Warning: Rating increase. This chapter gets a little sexy.
The Dance of the Butterflies
Chapter Two
She couldn't remember her dreams, yet as she stirred awake she vaguely recalled the sweetness of peaches and longed for a taste. And then she recalled tender lips, moist and soft, and calling her name. Arika pressed her fingers to her lips baffled by the stirring of sensations she could not fully encapsulate except to say that her lips ached for something that they shouldn't. She was almost certain it wasn't a dream. And then it wasn't. Her thoughts cleared from the fog of sleep and she mentally berated herself for remembering what should have been forgotten.
Because she's forgotten, even though he hasn't.
She was haunted by the stirrings inside her. Mocked by the necessity of repression, and angered that someone like Masaru Pitzer would know her dirty little secret. It was more than just the knowing. She hated his face, his eyes. In them he harbored a haughtiness; self appointed in condemnation.
But is it really so dirty, she dared to wonder. It felt…
Again, those lips came to mind. Arika remembered how she had encircled her with her arms and how the warmth of such a petite girl seemed to burn through the fabric of her shirt as Arika's hands had traveled up the curve of her back. Over time, memories were bound to fade, and yet in the last two years her memories of that night were no less dulled.
Arika sat up and inhaled deeply to calm the mounting palpitations of her heart. She slowly rose to her feet, patting down her clothes from leaves and grass, and ran her fingers through her hair. It surprised her when her fingers brushed, not hair, but trailed along a crown of flowers. Even more surprising were the hairpins that held it in place. She recognized them by touch; matching silver pins in the shape of diamond studded sunflowers. Arika had given them to her on her seventeenth birthday.
"Mashiro," she whispered under the hiss of the wind and the trees. Her voice was swept away with the leaves.
Mashiro was advancing briskly through the West Walkway back toward the castle. Her tight fist was clamped to her chest almost as if she feared that her pounding heart would burst right through. Her breaths were heavy and nervous with fear.
I shouldn't have done that. And yet she had.
In a moment of weakness she had given in to the temptation. Arika had looked so delicate, so sensual, and yet so primal as she slept soundly on the plush grass. She had looked as inviting as a dream, and perhaps Mashiro could reason that it was precisely because Arika's allure had been so dream-like that her own mind had lost touch with reality.
It hadn't been enough to touch her face, or rub her lips, although it should have been. Mashiro had long decided that her mere proximity would be enough. And yet today, being as near to Arika as she was, her breath so warm and close that it tickled Mashiro's chin, was just so utterly unsatisfying. More so, for its suggestive propinquity.
That's when she did it. It hadn't been so hard; it had only been a matter of inches. And just like that, she had closed the gap between their lips. Her lips were as soft as she remembered. Not what anyone would expect from an Otome who had clocked as many field hours as Arika had. As tough and boyish as she was, Arika was still so decidedly feminine, from the supple curve of her chest to the delicate features of her face. Mashiro could not have avoided kissing her.
Soft kisses. Butterfly kisses. Mashiro rested a hand on the curve of Arika's hip as she stole the warmth of her lips. It had taken her more than a moment to realize that Arika had been kissing her back. Mashiro's eyes opened in surprise as Arika's lips nibbled at hers. She pulled away struck with guilt and mortification, both for stealing her lips and getting caught. But Arika remained asleep, ignorant of Mashiro's transgressions.
Then her eyelids fluttered and a small sleepy groan rumbled in her throat.
That's when Mashiro ran. She had stumbled her way out of the garden in her scramble to get as far away as she possibly could. Her mind jumbled with disorienting thoughts and her hair danced wildly in the warm wind. It was only until she reached the end of the West Walkway that she felt safe enough to stop.
That was so stupid, she thought as she braced herself against a lamppost, still wondering if Arika had noticed what she had done.
"Miss Yumemiya certainly has very lovely lips," a familiar disembodied voice whispered in Mashiro's ear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she jumped.
Mashiro took a moment to mentally compose herself before she turned and smiled with as much dignity as she could muster and greeted Meister Viola.
"Ah, Meister Viola, this-this is a surprise. I understood that you would not be stopping by until next week. The council has already disbanded for the day." Mashiro met Shizuru Viola's eyes in wavering defeat. She had no sooner locked eyes with her when she looked away, intimidated by the coyness in Shizuru's smile and the shrewd look in her eyes.
Mashiro wondered just how much Shizuru knew of what had transpired just moments ago in that garden. Did she see? Did she see what I -
"Actually, I stopped by to see Arika regarding Garderobe business. I hope Your Majesty doesn't mind. Quite informal, really, but I was in the area."
"Oh." Mashiro bit her lower lip.
"Is this a bad time, then?" Shizuru prodded. "Should I come back some other time, instead?"
"Yes. I mean, no. No, it's fine, really. Arika's free. She has lots and lots of time on her hands. You're actually doing her a favor by stopping by."
"I am glad, then." Shizuru replied.
"She's usually so difficult," Mashiro went on in nervous chatter. "She runs about the castle like a small child, disrupting the staff and picking arguments, while I'm kept busy trying to run the country. Only I can't keep focus because she's busy getting herself into ridiculously inventive antics."
Shizuru smiled. "Arika certainly is a refreshing character. She complements you very well."
Mashiro turned away, her face burning red. "If you don't mind waiting inside, I could have Aoi fetch Arika for you. It shouldn't be very long."
"There's no need for Your Majesty to bother herself on my account. I can track her down myself," Shizuru assured her.
Mashiro nodded, but still couldn't bring herself to turn and face her. "Then you can find her in the—"
"The West Gardens," Shizuru finished for her. "Yes. I know the way." She excused herself and backtracked down the West Walkway. Mashiro watched her go, stunned by her easy proclamation.
"Meister Viola," Mashiro called after her, stopping her in her tracks.
Shizuru looked back with her unwavering smile.
"Meister Viola, did-did you-?" But Mashiro couldn't bring herself to inquire further, too afraid of revealing too much and the answer she would receive.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Never mind. Maybe some other time."
Shizuru nodded and didn't pry any further. Mashiro felt the tension in her body subside as the Otome turned away without another word.
She probably didn't see. It's just my imagination, she assured herself.
Shizuru had taken no more than a few steps when she paused once more.
"Mashiro," she called out, dropping the formalities. "If someone goes out of their way to provide you with reasons to give chase, it usually means she wants to get caught."
Mashiro paled and all her muscles tightened. She remained motionless even long after Shizuru had disappeared down the walkway.
Whenever Arika was in the presence of Headmistress Kruger or Meister Viola she had trouble making eye contact. Although she idolized Shizuru and had great respect for Garderobe's headmistress, she was shocked at the discovery of the true nature of their relationship. Certainly there had been the rumors and speculations; such rumblings were commonplace at an all-girls-school, but the pair hadn't been the only ones placed under scrutiny. Chie Hallard had often been at the center of speculation, often paired with some random girl. All Chie had to do was flutter a smile at a classmate and by the end of the school day the whole school was clamoring with news of a reciprocated love declaration, and engagement, or a love hotel rendezvous.
Even Arika's name was bounced around a few times in connection with Nina. Apparently their heated banter and awkward tension as roommates only masked a deep-seated passion. Almost no one knew that true source of their strain lay in the fact that they had both been in love with the same man.
Rumors were a dime a dozen, so when Arika discovered that Natsuki Kruger and Shizuru Viola were in 'that' kind of relationship, she was completely dumbfounded.
"Is something wrong, Arika?" Shizuru asked as Aoi filled her cup with tea.
"Ah, no. No." Arika replied nervously.
"And yet you appear rather distracted. Although, it may have something to do with your attire," Shizuru surmised.
Aoi was just as distracted by Arika's outfit; the cargo pants and the cherry red suspends. Not to mention the flower tiara. Arika looked…strange.
Arika glanced down at her outfit and realized just how inappropriately she was dressed.
"I should go change."
"Oh, there's no need for that," Shizuru said as she rose to her feet. "Besides, this is just an informal meeting."
She stood before Arika and with graceful poise, plucked a petal from the crown on her head. "Quite the lovely crown you have."
Arika was flush with embarrassment. She ran her fingers over the crown, seeking out the pins, but was having trouble.
"Here," Shizuru said, reaching for a hair pin. "Let me."
She pressed the pins in Arika's palms, deliberately lingering her fingers on the girl's hand a moment longer than necessary, then cautiously removed the crown, careful to untangle the interlocking strands of hair. Aoi looked on, red-faced. It seemed to her from the coy gleam in her eyes that Shizuru was playfully flirting.
Arika was just as unnerved, although more from the memories Shizuru was unintentionally eliciting. It had been just three months before that Arika had walked in on Shizuru and the headmistress in a moment of impassioned intimacy. Arika had been so overcome with shock at the discovery that she was unable to move. Her body felt wooden and her mouth dry. She was desperate to get away. Yet, once she regained all her senses, she was too transfixed by sensuality of their movements to leave.
They made noises. Soft slight groans and sighs of satisfaction and urgency. Shizuru had the headmistress thrust up against the wall half-clothed and stroking her in places that Arika never realized could be touched in such ways. It was embarrassing; their touching and kissing. Open-mouthed kisses, long and deep; messy, frantic.
Arika could see them whispering to each other between breaths, but only heard the wispy mutterings of air, and saw the trail of gleaming moisture Shizuru's lips left on Natsuki's soft skin as she traced her way down her neck and along the jut of her collar bone. As much as Shizuru enjoyed giving, Natsuki took pleasure receiving. She reveled from the attentions her breasts received. Shizuru cupped and massaged, kissed and suckled. And Arika grew ashamed of her intrusive voyeurism.
Natsuki pulled Shizuru to the bed where they undressed each other, the removal of each piece of clothing conjoined with sensuality and teeming with sex. Arika was not so naïve as to not understand the basic concept of sex; it just startled her to read it in the simplest of touch and movements. And she realized that sex was more than sex was in textbooks.
Her own breathing grew dense and she forced herself to pull her eyes away. Her shame was etched all over her face, from the dilated pupils to the flushed cheeks.
What bothered her most was not their teeming passions, but looks in their eyes that went beyond these passions. The connections and desires within. They were the source of her envy.
"You shouldn't be so ashamed," Shizuru advised.
Arika looked up at her, confused at first, and then pushed those memories aside. She forced eye contact, but she looked more like a trapped nervous creature, and she realized that she was.
"The crown is actually quite lovely."
Arika nodded at a loss for words. Shizuru moved toward the window and fixed her eyes on the Gazebo below where Mashiro leaned contemplatively against the rail.
"Arika," Shizuru began. "I came here today to talk to you in an unofficial capacity, mainly because Garderobe Academy has no real jurisdiction or say in political affairs." Shizuru paused, not quite certain how to go on, then proceeded without hesitation. "The Council Elect has approved the engagement between Mashiro and the Gristholm Sovereign."
Aoi, invisible as the wallpaper in the room, glanced nervously at Arika, preparing herself for an explosive reaction. Arika was always anything but subtle. Only now she wasn't. She didn't move or flinch. In fact, Aoi wondered if Arika had heard at all. But Shizuru knew she had and did not bother with unnecessary repetitions.
As the shock set in Arika opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. Her hands dropped to her sides and the silver hairpins fell, resonating as they clinked on the marble floors.
Author's Note: Sorry about any spelling or grammatical errors, but I was anxious to post. Feel free to point out any necessary corrections.