Disclaimer: Akagami no Shirayukihime is the property of Sorata Akizuki
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Characters: Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki
Pairing: Possible one-sided Izana
Wordcount: 741
Rating: General, Romance
Timeline: Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49
Quotes: "Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it."
― Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
Izana! We should pile those dried leaves there!
Sunflowers. Grass. Dried leaves and twigs. The smell of a hot midday sun. He could see himself playing with a group of children. They wore a commoner's clothing, stained with grass and sweat. All of them were busy creating a huge pile of dried leaves raked by the royal gardeners earlier. He was excited to jump on the pile and hear the leaves crumble beneath his weight while he gazed at the blue sky above.
Your Highness! It is time for your lessons!
No! I want to play! Let me play some more! He pulled his arm away from the servant sent to fetch him for lessons.
You cannot! Besides, the royal council will be disappointed if they learned that the future king is mingling with the commoners.
They are not! They're my playmates! Who set up such a rule anyway?
And then suddenly, the smell of sunflowers faded. It was replaced by dried eucalyptus, dried wood, incense and the musty smell of a schoolroom during rainy days.
He could feel his own eyes tearing a little as the sounds faded in his ears.
Why now? Why keep such a memory? Those were the good old days of his childhood, a couple of years at least before Zen was born.
"You did well, Your Highness. You guessed most of the scents."
"What is it called?"
He can feel her puzzled expression. "What?"
"The perfume." He clarified a little impatiently. "What do you call it?"
"I have no name for it." She withdrew her wrist from his grip, and he let go of her reluctantly. "I was trying to create the smell of the coming autumn-something that I looked forward to during my childhood. But along the way, I was reminded of how I was isolated by the village kids because of the color of my hair. They wouldn't let me participate in games at all. So my grandmother asked me to make straw dolls to pass the time away. We gave those dolls to the orphanage."
"I see."
He heard the sound of bottles clinking together, a chair scraping the floor. In a way, he could understand what Shirayuki was feeling-the feeling of being isolated. When he was young, he never made any distinction between classes. They were all the same to him: friends and playmates. He began to start looking at them differently when his tutors and professors filled his months with nothing but learning geography, arts, history, politics and etiquette. He just assumed then that since he was special, he must never mingle with them anymore. Shirayuki was an outcast because of her hair. And yet, even as she longed to be accepted, she took her experiences in stride and created other memories to tide her over the loneliness.
He clenched his fist a little, feeling the bitterness creeping into his chest at this. Wasn't he doing the same to her? Isolating her from his brother? Because he felt it was his duty as a future king to be mindful of the company his brother keeps?
"I have another one." She interrupted his thoughts, and he sat up a little straighter from his stool.
"I hope it's nothing like the first one." He couldn't help saying. "I…I do not like it." He admitted. And it took courage for one Prince Izana to admit on something that makes him feel vulnerable.
But to Shirayuki, she did not notice this. She was too preoccupied with her scents to give notice on the serious expression of his blindfolded face.
"Me, too. I was only curious what you would make of it."
He felt her sit in front of him again, knees bumping into his.
"I will be putting a few drops on my forearm, as I need a fresh patch of skin."
He nodded. Already he could smell it. Like crushed plums and caramel.
A warm hand closed over his, guided him upward, along her arm, fingers gliding over silk. When the hand stopped, he gripped her arm, pulling on it near his nose.
He heard a soft gasp, the skidding of a stool; his free arm shot out instinctively, holding her on the waist.
"Careful." He murmured, his hand snaking around to hold her at the small of her back. He felt her stiffen immediately, but before he could say anything further, the smell of the scent hit him like a battering ram.
Author's Notes
Flower Meanings:
Sunflower – false riches, pride
Grass – (Vernal) poor, but happy
Eucalyptus – protection
Scent Meaning:
Plum – Lactonic scent; creamy, rich and luxurious
Caramel – gourmand scent found in desserts; sweet