Work Text:
Ayaka is quite used to loneliness. It doesn’t bother her, really. At first, there were her parents —Her mother’s kind smiles, her father’s strong arms lifting her to the clouds—, the Kamisato state bustling with sounds, and people, and things to do, and words to share.
Then, there was silence.
When they passed, it was like a gray cloud had flown by and stationed itself upon their very lives. The corridors were silent. The words were ushered, not shared. And their duties grew much, much heavier on their shoulders. Ayaka watched with a heavy heart how her beloved brother shouldered the responsibilities. One after the other. As many as he could take. And Ayaka did the part, too. She silently said goodbye to the fond memories of a happy childhood, and walked with hefty steps towards the woman she needed to be. Decisive. Courteous. Knowledgeable. Gracious .
And then, the silence became bearable. Welcoming, even.
Ayaka learned to appreciate it on the long nights of paperwork, with its sole company and the soft rustling of the leaves outside of her bedroom window. The end of spring. One she would forever be fond of.
And then , Lumine came into her life.
She wasn’t loud, no. She wasn’t a whirlwind, a tempest breaking through her perfectly crafted balance in the quietness of the state. She didn’t force her way through her life. No, she blended right in. Like there was always a place for her, even before Ayaka could recall her face.
Where there used to be silence, now there’s a new light. There’s the comfort of Lumine’s words, telling her how her day was while Ayaka busies herself with paperwork, listening in quiet content; there’s the shelter of Lumine’s shadow walking by her side down the streets of her beloved city; there’s the familiarity of Lumine’s movements, the sharpness of her blade shaping Ayaka’s own skills in a sparring session. And then two. And three. Until the sun sets over the horizon, the air starts to get chilly, and Thoma says, It’s late, Lumine. Why don’t you stay for dinner?
Now, Ayaka has almost forgotten how it feels like walking into an empty room, the promise of another scheduled and gray day hanging in the air. Instead, she finds her friend there, more often as of late. Lumine, with Ayaka’s own sleeping garments —she’s stayed over enough nights to know where to look for them herself, the need to ask for permission forgotten, as all good things are—, waiting for Ayaka to come back from the bath she’s just taken. And Ayaka smiles, because her room looks better like this, with Lumine’s presence making this small room feel more of a home than the entirety of the state.
Your hair is a mess , Lumine laughs, breaching the distance with swift steps. Here, let me help you .
And Ayaka can’t find it in her to deny her request, really. Not when Lumine starts stroking her winter hair with a familiarity that’s not lost to her, the brush soothing her locks and smoothing over the tangles in the motion. Ayaka sighs , with the heaviness of a memory buried in her chest, a time when silence wasn’t a companion, and her mother would brush her hair with gentle hands. But now, there’s only the golden eyes staring back at her through the mirror. And she finds the same gentleness there. Like a memory. A mirage, even. That makes Ayaka’s chest bloom with the stroke of Lumine’s fingers in her hair.
You’re so pretty, Ayaka. Lumine’s eyes search hers across the reflection. Honest, so openly affectionate that Ayaka’s words get caught in her throat for a moment. Is she blushing?
Don’t say that, Lumine, she rushes out, foolishly, drifting her eyes away from her friend’s gentle stare. You’re very pretty too!
With her blazing golden hair, inviting hands and the kindest smile throughout the land, Ayaka is certain there’s not another person as charming as her beloved friend. She simply can’t fathom the thought. Not that she will voice this in such detail. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feels Lumine will tease her if she were to hear.
Instead, what fills Ayaka’s ears is the sound of Lumine’s laugh. Delightful . If Ayaka could bottle the sound, she would. And she’d open it in the quietness of her room, when the world grows a shade too dark. She’d let it fill the room with light .
That’s not what I meant, Lumine drops her hands from Ayaka’s hair, places them on her shoulders. She squeezes, just a little. But I appreciate the compliment.
Ayaka isn’t quite sure what she misunderstood. But seeing Lumine smile, she thinks, might just be enough for now.
The festivities are her matter of expertise.
Ayaka has been at the head of the Yashiro Commission long enough to master the art of the festivities. Of organizing such displays of entertainment, beauty and etiquette worthy of all the praises in the land. She carefully arranges the ornaments according to the themes at hand. She sorts out the guests and patrons and makes sure they’re well attended. She orchestrates the divertissements, and the music, and the cuisine. She makes sure everybody is having a good time.
But when it comes to her, she couldn’t possibly be more tired.
Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adores her position. She finds such easy joy talking to her guests and listening to them say, This is such a great party, Lady Ayaka! Or when they say, You outdid yourself this time!
Still, as the sun goes down, lazily setting beyond the horizon, Ayaka has been running around all evening —Making sure everything is nothing short of perfect for the guests— when Lumine approaches her.
Might I steal you for a moment? She says, a half smile hanging from her lips, her hand tended towards her dear friend. You look like you could catch a break.
Ayaka doesn’t hesitate to take her hand, slightly bigger in hers. Easily, as all things are with Lumine. She finds such great comfort in knowing how easily she can read her expressions, how ready she always is to step in and lend a hand. And she says, What might you have in mind?
Lumine simply smiles, tugging slightly on Ayaka’s hand. She follows, of course.
Your musicians are playing a beautiful song, Lumine turns around when they arrive at the center of the ballroom, golden eyes shining like a distant star. She places her hand on Ayaka’s waist, hesitant. There’s a question there. If you would like to join me?
Ayaka swallows, momentarily dazed by the suggestion. The warmth of Lumine’s hand on her waist —Over the pretty baby blue dress that she picked for Ayaka days before the party—, so foreign but so right . Like the most esteemed figures of Inazuma aren’t dancing and drinking and talking all around them. Like the world is theirs only, silent and intimate and true . Just for a moment. And she says, How could I refuse, if you ask me so politely?
Ayaka would swear a star is born in the curve of Lumine’s lips at her answer —The way her golden eyes light up, tender and radiant, something out of a painting— and, when Lumine guides her, Ayaka follows.
I had hoped to dance with you all throughout the night, Lumine admits, swaying with the rhythm of the music, echoing through the hallway. Ayaka marvels at how easy this feels. How right . How she’s danced with dozens of noblemen, but now she feels she didn’t do it right. Like she’s never truly danced before until it was Lumine guiding her steps with gentle hands on her waist, following her body.
And she smiles, naively, and says, Likewise. There’s nothing quite like dancing with a friend to unburden oneself with the duties of the night.
There’s something shifting in Lumine’s eyes. She can almost tell. A star twinkling in the dark of the night, hesitant in its light. A lone cloud partially covering the sun. Something left unsaid.
Just as she’s about to ask if she’s said something wrong, Lumine smiles again. A full constellation drawn before Ayaka’s eyes. And she says, Then, let’s dance until our feet hurt .
And Ayaka follows. Joyful in her demeanor. Like there’s nothing more important than the weight of Lumine’s hands on her, the echoes of their steps blending with the song. And the next. And the next .
It’s not unusual for Ayaka to find herself wandering the streets of Inazuma, the beloved city she cherishes more than she can say. Her position as a member of the Yashiro Commission often takes her outside of the comfort of the Kamisato state, has her reaching out for political allies, wealthy merchants, shop owners to hire for the upcoming festivals.
However, it is unusual for the Shirasagi Himegimi to find herself doing grocery shopping.
It is usually Thoma who handles such chores —With ready hands, and a dashing smile that makes everybody simply remember him. As the kind young man that knows everyone in this town. As the gentle boy who helps them all to the best of his abilities. As the one who loves dogs the most in the entirety of the nation—, but he excused himself the week prior, The Weinlesefest is coming to Mondstadt. I would like to take my mom to taste the wine and see the dandelions.
And Ayato, of course, let him go. It’s been entirely too long since he last visited his birthplace. As kind and loving as he is towards the Kamisato siblings, he too deserves time for himself.
And Ayaka just happened to finish her paperwork for the day, —Miraculously so— thus she offered herself for the task. Besides, someone insisted on accompanying her. How could she refuse?
Is there anything else we need to buy, Ayaka? Lumine walks by her side, and Ayaka is almost embarrassed at herself. For finding such easy joy in doing such a mundane activity with her friend. Something as simple as walking side by side down the streets of her city fills her with a delight she simply can’t put to words. She loves the domesticity of it all.
My brother asked me to retrieve some lavender melon for our next Hot Pot game. For when Thoma returns, Ayaka taps her chin, and Lumine nods and starts walking, her strong arms —Much to her protests— carrying all of Ayaka’s groceries. She might as well try one more time. Please, allow me to carry some as well. You’re going to hurt yourself!
Well, in that case, I suppose you could hold this, Ayaka. Lumine says as she shifts all the bags to one hand. She easily slips the other in Ayaka’s own free hand. Pressing their palms together. Interlacing their fingers.
Lumine’s smiling cheekily. Ayaka’s breath is caught in her throat, cheeks blazing, and Lumine’s smiling so shamelessly .
How can—? What does—? Why did she—?
Come on, or they’ll run out of lavender melons by the time we get there! Lumine tugs at her, walking off with her hand carefully holding Ayaka’s. Not too tight. Not too loose. It feels so warm against hers, the coming of summer against the winter of her skin. And she feels all sorts of fireworks exploding beneath her ribcage at the motion.
I… I’m coming! Ayaka follows, not letting go —Never letting go— as she lets Lumine guide her. Watching her back, her golden hair swirling with the gentle breeze, cascading sun down her shoulders. And she realizes —foolishly, so foolishly— that she would follow Lumine anywhere in the world, if she were allowed the chance.
Ah , you always bring such wonderful tales from your adventures . Ayaka sighs, placing her teacup down.
The gardens of the Kamisato state look nothing short of beautiful at this time of the year. Still, her blue eyes are focused on Lumine. As they have for the better part of the last hour, as her friend described in great detail all about her latest adventures in a foreign land.
She feels a tinge of jealousy —She can’t deny the fact. Not to herself, at least—, but, most of all, she feels deeply grateful. Despite having the whole world at the reach of her fingertips, Lumine still chooses to come back to her. Time and time again. To share her stories, to tell her tales of distant wonders, to paint with her words a dazzling scenery for Ayaka’s eyes only.
I brought something for you. It’s nothing too sophisticated, I’m afraid, but, Lumine says, rummaging through her things. She takes out a box and hands it to Ayaka. I saw this on my travels and I thought of you .
Ayaka takes the box in her hands carefully after a nod of approval from Lumine, placing it over to her side of the table for a closer look. A small, ornately crafted oaken chest with the Sumeru crest engraved on it sits in her hands, somewhat heavier than she has originally imagined. She opens it with cautious hands, and.
A flower.
Glossy evergreen leaves arranged in whorls, spirals of the same color as her hair. Ayaka slowly lifts it up. A calming, peaceful fragrance fills her nose, dancing in her lungs at the motion. She inhales, eyes closed, and she can almost see a field of winter flowers painted behind her eyelids. A wonderful sight of a faraway land, brought to rest in the palm of her hands.
A sea of Gardenias , the gentleness they bring.
It’s beautiful, truly. Ayaka breathes out, and she can’t fight the blush that climbs up her cheeks, covering the bridge of her nose with pink.
Does Lumine know what this flower means?
In Inazuma, each flower has a meaning engraved in its history. As the Shirasagi Himegimi, Ayaka is well-versed in the art of Ikebana , the traditional art of arranging flowers, as well as Hanakotoba . Virtuous and shy as they are, the people of Inazuma have a rich culture when it comes to flower language. The language is meant to convey emotions and communicate directly to the other person without needing the use of words.
In Hanakotoba , flowers such as this, Gardenias, have quite an alluring meaning —Ayaka can feel them bloom within her chest, in each and all the chambers of her heart, when she thinks of their meaning— a secret love.
A love so pure and hidden from the world. Unexplored, joyful and welcoming.
Love .
Ayaka takes Lumine’s hands on hers and thanks her for the thoughtful gift. Winter leaves like her hair. A sweet fragrance like the perfume Ayaka always wears. It’s nothing beyond that, she tells herself —She has to— Lumine can’t possibly know flower language to that extent. She simply saw a pretty flower and brought it to rest in Ayaka's hands. This was a misunderstanding on her part.
…Quite a beautiful one, if she allows herself the thought. But nothing else.
Ayaka is quite used to finding herself lost in paperwork. Day after day. And during the nights, even. She’s nothing short of efficient when it comes to working hard. For the sake of the Yashiro Commission. For the sake of her beloved country. And every single one of the precious people that live in it.
Still, Ayaka is human. It’s only at the very end of the day that she allows herself to remember that. When the tiredness of the day climbs up her back like a snake. When the sleep pulls on her eyelids and her eyes grow unfocused between paper and ink. When the fatigue settles on her bones and wears her down, down, down .
Only then does she allow the night to settle in. Quietly, she makes her way to her chambers. And, on the lucky days, she will have a guest waiting for her.
You had a long day? Radiant like the sun, Lumine’s light shines in the room like the sun never left. Like the morning is lazily settling in and she’s still adjusting her eyes to the gentle sun that offers her hands out to her. Come here. You did so well .
And Ayaka is too tired, her mind is too clouded to even question the motion —Her treacherous feet take her closer to Lumine, step by step, inch by inch— as she melts in the soft circle of Lumine’s arms. Let’s her embrace her figure, circle her waist with secure arms, squeeze her body with a familiarity that’s all but lost to her, even through the daze.
Ah… You’re so nice to hug , Ayaka confesses —foolishly, innocently —, takes shelter in the warmth of Lumine’s chest, and her sweet scent, and the kiss she presses at the top of Ayaka’s head.
Yeah? Well, I like how soft you feel in my arms, Lumine’s chuckle echoes low in Ayaka’s chest, tickling her ribs at the motion. And she wants to stay there. Selfishly. Egotistical as she could never be. Where the world is silent, and nothing is real if it exists beyond the outline of Lumine’s arms wrapped around her body.
She can’t even think of the implications —Far beyond where her mind rests, nestled in the crook of Lumine’s neck, the shape of her collarbone touching her winter skin— of her wish. A simple dream wrapped in a bubble of innocent desire. Of everything she can’t voice just yet.
It flashes like a comet through her mind. A thought. Lumine’s not from this world. She’s traveled throughout the lands, experienced different cultures. Perhaps affection is a throwaway act for her. Perhaps it's not imbued with the emotion Ayaka so dearly wants it to be. Nothing more than two friends finding comfort in the close proximity.
But she can’t be too saddened by the thought. Not when Lumine guides her to her own bed, gently coaxes her to lie down, and she lies beside her. She can’t entertain the thought when Lumine’s hands are finding her again, soothing, and soothing, and soothing as she cradles Ayaka in her arms again.
And Ayaka finds a home there, nestled against Lumine’s chest —Her heartbeat under, the pulse that says, I’m here, I’m here, I’m not leaving —, and ultimately decides that being like this is more than enough.
Ayaka isn’t foreign to being wanted. Arrogant as that sounds, it’s true.
Ever since she stepped in as head of the Yashiro Commission alongside her brother, she’s received all sorts of letters —From noblemen, from commoners, from merchants, from foreign lands, even— asking for her hand in marriage. For business. For admiration. For political reasons. A great many people wish to have her, a strong desire to reach her and receive in turn her attention, her status, her position.
And Ayaka has always despised the fact.
Of course, if her brother were to require that of her, Ayaka is ready to marry herself for political reasons, or whichever the reasons there may be —Ayato would never put her through that. He would never. He would fight against the Raiden Shogun’s Mussou No Isshin barehanded if so that would shelter his sister from such a situation—, if the moment ever were to arise.
Ayaka knows she’s wanted. But, at the same time, she deeply knows she’s not. Those people who write her letters —And letters, and letters , and bring her gifts, and empty words of praise— wish for her status only. And even those of them who genuinely want to pursue her for her , they’re under the false pretense of the Shirasagi Himegimi. The perfectly crafted, perfectly sculpted, flawless version of herself that Ayaka has cultivated for the public eye.
Sometimes, she feels as if no one knows the true Ayaka. The one that lies within the model smiles, the exquisite manners and exemplary behavior. The Ayaka that’s shy when speaking with people her age. The Ayaka who dearly loves sweet treats and steals them from the kitchen from time to time, who likes to dance barefoot under the gentle light of the moon, who’s a little bit childish, a little bit clumsy, who’s cheeks light up with pretty pink colors when she’s given praises from the heart.
There’s only a handful of people who know her like that. Her brother. Her dear friend Thoma. And, of course,
Are you throwing these out as well? Lumine tilts her head, her golden hair cascading down her shoulder, a handful of closed letters from suitors sitting on her hand.
That I am. There’s no use in keeping them around. I don’t plan on marrying any of these people. Ayaka sighs, sorting through the names of the noblemen, commoners, merchants who seek her hand. The maids who receive the letters for her kindly keep a list for Ayaka to check later on when she’s available.
There’s a pause before Lumine speaks again.
What would one have to do to put themselves on that list? Lumine asks. Ayaka immediately turns to her. Her tone is teasing, but there’s something else sitting behind the golden of her eyes. Something Ayaka can’t quite place. She shakes her head, drawing an easy smile.
What use would you have of that information? She says, going back to sorting the letters, placing them in a basket to be thrown out. That would only mean you’re trying to pursue me.
Lumine doesn’t miss a beat when she says,
Maybe I am. Gently, she takes Ayaka’s hands off the letters, carefully holding them with her own. Ayaka feels her fingers slightly trembling in her hold. She looks up, at Lumine’s eyes already sitting on hers, the tenderness she finds tucked there, and her heart forgets to beat altogether. Would that be so unthinkable?
Ayaka’s throat feels dry —Her thoughts are rushing through her brain, raging like a tempest , her chest is shuddering with every breath—, when she says, Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but… Are you perhaps flirting with me?
And Lumine laughs —Openly, unabashedly —, her golden eyes crinkling at the corners so unfairly beautiful, and says, I have been for the last couple of months. But it’s kind of you to notice.
And oh , Ayaka is so overtaken, so completely engulfed by joy that she can’t find the words to say. Eloquent as she is, there’s no expression that she knows that can faithfully express how much she’s feeling right now —Her chest all but overflowing with bliss , dripping down her veins, soaking her bones with the light of a thousand suns—, so she does the next right thing.
And she holds Lumine’s face in her hands, careful in the motion, and kisses her.
With all that she is. With all that she could ever hope to be. Genuine, and honest, and so full of all the good things that grow in this world.
And she wants Lumine to have it all —All that she is, every last bit of skin, of heartbeat, of breath— and keep it, cherished and secure, in the vault of her chest.
I love you, I love you, I love you, she whispers, like a secret that’s finally free, an open envelope filled with poems of love.
And I love you too, and the way Lumine kisses her back, smiling against her lips, Ayaka calls it home.