Disclaimer: Nope, last time I check I do not own Akagami no Shirayukihime. So, I forcefully kidnapped Izana.
Big thanks to the lovely Talye Kendrin on doing a fantastic job of beta-ing my works. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.
Characters: Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki
Pairing: Possible one-sided Izana
Wordcount: 755
Rating: General, Romance
Timeline: Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49
Quotes: "He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent."
― Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
Izana stumbled into a living, breathing, miniature forest of some sort: small pots of herbs crowding one another grew on one side of the wall; they were neatly arranged in a semi-hanging position. A few of them were even hung on hooks, embedded on the exposed timber beams, vines with intricately shaped leaves curling and cascading like jade waterfalls. Likewise, a medium-sized plumeria tree blossomed heavily in quiet glory, its waxy white flowers tinged with deep pink at the edges looked pristine and heavy with dew. A number of exotic orchids were arranged in a haphazard manner, crowding a battered table with peeling white paint, whose drawers were spilling with loose parchment, inks, quills, wax candles, twine, empty liquid bottles and cork stoppers. He could see yellow orchids, deep purple ones, and small white varieties whose main stems bent low due to the abundance of the flowers all competing with their sensual vanilla scents. Reaching out for one of the blooms, his fingers brushed the sepal; they felt feathery with his touch.
Small, stained glass lanterns hang above the windowsill, the colors shining like the semi-precious stones of turquoise, amethysts and zirconia. A gentle breeze wafted into the room, ruffling the many scraps of crisp parchment tacked to a corkboard, filled with neat, cursive writing and edges stained with ink and other unknown substances.
Izana wrinkled his nose a little; already he was beginning to get drunk on the smell of sweet jasmine, vanilla, citrus, and cedar wood. It was not at all an unpleasant thing, the combination of the scents.
Shirayuki's room made a sharp contrast to Garrack Gazelt's room. The head royal pharmacist likes to fill her cupboards with her own personal concoctions of wines, spirits, gooey, often bitter-tasting medicines, scrolls and books of unknown origins, and the occasional bottles and boxes of noxious minerals she often ordered in small quantities for her experiments and studies. And while he enjoys his visit to the Royal Pharmacist's offices (because he always gets to take one bottle of her alcohol back for his own drinking enjoyment), he doesn't know what to make of this office.
Shirayuki's room looked like a whimsical fairy wonderland of some sort.
He peered cautiously about the room, and immediately spied the redhead bent over her workstation, hard at work. It looked like she did not notice his presence, too absorbed with her own writing and mixing some unnamed liquids all lined up in front of her.
He moved closer, his footsteps light as a cat's. It was the first time he observed her up close, without her knowledge.
Next to a battered table filled with the blooming orchids was her workstation, a square table filled with flasks, glass wand stirrers, a heavy stone mortar and pestle, dried herbs and flowers hanging on handmade herb driers. A large number of small bottles were set in three tiers, each labeled in her neat handwriting and filled with liquids, essences and oils: rose water, lemon oils, orange blossom, violet flower extracts, sandalwood, and myrrh, among others.
In front of it all, Shirayuki was hard at work, concentrating and mumbling to herself. She placed a tiny glass funnel into one of the empty bottles; using a clean flask, she began to mix several liquids with measured amounts and drops of essences. Swirling the contents inside the flask in a counter clockwise motion until the liquids became a pale golden color, she then placed the glass container down and began to scribble on the piece of parchment to her right.
Next, she took a pipette and dipped it into the flask, pressing the rubber end so that some of the liquid was sucked into the thin tube. Carefully, she withdrew the pipette out of the flask and observed the liquid up close against the sunlight.
Izana could smell the scent she created, immediately noting its beauty and sensuality in one whiff. He bit his lower lip and felt a stir in his loins, almost as if….
"I didn't know that you have started experimenting with perfume. I thought your specialty is herbal medicines and antidotes for poisons. Especially since Zen is still learning how to make himself immune to it."
She gave a sudden gasp, her hand almost dropping the pipette, until she gripped it again at the last second. The liquid fell, as commanded by gravity. It landed at the back of her free palm, glided over her white skin before it was absorbed by the pores of her skin.
"Your Highness!" She whirled about in surprise.
Author's Notes
1. Flower Meanings:
Plumeria – symbol of love, beauty and grace
Rose (tea) - I'll remember - always
Almond Blossom - Hope; lover's charm
Orchids – love, beauty, refinement; you flatter me, thoughtfulness