cannot read but that you have the nagging, nauseating feeling is important.

"What?"

"She has been asking you, Mitsuhide."

You can feel you frown deepen. "Asking me what?"

"Did it occur to you even for a second that she requested training with you because she has feelings for you, not for Zen?"

The world just… Stops. Freezes in possibilities you have cast aside as silly and impossible.

"What?!"

"Oh Mitsuhide," Kiki sighs, the unreadable something bright in her eyes. "So perceptive when it comes to Zen, but so clueless when it is about yourself."

"But… She… Zen…"

You have no words. Thalia, in love with you?

"Zen." Your partner echoes. "That is the problem, is it not?"

She walks away deliberately, and you are furious with her. With Thalia. With Izana. But most of all, you are furious at yourself.

And that does not solve anything.

So you take up your shift, standing vigil at Zen's door, tracing back your memories to try and find where it all went wrong this badly.

The night is long.

This summer, another stack of proposals arrives at Wistalia Castle.

Your father has carefully organized them, from the one of highest importance down to the lowest, has stacked and bundled them and added a short note in his own writing. Each one of them is polite and well-written and makes not a single demand. But all of it does not hide the fact that these letters are, in truth, shackles; each single one attempting to bind you to the place you have taught yourself to be heir of.

It is strange, really, because you do not mind carrying the duty of the next head of family on your shoulders. What you do mind is the shadow of your father that looms over you, follows you wherever you go and of which you can never be free, and… It aches. It pains you, the fact that this man does not want to control your life but does, in his own, subtle way. This man who loves you regardless and which you love, too, but your love is best kept over the distance, when his comments and his advice and his glances do not feel like barbed wire cuts tearing open your skin. Every word he utters you search and weight, even if he has no intention of criticizing you. It feels like it is, and – no.

You cannot.

It is still summer. It is still hot, almost painfully humid, and you breathe in and breathe out and the sensation between your ribs does not lessen, a million tiny, barbed-wire hooks tearing you into every direction at once, painfully and relentlessly.

You are still there, you remind yourself. You, and Zen, and Mitsuhide.

"They have both improved immensely," Mitsuhide says.

The two of you are watching Thalia and Zen spar.

It is the first time in weeks, and feels like a revelation. Like breaking the surface of an iced lake to breathe in again. Similarly, the air in your lungs hurts with its coldness. It is in moments like these when Zen appears to be completely relaxed and free; when his forced smile turns honest and the strain in his shoulders falls off like a shod skin. This probably is why Mitsuhide proposed training, today, despite Lord Haruka's complaints, despite the things you threw into his face at night, when you thought you could stay calm and inexplicably lost your patience. Despite the hesitation you can feel in his gaze, see in the way he clutches his sword. But then Zen laughs out loud when Thalia disarms him with a spectacular move. He dives for his weapon and jumps back into the ring with a look in his eyes neither of you has seen since the beginning of summer, and Thalia beckons in a come at me gesture, challenging and expectant and glowing, and he does.

For this moment, this precious, precious heartbeats, he has put everything aside: his responsibilities, his worries in the Crown Prince's absence, his duty to the kingdom. The aimlessness he feels. His unrequited feelings for Celeg's lady knight. Even – or especially – the complicated emotions in the face of Thalia's feelings for Mitsuhide.

Despite everything: just now, Zen is happy, laughing and burning with life. And with his laughter, the tension drains from Mitsuhide like ice melting off a glacier in spring.

Zen blocks a swing and counters, and Thalia is forced back.

"Her guard is down," you note.

Mitsuhide laughs, and something within you… expands. "No, it's not. Wait…"

Zen sees it, too, and takes the opportunity, lightning-quick. And is blocked viciously. Suddenly, he faces a barrage of attacks that forces him to go on the defense himself.

You feel your lips twist and hide a smile. "You planned that."

"I planned that." Mitsuhide's expression is one of steely focus as he observes and analyzes every move, and that, you think, is what makes him such a brilliant knight, a far better one than Hisame, maybe even better than the Crown Prince. "Knight Namassos and I have been experimenting a bit. I meant to ask you, Kiki. If the counter she just used is used against an opponent with a different weapon, say, a battle axe, how much damage could it do? It would need to be modified, of course… What do you think?"

"I'd have to try it myself."

He spares a second to grin at her, breaks his laser concentration for a second. "Tomorrow?"

You nod, and he chuckles, deep in his chest. It is one of his small smiles that twists his lips right then, the one reserved for Zen and few other people, and... You can feel it, a slight touch within your chest.

"Knight Namassos is leaving early tomorrow." The smile dims suddenly, sorrow creeping into his voice, and your chest grows cold instantly. "She has been deployed to Oriold."

The frontier garrison is at the North-Western border, half a day's ride from Lyrias. Clarines is not at war, has not been for decades. But if there is trouble brewing, it usually is in the West, where the country of Yelethanan shares its borders with Wistalia herself and her Northern Provinces of Wilant and Lyrias.

"There is no news of conflicts in the West." Your lips barely move.

These days, everything, in a way, is about Thalia Namassos. It would be so much easier if you could hate her, or, at least, feel the cold disdain you reserve for people you dislike. She is everything you grew up disliking, one way or another: she is pretty and self-confident and knows exactly where she stands. She draws people's eyes - she is not grey and plain and small, and nobody ever expects her to be anyone else but who she is. But she is also kind. She is humorous and fiercely intelligent, determined and always ready to help, and the fact that she is one of the few female knights alone – even if you never had an official education – puts you on the same side immediately.

You would not say she is your friend – she probably never will be. But she is important to the people that are important to you, and that is enough.

(But Mitsuhide smiles when he talks about her, he enjoys her presence, enjoys teaching her, and. No. There is no way you can ever put the needle-thin sensation of something burrowing into your chest into thought, much less into words.)

"No." Mitsuhide shakes his head. He is still looking at the sparring couple. "We are not at war, and I do not think we will be in the nearest future. I am not worried for Knight Namassos. She will fit right in."

Knight Namassos.

It occurs to you, suddenly, that Mitsuhide has not once called Thalia by her first name.

"Zen will be heartbroken, but it is better that way."

And everything he feels is in his eyes, plain as a day: his worry for Zen, his love and devotion for the Second Prince. His vow to protect him from anything, even from his own heart, if necessary. He would give up his own life for Zen, so giving up his feelings for a woman should be the least he would do. That is, actually, what you can see him doing: stepping aside in order to let Zen have what they both love.

But. That.

That, actually, is not even in question here. Because Mitsuhide loves Zen, first and foremost and only. You watch him watch Zen, right now, and you do not think he could ever look at a woman and choose her over Zen.

And the knowledge… Surprisingly: it hurts. Icy, fiery, painfully, in an intensity you have not expected and that makes your knees go weak with terror. Something inside you untwists and re-knots again, the memory of the sudden pain fading only slowly. You focus on Zen: dancing, fighting, smiling; so young and beautiful and alive.

"Did Lord Haruka arrange for this? Did he tell the crown prince?"

"Neither." Mitsuhide grimaces. "Zen mentioned to the Commander-in-charge that Knight Namassos has experience with the kind of weather conditions they have at Oriold. They are in need of experts for avalanche search-and-rescue."

You did not expect this. "Zen did?"

Mitsuhide's eyes are still trained on the sparring pair on the grounds before you. "We talked. He agreed it was the best way."

You breathe in, breathe out. Think. And it dawns on you, slowly. It is an ideal solution, really: Thalia has no need to feel manipulated, or that she received her marching orders only because the prince favored her. She is being transferred to a post where she can do good, learn even more and advance quickly. And Zen. Zen will not face any murmurs and rumors in the castle anymore when it comes to Celeg's lady knight, and he has no need to feel guilty avoiding her. He might still see her during his inspection trips. But that will be in the future, and give him some time to heal. And Thalia, if she is anything like you feel she is, will choose her duty and her position over any lingering romantic attachments she might have formed towards anyone, even if said attachment is the Second Prince's Sword. Just like you would not give up your path for anything and anyone.

(Is this, something inside you whispers, still what makes up the core of your existence? You shut it down, viciously.)

The perfect solution, even if it is far from easy. And Mitsuhide instigated it; found the only way out that was open to all of you.

It is... Stunning.

Mitsuhide is amazing, always and again. He should not be able to surprise you anymore, but he does: with his kindness, his insight. His strategic planning. The way he understands his surroundings so well and feels it so deeply. He is nothing like all those colorless lords and knights your father keeps handing over to you on a silver tablet; those pretentious men who know their castles and their duties but not their people, who think fighting is for the sake of glory only. Mitsuhide might not have their noble heritages and their heaps of gold and their sprawling estates. But he is worth one of them a thousand times over.

"That, actually, is a pretty decent plan."

Mitsuhide laughs. A sun ray dances through the upper windows, hits his hair and blinds you, momentarily, and you blink. When you can see again he is grinning at you, holding his sword in front of him to show you something, patiently waiting for you to catch up. His smile is alive, vivid and so like him, and the sudden revelation takes your breath away.

There is no sense in considering prospective partners if it is not Mitsuhide.