Chapter Text
An has her lips slightly parted, her arms sprawled onto the bed sheets that seem to swallow her whole. Straight out of a fairytale, the way she slept, the way she did almost anything, really.
Sometimes, in the past Mizuki had wondered if An was real. If the slew of poems and songs written about Princess Shiraishi were anything to go by, maybe she was fictional. Even now Mizuki occasionally felt as if An was simply a figment of their imagination, their interactions together having such a dreamlike quality that Mizuki was scared one day they’d wake up back at ‘home’ instead of at her side.
But that’s besides the point, Mizuki thinks, watching from the crack of the door. It was a miracle An had fallen asleep in the first place, her worries often keeping her up until dawn.
This meant An was a heavy sleeper. The world could burn down around her and she wouldn’t be privy to it as long as she had a thick blanket of slumber draped over her.
Sleep is like a shield. Protecting you from the outside unless your subconsciousness was cruel enough to force you to look at a tarnished reflection of your reality.
Mizuki can only hope An’s sleep is peaceful because apparently it can’t shield everything.
Take assassination attempts, for example.
The glass doors leading to the balcony slowly open, revealing a person decked out in black leathers. Face shielded by a hooded cloak much too large for their frame.
Mizuki doesn’t spend much time examining their figure, eyes flying to the dagger in their hands. Its’ polished with the intent of a quick and easy murder.
Now this isn’t their duty, it’s their life. It’s their An,
Holding back a scoff, Mizuki lunges into the bedroom illuminated by moonlight, taking no time to question why the doors were unlocked in the first place.
Recalling their training, their footsteps are light on the ground as if walking on clouds. They keep close to the shadows, back against the wall as they study what this person wants to do. It’s obvious.
Three…
Lulling the assassin into a false sense of security Mizuki allows them to take a couple steps into the room to be awed by the expensive furniture and paintings and the works.
Two…
It will all be worth it to see the juxtaposition of their expression later, Mizuki planning on admiring the look of terror on their face once they arrest them.
One.
Mizuki leaps into the light, sprinting over to the assassin and grabbing them by the shoulders. The assassin squeaks in surprise and as they’re momentarily caught off guard, Mizuki slams their body weight into them with a grunt in order to push them away from where An is sleeping.
The assassin locks eyes with Mizuki for a split second, brown eyes going from wide in shock to sharp in a piercing glare. Mizuki’s gotten enough of those looks in their lives to not get distracted—not like there was any time to be shameful at the moment.
Mizuki continues to ram this person back into the wall, head crashing against the stone with a shrill scream they can’t contain. For the love of the six saints, please do not wake An up!
It’s a feminine voice, the knight notes, as if it matters at all.
Seeing its easy access, Mizuki grips onto the assassin’s wrist and starts fighting the dagger out of her grasp. If they could take that, then An would be safe and the rest of the job would be easy.
With her free hand, the assassin punches Mizuki square in the jaw. Then, she kicks their shins and ducks, doing a somersault on the floor to evade any counter attacks.
Mizuki curses at themself for not seeing that coming. Also, for deciding to make their knightley uniform cute rather than practical. If they had opted for full metal armor, the kick to their ankles would have made this person cry.
The roll causes the assassin’s hood to fall down. In the moonlight, blood shimmers off a brown bob of hair. The disappearance in anonymity makes her falter for a moment, a second of hesitation as her eyes fly from the balcony where she came from and over to An’s bed.
With them on the floor, Mizuki uses this time to unseath their sword. Their ankles protest but they stumble over to the assassin regardless.
The next attack that’s launched on Mizuki is an overwhelming sense of deja vu as they point the sword at the attacker.
The eyes…the hair…her voice.
Oh, what the hell?
“I wonder,” The assassin almost laughs in the face of death. She looks at them as if they were something she’d scraped off her boot. “What would hurt this kingdom more? Your death? Or would it be the princess’?”
“There’s no time for mind games.” Mizuki says firmly, sword shaking in her hands due to how hard they were gripping it. “I have the upper hand here. Give up now and maybe you’ll be spared a lot less torture.”
“Torture? You can at least try to sound threatening, Captain Akiyama.”
Mizuki gasps. They need to focus.
“Is the sword to your throat not enough?” Mizuki raises their head to seem taller than they actually are.
“Your threats are empty. There’s a reason all the neighboring kingdoms beg the question of why you were chosen as the sole heir’s lead protector. And hey, I think I’ve found the answer, right here.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” They snap.
“So? Are you going to kill me like you intend to? Or are you just going to prove to me and the rest of the kingdom when they find the princess dead tomorrow that you weren’t made to play this role?”
“I—!”
Mizuki doesn’t know what they were planning to answer. Whatever it was going to be, doesn’t matter because the assassin recovers and sends a kick straight to Mizuki’s gut and the wind gets knocked out of them as they tumble backwards ‘till their head crashes against a wooden beam of An’s canopy bed. Their sword clatters onto the wooden flooring across the room.
The bed trembles and An stirs.
Stupid Mizuki, voices chide them inside their head, Always letting your emotions get the best of you!
Maybe they weren’t made for this—
The assassin runs past them, dagger out.
One slash to An’s neck, and she would die. The world would stop turning.
With a string of shakey curses, Mizuki urges her body to move. Crawling on the floor like a feral dog, they grab onto the assassin's ankle and yank her down to the floor with them. She lands on her back with a hoarse gasp.
In order to gain control over the situation again, Mizuki hooks their legs around her’s and leverages her over until they’re the one on top. Vision blurry, Mizuki punches her in the chest, only to immediately recoil—and they’re sure they formed their fist correctly.
“What the—!?” Leather isn’t supposed to feel like that. It’s like their fist made an impact on metal armor.
The assassin winks. “What? Don’t tell me the knights here don’t use dragon scales for—”
Dragons? Mizuki can’t even be surprised anymore.
Heaving heavy breaths and out of many options, Mizuki reaches for the assassin’s neck to shut her up.
Her brown eyes widen in surprise. Then, she smirks. She doesn’t even try to fight Mizuki’s grip.
Until she grabs onto Mizuki’s hair and jerks them forward, the dagger still tight in her hand, she takes this opportunity to dig the blade into Mizuki’s skin.
(“Cadet Akiyama?” The old general motioned for them to step forward.
Naively expecting praise, Mizuki had smiled brightly like they were awaiting a military badge for a war they’d never fought in. “Yes, captain?”
He handed them a knife, “Cut your hair.”
“…What?”
“You need to cut your hair short. Easy access for an enemy to take a hold of and then—“ He tilted his head and made a cracking noise, “You’re dead.”
Mizuki refused. They’d rather die with their hair long than live being a person they’d left behind. Like a coward.)
It’s crueler than most times they’ve been cut, as she does it slowly like she could do it all day if she wanted to, slicing from Mizuki’s jaw and splitting the fabric of their uniform to dig into their collar bone, twisting the dagger once she finishes.
Mizuki screams.
Their own blood lands on this assassin’s smug face as she revels in her so-called victory. They can feel it like running water as it drains down their neck and drips from their chin.
“Damn you—“ Their voice is something close to a growl. But as long as they are on top of her, the assassin can’t get anywhere. Recalling years of training in two seconds, Mizuki punches her temple as hard as their fleeting consciousness allows.
(“To knock someone out immediately,” General Kotaki had said to a group of hopeful cadets. Half of them are dead now. “Hit them in the temple.”
Mizuki had always liked his advice better.)
Once she’s out, Mizuki stands up, legs wobbling. They actually contemplate throwing the assassin’s body off the balcony but they wouldn’t do that no matter how badly they wanted to.
Mizuki can’t do that.
That would be hypocritical.
They are both committing treason.
Mizuki shakes the thoughts away. In the end, An is still alive. That’s all that matters.
“What am I going to do with you?” They question aloud. The limp body shockingly does not answer back.
They do, infact, flinch when someone speaks up. Saints, this was not a good look.
“What happened?”
Mizuki never closed the door behind them, and now Touya Aoyagi was standing in the doorway.
“Aoyagi, lend me a hand?”
He hesitantly walks into the room, sparing An—who was somehow still asleep—a glance. Moving around the bend of the bed, he looks as if he’s at a loss for words at the sight in front of him.
Keeping his volume lower than a whisper, Touya swiftly takes their hands and guides them away from the body on the floor, “You’re injured.”
But Mizuki won't lean onto him for support. They are his superior and will not falter. ”Really?” They snort. “Look, that doesn’t matter right now.”
He understands. There's not much room or time for protest.
“We can’t tell anyone about this, Aoyagi—wait, you take the legs, I’ll take the wrists.”
Completely unphased by the body the two of them are soon dragging down a moonlit corridor, Touya replies, “You’ll hold this kingdom’s fate in your grasp alone?”
“I can’t let An, er, her majesty know. She’ll—she’ll be so freaked out!”
“I think she would prefer to know about an attempt on her life. Anyone would.”
“Ignorance is the key to happiness, I’ve learnt that much from my time in the ranks. I know her…knowing about this would screw her over. She trusts me and I can already picture how much darker her eyes would get, and—and how guarded she’d be and—“ They couldn’t lose An. The girl didn’t even know about the nightly patrols nor the reason why they took place! How would she react to this!?
It occurs to them then that they were overstepping…Touya and Mizuki aren’t close enough for this conversation.
“Respectfully, Captain, if trust is what you’re worried about…what do you think hiding this from her majesty is going to do…?”
Mizuki pauses in their tracks. The sudden stop made them realize how loud their steps echoed and bounced off the walls compared to Touya’s. The lower knight—ironic because of his height—continued on. Though he was kind enough to spare her a look of something that looked like disdain, judging by the smallest curve in his upper lip.
Besides, they were no stranger to secrets.
Mizuki says, “It will protect her.”
The two of them dump the body into a cell in the dungeons and make a silent oath they’ll deal with her in the morning. Touya says he’ll think of an alibi for the assassin, a lie for why she magically appeared in the dungeons overnight.
“I’d hate to overstep, but…you are bleeding.” Touya swallows hard. He closes the doors to the dungeons behind him. “A lot.”
“Nothing I’m not used to.” Is Mizuki's reply, ignoring the fact they nearly miss a step and tumble down. There’s something nauseating about the stairs that lead back up, winding in circles similar to the dizzying torrents of thoughts in their brain now that the adrenaline is wearing off. Maybe it’s made worse by the fact that Mizuki knows that if they would end up down here—if not dead—if words of their treasonous actions were to end up in anyone else’s hands but theirs and An’s.
“I’ll bring you to the infirmary. The nurses should still be awake at this hour.”
"No. I can’t let anyone know that something happened. I can’t be seen like this—ugh!” They catch themself, the limp on their left leg not being very helpful in this whole going upstairs thing.
“For your sake or for the princess’?”
They want to retaliate, but Touya is right. He’s the wisest person Mizuki’s ever met (besides their sister) but they suppose it is to be expected from a former prince.
They push open the door once the two of them are fully up the stairs and Mizuki relents, “Is it wrong if the answer is both?”
Having nowhere else to go but An’s bedroom, Mizuki takes the ribbon out of their hair, it was the one An gave them the night they had finally kissed each other. But that’s not important right now. They need their hair down. It will cover their sliced skin so as to not make An worry. The shadows will blend in with their bruises.
Their hands are shaky and bruised. Calloused, too, and they feel awfully weak. Because they weren’t meant to be in the castle guard. Mizuki is a fraud, and it's obvious to everyone. Touya just saw them struggling to walk and even a goddamned assassin knows how to get into their head.
Why did An choose Mizuki? Why does she bother?
Why does she even love them when their inadequacies are the most blaring things ever?
That dagger had gotten so close to An’s neck. The moment keeps replaying in their mind.
“Mizuki?” An suddenly asks, her voice soft and almost innocent. The naivety of it all makes Mizuki’s stomach flip in immense guilt.
But they shouldn't feel guilty. They're making an active decision to hide that attack from her.
“Oh hey, An. What's up?” They keep their eyes on the ground. They acted brashly whenever they looked into those amber eyes. They want to ask how long she’d been awake, but judging by the grogginess in her voice it can't have been for very long.
“Come to bed with me?” When Mizuki doesn’t reply, she continues regardless, ”You can change into one of my night gowns, you know? It might not go down past your ankles but….”
“A-are you sure!?” They sputter out, not even worried about their volume anymore since clearly Touya’s the only other guard doing their job correctly.
Mizuki is one to talk.
“I offered, no? There’s a bunch in my wardrobe.”
They don’t try to fight An on this even if they think this is a luxury that they are undeserving of. She’s naturally too stubborn to take no for an answer and that was outside of being royalty. So, they open the wardrobe and squint their eyes to see in the darkness. They grab the first one they see, the satin fabric feeling like heaven on their fingertips.
With the darkness providing privacy, they hack away at their uniform. They had designed themself when they had first gotten promoted to captain. They like the authenticity of their adjustments although they came with the price of taking forever to put on, and to take off. Not to mention, lack of protection in combat.
All their worries are muffled for a moment as the nightgown drapes over their body. They sigh, exhausted and lay their hair on their shoulder to cover the cut.
“You look really pretty.” An says as Mizuki slips under the covers.
She doesn’t give them any room for objections, arms wrapping around their torso, pulling them closer to her. Back to An’s chest, she burrows her face into Mizuki’s shoulder.
Mizuki wants to throw up. She has no idea.
“Jeez, An, you’re choosing now to butter me up?” They fight the disgust they harbor for themself and instead have to try and dismantle the smile that tugs at their lips. “Could've praised me during training yesterday. You were drooling.”
An makes a series of incomprehensible noises, ”I don’t have designated times, Mizuki! I have thoughts and then I say them.”
“This kingdom is doomed.” They joke.
“No, it’s not! I think this kingdom will benefit from a queen who never shuts her mouth.” Mizuki thinks they also benefit from this. When you’re committing treason together…is there any room for dishonesty?
Saints, Mizuki is hopeless.
Lying to the sole person they can be honest with.
The two of them giggle like they’re sharing afternoon tea.
“Anyways…” An says, “You should try and sleep. I can tell you've been hard at work, all night after all.”
Mizuki feels like their blood goes cold. There’s… there’s no way she could possibly know, right?
Dammit, is it even possible to be that much of a heavy sleeper!?
“Shouldn’t I be the one hounding you over sleep?” If Mizuki wasn’t gifted at deflecting literal knives in combat, at least they could sleep at night knowing they were exceptional at deflecting questions. “…What woke you up?”
“I had that nightmare again.”
”The one about your dad?”
“Yeah.” An yawns, “It's kind of getting on my nerves now. Just want it to stop” She starts carding her fingers through Mizuki’s hair.
“Mhmm…” Mizuki gets an urge to hurl again. An is so close to their new wound. One stroke too strong and her gentle grasp would be running down the cut along their neck instead of their hair. What’s stopping her from spotting it and then knowing— “It’s gonna be okay.”
They take a deep breath, fingers wandering to An’s arms on their stomach and rubbing them up and down.
“Optimism.” An muses, “It looks good on you. Or should I say it sounds good on you?”
“Then I take it that you agree with me?”
“Yeah, mainly because you’re here with me. And I don’t have to worry about you leaving right? You'll stay...”
Normally, Mizuki would crack a joke, Why would I leave you? We’re committing treason here, so if one of us is going down, we’re going down as one.
Instead, Mizuki gulps.
“Yes.” They nearly shiver, “Yes, An. I will.”
As slumber soon takes An over, Mizuki wonders if unconsciousness is the shield they had originally thought it to be. It’s more like a blanket with singe marks that make it porous; an illusion of safety. Sleep, they learn, isn't something that protects, but rather needs protection.
So as their selfishness keeps them awake, they kiss An’s neck where that dagger had almost sliced and they’re thankful it was their own neck that leaked blood instead of hers.
Perhaps Mizuki is no better than an assassin.