Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The blue eyes inherited throughout the Gojo lineage were unknown to most except the select few. They were a blessing, bestowed upon the bloodline from centuries before, serving as a symbol of regality. Yet, under the instructions of their parents and theirs before them, Gojo Satoru and (Y/N) lived from behind a blindfold. Word among the streets and myths alike painted the eyes of the Gojo descendants as picturesque skies. Serene and glass-like, the people gossiped. But what a shame that they were so unnatural, the streets murmured.

They were unnerving to look at. 

That's why they hide behind a piece of cloth, the rumors claimed. It's a curse and a gift from the gods. A sign of power but a toll on the human body. 

Itadori Yuuji had to disagree.

For decades now, his family had diligently served the Gojos. Yuuji, from childhood, had been witness to monumental milestones for that reason. He had been there at the funeral of the previous king and queen. He had been there for the coronation of the young Crown Prince, who had the hefty duty of leading a kingdom thrust upon him from adolescence. He had grown up alongside the kingdom's sole princess and had seen first-hand how beautiful the idiosyncrasy the people taunted was. 

And by the gods, Yuuji thought, would he be too cruel to ask that this wonder be kept from the world?

As any other night, she slept soundly in his arms. Perhaps it resulted from some lingering trauma, but Her Highness never slept alone again. Even before Yuuji had been officially appointed as her personal knight, she had asked him, ordered him even, that Yuuji stay by her bedside while she slept. He hadn't been aware of the divide in status then; who could've explained to a ten-year-old why he couldn't keep a dear friend company? 

It started as merely holding her hands. He recalled how lonely the princess was in her dreary chamber. She'd lost her parents at the mere age of ten. She'd been in mourning even up until her brother's coronation. Yuuji knew, however, that (Y/N) was not mourning the loss of her parents whom she barely knew. No, Her Highness had been grieving her brother's loss of childhood. The brightest years of Satoru's life were snatched and deprived from him for the sake of a political coup that never stood a chance. Kept busy by the reality of running a kingdom, (Y/N) began seeing her brother less and less.

She had no one left. 

No one except Yuuji.

He stayed by her side out of fear that she'd weaponize her memories against herself. He made her promises that he intended to keep to the grave. But over the decade since, he never once overstepped the unspoken boundary. It was always the princess and her knight. He didn't dare to entertain the idea that he might one day be prince consort, even if she told him over and over that there would be no other. Over and over, he would insist that she was the people's princess and one day would have a duty to fulfill. 

Over and over, he'd feel tortured at the look she'd give him. 

It had been recently that the distance between the protector and the protected drove Her Highness to make bolder demands: Stay with me. Sleep next to me. Hold me.

Don't leave me.

He'd be a liar-and a very bad one at that-if he was to say he didn't want to comply. Even now, as he stared down at the blanket of white locks tangled between his fingers, something stirred in his heart. Such an emotion would've cracked a person under pressure had it been anyone with a weaker sense of duty. On some days, it felt like (Y/N) had outgrown her grief. There was no need for them to continue these romantic charades, yet neither of them felt the urgency to stop doing so. 

"Yuuji?" A feeble voice, half-asleep, shook him out of his trance. 

His heart lurched. There it was: those mystifying eyes peering up at him beneath a curtain of glowing white hair. The moonlight shining through the window seemed to illuminate her. To him, she easily rivaled the moon itself. 

But what sets Gojo (Y/N) apart from the rest of her clan is the color of her eyes. They were supposed to be a blue so bright and startling that one would feel electrified. A captivating blue that commanded attention. 

Her eyes were violet. A vibrant violet-blue color that resembled crystallized hyacinths. They were naturally entrancing without effort; Yuuji was all too familiar with the power behind those eyes. 

"Your Highness?" The knight whispered a heartbeat later, shifting his body to adjust away from hers. Gently, he brushed her hair out of her face. He forced his touch not to linger on her cheek, never to linger. 

He hated how she tested his patience and resolve; she hated how he refused to give in. 

(Y/N)'s brows furrowed, as they always did when he referred to her by her title rather than by name. But then it was gone as she burrowed closer into him, her arms wrapped firmly around his waist. 

"I can't sleep if you're so far away."

He allowed himself a chuckle. "I think we're as close as we can humanly be right now, Your Highness." 

Silence. He peered down at her head out of concern; did his words anger her?

"...My brother requested that I join him for an audience tomorrow. He's never done so before, should I be afraid?" (Y/N) didn't look up. Even without being able to read her expression, however, Yuuji could hear and feel how nervous she was. Her grasp had tightened around him and he had heard the slightest of trembles in her voice just now. He wanted to tell her that she needn't read too deep into it, that it was a simple audience to test her court awareness. 

In truth, he had already been told of the contents regarding her audience tomorrow. His beloved princess was in for a rude awakening and it could be the last time they ever spend their nights as they were used to. No one would be left satisfied after tomorrow's events. In truth, Yuuji wanted to tell her, was itching to tell her. 

But his King had trusted him by confiding in him, and Yuuji couldn't bring himself to betray his sovereign. 

"Hasn't His Majesty asked for you before?"

He felt the eye roll without seeing it.

"Enough with the formalities. When has he ever truly been just 'His Majesty' to you before?"

"Since we were ten, (Y/N). He's been that to me for ten years." 

He was caught off-guard when she wrenched herself from his arms, sitting up in defiance. Out of reflex, Yuuji promptly propped himself up on one arm, meeting her gaze. How many times have they had this conversation already? Had she finally decided that he no longer deserved her affection?

"Then am I to take that as I am only 'Her Highness' to you? Do I mean nothing more to you than an objective in your occupation, Itadori?"

Yuuji winced at how pointed her words were and her use of his family name. It felt as though she had spat at him, though he could make out how hard she was gritting her teeth as she awaited his response. No, he wanted to tell her. No, you mean so much more to me that I couldn't even fathom where to begin explaining.

Every passing second that he failed to voice his feelings, (Y/N) could feel the buildup of emotions swelling in her chest. Every chance this topic is brought up, he always chooses silence. Yet, she knew how he felt. They all knew. There wasn't a single soul on these castle grounds who wasn't aware of the constant push-and-pull the princess and her knight played. They all simply chose to ignore it, but (Y/N) could ignore it no further.

The rest of the royal court and the elders, even her own brother, may take her as a doted-upon princess, but she was no idle fool. Never before had Satoru asked for her at an official audience; he'd always sought her out in private, by himself. Instead, this time, she'd been sought out by his chancellor. She knew well what this meeting had in store for her: every other lady of her age was either seeking marriage or being sought after. Being the only living princess meant that she was automatically the most eligible bachelorette, and the thought of it disgusted her.

"Fine," Her lips trembled as she broke eye contact by turning her head away, "If you insist on lying to me and yourself, so be it." She continued to face away from him, throwing herself back onto the bed once again and turned on her side. The warm light from the torches outside her chamber spilled in through the bottom of the door; it failed to reach the darkest parts of (Y/N)'s room where the moonlight had not touched. She watched as her vision of the lights blurred as a fat teardrop slid across the bridge of her nose and seeped into her pillow. How cruel.

Beside her, Yuuji was sitting as if he had been turned to stone. The guilt and shame that weighed in his stomach and heart certainly felt like stone. It was his job to protect the princess in every aspect, yet he had no idea how to guard her from the complexities of politics that would pounce at the opportunity to exploit her in the name of love. He couldn't risk becoming a pawn to be used against her. 

He reached out and gently pulled her towards him, masking his shock at how she didn't fight him as she normally would while upset. Without him even asking, (Y/N) had turned back to face him. Her tears had stained her eyes an angry red color; the sight struck Yuuji's heart painfully.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)." He cupped one hand behind her head, tucking her closer to his chest. "I'm sorry."

She didn't reply, but he didn't expect one. He hadn't imagined the night would play out like this, though he should've been prepared for it.

"...What happens after tomorrow?" Her voice was weak when she spoke, and he could sense the fear in it.

"Nothing changes. I'll still be here. Where you go, I go. Just like it's always been." That was true to some extent. Surely, His Majesty wouldn't allow his only sister to leave the only home she'd ever known without a familiar face. Whether that be a lady-in-waiting or a personal guard, he must allow for someone to accompany her. 

Even if it needed a little convincing.

Chapter Text

The castle grounds were flooded with blood.

Not literally, of course. She’d been told countless times by her servants that they never were. But, whenever (Y/N) walked past the chambers that once belonged to her late parents, she would be reminded of the trails of blood that decorated the corridors. They had been everywhere: splatters of blood on the walls, pools of it on the marble floors, and even visible streams as the life spilled out of the bodies upon bodies littered throughout the hall. She would remember all too vividly the sobbing from her mother, begging for her life to be spared. 

She would remember the late queen directing them toward her child, her own flesh and blood, pledging them her loyalty in return. 

Her ten-year-old daughter who had not even the faintest clue as to why they were under attack. All (Y/N) could fathom was the bitter taste of bile in the back of her throat and the terror that kept her feet planted in the ground. How had she become subject to these horrors? What had she done except be born into this family, only to be offered up as a bargain to save the skin of her kin? (Y/N) remembered falling and trying to scramble away. Her stupid limbs had betrayed her, however, and she could still feel how that monster of a man had grabbed her by the hair. She’d thrashed and kicked and bit. Something had cut into her body and drew blood. But she hadn’t cried. She had been shaking in fear and soiled herself, but never once did a single tear escape her. 

Her mother’s groveling, she recalled, had been in vain: (Y/N) had watched the blood spurt from her mother’s throat as another of the men sliced into her. She’d made eye contact with her before the life faded from her mother’s eyes. She had listened to her gurgle and spit out the princess’s name one final time. 

The hatred burned into her gaze still plagued (Y/N).

Had it not been for Itadori Jin that night, (Y/N) would never have seen daybreak. The now-former captain of the guard had come to the princess’s rescue, fighting tooth and nail to ensure her safety. He had been the only one to do so. The five assailants that an entire squad of soldiers were unable to dispose of had been decimated within minutes. It hadn’t been until after recovering her brother’s unconscious body that (Y/N) began to cry. That morning, her father’s aide brought along a horrifying report to the court.

Her father had been poisoned, a painful death that left him a withered corpse. 

Her mother was dead, having bled out from her numerous wounds. 

Her brother was on the brink of death himself, having shown no signs of waking for days. 

Over 20 deaths of upper-tiered officers, all of whom received funerals appropriate for their dedication to their post. 

All of these deaths caused by five unhappy citizens who sought to end the Gojo dynasty through purging the remaining bloodline. 

It was from that day onwards that (Y/N) grew wary of sleeping alone at night. She feared that one day, people sharing those same ideals would come to finish what their martyrs didn’t. And so she isolated herself in the castle once Satoru regained his health. Only the Itadori’s were allowed to attend to the princess, and word traveled quickly throughout the kingdom, bashing the state of their monarchy.

(Y/N) hadn’t stepped foot into the throne room in quite a while. She disliked participating in the court hearings and council meetings; the elders and courtiers had rarely treated her with any proper regard. To them, her eyes were an oddity that deprived her of any true claim to the throne. Therefore, her thoughts and opinions were unworthy of their consideration. 

She wondered what sorts of expressions she’d elicit if she were to tell them that Satoru valued her input more than their aimless jabber. 

“Your Highness?” The herald beside the throne room doors was still doubled over in a bow, unable to move until (Y/N) allowed him to.

She was startled from her memories. Sheepishly, (Y/N) wiped the sweat from her hand on the skirt of her gown. Yuuji's mother and (Y/N)'s governess, Kaori, had gently coaxed her into it this morning. The ridiculous garb was stifling and restricted (Y/N)'s every movement, but Kaori had insisted that she needed to appear formal in front of the court. 

"Do pardon me, Sir Ijichi. Please rise."

Though she wore their signature blindfold across her eyes, she could make out the faint outline of Ijichi straightening from behind the thin veil between her and the rest of the world.

She attempted a smile in his direction, although she was unable to tell if he returned it. Unlike Satoru, who possessed an innate ability that allowed him to see beyond the blindfold, (Y/N) had not been fortunate enough to inherit this ability. Nobody knew why, but her father had reassured her that eventually, it would manifest. Eventually. Until then, she could only continue the facade. No one outside the immediate family should learn of this, her father had warned her. No one. 

It made her feel like a fraud. 

"Entering Her Highness, Princess Gojo (Y/N)." Ijichi's booming announcement was accompanied by the groaning of the heavy oak doors as they were drawn open. Even from behind the cloth shielding her eyes, (Y/N) was nearly blinded by how bright the interior was. It was a vast room, comparable to the Great Hall, which served as the largest room in the castle. The room itself was enclosed by four walls, all of which had windows of a substantial scale mounted within them. The morning sunlight that beamed through them kept the hall warm, although that could also be attributed to the rows of council members gathered in their seats. The white marbled floors reflected the sunlight and bounced it off the equally decorated walls. There was a splendor in the way the room seemed to sparkle. The path laid out before (Y/N) was a straight one; the king sat at the end on his throne atop a pedestal. Beside him was a shorter, smaller throne, meant for (Y/N) but served to collect dust instead. She could make out one more figure who stood behind her brother. 

His chancellor and his best friend, Marquess Geto Suguru. He was akin to a second brother to her, though he was just as preoccupied with running the kingdom as Satoru was. 

(Y/N) couldn't bring herself to move forward. The council members were seated the entire way down the line; she didn't need her sight to know what disdain they were casting her way. She'd thought that she had grown immune to their looks, but it appears that she had overestimated herself. Were they not satisfied with the misfortune that had hounded her since birth? Why must they insist on alleviating their stress by channeling it into hatred towards her? 

A hand lightly pressed into the small of her back. The touch was fleeting but oh-so-intimate and it caused (Y/N) to straighten. A tingle traveled down her spine as Yuuji whispered from behind her. His breath hit the nape of her neck when he spoke, and she could feel a warm sensation flaring in that very spot. 

"Your Highness, you have to move forward." He paused, before adding: "Please, you can do this." 

She whipped her head in his direction, trying to meet his gaze. It was unheard of for him to speak up in a formal setting as a personal guard; they were trained to serve and protect, seen but not heard. There would be talk about his misconduct yet he didn't seem at all fazed.

She dared any of the miserable old rats to make a comment.

She caught his weary smile first before his eyes, and it was more than enough encouragement. His hand fell when she took her first step and she had to restrain her protests. His heavier footsteps fell in sync with hers as he trailed behind her. Her gown felt even heavier than when she'd put it on this morning and the old heels she'd forced her feet into were eating away at her toes. But she continued to stride forward, mirroring the confidence she'd seen Satoru carry himself with. 

It was a miracle that she didn't trip over the shoes and make a fool of herself as she reached the pedestal, dropping into a low curtsy before her brother's feet. He was seated with his legs crossed, his crown absent from his head and the only accessory decorating him was his cape.

"Your Majesty," she began, only to be interrupted by a barking bout of laughter from her beloved brother. Her eye twitched. This grown brat.

"There's no need for formalities with your dear brother, (Y/N). Come take your seat so that we may begin." Satoru, without even attempting proper decorum as a monarch, waved for his sister to take her seat. As she hiked up her dress in order to climb the pedestal stairs, she grumbled at him just loud enough that only he'd be able to hear. It earned another bout of laughter from him as she began to settle into her cold rigid throne. She'd even caught a glimpse of a smile on Suguru's lips. But somewhere in her brother's glee, (Y/N) picked up on a hint of sorrow. As if Satoru was still coming to terms with something himself. 

She didn't get a chance to inquire before a second announcement rang throughout the hall. 

"Entering His Grace, Grand Duke Fushiguro Megumi." 

Chapter Text

In her seat, (Y/N) straightened.

Fushiguro Megumi.

She recognized him, or at least recognized his name. Before she had even been conscious of the world, high society's favorite hot topic was the Fushiguro's. So controversial was the occurrence that (Y/N) had heard about it throughout her childhood. She watched a figure, clothed and decorated in black from head to toe, enter the throne room. As he began approaching the pedestal, she gathered what she could recall about the Grand Duke's background. 

Fushiguro Megumi was a noble partly by blood and not by name. His father, originally Zenin Toji, had hailed from the Zenin Clan, a noble archduchy and family whose political influence and power challenged that of the Gojo's. Fushiguro was the maiden name of Toji's wife, a commoner whom he had willingly abandoned the Zenin name for. 

Zenin Toji had been a likely successor for becoming the next archduke, but Fushiguro Toji would trade every prestige and status in the world again and again if it meant that she was his and he was hers. 

Following his departure from the Zenin family, it was said that Toji had become a mercenary-and an impressive one at that. But since the death of his wife, his whereabouts have been dubious. Some say he'd died on a mission, others say that the heartbreak had caused him to abandon his children. Heartless is what high society referred to him as. A monster.

There was no telling what kind of person his one and only son had grown up to become. That thought made (Y/N) nervous. 

But it was unfair to judge an individual through their familial ties. Her own parents had been emotionally inept and dismissive towards their children; they had been vain and power-hungry, yet both Satoru and her were far from that. 

Their marriage had been loveless and practical, a mere convention that served to solidify their positions at the tip of the hierarchy.

The reality that (Y/N) now had the same future laid out before her was jarring. Her head was spinning; she wanted to yell at him to turn back and leave as quickly as he could because surely he would be just as opposed to the arrangement as she was.

Sadly, her voice failed her and she could only watch as Megumi dropped to one knee before Satoru and her, his head lowered in a bow.

"Greetings to Your Majesty. Your Highness."

His voice was apathetic and deadpan, though naturally gentle and had almost a lull to it. Anyone would have been able to comprehend that his respect was a simple front; his lack of concern for the hierarchy was as clear as day. From behind her blindfold, (Y/N) narrowed her eyes in an effort to discern Megumi's features. Her curiosity was getting the best of her: was he wearing an expression as flat and unemotional as he sounded? Was that anger she detected in his voice, or had it been a product of her imagination? 

"Now, that's a new way to address your benefactor, Fushiguro." Considering the tension throughout the throne room, Satoru's carefree tone was incredibly out of place.

Benefactor?

(Y/N) shot her brother a perplexed glance, only to be left even more baffled when she made out the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Her attention flickered between the kneeling duke and the king; in what way was she meant to interpret "benefactor?"

"It feels the most appropriate in this setting, Your Majesty." Megumi stood up from his kneeling position without waiting to be excused. A disapproving murmur settled throughout the stands amongst the council representatives.

Satoru shifted in his throne, uncrossing his legs. As the king leaned forward on his seat, the hushed chatter immediately died down. 

"As witty as ever with the retorts, I must say." His grin grew wider before he continued. "I'd like to acknowledge before the families today that I have sponsored and mentored Fushiguro Megumi since before his days training in the royal guards. As you all know, I granted him the title of Grand Duke for his contribution to defending our borders and quelling the reappearance of mutineers and behemoths alike."

A wave of affirmations from the councilmen answered Satoru. (Y/N) already knew about the latter: the infamous behemoth slayer had been building his reputation since coming of age. It would only make sense for him to extinguish rebellions in retribution to his benefactor. The former, however, she had not been aware of. She'd always assumed he'd been a prodigy. Although, this revelation provided a more reasonable explanation for Megumi's achievements at such a young age. The royal guards underwent the most rigorous training in terms of knighthood. But Megumi couldn't have been any older than she was; when did Satoru have the opportunity to seek out what would've-at the time-been a child? She wondered if Yuuji recognized him or knew him; he'd also been personally mentored by Satoru at one point. She didn't dare look back at him, however. He's had enough attention drawn to him for the day. 

When (Y/N) refocused her attention on Satoru, the wicked mischief in his smile caused her stomach to turn on itself.

That was the expression of a man keen on instigating chaos. 

"Today, I'd also like to address his heritage and reinstate his right to the line of succession in the Zenin lineage."

Astonished gasps and comments alike erupted throughout the throne room. (Y/N) could've sworn she saw Megumi's entire figure visibly tense at the response. 

"Your Majesty! That child's father has forsaken the Zenin name, therefore he carries no right to the duchy!" The loudest objection came from Zenin Naoya, the current archduke's youngest son. It was rumored that he was soon to be named the next head of the family. Without a doubt, he was feeling threatened by the sudden appearance of a new contender. 

Satoru clucked his tongue in defiance. "But Fushiguro Toji was born as Zenin Toji, was he not? If the Grand Duke's father was a Zenin, then the same blood runs in him as it does you. He has every right to it as the rest of you." 

"Yes, but his father removed himself from the family records. For that reason, his offspring has no place in our family's line of succession! He has no ties to the Zenin house!"

A fit of sharp anger stabbed at (Y/N) when she heard Naoya's callous words. It only served as another reminder as to how much she despised the system they were all prisoners to. For the briefest moments, she felt sympathetic for the boy standing alone amongst the commotion. From him, (Y/N) saw a shadow of herself. Isolated and ostracized for their birthright for which they must bear the misfortune of their parents' decisions.

The words were spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"But what thoughts does the archduke himself have to say on this decision?" 

The princess's voice, previously unheard of in the throne room, echoed throughout it, cutting off Naoya's next comeback. The room had fallen silent as if the seated nobles were still deciphering whose voice they had just heard. She could feel the number of eyes focused on her, but the most intense came from Megumi's direction. As expected, she seemed to have struck a chord when Naoya hissed his response: 

"Princesses who have no right to the throne would do well by sitting quietly and listening."

The venom dripping from his words pinned (Y/N)'s tongue to the roof of her mouth. She'd spoken up out of impulse when she should've known better than to reprimand Zenin Naoya of all people.

Her lips parted, but no retort came to mind. Sensing her uneasiness, Satoru's expression darkened.

"And you'd do well by minding how you speak to my sister, Duke Zenin."

He'd returned and delivered the same amount of bite effectively in one simple sentence. (Y/N) mentally thanked her brother. Naoya seemed to be at a loss of what to say as he had fallen silent.

Finding the outcome satisfactory, Satoru steered the conversation back on topic. 

"Then, as the princess suggested: Archduke Zenin, why don't we hear your opinion rather than your son's?"

Interestingly enough, Zenin Naobito had been silent throughout the entire ordeal as though it wasn't his title being discussed. The elderly man did not speak for several seconds, until:

"By all means, Your Majesty, I can not argue with your reasoning. So be it, reinstate the boy." 

"Father!"

"Silence, Naoya. You weren't guaranteed the title to begin with."

(Y/N) fought to withhold her laughter. What an appropriate humbling that was for the arrogant duke. 

"Perfect." An amiable grin had reappeared on Satoru's lips. He directed his attention to Megumi once again. "And the Grand Duke? Do you accept this arrangement?"

There was a pause during which Megumi contemplated. 

He certainly didn't want to accept it. As his estranged cousin had said, he had no ties to the Zenin house. Frankly, he'd prefer to have one less affair to worry about. Having to reign over a grand dukedom at the ripe age of 20 was already whittling away at his health. Given the choice, he would've preferred to reject the proposal altogether.

But there was only one clear answer.

His Majesty may have been benevolent in creating the illusion that he had options, but Megumi understood that there were matters involved in this deal that benefitted their faction in the grander scheme of things. If he wanted to stay in the king's good graces, he could not refuse this.

"I accept, Your Majesty."

Happy with the turnout of events, Satoru once again readjusted his position. Megumi studied the poise and confidence Gojo Satoru seemed to be composed of; everything that the princess sitting beside him did not have. As much as she may try to convince the rest of the room, he could see her awkward stiffness atop her throne. 

Poor girl must be scared witless.

He didn't know whether it was gratitude he felt for her intervention earlier though he did know that he found her antics reckless. If she had been unable to stand her ground, she shouldn't have spoken. All she did was provide her opponent with ammunition to be used against her. 

Megumi had to banish his critiques; she had just helped him, was it so hard to feel even just the slightest appreciation for her?

His gaze darted to the princess's guard. 

Itadori Yuuji.

Megumi remembered him. However, behind the stoic mask the knight wore, the Grand Duke couldn't be sure if the recognition was mutual.

"For the second order of business today, I'd like to grant the Grand Duke the princess's hand in marriage." The declaration tore Megumi away from his internal thoughts. His attention snapped upwards, his expression having morphed into one of disbelief. 

His voice sounded strangled when he spoke: "What?"

This wasn't what we agreed to.

Was this another political ploy that Satoru was playing at? If the king's concern was Megumi's growing influence, he was willing to assuage him that he had no intentions of coveting the crown. To utilize his only sister's freedom for political gain was preposterous, for lack of a better word. Besides, what good does marriage to someone like him do for the Gojo clan?

The renewed murmuring of the councilmen told Megumi that they shared the same confusion as him.

He directed his bewildered gaze to the princess once again, waiting for her to object. To throw a fit. To do anything. He wished to provoke some kind of reaction. 

She just sat there with a downturned frown, her hands tightly clutching the skirt of her gown. Even from where he stood, the whites of her knuckles were visible. There was clear unhappiness and reluctance, yet she chose to keep silent.

As if she had already resigned to her fate. 

"My sister is the most eligible bachelorette in the kingdom, Fushiguro! Unless you mean to tell me that you have other prospective marriage partners?"

Megumi clenched his teeth. He'd played right into the sly fox's hands; Satoru knew better than anyone that Megumi had no intentions of marrying to begin with. His hands and ledger were red with the blood of those he'd killed, his work consistently put him in peril. Marriage to him would never benefit the princess in any way. Forcing her will only result in misery, and as he observed her, he found himself unwilling to condemn her to such a future. 

So then why couldn't he bring himself to verbally reason with the king? 

"Well, Your Grace?"

"...Only if the princess herself agrees to this arrangement." Megumi was disappointed at how easily he relented, yet he was unable to conjure a proper refusal.

The king turned in his throne to regard his sister, his head cocked in question. "(Y/N). What do you say?"

When the princess shifted her attention from Satoru to Megumi, he couldn't find the courage to look at her. And so he lowered his gaze, a hand firmly clasped around the hilt of the sword hanging at his hip. The buzzing conversations had died down again and Megumi found himself missing the commotion. The silence was making his head spin. 

"...Very well then. I agree." Her answer was soft, defeated. The previous edge and assertiveness she'd defended him with had disappeared from her tone; it made Megumi wonder if he'd imagined it. No objections flared from the audience this time; no soul dared to interfere. But from the way the princess's words hung in the air, no one was particularly keen on the turnout of events. Without a doubt, there were counts and barons and marquesses present who had been vying for their own son to marry the princess.

They must be furious that their plans had been snuffed for the barely legitimate Grand Duke. 

Satoru appeared to be the only individual present who was elated. "With these matters settled, we can expect the celebratory banquet and the actual wedding within the next two weeks. I believe we are finished here then. You are all dismissed."

Megumi had only just turned on his heel to leave when (Y/N)'s voice halted him in his tracks.

"Your Grace! I hope that we are able to meet privately before then so that we can...make sense of everything." 

He spared her a glance. The princess had made her way down the pedestal, and the close distance caught him off guard.

Even the blindfold couldn't hide the celestial likeness of the princess. That much was evident. 

But Megumi wouldn't allow himself to be won over by beauty. He had no idea what kind of person she was and, as someone who detested social gatherings, he couldn't even have had the chance to learn the basics. It would be rude, however, to leave without a response. 

He was scrambling to remember the social etiquette his governess had taught him. 

Oh, what the hell.

At a loss, Megumi settled for what he figured was the next best option: he gently grabbed one of the princess's hands and laid a kiss on the back of it. Although, calling it a kiss was generous: his lips had barely grazed her skin. 

"I'll be expecting to hear from you soon then, Your Highness."

Chapter Text

That following night, Yuuji couldn't bring himself to sleep in the princess's bed.

Because now, her identity was no longer just the princess, but also the grand duke's soon-to-be fiancee. 

He'd diligently followed her into her chamber as always, yet, as he watched her preparing herself for bed, his presence in the room felt odd. As a result, he now lingered at the door, contemplating whether he should keep guard outside. Last night, Yuuji had promised that nothing would change between the two of them. He'd been too naive. Though he understood that the princess had no say in the marriage, there was a painful ache that gnawed at his heart. It felt as if his heartstrings were being torn apart and then set aflame. It had bothered him since seeing the grand duke step into the throne room. The king may have confided in him what the meeting entailed for Her Highness but not who it involved.

That feeling of betrayal and distress Yuuji experienced seeing his friend step through that door was agonizing. 

"Pray tell, what is going on in that head of yours right now that you look so grim?" (Y/N) had turned in her seat before her vanity, hairbrush in one hand as she peered curiously at her knight. One brow was raised curiously as she assessed him. "Perhaps you're doubling down on what you promised me last night."

It was written all over his face: he may have mastered wearing a facade on the line of duty, but for (Y/N) he might as well have been an open window by how easily she was able to read him.

"...Is it that obvious?" He asked, cracking half of a smile out of embarrassment. 

The princess huffed in response, setting down her brush with a solid clack. "Yuuji, I know very well that there is no other person in this kingdom with a stronger sense of self-sacrifice and justice."

"Are you insulting me or complimenting me right now?"

"Neither. It is simply an observation." She returned his smile, and Yuuji could see it again: that look of being overcome by adversity. He felt ashamed to admit it but it put him at ease to know she was no happier than he was. 

He stiffened when she stood from her seat, her nightgown billowing around her knees as she made a beeline to where he stood. Like a trapped mouse, he immediately side-stepped her to find an escape route. He didn't realize that she had pressed him to the bed until the back of his knee hit the mattress. Taken aback, he fell onto it in a seated position. When (Y/N) came to a halt standing between his legs, a flustered Yuuji found a sudden interest in the ceiling decorations.

She had him cornered.

"But Yuuji, I have this fear that one day I'll lose you to that self-sacrifice. You have no regard for your safety or your own needs. It worries me knowing how ready you are  to surrender yourself or your wants for the sake of other people."

He grimaced at her words, unable to dispute the truth in them. "(Y/N), that's my-"

"Job. I know. But sometimes, there's no harm in allowing yourself to be a little selfish. Sometimes," her voice grew hushed and Yuuji felt her hands cupping his head, guiding his gaze to meet hers, "I wish you would consider what you want. I wish that sometimes, you'd learn to put yourself before others. We don't all have to be heroes, Yuuji. We are all humans with thoughts and feelings and you are your own person.”

The way she had him pinned under her gaze was tantalizing, to say the least. However, Yuuji was unsure if he was more entranced by that or (Y/N)'s entire demeanor. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him; what he wanted hardly compared to what the king wanted. 

What happens if the two learn to love each other? But then was what Yuuji felt for (Y/N) love or some blurred version of dependency?

"There's a peculiar little superstition that I recently learned of." (Y/N)'s hands were now softly combing through his hair. Her touch was gentle, as though her entire world was within her grasp.

Yuuji leaned into her touch unconsciously. "What is it?”

"Well, they say that humans are born from stars and return to the stars when they die. But, those that have lacked something in their previous life are reborn with the chance to experience it in their next."

It was certainly an interesting superstition, but Yuuji didn't comment on that. Instead, he chose to be sensible: "Would you want to be reborn then?"

His heart thudded loudly as he watched a smile grace (Y/N)'s lips. 

"I'm not sure. Would the gods believe me to be lacking anything in this life?" She paused, before continuing, "Though I'd want for you to be reborn. Maybe, in another life, you'd be the one being protected, and not the protector." Another pause. "Maybe I'll be your protector in the next life."

Yuuji saw the genuine belief sparkling in her eyes, and he couldn't help stifling a laugh. It soothed his nerves and his thoughts; his mind had been running rampant all day and it was only now that Yuuji realized it. The idea that in another life she'd still want to be beside him was more reassurance than he could ever ask for.

At his reaction, (Y/N)'s eyes widened incredulously.

"I mean it!"

His efforts to hold in his amusement were futile as her expression only escalated his laughter. "I know that. I believe you."

"Yet, somehow, I'm not at all convinced." She sulked, squishing his face between her hands. Yuuji began to jokingly beg for forgiveness, though she suspected his sincerity as he continued to fight back fits of laughter. When his hands lightly wrapped around her wrists, (Y/N) finally stopped her mock assault. 

The trademark liveliness was back in Yuuji's eyes, and she could feel a small portion of the weight that had been crushing her slowly lift itself. He looked softer again without all the gloom clouding his features. 

"(Y/N)?" He asked, her name a soft murmur on his lips. 

Her heart squeezed at the way he called her name. "Hm?"

"May I hold you?"

How was she supposed to say no to that face and that tone?

"Of course."

His hands trailed from her wrists to her waist, pulling her into him. His every move was delicate as though she might disappear at any moment if he wasn't careful enough. He could smell the mildly sweet scent of vanilla clinging to Her Highness's clothes and skin. The warmth radiating off of her was comforting, and he wished for time to stop. 

If only time had truly stopped there. If only the world had faded away to only the two of them.

Outside the window, the moon had undergone its first stage of waning. The sky was clear, and the constellations amongst it twinkled like eyes. 

Chapter Text

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

No matter how comfortable the cushions beneath her were designed to be, (Y/N) felt like she was sitting on needles. The continuous ticking of a clock somewhere in the tea room was driving her up the walls. 

"Stars above, someone take that damned thing apart." She grumbled as she set her cup down, the tea in it barely touched. From behind her, Yuuji nervously eyed the grandfather clock standing near the windows. Did Her Highness mean that literally? Should he? His Majesty would be beyond inconsolable if his antiques were dismantled. 

They were awaiting the arrival of the Grand Duke. Over the week, (Y/N) had written multiple letters asking to meet with him. As expected, they were almost all rejected with the exception of her most recent one. It would appear that Fushiguro Megumi did not take their betrothal seriously, but if she were to wed a stranger, she was keen on at least having more than just one impression of him.

Nonchalance may be his forte but persistence was hers.

Had it not been for her threat of sending Satoru's personal entourage to collect him, she figured she wouldn't have seen the Grand Duke until the day of the celebratory banquet-if he cared enough to attend. 

"Yuuji, how would you describe Fushiguro Megumi as an individual?" She'd wanted to ask what he looked like, as she still had yet to have the privilege of seeing the man face-to-face without her blindfold. She wouldn't have the opportunity today either as she had the veil over her eyes once again.

If he insisted on having a cold personality, she prayed that he'd at least look like a warm person. 

But she didn't want to give the impression of being shallow by inquiring about a person's appearance, so this was the only acceptable method in her mind.

"What kind of person is Fushiguro? Hm..." Yuuji's voice trailed off as he mused over the question; where would one begin to explain Fushiguro Megumi?

Nothing had happened that night after Yuuji asked to hold her, much to (Y/N)'s disappointment. They did end up discussing the Grand Duke, during which Yuuji had confessed his past relations with Megumi. The shock didn't last long; (Y/N) had easily put two and two together before his explanations came tumbling out. While they were both mentored by Satoru from a young age, Yuuji's experience was much less formal compared to Megumi's. It made the most sense though; Yuuji was a younger brother in Satoru's eyes, second only to his sister. As his benefactor, Megumi received more from Satoru education-wise, whereas much of Yuuji's was supplied by his own parents. For a while, their friendship remained rather casual, though Yuuji insisted he thought they were closer friends than Megumi may have. Once Megumi had been designated as Grand Duke, however, Yuuji noted that he grew even more distant. That was around the same time when Yuuji became (Y/N)'s personal guard, so he'd been rather preoccupied himself. Since then, the two have never had any contact. 

"Well, I suppose he always appears angry. I don't believe I've seen him genuinely smile before." 

"Splendid, my fiance is a grouch."

Yuuji hurried to correct himself. "Your Highness, I swear on my honor that he is a kind person. He just needs a...moral compass. When you've been raised to kill as a child, you begin to question the purpose of your role. He has no experience when it comes to understanding other people's emotions; that is why he appears apathetic."

(Y/N)'s stomach churned. On one hand, she was grateful. Behemoths were ghastly mythical creatures that threatened the safety of everyone in the kingdom. They were the embodiment of disaster in the body of a demon, wreaking havoc wherever they landed. Without the soldiers under Megumi's command, the kingdom would be facing consistent invasions. She appreciated the Grand Duke's dedication to his work, no matter his motivations. On the other hand, it was concerning that the only gossip surrounding Megumi was his supposed cold-blooded character. Ironically, the same citizens that he risked his life every day to protect were the ones sullying his name: they tacked on to him the image of a ruthless killer who did not discriminate monsters from mankind. They complained that there was no humanity in the Grand Duke, who's only ever known violence since being brought into existence. 

Where was she supposed to draw the line? Where did the truth end and the lies begin? 

She trusted Yuuji's intuition, however. He's always been a fair person when it came to judging people. And, (Y/N) reasoned, had Megumi truly been malicious, Yuuji would not be defending him. 

(Y/N) threw herself against the back of the seat, arms crossed in vexation. "I don't expect him to be kind to me, just that he won't throw me to a behemoth should I get on his nerves."

"I would have no reason to do so, Your Highness. Though if I did, I am not so heartless to resort to such a method."

(Y/N) spun her head in the direction of the door, having been so engrossed in conversation and thought that she'd completely missed his long-awaited arrival. She could make out his towering figure in the doorway, his cape billowing behind him as he strode in her direction. (Y/N) could make out the color of his outfit-or more so the lack of it. He had dressed in all black once again.

Realizing her mistake, (Y/N) clamored to her feet as elegantly as she could, before dropping into a curtsy.

Her ears burned with embarrassment. No doubt they were a bright red shade right now. 

"Your Grace," she managed to choke out as she straightened, "I did not mean for my comment to come across as offensive." 

"None taken." 

It was hard to believe him from his brisk tone; he certainly sounded offended. It wasn't until after Megumi had seated himself on the couch opposite from her that (Y/N) finally sat down, raising her head in the process.

"Tea, Your Grace?" 

From this distance, she was able to make out the motion of his hand as he held it up in a sign of rejection. "No need. I don't intend to stay for long."

His lack of tact irked her. She wanted to side-eye Yuuji as if to say this was the man that he swore on his honor was kindhearted?

But she refrained from doing so as he wouldn't have been able to see her gaze regardless.

"Well, it's rather difficult to acquaint yourself with someone if you are unwilling to give them the time." (Y/N)'s tone was easygoing, but it didn't do well in disguising her dig at the Grand Duke. 

Megumi bristled at the princess's subtle yet cutting remark. As he watched a smile appear on (Y/N)'s lips, he could feel a cold sweat building on the back of his neck. Her uncanny resemblance to Satoru was throwing him off balance and even more so was her change in attitude since the last time they had spoken. Had he angered her somehow? Megumi couldn't read her at all. His eyes darted towards Yuuji, his questions sketched into his furrowed brows. 

All Yuuji could offer in response was a shrug, accompanied by an apologetic smile.

Fine. " I would argue that we have all the time in the world to get to know each other, Your Highness. I don't see a point in rushing, considering our upcoming marriage."

The princess haughtily crossed her legs, the layers of her dress rustling as she did so. "And before we are to do so, I'd like to at least have a grasp on the personality of the man I'm being married to. I'm sure you must know by now that I was kept in the dark throughout this entire ordeal."

"So I figured. You didn't come across as excited."

"I could say the same for you, Your Grace. You seem to view me as another opponent on the other side of a chessboard. I can assure you that I, by no means, aim to attain any personal political power from this marriage."

He heaved a heavy sigh. Whether it was out of exasperation or relief, even Megumi himself couldn't tell. "I must say, for a princess that purposely distanced herself from the society, you're quite well-versed."

At this, (Y/N) tilted her head in bemusement. Had that been a compliment just now? 

"Then you'd be pleased to know that much of Satoru's policies so far have seen some of my influence."

"Oh? Word on the streets claimed that the princess was too grief-stricken to take part in ruling the kingdom." By some unknown attraction, Megumi had leaned forward in his seat, his arms resting on his knees. Their exchange was piquing his interest, and the energy she was giving him only confirmed for Megumi that the assertion and boldness he'd seen from her in the throne room were indeed part of her. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to appear ruffled, though she maintained her smile. Even as it grew cold. "Surely Your Grace wouldn't believe mere rumors over what he has heard in person?"

"Not anymore, I suppose." He sat back once again, his hands clasped together in his lap. "I doubt you've summoned me here to argue with me. What is it that you wanted to discuss, Your Highness?"

At least he was sharp, (Y/N) reasoned. Both with his mind and his words, though she could see for herself that he truly wasn't malicious. Just painfully blunt and straightforward. The way he used her title was almost sarcastic like there was no weight behind those two words. 

(Y/N) wasn't sure if she enjoyed or disliked his tone, though she was leaning more toward the former. It felt as though he refused to recognize their difference in status. He was the opposite of Yuuji, who had always been wary of the distance between them. it was a new take, a refreshing one if she really had to label it.

"Truth be told, I only wanted a reason to meet with you in private." Her confession came a lot easier than she'd expected. "It may not apply to you, but I can not allow myself to marry someone I am unfamiliar with."

Megumi pondered over this for a brief moment. "Am I to assume that if you found today unpleasing, you would've convinced His Majesty to annul this betrothal?"

"Yes." Her response was instant and firm. It had never occurred to her that there was a possibility that Satoru would dismiss her; he'd never done so before and she was sure that he wouldn't. He almost always had a reason or plan for everything he did, even if he chose not to confide in her this time. She'd always chosen to trust that the decisions made by her brother were the right ones and she was choosing to do that again.

Even if it cost her a lifetime.

"Then why not ask him to do so right now? It would save both of us our time and efforts."

She couldn't argue with Megumi's way of thinking because she agreed with him. But, as she focused on her teacup sitting on the table that separated them, (Y/N) found that she could only defend her brother: "He has his reasons, and my role as the Crown Princess is to support him and learn from him."

"I see."

A silence blanketed them, during which the repetitive ticking of the clock made itself apparent once again. It made (Y/N) skin crawl, so when Megumi finally spoke again, she was beyond thankful.

"...The duchy is entering its coldest seasons soon. Be sure to pack accordingly." 

From behind her blindfold, (Y/N) blinked. Was that his way of looking out for her? The warmth she had been praying he possessed had manifested in the most unexpected way. She didn't get a chance to confirm her suspicions, however, when Megumi suddenly stood from his seat; (Y/N) promptly followed suit. 

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." 

He didn't reply, merely showing his acknowledgment to her thanks with a nod of his head. 

"Itadori." Megumi's sudden address startled the knight, who recovered fast enough to greet his old friend with a smile. 

"Fushiguro."

"I take it that you'll accompany Her Highness to the duchy?"

"Yes. His Majesty has agreed to it."

The princess in question was caught between their conversation, her attention flitting back and forth between the two as they spoke. 

Had she been paying closer attention, she would've noticed the ghost of a smile that had softened Megumi's features. 

"Well, Your Highness, I gather that this meeting has been adjourned." He'd redirected his focus onto (Y/N), who had no choice but to nod in agreement. She came to the conclusion that Megumi was the type that needed time to naturally warm up to others. There was no point in forcing him to stick around just to make painstakingly uncomfortable small talk. She hated it but she had to agree: they had more than enough time on their hands to understand each other. 

"I do hope that you plan on attending the banquet in the next couple of days." 

Megumi regarded her with a look of disbelief. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"...Because you hardly make social appearances?" She retorted, feeling rather sheepish as she did so. She'd basically admitted that she was one to believe rumors; it was even more mortifying knowing that she'd essentially berated him for doing so just moments ago.

Perhaps Megumi saw the irony in her actions because he let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "I'll be in attendance. Don't worry."

(Y/N) let loose the breath she had been holding in, somewhat glad that he had taken her second offense lightly. "Then, I'll look forward to our next meeting."

"Until then, Your Highness. Now, if you'll excuse me." 

Without so much as another word, Megumi breezed past her and out the ornate doors. He didn't even so much as spare a second look before disappearing down the corridor. 

Unbelievably drained, (Y/N) sank back onto the couch, prying her blindfold from her eyes. She could see the concern in Yuuji as he peered down at her, but she didn't want to address it. 

The banquet was in three days. 

The wedding was in four.

Their meeting had barely taken thirty minutes.

And Fushiguro Megumi was still nothing more than a stranger to her.

Chapter Text

The castle was seldom as hectic as it was the day of the banquet. The last time that (Y/N) could remember the castle staff as frenzied as today must've been the day of Satoru's coronation. 

But in her memory, that day had been less lively and vibrant. It had been on the heels of their parents' funeral and months-long mourning period, during which the castle had been devoid of color and sunshine. The coronation had felt less of a celebration and more of a second funeral.

Today, high spirits ran rampant. In every corridor that (Y/N) had passed by, laughter and joy could be heard ringing throughout. Even the servants seemed to be content with their jobs today; the amount of smiles she'd caught sight of was mind-boggling. They seemed eager to open her home to the public, to have a genuine reason to mask the loneliness clinging to the castle walls. 

So why wasn't she as excited as the rest of them? Today was meant to celebrate her, yet she was struggling to be enthusiastic. More than one type of pressure weighed on her today: she was essentially re-debuting into high society after years of being unseen in public, so she needed to play her part as the Crown Princess well. All eyes would be on her tonight unless, by some miracle, she was able to sneak away from the keen eyes of the other nobles. 

The feeling of her ribs being constricted reminded her of all those excruciating fittings she'd escaped by not attending social gatherings. 

"Lady Kaori," (Y/N) managed, face contorted in pain, "I can't breathe."

From behind her, Itadori Kaori peeked her head to the side, meeting the princess's unshielded eyes in the floor-length mirror set before her. (Y/N) mustered a smile, though her discomfort was visible. The corset was digging into her skin and under it, her bones bearing the majority of the brute force. 

"Oh goodness, my dear. I am so sorry. Here, let's try this." The middle-aged governess disappeared behind the princess again, and she was able to breathe once again as the laces loosened the garment around her torso. (Y/N) felt guilty for voicing her complaints, but she knew Kaori would've rather she'd spoken up than suffer in silence.

Since the princess had been able to, she'd always dressed on her own. It was especially prevalent following her parents' assassination, during which she had felt too anxious about being blatantly vulnerable around others. How unheard of, her mother used to say. That's what the servants are for, you doltish child, would sometimes follow.

The queen may have been dead for a decade by now, but her voice never left (Y/N)'s memory. She could still recall how nasal her mother's tone was and how she'd almost always sneered whenever she spoke. 

Her outfits had always been simple and light up until this point. Because she had the freedom to, (Y/N) had always opted to forego the nitty-gritty accessories. She hated that corsets and garters suffocated her but enjoyed the confidence that a well-crafted dress gave her. She hated the feeling of layers weighing her down but respected the diligence and creativity of the dressmakers.

Her dress for the night was beyond beautiful; it was divine. It was less of a traditional ball gown and more of what the high society ladies considered "elevated" fashion. Specifically tailored to her measurements, the dress itself gave the illusion of being molded onto her body by how perfectly it hugged her figure. The ruffled layers of the skirt led asymmetrically down one side starting from the waist, each layer accented with white lace along the hem until it pooled onto the ground, hiding her currently bare feet. The accents were cleverly designed to mimic swirls of stars against the fabric, which had been stained a deep and rich violet color. Flecks of crushed seashells gave the gown an iridescent glimmer. There were no sleeves, the sweetheart neckline dipping just enough that it wasn't overly risque. Staying true to the white accents, the back of the dress featured ribbons that crisscrossed in a simple pattern down the corset. 

It was clear that whoever created this piece loved their craft.

(Y/N) couldn't recall if she'd chosen the color scheme; she was sure that she and Kaori had picked the design only. It made her wonder if Satoru had managed to find her dressmaker; the palette echoed her image so vividly that it couldn't have been a coincidence. 

"Now, I understand why you're here, my lady," (Y/N) began, her hands clenching the sides of the mirrors as Kaori started tugging on the corset ribbons once again, "but what are the two of them here for?"

By "them", (Y/N) was referring to the father and son that were currently lounging on her couches. Yuuji and his father Jin appeared to be absorbed in an intense game of chess, a comedically focused expression perfectly replicated from one to the other. Kaori's genes had been lost in Yuuji completely: if it were not for the evident difference in age and build, Yuuji would've been the spitting image of his father. The former captain of the guard had never been as bulky as his son, even in his prime. But as he grew older, he seemed to diminish in stature year after year. It was no surprise that Yuuji had long since surpassed his father in strength.

It was alarming watching his parents grow old alongside them.

Kaori laughed at (Y/N)'s question, a gentle and calming sound. Lightly, she set her hands on (Y/N)'s shoulders, meeting the princess's gaze in the mirror with a grin.

"Well, you know how Yuuji is. I couldn't convince Jin to keep out either. Once the two of you depart tomorrow, we figured it would be quite a while before our next meeting. We wanted to make the most out of these remaining two days." 

(Y/N) had a hard time swallowing the growing knot in her throat. How had it been possible those completely unrelated to her were able to love her more than her own parents had ever? How was it that they were able to treat her as their own daughter when her own parents had forgotten to? 

"The duchy isn't all that far. I'll try to convince the Grand Duke to make the trip as often as possible. It's only a day's worth of travel by carriage." She was joking, but at the same time completely serious. 

Her governess knew her all too well as she spun the princess around to cup (Y/N)'s face in her hands. "Don't be silly. We can also find a time to come visit the two of you." Kaori's voice softened as she continued: "Try to be cordial with the Grand Duke. He's had a rough upbringing himself, you have to learn to understand him."

(Y/N) pouted in protest, a rare expression that she'd only ever shown around the Itadori's. "He makes it awfully hard to understand him when he insists on pushing people away."

For a moment, Kaori only stared at her with a sad smile. As if waiting for her to come to the realization herself that she too at one point had pushed everyone away. (Y/N) felt the lecture more so than heard it, and it showed in the blush that colored her ears. Not wanting her to dwell on her wrongs, Kaori spun (Y/N) back to face the mirror without a warning.

"Well! I believe, my dear, that you are ready for your second debut into high society." Kaori, with admiration written all over her face, sighed wistfully as she rested her head in one hand. "You've grown to be such a stunning young lady, Your Highness. I'm glad."

Kaori may have seen a young adult in the mirror, but all (Y/N) could see was a scarred child playing a game of masquerade. The makeup felt unnatural on her face, her hair weighed heavily in the elegant curls Kaori had styled it, and her upper body was aching from the corset already. 

Was this who she should've been all along? She hardly recognized the girl staring back at her, even if it were her own reflection. Her hand fluttered to the dainty necklace that she wore, its violet agate core gleaming amongst the layers of silver chains.

No, (Y/N) thought as she squeezed her fist around the necklace, that's not me.

She was (Y/N) but in the mirror right now was Gojo (Y/N). She had a role to play today and she needed it to be her best performance yet.

At least until the actual wedding tomorrow.

From the couch, Yuuji had only briefly raised his eyes from the chessboard to check the ladies' progress, only to find himself absolutely entranced as he did a double take. From the deepest parts of his heart, something stirred. 

She was breathtaking. 

Yes, in his eyes, (Y/N) was, and will continue to be, perfect. But there was a sense of regality to her tonight; a completely different presence that he'd never seen before. It wasn't the attire or the makeup. It was the determination etched into her gaze, which he was able to see in the mirror from the angle he was sitting at.

For the first time since their marriage had been announced, Yuuji felt envious of Megumi. 

"Aw, come on son. Focus back in...?" Across from him, Jin also directed his gaze away from the chessboard and followed in the direction that Yuuji was gawking in. His voice had trailed off into silence when (Y/N) turned away from her reflection to face them. 

He was about to cry. Here was the princess they'd singlehandedly raised and the future grand duchess. Jin didn't know whether to be overjoyed or devastated.

(Y/N) broke the stillness with an awkward smile and joke: "Am I to take your reactions as a sign that I need to change?"

"No!" Both the Itadori men were on their feet in firm objection, with Yuuji hurriedly scurrying in her direction with his father in tow. (Y/N) watched Yuuji's eyes roam over her, drinking in the very sight of her. When their eyes finally met, (Y/N)'s heart twisted in pain at the unmistakable yearning in Yuuji's gaze. The reality must've finally settled in and (Y/N) couldn't blame him for being in denial up until then.

"My wife really does have an eye for fashion," Jin mused, as he regarded (Y/N) with an ear-to-ear smile, "You look magnificent, Your Highness."

His energy always seemed to raise the morale of those around him and (Y/N) was thoroughly affected by it when she returned his smile. "Of course she does. I couldn't have asked for a better governess."

The lady of their praises could only hide her chuckles behind her hands. "Let's give them a moment on their own, Jin." Before he could protest, Kaori had begun to usher her husband out of the room, leaving the two childhood friends with only a knowing look. (Y/N) watched the doors click shut but Yuuji's eyes never wandered from her. When she turned her attention back to her knight, a defeated half smile tugged at one corner of his lips. 

"Is it bad that I almost want to fight Fushiguro knowing that he gets to marry you?"

His confession came as a surprise and (Y/N) was genuinely taken aback by it. For the briefest of moments, she'd stared at him in astonishment as his words took their time to sink in. Yuuji was almost worried that he'd finally said the wrong thing, and was preparing to retract his declaration, when (Y/N) burst into laughter. The sound of her laughs relieved the tension in his shoulders. Her reaction confirmed a worry he hadn't even been aware he had: she was still (Y/N), that much was clear. No amount of packaging was going to change who she was beneath the garments and accessories.

"Yuuji, your mother would hate that. You'd never hear the end of it for the rest of your life."

"I know."

"Is this you being jealous right now?" (Y/N) teased gently, leaning over the grab ahold of his hands in hers. His grasp immediately tightened as soon as their fingers intertwined; he was afraid she'd slip through his hands like sand in an hourglass. In a way, she already was.

"Would it be wrong to say it is?" His tone was low. Like he was scared to know the answer to his question. 

(Y/N) could hear the beat of his heart as he waited for her answer, his eyes flitting from hers to her lips. 

"No," she whispered back as she drew closer, testing the distance between them, "it wouldn't."

To her surprise, Yuuji didn't back away. 

He wanted to kiss her. He really wanted to. And today would be the last opportunity he'd ever have to do so. She'd told him before that it was alright to be selfish, that she wished he was more selfish. 

Would he be a wicked man by taking this opportunity for his own selfish gain?

But then that wave of guilt crashed down on him once again, and Yuuji had to banish his desires, pure and impure. It seemed to wash away some of his previous impulses, but it did nothing for the shame that threatened to devour him. He cleared his throat loudly, turning away in a desperate attempt to change the conversation. 

He willed himself not to think about the evident disappointment in the way the princess pursed her lips. As his gaze swept over the room, desperate for a distraction, his attention caught on a box sitting on the floor near one of the couches. 

"You don't have your shoes on right now, do you?"

Eyes narrowed in his evident attempt to hide his feelings once again, (Y/N) grumbled, "No, I don't."

Without putting up a fight, (Y/N) allowed Yuuji to lead her to the couch, obediently taking a seat when he motioned for her to sit down. She wanted to stay annoyed, but as Yuuji knelt on one knee before her while his hands rummaged through the shoe box, she found that she didn't have it in her to stay frustrated. 

"Yuuji, I can put them on myself."

"I doubt it. You look lovely, but that corset looks like it will not bend." 

He wasn't wrong; it wouldn't let her.

"Yuuji," (Y/N) once again interjected, but he shook his head. 

"Take this chance to be comfortable, (Y/N). You're going to be standing for a good portion of tonight."

Her nose scrunched at her lack of responses to his reasoning. So, she complied, watching as his hand disappeared beneath the layers of her dress in search of her feet. With diligent hands and steadfast motions, Yuuji was able to secure the first shoe without a hitch. Before (Y/N) could compliment him, he had already moved on to the next.

"...Are you aware that I won't be guarding you tonight?"

He didn't look up when he spoke, so when (Y/N) nodded, she quickly corrected herself: "Yes, I know."

Because it was a large-scale event, Yuuji had been appointed a post amongst the rest of the guards tonight. Rather than guarantee the safety of just the princess, the guards had to prioritize the safety of the king. (Y/N) wasn't all too worried, however. She'd be stuck with Megumi all night, and if his reputation as a swordsman meant anything, she would be unscathed no matter what. 

"Please try your best not to wander off. But if you really feel the need to, come find me first."

Shit. At times like this, (Y/N) wished Yuuji didn't know her so well. Though he was unaware, she felt as though she'd been caught red-handed already. "I know."

"Good." He straightened from his stance, and lent her his hand, helping her up from her seat. Beneath her, her feet wobbled ever so slightly as she stood; she held on to Yuuji's forearm for dear life while she stabilized herself. These were completely different shoes from the pair she'd worn two weeks prior to the audience; the heels were frighteningly thin and tall. Yuuji's brows knitted together in concern. 

"Maybe we need to reconsider the shoes."

(Y/N) eyed the clock that hung above her door, abruptly shaking her head after realizing they had little time to dawdle. "I'll grow used to them. We need to hurry. Do you mind tying my blindfold for me?"

He glanced around to find the white silk draped over the couch arm and promptly finished (Y/N)'s look for the night. As near darkness replaced her vision, (Y/N) slid her hand to find Yuuji's, nudging him as a sign to start moving.

It was truly now or never. 

Chapter Text

She'd only just made it to the ballroom entrance when the arch of her feet started to throb. (Y/N) fought to shove aside the burning sensation of her feet; there were bigger issues before her that her discomfort paled in comparison to. 

For instance, the figure leaning against the wall next to the ballroom doors, who straightened as (Y/N) and Yuuji drew nearer. No doubt the clicking of her steps had warned him of their presence from even around the corner. 

"About time, Your Highness."

(Y/N) was pleasantly surprised to see that Megumi wasn't wearing all black tonight; she could make out hints of silver accents in the epaulettes on his shoulder with the same material lining his tunic and outer jacket. He wore a cloak that covered only one shoulder, complete with a silver sash that cut diagonally across his torso.

Not a striking difference to his usual wardrobe, but a difference nonetheless.

When he extended his elbow to Yuuji, the knight reluctantly extended his in return, allowing (Y/N) to switch support easily. In all honesty, she was unwilling to leave Yuuji behind, but with some internal convincing, she latched her hand around Megumi's upper arm, tucking it in the groove of his elbow. She kept it to herself, but the toned muscles beneath her hand impressed her. Though it didn't compare to Yuuji's, she'd expected less of a composition by what she could see from his frame. 

"My apologies for the delay, Your Grace. These," she paused to reveal her shoes from beneath the hem of her skirt, "have proven to be quite the hassle."

If only she could see the reaction her actions had prompted: Megumi had gone taut when she'd reached down to lift her skirt, almost terrified at the idea that she had no difficulty exposing skin. As if her entire shoulders weren't bare in the moment. From beside her, Yuuji cocked a brow upward in amusement at his friend, who responded with a noticeably embarrassed glare. But he didn't direct his anger towards either of them, merely sighed in frustration. 

"Please refrain from such actions when we're inside." He muttered to (Y/N), leaning down at the waist so that his plea stayed between the two of them. 

(Y/N) tilted her head upwards. Even without full vision, she was able to tell how little distance he'd left between the two of them. But she didn't allow herself to be fazed, choosing to turn her attention forward. 

"Of course not. I know better than that." She made sure that her reassurance came across as collected, hidden behind a demure smile. (Y/N) slowly allowed herself to step into the character she'd been carefully crafting for the past week in preparation for tonight. She'd mimicked Satoru's mannerisms for the night; there was no other model she could think of that mirrored as much confidence as her brother. 

Megumi huffed in response, unconvinced, but didn't press on the matter. 

"Well, I'll see the two of you inside then." Yuuji, who had to enter through a separate door, patted both of them on the back as he passed by. "Take care of her for me, Fushiguro." 

The grand duke offered a nod, and (Y/N) could only listen as the sound of Yuuji's boots faded further down the corridor. This was the first time someone other than Yuuji had escorted her anywhere, and it dug a void into her heart. He had sounded so dejected just now; she wished she'd been able to hug him before he'd left. 

But as she listened to Megumi give a single swift knock on the door, (Y/N) refocused on the task before her. 

"Don't trip." Her partner advised.

"Don't let me." She quipped back, just as Ijichi's voice rang from behind the ornate doors. The herald's announcement grew louder as light from the brightly lit ballroom spilled into the dim corridor. Through unspoken mutual understanding, both of them stepped forward through the doorway.

The brightness of the room stung her eyes even through her blindfold. The ballroom had been elaborately decorated, with multiple chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. The main door had led out to a platform, where a set of stairs then descended from the balcony down to the ground level. A floral scent wafted in their direction; (Y/N) thought of the garlands of peonies with plumerias she'd seen some maids wrap around the railings earlier in the day. Under her shoes, (Y/N) could feel the plush carpet laid out before them, her heel stabbing at the soft fabric. 

Her legs betrayed her, overtaken by the same fear that had halted her in the throne room. 

She could feel it. The buzzing energy and intent eyes. The swarms of people all gathered below them appeared as nothing more than a blob to (Y/N), yet it didn't lessen the intimidation she felt. The world was spinning on its axis and only she was stationary.

I have to do this.

"You have to do this," Megumi speaking her thoughts startled her; she had almost mistaken it as a slip of her own tongue, "You can do this."

It was fascinating how he'd offered an identical encouragement as Yuuji once did. 

"Come on. I'll be right here." He was trying to be kind, that much was obvious, but it failed to have the effect he desired. She was aware that he was encouraging her out of necessity, not because he cared about her. Instead, (Y/N) lasered in on the underlying pity in his voice, and it reignited the fight within her. It reminded her of how the rest of these attendees viewed her; it reminded her of her goal for tonight. 

Megumi took a step forward, and when her choices were to either be left behind or follow along, (Y/N) chose the latter. She'd picked up her foot off the ground, staying in step beside the Grand Duke as they prepared to descend. Unable to see where one step ended and the next began, (Y/N) could only tighten her grip on Megumi's arm as the other kept her from stepping on her skirt. 

Bits and pieces of the nobles' hushed conversations made their way to (Y/N)'s ear as they made their way down the staircase. 

"My, my. Now that's a beauty."

"What a shame that they've covered her eyes."

"They make quite the fitting couple."

Her smile faltered ever so slightly at their gossip. Their compliments didn't reach her heart. They were insincere and patronizing, as though all her worth as a princess was decided by her appearance.

Such was the structure of high society.

Across from the bottom of the stairs, at the opposite end of the wall atop his throne on an elevated stage, sat Gojo Satoru, decked out in his ceremonial best. The crowd parted like waves as she and Megumi advanced, both of them dropping into a bow when they reached Satoru.

(Y/N) wondered what kind of expression her brother wore. Had he heard the same floating dialogues as she had? She wondered, did they strike the same nerve in him as it did in her?

Satoru was beckoning for them to join him, gesturing to the two other seats purposefully arranged for them beside him. "Come along, but don't sit just yet. We've got some greetings to address first."

Megumi and (Y/N) shared a simultaneous groan, surprising each other with how synchronized it'd been. As the hosts, they were obligated to greet the higher nobilities that were present tonight for the banquet; it was a form of acknowledging them for having taken their time to attend. But how (Y/N) was meant to recognize these nobilities by voice only would prove to be a challenge and she hoped, prayed, that Satoru had some form of strategy to combat it. 

As if having read her mind, Satoru patted her on the shoulder. It was his hint to her, to put her mind at ease. 

Leave it to me. 

Having released her hand from Megumi's arms, she returned Satoru's pat on his hand, appreciation outweighing her turmoil of emotions.

Thank you.

The greetings took what felt like a lifetime and the line appeared to be never-ending; had there always been so many noble houses in their kingdom? 

Satoru had cleverly restricted the guests' routes onto the stage, forcing them to greet him first so that (Y/N)-and consequently Megumi after her-would be able to appropriately address them. 

She would've been less on edge had Megumi shown more effort though; while she had been trying her best to engage in conversation with each guest that greeted them and offered their blessings for their marriage, he would only pitch in a phrase or two. 

And he'd repeat them for each guest. Every single one.

Towards the end, (Y/N) was a hair's breadth away from stomping her heels into his feet. She felt bad knowing that Lady Kaori had trusted her to get along with Megumi, but where was she meant to start with this stick-in-the-mud?

During the pause between the previous and the next guest, and thankfully their last one, (Y/N) forcefully tugged on her fiance's arm, pulling him down so that his head aligned with hers.

From behind gritted teeth, she hissed her disapproval: "Why have you been so tense?  They're not here to kill you, this isn't a battlefield." 

"I hate this." He hissed back. "I would rather be on a battlefield." 

Not for the first time tonight, (Y/N) wished she wasn't wearing her blindfold so that he'd be able to fully appreciate the disbelief in her gaze. This was far out of his comfort zone, that much was painfully obvious. And, she did feel empathetic for him because, truthfully, this was out of her comfort zone as well. Figuratively and literally, she thought as she winced, the back of her shoes cutting into the back of her ankle. There was no doubt that the skin there had been rubbed raw. 

She didn't have a chance to argue back, however, when a familiarly grating voice rang out from next to them.

"I extend my blessings, Your Majesty. Your Highness." The man paused, before he snarled out, "Your Grace."

Zenin Naoya.

Instantly, (Y/N) had released Megumi from her grasp so that he could straighten his posture. For the sake of appearances, she gave Naoya a shallow curtsy. "Thank you, Duke Zenin. We greatly appreciate that you were able to grace us with your presence tonight."

She made sure that her words were pointed and that her true meaning wouldn't go unnoticed. It appeared to do too well of a job when the duke took a step forward, and she could sense that the distance between them was too little to be proper. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, but she didn't waver under his intimidation this time, forcing her smile to remain pasted on her face.

"Why, Duke Zenin, I must suggest taking a step back before my fiance deems your actions inappropriate."

She heard him scoff and was thoroughly disgusted when he leaned down to tower over her. Besides her, she heard Satoru shift in response; she stopped him with an outstretched hand. (Y/N) wanted to hear what admonishments he had to unleash upon her.

"Under different circumstances, you would've been my bride. Be grateful that my father has handsomely negotiated me out of violence tonight, or else this brat wouldn't be alive."

"Negotiated you out of violence? Duke Zenin, if my memory serves me right, you are not much younger than my brother. The very idea that you need to be bribed out of causing trouble is certainly...amusing."

She could've sworn she heard a stifled laugh from Megumi. Or perhaps that was Satoru? When Naoya failed to retaliate, (Y/N) continued her attack: "I fear that you were wrong. Even under different circumstances, I would not have been your bride. Or anyone's, for that matter. Nonetheless, thank you for your blessings."

As if to emphasize how little his spiteful words meant to her, (Y/N) pushed her smile into a grin, her head tilted to the side in mock innocence. Naoya seemed to have understood her dismissal as he promptly stomped away, cursing as he did so. (Y/N) swayed in her spot, her footing suddenly uneven. It was comforting when Megumi caught her around the shoulder, his touch genuinely tender for once. 

When Satoru finally spoke, he was hardly trying to hide his laughter. "Now, I've always known he was a vindictive man, but that was something else altogether."

"I believe he had it coming. Nicely said, Your Highness." 

That was definitely a compliment from Megumi this time, and (Y/N) questioned if the pressure had caused her to go mad. "Thank you."

But, unwillingly, a part of Naoya's words had stuck with her. It hadn't sounded like a lie when he brought up what would've been their marriage; he was far too angry at the loss that there must've been some truth to it.

As if right on cue, the music began to rise, inviting the guests to dance along. (Y/N) figured now was a better time than never: the guests were more or less intoxicated from their drinks and too absorbed in conversation or dance that there wouldn't be any prying ears on her conversation. So she reached out to grab her brother's hand, tugging the king along with her as she descended from the stage. 

"Wait, (Y/N)! Your first dance should be reserved for Megumi."

It was her first time hearing Satoru refer to his student by his given name before her, and she had to take a moment to process. "He won't mind."

And like she said, there were no verbal objections from the Grand Duke. So Satoru relented, though he knew fully well what was in store for him. They'd barely gotten warmed up when his sister started her interrogation. He braced himself for the barrage of questions he was about to face. 

"Duke Zenin made a very bold statement just now."

Satoru hummed in response, his gaze fixated on everybody except (Y/N). "He made quite a few actually. Which one do you mean?"

"You know exactly which one. Why is it that not one but two Zenin men have been considered for my marriage?"

There was a pause, during which Satoru grimaced, unable to form an explanation that wouldn't shatter their already precarious relationship. He'd always felt responsible for (Y/N)'s lonely childhood; he'd known how absent he'd been for the past decade when they'd been as thick as thieves before that fateful night. He'd known how much grief he'd caused her when he'd been wrestling his life from the hands of the Reaper, and the idea that he hadn't been there for her when her life had been in danger still haunted his nightmares. As her older brother, he'd done nothing for her and had devoted his time to teaching other children instead. He'd reasoned that should anything happen to him, they would protect her in his stead. He'd only taught her what he considered the fundamentals because he had no intention of putting the burden of reigning a kingdom on her shoulders. There had been times when he thought that he was doing the correct thing by prioritizing the nation, but perhaps that was merely his excuse for not having the courage to see her. Because in his eyes, (Y/N) would always be a child that he had promised and failed to protect. No matter how much older she grew, all Satoru could see was the image of a terrified child he'd neglected to adequately care for. Just like how their parents had neglected her. 

No amount of apologies would be able to restore what they'd already lost, and now that he had weaponized her for his political advances, it may be the final nail in the coffin.

"...Satoru?"

The music was swelling in pace and volume, but he was able to pick up the crack in (Y/N)'s voice as she called his name. He wished Suguru was here; Suguru would've known what to say to calm her down. 

"...I needed a way to keep the Zenin clan tamed from within. There was no plan for Naoya to marry you, ever. From the start, it was always meant to be Megumi. I needed someone that I trusted to control the Zenin's, and by connection, you would strengthen our authority."

"You mean yours. Your authority. Because I am nothing more than simply a figurehead, even to you."

The newly bitter edge to her tone jabbed at his heart so unbearably that Satoru had to refute her claims.

"You are the Crown Princess, (Y/N). You are the heir to our kingdom. But I won't be around forever to protect you, so I needed to find other ways to keep you safe."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. This time, it felt as if she had slapped him in the face with her words: "I am safe. Yuuji keeps me safe. Have you ever considered him in your plans? Have you ever stopped to think about how much agony you've put him through with this?"

Of course, he had. If there was anything else that he felt the most guilty about, it was knowing that he had denied his favorite student a chance with who he knew as his entire life and purpose. But that was the problem; (Y/N) would be nothing without Yuuji and Satoru wanted her, needed her, to be her own person. 

Love was the greatest curse ever and he needed to ensure that she could stand on her own without being hindered by it. This is why he chose Megumi, someone who knew nothing about love or how to love or be loved. 

The music and dance had slowed to a halt, and with it, so did (Y/N) and Satoru. She'd limply let his hand fall from hers as she took a step away, her head hanging in defeat.

Gojo Satoru had never felt more useless in his entire life until that moment. What was he meant to say in a situation like this? 

"Should I call Megumi down for your next dance?"

Definitely not that. 

As expected, (Y/N) shook her head at the offer. The despair sank even further into Satoru's heart. "Food! You've always liked shortcakes, I had the kitchen staff prepare them. How about it?"

"Please excuse me, Your Majesty. I require the powder room." The sudden change to formality and blatant excuse to be left alone dealt the final blow, but he had no reason to prevent her from leaving. 

He attempted a smile despite knowing that his sister was unable to detect it and even if she did, likely did not care for it. "Alright then." 

As the instrumentalists began strumming a second song, Satoru watched the figure of his sister disappear amidst the crowd. There were guards posted at every possible entrance of this room, nothing would happen on her way to the bathroom, is what he thought as he trudged his way back up to his throne.

"I'm assuming she didn't take it well?" Megumi, from his temporary throne, asked nonchalantly. As if he had predicted this outcome far in advance.

His king sighed in confirmation, folding his arms across his chest. "You didn't take it well either. I can only imagine the shock she's in right now knowing what I've planned behind her back."

"Maybe you should've included her from the start."

"Absolutely not." Satoru was quick to counter. "She wouldn't have agreed to it even then. She's been smitten with Yuuji since a young age, it would've been impossible to convince her."

There was silence from Megumi's end and Satoru took it as the conversation was over. Realistically, he was in no mood to converse anyway. 

It wasn't until an unusual number of minutes had passed that Satoru grew apprehensive. And it appeared that Megumi had noticed too. 

(Y/N) hadn't returned. 

Chapter Text

Autumn was nearing its end, and (Y/N) could feel it in the air.

The night breeze felt like thin ice on her skin as it swept by, raising the goosebumps on (Y/N)'s arms. But the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her body kept her from hugging herself. The curls that Lady Kaori had patiently pressed into her hair had unfurled themselves back into straight locks. They flowed in the wind, lightly smacking her exposed shoulders and back as they did so. She'd undone her blindfold, tossing the adornment beside her on the bench she sat upon; her shoes had received the same treatment. With clear sight for the first time that night, (Y/N) sat with her feet skimming the still-lush grass beneath her feet, her head tilted to the sky. With an absentminded raise of her arm, she brought her drink to her lips again, swigging it down without remorse. 

She had gone to the powder room as she'd said, and she had returned to the ballroom afterward, but she hadn't lingered. It was asphyxiating in there and it became even more so after clashing with her brother. Was this her making her stance known or was it more of a tantrum fit for a child? Either way, (Y/N) decided she needed to distance herself. 

So she'd snuck away quietly after swiping desserts from the tables, along with an entire bottle of rosé champagne. The guards had only bothered to ask if she needed accompaniment but didn't follow her after she denied them. It likely hadn't even occurred to them that the princess didn't plan on returning. She'd almost hoped that one of them would be Yuuji, that he'd seen her wandering away by chance, and that he'd join her little rendezvous. But it hadn't been him and he'd never disclosed where he had been stationed.

It wouldn't be long before someone came to retrieve her, and she wanted to gather her thoughts before she allowed it to happen. 

From the start, it was always meant to be Megumi.

A wave of nausea washed over her. Satoru's confession kept replaying in her mind. 

How long ago was "the start?" For how long had he been concocting this intricate scheme of his? What drove her brother, who knew better than anyone the experience of having no freedom to choose, to resort to such a method? And why, despite everything, did he decide not to involve her to begin with? Had Satoru simply asked her, or had brought it up with her even once, she would've had time to digest the proposal. There was no bigger pain to (Y/N) than his supposed white lie; surprises were better suited for well-meaning celebrations. She couldn't think of any other reason to keep this from her, except fear of her being incooperative. He must've thought of Yuuji, and how she would've never relinquished him if given the choice. 

(Y/N)'s stomach sank. 

Yuuji.

Adorable, sweet, naive Yuuji. Surely he couldn't have been aware of their actions. 

A woeful revelation finally dawned on (Y/N): she and Yuuji were doomed from the start. They were never meant to work out. There were no options for them to pick and choose; those never belonged to them to begin with. Fate was cruel in intertwining them from birth yet forcing them apart. Yuuji could continue to ask for nothing except to stay by her side, and his only repayment ever will keep being demand after demand from him. 

(Y/N) didn't know whether to be heartbroken or infuriated. 

Her eyes surveyed the area. The royal gardens had always been a favorite for the princess from a young age. From where she sat, the fountain was within eyesight, her ancestor's statue likeness standing in the very center, spouting water from his generous hands. She'd always found the humanity preserved in the statue uncanny, like the sculptor intended to incarnate the former demigod. 

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but a fuzzy memory that she'd almost forgotten about resurfaced at that moment. It had been the dead of summer: she and Yuuji had been chasing Satoru around the fountain. They'd fallen into fits of laughter when he tripped headfirst into the water, soaked to the bone when he emerged. She could almost hear their cheerful screeches as the once-teenage prince pulled them in by the collars, the cold of the water a refreshing contrast to the heat. They'd spent the afternoon wading in the water until being chased out by the groundskeeper, but even that hadn't dampened their joy.

Life had been simpler as children when their world hadn't been plagued by inevitable responsibilities and threats. 

A tear, stinging and hot, rolled down her cheek. It dripped off her chin, but (Y/N) made no advances to wipe the streak from her face. She didn't stop the next one either, or the one after it. A sharp inhale escaped her lips as her tears persisted, her vision blurring as the minutes ticked by. It wasn't long before the sobs wracked her entire body, to the point that she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging herself as her cries became muffled into her skirt. Years of pent-up emotions caved on her as she finally, finally, came to terms with what lay ahead of her. Yet, it failed to bring her any form of relief.

She thought about how she'd defended Satoru to Megumi, reasoning and speaking on his behalf. How she had defended him without realizing that Megumi had a part in it, that Megumi must've already received his end of the explanation from Satoru.

What a fool she'd made out of herself.

She'd told herself that she was willing to give up her life for Satoru's sake, but she had never imagined she'd fulfill it in such a way. She'd imagined an honorable sacrifice, not as a puppet to do his bidding. 

Her world has now been turned on its head twice. The first time, she was able to cope: she had been happy with the little things. She had been happy when Satoru set aside time meant for only her. She had been happy with Yuuji and thrived under the care of his parents. She lived life knowing that while everyone else treated her as expendable, those important to her treasured her. Because (Y/N) knew better than anyone that greed only results in eventual loss, she told herself that it was enough.

The same could not be said this time. Her brother, whom she had idolized as her greatest role model, had made it clear that he valued the state over her. Her delusions of a happy ending with her childhood love had all been decimated to naught. She was to be wed to a Grand Duke who cared not for her nor her state of mind. 

Was this what Satoru had imagined? Unhappiness and discontent under a misguided sense of protection?

It took quite some time before her sobbing began to subside into intermittent hiccups. The flames of her anger had only flared briefly before they were smothered to embers. Try as she might, she truly couldn't bring herself to hate Satoru or even Megumi. Because, somewhere in the rational parts of her mind, (Y/N) had already acknowledged the possibility that there had been no other options; this may have been their last resort. It pained her to know that, somewhere within her, there was still a part of her that wanted to trust her brother's decisions. To keep putting faith in him.

Something fluttered and settled onto her shoulders. There was a cozy warmth that radiated from it as it enveloped (Y/N), reminiscent of a hug. She stiffened. 

Yuuji?

Reluctantly, she raised her head, turning over her shoulder to find a man, elegantly dressed and looking rather miffed.

It wasn't Yuuji. There was, however, a sense of familiarity with the stranger. Even in her drunken, teary stupor, her instincts knew well enough that he wasn't there to harm her. 

"I hope this isn't a habit of yours—running off alone when things don't turn out the way you expect."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in recognition upon hearing his voice. Whatever image she had of Fushiguro Megumi in her mind certainly did not live up to reality. Her empty hand clenched at the cape he had draped around her, her eyes studying his features fervently. 

He was...ethereal. The defined features, the long lashes, the intensity in his eyes as he stared her down. Were they blue? Were they green? She couldn't tell in the waning moonlight.

They were annoyed, that was for sure. 

He was a different type of handsome from Yuuji. Whereas Yuuji emulated a bright summer sunrise with his softer features and sunny attitude, Megumi was like the night sky itself had descended from the heavens and personified itself in a human being. The mysterious broodiness that he carried with him wherever he went certainly contributed greatly to his aura.

Compared to him, she now felt out of place, all the more conscious of what she must've looked like at the moment. 

(Y/N) didn’t answer his question, but had enough sense in her to wipe the tears from her face.

How humiliating.

His eyes wandered to the crumbs of strawberry shortcake, left untouched. The nearly empty bottle of champagne that was dangerously close to slipping out of her hand. 

"...Why are you here? Why not the guards?"

Her words had tumbled out in one slurred sentence, the smell of strawberries clinging to her breath. Megumi couldn't tell if they were from her choice of desserts or the champagne, though he could tell that she was on guard. Impressive that she could handle her alcohol, but concerning that she chose to do so with no one around. 

"Why?" Megumi asked, reaching over to grab the bottle, "Were you expecting someone else?"

She didn't answer him, once again, but she did hold her bottle away from him in defiance. He didn't need to hear it from her lips. He'd seen the disappointment settle in her eyes and it was as clear as day who she had been expecting.

Yuuji had been the first person Megumi sought out and had insisted that he be brought along with a couple of guards. But His Majesty had sent him and only himself, so as not to raise unwarranted alarms. People were bound to notice the lack of an entire squad of guards over one Fushiguro Megumi who they'd treated as invisible his whole life. Megumi couldn't erase Yuuji's expression from his mind, so visibly torn between the orders he'd been given and his own thinking. It fed into the guilt eating at Megumi, knowing that his presence only threatened Yuuji's relationship with the princess. How his position threatened Yuuji's relationship with him. 

Yet, the rebellious glint in (Y/N)'s eyes was rousing something in Megumi. Just a few seconds ago, he had listened to her bawl her heart out, and now here she was, daring him to challenge her. 

"How long have you been here?" Her gaze was wandering all over his face; it made him wonder if the last couple of times they'd met, she'd never taken the time to properly study him. And perhaps she couldn't, he noted to himself, if what Gojo told me was true. For a moment, just the briefest of moments, he found himself captivated by what he could only understand as fascination projecting from those violet eyes. It made him overly aware of his entire being, though he knew better than to reason with a drunkard. 

Even with her arm outstretched, Megumi was able to fight for the bottle without much effort, gently tugging it out of her grasp. The ease with which she let up was surprising. "For a minute or two."

Her gaze finally left his face as he watched a blush color her ears.

"So you heard it all."

"Most of it."

She was so easy to read, under the influence or not. It may not have appeared as so to the princess, but those who have interacted with her before would've been able to tell that she had been hiding behind a facade all night. It had been agonizing watching her impersonate Satoru when she was nothing like him in terms of personality. There was a thorniness to her that Satoru never had, and Megumi could more or less pinpoint a couple of reasons that might've caused it. She kept her walls up high to hide her vulnerabilities, baring her claws at the slightest threat. But he had caught it before: the empathy (Y/N) felt for others. She mirrored Yuuji in an interesting way that deflected their personalities but reflected their morals. 

He had so many questions for her. But he'd prefer her sober for that conversation and he had a task at hand to finish.

"We should be heading back, Your Highness. Before the guests start questioning our absence." Or, better yet, they begin to circulate rumors based on speculations of where two young adults could've wandered off to the night before their wedding.

As stubborn as a mule, (Y/N) refused to budge even when Megumi stepped around the bench, pulling her by the forearm. Underneath the dim moonlight, he could make out her red-rimmed eyes and equally red nose. Her lips kept opening and closing as if she were searching for words that wouldn't come, and he waited with uncharacteristic patience for her to find them.

Her voice was soft when she finally spoke, nearly lost in the wind had he not been so close. "I can't go back in there looking like this." 

He'd never been one to feel sympathetic, but looking at (Y/N), his sister's voice rang in his mind. Be kind. 

He certainly didn't believe he needed to; she'd proven to be more than just resilient to his attitude; surely it wouldn't make a difference. But she looked so shaken, so shattered. It was hard not to be kinder to her when she turned out to be more delicate than he'd been aware of. 

Fine.

With an exasperated sigh, Megumi sat himself down beside (Y/N) on the bench, careful not to sit on her dress. For a bit, he fished around his pockets, which earned him a puzzled look from (Y/N), but he paid her no heed. Until his hands finally found the handkerchief he'd been looking for, and he offered it to his sniffling fiancee.

"Here. Do something about it then."

She thanked him through another string of hiccups, her cold fingers brushing against his as she accepted it from him. He grumbled incomprehensibly in response, in disbelief at her lack of body heat, but she seemed unfazed as she began dabbing at her face with the cloth. In an effort to not stare, Megumi sat with his upper body leaned forward onto his legs, supported by his propped elbows. He directed his attention to the ground, fidgeting with his hands as he waited in silence. 

"...Fushiguro."

He jerked his head to attention at the use of his family name; the dropping of formalities was unlike her. When he turned his head to meet her gaze, (Y/N) appeared a lot more levelheaded, though he could tell she was holding back her hiccups when one escaped her again. What did she want now?

"What."

"For how long did you know about the reasons behind our marriage?" 

It felt less of a question and more of a demand, like she needed to know. Megumi mulled it over, considered his options. He didn't want her to burst into tears again when she'd just calmed down, but he feared that feeding her more lies would only build the hatred she must've already harbored towards him. And, to his own surprise, the last thing he wanted was for her to hate him. 

The confession came easier than expected: "Two weeks ago. His Majesty explained it to me the day after the audience." He stopped, unsure if he should add anything else. When (Y/N) remained silent, Megumi felt the words escaping him before he could contain them: "I'm sorry about our situation. I know how you and Yuuji feel about each other."

He slammed his mouth shut the second his words registered. And then cringed. There were some things better off left unspoken. 

The corners of the princess's lips turned upward into a rueful smile. "And how might you interpret those feelings?"

Her question confused him. Why, everybody could see it in the way they acted around each other. Was she testing him?

"...Are you guys not lovers?"

His confusion turned into alarm when her smile quivered as if preparing to cry once again. But before he could even begin to make amends, she had already broken eye contact, choosing instead to stare at her feet.

"It's...it's hard to be something that never was." Her words were followed by a sigh, one that seemed to bear the weight of the world. Megumi watched as she hugged her legs closer to herself, nearly disappearing under his cape so that only her sad eyes were visible.

"I don't doubt how he feels for me. But I know his devotion to his post, and I know that he's unable to look past it. It makes me think about how things might've been in different scenarios. If he hadn't been my knight, would he still feel the same way?" She leaned her head into her arms, never once meeting Megumi's eyes. "If we had been born under different circumstances, would we still have found each other?"

He was unable to find a response. Megumi had never been one for sentiments, but it felt wrong if he were to leave her to monologue, given that she'd finally lowered her guard with him. From the way she asked those questions, they must've been ones she'd frequently considered before. 

All those times avoiding social interactions were coming back to bite him; he had not even the slightest idea where to begin comforting her. 

"I have reason to believe,” Megumi started tentatively, “that Itadori feels the way he does because it's you, and not because of his duty. He’s only dedicated to his job because you matter to him. That's just the type of person he is.”

For several seconds, neither of them spoke but neither of them looked away. As much as he wanted to shift his gaze away, it felt as though he’d been ensnared in a trap.

“Do I matter to you?” 

He blinked at her in silent confusion. How was he meant to answer that?

"I suppose you do now."

"Because it's part of your job now to take care of me?" 

He really didn't want to answer that one. But if he didn't, he risked the possibility of her misinterpreting his silence. Finally able to tear his gaze away, Megumi frowned toward the fountain as he fought an internal debate with himself. All the while, (Y/N) was waiting for him, her eyelids drooping dangerously. All that champagne was finally showing its effect, and in (Y/N)'s case, drowsiness was the clearest sign of inebriation. 

"Because...you're compassionate, and only good people matter to me. Life has been unfair to you even now, I don't want to be another addition to your misfortunes." He'd ended up blabbing sappy nonsense again; Megumi made a mental note not to sit through another of his sister's lectures ever again.

When he was met with silence, Megumi spared a glance at the princess, only to freeze in place when he felt her entire body weight shift against him. Still curled up, (Y/N) had keeled over, her head pressed against his arm.

His brow twitched in vexation. Had she just fallen asleep mid-conversation? When he'd just spouted what might've been the most sincere thing he'd ever said to a girl besides his own sister? Borderline flabbergasted, Megumi peered closer at (Y/N), lightly nudging her to provoke any kind of reaction. The quiet snoring, combined with the lack of resistance in the way she flopped back against his arm, was more than enough confirmation that she was out cold. There was not a single survival instinct in sight; did she not see him as a man? 

In the distance behind them, the chattering and sounds of the guests departing the ballroom carried their way to Megumi's ears. It would appear that the banquet had concluded, though whether that was a positive could be contested. 

After all, he now had to find a way to transport a sleeping princess.

Without appearing suspicious. 

Chapter Text

Megumi hoped that nobody would stop to question the deadweight he carried in his arms; the deadweight being the princess herself.

For the sake of his pride, he was beyond thankful that (Y/N) hadn't been conscious to witness his struggle to pick her up from the bench. All those years of lugging around a sword were no match for the princess's unwillingness to move, even in her sleep.

Or perhaps he needed to improve his strength. If that was the case, his knights were about to have the time of their lives calling their commander a hypocrite. Somehow, he'd fallen behind on a training regimen he'd outlined himself.  

It was the latter, Megumi decided, as he finally scooped (Y/N) up, one arm supporting her upper body and the other under the groove of her knees. Her head lolled before he could tuck it into the nook between his neck and shoulders. The layers of fabric in her dress proved to make the position difficult, however, and Megumi cursed softly under his breath as his grip on her legs nearly slipped. Her shoes and blindfold were nestled against her torso, seeing that he had no other hands that were free. He'd made sure to secure his cape around her shoulders, protecting her from the rapidly decreasing temperatures and protecting him from the temptation to stare down her neckline.

Up close and personal, Megumi reveled in how peaceful (Y/N) appeared as she slept. No out-of-the-blue questions, no snappy remarks, no attempts at being intimidating. She was entirely harmless and at her weakest; how and why she'd let down her guard that easily was beyond him.

The idea that he was marrying her the very next morning was equally unfathomable. 

It wasn't until they reached the entrance leading back into the palace that Megumi realized he had no idea where (Y/N)'s chambers were located. It wouldn't be proper to wander either, given that he was still considered a guest in the palace.

Should I just wake her up and have her walk herself? 

But (Y/N) hadn't woken earlier from all the jostling when he'd been figuring out the best way to carry her. If that implied anything, it was that no amount of prodding and nudging would be able to wake her. It left him with the only option to explore a little. 

Luckily, because the gardens were located at the back of the palace grounds, there was not another soul present in the corridor. It was dimly lit by torches, the amber glow from the torchlight fighting the moonlight spilling in through the windows. The eerie lighting cast their flickering shadows upon the walls. Each step Megumi took sounded deafening.

When a second pair of steady footsteps racing towards them seemed to grow louder, Megumi instinctively grew defensive. He halted in his tracks. Out of reflex, he hugged (Y/N) closer to him, unintentionally jabbing himself in the torso with the heel of her shoe. The quick spark of pain kept him alert. 

The figure approaching sported a head of pink hair. A red cape, one that distinctively set apart one knight from the rest, billowed behind him. Instantly, Megumi felt the tension drain from his body as he realized who it was.

Itadori. 

He must've finally been dismissed from his post. 

Even from afar, Megumi could make out the concerned wrinkles in the way his friend's brows knitted together, the way his hands were balled into fists. Yuuji skidded to a stop before them, and Megumi watched his gaze rove over (Y/N). It was as if he was running through a checklist in his mind, double-checking that nothing had harmed her.

"Is she—"

"She's fine." Megumi cut him off, trying to put Yuuji's mind at ease. "She's just asleep. Probably had too much to drink."

Yuuji's hands, having unclenched themselves, were now hovering in the air near (Y/N) but never touching her. The troubled expression he wore was slowly melting off into one of relief, his features gradually smoothing over. He didn't ask his question, but Megumi answered it anyway.

"I found her in the gardens like you said."

"That's a relief," Yuuji finally cracked a smile, picking up the shoes and blindfold without being asked to, "You're as dependable as always, Fushiguro."

Faced with an unexpected compliment, Megumi had to fight both the blush threatening to creep into his face and the urge to return Yuuji's smile. He stifled it by deepening his frown, averting his eyes as he did so. 

"It's not as though I did something worth praising."

Rather than be offended by Megumi's dismissal, Yuuji laughed.

"It won't kill you to accept one compliment, you know." His tone was teasing, as lighthearted as jokes between old friends went. 

The Grand Duke made a face, not wanting to dwell on the topic any longer. To him, chasing after the princess had been no more than a responsibility of his—he'd go even as far as to say that it was a hassle. He had to convince himself that he hadn't gone out searching for her out of concern for her own being, but because he didn't want to deal with the consequences had she truly gone missing. 

Right? Was that where his motivations lay?

Megumi sighed, a tinge of weariness in his exasperation. "Where's her room? I'd imagine Her Highness would prefer an actual bed over me."

"Well, that's funny," Yuuji raised a hand to gesture in the direction they'd just come from, "because you're actually going in the wrong direction."

Great.

Never once did (Y/N) wake up, even as Megumi laid her down on her bed. As though by second nature, she had curled into a ball the second she'd left his arms, mumbling unintelligibly as she did so. Her hands were clutched tightly into fists. It made him wonder if she was fighting something in her dreams.

His shoulders celebrated through the jarring aches; nobody had prepared him for the walking required to reach her chambers. 

According to Yuuji, the princess had chosen to live in the most isolated annex part of the palace herself; being away from the main building was a wish of hers that Satoru had granted without hesitation. Megumi knew even without Yuuji's confirmation where her aversion stemmed from. He couldn't blame the princess. Had it been him, he wouldn't have wanted to continue living in the room next to where her parents had been murdered. 

Even in his own manor, he avoided his parents' former room. If they shared the same mindset, then there was no doubt that those events haunted her even without living there.

The king had also dropped by moments after they'd arrived, yet he chose not to enter the room and had left after confirming from the doorway that his sister was safe. He had said at most three sentences to both of them, his expression impassive behind his blindfold. One might've mistaken his attitude as dismissive, but both Yuuji and Megumi knew that Satoru was avoiding (Y/N) out of guilt. 

Megumi now stood to the side, leaning against one of the walls that the headboard of her bed was pushed up against. Yuuji had taken over in his stead, tucking the princess in under her blankets and adjusting the pillows beneath her head as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

But when Yuuji's hands reached towards the laces on the back of (Y/N)'s corset, Megumi's hand shot out against his wishes. Taken by surprise, Yuuji stopped abruptly, turning to shoot a questioning look at him.

Megumi's grip tightened around his arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Megumi hissed, his eyes flitting back and forth from Yuuji to (Y/N) in disbelief, "She's unconscious."

For a moment, all Yuuji could do was blink in confusion at his friend, until realization dawned on him and he threw his hands up to plead innocence.

"No! That's not—I would never try something like that!" He began hastily blubbering through an explanation. "I was just going to loosen the laces. She hates it and I don't want her waking up all sore with how the thing is crushing into her."

Oh.

Megumi's grip slackened immediately. He was ashamed: of course, the act had never so much as crossed Yuuji's mind but it had been the first accusation Megumi had thrown at him. What did that reflect about Megumi? On top of that, Yuuji had prioritized the princess's comfort thoughtfully while the gesture had never even occurred to Megumi. 

"...Sorry."

Megumi cringed as Yuuji shot him a forgiving grin. "No, don't be. It just shows that you care about her, Fushiguro."

There it was again. Why had topics like care and concern been repeatedly brought up throughout the night? It reminded him of (Y/N)'s question from the garden. It rang in his head.

Do I matter to you?

Megumi retracted his hand, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he pondered. 

If his silence unnerved Yuuji, the other male certainly didn't make it known. Instead, with swift but careful hands, he undid then redid the laces looser before fully tucking the princess in. As if sensing his presence, she'd turned over in her sleep, one hand latching onto his before he was able to move away. It stumped Yuuji and he could feel Megumi's gaze grow amused.

"Does she drink often?"

Yuuji shook his head, his eyes focused on (Y/N). Megumi noticed that he didn't pull away.

"Not at all. His Majesty dislikes alcohol, so a supply in the castle is rare to begin with. She'd only ever have the chance to drink on special occasions."

Megumi scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "You'd think the opposite with how she handled it tonight."

"We think it's some type of natural tolerance that she has." A doting smile tugged at the corners of Yuuji's lips, but it vanished as fast as it had appeared. A sad frown replaced it. "She must've been really caught up in her thoughts tonight to drink herself to sleep."

"Oh, believe me. She was." Megumi raised a brow when Yuuji regarded him with disappointment, bristling defensively. "What? I promise I was nice to her, don't give me that look."

"Fushiguro, I know that I shouldn't meddle in business between the two of you. But all I ask from you is that you be there for her."

His words didn't sit right with Megumi, who could feel his temper being stoked. "You say that as if you won't be by her side in the duchy. I have no intentions of dismissing you from your job, and the princess obviously doesn't either."

"But there will be things that I won't be able to do for her once we get to the duchy," Yuuji fired back, arguably still calmer than Megumi, "things like this." He raised their interlocked hands, a foreign gleam in his eyes that Megumi didn't recognize in Yuuji. For whatever reason, his mind jumped to the closest conclusion he could find. 

"You've slept with her?"

"Yes—What?" The double interpretation behind Megumi's question caught Yuuji off guard. Incredulity took over his expression once again.

Having realized his mistake rather quickly this time, Megumi hurriedly fixed his wording. "I'm asking if you've slept with her in the same bed."

Yuuji's relaxation was immediate and visibly noticeable as he nodded in response. "(Y/N) doesn't sleep unless she's with someone. There have been times I had stepped away but she'd be awake and waiting for me whenever I came back. It's been that way for years."

"I see."

A silence descended between the two men as Yuuji's words faded into the air. It gave Megumi time to digest what he'd just learned, and he couldn't say he was exceptionally thrilled to hear about the princess's sleeping habits. The discovery planted a seed of anxiety in Megumi's heart. There was the possibility that (Y/N) wouldn't be able to acclimate to Yuuji's absence, or even accept Megumi as his substitute. In any case, he didn't want to be Yuuji's replacement; he couldn't replicate Yuuji's attentiveness or his level of consideration. The biggest factor in their difference was rooted in their varying feelings for (Y/N), but that's not something he could fix overnight.

Even if it were possible, Megumi didn't even know where he'd begin.

The stress weighing on his mind was slowly accumulating into a headache; perhaps this was something better discussed with the princess personally. They had boundaries to set and debates to settle. It would only be fair that way.

He pushed himself off the wall, preparing to make his exit. When Yuuji attempted to stand, he motioned for the knight to remain seated. "It's late, get some sleep. We've got a lot to get through tomorrow."

"Can't argue with that," Yuuji agreed, attempting once again another smile at Megumi. But there was undeniable sadness in this one, and it made Megumi want to shrivel up. "I'll see you bright and early in the morning then."

With a final nod of his head, Megumi bid Yuuji good night. This time, he spared a look at the sleeping (Y/N) over his shoulder as he turned away.

She was smiling in her sleep, their interlocked hands held closely to her chest. There was no disputing the comfort and sanctuary that she found in Yuuji. It was the happiest Megumi had seen her all day. 

A pain, dull but unmistakable, struck Megumi's heart as the door creaked shut behind him. 

Could he ever be that person for her?

Chapter Text

The following morning, (Y/N) woke up alone to a splitting headache. 

The events from last night were all but a myriad of colors in her mind, and she had hurried to her washroom before the alcohol could make a reappearance on her floor. Her head spun violently and her throat begged for water. 

When the marble floors were no longer spitting doubles at her, the gears in (Y/N)'s brain sputtered to a start.

What had happened last night? How had she woken up in her bed? Where was Yuuji? What had she said to Megumi?

The questions were abundant with no answers to them. She tried to piece together the only things still intact in her muddled brain, bits and pieces of fragments of memories.

The taste of strawberry-filled pastries amidst her tears.

The face and voice of Fushiguro Megumi: somehow the only things that were crystal clear in her head. 

The very vivid recollection of herself leaning in his direction before her eyes closed. Do I matter to you? 

That was where the memory ended and nothing else returned to her no matter how she forced it. What happened afterward? Had she fallen asleep?

(Y/N) slapped her face with both hands, thoroughly mortified with herself.

"What have I done?" She whispered, her hands clawing through her messy bed hair. The princess fell back on her hind, clutching her head in both hands as her eyes stared into space. It was one thing to cry in Megumi's presence, but it was another to be drunk. It had been the first time she'd ever drank herself into oblivion, and this feeling of helplessness was enough to convince (Y/N) to never attempt it again. She'd been conscious for the majority of it, that much she was sure of. But without a doubt, whatever words may have escaped (Y/N) were not under her control. 

She could only pray that she hadn't been offensive. In both words and deeds. 

"Your Highness!" The sudden exclamation from the other side of the bathroom doors jolted (Y/N) from her shock. "Your Highness? You must make haste! The wedding ceremony is in two hours!"

(Y/N) didn't recognize the voice, not because of her state of mind but because it was a female stranger speaking. A weight dropped in her stomach. 

A stranger was in her room.

That meant that Yuuji was nowhere to be found; he'd never allow someone she'd never been acquainted with to enter her chambers. 

As if ignited by a protective instinct, (Y/N) immediately clambered to her feet. She struggled to balance herself on legs that felt like putty, but with sheer determination, she trudged her way to the door and threw it open. A blonde lady, roughly a couple of years older than (Y/N), stood near her bed. A dress was laid out before the stranger, the white fabric practically announcing who it was meant for. 

"...Pardon my brashness," (Y/N) tested, her voice still slightly hoarse from being parched, "but who are you?"

The woman frowned in her direction. Her lack of reverence towards the princess was surprising—it gave (Y/N) the impression that she was not someone who worked in the castle.

"Why, I am your dressmaker, Your Highness. I am here with the King's permission, though the guard outside was adamant I wait outside instead." She waved a hand dismissively as if to swat away some kind of nuisance. "What nonsense."

Well, (Y/N) thought to herself, frowning as she did so, Yuuji must've been outside after all.

She wasn't even given a chance to inquire further before the woman beckoned at her. "Make haste, Your Highness. I have to ensure that this dress fits you properly. We have no time to waste."

There was no opportunity for (Y/N) to put up a fight.

A prick of the needle drew blood from (Y/N)'s finger and her out of her daze. The abrupt pain faded into a faint pulse as the world around her sharpened into focus once again. 

The two hours had flown by in a blur. She'd been stuffed into her outlandishly lavish wedding gown, her feet crushed into insufferably high heels—once again. Through whatever connections the mysterious dressmaker had, she'd called in a horde of assistants to aid her. (Y/N) didn't recognize any of them. 

She had watched them throw her hair up into an elegant updo and had watched as a genuine veil descended before her eyes, secured to her hair via her crown. There was no blindfold today; if (Y/N) had to find one thing to be excited about, it would be that her vision was no longer obstructed by darkness. The thin, intricate lace material shielded her just enough that her features were unclear to onlookers, yet it granted her a new freedom. It was fascinating to see those around her as they worked, rather than only hearing them as she was used to. 

It also proved to be a horrifying experience when she'd been walking down the aisle. Being able to sense people's gazes paled in comparison to being both visually and physically aware of it.

Accompanied by Satoru, (Y/N) had forced herself to concentrate on the Great Hall's decorations to stay calm. The chandeliers. The rainbows reflected by sunbeams that bounced off the windows and filled the room. The smell of calla lilies and sweet peas and orchids that were present everywhere. They decorated the rows of benches that were occupied by wedding guests—(Y/N) had tried her hardest not to pay them any attention. They adorned the stairs leading up to the altar, arranged neatly on the podium before the officiant. 

Megumi had been waiting at the base of the stairs. Decked out in all white, it had been even easier to appreciate his towering frame and good looks in the daylight. But she'd spared him no further attention; the humiliation of last night had lingered in the back of her mind. Whatever impression she'd left on him, (Y/N) hadn't been brave enough to ask nor would she ever be brave enough to own up. She could only hope that His Grace was lenient enough to forget he'd ever seen it happen. 

He hadn't uttered a word to her either, even when Satoru had handed her over. He'd remained silent up until the officiant read through their vows. It had fallen on deaf ears for (Y/N), however; she'd tuned it all out. Through her foggy mind, she'd only registered Megumi's deadpan "I swear" and had enough sense left to follow suit when prompted.

Their words held no sincerity, no emotions tied to them. The promises they'd just sworn to each other were as good as null.

A realization had risen above the noisy din in (Y/N)'s mind. 

Somewhere in the audience was Yuuji. Somewhere in the mass of people, (Y/N) had thought, he was watching what should've been the two of them. The idea of Yuuji hiding his regret behind a smile threatened to bring tears to her eyes. 

Had it not been for the blood draw, her mind would've continued to spiral. It was a wedding tradition: the so-called blood vows that made a marriage binding.

Her eyes studied the curious red bead that sat atop the pad of her index finger. They bled all the same, royals and nobles and commoners. The same crimson blood tethered them to life itself, but for whatever reason, mankind had found it socially acceptable to divide themselves. They may differ in heritage, may differ by titles and houses, but in the end, they were all mortals under the expanse of the universe. 

"Your Highness," (Y/N) startled when the elderly officiant spoke, "if you could kindly press down here." With one wrinkled finger, he had pointed at one of two lines on the parchment before them. She hurried to oblige.

It pained her to sully the parchment with her blood, the splotch of red disrupting the otherwise white scroll. The officiant then bandaged her finger with a simple cloth and tape before moving on to Megumi beside her. This time, she watched in silence, much like the hushed audience sitting behind them.

He didn't so much as flinch as the needle pierced his skin, yet discontent was apparent on his face. His lips were drawn in a firm line as he pressed down his finger, leaving a mark behind that was slightly larger than hers. It was a done deal. Per the kingdom's laws, they were now legally married. With this document, (Y/N) may retain her position as the Crown Princess and her title as Her Royal Highness, but she was no longer a holder of the Gojo name. 

She was now Fushiguro (Y/N), the Grand Duchess first and foremost. The tens of thousands of citizens in the grand duchy were now her responsibility. A shadow of doubt clouded a corner of her mind: was she worthy of the title? Did she have the ability to rule a duchy? Would they accept her, a sheltered and inexperienced princess who knew nothing of the world outside of her palace? The idea of rejection unnerved her, but (Y/N) fought her inhibitions. Skills were honed over time; whatever she lacked, she would simply have to learn in due time. 

When Megumi straightened from the podium, the officiant motioned in (Y/N)'s direction. "If you will, Your Grace."

The princess stiffened as if a rod had been shoved down her spine, her heartbeat slowly building in pace.

Here it was. The grand finale, the last testament to their marriage.

With far from fluid movements, (Y/N) managed to turn and meet Megumi face-to-face. She had to refrain from shying away as his hands gently lifted the veil to uncover her face. His stoic expression gave way to one of awe, if (Y/N) was reading him correctly. 

Suddenly feeling rather timid under his gaze, (Y/N) didn't know where to focus her attention. He was even prettier than she remembered; maybe it was the daylight, or maybe because she was sober this time.

Was Megumi thinking about the same thing too? Was he mentally comparing her to what he had imagined her as?

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, her eyes dropping on cue to his lips.

"If you have any objections, I would speak up now," muttered Megumi, one hand settling on her waist. (Y/N) was able to read the words from his lips rather than hear them. The thundering of her heartbeat had almost drowned them out.

His touch was feathery light. She could feel it just barely under her corset but for some reason, the spot his hand rested upon felt as though it was on fire.

The tension was driving her mad; there was an odd intimacy in the way he held her. Like they weren't strangers to begin with. Only Yuuji had ever emanated the same feeling, and (Y/N) was left wondering if the friends had shared advice. Unconsciously, (Y/N) held her breath, and she could feel their audience doing the same.

This was not how she'd envisioned her first genuine kiss.

But then again nothing had gone as she'd envisioned in these past two weeks. 

When she didn't answer him, Megumi raised one brow in question. "Your Highness?" He whispered, leaning in just a smidge closer. It felt like he was asking for permission, waiting for her to voice any regrets. 

No other form of punishment could be more torturous than having to kiss in front of the entire kingdom. (Y/N) decided she needed this to be over and done with. Her urge to finish the ceremony heavily outweighed her apprehension towards Megumi; it gave her a newfound surge of bravery.  

"Let's give them a show."

It was she who took the initiative, closing the distance between them with one final step in his direction. Her eyes fluttered closed as their lips touched. (Y/N) was shocked to feel Megumi pressing closer after the initial astonishment...was he melting into the kiss?

Cheers and applause alike resonated throughout the hall; it only seemed to grow louder as the newlyweds finally pulled apart. A soft pink color dusted Megumi's cheeks and (Y/N) knew that she was the same color. Was that his heartbeat? Or was it hers?

He'd defaulted back to nonchalance, his expression betraying nothing besides the blush. 

But (Y/N) regarded him with furrowed brows. Amidst the joyous hubbub, only she was confused. There was no mistaking it; she had felt it. And what a shame she hadn't seen it. 

Megumi had unmistakably smiled against her lips just now.

Chapter Text

They say that you learn something new every day.

Not even an hour following their departure from the capital, (Y/N) learned that she was prone to motion sickness. 

She wished she'd been aware of it before she'd trapped herself for hours within a horse-drawn coach. But for someone who rarely traveled, how was she supposed to have known?

They'd left almost immediately following the ceremony. In order to reach the duchy safely by nightfall, they'd been given just enough time to change into more comfortable attire and bid their farewells. Yuuji's parents, in particular, had been rather teary. In contrast, Satoru and Suguru had teased (Y/N) to her wit's end, making it known that she was not allowed to feel homesick within the first three months but was always welcome to return home when she wanted. It went without saying that (Y/N) had brushed their taunts off, though a twinge of bittersweet nostalgia had struck her when they left the palace behind. 

Seeing her home from outside the gates was jarring. The feeling had only grown as they advanced further, (Y/N)'s entire childhood dwindling to indistinguishable towers in the distance. The idea that the palace grounds she'd confined herself to all these years was nothing but a speck on the horizon was inconceivable. 

It made (Y/N) all the more glad to have Yuuji by her side. In an unfamiliar land, he was a piece of home, a reminder of the life she had led up until now.

The coach was rather cozy, and had she not been fighting nausea for the last hour, (Y/N) might've found the experience enjoyable. She sat next to Yuuji, her hands digging into the fabric of her dress as she fought to keep her innards, well, inside. Opposite them was a brooding Megumi, his arms crossed over his chest while his seafoam eyes were trained on the passing scenery. Beside him sat his aide, who had introduced himself as Count Okkotsu Yuuta. (Y/N) had never met the count before; all she knew was that their two houses had originated from the same ancestor. At some point in history, they'd diverged enough that both titles and blood relations diminished. 

She also hadn't known Megumi had an aide at all; it was just another item on the list of mysteries to uncover about Fushiguro Megumi.

The count, despite the dark circles beneath his eyes, certainly smiled more than his liege did. Though his complexion and visible weariness worried (Y/N); was Megumi overworking the poor man? But, past the tired eyes, Yuuta was softer, kinder even. He seemed to have taken a liking to Yuuji: while (Y/N) had only exchanged conventional pleasantries, the two had been carrying on a conversation without a problem. It didn't come as a shock to her, however. She was more than aware of Yuuji's sociability, and there had been more than a handful of times when she envied him.

Whatever Yuuji may have felt when witnessing his first love kiss another man, he was hiding it incredibly well. (Y/N) hadn't been able to bring herself to ask him about it either. While she knew very well that their relationship couldn't be classified as romantic, she still felt as though she'd betrayed him. He was undoubtedly trying to refrain from thinking of it by keeping his mind busy. If that was what he wanted, then she saw no reason to pry at him. 

"Your Highness, are you...feeling alright?"

It took her a second to realize Yuuta was addressing her. Almost by instinct, (Y/N) reprimanded herself mentally: what other "Your Highness" was there?

She didn't trust herself enough to speak; both her head and stomach were churning. So, in response, all (Y/N) could muster was a nod and a meek smile.

Both Yuuta and Yuuji were staring at her with concern, and, she soon realized, that even Megumi was eyeing her with apprehension. A warmth climbed into her ears; why did all of them choose to be perceptive now? Or rather, was her discomfort so obvious that they were able to tell just from her pallor?

"If you're going to be sick, say something before it's too late," said Megumi.

She furrowed her brows at his tone. He'd essentially treated her as invisible following their kiss atop the altar, and she hadn't pressed him for any explanations regarding his reaction. There had been a small flare of hope that perhaps he was softening towards her, but it had been stomped out when he hadn't so much as offered her a hand when boarding their ride. It exasperated her to know that he felt the need to maintain the act; she could only pray that it was simply a slow process and not an impossible one. 

Megumi appeared to have understood her expression as he awkwardly shifted in his seat.

"I meant, if you're not feeling well, you should at least let us know."

Next to her, Yuuji was vigorously nodding in agreement.

"Fushiguro's right, Your Highness. It's going to be a long ride, we want you to be comfortable."

Before she could weave together a lie to assure them that all was well, a dip in the road jostled the carriage. A tide of nausea crashed down on her without a warning. Out of fear, (Y/N) slapped a hand over her mouth, blinking furiously as she focused on the floor beneath her. A flurry of panic erupted throughout the box, but (Y/N) waved them all away.

"...The window. Open the windows, please," she croaked, finally caving.

The last thing she wanted was to leave a bad impression before even entering the duchy. It was embarrassing enough to be susceptible to a moving vehicle; it only perpetuated (Y/N)'s image as a frail princess and she didn’t need it hindering her reputation. But (Y/N) wasn't an idiot either. She knew better than to test her limits and when she needed to step down from her pride. 

The men sprung into action. The sound of a window latch clicked loudly and was followed by another. Before long, all four windows of the carriage had been pushed open, and the woody smell of the forest outside filled the space. It took a couple of deep breaths before (Y/N) could feel the queasiness settle, but not fade. Even then, she was overtaken by relief, practically dissolving into her seat. 

Yuuta was the first to speak: "Forgive me Your Highness, but I've only heard of cases regarding motion sickness. You're the first I've ever witnessed."

"Believe me, my lord," (Y/N) replied, wearing a wry smile, "this is a first for me too."

The count chuckled, as though the princess had told a funny joke. It wasn't her intention to do so, but if it made the atmosphere bearable, (Y/N) would gladly keep making them.

She finally managed to lock gazes with Megumi. Something flashed briefly and disturbed the indifference he feigned. It disappeared as fast as it had appeared, however, making her suspect that perhaps the sickness was getting to her head. He remained silent before breaking eye contact completely. 

He was so frustrating. She was willing to overlook his insistence to hide his emotions, but he clearly had something to say just now. What is keeping him from being transparent?

It made her want to punch him. (Y/N) wondered what the repercussions for assailing the Grand Duke might entail. Surely there would be some exceptions if the assailant was his wife. 

A hand, calloused but gentle in touch, enveloped hers. Something fluttered in her heart as (Y/N)'s attention trailed upwards to find Yuuji asking an unspoken question with his eyes. The slight arch in his brows, the soft manner in which he frowned. It was an expression she'd seen and adored more times than she could count in her life. This was their shared way of checking on each other, a way to do so without drawing excessive attention.

With her free hand, she patted the back of Yuuji's hand twice in reassurance. I'm alright now.

He drew away almost instantly, and she found herself wishing for him to return. But she banished the thought as soon as it arose.

The ride ahead of them was a long one indeed.

"Oh..."

Standing before the Fushiguro castle, (Y/N) breathed out an exhale of wonder. The night air in the duchy was brisk and noticeably colder than the capital, which was now miles south of them. Even with Yuuji's cape around her shoulders, the chill of the night still nipped at her skin; she tugged it closer to her body. Compared to the stuffy carriage, however, (Y/N) was grateful to breathe fresh air once again. Even if it meant she had to put up with some shivering.

With Megumi and Yuuta leading the way, she and Yuuji were led up towards the castle's main entrance.

(Y/N) knew that luxury came with the title of Grand Duke, but Megumi's estate was more than she'd imagined. It was by no means the royal palace, but the architecture had its own charms. Although the last rays of sunlight had long since descended, the castle grounds were brightly lit with oil lamps glowing from within their glass orbs. The turrets and various windows of the expansive fortress shined with the same light. The main walkway behind them had wounded through a well-attended lawn and garden, even though winter was creeping upon the land. It made her wonder if magic had been involved in maintaining the grounds—which shouldn't have been possible, given that the number of mages in the kingdom had steadily declined in the past decade. (Y/N) could make out the sandy pale stone used in the castle walls and the flags that flapped atop them.

The flags bore the Fushiguro crest, a reminder of whom it served.

They'd only just reached the top of the staircase, a massive platform that encircled the enormous oak doors before them, when three strangers came bustling through. The unannounced entrance would've been much more effective had their rowdy conversations not given them away. Their chatter didn't stop either; if anything, it only escalated when the newcomers laid eyes on the traveling entourage. (Y/N) watched with amused curiosity as Yuuta sidled up to a silver-haired male and green-haired female, practically brimming with joy. An odd intimacy floated between the count and the lady as they spoke, even without physical interaction. 

(Y/N) noted the matching shirt and trousers the strangers were wearing. They were identical enough to assume it was some form of uniform.

Knights, she realized, they're likely high-tiered officers in Fushiguro's troops. 

The lady, in particular, piqued (Y/N)'s interest. It was uncommon for a lady of high society to wear trousers by choice, though she made it seem as if it was the norm. The very aura she carried herself with was intimidating. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing her forearms, and her hair was swept up into a ponytail. A sword sat snugly against one hip and (Y/N) could make out two more daggers nestled on the other, all looped together with the same belt.

There was something oddly familiar about her that eluded (Y/N). It was as if she'd met the lady before, but not in the sense that she'd met her face-to-face. It was more along the lines of being reminded of someone who bore a resemblance. 

"Itadori!"

A brunette, clad in a dress almost as elegant as (Y/N)'s, darted towards Yuuji, who barely had time to react before the girl jumped and pulled him into a playful headlock. (Y/N) flinched at the sudden attack, instinctively stepping out of the way as she watched Yuuji attempt to wrestle free from the girl's grasp. Startled confusion soon gave way to cheerful recognition, however, and the knight grinned at his assailant.

"Kugisaki!"

It was like observing a fireworks show. (Y/N) half expected sparks to begin flying at the excitement exploding from the two. As they delved into conversation, practically hopping with enthusiasm, (Y/N) felt an unfamiliar feeling seeping into her mind.

She felt invisible. But in a different way than she had been in the palace, where the people chose to ignore her existence. Here, she was a complete outsider who knew of no one and nothing. It didn't matter that Yuuji had followed her from the capital; he would fit right in because he had friends here. (Y/N) knew not where to begin as a stranger who had no connections to the people here except for her new surname.

It hurt to know that Yuuji was her entire universe, yet he was capable of building a world that did not revolve around her. Perhaps it hurt even more knowing that she would've preferred it that way; she would've wished for him to be able to do so. 

Out of dismay, she ended up taking another step back, her eyes still trained on the two reunited friends. She was halted in her tracks as she hit something solid with her back; they let out an annoyed grunt in response.

When (Y/N) turned her head, she was met with Megumi's frown. She'd bumped into his chest, having somehow miraculously avoided stepping on his feet. 

"...My apologies, Your Grace." (Y/N) was quick to apologize, hurriedly creating distance between them. Flashes of memories from the night prior replayed in her mind. Before they could swamp her, (Y/N) forcefully stamped them out. 

Surprisingly, he didn't snap back with his typical sardonic tone and merely sighed heavily. As if he was fed up with the commotion. (Y/N) finally registered that he, too, had been left out of the conversations. But that couldn't be: he was the lord of this castle. Surely, they weren't choosing to overlook him. She reasoned that, if anything, he was likely the one choosing to ignore them. 

"Your Highness, I'd like to introduce you to some...important individuals that share this castle with me," said Megumi.

By some kind of tacit agreement, the ongoing chattering had ceased and all eyes were now trained on the pair. Unbothered, Megumi proceeded. With one hand, he gestured in the direction of Yuuta and his two companions.

"Zenin Maki and Inumaki Toge. They're the captain and lieutenant of my knights."

His officers bowed respectively in turn as their names were called, though neither of them spoke, opting to smile at (Y/N) instead.

(Y/N) returned their smiles, albeit hers was a little forced. She forced her surprise not to show in her expression.

A Zenin. Here, in the Fushiguro dukedom. That's why Maki had seemed so familiar; she must've been included in the Zenin family registry, and (Y/N) must've stumbled upon her at one point during her studies. Curiously enough, (Y/N) was unable to recall which branch Maki descended from. She couldn't have been a daughter of the archduke; Naobito would've expected different things from his daughter. It was likely that she was a niece, but definitely not a sister. 

Which then begs the question as to why the Zenin's allowed Maki to serve under Megumi, much less be the captain of his troops. Was there something foul at play here?

No, (Y/N) automatically corrected herself, he wouldn't blindly let someone he didn't trust occupy such a crucial position.

She wasn't given a chance to ponder over the conundrum when Megumi directed his hand at the brunette beside Yuuji.

"This is Kugisaki Nobara. Granddaughter of the baroness, and your lady-in-waiting," he paused briefly, before adding, "Your only lady-in-waiting. But there will be servants attending to you for other orders of business."

(Y/N) had no time to consider a greeting when Nobara came charging in her direction. With a bright smile, she grabbed (Y/N)'s hands in hers. She had to hold back a wince; Nobara's grip was tight. No wonder Yuuji had a hard time escaping her earlier.

"Don't worry, Your Highness. I'll do my best to make your stay at the duchy entertaining. Because that one," she looked up to stare pointedly at Megumi, "would rather die than have some fun."

Nobara's boldness struck (Y/N) with astonishment. She turned her head towards Megumi with wide eyes, only to find that he was rolling his in response. 

"I'm busy, Kugisaki. The duchy doesn't run itself."

Nobara made a face that screamed disgust. She directed her attention back to (Y/N) with raised brows.

"See? Would rather die."

The laugh escaped her before she could process it, and the pleased look on Nobara's face was more than enough to mitigate the earlier feeling of loneliness.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered, squeezing Nobara's hands in return. Nobara's presence was similar to Yuuji's; that must be why she felt at ease with her. 

Perhaps there was still the possibility of settling in. She was ready and willing to learn the ins and outs of the duchy, but they had to be willing to teach her. 

Chapter Text

It was so lonely. 

Yuuji lay sprawled eagle on his bed in his new chambers, staring blankly upwards. The ceiling above him was high and the windows beside his bed were cracked open. The curtains billowed softly as the wind snuck in through what space had been left. 

He'd expected to be placed in normal servant quarters—surely his privileges in the capital didn't extend here—yet Megumi had generously set aside a room just for him. He'd been assigned to the same wing that Maki and Toge lived in; he was told that these rooms were designated for high-standing officers, though many were left unoccupied by Megumi's lack of regard in filling these positions. 

The room itself was lavish. But no amount of posh decorations and comfortable bedding could mask the absence of home in this room. His belongings had barely taken up any space in the room and it left an emptiness that Yuuji was unsure how to fill. There was a faint soapy smell that hadn't quite faded from the air, as though someone had only finished cleaning recently.

It was clear that no one had lived here for quite sometime before Yuuji's arrival.

Laying there, facing the ceiling, he came to a sad conclusion. 

He missed (Y/N) already. 

He'd watched her get whisked away by a swarm of maids, all but sparing him one last smile of reassurance. He had wanted to follow her, but what they were preparing her for, he certainly had no role in it. 

Yuuji raised a hand before his eyes, grasping at the empty air for a semblance of comfort. He missed her touch. There hadn't been a single night that he hadn't held her with this hand, so to know that he would not have the honor tonight felt wrong. It was such an odd feeling: for someone who normally adapted well to change, Her Highness's absence was a change that he couldn't see himself getting over. But as much as it hurt now to let her go, he could only hope that this pain would dwindle.

And it had hurt watching (Y/N) kiss Megumi during the ceremony. His mind wandered, thinking about the way his world had faded into blurry faces and static colors. Only the three of them remained amidst the cacophony, and as the only one sitting in the audience, the altar had been nothing but a barrier to Yuuji. A boundary that he could never wish to cross. 

Everyone around him was celebrating, accepting, and moving on. Yet, he alone remained stagnant, rooted in the ground by the ideals he so blindly chased and the lines he'd drawn himself. He had no one else to blame but himself; years of bottled emotions could remain bottled, or he could choose to discard them. 

Yuuji didn't know what he wanted to do. All he knew was that some of the promises he made to the Crown Princess didn't—couldn't—apply to the Grand Duchess. His position in her life had changed for the better, and he had no idea where to begin this adjustment. Everyone was moving forward in their lives, but he had made no advancements. 

(Y/N) would be fine. She'll grow into her role and title as the Grand Duchess because that's how capable the princess was. Megumi would take care of her, and be her support. He'd teach her how to reign over a duchy, just as he taught himself. Just as he had fought for the title of Grand Duke himself. So then where did that leave Yuuji? 

Would things have been different if he'd fought for honor and glory, and he'd been bestowed a title? If he'd been the Grand Duke, or even the Captain of the Royal Guards as his father had been, would he have been the one asking for (Y/N)'s hand in marriage?

But then he would've left (Y/N) alone during her most vulnerable points, and Yuuji wouldn't have been able to stomach such an idea. 

He gritted his teeth, bringing down his arm to cover his face.

Pathetic. When have you gotten so pathetic?

Her words echoed from a corner of his mind.

You are your own person, Yuuji. Your own person with your wants and feelings. 

But who even was Itadori Yuuji without Her Highness? His whole life, his entire purpose, was dedicated to serving her. Protecting her. (Y/N) wants him to have his own identity outside of her but, Yuuji realized with a shudder, he'd lived as her shadow for so long that he wasn't even sure if he had a different identity aside from "The Princess's Knight."

So where does he begin to differentiate between that and Itadori Yuuji?

The fact that he didn't have an answer said more than any actual solution may have. 

The heavy set of doors before her felt threatening. (Y/N)'s feet were frozen in place, her hand hovering mid-knock. Behind these doors were Megumi's bed chambers. A man's bedroom, with no one but the two of them for hours. A shiver traveled down her spine.

She was to spend the night with him.

Alone.

And the night after that, and the next, for the rest of their lives.

Though the hall was well-lit with candles, the light cast her shadow ominously on the doors, as though waiting to devour her whole. She let her hand fall, loudly rapping twice on the door, before using it to tug the silk shawl around her shoulders tighter. There was a chill traveling throughout the corridor, and her thin nightgown was poor protection against it. The maids had giggled and persuaded her into it, claiming that the extra mile was necessary.

The maids of the Fushiguro castle were so chatty. The difference between attitudes here and in the palace was so striking that she'd all but forgotten her discomfort from the number of people who were attending to her. The castle staff back home had been rigid and strict in etiquette, never so much as uttering a peep out of fear. The late king and queen had been notorious for a reason. But the servants here spoke freely, and not a shred of fear could be seen or heard in their expressions or words. 

(Y/N) had spent hours being bathed and prepped by a team of maids; they'd pressed her with more questions than she could count, and they'd talked through more conversations than she could keep up with. It was peculiar that in a place as cold as the duchy, the people were warmer than most she'd met all her life. 

The door swung open inwards, and (Y/N) straightened to attention, her gaze swinging upwards to find...Megumi?

She blinked at the man before her, his black hair damp and covering his forehead. He wore a linen shirt and pants, much more prepared for bed than she was. It was Megumi, without a doubt. (Y/N) had grown familiar with his erratic hairstyle, however, so seeing him with his hair down stumped her. His eyes roved over her, his expression morphing as his gaze trailed back up to meet hers.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

He looked appalled.

Offended at his tone of voice, (Y/N) bristled, her arms crossed in defiance. "You think I chose to dress like this?"

He paused, piecing together the possible scenarios. "...Did the maids...?"

"Yes, the maids," (Y/N) tossed her hands in the air in exasperation, nudging past him without an invitation. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from traveling, but (Y/N) could feel her patience whittling away.

Megumi didn't protest, merely stepped out of her way. Once she'd made it past the doorway, (Y/N) was able to appreciate the room for herself fully.

Although there wasn't much to appreciate, she soon noticed.

For a Grand Duke, Megumi lived rather simply. She'd expected an elaborately decorated room, bejeweled and brimming with signs of wealth. But there were little to no decorations. His bed took up the majority of the chamber, the head frame pushed up against one wall. A few potted plants sat by a window that led out to a balcony, the curtains drawn open for a view of the night sky. The opposing wall had a massive bookshelf embedded within it, with volumes of leather-clad books stocked in neat, organized rows. A couch sat in front of it; (Y/N) imagined Megumi reading and lounging there, book in hand. The white walls were bare except for a couple of painted portraits: one of an older woman with kind eyes and a bright smile, another of a younger lady, and the last featured a small lakeside villa. There were no signs of his infamous father anywhere. 

Megumi must've noticed her attention lingering on the portraits, as he said from behind her: "I can have one of us commissioned."

She tore her gaze away, turning to find him staring at the portrait that (Y/N) could only guess was of his mother. He was a near spitting image of her, down to the elegance in their features. But then who was the other girl?

"...If you mean to commission a portrait for purposes of upholding appearances, I see no need to rush," (Y/N) listed her head to the right as she stared him down.

She prayed that he wouldn't notice the way her hands were shaking with nerves, or the way she was trying not to shift her focus onto something that wasn't him. The reason why she was here in the first place weighed heavily on (Y/N)'s mind. It was nerve-wracking just considering sharing a bed with someone she'd met exactly four times, much less even fathom intimacy with him. But she found herself trusting him, or at least wanting to trust his morality. 

The way Megumi steadily held her gaze also did little to ease her apprehension; if anything, it elicited a stronger sense of self-consciousness, and (Y/N) couldn't help but think about how ridiculous her nightgown must've appeared. 

"I know what you're thinking," he suddenly blurted, as if having read her thoughts, "I don't plan on it. Like you said, this is only for the sake of appearances."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, a layer of apprehension shedding itself from her mind. She hadn't misplaced her trust after all. "Right."

Without even being prompted, Megumi continued, "Rumors travel fast, and we have to maintain the image that we're getting along." 

We. Not I.

For some reason, his choice of words brought a ghost of a smile onto (Y/N)'s lips. It felt like he acknowledged her part in this marriage; she was not a cog in his plans but more so a partner. Perhaps, rather than allow herself to succumb to melancholy, (Y/N) could take a shot at happiness by Megumi's side. As a partner, a friend, whatever their precarious relationship would develop into. 

As simple as the act itself was, it allowed for (Y/N)'s walls to lower just enough that she no longer felt on edge. 

"I won't argue with that," she told him, turning away, "Since this marriage is a pretense all the same." 

She didn't wait for his response, despite seeing Megumi opening his mouth out of the corner of her eyes. He couldn't refute the truth in her words, (Y/N) knew that much.

As she wandered away from him, (Y/N) could feel his gaze boring into her back, observing her every move. She wanted to tell him to avert his eyes, that his staring made her overly aware of herself, but she held her words back. Instead, (Y/N) hauled herself into bed, busying herself with rearranging the stack of pillows into a neat line down the center.

"What are you doing?" Megumi asked from opposite her. He remained standing, but he wore a look of intrigue. (Y/N) sat back to admire her creativity and shot him a small smile of satisfaction.

"Setting boundaries. You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine. You won't have to worry about accidentally causing me any offense, and I won't intrude on your personal space. Is that not a good compromise?"

For a long moment, the two of them regarded each other in silence. Him with an unreadable expression and her with quiet anticipation. But, after several seconds, (Y/N)'s hopes began to dim. Was he unhappy with her proposal? Should she have considered a different compromise? 

Rather than answer her, Megumi merely turned away, snatching a pillow from the bed as he did so. The motion was oddly mechanical, however, as though his limbs were poorly oiled parts of a machine. She could've sworn she caught a dusting of pink in his cheeks. 

Was he embarrassed?

"I'll, just, sleep on the couch," Megumi mumbled as he hurriedly shuffled away, "You can have the bed. Yes. Perfect."

"But," she followed him with her gaze, her nose scrunching in concern, "with what will you cover yourself with...?"

He didn't answer her. (Y/N) watched as he threw the pillow onto the couch and then proceeded to lie down. With his arms crossed, he left her with a curt "I'll be fine" before he slammed his eyelids shut, squirming to find a comfier position. Unfortunately, Megumi proved to be too tall for the length of the couch, and (Y/N) had to stifle a laugh at the way his feet hung off the armrest. She hadn't done a spectacular job at doing so, however, as he shot her a look from across the room. Even in the dim light, she could make out the furrow in his brows; he was no doubt annoyed at her antics. She was definitely amused with his; if she wasn't, (Y/N) might've struck one last attempt at persuading him to reconsider. But he seemed adamantly set on his decision. And she knew better than to waste her breath or his time by starting an argument. 

She gave him an exaggerated shrug, "If you insist." 

Her defeat was met with a huff, and Megumi closed his eyes once again. (Y/N) allowed herself the smallest of smirks at this reaction: Grand Duke or not, Megumi had the temper of a teenager. 

"Good night then, Your Grace."

"Good night."

Besides, (Y/N) was more than happy to have the spacious bed all to herself. Although, she did keep the line of pillows down the center, on the off-chance that Megumi decided the couch was not suitable for slumber after all. As she began tucking herself into bed, her mind wandered to Yuuji.

Was he adjusting well? Did he find his quarters satisfactory? 

Did he miss her at all or was he enjoying his new freedom unshackled from her side?

The silence in the room was deafening. She was so used to hearing Yuuji's steady breathing and heartbeat that the absence of it unnerved her.

Suddenly, the emptiness around her felt overwhelmingly dangerous. The window balcony next to her left her vulnerable to assassins brandishing poison. The doors on her other side were susceptible to sword-toting intruders. Above her, the ceiling threatened to cave in at any given moment and the floor beneath her could collapse all at once, swallowing her whole with no remorse. There would be no one to shelter her and the only person she trusted was far, far away. She was an open target, a desirable target. 

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut, burrowing herself under the blanket as she curled in on herself. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and her breathing grew unsteady. It was so loud; she wouldn't have been surprised if it woke Megumi up. The combined darkness didn't comfort her as she'd hoped, but it allowed her to refocus her thoughts.

There are no assassins, no intruders.

Nobody is trying to kill her.

Megumi is only a couple of steps away. He would protect her. 

But her mind decided that a couple of steps was too many steps away. Yet, (Y/N) refused to give in to her fears. At some point she'd convinced herself that this was the first challenge in her path to independence; if she couldn't prove resilience now, then she would've already failed her goal. She'd convinced herself that she didn't want to be a burden to Megumi as she'd been to Yuuji. It would be humiliating to wake Megumi up for her selfish needs, and even more so to show him this side of her. So she could only continue to remind herself of those three truths, trying her best to tether herself to reality. Over and over and over. 

Minutes must've gone by before she could feel her breathing slow to a normal pattern, but her heartbeat continued to hammer loudly in her skull. Tears were gathering at the corner of her eyes, and she hastily swiped them away. Her palms ached where she'd dug her nails into them. She was shaking from head to toe, shivering in cold sweat. 

She felt pathetic. 

But she'd already made up her mind. Just for tonight, just this once, and tomorrow she'll retry. 

(Y/N) reluctantly drew herself up into a sitting position. The moonlight had been obscured by the clouds, bathing the room in shadows. Her eyes searched for the lump atop the couch that was now Megumi. There was no audible breathing. Was he asleep already?

"...Your Grace?" She tried.

No response.

"Fushiguro?" 

Silence.

Tentatively, (Y/N) breathed out her final attempt: "Megumi?"

Her heart lifted at the rustling his name elicited, and relief flooded into every nerve of her body when it was followed by a groan.

"What is it now?"

Guilt stabbed at her; she must've woke him up after all. Would he even agree to what she's about to ask of him?

"Would you," she began, stopping when her voice wavered. After taking a second to gather herself, (Y/N) tried again, "Could you be a little...closer?"

No response. When (Y/N) was starting to believe that his silence implied rejection, Megumi heaved a heavy sigh. She could hear more than see him fumbling about and making his way to her in the dark. The mattress shifted under (Y/N), and the moonlight came flooding back into the room just in time to cast its light on Megumi's disgruntled expression. (Y/N) offered him an apologetic smile, watching as his vexation melted into concern. He didn't pry for an explanation, opting instead to tuck himself into bed, and she thanked him mentally for it. Unsurprisingly, he kept to his side of the divide, lying on his back with his eyes already closed. 

"Better?" He asked.

(Y/N) turned onto her side to face him, but kept a fair distance so as not to cause him any more discomfort.

"A little."

His next move came as a shock: without a word, he extended one hand to her, resting it on one of the pillows between them. He must've sensed her preparing to ask questions as he countered almost immediately. 

"It helps, right?"

How did he know that? 

But she didn't want him to retract what might have been the most compassion he'd ever shown her. So following an incredibly brief contemplation, (Y/N) slid her hand into his. Their fingers interlocked, though neither of them tightened their grip. It was the first hand she'd ever held besides Satoru's and Yuuji's, but the warmth and solace that radiated from him was all the same. The dread brought on by her panic was starting to dissolve. 

Maybe she could get used to this. 

"Thank you," (Y/N) murmured.

When she was met with silence once again, (Y/N) suspected that perhaps he'd already fallen back asleep. He wasn't obligated to give her a response, however, and she wasn't about to demand it from him after already making one. She was finally at ease again. Her eyelids fluttered close as she made an effort to sleep. 

If only she knew the effect she had on Megumi at the moment. 

Sleep would be a long time coming for him tonight.

Chapter Text

“…guro. Fushiguro. Fushiguro?”

Yuuta's voice fell on deaf ears, sounding incredibly far away to Megumi's muddled mind. 

The man in question was sitting at his office desk, one hand clutching his head as he stared down at the leaflets of paper spread before him. Everything before Megumi kept unfocusing, blurring then sharpening against his control. His eyelids were heavy, and they wanted nothing more than to slam shut and drag him into a deep slumber.

He had gotten little sleep last night—if the couple of hours he managed to get even counted as sleeping. The idea had originally been to separate himself from her, to erase the very existence of (Y/N) in his room from his mind. But, instead, Megumi had spent the night wading in and out of consciousness, never actually letting himself rest. The cold and clammy hand he held the entire night had been a reminder that he couldn't allow himself to lower his guard. He needed to be vigilant so that (Y/N) could sleep without any worries.

And she'd done just that.

He'd been painfully aware of her presence all night, even more so after she'd called out to him by name. It drove daggers into Megumi's heart; there was no way he could've continued to ignore her, never mind sleep. Even when dawn had broken, (Y/N)'s expression felt engraved in his brain: that look of relief, as though the world had rebuilt itself in the time it took to make his way to her.

Interestingly enough, Megumi couldn't remember consciously deciding to offer her his hand. There had been no thought process behind it, yet he had been sure it was the right thing to do. Though it was far from the complete peace he'd seen her sleep with around Yuuji, Megumi was beyond glad that she was able to find solace in his touch. She slept with such tranquility holding on to him that it made the grueling hours worthwhile. But when the morning had arrived and it was clear that Megumi would not be getting any more chances at sleeping, he'd pried himself away from (Y/N)'s grasp. Then, like a thief in the night, he'd quietly dressed and slipped out of his room, leaving behind a still snoozing (Y/N) to clutch at a pillow. He hadn't necessarily wanted to leave her alone, but the awkward idea of having her wake up to his sleep-deprived face drove him away.

Megumi dug his fingers into his hair.

What kind of nightmares haunted her so deeply that she'd settle for a stranger's comfort? What kind of horrors ran rampant in her mind that even sleeping alone terrified her? 

He thought about her parents' assassination, about the crimes she'd witnessed at such a young age. He knew who and where to ask for answers, but he couldn't bring himself to. It would be one thing to pry, and another for her to want to confide in him. Megumi would not force her nor did he want to; he knew better. If and when (Y/N) wanted to, she would tell him on her own terms.

"Did it not go well with Her Highness last night?" Yuuta tried again, successfully catching Megumi's attention this time, "You look like a man who's barely escaped death."

Megumi didn't need to hear it from Yuuta to know how haggard he appeared. With enough effort to uproot the Fushiguro estate from the ground, he raised his head to meet Yuuta's concerned gaze. For a moment, the world flipped in every way possible. He squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to shake his head out of fear that it would make the headache worse. 

"It's worse than the king let on. I've seen soldiers returning from battle recover faster than she has in ten years," he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple in exasperation, "How can a person have no warmth to their hands at all? It was as though she had no blood in her body to begin with."

When he was met with silence, Megumi peeled his eyes open and shot a questioning glance at his aide. Sitting at his own desk just off to Megumi's side, Yuuta wore a curious expression. As though he had something to say but was holding himself back. Or perhaps, Megumi narrowed his eyes at the upturned corners of Yuuta's lips, it was amusement that the count held back. 

"...What?" Megumi asked, already bracing himself to go on the defensive. 

Yuuta, however, merely shrugged.

"Aside from Tsumiki, I have yet to hear you fuss over another person's health so much. I can't imagine how happy Her Highness would be to hear this."

The lilt in his voice was more than enough to raise the hairs on Megumi's neck in embarrassment. The people perceived him as cold and unforgiving, but because it had never worked against his favor before, Megumi never made the effort to prove otherwise. Despite how much he hated it. Being viewed as heartless was safer than being hailed as a hero.

Megumi certainly never saw himself as one. A hero bore the burden of the people's safety, but he saw himself as just another soldier fighting for his life. Because he and Tsumiki had no other options. It was do or die and if he had to willingly bear someone's safety, it would be his sister's. 

But with (Y/N), the last thing he wanted was for her to harbor the same fear and judgment as his citizens did. Everyone else can think of him as no different from the monsters he slayed, but he wished, prayed, that (Y/N) would never. But he couldn't understand why: was it because he felt responsible for her now that she was his wife on paper? Was it because he felt guilty for having dragged her away from all that she was familiar with? Perhaps it was a sense of duty, like how he felt towards his soldiers. 

Yes. That was it. A sense of duty, an obligation. He needed her to trust him and like him to keep their relationship from souring. 

In an effort to chase away the nagging denial from his mind, Megumi waved away Yuuta's lighthearted tease. 

"I'm looking out for her like I do for the rest of you. Don't overthink it."

"My, but you wouldn't be losing sleep over Toge or me like you do for her."

Megumi averted his eyes in shame, and it was especially overwhelming given that Yuuta was correct. He wanted to argue that it was different for them: they were not the ones in shambles in his room at an ungodly hour. If he hadn't seen the tears on (Y/N)'s face or the panic in her voice, he wouldn't have cared.

Right?

He wasn't about to give his senior the satisfaction of seeing him flustered and confused. With a slight frown, Megumi lowered his head back down, grumbling as he picked through his pile of documents again. Yuuta, having understood that the conversation was over, mirrored this motion with a quiet sigh.  

Shortly after, the office door swung open, loudly announcing someone's arrival. Megumi's brow twitched in irritation as his frown deepened into a scowl; as if his headache couldn't get any worse. He raised his voice before his head, scolding the intruder:

"Kugisaki, for the last time, knock before you—" He stopped. He blinked. Out of the corner of his eyes, Megumi could see Yuuta watching with a mildly entertained smile. 

It had been Nobara who'd opened the door, there was no one else in the castle with a habit of barging into rooms unannounced, but it was the sight of (Y/N) following behind her that caught him by surprise. Her eyes—her uncovered eyes—found his, almost as if apologizing on behalf of Nobara's impromptu entrance. (Y/N) was noticeably more well-rested than he was: there was an alertness and curiosity to her that he was severely lacking. 

Why had she decided not to wear her blindfold today?

But past these worries, Megumi found his biggest concern lifting from his chest as he saw a spark of, what he believed to be, joy in (Y/N)'s gaze. A faint smile was gracing her lips. He wanted to return it but couldn't find the energy in him. At least she was enjoying Nobara's company; he'd been rather opposed to the suggestion given how extroverted Nobara was. Before they'd met officially, he'd been aware of (Y/N)'s reputation as a hermit, so all Megumi could imagine was how terrified (Y/N) would've been in the face of Nobara's energy.

If being wrong could ever make him cheer, now would be one of those times.

It took him a second to realize a third person was trailing behind the girls, and Megumi wasn't surprised when an overly sunny Yuuji stepped into the doorway. He did, however, find the distance between Yuuji and (Y/N) uncharacteristic. It appeared as though they were purposely keeping their distance from each other. He also noted their suspiciously plain outfits; all three had donned muted colors and hooded cloaks. The grays and browns in her outfit clashed with (Y/N)'s undeniably distinctive features, rendering her disguise trivial. After all, white hair was not common outside of the Gojo lineage, and violet eyes were less so even within their ancestry. He chose not to point this out, however; it would only ruin their fun, and Megumi didn't intend to dampen their cheery mood. 

"Good morning, Your Grace," Yuuji greeted, giving Megumi a teasing salute of his hand.

"Fushiguro, we're going to borrow (Y/N) for the day. We're heading out to town," Nobara declared immediately after, to which she was greeted with a less-than-amused expression, "We're still going even if you say no, by the way."

This rang quite a few alarms in Megumi's head. Town? During this time? It was just barely past noon, but this was when the crowds were strongest. For someone who needed convincing on the spot to enter her own banquet, how did she intend to handle a much less controlled environment with even more people? Would it be alright to let her go with only the three of them?

Megumi gave Nobara a deadpan look, attempting to hide his worries.

"If you were going to do so no matter what I say, why bother asking?"

"It was my suggestion," (Y/N) chimed in, stepping in between the two after sensing some mild hostility, "Both the outing and the asking. I figured you'd be less anxious if you were aware of where I've gone and with whom."

Her gentle reassurance was accompanied by another smile, this one much more apparent and blindingly sweet. Megumi felt whatever annoyance brewing in his heart slowly settling; he turned his gaze away. It felt as though (Y/N) was able to read him, even if unintentionally; it made him feel transparent. And he definitely didn't like how easily she could break down his defenses with a simple gesture. What is it about this woman? 

"...You don't need to ask for my permission to go anywhere. You're the Grand Duchess," grumbled the young duke, who then aimlessly picked at his papers as a reason to not meet (Y/N)'s eyes. 

"Well, Your Grace, I dislike people disappearing on me without a word, so I wouldn't enjoy doing the same to others."

Megumi noticeably tensed in his chair, though he kept his head down. Something in his heart withered ever so slightly as his title rolled off her tongue. So they'd gone back to formalities again. Had that been a dig at him for leaving her alone this morning? Did she expect an apology? She didn't sound angry, however, so could she be joking with him?

He'd meant it when he said that she didn't need his permission to go anywhere. While she may have taken on his family name, being the Grand Duchess, and in addition the Crown Princess, (Y/N)'s standing was equal to him. He had no authority over her even if he wanted, though that was more than alright with him. 

Finally, he risked a glance upwards, only to find himself face-to-face with eyes brimming with anticipation. Finally, he croaked out what he'd been holding in:

"Will you be alright with just the three of you?"

For a moment, (Y/N) stared back with an expression that he didn't quite understand. But it soon broke into a grin that she hurried to hide behind her hand. 

"If you're worried, you are more than welcome to accompany us," (Y/N) said, her voice wavering from withholding her laughter. 

Megumi was shocked to find that he almost wanted to accept her offer. But the feeling of parchment under his hand kept him grounded. He had a job to fulfill. 

"I...I can't. I have—"

"—work to do," Nobara finished for him, just shy from rolling her eyes, "We're aware. (Y/N), he won't budge no matter what you say. Just let him be." 

"Kugisaki, don't be cruel," Yuuji chided out of the blue, shooting Megumi an empathetic look, "There's nothing wrong with being hardworking."

A wave of appreciation for his friend swarmed Megumi, but he swallowed his words along with his courage and merely waved the trio away as though he was tired of their antics. 

"Just be safe."

He paused, before adding: "Have fun."

An eruption of cheers was Megumi's only response before the three of them hastily departed from his office, leaving him and Yuuta to wallow in silence once more. (Y/N) had left him with nothing but a smile.

Megumi couldn't see it himself, but Yuuta saw the wistful way in which Megumi watched his friends disappear. The longing and desire to be able to shed his responsibilities, because no matter how much Megumi tried to push his lack of interest in his job, he still carried it out to perfection. 

"You know, it would be fine to leave these with me," Yuuta offered softly, "You can still go with them."

But then it was gone, and it was as though an iron curtain had been pulled over Megumi's resolve once more. 

"They're better off without me bringing unnecessary attention. The people would recognize me too easily."

And that was final. Yuuta could tell from the way Megumi pursed his lips, unwilling to think about anything else.

He tore his gaze away, refocusing on his tasks at hand.

They made their journey to town via horseback. Though she'd learned to ride only a couple of times in her youth, (Y/N) was pleasantly surprised to learn that horses were a lot more agreeable with her motion sickness than carriages. She'd spent nearly the entirety of the ride being jostled in her seat but the discomfort in her backside easily outweighed stuffy carriage air. Beside her, Yuuji had spent the entirety of the ride nervously hovering. No matter how many times (Y/N) reassured him that her horse was more than friendly, Yuuji continued to eye the animal with wariness.

Nobara had teased him relentlessly over it. She had taken the lead, turning her head ever so often to check on (Y/N). Although, (Y/N) thought she was more so checking to be amused by Yuuji.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think (Y/N) was your wife. You're acting as if she'll shatter if you don't watch her for two seconds." 

Yuuji made an offended face at her, clearly not taking the joke well, "Please don't say that. Don't even speak that into existence."

Between their bickering, (Y/N) could only smile and chuckle without participating. A dull ache had begun to grow in her heart; the way Nobara and Yuuji interacted reminded her of the bantering she and Satoru often had as children. It was a similar sibling dynamic, one that was so alike that it struck sad nostalgia in the princess. But she didn't want to hinder their reunion with her sob stories, so she kept quiet and directed her attention instead to the urban sprawl that was slowly coming into view beyond the forest clearing. Within a month, (Y/N) knew these roads and trees would be covered in snow. The idea made her giddy: because the capitol was situated near the southern peninsula of the kingdom, snowfall was a rare occurrence. And in the times she had witnessed it, it had been nothing more than a dusting. It gave her something new to look forward to, amongst the many other things that she'd yet to familiarize herself with.

Starting with this town. Situated a mere half an hour from the Fushiguro estate, it was the largest settlement on ducal territory. Further out from it, the towns branched into smaller ones with even more minor villages dotting the border. Like she'd told Megumi, it really had been (Y/N)'s idea to visit. She'd always believed that a successful autocrat needed to understand their subjects from their perspective. Otherwise, what other reason would her parents have been murdered for? The late king and queen were always firm in enforcing the division of classes; they benefitted from the broken backs of the commoners, sinking them into the mud for the sake of creating an empire where they could never enjoy the fruits of their own labor. To them, the Gojo name was reason enough to do as they wished. To them, the Gojo name was in itself an entitlement to all that lived on the kingdom’s land. (Y/N) refused to follow her parents’ model. Perhaps by immersing herself in the locals, she’d learn a thing or two that might aid her in her official duties later on.

As they reached the outskirts of town, (Y/N) could smell a mix of scents, some pleasant and others not so much. Before she could dismount her horse, a hand tugged her hood further down her face. In defiance, (Y/N) peered down her nose at Yuuji as he drew away, landing on his feet with a soft thud. His hood was also drawn, though only enough to hide his vibrantly colored hair. Her gaze flitted to Nobara, who was walking her stallion toward a livery stable just ahead of them. She was the only one with her face still uncovered, (Y/N) noted. The stable hand seemed to recognize her too, from the animated way he spoke to Nobara. 

"We don't know how they'll react to you or what kind of image they have of you. It's safer for the time being," Yuuji explained quietly, extending a hand to help (Y/N) down. She gave an unladylike snort in response, to which Yuuji gave her an incredulous look. 

"Of course,” she mused as she stepped down from her horse with his help. “I wish I would've thought about that."

She had thought of it, that's why she'd foregone the blindfold for the day. After all, people were more likely to associate that piece of cloth with her identity than her face, which was essentially unknown to the world. Besides, (Y/N) rather enjoyed using her eyes for what they were meant without obstructions; it was like a breath of fresh air. 

Yuuji smiled softly as if he knew it all, “You probably already have.”

The moment her shoes touched the cobblestone streets, he had released her from his grasp. (Y/N) felt strangely hurt. The way he looked at her was unfamiliar; there was something in his gaze that (Y/N) didn’t quite understand. As if he'd set his mind on a goal unknown to her. She’d noticed the difference in Yuuji’s mannerisms since morning, though much of it was inconspicuous. He was ten steps away, rather than five. His touch was even more fleeting now than it had been. It mildly miffed her but what irritated her more was knowing why he kept his distance.

After all, it would be immoral to yearn for a friend’s wife. 

So she didn't blame, couldn't blame him. If she were in his shoes, she would've done the same to keep her guilt from crushing her. But it didn't stop her from feeling a little dispirited. 

Luckily, Nobara came back in time before the atmosphere could take a turn for the worse, the stable hand in tow behind her. Out of reflex, (Y/N) ducked her head down, edging closer towards Yuuji. Nobara directed her hand at the (Y/N) and Yuuji's horse, breezily giving instructions:

"Like I said, I only need the stalls until an hour or so before sundown. Maybe even before that. Thanks for your help."

As their horses were led off, an "oomph" escaped (Y/N)'s lips as Nobara slung an arm around her shoulders. With one hand, (Y/N) raised her hood to meet the other girl's eyes, which were bright with excitement. 

"Let's show you around, Your Highness."

Everything was so loud, but that much she had prepared herself for. Regardless, (Y/N) had to fight her anxiety to remain calm within the bumbling hive of the town center. If it hadn't been for her interlocked arms with Nobara, she might've bolted already. It was incredibly busy: market stalls selling food and merchandise alike crowded the streets. Larger and fancier storefronts loomed in the background with customers pouring in and out of every door. Rowdy children overtook the center plaza, running about and chasing each other, their parents nowhere to be found. There was a specifically warm and inviting aroma that enticed (Y/N), and after some time wandering from dressmakers to jewelers to cobblers, the smell led the trio to a bakery. The sign above the awning read "Sugar & Spice Emporium." Like a child picking out their birthday gift, (Y/N) planted herself at the bakery window, eyeing the various pastries that were practically calling to her. 

"(Y/N), we can go inside. You don't have to stay out here ogling it," Nobara joked, gently pulling her in the direction of the door.

She sheepishly complied, thankful that the hood hid her reddening ears from view.

"I was simply admiring them," (Y/N) said, rather ashamed to have her sweet tooth exposed. 

"You can admire them when they're in front of you," was Nobara's response as she pushed past the door. The soft twinkling of a bell announced their arrival, and (Y/N) took a moment to revel in the heavenly scent of baking bread and sugary confections. A soft pat on her arm as Nobara pulled away drew (Y/N) out of her daze.

"I know just what to get. Wait for me at a table."

Without waiting for a reply, she was already gone and (Y/N) was left alone with Yuuji. When she met her knight's gaze with questioning eyes, he threw his hands up into an adorably defeated shrug.

"She probably knows what she's doing. Let her be."

Because space was sparse, Yuuji was forced to remain in close vicinity to (Y/N), though he purposely picked the seat across from her when they found an empty table. (Y/N) tried to pay his actions little attention. It would've been different had it been just the two of them on this outing, but with Nobara here, she didn't want to sour the mood.

The bakery, like everywhere else in the area, was packed. Most of the tables were occupied by women, likely mothers and daughters on their afternoon tea break. (Y/N) was especially mindful of the content glow that everyone seemed to have, and this was true everywhere they'd gone today. It was an indicator that life in the duchy was bearable, perhaps even better than life elsewhere. On one hand, it proved to her that Megumi was a fair and considerate ruler. However, on the other, it pained her to know that even living under fair conditions, Megumi's reputation remained disputable amongst his own subjects. 

A thought escaped (Y/N)'s mind before she could stop it: "Are the people back home as happy as this?"

Yuuji, whose attention had been elsewhere amidst the din, was startled to hear (Y/N)'s voice. He took a moment to process her question, humming as his brain raced. (Y/N)'s train of thought was carrying her back to the city she'd grown up in, but never actually interacted with. What she knew about the lives of her subjects were generalized experiences and neat numbers relayed to her through newspapers or reports. Unlike here, she'd never seen for herself what life was like outside of her palace walls. But she'd had her part in policy and lawmaking, even if they were simple opinions or suggestions. Seeing the residents here made her wonder if there were things she could've done better back home or perhaps things that she should've done for them before leaving. 

"Well..." Yuuji began, unsure about how to word his answer, "It is a lot more urban back home, which makes it a lot harder to organize. One would say that it's more chaotic back in the capital, but I wouldn't say that the people are unhappy. At least, not anymore."

Liar.

She could hear it, the way he was sugarcoating the truth for her. It confirmed a suspicion that (Y/N) didn't intend to address for the time being.

Now was not the place nor time.

(Y/N) cast her gaze downwards, at her hands that were demurely folded in her lap. What kind of life did her subjects back home lead while she was basking in a luxurious lifestyle? Living with the grief and dread caused by the chain of events following her parents' death may have taken a toll on her, but she was able to seclude herself and recuperate in a fancy palace. But how many people were out there suffering from the same grief without the same luxury accessible to her? How many people suffered under the previous monarchy just to rejoice in silence at the news of their death? The irony of their parallels left a bitter taste in (Y/N)'s mouth, and she wished she had never grown aware of her ignorance. It was so easy to forget that those outside of the palace walls were individuals each leading their own lives from the shelter of her castle walls. 

Had she failed already? Would these people forgive her for her benightedness? 

(Y/N) fidgeted with her hands. She picked at her nails, picked at the tender skin of her fingertips. These hands had never so much as lifted anything other than books and pens. Never before had (Y/N) done any manual labor herself, or accomplished anything by her own hands. These townspeople were fighting and paving their own future when everything in her life had been handed to her. She came to town with the intention of acclimating, but she felt like a sore thumb that stuck out. How can one expect to fit in when she never belonged in the first place? 

Was this how Megumi felt when he was thrown unexpectedly into high society? She should ask him when they returned. 

Bits and pieces of a conversation made their way to (Y/N)'s ears. Three feminine voices in particular caught her intrigue. 

"...the Crown Princess!..."

"But it's arranged?..."

"That's what they say...but I think..."

They're talking about me, (Y/N) thought glumly. She lifted her head just in time to see Yuuji's face contorting into a disapproving frown. He must've caught on to the same conversation; the ladies partaking in the gossip weren't exactly trying to hide it. Approaching footsteps drew (Y/N)'s attention toward Nobara, who wore an equally displeased scowl and was balancing three plates of delicately crafted cakes in her hands. (Y/N) recognized, with alarm, the hostility in Nobara's eyes which she kept trained in the direction of the ladies as she set down the plates on the table. 

"Gossiping in broad daylight like this," Nobara huffed, taking a step in their direction before being stopped by Yuuji and (Y/N). They waved frantically for her to sit down, and she complied, though visibly unwillingly. But while her friends were angry on her behalf, (Y/N) saw this as an opportunity. After all, what better method was there to learn of one's image in other people's eyes if not through the gossip mill? She fished around in the depths of her heart for whatever bravery she could muster and held on tight to it. 

As (Y/N) scooted her chair back, she was met with confusion from her companions. Rather than heed their concerns, she checked that her hood was safe against her head. Yuuji and Nobara were gaping at her with wide eyes, but (Y/N) smiled assuringly. 

"I'll be right back. Don't move unless you are sure that I'm being threatened."

"(Y/N)," Yuuji started, but quickly clamped his mouth shut as she shook her head. She'd made up her mind, and so he watched helplessly as she waded her way to the table of strangers. 

As (Y/N) drew nearer, she could hear their conversation dying down. The three ladies were fairly young, not much older than she was. They were dressed a little more elaborately than the other customers, with accessories that were easily someone's monthly income. Likely minor nobles; (Y/N)'s guess was solidified by the way they recoiled considerably at her presence. 

One of the girls frowned at her, shifting her judging gaze over (Y/N) as she threw her caramel-colored curls over one shoulder. "And who are you?"

Her friends were less adversarial, though neither were friendlier. They studied (Y/N) from behind the rim of their tea cups, no doubt writing off her outfit as boring in their mind. 

Rather than be bothered by their attitudes, (Y/N) squared her shoulders and settled into the singular empty seat. A strand of her hair was visible beneath her hood, and she hoped that the mystery of her disguise might hold the girls' attention long enough. She allowed herself a smile, mirroring their flippant demeanor. Surprisingly, this, (Y/N) was able to do with ease. 

"Forgive me, ladies. I overheard your conversation and was intrigued. What is this affair about the Crown Princess?"

That seemed to do the trick: they immediately leaned back in, hungry to circulate their tales. It didn't even seem to occur to them that they'd been speaking loud enough for someone to justify eavesdropping as curiosity.

A second girl, with straight dark brown hair, spoke in an exaggerated hushed tone: "Well, it's no secret that the Grand Duke married the Crown Princess just yesterday."

"Some speculate it to be arranged, but others are saying that they've been courting each other for years," added her friend, who sported bright blonde buns. "Anyone who's anyone here in the duchy knows of the relationship between His Majesty and His Grace. They say that because the princess has always been so sickly, His Majesty kept her confined to the palace annex for her safety. His Grace has visited her in secret for years, waiting for her to accept his affections."

Right, (Y/N) thought to herself, and wrong. Where did these ridiculous rumors even originate? She couldn't even imagine a pining Megumi, much less him pining for her. 

The first girl with the caramel curls, who (Y/N) had subconsciously labeled the ring leader, snorted at her friend.

"Anyone who's anyone knows that the second one can not be true. His Grace has no romantic ideals, much less time to visit a bedridden princess. I, for one, believe someone so weak would fare well not occupying the seat of Grand Duchess. His Grace needs someone capable of supporting him, not someone who would hinder him and our duchy. Like me, for instance."

"My," the brunette teased, "Are you suggesting that you're coveting the Grand Duchess title?"

"Oh please, be a wife to our stoically vapid duke? I wouldn't dare. He may be handsome, but that's about all that's charming about him."

A wave of tittering erupted around the table with all the girls hiding their snickers behind their hands. (Y/N) did not join them. It felt as though she'd been rooted to her seat, her smile frozen on her face. Was this anger that she felt pounding in her temples? Was she angry because they'd insulted her? Or was she angry on Megumi's behalf, knowing these are some of the people he fought valiantly for with his life? They didn't deserve it, she decided. They didn't deserve him, but he couldn't pick and choose who to save. 

"I think he's quite kindhearted," (Y/N) blurted, which earned her three astounded faces in return. But their shock didn't last, and the girls dissolved into a flurry of giggles again.

"Oh, stars!" The blonde gasped in between her laughter, "Are you even from the duchy to be saying that? Do you not know what he's known for?"

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, this time thoroughly annoyed. "Of course I do. As anyone with a full head on their shoulder would."

The insult seemed to sail right past the girl's head. "Then you're surely not from here. My goodness! The Grand Duke Fushiguro, a kind-hearted man! Let's not forget whose blood runs through his veins."

(Y/N) had had enough. 

"My ladies are quite right," she said, her words and smile laced with unusual contempt as she released her bait, "I am new to the duchy. After all, I've only just moved here recently."

The leader was the first to stop laughing to regard (Y/N) with brazen amusement. "Is that so? I thought you seemed out of your element. From where and when?"

Hook,

line,

and sinker.

With all the innocence in the world, (Y/N) lifted the hood that shadowed her hair and eyes, never once letting her smile falter. Her hair glowed underneath the warm lighting of the bakery lamps, and her deep-hued eyes twinkled with hidden spite. Somewhere off to her side, she could feel the shifting in energy from Yuuji and Nobara. 

"Why, yesterday, my lady. From the capital."

A silence settled at the table. (Y/N) waited. Gave them time to digest what they were seeing, to understand what they've done.

Realization dawned in the gossipmongers' eyes. Satisfaction, sweet and triumphant, swelled in her chest. 

"You're...the Crown Princess...?"

Chapter Text

For a moment, nobody moved. They didn’t dare to.

But in the next heartbeat, the ladies were struggling one after another to stand. They stepped on each other’s dresses and pulled on each other’s sleeves, all matters of friendship thrown aside in their panic, each fighting for their chance to be spared. (Y/N) should've been happier, should've felt prouder to know that her very presence instilled such fear. But as she watched terror overtake their expressions, all the swagger she'd felt initially began to dwindle. It struck like a sledgehammer at (Y/N)'s conscience. 

(Y/N) knew what they were thinking.

She’ll kill me.

She’ll kill my family.

She’ll kill us all.

After all, it was a serious offense to defame royalty. Under the previous monarchs, the sentences would have ranged from beheading to extinguishing the bloodline. An entire noble house, wiped from history, every last living relative. It would be as though they never existed. Through the hushed whispers throughout the palace halls, (Y/N) learned of such cases under her parents' rule: nobilities that dared to oppose them would have their estates mysteriously burned down. Mysteriously, the heads of their houses would go missing and turn up months later as morbid corpses, typically without their limbs or organs intact. But the most macabre of her parents' methods were not the ones carried out in secret. Rather, that title could only be used to describe slaughter made into entertainment. Public executions in the city center, where the gruesome sights were accessible to every pair of eyes, young and old. It mattered not who saw it but instead that the message was understood by everyone. 

Under Satoru's reign, however, these laws had been repealed in favor of less severe punishments. At least, to (Y/N)'s knowledge, they should've been. Certainly, there was no reason for them to be shaking in fear when their crime warranted minor penalties. 

She connected the dots before her confusion had enough time to settle: no law had ever been above the monarchy. Unfortunately, by royal logic, (Y/N) had every reason and right to do as she wished and deemed appropriate. It would be morally inane and dehumanizing. But because she was the victim in this situation, and most importantly because of her status, no one would dare to oppose her. At least, not to her face. But she was not here to encourage violence. She'd seen what sort of response the violence her parents had perpetrated would garner. It would tip her already unsteady favor amongst the people and public dissent towards her would grow in size behind her back.

Although (Y/N) couldn't bring herself to pity the girls for their wrongdoings. It was the truth that they were slandering Megumi and her, but such was the purpose of free speech. To hurt them would not be the right answer, but (Y/N) would not forgive them either. Besides, this scare was more than enough of a lesson.

Before the ladies could drop into apologetic curtsies, (Y/N) gestured for them to return to their seats. They dropped back onto their chairs at about the same speed they’d stood, amusing and worrying (Y/N) in one action. But she was worried about the attention their interaction had drawn—(Y/N) could feel curious onlookers straining to see what was going on—and the most intense energy radiated from Yuuji and Nobara, who looked about ready to tear the ladies apart. But like (Y/N) had asked, they remained at their table. And she much preferred it that way. This was their way of acknowledging her competence, and it gave her a much-needed boost of confidence knowing that they were her backup. 

“Our sincerest apologies, Your Highness,” blurted the brunette, just short of begging. Her two friends nodded hastily in agreement. “There’s just, so little public information about you, and no one outside of the palace knows of your appearance and apart from the white hair…” Her panicked explanation trailed off into ashamed silence as (Y/N) kept her gaze fixed steadily on the girl.

Internally, (Y/N) winced. No matter how often she hears it, it will never not sting. She could almost finish the rest of the girl’s thought: Apart from the white hair, you don’t have the tell-tale eyes. Shouldn’t the princess have those?

It made her wonder if it had been the wrong choice, ditching her blindfold. Would they be the same as the council back home? Would they refute her legitimacy to serve them because of her oddity?

As for their apology, (Y/N) paid no heed to it. The sincerity was lacking in both quality and meaning. She knew well enough that they were not sorry for their actions, but rather sorry to be caught in the act. Apologies were nothing more than recited lines, a means of wheedling their way out of trouble. 

(Y/N) scoffed sharply at the notion, causing the three ladies to stiffen in fear. 

“Of course,” she began, trying her best to maintain what she thought was a convincing smile, “I can understand all that. Though, I do believe it’s quite unfair to judge people purely through speculations. Why, I would say that I’m hardly ailing from sickness. I’m as healthy as ever.” 

The blonde girl looked as though she might be sick as she squeaked: “Certainly, Your Highness. It appears that we’ve been blinded by the rumors.”

“But you believe the rumors to be a correct reflection of the people’s perception of me?” (Y/N) tried, raising a questioning brow.

The three ladies shared a look, and (Y/N) could see but not decode the unspoken conversation traveling between them. As seconds ticked away, (Y/N) could feel the gradual increase in the pace of her heart, thudding heavily against her rib cage.

The lady with the curls was the only one to speak up. (Y/N) noticed that out of the three, she seemed to be the least unapologetic; she didn’t know if it was from years of entitlement or if that was naturally her personality. 

“The people are merely curious, Your Highness. They mean no malice. You have had no presence in the political sphere or high society, not even so much as a public appearance since your debut. And even then, you were barely present,” she returned (Y/N)’s gaze, her light brown eyes no longer betraying signs of fear, “I would know, for I was in attendance.”

Another jab, another internal wince as (Y/N) realized she herself couldn’t even recall what her debutante ball had been like. Unaware, the lady continued:

“While many are indeed doubtful regarding your capabilities, no one in this duchy wishes you any harm. We are loyal to His Grace and grateful for his dedication, so we have no ill meaning towards you by extension.”

“And yet you feel that it is acceptable to make a mockery of His Grace,” (Y/N) interjected, watching as the girl fought back a sneer. Her lackeys both breathed in sharply, then promptly went back to cowering in silence. “Quite the way to display your loyalty, my lady.”

“Perhaps you’d like to know that, Your Grace, when your engagement was made public, it came as a shock to us all,” the lady continued with a noticeable bite in her tone, “It was known that His Grace had no intentions to marry. He’s rejected even the most prestigious lady in the duchy. Naturally, when it was announced the two of you would be wed with no explanation, the people could only create their own. Hence the rumor that the two of you have been courting in secret since childhood.”

It was certainly, to say the least, a revelation. But to know that Megumi had already denied a marriage proposal once before was not on (Y/N)’s checklist. If he could decline one, why hadn’t he done so again?

Because this one came from the king.

The answer came easier than she’d liked. For the first time, it finally occurred to (Y/N) that Megumi was just as equally a victim in this arranged marriage. All that bitterness she’d ever harbored towards him for his prior involvement was unwarranted. Caught up in her own anger, she’d ignored his entirely and hadn’t even considered his point of view.

“Oh, come to think of it, that is true,” the brunette chirped out of the blue. “The Kurusu house had extended a proposal to His Grace before. I can see why the people might understand your marriage as a result of secret courtship.”

The mention of a new name piqued (Y/N)’s interest, effectively canceling out her guilt for the time being.

“Kurusu? But that house was left without a head following the marquess’s death.”

“Yes, but with no sons, the marquess’s only daughter inherited the position. Lady Hana has been marchioness for almost two years now. She’s yet to accomplish anything noteworthy herself, but they’re considered influential in the duchy.”

This conversation was proving to be rather useful; (Y/N) had learned more than she had originally bargained for. She wasn’t so much concerned about the potential rival she’d just gained, but more so interested in how this Hana figure might influence the duchy. As the trio of ladies withdrew into their own whispered conversations again, she swept her gaze over each one, studying and memorizing their features. It was one thing to recognize major nobilities as they’re always represented through portraits in readings. But with minor nobles who held only titles with little power, it was easier to recognize their family names than by their faces. 

Her time here had served its purpose. (Y/N) didn’t expect them to tell her anything else now that they were wary of their every word. But it would be beneficial to her socially if she were able to maintain connections with these girls; while she felt bad doing so, she needed inconspicuous entry into the duchy’s societal network. 

But first, (Y/N) needed to leave, before their combined muttering drove her up the walls. With an exaggerated flourish, she clasped her hands before her chest, successfully drawing the girls’ attention back to her. 

“My, where are my manners? I’ve yet to ask any of you for your names.”

Nervous looks shifted from one to the other, before the lady with the caramel curls rolled her eyes, taking the initiative once again. 

“I’m Nanako, and this is my sister Mimiko,” she motioned at the girl with the straight brunette bob, “From the Hasaba house.”

“I’m Momo, from the Nishimiya house,” said the blonde, still yet to have regained color in her face. (Y/N) frowned to herself; it really must’ve been a shock to her. 

“It’s been a pleasure, my ladies,” (Y/N) said, rising from her seat. “As I adjust to my new role, I hope to receive your support. Thank you for accommodating me into your tea time.” 

She’d already planted both feet on the ground and turned away, ready to return to Yuuji and Nobara, when Momo’s voice stopped her in her tracks. 

“And our offense, Your Highness?”

It was a meek plea, one laced with hope and optimism. (Y/N) turned over her shoulder just enough to catch Momo’s eyes. She let out a soft laugh, waving her hand as she tugged her hood back over her head. What other response could she give in such a position?

“Consider it forgiven,” (Y/N) replied, not even waiting to hear their responses. Her smile dropped immediately once she was covered once again. Forgiven on the surface, but she knew that deep down, she’d never forget the dismissive and brazen way they’d discussed her and Megumi. 

By the time she’d sat back down at her own table, Nobara was practically seething, gnawing furiously on her fork. Across from her, Yuuji wore an anxious frown, unsure who to address first.

“What did they say to you? If they said anything unseemly, I'll strangle them. Ugh, I should’ve gone with you.” 

(Y/N) regarded her with amusement, “Now that’s equally as unseemly. Don’t fret, I’ve settled it.”

“Is there anything we’d be able to do?” Yuuji asked, prying the fork from Nobara’s hand, paying no attention to the way she scowled at him. (Y/N) noticed that the plates of dessert before them had been scarfed down, leaving only hers intact. Like clockwork, Yuuji placed a fork on her plate without being asked. He offered her a brief smile as she caught him in the act, which only grew larger as she mouthed “thank you” in response.

As she dug into her cake—it was a delightfully sweet honey flavor—(Y/N) shook her head. Nobara was mad enough as it was, and Yuuji was someone who would refuse to sit idly if given the opportunity. She did, however, have one question she’d been itching to ask. 

“Nobara, what do you know about Kurusu Hana?”

“Who?” Nobara wore a look of confusion, brows furrowed. But out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw Yuuji tense. 

(Y/N) frowned, her head tilted to the side. “Kurusu Hana. I heard that His Grace once received a marriage proposal from her.” 

A second or two passed before Nobara shook her head in defeat, “If you know of her name, then you probably know about as much as I do. I’ve only been here for a year myself, and since my grandma’s lands were further out in the countryside, there are still a lot of nobles I’ve yet to meet. You’d have to ask Fushiguro himself if you’re curious about her,” she punctuated her sentence with a snort, “If he’d tell you anything.”

Another surprise. (Y/N) was sure from the way Nobara navigated the streets that she must’ve resided in the castle for longer. Evidently, it was just her ability to adapt. Seeing that Nobara wouldn’t have any answers for her, (Y/N) turned towards her last resort. 

But she was greeted by the side of Yuuji’s head. He’d turned away nearly completely in an effort to avoid her questioning, eyes shifting indiscreetly—was he sweating? It went without saying that he clearly knew something, but was unwilling to share. It didn’t take much contemplation for (Y/N) to decide it wasn’t worth grilling him about it. 

She’d figure it out herself, one step at a time.

“I heard about your little confrontation on your outing today.”

At the sound of Megumi’s voice, (Y/N) poked her head up from behind the massive book she’d been buried in. They’d arrived back at the castle by sunset as promised, and after a hearty dinner, she’d confined herself to their chambers. With nothing else to do, (Y/N) had tried her luck at Megumi’s library, only to find that his collection consisted of nothing except nonfiction text when she fancied the opposite. 

It was currently nearing midnight when Megumi had finally retired back to their chambers, looking arguably more tired than a man returning from war. His hair was somehow even more messy than it had been, and dark circles similar to Yuuta’s ringed his eyes. His shirt collar was unbuttoned underneath his vest and the tie she’d seen him with this morning had been loosened, hanging defeatedly around his neck. A pang of sympathy struck (Y/N)’s heart as she studied him, which then quickly escalated into a thud as she watched him begin to shed his layers of clothing.

“Have some decency, Your Grace,” (Y/N) muttered, ducking her head as she brought her book over her face again. Was this the same person from last night who’d been flustered at the mere thought of sharing a bed? Had he no shame to be undressing like so before her very eyes?

“...What?” Megumi’s voice was gruff and sounded a little closer than she’d preferred. (Y/N)’s head spun. All that paperwork must’ve made him irritable. 

What was his question again? Oh, right. Her confrontation.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, lasering in on the words before her but couldn’t process the jumble of writing.

“How did you hear about that?”

She already had an inkling about who it might be; it would make the most sense that Yuuji was reporting back to him.

There was some shuffling, during which Megumi either refused to speak or hadn’t thought of what to say. She’d almost suspected that he’d forgotten she was there until she felt a weight sinking onto the other side of the bed. The line of pillows separating them remained on the bed, neatly rearranged by (Y/N). 

He responded with a dry laugh, tucking himself into bed with heavy limbs.

“I suppose you could take a guess. And likely be right.”

Feeling that it was safe to look now, (Y/N) lowered her book to frown at him. Megumi was lying on his back, one arm slung across his face, and thankfully fully dressed. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed, though she was able to tell the exhaustion on his face regardless.

“...Was this all the work left over from the week you spent in the capital?” 

He didn’t answer, but he did bring his arm down. (Y/N) started when she saw that his eyes were indeed open, though they stared blankly at the ceiling above them. What was going on through his mind right now? She’d been waiting for him to return for the sake of asking him some questions, though it hardly felt appropriate given his current state. Maybe it was better to try again tomorrow.

“It was. Since both the count and I were away at the palace, there was no one to see to them,” Megumi paused, this time closing his eyes. (Y/N) worried he was about to fall asleep on her, but he continued to speak. “Don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault.”

His reassurance, even if a little brash, sparked warmth in her heart. He could’ve easily lamented and complained to her, could’ve easily used her as a scapegoat for anger. Instead, choosing to bear the brunt of it all by himself only reinforced the kindness she saw in him. This was no monster; this was a man with a broken childhood and burdens too strong for someone as young as him. It reminded her of herself but at the same time, he was so different from her. 

“When do you intend to give me official duties?” (Y/N) murmured, setting her book aside on the nightstand beside her pillow. When she turned back to face him, Megumi’s eyes had sprung open once again, this time to peer at her. In the dim candlelight, it was hard to discern his expression, so precariously balanced between incredulity and intrigue.

“Is that what you want?”

She shrugged, unsure how to word her desire to help. “If you’d allow me. It appears that the people are skeptical as to whether I am fit for the role of Grand Duchess.”

His brows knitted together as he frowned. “Are you asking for work to prove otherwise? Or do you intend to truly improve their lives?”

At his question, (Y/N) gave him a sad smile. “I suppose in order to do the former, I’d first have to accomplish the latter. Or, Your Grace, has it occurred to you that perhaps I’m asking to benefit you?”

Megumi seemed to mull over her question, before heaving a sigh in defeat. “Fine, I’ll look into what I can assign you.”

Against her will, (Y/N) broke out into a smile. His immediate willingness to give her an opportunity was more than she’d expected, and the very idea that he’d even said yes meant he saw some kind of potential within her. And that was more than enough motivation for her. Before she could get carried away in her excitement, however, a part of her brain reminded her of what she’d been itching to know. 

“Before I forget, Your Grace, may I ask you one more thing?”

“What is it?”

“Is it true that you rejected a marriage proposal from Lady Hana?” (Y/N) stopped in her tracks, lips pursed in contemplation, “Though I suppose her title would be Marchioness Kurusu now.”

That was the wrong thing to ask apparently, as Megumi promptly averted his gaze, turning onto his side to face away from her. He left (Y/N) to stare daggers into his back, willing for him to turn back around so that they’d resolve the conversation like adults. 

“Your Grace.”

No answer. This again?

“Fushiguro.” 

He responded by yanking the blankets over his ears, surprising a yelp out of (Y/N). She huffed angrily, but there was no way to retaliate if she didn’t want to get physical. So be it then. If he didn’t want to speak about it, then she wouldn’t pry. Mumbling under her breath, (Y/N) burrowed herself under the blanket, pulling it towards her for good measure but cursing when it didn’t budge. She turned onto her side, facing the figure that was her husband.

Her husband. That was such an odd thing to think. If you asked her, (Y/N) would say that they were no closer than acquaintances who happened to share the same bed and room. It made her wonder if things would've been different if they'd been engaged since they were children. Would their relationship have been the same had they met under different circumstances?

The familiarity of that question confused (Y/N). It was as though she’d asked someone it word for word before, but she couldn’t recall to who. Had she ever spoken that question aloud to anyone? 

As she stared at the back of Megumi’s head, she realized that his reaction only left her with a list of even longer questions. To begin, what was the story behind him and Kurusu Hana to provoke such a volatile reaction? She firmly believed that they couldn’t have been lovers; it would be virtually impossible given Megumi’s timeline. Perhaps an old friend, and they’d fallen out after he’d denied the marriage proposal. But his reaction felt as though there was more to it that she was not understanding. There was a bigger picture here that (Y/N) was missing. 

When Megumi turned towards her without warning, (Y/N) hastily backed up, bracing herself in case he was preparing to reprimand her. It wasn’t until a moment after that she realized her worry was unnecessary: Megumi was out cold. In her astonishment, (Y/N) could only blink. Was that possible? The exhaustion must’ve caught up to him from how fast he’d managed to fall asleep. 

He looked…harmless. The temper that seemed carved into his brows was gone, smoothed out and leaving him with a relaxed expression that felt unnatural on him. His lips were still drawn into a frown, but not one caused by weariness or exasperation. Her gaze traveled down to Megumi’s hands, one outstretched while the other was tucked closer to his chest, wrapped tightly in a fist. The outstretched hand was slightly curled, his slender fingers twitching slightly in his sleep. His breathing was slow, barely audible. (Y/N) had to fight the urge to sweep his bangs away from his eyes; they looked like they were pricking him, though he showed no discomfort. 

She smothered a chuckle at the thought. Never before would she have imagined being here, facing the Grand Duke of all people in such an intimate setting. It made her wonder if he was in her place, would he be doing the same? A part of her seemed to know he’d already done so. 

A memory, fuzzy but definitely recent, paraded into her mind. She saw the fountain back home in her gardens and remembered the taste of strawberry on her lips and someone’s warmth sheltering her from the night breeze.

How had she never thought of it? Of course, he’d been the one to bring her back to her chambers. There’d been no one else around that night, how else had she expected to return to her bed? It was all too funny in hindsight, embarrassing but entertaining.

“You’re all bark and no bite, Your Grace,” (Y/N) whispered tauntingly, poking the palm of his hand with one finger. “You keep up this facade of being nonchalant and dismissive when you care more than you’d like to admit.”

He stirred in his sleep, and (Y/N) immediately bit back her next words. Had she woken him up? Did he hear her? But Megumi continued to snooze and she was finally able to let out the breath she’d been holding in. Maybe that was enough for the night. She was also feeling rather worn out from running around all day. 

(Y/N) made to withdraw her hand from his, when Megumi’s hand suddenly grasped onto hers. She gaped at the sudden motion, straining to pull herself away. But the hold he had on her was unyielding. Panic began to settle in. It was one thing last night to sleep hand in hand because she’d asked to, but given how they'd ended their night today, she didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings in the morning. 

But he wouldn’t budge. He was clutching onto her hand as though his life depended on it, effectively trapping her. Megumi must be dreaming, she reasoned with herself. But what was he dreaming of to be holding onto her so tightly?

When it was clear that he didn’t intend to let her go, (Y/N) let out a groan but relented. So she’d have to explain in the morning, better than waking him here and now. 

Besides, it was a lot easier to sleep this way. 

Chapter Text

He was home again.

Not the Fushiguro castle, where it felt as though the halls were damp from the tears of weeping departed souls. Where everything was gray, gray, gray, except on the days that winter generously dusted the roofs with snow. 

No, this was home, where he and his parents lived, just the three of them. This was the secluded haven he grew up in, where demons and kings alike had yet to get their claws on him. Home was their family’s lakeside villa, where the rooms were vibrant with colors because that’s what his mother insisted upon. The villa, where flowers were kept year-round as decorations, where his mother read to him every night, where his father taught him how to swim.

The lakeside villa that had been sitting vacant for years since the death of his mother, yet where his strongest memories remained.

But his mother was sitting right beside him. Alive and well. A benevolent smile crinkled the corners of her eyes as she pulled her son in her arms. She wore happiness like it were clothing and it complemented her so perfectly, it was hard to envision any other emotion on her. 

How could this be? She was dead, been dead for nearly fifteen years. Yet here she was before him, radiating the same warmth and liveliness that only a living person could possess.

His mother was talking excitedly, waving her hands in animated motions as she did so. But with great disappointment, Megumi realized he couldn’t understand what she was saying. It all sounded as though she was far away, muffled underwater. He tried to read the words from her lips, but it proved to be futile. 

Why can’t I hear what you’re saying, Mother? What is it that you’re trying to tell me?

Out of the blue, she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, holding him with a might that he’d been unaware she’d been capable of. Something wet dripped down his neck, followed by another droplet, and another. 

His mother, who never showed an ounce of sadness in front of him, was crying. 

Megumi was suddenly six years old again as he balled his hands into fists, tightly clutching onto her shirt, unwilling to let go. He felt akin to a turtle without his shell, vulnerable and defenseless. The walls he’d spent years building around his heart crumbled within the seconds spent in her arms. It had been so long since he’d last seen her, and so distinctively clear at that. There’d been countless nights when he’d dreamt of his belated mother but none where her features were coherent. They were always from afar and she’d never acknowledged his existence.

He missed her. 

So what if this was a dream? So what if the dead couldn't return to the living? A moment by her side, even if it meant nothing in reality, meant everything to him. A person lost to time can’t be lost to memories, and Megumi was determined to hold on to his until the end of his life. 

Yet the comfort was brief and his mother was already pulling away, cupping his face in her hands. Her movements were frantic, as though she was running out of time. 

“Megumi,” she breathed, startling him in the process. He could hear her. “Megumi, stop searching for your father. Take care of yourself, take care of her. Promise me.”

How had she known that he was looking for her husband? Tears continued to well in her eyes, and Megumi could feel an unfamiliar prickle of pain in his own. He opened his mouth to tell her—tell her what? He couldn’t agree with what she was asking of him; there were things that he needed to get done, things that were necessary to make up for all that he’s suffered through. He needed to find his father so that he could atone for the crime of abandoning his children. 

And who was the “her” that she was referring to?

No words were spoken, however. His throat constricted, as though his dream insisted on suffocating him. At the very least, he wanted to tell her that he missed her. But his consciousness refused to grant him that freedom, leaving him to curse at the wretchedness of it all.

No greater torture existed than having the person you've missed for years right before you, yet unable to convey your regrets and wishes.

As tears blurred his vision, so did his mother’s face. Her smile slowly began distorting, and then her face was the first to fade, followed by her arms. It was terrifying, watching a person disappear little by little. Eventually, she was gone once again. He tried grasping at the wisps that remained, not even paying attention to the dissolving landscape around him. A pain resonated in his chest, a dull throbbing sensation that threatened to cave into his lungs. 

And then it was all over as Megumi forced himself to peel his eyes open. Replacing his mother’s blue-green eyes was (Y/N)’s gaze, full of worry and pity. She laid on her side, one hand outstretched and catching the tear that’d rolled past his nose bridge. Behind her, the sun had just broken dawn, its golden light seeping in past the curtains. 

He shut his eyes again. Was this another layer of his dream?

But the unmistakable warmth of her fingers against his cheek was evidence enough that this was real. 

His eyes snapped open, and simultaneously, the both of them jumped back. Megumi promptly sat up, and (Y/N) followed suit, her hand frantically waving in the air defensively. He could almost see the inner workings of her brain, churning to find her words to explain herself. 

“What are you doing?” He rasped, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“It’s not what it looks like!” She protested at the same time. 

But then his gaze and hers dropped to their still intertwined hands, which she immediately released. Megumi’s stomach twisted. Had he done something unbecoming in his sleep? If his memory served him right, they hadn't gone to sleep holding hands. 

(Y/N) lowered her head, avoiding his gaze entirely.

“...I woke up to you muttering in your sleep, and then you started to cry. It was a bit worrying but I didn't know whether to wake you or not."

At this, he wiped at his eyes and as she’d said, the back of his hand came away with leftover tears. Megumi grimaced. How should he explain this? Could he explain it? He’d never confided in anyone about the loss of his mother, and he had yet to reach that level of comfort around her. He was reminded of the way he’d shot down her question last night about Hana and cringed internally; that was yet another experience that he found uncomfortable to relive.

“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) offered, choosing to pick at her fingers instead of meeting his eyes. This seemed to be a habit of hers, Megumi noted. More frequently when she was nervous and understandably so, seeing that his reaction may have frightened her. Now that the grogginess of sleep had worn off, he was able to take in the sight of her messy bedhead and the tint of red in her ears. She must've just woken up herself, as she looked no more awake than he did. He almost felt bad knowing what she'd been greeted with first thing in the morning.

Megumi sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. “No, it’s alright.”

She had that look on her face that always preceded a question: the scrunch in her brows accompanied by a wavering frown. He knew what she wanted to ask, but he also knew that he didn't want to answer them. (Y/N) must've been thinking the same from how hard she was trying to restrain herself.

“...Let’s not talk about this right now,” he told her, “I know you’re curious, but I’ll explain another time.”

(Y/N) nodded hesitantly in response, her queries still written all over her face. A small smile tugged at the corner of Megumi’s lips, though he forced it down. He was growing a soft spot for (Y/N) faster than he'd anticipated. It bothered him, though shockingly not in an unnerving way. Perhaps the day he’d be able to disclose his past to her would be sooner than he knew. 

Before the clock had even struck noon, the weather took a turn for the worse. What started as a sunny morning quickly became dreary as brooding gray clouds overtook the originally blue sky. With them came torrents of rain that showed no sign of stopping.

(Y/N) stood before the window outside of her and Megumi’s bed chamber. It overlooked the front courtyard of the castle, allowing her to cast the gloomy weather a disappointed pout. She’d wanted to familiarize herself with the layout of the castle grounds today, only to find her plans foiled by the ever-changing mood that was the northern weather. 

“Your Highness,” (Y/N) dejectedly turned her head over her shoulder as Nobara spoke from behind her, “I fear that moping in front of the window won’t make the rain leave any faster.” Her remark was sarcastic, but (Y/N) saw sympathy in the way Nobara smiled at her. 

(Y/N) sighed. Nobara was right; rather than stand around and bemoan her situation, she was better off directing all that effort elsewhere. The issue was where, seeing that Megumi had holed himself up in the office once again but had not sent for her. While she may have been keen to remain locked away in her room back home, the mystery of the Fushiguro castle was inviting her to explore.

One person was missing, however, and she finally decided to address his absence. 

“I’ve yet to see Yuuji all morning. Where is he?” She asked, trying her best to keep her tone casual. It was a normal request, she tried to convince herself. After all, a personal knight can’t carry out his job from afar. 

In reality, (Y/N) was shaken by the new distance between her and Yuuji. It was such a stark difference to develop in the span of two days. Not to mention, (Y/N) realized with a sickening flip of her heart, that she’d hardly spared him a second thought last night before bed. It was as though she’d already adjusted to his absence, or to put it differently, she’d already unconsciously replaced him with Megumi. Neither explanation felt morally right to her. 

The revelation weighed on her like a sack of bricks; what did this mean for the years of suppressed emotions she’d held onto?

“I was told that since the troops had returned from expedition, Yuuji joined them for sparring.” This time, Nobara was the one to sigh. “Though ‘joined’ is a generous way of putting it. I would say he was more or less coerced. It isn't every day that they get seasoned recruits from the capitol.”

The troops, the soldiers. A harrowing shiver traveled down (Y/N)’s spine, setting off the goosebumps along her arm. The Grand Duchy was one of two territories besides the central monarchy that was allowed a militia.

The other was the Zenin clan's archduchy.

If her opinion counted for anything, (Y/N) believed that the very notion of it was a double-edged sword. By allowing for two other sovereigns to build their own military, it ensured a diverse selection of support in times of war. In times of rebellion, however, they posed as nothing more than threats to the monarchy. She was sure that her ancestors had only the first idea in mind when they'd instated the decree but it worried her to know that would take only one ambitious and power-hungry lord to throw the kingdom into turmoil. 

She shuddered at the prospect of a potential war led by Zenin Naoya at the helm. No one would be spared. 

(Y/N) tore herself away from the window, the hem of her dress quietly sweeping on the ground as she spun on her heel to face Nobara. Enough of this grotesque daydreaming. 

“Let’s go take a look.”

She was met with raised brows.

“That’s…not a place appropriate for a lady, Your Highness.”

“Nonsense. You mean to tell me you're concerned with what is appropriate for a lady?”

(Y/N)’s tease provoked a laugh from Nobara, which (Y/N) received with a grin unbefitting her elegant image.

“I guess a peek won't hurt. I should warn you though, it gets gnarly.”

With Nobara in the lead, (Y/N) followed her out of their chamber hall, past the officers’ quarters, and away from the empty tea rooms and lounges. (Y/N) frowned to herself as they passed by; why leave a room vacant if they could be put to use? They descended the main staircase that led to the castle’s main foyer, before making their way towards a hall opposite what she knew to be the kitchen and scullery. Unlike the other halls of the castle, this particular one had a damp, mildew smell, lit only by torchlight as the stone walls were void of windows. A singular set of enormous doors sat at the end, and (Y/N) caught a whiff of the iron-like smell of mingling sweat and blood. She swallowed her nerves. Did sparring usually entail bleeding?

She hoped that Yuuji was unharmed. 

As Nobara threw open the doors, the ruckus behind them became louder and more apparent. (Y/N) was momentarily blinded when light flooded her view as they stepped through the doorway. Since having decided to permanently forgo her blindfold, (Y/N) found herself having a harder time adjusting to the change in lighting.

When she was able to see again, she was taken aback to find themselves on a landing that overlooked what were the training grounds. 

It was a sprawling mass of space, carved from the same sand-colored stone as the castle but in a circular structure. Fine sand covered the ground, occasional blotches of red staining the otherwise beige expanse. The ceiling extended far above their reach in an overarching structure, the windows at the very top allowed them a view of the unrelenting rain showers. Against the rowdy cheers and taunts, one could hardly distinguish the pitter-patter of rain. On the outer edge of the grounds were what looked to be remains of spectator seats, divided and stacked atop each other in tiers. (Y/N) had a faint suspicion that this had once been an arena, only having been converted into a training ground for practicality. Wooden practice dummies and weapon racks could be found everywhere, precariously set up without any rigid organization. Individuals were gathered in a ring, spectating an ongoing spar. Many of the soldiers were bare-chested; if not, their sleeves were rolled up to reveal their upper arms.

It wasn’t until after she’d approached the banister railing at the edge of the landing that (Y/N) realized who was sparring.

Yuuji, with an incredibly real sword in hand, against Maki, who was pressing in towards him with a wickedly sharp polearm that she swung around as though it weighed no lighter than a feather. 

It didn’t take an expert to tell who was winning: Yuuji’s expression and actions were visibly strained as he tried to keep up with Maki’s unforgiving speed and agility. They must've caught them right towards the end of the match, seeing how worn out the knight was. 

“He's done for,” was Nobara’s somber conclusion as she finished surveying the situation. Her expression teetered somewhere between sympathy and disappointment.

“Oh, Yuuji…” (Y/N) mumbled sadly, both hands wrapped tightly on the iron railing as she leaned into it. She herself had not an ounce of experience with the art of swordsmanship, but even she could tell that his choice of weapon had put him at an obvious disadvantage. Yet, while a part of her pitied Yuuji, a different part of her lauded the captain of the guard. The respect that (Y/N) had for Maki increased. The way she moved, and the confidence in how she struck, displayed years of dedication and hard work. She was sure that Maki must've had her fair share of obstacles; after all, women were not regarded heavily in the military, and especially so when you were a noble lady from birth.

In a way, (Y/N) felt envious. Maki was every bit of the warrior that she could only dream to be, but that was a culmination of no one else's faults but her own. 

The ring erupted into more cheering as Maki drove the butt of her polearm into Yuuji’s back, knocking him towards the ground face first. His comically exaggerated fall sent a cloud of sand into the air before he rolled over onto his back in a coughing fit. (Y/N) clenched the bar beneath her hands, fighting the urge to run down there herself. She knew he’d never resent Maki for the beatdown, and would instead use it as a reason to better himself, but it still hurt regardless to see him in such a state.

For quite a bit, Yuuji remained on the ground, gasping and wheezing for air. All the while Maki and the rest of her soldiers were hovering around him, showering him with praises and criticism alike. When his gaze found hers by accident, the pain was instantly replaced with surprise before it melted into a fond smile. Even against the bruises and cuts, Yuuji mustered a little wave in (Y/N)’s direction. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, though she did return his wave.  

No matter where, no matter when, his first priority was always to assuage her.

“Ow! Your Highness!”

“Stay still, Yuuji!”

They were sitting on the couch in Megumi’s office, (Y/N) trying to tend to Yuuji’s collection of injuries while the latter tried to dodge the ointment she held in her hand. She and Nobara had collected him from the training grounds, during which (Y/N) received more fascinated looks than Yuuji liked. His fellow soldiers were eyeing her up as though they were unaware of her existence and for whatever reason, it offended him when they took too long to acknowledge her. 

Thoroughly embarrassed with the beatdown he’d received, Yuuji had asked to be given some time to make himself presentable. He had purposely made sure to emphasize the "alone" aspect of his request. In the past, (Y/N) had always dressed his injuries for him whenever he returned to her side from training. Not because he would ask for it, but because she'd insist upon it and he couldn't bear to say no. But that was the princess, and it had happened in private. This was now the Grand Duchess asking, and he couldn't possibly allow for it in front of the duke himself.

True to her stubborn nature, however, (Y/N) managed to coax him and of course, he'd relented. 

Every so often, Yuuji would shoot a flustered look in Megumi’s direction, though he was always met with impassiveness. In fact, he could count on one hand how many times Megumi had looked up from his desk in the time they’d been there. Some would say Yuuji was overthinking the situation. No one else had even so much as bat an eye; Yuuta and Nobara in particular seemed more entertained than offended.  

“I told her she could just let you bleed,” Nobara remarked from the opposite end of the couch, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She was lounging with a fashion catalog in hand, though whether she was actually reading was debatable. “A pity that Her Highness is too kind of a soul.”

While Yuuji shot her a displeased pout, (Y/N) smeared more of the icy cold ointment into a cut above his eyebrow that he hadn’t even been aware of, and he yowled with pain. 

“Your Highness, please. Take that away. I’ll be fine.” He shrank away from the princess, his frame barely fitting in the corner of the couch he’d forced himself into. The frustrated look on (Y/N)’s face was hard for him to stomach, but another second of whatever minty herbs were in that cream might send him out the window in an act of defenestration. 

Though the mortifying reality that she’d watched him getting cornered and thrown around like a rag doll hurt more than any bruise or cut could. He hated himself for it; it made him worry that in dire straits, he’d never be able to save her as he was supposed to. But that was why he’d even agreed to spar with the captain, to begin with. To get stronger, so that should there ever be such a time, he’d be able to protect her properly.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't just for (Y/N), however. It was partly for himself.

These past two nights had been tortuous with dreams of childhood memories from when things were happier. Normally, Yuuji would wake feeling refreshed from the idea that those times had existed but recently, it was a grim reminder of what he needed to preserve. 

But then he was afraid of being around her for too long. Being in her vicinity made him want to linger and stay when he’d already made up his mind that she needed the push in Megumi’s direction. He’d drawn his line in the sand, and on his honor, he needed to stand behind it. He didn't necessarily perceive Megumi as a rival, not that Yuuji had the right to, given that he was the third party. By no means was Yuuji resigning his feelings for (Y/N), but he needed to keep them to himself, as he'd always done. That was the next best thing he could do to reduce the heartache of everyone involved. Because he’d caught the glances Megumi would cast in (Y/N)’s direction, always when she wasn’t aware. Or the immediate spark of interest in his eyes when her name was mentioned, as much as he wanted to hide it. But there was no hiding from Yuuji because it was all too familiar to him. He imagined it was the same way he’d look at (Y/N). 

Who was now preparing to chastise him, he could see her brewing up her words, when a knock at the door interrupted the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Throughout the room, looks were shared, mostly of curiosity as the doors began to open. A properly uniformed Maki stepped through the doorway, the heels of her boots clicking loudly on the marble floors. In stark contrast to Yuuji, she didn’t have so much as a scratch on her. He’d been mindful in his strikes, not that he would’ve landed any of them to begin with. In fact, had he not been on the receiving end himself, he wouldn’t have even guessed that she’d been intensely training mere minutes ago. 

“Captain,” Megumi nodded, putting down his pen as she approached his desk, a stack of papers tucked under her arm. Maki returned his greeting with a salute, though it felt more like a tease than anything. Yuuji had picked up on the mannerisms throughout Megumi's entourage: they all seemed overly unconcerned by his position, treating him flippantly as though he was not their superior but rather their younger brother. For someone born into a military family such as his, Yuuji couldn't fathom the behavior. If his grandfather were still alive, he'd be livid.

But Yuuji was not his grandfather, and he rather enjoyed the easygoing dynamics here. 

“Here’s the most recent report from our scouts into the northern border situation,” Maki stated, handing over a good chunk of the papers in her possession. The relaxed stance she held herself with led Yuuji to believe that perhaps it was good news being relayed. 

But Megumi’s reaction made Yuuji double down on that conclusion. He watched as Megumi’s frown grew even more solemn as he accepted the pile of parchment, his eyes skimming rapidly as he flipped through the first several pages. Whatever was written within those pages must’ve been stressful though not urgent; Megumi didn’t spare it another look as he set it aside.

With one hand, he motioned to the two pieces of parchment still in Maki’s hands. 

“And those?”

“A report made to one of our patrols from the city center,” Maki replied, sliding the two pieces of paper onto his desk before clasping her hands together behind her back. “Regarding the orphanage.”

This elicited a look of confusion from Megumi.

“Made to and not by our patrols?”

Yuuji could’ve sworn he saw her brow twitch at the question. As though she couldn't believe that Megumi was interested in the wrong point. But to her credit, Maki remained calm.

“I would treat it as an informal complaint rather than a report, Your Grace. It appears that several of the caretakers have been concerned about the debilitating condition in parts of the facilities and have been asking for donations from the townspeople. Some concerned locals left this with an officer in hopes that you’d be able to address this. It's dated to about a week ago.”

Next to him, (Y/N) perked up in interest, although she was doing an awful job at disguising it. She kept herself busy organizing and then rearranging the medicine box she’d terrorized Yuuji with, her attention obviously elsewhere. He studied her, wondering why the issue struck her fancy. If he had to guess, it likely had something to do with yesterday's conversation at the bakery; something about (Y/N) had been noticeably different since they’d left town. 

Megumi appeared to be on the same wavelength, however, as Yuuji caught yet another glance that he shot at the princess. His gaze kept flitting back and forth from (Y/N) to the paper, as though he was fighting a debate within himself.

“It must've happened while I was gone in the capitol," he mused as he scanned the writing. "Nothing else of concern? No one injured or the like?” Megumi asked after a long pause of contemplation.

Maki responded with a shake of her head. This seemed to affirm whatever decision Megumi had come to in his mind. 

So when he rose from his desk and made his way toward the rest of them, Yuuji and (Y/N) shared a look. His in bewilderment and hers in realization. She was just short of jumping with joy as she scrambled up from her seat, standing toe-to-toe with Megumi as he extended the report to her. Behind him, both Yuuta and Maki were craning their heads to watch, while Nobara was rolling her eyes at Megumi’s theatrics. Yuuji alone felt like an outsider to the conversation. Was he missing something that everyone else had already figured out?

“I'll entrust this to you, Your Highness."

Oh. Things clicked in Yuuji's mind, and it was so blatant that he felt stupid. Of course (Y/N) was waiting for official duties. Even from childhood, she'd always yearned for an opportunity to prove herself. It was why she'd insisted that Satoru teach her what he could about ruling, and why she took pride in even the littlest of contributions she was allowed to make.

"I'll see to it with my utmost effort, Your Grace."

She was practically glowing as she accepted the papers from Megumi. He could tell (Y/N) was fighting back a smile, and the very sight flooded Yuuji with affection. He's known it since childhood, but seeing it in person reminded him again: (Y/N) was the most beautiful to him when doing what made her happy. The intensity with which she radiated brilliance when putting her abilities where it mattered will never fail to remind him why it had to be her. It wouldn't be long before she established her presence in the duchy, and the kingdom would soon follow.

She would be the one to make herself great, and Megumi and the people would learn to love her for it just as he had. 

All the more reason that he couldn't be beside her, but behind her. Always her shadow but never her support. 

Chapter Text

Time trickled on as the forests surrounding the Fushiguro castle began to shed their sunset colors. Winter was slowly tightening its vice on the duchy, but the gardens remained untouched. It was an uncanny sight: the leafy greens and effervescent varieties of flowers amidst the barren lands. They’d yet to witness any snow, much to (Y/N)’s disappointment; Megumi had to explain to her that the first snowfall typically occurred later in the month. 

Life began to grow a pattern, but not in the agonizingly lethargic way she’d led in the capitol. Although (Y/N)’s days followed a schedule, they were hardly ever rigid, thanks to Nobara and Yuuji. Their antics were never-ending and so were the trips into town. She would be there for official business and by default, they’d follow, albeit sometimes less than excited. Whereas the (Y/N) in the past may have refused to wander the palace, she now could be seen making rounds throughout the castle in her free time, memorizing names and faces as she did so. 

The entirety of the castle staff were incredibly doting on (Y/N), for reasons unbeknownst to her. The castle maids, in particular, had grown even more fond of the Grand Duchess. The first two weeks were more or less awkward as (Y/N) tried to adjust to the extensive amount of care and attention she was receiving. For someone who’d spent essentially her entire life being treated like air, it was as unsettling as it was healing. She was slowly slipping into her role, and it fit her like a snug little glove. 

Since being tasked with restoring the orphanage, (Y/N) had also inherited the other responsibilities of a grand duchess with great ease. She’d learned to manage the treasury and administer staff assignments. She’d also taken over correspondence with organizations and other noble houses. Within two weeks, (Y/N) had partial oversight of both external and internal affairs, formal and informal. But credit had to be given where it was due, and she knew it would’ve taken more effort had Satoru not imparted fundamental knowledge to her or if Yuuta and Megumi had been less efficient teachers. 

A month following their marriage, Megumi and (Y/N)’s relationship felt trapped within a stalemate. Unlike her and Yuuji, who’ve maintained nearly the same relationship, she and Megumi were like a constant game of never-ending chess. Some days, it felt as though they’d made advancements, one step closer to checkmate. On others, the two felt like they’d regressed to the start. She’d learned to reel in her curiosity when it came to Fushiguro Megumi. He was a man of many mysteries but little to no words. Yet, what he refused to say, his actions spoke for him—whether he intended to or not. The disparity of his words against the little details in his body language kept (Y/N) at just the right distance; even if she wanted to know him better, it was akin to cracking a boulder with her bare hands.

By the end of their first week together, Megumi had installed a personal desk for her within the office, just off to his side opposite Yuuta. When asked why, rather than assign her a smaller office, he reasoned that it made teaching her an easier task. 

Two weeks in, and the two had grown a habit of holding hands in their sleep. He had a reason for that too—he didn’t want to be woken by her in tears—but (Y/N) suspected that he found just as much comfort in the action as she did. They’d kept the pillow boundary, but (Y/N)’s restless sleeping almost always resulted in intertwined legs. The first morning they’d woken up to the sight, the two had taken turns babbling their apologies, abashed, then went on to avoid each other for the day. 

By the start of the third week, catching Megumi for a lighthearted conversation became even more rare than before. He grew increasingly busy as winter approached, frequently departing the castle before noon and returning once the sun had set. She’d wanted to update him on the development of the orphanage, perhaps even ask for his opinions. But when he’d return from his outings noticeably disheveled and weary, (Y/N) couldn’t find it in her heart to bother him. She could only hope that the outcome of all her efforts would come to fruition and one that would make him proud.

As the end of the month drew near, (Y/N) could no longer afford to pay attention to Megumi’s work. She had her fair share of errands to attend to. The reconstruction was going swimmingly, and because she had insisted on being present herself to supervise, (Y/N)’s time in and out of the castle soon rivaled Megumi’s. It was only deep into the evening, when the rest of the estate had started turning in for that night, that (Y/N) would concede to some time to wind down. 

Tonight, (Y/N) was the only one occupying the office. Megumi and Yuuta were nowhere to be found, and she’d dismissed Yuuji and Nobara once they’d returned from their daily trek to town. While it was true that (Y/N) was finally growing comfortable with the castle and its people, being left alone and unguarded still made her antsy. But Yuuji and Nobara had been trailing her since morning; she couldn’t bear to watch them soldier through their exhaustion anymore.

She heaved a sigh from the bottom of her heart, her inky scrawls on the parchment before her shifting back into focus. Her wrist was aching from the intensive amount of writing she’d done in the last couple of days, but for once, this was not an official document. 

It was a letter, addressed to Satoru, entailing her learnings and mishaps since arriving at the duchy.

The last couple of lines read:

Before you can accuse me of forgetting, I want to wish you a happy birthday, as does the duke. I was unable to prepare a more fitting gift, so I opted for these pastries instead. Megumi has been rather preoccupied lately, so this gift is on his behalf as well. This is non-negotiable, dear brother. I've taken great care in hand-selecting the sweets; do try to savor them rather than scarf them down. And please, spare Suguru’s share for himself. 

The pen in her hand paused as she considered a fitting ending to the letter, or if there was anything else she’d like to include.

Within the next week, her brother was turning twenty-eight. This would be the first birthday he’d ever spent without her by his side. The Gojo siblings had never been keen on celebrating their birthdays since childhood; they were hardly celebratory moments and even less so in the past decade. But despite that, their birthdays remained the two only days within a year when they were able to spend undisputed time together. 

(Y/N) rolled the pen between her fingers. How was Satoru feeling? Did he miss her, even in the slightest? Would he be proud to hear of what she’d been working on? Perhaps he didn’t want to hear from her, surely he was as busy as ever. It certainly felt that way, especially considering that this was their first exchange since her departure. 

She shook off her doubts. This was Satoru. Of course, he’d want to hear from her. 

Hesitantly, (Y/N) put pen back to paper:

Please extend my regards to the Itadori’s. Lady Kaori in particular would be relieved to hear that Yuuji and I are both faring well and that the duchy has been kind to us. We expect to visit soon for the new year, given that the weather allows for it. 

We miss you all dearly.

Her pen had just touched the surface of her desk when the office doors creaked open. (Y/N) didn’t know who to expect, so she was mildly surprised to find Megumi standing in the doorway. Still dressed in his uniform, still as tired as he’d left this morning. He was alone, he must’ve dismissed Yuuta already. With one hand still on the door handle, he watched her with an expression she couldn’t quite discern. It was one of intrigue or…perhaps one of admiration. There was a slight tension in his jaw that she recognized was a sign of him holding back a smile. A warm sensation crawled up her neck and into her earlobes.

For some reason, the silence felt oddly intimate. He felt unfamiliar again after having spent so much time apart during the day, and that made her all the more sensitive to his presence. 

“Working hard, I see,” Megumi’s voice was gruff with wear, as though having spoken nonstop for the entire day. 

“Welcome back,” (Y/N) replied as she stood from her chair, folding and sliding the letter into an envelope at the same time. Her mind churned as she tried to find a conversation starter. “...Have you finished with all the inspections?”

Megumi’s absence lately was a result of the annual safety inspections throughout the duchy. Due to how severe the winters in the duchy were, there were many safety measures throughout each town and village. While it was out of his obligation to inspect them personally, it seemed to (Y/N) that Megumi chose to do so out of precaution. Yet another charming point of his personality. 

He nodded as his hand released the doorknob, gently closing the door and (Y/N)’s only exit. Megumi was wringing his hands like he had something to confess. Something embarrassing. In amusement, (Y/N) shifted her weight from one leg to the other, patiently waiting. 

When his words finally came to him, it was in a blurted rush. 

“I was looking for you. I thought you’d be in bed already.”

She blinked.

He stared.

They were matching the same red-tinged ears, both of them praying that the other wouldn’t notice in the dim lighting. 

(Y/N) was the first to interrupt the silence with a snort of laughter. At this, Megumi bristled defensively, growing pinker by the second. 

“If you missed me, Your Grace, it’s fine to say so. I won’t shame you for it.”

His eye twitched at her taunt, already getting defensive as he muttered, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then perhaps you’re unable to sleep without me?” She stifled another laugh as he scowled. 

Desperate to move on from the subject, Megumi’s eyes shifted down to the envelope still lying on her desk. By default, her gaze followed and for whatever reason, she began to grow sheepish. (Y/N) tried to hide the letter, demurely pressing a hand against it. 

“For the orphanage?” He asked, startling her when he began striding in her direction. 

(Y/N) promptly shook her head, but didn’t budge. She watched as surprise flashed in his eyes, followed by suspicion, and then replaced with hurt. As if he was thinking of who she’d possibly be exchanging letters with to have to hide it. 

She scrambled to explain, “It’s to Satoru. Birthday wishes. We’d normally spend birthdays together but since I’m preoccupied here, I figured a letter would have to suffice.” 

Megumi’s gaze softened in realization, his steps faltering as he came to a stop before her. With one hand leaning onto the front of her desk, he studied the papers and books scattered about on its surface. He’d left a sizable gap between them, far enough that she wouldn’t feel trapped but close enough that he could reach out and touch her.

(Y/N) could feel it again, that stab of guilt. There truly wasn’t anything to hide from Megumi, but it was a private matter meant to remain between siblings; she hoped that he’d understand. When one is raised under constant surveillance and scrutiny, one tends to develop a desire to maintain what little privacy they’re allowed.

“I’d almost forgotten about the king’s birthday,” he mused, still avoiding eye contact, “I haven’t prepared anything for him.”

She cracked a smile. Now that was a different reaction than she’d expected. Megumi’s act of indifference towards Satoru had always been so obvious. She understands that he must feel conflicted; on one hand, he owed his life to his benefactor, yet on the other, Satoru’s authority commanded absolute loyalty. Even if it was something Megumi did not want. But even then, he still seemed to care. 

(Y/N) made her way around towards Megumi, coming to a halt next to him. He didn’t dodge her; this was new. This was the man who normally couldn’t stand to be within someone’s vicinity or have another’s presence in his space. She supposed that over time, he’d grown rather accustomed to her. 

“You have been rather busy after all, Your Grace. Fret not,” her smile was growing, “I’ve included your part in my gift.”

“And what might that be?” He asked quietly, finally establishing eye contact. The warm amber candlelight reflected itself off of his green-hued eyes, making for quite the reminder of how often she’d been mesmerized by them. That would be every time. They never failed to mesmerize her. 

“...Your Highness?”

(Y/N) shook her head, nearly having forgotten they were still in the middle of a conversation. 

“Pastries. I’ve placed an order at the emporium. He’s always been finicky with gifts, nothing materialistic ever truly holds his interest but he does share my sweet tooth,” her explanation was coming out in a steady stream, as though to cover up her blunder. Softly, (Y/N) added: “Satoru always said that experiences are worth more than wealth when you’ve been born into the richest family in the kingdom.”

She glanced at Megumi. He appeared to be mulling it over, a tender look in his gaze as he stared at her. 

Thump.

She swallowed nervously, alarmed by how loud her heartbeat had sounded. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him looking at her in that specific manner, but it was the first time her heart had ever reacted to it.

“What about you? Do you agree with him?” Megumi muttered, feeling a lot closer than he originally had been. His head was angled downwards, his posture stooped ever so slightly.

Her head spun. Had he inched closer, or was her mind playing tricks on her?

“I…” (Y/N) hesitated, “I suppose? But he’s always had more freedom than me growing up, so while he enjoys experiencing new things, I crave it.”

“You make it sound as though the two of you weren’t raised under the same roof,” Megumi commented, half-jokingly.

“Being raised under the same roof hardly meant anything in a palace that massive,” a halfhearted laugh wrenched itself from (Y/N)’s throat, “If it counted for anything, I was raised by Yuuji’s parents.”

Her smile turned bitter as she continued, “I’m afraid there was never room in my parents’ hearts for me. My father found me upsetting to look at. My mother never so much as called my name, only to curse it with her dying breath.”

She didn’t dare to meet his gaze now, out of fear that she’d be met with pity. These were words she’d never spoken to an outsider, even if Megumi could hardly be considered one anymore. Her family, excluding Satoru, had confined her within a bejeweled cage, ignored and called upon only to check that she was still alive. They didn’t even grant her the privilege of being a spare heir to the throne, only a political pawn that might perhaps one day be worth a meager marriage of alliance. Her month in the duchy had made her realize just how freeing it was, to no longer be treated as an esteemed prisoner.

After all, a bejeweled cage was still a cage. 

A hand, large but gentle in touch, settled against the crown of her head. Although the gesture caught her by surprise, she didn’t shake it off. He never initiated physical contact and (Y/N) had figured he never would. This was a nice change in pace, and she found that it was rather comforting. She did, however, cast Megumi a curious look. 

“I’m sure the last thing you’d want is sympathy from me, but I promise you that no one would ever dare to curse your name here.”

She let out another laugh, this one much more genuine. His promise was as sincere as one could be, even if it lacked eloquence and was spoken on a whim. Megumi didn’t dwell on her past, didn’t care for her status or her heritage. He merely saw her for her in the present, saw what she could be in the future. 

“You should try using my name, Your Grace. You don’t intend to use formalities with me forever, do you?”

The sudden swerve in topic provoked a disgruntled scoff from Megumi.

“I’m trying to be kind, Your Highness. Why is it that your immediate reaction is always to taunt me?”

(Y/N) grinned. She reached up to grab his hand still perched atop her head, holding it between hers as she brought it down. Against her naturally colder hands, his were burning with warmth. Megumi regarded her in exasperation, but he made no move to pull away. 

“Go on then, Fushiguro.” 

“...Stop that,” he swatted softly at her hands with his free one, before grabbing her by one wrist when she’d released him. “Don’t you have places to be tomorrow morning? Shouldn’t you be heading to bed?”

The area on her wrist where his hand encircled felt as though it was on fire. But her expression betrayed no sign of the duress her mind and her heart were experiencing. 

“Why,” she cooed, relishing in the reddening in Megumi’s cheeks, “I thought someone was waiting for me.”

“Your Highness,” he hissed warningly, though she detected not an ounce of threat in his tone. He didn’t dare get upset with her, his heart couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

“Heavens, fine. As you were, Your Grace. Off to bed.”

She allowed herself to be led away, trailing behind him. As he fumed silently to himself, (Y/N) studied his back profile. She sketched the image of his back into her memory, steady and dependable. She was getting used to this. She liked this. 

The orphanage used to be one of the infamously ramshackle institutions in town, sitting a little further out from the center. But under (Y/N)’s redevelopment, it was slowly being restored to glory. When (Y/N) and Yuuji first visited the orphanage, its condition was sickening. The two-story building had been overwhelmingly dilapidated. While the foundation of the building remained sturdy, both the interior and exterior were in dire need of updating. The entire orphanage was dreary: the ceilings leaked when it rained, and the wind howled through cracks between the window panes. The walls were riddled with tiny holes, chipped away from age. The furniture had been older than both (Y/N) and Yuuji combined, and watching the children climb into their swaying bunks nearly sent the two into shock. 

They’d learned that the previous director had up and left with nearly all the finances the year Megumi had been instated. With what little money they had left, the caretakers had taken it upon themselves to repair what they were able to, but no amount of self-repair would’ve restored the orphanage completely. They’d barely scraped by for the past two years, and would’ve chosen to continue to rely on what little donations the townspeople could spare than request aid from the Grand Duke. 

(Y/N) had cried on their way back to the estate. She’d tried to hide it from Yuuji, but her quiet sniffling that accompanied them the entire ride back was unmistakable. He didn’t ask about it, however, and merely allowed her a shoulder to lean on as he wallowed in silence. She hadn’t wanted to be consoled, and Yuuji knew not how to console someone’s guilt. He knew she felt responsible for how the children were living, and no amount of comfort would’ve erased that from her heart. 

Sitting there, Yuuji had thought about the kids they’d seen on their first day in town. The children that he’d thought were unsupervised, but in reality had no parents to supervise them. And while he did feel horrendously sympathetic for them, they seemed to ignore their dismal circumstances completely. It was a blessing that the caretakers and the new director were genuine in their concern for the children. Had they been raised under different circumstances, their lives would’ve been even more unfortunate. But thankfully, every single orphan was accounted for and attended to. 

(Y/N) had begun her changes by first replacing the furniture. The children had bounced about in their bunks, beyond elated at their new beddings. When they’d thanked (Y/N), Yuuji had watched in wonder at the smile that had graced her face. Against the bleak gray walls, she was a star brighter than Sirius. They’d sat with the kids for the rest of the day, reading and horsing around. (Y/N) had gone home that night in a frenzy, rambling to Yuuji about what her next plan of action entailed. And he’d sat patiently the entire time, trying to follow along with her rapid thoughts. It made him wonder if Megumi had had the time, would she have been relaying these ideas to him instead? 

What followed was an additional wing of bedrooms, amidst the refurbishing of the existing rooms. (Y/N) had also included a library and recreational wing in her expansions; she’d explained it to Yuuji as a compromise to keep the children from wandering off into the city center for fun. It was dangerous, especially given that there weren’t enough caretakers to watch over all of them at once while in separate places. 

Over the course of the month, the Grand Duchess and her knight had become rather popular amongst the orphanage’s children. Nobara would often be present, though, as if by nature, the kids tended to avoid her. They would, however, scrabble to greet (Y/N) with bows and curtsies and smiles, and then like mini shadows, would trail behind wherever she went. Yuuji saw the adoration in their eyes: to them, she was more than just the duchess, more than a savior. He’d often keep them distracted with stories from his childhood, and they’d listen with bright, wide-eyed stares. Perhaps it was because he was an only child himself, but after spending so much time around the children, Yuuji finally began to understand why Satoru would do anything to ensure (Y/N) a safe future.

Today was meant to be the last day of this project, when the construction would finally come to a finish. (Y/N) had contracted extra artisans for the sake of finishing the rebuild before the first snowfall, and it had paid off in the end. But throughout the entire carriage ride, Yuuji was baffled by the way (Y/N) continuously shifted in her seat. Her attention was focused out the window, her weight swaying with the carriage as though the very cushion under her was fire. From beside her, Nobara shot him a knowing look. The brunette furtively gestured her hand in the duchess’s direction.

“Your Highness, is everything alright?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat. He could feel his brows creasing with concern.

(Y/N) tore her gaze away from the window to meet his eyes, her expression conveying a sense of unease. 

“I’m not sure, Yuuji. Perhaps I’m mistaking my excitement for nerves, but something about today feels…wrong.”

Across the carriage, Yuuji and Nobara shared another look. His eyes darted to the other window, a signal that was easily understood by Nobara. But his friend shook her head; nothing was amiss that she was aware. And he had yet to pick up on anything himself. 

Met with (Y/N)’s worried frown, Yuuji offered her a smile. Anything that might soothe her anxiety. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side. So will Kugisaki.”

(Y/N) didn’t seem all too convinced, though she did nod in response. She drifted off into silence, and Yuuji was left to reconsider her words. If it was a matter of intuition, it was all the more reason to take her concerns seriously. Human intuition almost always meant something, even if it was inaccurate. But the question was what could possibly go wrong.

As usual, by the time their carriage had arrived, the director was already outside the front entrance waiting. Nanami Kento was a man of both height and physique. One would never assume that someone with a presence as intimidating as his worked with children for a living. He was supposedly only a year younger than the king, though one might assume he was older from his demeanor. A former merchant, he’d devoted his time working as a caretaker under the previous director following the loss of his wife and daughter. He was a man of tragedy, one who’d lost his family only to help others find a new one.

Yuuji admired him to a fault.

“Your Highness,” Nanami greeted (Y/N), before extending his greetings to Yuuji and Nobara. They responded with a cordial nod of their heads, while (Y/N) returned his hello with a shallow curtsy.

“Good morning, sir. How are the children this morning?” 

Nanami gestured towards the door, ushering them in through the entrance as he spoke.

“As lively as you saw them yesterday, Your Highness. They’re all still sleeping as of now. I’m afraid the library had kept them all rather occupied until late into the night yesterday.”

This brought the first lilt of a smile onto (Y/N)’s lips, though Yuuji could still see the tension in the way she held herself. It seemed that whatever was keeping her on edge had yet to go away. He scanned their surroundings; all seemed to be in order. 

“I hope you don’t reprimand them for doing so. A library should serve its purpose well, after all.”

Nanami gave (Y/N) a look of amusement before replying, “Of course not. Though they have gotten more unruly.”

Without the bustle of children running about and clamoring over each other for a chance to be heard, the building was buzzing with an uncharacteristic tranquility. Nanami was leading them towards the recreation wing, where the Yuuji could pick out the soft rhythmic sound of hammers and saws of carpenters as they passed by smaller rooms along the way. Even the workers were mindful of the noise they made, so as not to wake any slumbering children. 

As they approached the end of the hall, Nanami grumbled while opening the double doors. 

“I was told this morning that they’ve finished everything as asked, though they are willing to make any adjustments given that they receive compensation.”

“That most certainly means that they left some things intentionally wrong for more money,” Nobara whispered loudly to Yuuji, and he immediately nudged her, a reminder to keep quiet. He was aware of it; it wasn’t as subtle of a request as the workers might’ve hoped. (Y/N) must’ve understood the underlying motives too, as he saw her smile falter ever so slightly. But the disheartened expression was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

“No worries. If need be, I will cover the additional costs.”

A collective breath of approval traveled throughout the group as the room unveiled itself before them. It was by far the largest room in the entire facility, that much was uncontested. As (Y/N) had asked, two of the three walls featured large bay windows, allowing for natural lighting to fill the room. The ceilings were of newly polished wood panels, still gleaming. Pushed against the wall opposite the doors was an expansive bookshelf, stocked to the brim with supplies for crafting and toys. In the corner closest to them was a rack of wooden swords, and in the one opposite them, a massive slate was installed into the wall, intended for drawing. The floor tiles were dark and an imitation of the night sky, with stars and constellation names strewn about. 

And in the far corner of the room stood a young boy, no older than five perhaps. A large scar marred the side of his face, from cheekbone to chin, and his hair was pulled up in a petite ponytail. With fearful curiosity, he was peering upwards at a gap left in the ceiling. The sight made the hairs on the back of Yuuji’s neck stand; what was the boy looking at so intently?

“Kokichi, when did you get out of bed?” Though Nanami sounded frustrated, it couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. 

The boy turned his head, raising one hand to point at the gaping ceiling.

“There’s…there’s someone up there, Director,” stuttered Kokichi, having completely omitted the question that was asked of him. His fear kept him rooted to the ground.

Yuuji’s gaze followed the direction the boy’s finger was pointing, trailing upwards to study the gaping hole. From his angle, he could tell that it was a sizable gap, perhaps enough to fit one adult through. It must’ve been a worker that Kokichi had seen. But, if the room was supposedly finished, why hadn’t they patched up this part of the ceiling? They would have no reason to leave it as it was. 

Next to him, Nobara was scanning the rest of the room with heightened suspicion. He felt it too; this was the unease that (Y/N) had mentioned in the carriage.

A flurry of scratching noises and what appeared to be footsteps sounded above them. 

Then (Y/N) was bolting forward, alarm shooting through her expression. Whatever she saw, Yuuji and the rest of them couldn’t. He subconsciously took a step forward after her but didn’t follow, conflicted about where the threat might appear. Nothing happened as (Y/N) knelt down to match Kokichi’s height. Nothing happened as (Y/N) bundled him up in her arms, when she instantly turned back to say something, panic written so plainly all over her face. 

And then it happened. A loud crack reverberated throughout the room, and the ceiling crumbled before Yuuji’s very eyes. 

The ceiling came crumbling down. 

On top of (Y/N).

Chapter Text

“(Y/N)!”

Yuuji threw his entire body in her direction, his arms outstretched as he sprinted forward. His heart thundered in his chest, in his ears. It drowned out the shouts of alarm throughout the room, Nobara’s the loudest yet he couldn’t make out the words. He was choosing to ignore everything and everyone else. His world, as he knew it, was in immediate danger.

He wasn’t going to make it. It was too late. The wooden planks would bury her and it would all be his fault.

His fault.

Whatever injuries, whatever outcome this would end in, would all result from his failure.

The gruesome image of her being crushed beneath debris flashed incessantly in his mind. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut them out. But fear kept them open. Fear told him that if he closed them, the only sight that would greet him when he’d regained his courage would be (Y/N)’s battered, mangled body. 

One stride.

Two strides.

(Y/N) was yelling for him to stay away, but for once, it was an order he could not obey. 

Time seemed to slow to an impossible pace. The final stretch towards her felt so far away when she was merely within an arm’s distance. 

But he’d made it. 

He caught both (Y/N) and the boy in one fell sweep of his arms, bracing himself for impact as he tackled them both to the ground. Under his frame, (Y/N) and Kokichi were shielded to an extent. 

And then it came: the panels and beams of heavy oak, slamming down against his shoulders and back. He grimaced, biting back curses as tears brimmed in his eyes. Bursts of pain flared up immediately, setting his entire torso ablaze with searing sensations. The agony tore at his bones, at his organs, until it was all that he could feel. Something felt broken, and there were undoubtedly a sizable amount of bruises from the way he ached. The force had knocked the wind out of Yuuji, and his lungs were straining against his chest to keep him breathing. Before his eyes, dark spots dotted his vision. They doubled as he angled his head down to check on (Y/N) and the young child, who was cowering in the duchess’s arms.

She was looking up at him, her eyes darting rapidly as she studied his face. Shards of wood had cut her above the brow and on the right side of her jaw, oozing red. Disbelief and horror had overwritten her graceful features. Beneath them was a layer of distinctive, scalding anger. 

Thank heavens.

If there was a God, Yuuji wanted to thank the deity for making this possible. Relieved was an understatement to know that she still had enough sense to be angry at him. But, he winced at the thought of it, there was no escaping a scolding after this. It wouldn’t be one-sided this time though. He had his two cents to pitch in about how reckless she’d been.

The sickeningly metallic scent of blood was growing stronger by the second. Who was bleeding? Was it him? Something sticky and warm trailed down his shoulders and neck, dripping and dirtying the pristine silk of (Y/N)’s dress beneath him. They decorated her dress like cursed droplets of rubies, his moment of sacrifice forever a reminder imprinted into the stains. Somewhere beyond them, Nanami and Nobara were shifting through the debris, calling out to them as they did so. But they sounded distant to Yuuji. The adrenaline was wearing off by the second, and he could feel himself slipping away. The dots scattered throughout his vision were expanding, eating away at (Y/N)’s face before his very eyes. 

No.

No, no, no.

Not right now. She needs you.

He saw it in her eyes; she knew what was happening.

“Yuuji,” (Y/N) breathed, reaching up with one hand to cup his face. “Yuuji, stay with me.” 

Just one sentence, even one word to assure her that he would be alright, was all he wished to convey. His lips moved, but no words came out. Every breath he took felt as though it rattled his ribs, his breathing pattern growing more and more shallow. It hurt. Everything hurt. 

Despite it, he knew he’d do it over and over again if it meant that she was alive. 

One of his arms had lost all sensation. Without warning, Yuuji sank onto his side as it gave out. He was still fighting a mental battle within his mind, forcing himself to remain alert. But it was a battle that Yuuji was bound to lose. Her name was the last thing that left his lips, barely above a feeble whisper, as darkness triumphed over his consciousness. His body went slack, slumping down onto a panicking (Y/N).

“Yuuji!” She cried, her voice laced with frantic hysteria. The tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes were now escaping as she continuously tapped his face. Against her own rapid breathing, she couldn’t tell if Yuuji was breathing himself. Some reaction, any reaction, would do. She just needed confirmation that he was still alive, that he would be alright.

But he didn’t respond. Her heart sank. In her other arm, Kokichi began to sob.

“I killed him. I killed Mr. Itadori. I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I’m so sorry.” 

No, she wanted to chastise the young boy. He isn’t dead. Something like this isn’t going to kill Yuuji. But she didn’t. Instead, with her free hand, she tucked the boy closer to her, patting him on the back reassuringly. This seemed to have the opposite effect than she’d wanted, however, as Kokichi only spiraled into another fit of tears. 

“You did nothing of the sort, Kokichi,” (Y/N) murmured, trying her best to remain calm. “He’s going to be fine.”

She was equally trying to convince herself of it, though it was getting harder to do so. In her jumbled mind, a thought, bright and clear, came to her. She squirmed, trying to readjust her arm under Yuuji’s weight. (Y/N) fumbled about before two of her fingers found the groove in between Yuuji’s neck and jaw. Like rays of sunlight breaking a storm, her heart fluttered with optimism when she detected a faint heartbeat. It was unbearably slow, but it was there. 

Yuuji was still alive.

(Y/N) attempted to sit up, but was weighed down heavily by Yuuji. She hardly budged. The frenzy had left her numb, sapping away what little strength (Y/N) even possessed in the first place. Not for the first time in her life, she cursed herself for her uselessness. 

“(Y/N)!”

“Your Highness! Kokichi!”

Right, Nobara and Nanami were still here. There was hope after all. Their faces came into view as the two came to a halt beside her head. Nobara, who was worried and notably agitated. Nanami, who was just as concerned but lacked the hostility that she radiated.

“I could use a hand here,” (Y/N) coughed, trying to make light of the situation.

The other two quickly sprang into action, kneeling to hoist the unconscious Yuuji off of (Y/N). Still lying on the ground, (Y/N) watched as Nanami helped Kokichi stand up, nodding in relief when he’d made sure the child sustained no injuries—not including his tear-streaked cheeks. With great ease, Nanami then picked up Yuuji, throwing him over one shoulder and straightening all in one motion.

Had she not been reeling from everything that had just happened, (Y/N) would’ve been thoroughly impressed. She would’ve cracked a couple of jokes with Yuuji, maybe even poked fun at him together with Nobara. But, (Y/N) thought as she stared upwards at the damaged roof, the circumstances right now were no laughing matter. 

After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) was finally able to push herself up into a sitting position. Nobara rushed forward, offering her a hand to stand, but (Y/N) shook her head. She needed a moment to recollect herself. A wave of pain washed over her, pulsing particularly strongly in her shoulder blades. It made sense: she’d taken the brunt of the force there from when Yuuji pushed her down. With a face distorted with discomfort, (Y/N) tentatively rolled her shoulders, only to flinch when she pushed them out too far. 

“Don’t do that. You’ll only make it worse,” Nobara gently berated, settling a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder to pause the motion. As compliant as ever, she stopped in her tracks. “I suggest we return to the castle. Both of you need medical attention.”

(Y/N)’s eyes drifted to the wreckage surrounding them, the piles upon piles of ruined lumber. She was sitting amongst weeks and weeks of hard work, all having gone to waste within minutes. She was sure that the stomach-turning sensation she’d felt on their way out today wasn’t a symptom of motion sickness, and she’d been right. Misfortune had once again found its miserable way to her, and she was starting to grow sick of it. In a cold sweat, (Y/N) clenched her hands into firm fists. The prick of her nails digging into her palm kept her grounded in reality. There was nothing she wanted more than to sob her heart out in the moment because truthfully, that would’ve been the normal reaction to a near-death experience. But (Y/N) had more important issues at hand and actions to execute; she couldn’t afford to waste precious time on tears.

What could she do to fix this? The contracts she’d drawn up with the workers were coming to an end and if she wished to extend it, she’d have to go beyond the budget allotted to her. But on the other hand, the first snowfall was right around the corner; (Y/N) couldn’t allow this room to remain the way it was. It wouldn’t provide insulation against the subzero chill once snowfall began and without any support, the outer layer would only cave onto itself under the snow’s weight. 

Her hand swept the dusty floor beneath her as she once again peered up at the now-empty level. In bewilderment, she narrowed her eyes. The rest of the roof was intact, practically untouched. The structure had been built in a sloping triangular shape, with the outer layer supported by the same wooden beams that had knocked Yuuji out. What had descended on them was the inner layer; between the two layers was a space tall enough for a person to walk. But this was normal, as those working on the support beams would’ve needed them. No, the suspicious part was that nearly every other corner of the room was unbothered. Somehow, the ceiling had managed to neatly tear only a section of itself apart. 

Nobara tried to protest when (Y/N) pried herself up from the ground, but she paid her friend no heed. Head still spinning, she began to circle the chasm above her, neck straining as she adjusted the distance between her and the ceiling. There had to be something up there if this was an orchestrated event. 

Further into the enclave, (Y/N) saw it. The glint of something silver standing upright on its own, driven into the boards, its wooden handle nearly fading into the shadows. 

A hand saw.

Her heart dropped.

Which could mean that it truly was no accident at all.

Why leave the tool here as evidence, if not to mock and remind them what could’ve happened? What was meant to happen? And what might happen again in the future?

It was as blatant as schemes could be and only solidified what (Y/N) thought she’d seen. What Kokichi had seen. Children were unable to lie in a situation where they felt threatened, so she knew for certain that they’d seen the same figure watching them. Waiting for them. 

She knew he’d seen the same wicked, maniacal grin the man had given them before he’d disappeared. 

A tremor shook her entire body, and (Y/N) stumbled backward before Nobara caught her. 

Someone was intentionally sabotaging them. Someone with villainous intentions, but their motives were murky. Who was behind this? It could’ve been anyone. There were so many possibilities to consider, and none would line up if they were unable to find the perpetrator. 

They could’ve been wreaking chaos for the sake of it, a madman who took pleasure in destruction.

They could’ve meant this as a message, perhaps a noble that found it distasteful to waste money on a deteriorating orphanage. 

They could’ve been trying to kill someone.

Her next thought sent a wave of nausea through her. (Y/N) clapped a hand to her mouth, forcing the urge to vomit back down. 

They could’ve been trying to kill her.

—

Her mind was still racing. Though she was back in the castle, being attended to by the resident physician, (Y/N) was still mentally at the orphanage. The events were still vivid and very much alive before her, a constant replay running through her mind. (Y/N) didn’t know why she did it, but her legs had propelled her toward the child before she’d even realized what she was doing. Or what the action spelled for her. Never before would she have thought that someone as cowardly as her would risk her life willingly, and for a child she’d known for barely a month.

But she remained firm with her decision. To her, it was the right thing to do. If (Y/N) had to feel guilty for any effects of her actions, it would be for endangering Yuuji. She’d completely forgotten to consider his unyielding loyalty in her desperate attempt to save Kokichi; it was simply characteristic that Yuuji chose to discard all regard for his own safety if it meant making sure not a single strand of hair on her body was harmed. 

Yuuji was the first to receive treatment, but only after (Y/N) insisted upon it. She’d been a breadth away from shouting in aggravation at the servants fussing over her when Yuuji was visibly injured right before their eyes. But she’d held her tongue, demanding instead for the doctor’s immediate presence. With the help of Nanami, who’d followed them back to the castle after entrusting Kokichi to one of the caretakers, they’d settled Yuuji in his bed chamber. (Y/N) was then unceremoniously shooed out of the room. Nobara had walked (Y/N) back to her chamber afterward, practically brainwashing her with how persistently she tried to reinforce the fact that Yuuji would be fine.

(Y/N) wasn’t convinced. She needed to see him be fine with her own two eyes. But she didn’t dare fight Nobara on it; her friend was already furious enough as things were. Not to mention, being treated was undoubtedly the smarter option when her only ones were to suffer or…well, suffer. So (Y/N) had relented to waiting for her turn to be treated.

She now sat in one of the single couches, her upper body draped over the armrest as the physician tended to her injuries. The majority were bruises scattered on her back, although a throbbing at the back of her skull was making her reconsider the severity of what she’d sustained. The back of her dress was undone, leaving her shoulders down to her lower back exposed and bare. She might as well have been naked from how vulnerable she felt. It had been so long since (Y/N) had felt on edge that she’d nearly forgotten how excruciating it was. If not for Nobara’s presence, (Y/N) knew she wouldn’t have agreed to this. 

Doctor Makoto was an unfamiliar face and hadn’t spoken a word since greeting (Y/N). Yet the gentle manner in which she worked reminded (Y/N) of Shoko, the resident physician back in the palace, and one of the few people Satoru fully trusted. But that was where the resemblance ended. Whereas Shoko’s features were elegant, the lady tending to her had pointed features. Everything about her was sharp. Her hair was an unnatural shade of gray, tinged with blue. Even her complexion had an odd tint of gray to it, as though she rarely stepped out into the sun. (Y/N) thought she felt, rather than looked, familiar. As though they’d met somewhere before but only in passing. She wrote it off as a side effect from hitting her head. 

(Y/N) winced as she recoiled away from whatever the doctor was now pressing onto her skin. There was something on the object from the way it stung, not quite numbing but not at all soothing. 

“Your Highness?” Makoto’s sugary voice asked from behind her, almost as though confused by (Y/N)’s discomfort. “Is there something wrong?”

(Y/N) scrunched her brows, turning over her shoulder to scrutinize what the doctor was holding in her hand. Her qualms were far from resolved even after seeing the plain cotton gauze in Makoto’s hand. There was a white gel-like residue left over on it.

“What is that and why does it sting?”

Makoto promptly broke into a beaming smile, as though she had been waiting for that very question. 

“This is made from a plant called sansumi, Your Highness. It can only be harvested from the mountain range near the northern border. The plant by itself shouldn’t sting; I fear that might be due to the abrasions in your skin. You must’ve slid quite a bit from your fall. These can only be made from excessive scraping against a solid surface.”

“What are its intended purposes then?”

The doctor blinked, having the audacity to look perplexed at (Y/N)’s lack of interest in medicinal knowledge.

“Why, numbing, Your Highness. Over time, the ointment will take effect and the swelling of your bruises will reduce. I treated Sir Itadori with the same ointment.”

(Y/N) fell silent, giving only a curt nod before turning away without another word, much to Makoto’s dismay.

So it wasn’t poison. That much put a part of her mind at ease. It hurt her conscience to direct her suspicions at someone whose job was to save lives, yet it was precisely because of this convenient career that made Makoto all the more dubious. So many different opportunities, and so many secretive methods to hide their choice of weapon. 

The potential prospect of being murdered without her knowledge had come back to haunt (Y/N) once again. When she thought that she’d finally buried her old fears, they came arising from the dead to remind her that this was who she was. This meek, belittled princess was who (Y/N) should’ve resigned to being instead of trying to act under the pretense of a bold, respected duchess. She should’ve known that. All her life, she’d always been trying to fit the mold someone else had laid out for her. When was she going to learn that it never gets easier, never gets better? 

Not for the first time, (Y/N) wondered what life would’ve been like had she not been born into royalty. By the stars, if being reborn with a different fate was possible, she’d rather restart there. 

But then she reminded herself of the children at the orphanage. She was reminded of Nanami, of Megumi. No, the fault wasn’t in her birthright. The hands of fate’s clock would never rewind for anyone, no matter how or to whom you were born. But they’d all paved or will pave a different path for themselves, carving a new face of the clock that they are in control of. If they could do it, then so can she.

The orphanage. (Y/N) jolted upwards, nearly knocking Makoto in the chin with her shoulder. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d nearly forgotten to clear the mess that was still cluttering the orphanage. She needed to send someone to investigate the wreck, to get to the bottom of this ploy.

The sound of footsteps thundering down the hall caught her attention. They were fast, as if the person was sprinting, before coming to a halt at the chamber doors. The door was thrown open, and a panting Megumi barged in, looking as though the sky had caved in without warning. 

The two met their gazes from across the room, and (Y/N)’s heart lurched at the way she could visibly see the distress in his eyes. This was not a simple matter of being concerned for her well-being. It wasn’t a case of him feeling obligated to check on her. 

No, that was the look of pure devastation . It was the look of a man who had prepared himself for the worst. It was the look of a man who knew he’d nearly lost everything. 

He was dressed plainly in a shirt and trousers, an outfit (Y/N) knew he usually wore for training. As though channeling his frenzy, his hair was even more erratic than usual, sticking up in every which way. Glistening beads of sweat dotted his forehead, but how much of it was from fright and how much of it was from his hurry was debatable. Megumi was paling by the second; it was like he’d seen a ghost in the flesh. 

“...Out.” 

His command was softly spoken, his eyes never once breaking contact with hers. (Y/N) frowned; did he intend to kick her out too? Nobody moved, not Nobara, not Makoto. Every single person in the room was as equally shaken as the next by the duke’s reaction. Even (Y/N) understood this was uncalled for. 

Who even was this?

“Out. Now. Both of you,” Megumi ordered again, this time firmer and louder. 

(Y/N) breathed in sharply; he was furious.

The tension had hit an all-time peak, and (Y/N) was trying her hardest not to squirm.

She tore her gaze away to shoot Nobara a glance, her questions unspoken in her eyes. But she was met with a powerless shrug. If even Nobara couldn’t refute, and (Y/N) knew that she loved to push Megumi’s buttons, then all that was left was to surrender. When she turned her head back in his direction, he was already drawing nearer, his strides brisk and driven by urgency. (Y/N) could see the doctor trying to pack all her supplies out of the corner of her eye.

“Leave those,” he told her, his grave tone slicing through the air as he came to a stop beside (Y/N). 

Keeping her head down, Makoto bowed, before scurrying away. Nobara lingered for a moment, her hesitance provoking a glare from Megumi. But she ignored him, directing her attention instead to (Y/N). 

Will you be alright? She seemed to be asking, and (Y/N) gave a subtle nod in response. 

For good measure, Nobara returned Megumi’s glare, before stomping out of the bed chamber. At least she remembered to close the door behind her, though it did slam. 

Left alone in the room with Megumi, (Y/N) was suddenly overly conscious of the fact that she was practically topless, even if all he could see was her back. Snaking one hand behind her, (Y/N) tried to retie the corset. She knew he wasn’t comfortable with skinship, and she didn’t want him to be bothered by the unsightly view of her injuries. 

Until she felt slender fingers wrapping around her wrist, effectively pausing her in her tracks. (Y/N) could feel her heart rate speeding up against her will, but she couldn’t escape his grip. 

“...Your Grace?” She squeaked, propping herself up just slightly on her other arm to turn over her shoulder. Megumi was studying her back with a horrified expression, completely unfiltered. He wasn’t even trying to hide it this time, his stunned silence spoke volumes. Slowly, he dropped her hand. 

Seeing that he wasn’t going to speak on it, (Y/N) sank back onto the armrest, trying to contain her apprehension. She wiggled about, readjusting her position so that she’d be able to see him without craning her neck. Unlike with Makoto, she wasn’t worried about Megumi trying to harm her. What she was worried about was his wandering gaze, burning into her skin.

Why must he stare at her so intently?

“I fear Yuuji’s in far worse condition than me,” she offered, testing for a reaction.

He finally shifted his attention, turning to pick up the sansumi ointment that the doctor had left behind. With careful hands, Megumi smeared a piece of gauze with the ointment, before he began dabbing at her bruises.

His hands were trembling. 

“So I’ve heard,” he muttered. All the bravado and intimidation from minutes before have since dissipated. 

(Y/N) hugged the front of her dress closer to her, a little nervous for all the wrong reasons. 

“You should pay him a visit.”

“I’ll go later.”

He wasn’t budging, but (Y/N) could see that color was slowly returning to his face. She hummed an “alright” in response, waiting for him to finish the job. 

A warm fuzzy sensation was threatening to overwhelm her. How can one person make her so nervous yet so at ease all in the same instance? Megumi’s presence seemed to ward off the looming fear and anxiety, but (Y/N) didn’t have an explanation as to why. It was different from the comfort and safety she found in Yuuji, but it felt confusingly similar all at the same time.

For a moment, every other thought in the world faded into oblivion. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she could fall asleep right then and there. 

But then, the feeling of his fingers absentmindedly brushing against her spine drew her out of her daze. Like electricity, it elicited a gasp that (Y/N) immediately stifled.

Almost as though completely unphased, Megumi proceeded to ask: “What happened exactly?”

She heard a faint click as he set the jar of medicine back on the table, and then with a feather-like touch, he began to redo the back of her dress. (Y/N) thanked him quietly after he’d finished loosely tying the laces, allowing her wounds to breathe without being constricted by the garment. Tentatively, she sat up from her hunched position, wincing at the soreness that seemed to radiate throughout her entire body. 

“The ceiling collapsed,” (Y/N) explained. She stared down at her feet, unsure where to find the courage to meet his gaze. “I have reason to believe that it may have been orchestrated. In no world would a ceiling merely cave in on itself in such a specific manner.”

Her memory began to flood back into her mind as cold reality settled in once again. Of what’s important, of which time and haste were crucial. Her head snapped up, startling a troubled look out of Megumi. 

“Your Grace, I implore you to conduct an investigation. I have already asked those at the orphanage to leave the wreckage as is to ensure that any evidence found remains untouched,” she paused to take a breath, giving him a chance to interject that Megumi didn’t take. He’d pressed his lips into a firm line. It was an expression of utmost frustration, but (Y/N) couldn’t allow herself to be thrown off by it.

So she continued.

“On that note, please assemble some troops to aid in removing the debris. As for the reparations, I plan to speak to the artisans and carpenters to negotiate an appropriate extension to their contract.”

“Your Highness–”

Megumi was cut off as (Y/N)’s rambling continued to spiral.

“It’ll naturally require more funds, I hope you’d be willing to expand the budget by just a little. As for the perpetrator, I would suggest against a public manhunt as it would only raise alarm and suspicions amongst the people. It’s in our best interest not to induce duchy-wide panic, so it would do to keep the investigation undisclosed, though I’m sure rumors will manage to circulate regardless. No,” (Y/N) clutched at the layers of her skirt, the material bunching in her hands, “perhaps it would be better for the people to be aware of a potential suspect. We aren’t sure of their motives, and we can’t assume anything. We can't overlook the possibility that they'd harm innocent people, and we surely can’t—”

“(Y/N).”

Her heart and words faltered. Her name, spoken with so much raw emotion, rolled off of his tongue with ease. Like he’d been practicing and waiting for the day to use it. 

It was the first time he’d ever called her by name. Not Your Highness, not “the duchess,” not “you.”

Just (Y/N).

Everything before her sharpened back into focus; (Y/N) hadn’t even realized she’d spaced out. A gentle squeezing motion prompted her gaze downwards to their intertwined hands. Baffled, (Y/N) bore her gaze into the back of his hand. When had he reached over, and why hadn’t she noticed?

Her eyes trailed upwards, finally resorting to meeting him head-on. 

She didn’t know what to say. She actually didn’t know if she knew how to speak anymore. The boulder she’d worked so hard to crack had finally shown vulnerability. What a shame that the moment she’d been waiting for arrived during a time when she was in no mood to celebrate. 

(Y/N) watched him swallow nervously, yet his grasp on her hand and the firmness in his eyes never once wavered. 

“...(Y/N),” he tried again, as though scared to offend her. Between the two of them, she couldn't tell whose hand was clammier. What did he have to say?

(Y/N)’s eyes dropped to his lips, where it lingered for the briefest of moments before she shook herself out of her trance. Fear for what was to come crept upon her and left an overwhelmingly bitter taste in her mouth. 

She didn’t respond, but he wasn’t waiting for one.

“You’ve done so much this past month. Ever since this project began, it felt as though you’ve hardly had the chance to even breathe,” Megumi hesitated, the creasing of his brows deepening, “And after what happened today…maybe you should consider leaving the rest to me.”

Leave the rest? To him?

Disappointment struck like lightning, washing over (Y/N) like a tidal wave that left her with a sinking realization. He intended to shoulder everything by himself, once again. The first official duty she’d ever been tasked with, and she’d failed him. She’d failed the children, the orphanage. Was this Megumi’s way of sugarcoating his disdain for her incapability? By concealing it as concern for her well-being? At the end of the day, was he more worried that her incompetence would hinder him?

She thought they’d gotten closer. She thought that they’d begun to trust one another. 

Was his trust and faith in her so fragile that it could be broken by an accident that hadn’t been her fault? 

Or perhaps it was her fault. Maybe the perpetrator was someone she’d hired with her own insight. That would mean that all of this led back to her, that Yuuji being unconscious would've been her fault. She would’ve been the first nail in her own coffin.

The tears were rolling down her cheeks before she could even register them. As much as she willed them to stop and as much as she was ashamed to be crying–yet again–in Megumi’s presence, she had no way of doing so. They burned and stung as they dripped off her chin, leaving behind streaks of the paths they traveled. It was as though the events of the day had finally sunk in, the exhaustion and stress imploding without a warning. His skepticism was the last brick amongst her already shaking foundation. Like the orphanage, it felt as though the roof above (Y/N)’s head had once again caved in.

Faced with (Y/N)’s sobbing, Megumi froze like a deer in headlights.

“Your Grace,” she choked out, closing her eyes so that she could avoid his pitiful gaze, “I can fix this. I promise. Please, I can fix this. Believe me, please. I just need a little time and a little help.”

(Y/N) couldn’t see it: Megumi’s eyes were frantically searching for something to wipe her tears but to no avail. He settled for his thumb, gently swiping at her cheek as each of her blundering pleas pinned one dagger after another into him. 

This wasn't his intention. This wasn't what he'd come here for, but he realized he should've expected this reaction. Megumi had not even the smallest shred of courage in him to strip her of her responsibilities. He saw the endless hours and mindful deliberation (Y/N) poured into her duties; it was a contrast to himself so stark that he couldn’t help but respect her.

An imposter forced into the light as a noble, and a noble forced into the shadows, accused of being an imposter. 

Megumi isn’t and won’t ever be someone who looks up to others, yet the amount of admiration he had for (Y/N) was staggeringly overwhelming. It left him with a yearning to share that same passion and dedication that she felt, that same selflessness she possessed.

He knew he could never achieve it. Fushiguro Megumi was more than aware of his selfish tendencies. His ideals were his and no one else’s; there would never be two such things that were of equal importance. While it was true that he treated his role as the duke with great care, he never attempted to build a connection with his people. It was always assumed that what he did was for the good of the people. But (Y/N) had put herself out there and managed to build a network in a mere month. As though she was a natural.

To see her, a descendant of the ever-proud, ever-arrogant Gojo clan, begging and pleading out of fear and guilt when he blamed her for nothing, was nauseating. This was different from the first time he’d run into her crying in the royal gardens; back then, he had felt empathetic. But this time, he felt responsible. For what happened, for her injuries, for allowing her to shoulder duties in the first place that should’ve been his.

Megumi couldn’t bear it any longer. 

His touch was soft as he reached around (Y/N) to cup the back of her head with one hand, tipping her towards him in one fluid motion. She didn’t fight him, though she continued to tremble into his shoulder. He could feel her tears bleeding into his shirt, her hands clenching the fabric into her balled fists. Her now-muffled apologies continued, growing less and less intense, more and more tired. 

He leaned the side of his head against hers, waiting patiently for her. 

After some time, (Y/N) fell quiet. She’d gone limp in his arms, her weight fully supported by Megumi as she remained buried in his shoulder. He would’ve suspected that she’d fallen asleep if it weren't for the intermittent sniffles.

“...Feeling better?” He finally asked after several seconds of reluctant deliberation. Megumi thought about pulling away; this type of skinship was hardly appropriate given the situation. But he’d at last found a reason to hold her properly; he’d like nothing more than to keep them in the same position for the rest of the day. 

“Not quite,” she mumbled in response. The crying must’ve drained her of whatever energy she had left. She was still hiding from his line of sight, Megumi noted, but he let her be. Rather, he redirected his attention elsewhere, one hand trailing through the ends of her white tresses. Megumi could feel that the grasp she’d had on his shirt was gone. Her arms were now wrapped loosely around his waist, almost too casually. 

After today, they’ll go back to the way they were before. Just for today, while he had a reason to keep her in his arms, Megumi wanted to relish in the idea that she was still here. That she was real and was safe in his embrace.

“I’m sorry.”

They blurted simultaneously, both of them tensing in surprise at the other’s timing. Caught off guard, neither of them spoke for a second after.

Megumi was the first to explain himself. 

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured. “I thought I’d lost you and Itadori both in just one day.”

(Y/N) still didn't meet his gaze, though she did stir slightly in response.

“I don't mean to take you away from your work and it isn't something I anticipate to happen. I'm just…afraid. You are so intent on proving yourself, proving something to this world, that you don't seem to put yourself first.”

“For years, the only person I've ever put first has been myself, Your Grace,” her voice was meek when she spoke, but her tone was determined. “I didn’t realize it until I arrived, but I’ve secluded myself into my own world that I’ve grown ignorant of all that’s around me. I…I don’t want to prove anything to high society. But I must give back all the years I’ve spent living off the back of the people. It’s only right to do so.”

Almost too soon, (Y/N) was prying herself away, straightening her posture as she did so. Megumi fought back his protests, wanting her touch to stay or even just to linger.

(Y/N)’s violet eyes were ringed with red, her cheeks and nose a matching shade. The tears hadn’t properly dried, leaving a glow on her face that glistened when she angled her head. Somehow, it seemed as though droplets had caught themselves in her lower lashes. Yet, all of it did nothing to diminish her beauty. If anything, she was all the more ethereal to him. (Y/N) was undeniably a Gojo; the genetics have and will never fail. Had Megumi been a stickler for appearances, there wouldn’t have been a better candidate for duchess than her.

But he wasn’t, and more so than her looks, he was appreciative of her character. Her unbridled sense of justice, her disposition to learn and adapt. Her empathy that knew no bounds but remained true to her morals. 

“…Megumi,” she began, hesitating before she paused. Something akin to hope flickered behind her gaze.

A twang struck Megumi’s heartstrings. She’d always used his name as a tease. To hear it in such a serious tone churned his stomach in a way he was unsure how to describe. 

He nodded for her to continue.

“Am I to take it as I can finish the project on my own…?”

Immediately, his rejection was firm, shaking his head before she could even finish her request. 

“No. I may not be a doctor, but I’ve seen a fair share of injuries like yours. They don’t heal as quickly as you’d expect. Take this week to rest. While you do, I will see to it that everything you’ve asked for is executed just as you said.”

He could tell she wasn’t happy with that arrangement; she had the habit of chewing on her lips when she was nervous. 

“I promise,” Megumi murmured, trying his best to reassure her. But having never comforted a person before, the most he could offer was a weak smile. The expression felt odd on his face but he thought he recognized a flash of amusement in her gaze, much to Megumi’s relief. 

“I believe you,” (Y/N) told him, returning his smile with one that had traces of wistfulness weaved into it. It was so different from the way she’d beamed from receiving her first document; she’d been so radiant.

As (Y/N) leaned back into him, Megumi’s conscience finally reminded him of Yuuji. Guilt shot through him like arrows; his friend who’d thrown his life on the line for the girl he loved was lying unconscious as they spoke. And here Megumi was, allowing for his own emotions to reign over his actions. 

But it was just for today. Tomorrow, he’d be so busy again that he would have no time to wallow in whimsical emotions and matters of the heart. 

He couldn’t afford either. 

The halls were empty, as empty as the bed she’d woken up to in the middle of the night. (Y/N) had woken up in a cold sweat: the nightmare of wooden stakes jutting from her torso plagued her even after she’d forced herself awake, and the way her body ached nearly convinced her brain that it had actually happened. Almost on instinct, she’d reached over to find Megumi, only for her hand to pass through empty air. 

Megumi’s side of the bed was cold. He clearly hadn’t been there for quite a while now, but she couldn’t imagine where he’d run off to.

No, (Y/N) realized, she knew exactly where to find him. In a whirlwind, she’d grabbed a shawl from her closet before traversing out into the dimly lit hallway.

Without the presence of a fireplace, a chilly draft breezed throughout the corridor as (Y/N) shuffled forward. She shivered, drawing her shawl closer to her body, flinching when the motion prompted too much strain from her shoulders. 

The rest of the day had dragged on, though  (Y/N) had spent much of it alongside Yuuji. After Megumi had departed the castle for the orphanage, she’d camped outside of his chambers until she’d prepared herself to face reality. She’d then sat at his bedside, waiting and waiting and waiting in vain for him to awake. 

And now, as she drew nearer to Yuuji’s room once again, she could see that the door had been left ajar. A sliver of light spilled into the hall from behind the door, which softly creaked as she pushed through it. She already knew what and who to expect.

Sure enough, Megumi and his messy bedhead were sitting in a chair beside Yuuji’s bed. Dark circles ringed the bottom of his eyes, the exhaustion and worry practically exuding in waves. He swung his head up upon hearing (Y/N)’s arrival, eyes wide as though surprised to find her out of bed.

Instantly, he was on his feet. (Y/N) gently shut the door behind her.

“Did something happen?” Megumi asked softly, starting to make his way towards her. (Y/N) shook her head, motioning for him to return to his seat. 

“A nightmare is all. I was wondering where you might be.”

Megumi grimaced, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m quite alright.”

She made a beeline towards the spare chairs Yuuji kept in a corner, dragging one quietly against the floor before coming to a stop next to Megumi. He peered up at her curiously as he watched her sit down, though she was focused on the man before them. 

Yuuji was sleeping peacefully. She could see the slight shifting of his chest under the covers, a sign of steady breathing. If not for the bandages peeking from under the collar of his shirt and under his hair, Yuuji might’ve been simply sleeping like normal.

But (Y/N) knew it wasn’t. He was too quiet, too peaceful. He wasn’t snoring, as she knew him to. He hadn’t turned 180 degrees in his sleep as he would always end up. He hadn’t randomly twitched in the span of minutes, something that she’d always made fun of him for. 

No, it was all too peaceful for Yuuji, and (Y/N) hated it. She expected him to grumble about his back, maybe even laugh at Megumi’s obvious concern. If he were to spring awake right then with a silly remark, she’d even consider letting him win the argument she knew he’d been ready to have. 

“...I take it he hasn’t woken up,” she said, reaching for Yuuji’s limp, but warm hands. His pulse was a lot steadier than it had been when they’d brought him back, though that was the only positive as of presently. 

Megumi sighed from next to her, trying his best not to focus on her and Yuuji’s intertwined hands. 

“No, not even a flicker of the eyelid.”

(Y/N) frowned, her heart suddenly heavy with doubt. 

“But,” Megumi continued, “the doctor did say to allow him several days. We’ll have to wait.”

She shot him a brief look, unsure whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one. But, surely if there was no hope for Yuuji, the medical staff would’ve said so already. 

(Y/N) reluctantly released his hand, settling back into her chair. This was all too surreal. It reminded her of the time Satoru had been unconscious following her parents’ assassination. Every single emotion from that day was seeping and combining with the ones today to the point that (Y/N) could no longer distinguish between old and new pains. But she didn’t have it in her to cry again; she’d run herself dry within the hours earlier in the day.

When the chamber doors swung open for a second time, (Y/N) and Megumi raised their heads in unison.

It was Nobara, pillow and quilt in hand with a visibly disconcerted look. For a moment, the three of them exchanged looks in silence. It appeared that they’d all been worried about the same person.

Nobara was the first to speak, breaking the trance as she got to work, pulling over the entire couch to the opposite side of Yuuji’s bed and rearranging the cushions. 

“I didn’t know we were having a party in here,” she joked sarcastically, throwing herself onto the couch with an “oomph” as her head disappeared under the quilt. (Y/N) knew she was feeling embarrassed having been caught red-handed with expressing concern.

“Quite the attendance, if you ask me,” (Y/N) joked back, somewhat entertained by her antics.

Megumi made a face, one that (Y/N) was thankful that Nobara could not see. But it was gone as quick as it’d come, morphing into one of concern as he turned to (Y/N).

“Maybe you should go back to bed. You’ve had a long day.” 

Her eyes drifted towards Nobara’s figure under the quilt, wondering if her friend had picked up on Megumi’s intentional ignoring. 

“I’ll stay here. I feel better here with all of you.”

Megumi fell silent, his inability to argue against that written plainly in his face. (Y/N) spared him an apologetic smile, leaning forward onto the bed with her arms folded. She tucked her head into the crook of her arms, praying that in the morning, everything would have been returned to normal. Hoping that, by the time she woke up tomorrow, Yuuji would be awake and well. That the suspect responsible for all of this would be apprehended, and that the loose ends of the case would begin to resolve themselves.

Maybe, by tomorrow, she'd be able to make sense of the conflicting emotions that were flooding her mind.

Chapter Text

Was he dead?

Yuuji couldn’t tell how long it had been since he became unconscious.

All he knew was he was trapped in a loop with a recurring dream. The same familiar garden, the same castle in the backdrop. The same protagonist that starred in all of his dreams and nightmares to date. 

Though he knew he was dreaming, there was evidence of strong influence from Yuuji’s memories. The scent of flowers in the air was unnaturally sharp—almost as though they were real. He could feel the warmth of the spring sunshine upon his back and the plush grass that swept at his ankles. Above him, the clouds were akin to woven silk, lazily crossing the unbelievably blue skies. 

(Y/N) was crouching with her back to him. She was humming quietly to herself while snipping at the tulips near her feet. The hem of her dusty blue skirt skimmed the soil beneath her, but if she cared about the brown hue that was staining her dress, the princess made no show of it.

When she straightened, a batch of beautifully grown pink tulips in her hand, her childlike features glowed with content. Yuuji didn’t even bat an eye at the younger (Y/N); this was a frequent occurrence. On so many occasions, he’d dreamed of their childhood, where her happiness had frozen in time and where Yuuji’s heartache began.

Her gaze seemed to pass through him. As though to her, he didn’t account for even a figment of her imagination.

He watched with a wistful smile as she bounded away, likely on her way to show off her bouquet. Hesitantly, Yuuji reached out a hand, only to withdraw it as a clenched fist. He’d lost count of the number of times that he’d failed to reach her. Just like in reality, where Yuuji would never find the courage or opportunity to tell her the truth he’d hid from her the last night they’d spent together. 

What more did he intend to reap from this perpetual longing? He knew he was losing her; perhaps he’d already lost her.

And that was when an unpleasant darkness overtook the sunny skies.

The gardens were soon replaced with a sudden overgrowth of wispy red flowers. Their thin, spindly petals waved in the nearly inconspicuous breeze, the drooping tendrils akin to the legs of arachnids. Beautiful as they were, the flora glowed with a menacing promise. Of what, Yuuji wasn’t sure. 

Red spider lilies, he noted. How grim.

He remembered that (Y/N) used to refuse to plant them; she'd always been wary of the connotation associated with the flower, a reminder of death and mourning. Yuuji’s familiarity with the red spider lily stemmed from having witnessed the beds that surrounded the coffins of the late king and queen. It was the first time he’d ever been introduced to the flower, and its chilling allure had left an everlasting impression on a younger Yuuji. No doubt it was worse for the princess. 

It was certainly not an omen that he wanted to see anywhere, for good reason. 

He stood his ground as a lone man, standing amidst the waves of flowers that were starting to look eerily reminiscent of blood. Several steps away, he could see where the dream’s edge dropped away, leering up at him.

“Have I finally died?” He wondered aloud. The question went unanswered. The only response was his voice echoing back at him as though it had bounced off a wall.

Yuuji managed to crack an awkward smile at himself. Even by his standards, it was a rather absurd assumption. After all, what were the odds of dying to some wood? He’d suffered injuries much more severe. If given the opportunity, he would never choose to succumb to mere wood planks. Though he supposed in a way, he did have a choice in this. 

The silence was beginning to unnerve him, however. Wherever he was, be it a dream, a nightmare—perhaps even his own personal purgatory for all he knew—he didn’t belong here.

So why has he yet to wake from this unrelenting loop? How many more times did he have to be forced into watching her turn her back on him?

“Yuuji?”

He tensed. A shudder traveled down his spine, raising the goosebumps on his arm. Someone from somewhere was calling his name with concern too great to contain and fondness too sweet to ignore.

He would know that voice anywhere, creepy atmosphere or not. 

“(Y/N)?”

She must be safe, and if not well, then at least conscious. Nothing had happened to her after he'd passed out. Relieved was far from sufficient to describe the feeling that flooded his body. A giddiness that was less than appropriate for his circumstances followed soon after. But as he spun in his spot, eyes brimming with anticipation at the idea of seeing her face once more, there was nothing but darkness that greeted him. The excitement had worn off as quickly as it had settled.

Reality was as bleak as ever. She was not truly here, and he still had no way of reaching her. 

“Yuuji?” The voice asked once again.

“I’m here,” he tried, his spinning faltering as he directed his attention in every direction possible. “I can hear you. I’m right here.”

Where was her voice coming from? Where was she ? If he was able to hear her, why hadn’t he woken up by now?

There was a brief pause, during which Yuuji envisioned a gloomy (Y/N) gnawing at her lips in anxiety.

Her next words came in a quivering whisper:

"I miss you. I’m beginning to worry that perhaps my hopes in that doctor were misplaced.” 

"I...I miss you too,” he confessed, his tone hushed as though he were speaking something of great taboo. What was he doing, wasting time being melancholic to the air? But his words wouldn’t stop, and neither did his emotions.

“I miss you so dearly that I’d break my way out of this prison with my bare hands if it were possible. But I don’t know how to, (Y/N). What must I do?”

It proved to be futile once again, and the voice he sought solace in had already faded into nothing. A defeated Yuuji sank to his knees amongst the flowers. His hands, the hands that were always steady and gentle, grasped and crushed the red lilies beneath him in desperation.

Tears threatened to overwhelm his vision, burning and blurring his eyes. But Yuuji refused to let them fall for fear that once he began to cry, he would have no way of stopping.

“(Y/N),” Yuuji choked out, “I’m scared. What will become of me now?”

No answer. Not even an echo this time. Nothing but the depressing, disheartening, damned silence that he’d been sentenced to against his will. Yuuji nearly found himself wishing for that wretched dream loop to reignite, but of course, things had yet to go the way he’d planned. 

“You.”

The poor maid halted in her tracks upon being addressed out of the blue, thoroughly frightened by the frenzied look on her lord’s face. A frantic Megumi had been rushing through the corridor as though a man on a mission. Something must’ve happened; was it the duchess? Was it Sir Itadori? She knew better than to ask.

“Me, Your Grace?” She squeaked, ducking her head to avoid Megumi’s gaze.

“Yes, you.”

His voice was firm, stony.

“Find the doctor and send her to the East Wing immediately.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

As the maid scurried away, Megumi regained his panicked stride. Sweat beaded his forehead, but his hands were cold and clammy with fear.

There couldn’t have been a worse timing for what was happening. It had been over a week since Yuuji descended into his coma, and Megumi had upheld his promise to (Y/N), swamping himself with all matters related to investigating the case. But because his time had been so preoccupied between outside relations and (Y/N), he’d neglected the first person that he had sworn to repay. 

Of course, (Y/N) was unaware of it all. He didn’t dare tell her. If he had learned anything about her by now, it was her unyielding sense of responsibility. Without a doubt, she’d blame herself for what was happening, and he wanted nothing less than for her to be at peace of mind. 

Unbeknownst to Megumi, the doors to the library were ajar as he passed by, and his wife was able to identify the fear in his movements in the mere moments that she saw him.

Where was he going? What was happening?

(Y/N) paused to think. The direction in which he was headed was the East Wing of the castle, where their living quarters were located along with the captain’s and lieutenant’s. 

And Yuuji’s.

A thought, too morbid and daunting to even imagine, darted through her mind. She banished it as fast as it had arrived, afraid to even entertain the idea for too long. But the seed of doubt was unraveling.

It had been over a week with no reactions. No sign of a change for the better.

It couldn’t be . It couldn’t possibly be.

She’d checked on him this morning, and the sun had barely begun to set just now. He was most certainly fine mere hours ago. She wanted to believe that Yuuji was still fine. 

But the constant reassurance (Y/N) had been feeding herself for the past week was beginning to sound like words of denial to her. Before her mind could react, her body was lurching towards the door and hurrying after Megumi’s receding figure. She nearly tripped on the hem of her skirt, however, cursing as she hiked up her dress in both hands. The sound of her heels clicking against the tiles as she hurtled down the hall mirrored the hammering of her heartbeat in her temples. With each click, (Y/N) prayed.

Please.

Please, please, please.

In her heart, she knew that Yuuji was fine. In her mind, she continued to repeat to herself that he was alright. Unease gripped her stomach, but (Y/N) could only force the sickening feeling back down. 

But then she watched Megumi sprint past the officers’ corridor, instead continuing straight down the hall where their chambers were. Almost instantly, the heavy sensation that sat on her heart lifted. Her pace slowed to a hasty walk, confusion replacing a good portion of her dread. 

He didn’t stop at their room either. He was going further down the hall, but there was only one room left before the hall ended in a dead end. (Y/N) had no idea what or who that chamber housed; she’d only ever seen the same servants come in and out. In fact, she hadn’t actually considered the likelihood that someone resided in it until now.

Megumi had skidded to a stop at the doors, throwing them open with impatience and alarm too strong to brush off. For a moment, (Y/N) contemplated whether it would be unfounded of her to barge in with him. It was very likely a private room, one that he likely had yet to find the right reason to explain as to why it was there. She knew Megumi to be secretive, but that also meant that she knew he wouldn’t have hidden something deliberately from her. No, there must be a reason why.

Her footsteps slowed. Her conscience screamed at her to turn away, to remain curious. There was never a justified reason for spying on others or eavesdropping, but it would appear that none of her senses were within her control at the moment. 

The doors were wide open. Megumi hadn’t bothered to shut them behind him in his haste and the maids he sent scrambling out had already disappeared from the hall. Against her better judgment, (Y/N) paused in the doorway, stunned.

The sight before her was grotesque. It was unsightly and bizarre and enough to make a person sick. 

Enough that she was unsure whether to remain aghast or call for help. 

There was a bed directly across from the entrance, adorned elegantly with a canopy and curtains. But it did nothing to conceal the things it was meant to hide. Blood sullied the white sheets, large splatters of a dark crimson color. Even from where she stood, (Y/N) could smell the metallic scent that she was all too familiar with everywhere within the chamber. It was overwhelming.

Atop the bed sat a lady, who was heaving with all her might, fighting to breathe between the coughs that wracked her thin frame. She was trying to push Megumi away with one feeble arm, the other doing its best to contain the visible trickle of red that escaped her palm from the spaces between her stained fingers. The lady’s dark hair hung haphazardly before her face, but (Y/N) was able to catch a glimpse of bright brown eyes brimming with tears, begging for help.

Begging for salvation. 

The duke, with a harrowing expression of torture, was fumbling to find something that only he seemed to know about.

(Y/N) couldn’t avert her eyes. It was such a jarring scene that she couldn’t bring herself to turn away even if she wanted to. The impending sense of helplessness kept her rooted to the ground; there was nothing she could do to help the poor woman. Even she knew that whatever was happening was far beyond whatever cure their current medicine could offer. 

In a flash of consciousness, (Y/N) was able to pick past the bloody corners of the lady’s mouth and the pasty pallor to realize that she recognized her. 

It was her.

The young lady from the portrait that hung on Megumi’s wall. 

“Your Grace—! Oh, Your Highness. You’re here too.”

The honeyed tone of Makoto rang from beside (Y/N), effectively jarring her out of her dazed horror. She snapped her head towards the doctor, still trying to comprehend the sight before them. The terror must’ve been evident on her face, however, as Makoto was quick to offer a shake of her head. 

“Fret not, Your Highness. The lady will be just fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Makoto hurried forward, ushering the horror-stricken duke out of her way to attend to her patient. Having been discharged from his job, Megumi stepped back, noticeably swaying on his feet as he did so.

Had this been a different situation, (Y/N) would’ve taken a second to appreciate the fact that Megumi was capable of expressing more fear than she’d expected. But this was not the fear that one could pass with a joke.

This was the pure, unbridled fear of losing someone important. It was the same fear he’d regarded her with when she’d returned from the orphanage incident. 

So who was she? And why had she been kept alone in this chamber tucked away from the rest of the castle?

(Y/N) watched Megumi swallow back his tears and nerves, unconsciously stepping in his direction.

Click.

The sound of her heels seemed to draw him out of whatever nightmare he was reliving as his head snapped upward in her direction. She froze once again. The sound of coughing and hushed whispers overtook the room. Something softened in Megumi’s features as he came striding towards (Y/N), the latter who was now waiting to be berated. 

So when he pulled her into a hug, she breathed in a sharp inhale out of shock. What’s gotten into him? Megumi kept one arm around her waist, pressing her into him as one hand cradled the back of her head. Over his shoulder, she could see Makoto trying her best to coax the lady to drink something from a glass vial. 

“Let’s step outside,” Megumi mumbled as he pulled away, his normally alert gaze dark with remorse. One hand moved to her wrist, where she could feel how he trembled. Megumi positioned his frame to break (Y/N)’s field of view, disentangling her from the mess behind him. “You weren’t meant to see any of this.”

“I, I thought, I saw you running past, so I assumed the worst,” (Y/N) stuttered, trying to erase the image from her mind as she scanned his features. 

“I thought it was Yuuji. I’m so sorry.”

Her confession was quiet, hardly above a whisper. It was normal to worry for her childhood friend, (Y/N) reasoned to herself. But it felt insensitive to bring it up in the present when the stranger she’d just seen was suffering through what could’ve been life or death. (Y/N) almost wanted him to scoff at her, or maybe even sigh in disbelief. But, ever the one to be understanding, all Megumi offered was a nod. Although his frown seemed to grow grimmer. 

“I know. You have nothing to apologize for.”

The water running against (Y/N)’s hand was cold, though it barely held a flag to the iciness of Megumi’s hands. She wrung out the towel that she had been washing before hurrying back to her husband perched on the edge of their bed. 

He’d led her away from that room, and she’d let herself be taken away, never fully snapping out of it until the doors to their bedroom had closed. But (Y/N) could still smell it—the sharp, distinctive coppery smell that refused to go away. Even as she helped Megumi out of his stained vest, flashes of the fresh memory still plagued her. 

Megumi sat with his head hanging in what appeared to be defeat, his face overshadowed by the fringes of his hair. The man stared at the literal blood staining his fingers, his expression unreadable to the approaching (Y/N). Her frown deepened as he picked up his head to meet her gaze with red-rimmed eyes. As though he was fighting back tears. It was the second time she’d seen him this concerned and the first that he’d been on the edge of crying.

What was he thinking about? What was running through his mind right now?

(Y/N) wished there wouldn’t be any more reasons for such sorrow again. 

“Here, let me,” she said, taking one of his hands into hers as she began to wipe the blood from his hands.

Without putting up much of a fight, Megumi let her do just that. She didn’t dare to meet his eyes in the moment, though if she had, she would’ve seen his glossy eyes regaining the warmth she’d grown to know.

“I’m sure you have many questions.”

His sudden recognition caused (Y/N) to waver. Her motions stopped in mid-air, hovering as she held her position.

Of course, she had questions. It was only natural to have questions after witnessing something so shocking. Who was that lady? What was she suffering from? Why has she never seen her before until today, and why did Megumi keep it a secret?

And most importantly, what was her relation to Megumi?

But (Y/N) suppressed her urges. She already felt as though she was overstepping as an outsider; why force herself even further into this?

“And I’m sure you have your reasons,” she replied, resuming her cleaning before reaching for his other hand. “You needn’t feel pressured to explain anything to me, so please take your time.”

The small smile she cracked at Megumi bounced right off, however, and she could see the tears pooling in his eyes again before he turned his head away. But his hand that she was holding clenched onto hers in determination. 

“She’s my sister,” Megumi blurted, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

For a second, (Y/N) could only stare in response to the revelation. They were siblings? Surely not. At least not by blood. Even though it was a brief moment that (Y/N) saw her, she’d admired Megumi’s face enough times to know that the two shared no resemblance besides the dark hair. Unless her illness had morphed her features, there was no explanation for them being blood-related siblings. 

“I see,” (Y/N) mused, her tone gentle and encouraging so that he wouldn’t shrink away. She tossed aside the soiled towel after confirming that Megumi’s hands were now free of that unpleasant color. 

“Not by blood. But she’s still very much my sister. My father never married again after my mother’s death, but he brought her home one day with him without a warning. We were only told that he knew of her mother, who’d died from a disease and left her in our care. She’s adopted the Fushiguro name since.”

Megumi took a deep breath, swiping at his eyes with his unoccupied arm. 

“After my father’s disappearance, she raised me alone when she was still a child herself. We were on our own for several years before His Majesty reached out. An education, a governess to look after us, a chance to be something greater than groveling in the dirt. That was what your brother promised and provided to us. But I was unaware of the future he’d had in mind for me.”

(Y/N)’s gaze trailed down to Megumi’s hand, her thumb grazing over the various nicks and faded scars that decorated it. Here was another person forced to do what he needed to survive in the cruel reality that was their world. 

“...Do you know what’s causing her condition?”

He shook his head. “We don’t. It only started when I was granted this title, but no doctor had been able to solve the root of the problem.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brows at this. “But Makoto had her drinking something from a vial just now.”

“Makoto is the first person to have found something that helps, not a cure. She calls it an elixir. It keeps the symptoms at bay for an allotted amount of time but requires regular doses to maintain.”

“Has Makoto ever disclosed to you what specifically she’s given your sister?”

Another shake of his head. “No, she refuses to. But given that it works, I’ve stopped questioning her about it.”

Suspicious. (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel mildly unsettled at the odds of it all. A doctor who approached the Grand Duke out of the blue and the only one to know of a potential treatment when others have failed. She peered at Megumi, confused as to why he hadn’t looked further into the circumstances.

But when she imagines Satoru living with the same condition, it all makes sense. Whether or not the methods were skeptical, it was one way to sustain his sister. Even if Megumi had been wary of Makoto to begin with, he must’ve denied his doubts in return for some peace of mind knowing his sister was suffering less because of the treatment.

"I had no malicious intent in keeping this a secret from you,” Megumi explained, finally meeting her gaze again. “She was the one that asked me to. In her mind, she thinks she’s unfit to greet the Crown Princess in her current state. After today, I can only imagine how mortified she’s feeling.”

For some reason, this caused (Y/N)’s heart to sink. The feeling spread until the pain resonated with a dull strum; it felt as though thousands of needles had been driven into her. Here was a person condemned to what might be a lifetime of torment, driven into isolation by her own self-sacrifice. (Y/N) was no saint. Not a deity, not the king himself. Her position was laughable, a mere honorary title up until recently, but his sister regarded it with such high respect that she went as far as to conceal her presence to save her brother’s face—or what she thought she was doing.

She wondered if Megumi had learned that part of his personality from her too.

Perhaps it was because she understood his sister’s way of thinking a little too well. For she too had hidden herself away in shame. Afraid to bring dishonor to her brother, afraid to bring too much attention to herself. Afraid that her illness would place a target on her head. 

But (Y/N) had grown so much and had people who helped her grow out of it. Maybe Megumi’s sister needed that as well. Maybe, she needed to be seen by someone with the same experiences.

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Tsumiki. Fushiguro Tsumiki.”

He’d stopped sniffling, his face already composed and eyes dry as though it had never happened. But the gratitude in his gaze told a different story. He was thanking her wordlessly for her empathy and her understanding. Or perhaps he was just relieved to know that (Y/N) wasn’t offended by the secret he’d kept from her. 

“Tsumiki.” She repeated, mulling over the name. “By any chance, will her episode persist into tomorrow?”

This time, it was Megumi’s turn to look confused, although he did respond with a shake of his head.

“She usually is better the day after receiving treatment. Why do you ask?”

The corners of (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards, a faint movement that did not escape Megumi’s observant eyes. 

If Tsumiki believed herself to be unfit to greet her, then she, as the Crown Princess, would go to greet her, the person responsible for molding Megumi into the person he was today.

“I believe I have a greeting that is long overdue.”

Chapter Text

The next dawn that broke was one of brilliance and the morning arrived with a sun shower. Against the gentle pitter-pattering, (Y/N) had awoken in Megumi’s arms, his steady breathing and heartbeat keeping her grounded. The windows to their bed chamber had been decorated with droplets of rain that directed slivers of rainbows onto the sleeping forms of (Y/N) and Megumi. It was a peaceful start, a stark contrast to how they’d spent the day prior. 

(Y/N)’s morning, however, was far from proceeding smoothly. 

“I’m afraid Lady Tsumiki is in no condition to hold an audience, Your Highness, Your Grace. I implore the two of you to visit on a different occasion.”

(Y/N) blinked. Nobara, dedicated as ever to her duties as lady-in-waiting, frowned from beside her. 

Tsumiki’s personal attendant possessed an unwavering attitude. Even though Megumi himself stood about five steps behind (Y/N), the Duke’s presence instilled not even a shred of fear in the girl. She was somewhat in disbelief, taking a moment to process the rejection. It was the first time (Y/N) had been told off since arriving in the Grand Duchy, and the first time someone of lower status had ever told her no. The way the maid held herself between the couple and the door was akin to a dragon protecting their treasure. Whatever bond they shared, it was one beyond mere contractual obligation. Remorse struck (Y/N) like lightning: did the maid believe that she was here to harass Tsumiki about her negligence? For not upholding social customs? Frankly, (Y/N) was not at all bothered by such trivial things. Even before the last hours of yesterday had been over, she’d already accepted that neither of the Fushiguro siblings was in the wrong: Tsumiki was protecting her brother, and Megumi was respecting his sister’s wishes.

Yet something told her the girl before her would have a hard time believing that explanation, especially from an outsider from the capital, Crown Princess or not. She must’ve assumed that (Y/N) was offended by Tsumiki’s concealment of her presence, and it would’ve been with good reason. After all, social etiquette was the strictest in the capital. Had it been another noble lady who’d married into the grand duchy, (Y/N) could only imagine the scandal it would’ve caused once word got around. 

“Not even for five minutes?” (Y/N) tried again, her plea soft and sweet, trying her best to smile. One more time, and if the answer remained no, then she’d simply come by on a different day. 

“Not even five seconds.”

Nobara, who had been noticeably itching with irritation, finally snapped: “Have some respect, will you?”

The brunette took a menacing step forward, only to be held back at the raise of (Y/N)’s hand.

The maid’s gaze grew even more steeled, her stance even more grounded.

The message was clear. (Y/N) would not be hearing the word “yes” from her anytime soon. 

Slightly disappointed, (Y/N) peered past the maid’s outstretched arms. The door to Tsumiki’s room behind her was cracked ajar. It was open enough that one could hear but not see what was happening on the other side. (Y/N) considered the situation. The hour was early. Perhaps, judging from the silence inside the chamber, the lady was still asleep.

She’d played all the cards she’d prepared. (Y/N) directed her gaze upwards at Megumi, who was watching the interaction with deadpan eyes. He’d already made it clear that his sister wasn’t necessarily an angel, and could even be as stubborn as a mule when it came to sticking by her ideals. (Y/N) had been so blinded by her confidence that she’d forgotten something crucial. Those who truly wanted to stay hidden would never uncover themselves easily. She should’ve known when she’d recently stepped out of that shadow herself. 

There was a fleeting moment during which she considered having Megumi convince Tsumiki on her behalf. But it felt wrong to use him to her advantage and she couldn’t bring herself to ask him, so instead, (Y/N) merely shook her head in defeat.

Next time. 

“Then,” (Y/N) offered a shallow curtsy out of courtesy, “I’ll come to see the lady another time.”

The maid offered nothing but a harrumph in response, to which even Megumi was beginning to look miffed. Rather than feel disrespected, (Y/N) merely spun on her heel, fully prepared to return to her official duties now that the doctor had cleared her of all charges. Megumi followed suit, sparing the door one last wistful look. He had wanted to apologize too: he hadn’t gotten the chance to yesterday and felt that his sister deserved an explanation for his absence. 

“Yuko.”

The voice, soft-spoken yet firm, carried itself into the hallway from behind the door. All three of them froze. (Y/N) had expected a voice scratched and hoarse from persistent illness, but Tsumiki’s voice held nothing but warmth and maturity that older sisters always seemed capable of. 

Yuko, the attendant, was the first to answer. She turned to face the door but didn’t open it any more than it already was. 

“Yes, my lady.”

A pause, followed by a cough. (Y/N) winced at how she could audibly hear the pressure forced onto her lungs. The medicine’s effect must be wearing off. How long until the next time it happens again? How long until Tsumiki was able to be free?

How could they be so sure there was no cure to the sickness?

“Let Her Highness in. And Megumi too, if he’d like to stay.”

She looked floored. Tsumiki might as well have struck her across her face. Yuko cast a glance at (Y/N), not so much malicious intent at the princess but more so concern for her lady.

“But, my lady, you mustn’t exhaust yourself so early out of an episode.”

“I will be just fine. Her Highness and Megumi are busy people, let’s not waste their time arguing over trivial mishaps. Please, allow them inside.”

There was reluctance in the way Yuko lingered before the door, but in the end, (Y/N) was shocked to see her finally concede as she stepped aside. Her head was bowed; whether it was to hide embarrassment or anger, (Y/N) chose not to pursue it. 

“Thank you” was the only thing she offered as she stepped past Yuko. But when neither Megumi nor Nobara followed, (Y/N) paused, eyeing them with an unspoken question.

“I’ll wait out here. I think it would be best for the two of you to speak alone,” Megumi confessed.

He was intentionally avoiding her gaze now. The sudden change in attitude caused (Y/N) to furrow her brows in vexation, but she let him be. Her attention then swiveled to her friend, who answered her with an exaggerated sigh. 

“I’m afraid that, per social etiquette, I am not allowed into another lady’s room without her invitation. I’ll wait out here as well.”

The words ‘I can’t believe her’ couldn’t be represented clearer by Nobara’s face. It amused (Y/N) just enough that she had to snuff a chuckle before it had the chance to make its appearance.

“Very well then, I’ll be brief.”

The room, when (Y/N) entered, was brighter than it had been yesterday. Unlike last time, the curtains to the windows were now open, allowing for the sunlight to pour in from every corner of the chamber. It illuminated the willow-like veils of the canopy, and, as (Y/N) drew nearer, she noticed that they were drawn open on one side. The sheets were once again pristine; not a single sign of the gruesome sight had been left behind. No longer did the room smell like blood, replaced instead with a faint floral scent. With a sweep of her gaze (Y/N) was able to locate the culprit. A vase of drooping lilies was the only decoration within immediate reach of the bed. Their white bell-like blossoms were fighting to cling to their remaining lifespan, a ring of brown circling the edge of the petals while the stem remained a healthy green.

Much like their owner, who was sitting up propped against her headboard. 

Without the blood and desperation marring her face, Fushiguro Tsumiki was a beauty to behold. That wasn’t to say the traces of sickness weren’t evident in her complexion: her face was gaunt and her eyes tired, though it did little to detract from the elegance and poise she possessed. It was as though she had been raised as a noble her entire life. One would hardly second guess if they weren’t aware of her background.

Something in particular caught (Y/N)’s eyes: a strange pattern of jagged marks was visible beneath Tsumiki’s collarbone. The marking coiled like a snake, the ink dark and the edges like thorns, before it disappeared under the bodice of her dress.

Something felt uncannily familiar about it, but her memories were–for some reason–fuzzy. Where had she seen that before?

But the musing was broken by a flurry of movements. Tsumiki was clamoring her way out of bed. With strength that appeared to drain her, she was tossing and shifting the duvets that weighed her down. (Y/N), alarmed, hurried forward, ushering her back under the blankets. There was a frantic glint in Tsumiki’s eyes that the princess understood all too easily.

The apologies were rolling before (Y/N) could even attempt to exchange pleasantries:

“I am most deeply regretful, Your Highness. Please forgive my brother and I. Our intentions are not meant to offend–”

“My lady,” (Y/N) interjected as she sat on the edge of the bed, taking one of Tsumiki’s bone-chillingly cold hands in hers, “Rest assured that I am not here to spite you. Nobody needs to be forgiven here when no offense has been committed. I’ve merely come to atone for lost conversation.” 

Faced with (Y/N)’s reassurance, Tsumiki wore an expression not far from astonishment. Although, it didn’t last long, and was immediately replaced with a relieved smile.

“So it is true.”

Confused, (Y/N) listed her head to one side. “What is?”

“That the Grand Duchess is as benevolent as they come. The rumor mill amidst the servants work rather hard, you see.”

Of course, it did. But she hadn’t stopped to consider that word of mouth would’ve carried itself to this isolated chamber.

As though she could read (Y/N)’s train of thoughts, Tsumiki added: “Yuko shares with me what she hears. I’ve heard about the reconstruction of the orphanage, and how you were at the forefront of the operation yourself.”

The look on Tsumiki’s face was fond. Her admiration felt all too genuine for someone she was just meeting for the first time. In contrast, (Y/N) was growing bashful, lowering her gaze as warmth flushed her cheeks. Was she meant to say thank you and accept the compliments? Or would it be more fitting to be humble and deny the praise for something that should’ve been attended to years ago?

She wasn’t given the opportunity to decide as Tsumiki continued to speak.

“I must say, when Megumi told me he’d agreed to marriage with the Crown Princess, I was shocked. And willingly at that.” A twinkle of lighthearted mischief lit up Tsumiki’s fatigued eyes. “Your Highness has, no doubt by now, heard about the proposal he’d rejected before?”

The reminder was unwarranted, and the memory that it evoked felt as though it had happened ages ago. But it piqued (Y/N)’s interest and she finally picked up her head, returning the same level of curiosity that reflected in Tsumiki’s deep brown eyes. There was something else as well. Something that surpassed sympathy and bordered melancholy.

Tsumiki’s words circled (Y/N)’s mind. Willingly? Never. Nothing had been decided willingly. God forbid that term be used to describe any of the things that had led up to their union. But now, (Y/N) realized with a start, her and Megumi’s relationship had developed so naturally. By now, were their shared moments “willingly” or were they a form of coping?

“I… have heard. Which makes me believe that,” she chose her next words carefully, “the probabilities of His Grace agreeing to the arrangement as a means of pleasing my brother are rather high.” (Y/N) had to hold back a wince at the idea, even if she were the one to suggest it.

Since the first time she’d attempted to, the name Kurosu Hana had never been brought up between the two of them ever again. (Y/N), out of respect for Megumi, had refrained from conducting any form of research herself. Whatever he had to hide, it wouldn’t have been available in texts anyway. But to think that the topic would once again be brought up here was unexpected. (Y/N)’s violet gaze studied Tsumiki’s face, wondering what she might know. Amusement had taken over Tsumiki’s features; she looked as though she were holding back laughter. (Y/N) felt one of her brows raise.

It finally came in a bout that resonated like chimes, only to descend into a fit of coughs that she covered with the back of her hand. But if Tsumiki felt pain, it didn’t show. There was only entertained glee that glowed from her smile. 

“Megumi would not have agreed to marriage with just anyone, even if it meant to please the king. Kurosu Hana would’ve been a fitting marriage, a worthy alliance even. But that wretched boy didn’t so much as consider the proposal before rejecting it.”

“There is no other way for him to accept something if not willingly. You must remember that. Had he not felt anything for you at all, there would be no Grand Duchess, only the Crown Princess.”

Tsumiki punctuated her words with a soft pat on the back of (Y/N)’s hand, who felt as though she were phasing in and out of reality.

“You need not comfort me with lies, my lady.”

“Your Highness, I have no reason to lie.”

A greedy part of her wished that what Tsumiki had said was true, wanted it to be true. A reality where Megumi liked her for her as a person, not as a responsibility.

Then what about Yuuji? All those years craving for him to feel the same way she did. All those moments when she ached for reciprocation, only to be met with gentle letdowns. Did those moments no longer amount to him liking her as a person anymore?

She couldn’t entertain the prospect of it. It was wrong to harbor feelings for two men, but it was even more heartbreaking to consider that perhaps what she thought were romantic feelings towards Yuuji were nothing but moments of weakness. Born out of desperation to feel loved, to feel needed and sheltered by someone. 

(Y/N) couldn’t explain why she never felt that need by Megumi’s side.

Her eyes must’ve wandered in the time she was lost in her thoughts because when she came to, Tsumiki had traced (Y/N)’s gaze to the vase of flowers.

A few blinks later, (Y/N) found the new topic of conversation she’d been looking for. 

“Are those lilies of the valley? If my memory serves me right, they don’t bloom during the winter.”

Surprise flashed briefly across Tsumiki’s face. She tried to hide it, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of it. It hurt, just a little, but (Y/N) gathered that, among the things one would expect a hermit princess to be knowledgeable of, the art of horticulture was not one.

“Your Highness is well-informed. The lilies do wither during the winter, but for that reason specifically, I’ve made it so that they’d last the duration of the season. As I’ve done with the gardens throughout the estate.”

Fascinating.

But something was off. 

“...You,” (Y/N) began, brows slowly knitting together in suspicion, “made it so?”

Was this a form of intense gardening that she didn’t recognize? Or, she thought back to her first night arriving in the grand duchy, could it be true that magic had been involved as she'd susspected?

She watched as realization dawned upon Tsumiki. It was such a minute change, but her dilated pupils were more than enough to prove (Y/N)’s speculation. 

“You’re a mage,” (Y/N) breathed out in revelation at the same time Tsumiki began waving her hands in denial, shushing (Y/N) with a finger to her lips.

Her eyes were darting toward the door that (Y/N) had forgotten to close on the way in. As though she was waiting for someone to barge in, to persecute her for her offense.

This, (Y/N) frowned at. Mages were individuals born with an inherent reservoir of mana. They were revered in their kingdom, and even more so now that their population was on the decline. Even the royal family, whose ancestors had received the blessings of the very first mage, had outbred the mana from their genes after generations. It left the future Gojo offspring with only the hereditary ability of perception.

Up until (Y/N), that was. 

But the way that Tsumiki was fretting almost led (Y/N) to believe that it perhaps wasn’t the honor that she’d imagined it to be. How could that be? Magic, at your very whim and fingertips. An asset that both the houses of Gojo and Zenin feared. If the wielder intended to, it would take them little to no effort to take over the continent if they wanted to. But, she realized with a sinking revelation, a power that was feared by all is what made it all the more desirable. What’s to keep them from harming others to bolster their own gain?

The thought made her blanch. No one would have ambitions that large. Hopefully.

Tsumiki’s voice drew (Y/N) out of her thoughts, hushed and anxious.

“Your Highness, I must ask that you keep this between us. Megumi…isn’t keen on the idea of word traveling. I hope you’ll understand.”

Of course he wasn't. Tsumiki would have more than a loaded bounty on her head if it came to that. 

“He knows?” 

“Yes. Our family all knew. My mother,” Tsumiki choked on the word, swallowing her emotions as she tried it again, “my mother was one too. Before she passed.”

Her mother, a mage? (Y/N)’s thoughts circled back to what Megumi had told her, about how Tsumiki’s mother had died of a disease years prior. A daring thought crossed her mind: could it be the same case?

It was so odd to witness grief flash across someone’s face as they thought of their deceased parents. Unfamiliar with the feeling, (Y/N) studied Tsumiki’s face. Was this how she should’ve been? Was this how she might’ve looked had she felt anything towards her mother? To be threatened by tears, to have her heart clench in pain at the nostalgia the memories provoked?

(Y/N) would never be able to experience it. A mother-daughter relationship that shared only blood relations could never produce, never mind replicate, that warmth of love.

The projection of herself onto Tsumiki unnerved (Y/N), and guilt began to creep up on her. What was she thinking? How could she presume something so complex from a mere look ?

The older girl stared at (Y/N) with eyes too helpless to ignore. Somewhere, beneath all that made Tsumiki appear dignified and poised, was the shadow of a forgotten child. The responsibilities that had fallen upon her shoulders so suddenly had left her with no time to grow up normally. 

Empathy must’ve gotten the better of (Y/N)–it always did. In Tsumiki’s eyes, (Y/N) saw Satoru. Another tormented older sibling, another bright soul laid to waste by the cruel hands of fate. But where Satoru still held a glimmer of life, Tsumiki appeared to be content with the lingering threat of death. As though she welcomed it. 

(Y/N)’s hand tightened around Tsumiki’s.

“Not a word out of me, my lady. I promise.”

Her reassurance was met with a relieved smile, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Just (Y/N) is fine, my lady,” (Y/N) shrank inwards on herself. “It’s rather strange being addressed by title when in private.”

“Then that goes for you as well,” Tsumiki laughed. “You and Megumi are truly quite alike. More than he’d like to admit, I would think.”

“That’s what you think.”

The two girls jumped nearly simultaneously at the unwelcome male voice. (Y/N)’s head swiveled while Tsumiki brought her gaze upwards. They were greeted by a mildly disgruntled Megumi, whose eyes lingered for longer than necessary on the girls’ intertwined hands. Sheepishly, (Y/N) withdrew hers. She recognized the frown; it made her wonder if he had caught wind of their conversation just seconds before. 

“My word. When will you rid this habit of walking soundlessly?” Tsumiki berated, making to hit her brother with her pillow. The motion caught (Y/N) off-guard as she hastily dodged the flying object, but her husband merely took the brunt of it to his torso, grunting in discomfort. 

“There’s no need to be violent, Tsumiki. I’ve come to take (Y/N)’s place; she has business to attend to.”

Did she? (Y/N) regarded Megumi with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t usually a liar, but she wouldn’t put it past him if it meant keeping from digging too deep into what he thought might pose a threat to her safety. 

But he countered her skepticism with a steady gaze. Fine, not a lie then. They must have their own matters to discuss, and with her being an outsider, it would be an awkward conversation to have in her presence.

With an exaggerated sigh, (Y/N) stood up from where she’d sat, the hem of her skirt ruffling as she did so. 

“Then I suppose I should get going. I’ll be sure to stop by again another time, Tsumiki.” 

Megumi, though not the one being addressed, visibly raised a brow at the first-name basis they’d reached. There was faint amusement teasing at the corners of his lips, though, in true Megumi fashion, he hid it. 

With a sad smile, Tsumiki gave (Y/N) a parting wave.

“Don’t be a stranger, (Y/N). You’re family now.”

The word “family” struck her fancy. That’s right. That’s what they were now.

Their own family, comprised of the many strangers within this very castle. What a strange notion that was, yet it filled (Y/N)’s heart with enough joy to heal her inner child.

A figure was curled up in the alcove of the library’s largest bay window. Like a mad scientist desperate to find the breakthrough to her next great discovery, (Y/N) poured over the mountains of ancient texts piled before her. The uncertainty and intrigue her conversation with Tsumiki left her with were eating her alive. It consumed her from the inside, gnawing. Hungry for more, hungry for answers.

But there was a deeper, more rooted emotion that kept her rational: fear. There was something, or worse someone, lurking sinisterly within their kingdom's networks. Tsumiki’s illness, the decline of mages, and the attempted assassination: there were ties between the three cases that were undeniably related. An unknown disease targetting primarily those with mana, the magic population dying of uncurable illnesses, and the attempt to eliminate a princess who was thought to be a carrier. 

The concern now was to find out who was behind it, and most importantly, why.

She had already made several presumptions, none of which she wanted to entertain. 

Her eyes began to drift from the pages, distracted by the stars outside the window. Or the lack thereof. What should’ve been a clear night sky was uncharacteristically overcast by clouds. It promised rain, or perhaps finally, snow. Where she sat, it felt as though the earth had dropped from beneath her feet. The only separation between her and the sky was the mere pane of glass. And then beneath her, a bone-shattering drop. But the prospect of assassins was no longer as terrifying. No assassin was scarier than what was threatening the kingdom—her kingdom—and the thought of losing her citizens and her loved ones to a plotting villain. 

She tore her gaze away before the awful images in her mind could convince her they were reality. 

Mages, behemoths, celestial deities. All remnants of the magic and manifestations of their olden world that by now have either whittled away, been decimated, or reduced to mere constellations in the sky. 

The textbook (Y/N) had been reading now weighed heavily in her lap. A cloud of dust had accompanied it when she’d first picked it off the shelf. The leather spine and the front cover were written in barely legible gold lettering, cracked and faded. Its pages were yellowing and crinkled along the edges. A bookmark that might’ve once been satin separated sections from read and unread. No author's name was visible.

She’d been lucky that the words had disintegrated into the world when she’d opened it. 

Megumi hadn’t lied, after all. (Y/N), before she’d even had the chance to ask, had been herded into one of the briefing rooms with the team of soldiers tasked with the investigation into the orphanage case. They’d finally concluded their week-long interrogations and sifting and they wanted to present their case to the duchess herself.

Unfortunately for (Y/N), what little evidence they were able to gather only proved to create an even greater enigma. The workers she’d hired all gave verified alibis. No one had returned to the site once the work day had ended, and no one reacted with recognition to the handsaw they’d found at the scene. One officer argued that someone amongst the workers had to have been lying, but when given the option to extort it through torture, (Y/N) promptly declined. She reasoned that there was no reason for any of them to lie, given Megumi’s reputation. She’d heard of how stormy the duke had been during the sessions. The perpetrator, if they had been lying, would’ve been gambling with more than just their own lives.

It was mind-boggling. There were no witnesses. No one had remotely an idea of who might’ve been involved. Typically in a situation of mass panic, there would be finger-pointing and blame shifting onto others. But there were no visible slights in the testimonies that were given. 

And then there was the matter of the planning of the reconstruction. Mapped out in detailed lines and distinctive instructions, it only served to solidify that there should’ve been no reason for the roof to collapse in the way that it did. The architect who’d created the sketch had been more than offended to have their vision questioned. Never, he’d promised, never in his career had he ever had such an event occur. 

The handsaw, much to (Y/N)’s disappointment, had been a red herring. She’d theorized that there’d been some sort of contraption that would’ve resulted in the crumbling ceiling and required cutting–perhaps through a rope–to achieve its effect. But the remains of the collapse showed no signs of such a device. They did, however, find an odd marking engraved into the hilt. Two lines, jagged and akin to the sides of a mountain. And between them, one singular dot.

In the end, the findings only begged the question: How was the suspect able to return and then leave the work site undetected? And then in tangent, how were they able to accomplish such a feat without some sort of grand schematic?

Magic, another officer had offered, because how else would they do it?

The sentiments were split half and half. Some argued in support of the magic theory, others argued the practicalities of it. What they did agree on was to withhold a public announcement for the time being. There was too little to work with, and it would only incite unrest in the people and suspicions against each other. 

It kept coming back full circle, and (Y/N) was starting to grow uneasy with what she may have invited into the duchy. They’d managed to contain the casualties this time, but what about the next? And then the one after? Who else needed to sacrifice their well-being to ensure the safety of others?

The documents were now scattered all around her. It felt as though they were taunting her. Mocking her for her inability to solve the mystery before her. She’d read the papers multiple times by now, skimmed and reread the pages as though the contents might present something new if she tried enough times. But to no avail.

Frustration had then driven (Y/N) to divert her attention elsewhere, choosing instead to better understand Tsumiki’s condition through medicinal books. But there were no records of cases that tied to her symptoms. No mention of the unfamiliarly eerie mark that stained her skin. 

“...Did these papers anger you in some way for you to treat them so?”

(Y/N)’s heart nearly jumped out of her ribs. Megumi's voice, and by extension, him, had once again materialized out of nowhere.

“You know,” (Y/N) began, turning in her seat, “your sister has a point about this habit of yours…”

Her breath was quick to catch in the back of her throat when she came face to face with him, a breadth away from grazing his lips by accident.

But the distance didn’t seem to startle him. Or, she might’ve believed the nonchalant front he was putting up if not for the tips of his reddening ears. He was hovering over her shoulder, peering at the book lying in her lap. 

Megumi was getting bolder, more direct. And she didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“What is this?”

Swallowing her nerves, (Y/N) redirected her dazed eyes to the page her hand was keeping open. While it was true that the search for Tsumiki’s illness was turning up nill, she did, however, stumble upon an interesting tidbit hidden in the footnotes:

Sansumi, a flower grown and harvested only in the brutally chilled northern continent. Toxic in its entirety and enough to paralyze a healthy adult.

But the actual passage itself mentioned only the name. Everything that this author may have known about this mysterious flower was limited to the two-sentence description. 

“A product of curiosity is all. It’s been on my mind for quite some while now.”

“Curiosity…” Megumi mused, “This feels more like suspicion than curiosity, Your Highness. What could the doctor have done to warrant this?”

Her nose wrinkled as she gave him a mockingly disappointed look. The way he’d resorted to using her title only in moments of teasing was endearing. It was certainly a unique way of expressing his affection, but (Y/N) found that it worked for her. 

“Nothing, Your Grace.” She quipped back, closing the book with a gentle thud. She tried not to inhale the small cloud of dust that rose from the action. “I’m merely satisfying the thoughts that have been plaguing me.”

(Y/N) tried her best not to squirm under his scrutiny, yet ended up readjusting her position on the window ledge anyway when Megumi chose to settle on the side opposite her. He kept one leg outstretched, the other tucked towards his chest. Anyone less observant would’ve missed the way he was trying to accommodate the space she’d already occupied. They might’ve missed the way she automatically leaned her knee into his, the way he let her and didn’t pull away. 

But Megumi’s bashful nature was still noticeable in the way his gaze drifted to his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke.

“You’ve worked up quite the debate amongst my soldiers,” he said. “Magic and mages?”

She leaned over, reaching down to set the book on the floor beneath her. They hadn’t seen each other since the morning. Was Megumi fishing for scraps of what her conversation with Tsumiki entailed?

“Only one of many explanations. Though I fear it may be the most plausible one as of now. Why leave a marked object if it weren’t spelled?”

“You know mages are only capable of elemental control. Spells and blessings are restricted amongst citizens.”

“And you’re in the presence of someone whose heritage is a personified blessing. A second count of crime is hardly of concern to a plotting criminal.”

He picked his head up again. (Y/N) held his gaze. The air was silent for a moment before a look of comprehension darkened Megumi’s eyes. Guilt manifested in the form of a lump caught at the base of her throat, and she had to fight to keep feigning innocence. 

“Tsumiki told you.”

Lie, her voice echoed throughout her mind. You promised. 

But if Megumi had figured it out before she’d let it slip, did that really count as her breaking the promise? Her conscience was forcing her to comply otherwise.

“...No?”

She cringed at the pause and then the unconvincing tone that left her own lips, and even more so at the way her voice lilted, delivering the denial framed as a question. 

Megumi’s reply was preceded by a big scoff.

“(Y/N). Of all the things that you are good at, lying is not one of them.”

“Apparently,” she grumbled, finally breaking their eye contact. She folded her arms across her knees as she burrowed her head into them. He’d hid a compliment within his jab, but it wasn’t enough to keep (Y/N) from sulking. “I was only being true to Tsumiki’s wishes, as you did by never mentioning her to me.”

He visibly flinched. Like a wounded cat, Megumi withdrew his hands towards his torso, folding them across his chest.

“I suppose now we’re even. And I give you my word that there are to be no more secrets between us.”

What a dangerous proposal to make. Surely he knows what she would want the answer to next. She peered at Megumi from behind her curtain of bangs, trying to discern what games he was trying to play. Yet, she was met with nothing but sincerity. 

It was practically an open invite, and he was giving her no reason to turn it down. She hesitated to give him a chance to change his mind; it never came.

“We spoke very briefly about the marchioness.”

“I can assure you that Hana and I have no ties worth mentioning.”

It was such a rapid response, but all (Y/N) heard was the way he called her by her given name.

Hana.

Her name spilled so easily from his lips. (Y/N) never imagined herself as someone who got jealous easily, but the twinge in her chest proved otherwise. 

But, she smiled to herself bitterly, what use was there to be envious? At the end of the day, (Y/N) was already Grand Duchess. Divorce was out of the question and even if there were any lingering feelings between them, she’d be a hypocrite to judge them.

The soft grazing of his fingertips against her temple drew her out of her miserable conflict, and she found herself leaning into his touch as Megumi tucked her hair away from her face.

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head. You don’t believe me.”

“I do,” she immediately protested, her voice rising without meaning to. (Y/N) caught herself and frowned as he raised a brow. She tried again. “I do believe that the relationship between you two is not one of concern. It’s just…the past that I’m curious about.”

As though he’d expected such an answer, Megumi breathed a sigh of defeat. He wriggled in his seat, turning his face towards the window. The gesture bathed Megumi’s side profile in shadows. Yet his eyes remained visible, and they wandered from one point in the sky to another, as though recalling distant memories. 

“We first met when I was called for reinforcement during my last year of training.”

“Behemoths or rebels?” (Y/N) interjected.

Her interruption earned her a rueful look from him. “Behemoths. Right on the very borders of this duchy.”

This set their timeline back several years, to before Megumi had even been named the Grand Duke. Before (Y/N) had even known about Megumi’s relation to Satoru. A time that felt like centuries ago and just yesterday all in one. 

In true gentlemanly fashion, Megumi waited for her to give any last input. (Y/N) gestured for him to continue. 

“I hadn’t known she was the marquess’s daughter when we met. Actually, I’m no more of a stranger to high society now than I was then.”

His attempt to crack a joke at himself didn’t go unnoticed, and as dry as his humor was, (Y/N) found herself fighting to keep down the grin that was tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“The site of the attack had been on the marquess’s lands, and at his very estate. They’ve since relocated the manor, but the marquess never left.” Megumi paused here, casting his eyes downwards again. Sympathy wrung at (Y/N)’s heart; she could already predict the rest of the encounter. “I couldn’t save him. He’d already stopped breathing by the time I’d dealt with the wretched creature.”

There it was. That flash of a grimace every time Megumi was struck with guilt. She wanted to reassure him, but something held her back. A feeling told her that words of pity were not something he needed nor wanted to hear. Guilt and the taste of failure were what drove Megumi to grow. He was the type to learn from his past mistakes to ensure it never happened again.

So she kept quiet. And thankfully not for long as Megumi’s voice once again filled the abrupt silence. 

“My companions and I found Hana wandering the woods alone, in the grasp of a behemoth who’d slipped past us. She’d escaped at her father’s pleas and had been badly injured. I…I try not to think about what might’ve happened had we not heard her screams. That must’ve been when her infatuation began as well.”

It was (Y/N)’s turn to crack a joke now, but the moment it left her lips, she wished she could retract it: “Well it’s certainly hard not to fall in love with the man who saved your life. I can’t blame her.”

What had previously been bitter envy had boiled down to a painful understanding. Unfortunately, she knew all too well what it was like to put the one light that appeared in a life of darkness upon a pedestal. When everything else had been susceptible to being thrown off-course, only they remained stagnant.

Megumi didn’t respond; he merely fidgeted with his hands out of nervous habit. 

“To call it love is…ill-fitting. Her affections are one-sided, borne of obsession. Truthfully, I hadn’t given the encounter much thought after I’d returned from the post. But when she’d been recognized as marchioness, and me as Grand Duke, she’d pounced at the opportunity and sent her proposal. Relentlessly, I might add.”

“And you said no each time,” noted (Y/N). How very astute of her. She wanted to claw her tongue out.

The atmosphere had grown stuffy; what was there for her to say to save it? She blamed it on the notion that Megumi was not one to settle down for a heart-to-heart—in fact, this was the first time ever that they’d sat to have a conversation like this—so naturally, their conversation would take more push than pull. But she didn’t mind. As someone once said, they had all the time in the world to know each other, and she wished only comfort for the rest of his life.

If understanding Megumi was to be a lifetime process, (Y/N) wouldn’t mind. 

“Yes, I did. I don’t doubt that you’ve heard all about it already.”

She wanted to ask why, but even without having to, (Y/N) felt that she already knew the reason behind his rejection. To be treated as a possession by the king was one thing; the king could feel entitled to Megumi’s servitude on the grounds that the boy’s new life was given by him. But to be claimed as the possession of a lady he’d only met once, while risking his life for her safety, must’ve been jarring. Perhaps that’s why Megumi always expressed a deep indifference towards nobility and its hierarchy.

She found herself agreeing, not just understanding, with him. It was stifling, and she wasn’t referring to just the entitlement rooted in her fellow peers. She was thinking about all the years she spent yearning for Yuuji to return the same fixation that she’d placed upon him. 

Was this how Yuuji felt sometimes? All the time? When he had no other choice but to be at her beck and call. Knowing that she’d always assumed that he was hers, without considering his perspective. How selfish she must’ve appeared to him, knowing that he had already overstepped the limits of his duty. To keep her satisfied; to keep her happy. 

But was he ever happy?

She wished that he was awake and well in the moment. She wanted to barge into his room and apologize. For all that had happened, and for all that’s to come. The balance between them was skewed, and though she never doubted that Yuuji’s emotions weren’t genuine, it would merely bring more harm to the both of them.

And then there was the matter of her and Megumi. No different from any other stranger, they’d started off wary and cautious of each other. They’d married within two weeks of knowing of one another, and during which he’d caught her at her most vulnerable. How was their dynamic anymore different than his and Hana’s?

“Then,” her mind was growing foggy, overrun with thoughts and emotions, “then what about us?”

She was met with furrowed brows, his confusion and exasperation melting into one. Immediately, her first reaction was to explain herself.

“It’s just that you speak of arranged marriages with such disdain, I find it hard to believe that you haven’t once thought ill of our relations.” She frowned. “After all, you weren’t in a position to reject this one.”

But she didn’t detect any anger from him. Just mild impatience as one might become having to explain themselves time and time again. It was a new look that she’d yet to see on Megumi’s face, and the dim lighting only highlighted his prominent features. 

“No, I was not. But even though we had been given no other choices, this, you,” he gently knocked the side of her knee with his, “are not one that I regret. I don’t believe I will.”

His words hid a hint of a smile. A fuzziness that wasn’t associated with the cloudiness of her mind was spreading in (Y/N)’s chest. The reassurance, the gesture. They were simple, but the weight they held was heavy. And because it had come from Megumi that made it all the more sincere.

“...I’m waiting, Your Grace.”

“For what?” Thoroughly confused this time, he cocked his head ever so slightly to his left. The smile had faded as quickly as it had arrived. Disappointing, but not surprising. 

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes jokingly, “Were you not going to admit that I’m a great asset to the duchy? Is that not why you’ve yet to regret bringing me here?”

She’d almost expected to be met with a look of incredulity, perhaps even lectured for her insolence. Yet all Megumi gave her was a casual shrug. A faint glint in his gaze conveyed an emotion that (Y/N) couldn’t decode; all she knew was that he was withholding something from her. 

“Think what you will. That’s all I have to say.”

“Your Grace,” (Y/N) nudged him with her knee, pretending to be appalled, “you said no more secrets.”

He laughed, a soft chuckle that brightened his face. With one slender finger, Megumi tapped at his temple twice.

“Not a secret. Just a matter of how you take it, Your Highness.”

(Y/N) blinked, before letting out a lighthearted scoff that turned into a crooked grin. What a tease. It was out of character for him, but it was a nice change of antics. It was almost enough to drive away the negative feelings their conversation had instilled in her. 

A flurry of motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and (Y/N) turned to look out the window. 

Then practically threw herself at the glass in wonder. The loud thudding that resulted caused Megumi to flinch. His instinct was to reach out for her hand, while logic told him that she’d be fine; the very walls of this castle were fortified for defensive measure. Yet, her incident still haunted him endlessly. 

“Megumi…it’s snowing,” breathed (Y/N) as she pressed her forehead into the glass. Her awe fogged up the window before her. 

And so it was, Megumi noticed as he studied the steady, gentle snowfall that peppered the night scenery. They drifted as light as a feather and proved to be the perfect stand-in in the absence of the stars. Beneath them, the gardens and surrounding woods had begun to grow pale as the snow blanketed the branches and blossoms alike. 

He peered down at (Y/N) with newfound adoration. It was nothing new to him; after spending two winters in the harsh north, one begins to treat the snow as a common event. But, Megumi had to remind himself that there had been no chance for her to bear witness to something such as this in the south. She’d been waiting and waiting since she’d learned about it. He couldn’t possibly dampen her excitement with his detachment. 

Her fascination, her natural inclination for the curiosities of life: it was, in his eyes, the most charming aspect about her. 

“It’ll still be here even without you hounding it like so,” Megumi promised her, softly pulling (Y/N) away from the window. Her gaze came with it, and the pools of hyacinth purple that reflected up at him stirred the very strings within Megumi’s heart. Her eyes promised inspiration amongst mischief. 

Oh no.

But she was already slipping past his touch, gathering her skirt in a bundle as she scurried away towards the library doors.

“Megumi, hurry!”

“Wait!” He called, frantically searching around him to search for a cloak or anything of the sort. “(Y/N)! It’ll be freezing out there!”

But her footsteps were already sounding fainter and fainter, moving further and further out the door. Megumi groaned into the now-empty chamber. This impulsive nature; he couldn’t tell if it resembled her brother more or Yuuji. His concern for her outweighed his search for a coat, and in the next heartbeat, he found himself chasing after her receding figure down the corridor, the balcony, and then out the front gates. He spared himself a few seconds to thank the fact that there was no one around to see the spectacle taking place. 

When she came to a halt in the midst of the front gardens, so did he. Their shoes tracked two pairs of distinct footprints in the otherwise unbothered snow. A frigid gust bit into his skin past the thin fabric of his shirt, and as (Y/N) reached up with one hand to catch the snowflakes, no doubt hers as well. The dress looked far too thin to keep her warm and he could see the reddening tips of her fingers and nose. He wanted to usher her back inside before she fell ill from the cold.

The snow settled on her lashes and hair like the fine dusting of sugar on those pastries she loved, disappearing as the shades of white collided. Her exhales painted a cloud in the air from her lips; Megumi had to distract himself from them when he felt his thoughts straying. If the temperature affected her at all, (Y/N) did not let it show. When she directed her smile at him, the smile that illuminated her features with delight too pure to smother, Megumi’s heart lurched. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

A few minutes outside should be fine.

Megumi’s concerns were misplaced, at least for the time being. The excitement coursing through (Y/N) provided her with more warmth than necessary.

What a beautiful existence it was. So fragile that it dissolves with a touch. So fleeting that it felt as though the stars had descended onto the very earth she stood upon. Yet under enough pressure, it could weigh enough to cave in a building. With enough layers, it could bury a person whole. So deadly, yet so beautiful. 

“I wish Yuuji was awake for this,” she murmured, her eyes trained on the crystals melting into pools of water on her palm. “He’d love it.”

A hand as gentle as the snowfall ruffled (Y/N)’s hair. Megumi was carefully brushing the specks of snow from her locks, a knowing smile just barely visible on his lips.

“The first snowfall only marks the beginning of many more to come. There’ll be plenty of other opportunities.”

She stared at him, deciphering his words, his emotions. Megumi returned her gaze, pensive and conflicted. His hand hadn’t left; it cradled the back of her head, his warmth radiating impossibly to the nape of her neck. 

The setting was almost too perfect. The snow-covered garden, the glow of the lantern orbs, their breaths close enough to blend. Underneath the clouded night sky, they alone formed their own constellation amidst the flurry.

He wouldn’t. 

She wouldn’t.

Not here, not now. There were still so many things left unresolved, so many things to learn about each other. She feared this was an impulse on her end. She feared that it was stupid intrigue stemming from unbridled desire. Yet it seemed their bodies were traitors to their minds as Megumi directed her closer, and (Y/N) allowed herself to be. 

A thundering sound approaching in their direction froze the two in their tracks. As though shaken from a trance, they immediately stepped apart to put distance between themselves, both attempting to hide the blush coloring their cheeks. 

“...That sounds like a carriage,” (Y/N) remarked, avoiding eye contact altogether as she cleared her throat. 

“We aren’t expecting guests…” Megumi trailed off. He used her avoidance as an excuse to narrow his eyes down the garden path, as though he could make out anything this far away. A shame that (Y/N) would completely miss the way he suddenly stiffened, as though he’d only just recalled something important. 

They first spotted the horses, and then the coachman. (Y/N) steeled her nerves, but confusion continued to prevail. Who could it be arriving this late at night? And unannounced at that? Whatever it may be, or whoever it was, it signified something of urgency. 

But as the carriage drew close enough for (Y/N) to make out the white and gold embellishments, recognition struck her like an anvil to metal. Her stomach sank.

There, imprinted on the front of the carriage head, was a crest engraved with the shape of a plum blossom. She was all too familiar with it.

Someone from the capitol was here. Someone bearing news from the King himself. 

Chapter Text

“What…?”

(Y/N)’s disbelief faded into the winter air before her. All matters of joy and anticipation had dissipated, leaving only confusion and the undeniably familiar sense of anxiety from how she could feel the steady uptick in the rhythm of her heart. Her eyes scanned the carriage, studied the driver, and scrutinized the crest embedded against its side.

There was no doubt that the carriage hailed from the palace; that family emblem had practically been branded into the depths of her brain. But what reason would’ve brought the king out to the northern territories? Even given his position as her brother, (Y/N) couldn’t imagine him abandoning his post to visit. To see her.  

Could he have? Surely, Satoru must’ve been frantic to learn that there had been an attempt on her life so soon upon leaving the palace. Surely, the thought of her safety being compromised must’ve driven him up the walls.

She knew her expectations were all for nothing, but (Y/N) did nothing about the swell of hope in her chest.

The driver at the helm, a tall and bulky man of impressive stature, swung his legs off his seat with one fell swoop and approached the carriage doors. Beyond the windows, the curtains were drawn so that not even the shadows could be used to discern the identities of those behind them. Ironically so, given that the plum blossom crest so brazenly announced the origin of the carriage.

“(Y/N).”

Megumi finally spoke, directing his gaze back towards her. She met his eyes and was promptly taken aback by the change in demeanor. It was like the winter breeze itself had frosted him over. He looked nervous.

(Y/N) could feel her brows knitting together in suspicion. Megumi, someone who couldn’t be bothered to keep up with formalities, nervous to face nobles? How unheard of. Unless there was something else completely that worried him.

“I may have forgotten to mention–”

“Your Highness.”

…Oh.

It wasn’t Satoru, after all. Of course it wasn’t. 

A familiar voice had carried itself from within the carriage. It was still a welcoming one, but (Y/N) could feel her hopes plateauing and then splattering like rotten tomatoes on the face of a disgraced actress. It must’ve been written in her expression from the way Megumi winced. 

A man with a tall frame and dark hair emerged from the shadows. Monolid eyes curved into crescents when he smiled, a gesture that undoubtedly won him all too many arguments and negotiations, hand in hand with his presence that instilled just enough intimidation yet drew you in regardless.

A brother, a friend.

Most importantly, an ally. 

“Suguru,” (Y/N) finally breathed out, trying to smother her disappointment with a smile of her own. Though, she knew it likely lacked the same effect as his. 

But what business would the king’s very own chancellor and marquis—never mind his one best friend—have out in the northern Fushiguro grand-duchy?

Suguru, as though expecting her reaction, sighed in mock defeat.

“I understand I’m no Satoru, but Your Highness could at least humor me by looking even the slightest excited.”

His jest caused (Y/N) to crack a smile.

“If I had been informed prior to your arrival, there would have been time for me to build some anticipation.”

For a brief moment, what (Y/N) registered as confusion flickered in Suguru’s gaze. She watched as his eyes flitted in Megumi’s direction then back, as though piecing parts of a puzzle together. The Grand Duke shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other under the marquis’s scrutiny and remained silent. 

A smile, one of mischievous amusement that can only be produced when experiencing the joy of tormenting their younger sibling with matters of the heart, tugged at the corners of Suguru’s lips.

“I see now,” he began, taking a step towards (Y/N). He stretched out his arm, patting the crown of her head with a reserved gentleness. (Y/N)’s nose wrinkled in response: somehow, the two of them always found a way to make her feel like a child, but because it wasn’t born out of malice, she saw no reason to pull away.

“Young couples such as yourselves have much to learn, after all.”

The blow was not lethal, but it was enough to make the two self-conscious. (Y/N)’s brows furrowed, Megumi averted his gaze. (Y/N) was no idiot; she knew very well what was being implicated. And she intended to have Megumi face the consequences later. In private.

Before either of them could recover to get a word in, their conversation was interrupted from within the carriage:

“Quit teasing them, Suguru. At least they still have their brightest years ahead of them.”

(Y/N)’s head whipped around. 

This time, a lady emerged, dressed comfortably in a white tunic and black trousers. Her black coat billowed against the calves of the riding boots she wore as she unboarded the carriage. Behind a curtain of sleek, long brown hair were eyes ridden with exhaustion that rivaled Yuuta’s. But they glinted with an unmistakable intelligence. A kind, lazy smile graced her lips as she greeted the princess:

“Long time no see, little cygnet.”

The room was unbearably silent. The five of them each occupied their own space in Yuuji’s chambers. By the foot of his bed, (Y/N) and Megumi hovered in suspense. Nobara was perched atop the arm of Yuuji’s couch with her arms crossed, the lack of patience poorly concealed in her eyes. On the opposing end of the couch sat Suguru with one leg crossed over the other. His head was propped up on one hand, his expression unreadable as he watched with vigilance. 

The fifth person, the woman who had so brazenly addressed (Y/N) by a term used for baby swans, was Ieiri Shoko. The only daughter of the magically prestigious, politically neutral Ieiri House, she’d chosen to hone her academic prowess as a doctor rather than pursue a life as heir to her father’s county. She’d already achieved the role of history’s youngest royal physician by the age of 20 and, as one of Satoru’s closest confidantes, became the only medical staff that he could entrust (Y/N) to. 

She wouldn’t go as far as to claim their relations felt familial: in the eight years that (Y/N) knew her, Shoko saw her as Satoru’s younger sister and a patient. Nothing more, nothing less. Special pet names aside, their interactions had been little outside of the routine exams. Someone with a spirit as free as Shoko’s gave the impression of nonchalance to all; it would make no difference to (Y/N) whether Shoko cared for her existence. Yet, (Y/N) admired her, as she always did towards those with whom Satoru chose to surround himself. Partially because they were able to work alongside him, though mostly because they were often the brightest minds in one sense or another. But particularly for Shoko, whose family recognized and accepted her for who she was. 

Was it admiration, or was it envy?

Having her here made (Y/N) even more nervous. If someone with medical instincts as sharp as Shoko’s had no idea how to cure Yuuji, what other options were left?

A soft hum of curiosity drew (Y/N) out of her thoughts, her gaze refocusing just in time to see Shoko tucking the blanket back under Yuuji’s limp arms. For a moment, there was pity in her eyes, but by the next when she met (Y/N)’s gaze, it was replaced by mild intrigue. 

“Well, Your Highness, I fear this is quite an interesting case in your hands,” Shoko remarked. With skillful hands, she slid off the gloves she’d been wearing and tucked them back into her box of tools. 

(Y/N) stiffened, casting Yuuji a worried look. What did an “interesting case” entail? A light touch on her shoulder reminded her of Megumi’s presence, a reminder to stay calm. 

She mustered up the courage and asked: “How so?”

Shoko regarded her with a bemused expression, then at Megumi.

“Your Grace, pardon my impertinence, but I assume there is a resident physician within the castle grounds?”

(Y/N) frowned. Why did she dodge the question?

“Yes, we have one,” Megumi replied, looking nearly, if not just as baffled as (Y/N).

“Then,” Shoko continued, one finger outstretched as she gestured at Yuuji’s sleeping form, “pray tell, how your physician explained the circumstances here to you?”

It was Megumi’s turn to frown now. (Y/N) nudged him with her hip, a gentle warning that he was to cooperate if they wanted her help. 

“She’d…” he hesitated, “explained the unconscious state as a result of trauma to the head. There had been some sort of antidote that she’d been administering to him for the past week, and that’s all I’ve been aware of.”

“Right. And were there other staff that tended to him?”

“There are assigned servants that routinely come in and out for housekeeping.”

There was a hint of shame in Megumi’s voice as he finished speaking. It was as though he felt responsible for the mishaps so far, and the way Shoko was boring her gaze into him likely didn’t help ease it.

(Y/N) took it upon herself, shimmying in between the two to intercept Shoko’s perusal. Behind her, Megumi’s previously tense shoulders lowered. 

“Shoko, as individuals with no medical knowledge, Megumi and I merely trusted the doctor and did as told.”

“His Grace was a soldier before he was the Grand Duke,” Shoko fired back, her breezy tone never changing. “There are things essential for survival that he was trained for, and one of those is to be aware. Always.”

The unprovoked attack on Megumi for some reason irritated (Y/N). Her frown deepened as she stood her ground. 

“I must ask that you refrain from personally attacking His Grace.”

But Shoko remained undeterred. In fact, her expression had hardly changed, though she did appear a little too entertained for (Y/N)’s taste. 

“No, I do apologize, Your Highness,” she replied, her head listed to one side, a faint smile creeping onto her face. “As for our friend here…”

“...I don’t believe there is much I’d be able to do.”

No one spoke afterwards. It was as though the air had become too thick to breathe.

The floor seemed to tilt from under (Y/N)’s feet.

That was far from what they needed to hear. Her heart might as well have dropped into the very ground below her. Her legs almost gave way, causing her to stumble back before Megumi caught her, one hand cradling her by the shoulder.

“No,” (Y/N) croaked, before she tried her voice again, this time firmer. “No, there has to be. We just haven’t found it yet.”

Shoko shrugged, motioning at Yuuji once again. “I’m afraid not. It’s not a matter of when he’ll wake up, but more so that he can’t or doesn’t want to.”

What?

The words echoed throughout (Y/N)’s mind.

As though able to read her thoughts, Megumi asked in her stead: “Would you care to explain?”

“He’s alive, if that eases anything. Since he is able to breathe on his own while unconscious, it means there was no significant damage sustained. Whatever your doctor had done to him, she’d managed to get to him before death did. But,” Shoko’s nose wrinkled in disapproval, “what is suspicious are the traces of magic within his body. I might even go as far as to suspect it may be a hex. Whatever trance he’s been put under, it has either convinced him as his new reality, or something is preventing him from breaking free.”

Shoko paused, and for the first time since she’d stepped into the room, (Y/N) finally caught a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes. 

“I’ve never encountered something such as this, so I’m unable to decipher or counter it as of now.”

(Y/N)’s head reeled. They’d considered it as a mere theoretical; they’d even tried to brush it off as impossible. But even in the hypothetical situations they’d drawn up, it was always agreed upon that only the ceiling was involved. Magic only left residues on what or whom it was cast upon. Only when the object breaks or the individual dies, do the effects fully disappear. In Yuuji’s case, if the ceiling had been spelled, it made no sense for there to be a transfer when it had broken before hitting him. 

Unless there was a second attempt from within the castle grounds.

(Y/N) didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but the ugly truth was staring her down in the face. She reached for Megumi’s hand with one icy, trembling hand and clutched on.

“Makoto. We have to ask her. Megumi, send someone for her right now.”

But could she be trusted? It didn’t matter. (Y/N) needed to hear it for herself and then it’ll be up to them to decide what to do. She didn’t doubt for even a second that the look in her eyes was frenzied, but Megumi’s green eyes remained calm. Concerned, but grounded. Against her cold clammy hands, his were warm, though they too felt unsteady.

Megumi angled his head down, his voice an attempt to soothe her as he spoke, “We don’t know if she was responsible for it.”

“We’ll know when we ask,” (Y/N) hissed, the waves of betrayal and fear and uncertainty hitting all at once. 

She was acting on a whim. She knew that. There was nothing that could be used against Makoto. The doctor’s job was to keep Yuuji alive, and she’d done just that. If it kept him alive, it didn’t matter the method. 

But this wasn’t right. To keep Yuuji in what was essentially a limbo was wrong. He was alive but just as well as dead. To be alive is to experience life as it was intended, not to be confined to this chamber, unconscious of the world. Whatever Makoto may have done to him, if she had anything to do with it, then she must have an inkling about how to undo it. 

Megumi was silent. His brows were knitted together, an expression that (Y/N) had yet to figure out what it meant. She could see the tension in his jaw, as though biting back words. Or perhaps frustration.

“...Kugisaki,” Megumi called out after finally breaking eye contact with (Y/N), “Find someone and send for the doctor. Have her wait in the office.”

(Y/N) didn’t watch, but she heard the rustles of a skirt and heels against the ground, followed by the groan of the chamber doors that didn’t close. Megumi wasn’t done with his orders.

“My lady, my lord,” Megumi continued, nodding at Shoko and Suguru respectively, “I ask that we save any lingering discussions for the morning. We’ve arranged rooms for you to stay in if you’d allow for my aide to guide you there.”

There was a brief silence as the two older nobles exchanged looks from across the room. (Y/N) thought for a moment they might protest, but in the end, they simply nodded in agreement. 

This time Megumi called out for Yuuta, who appeared within seconds.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

(Y/N) turned her head towards the door, surprised to see the count standing at attention. Had he been outside this whole time?

“Show our guests to their rooms.”

“Right away, Your Grace.”

Before Yuuta slipped away, he shot (Y/N) a reassuring smile and nod, to which she mustered a meager nod in return. He must’ve heard it all then.

The rest of them filed out of the room one by one, leaving only (Y/N) and Megumi behind with Yuuji. With a heavy sigh, Megumi released the hold he had on her and sat down on the edge of the bed. The sudden absence of support caused (Y/N) to sway. Her head felt foggy, as though she’d just woken from a nightmare. Though she supposed it wasn’t far from the truth. This was as close to a living nightmare as it would come. 

A hand shot out, catching her by the wrist and stabilizing her. It snapped her out of her daze and (Y/N) found herself staring into apologetic green eyes. In that moment, she remembered that Yuuji was his friend too. Someone he’d shared laughs and memories with. Someone that Megumi had depended on, just as she had. The news wasn’t hard on just her. 

It hadn’t been prominent before but now the burning sensation at the back of her throat was threatening tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Megumi murmured, his thumb tracing light circles on the back of her hand. 

“For what?” She replied, her words barely audible through her mumbling. Her eyes flickered to Yuuji’s sleeping frame but she was quick to avert them once her vision started to blur. How much longer must they face his unconscious body? How much time could be spared for them before it became permanent?

“I…I had sent word to your brother, and I’d expected for him to send someone, but he didn’t specify it would be the marquess and Lady Ieiri.”

Right. With all that’s happened, (Y/N) had almost forgotten. But she didn’t have it in her to be upset with him. Everything he’d done had been with her in mind, how could she even consider being mad at his efforts?

She did, however, have room in her heart to harbor an ever-growing suspicion towards Makoto. Perhaps Megumi trusted her to an extent, perhaps (Y/N) was too wary, but they needed to hear it from the doctor herself for (Y/N)’s peace of mind. 

The circling motion didn’t stop. If she hadn’t known him to be the type who did this unconsciously in his sleep, (Y/N) might’ve misunderstood it as a gesture borne out of guilt.

“I should thank you instead,” she said, casting Megumi a rueful smile. “For thinking on my behalf.”

Megumi cringed inwardly at this. He’d rather she throw a fit, or yell at him. At least then he’d have a way of knowing what she was feeling. It was unbearable to see her bottle away her anger and disguise it instead as understanding.

“It’ll be alright. We’ll make sure of it.”

Will we? (Y/N) wanted to ask, but chose to keep it to herself.

Megumi didn’t follow up his thoughts, choosing instead to wallow in quiet contemplation. Something dark had clouded his eyes.

The circling on the back of her hand finally came to a stop as Megumi retracted his hand. Had it been any other day, she might’ve been mildly hurt by the action. But right now, guilt gnawed at her heart, at her bones. There wasn’t an inch in her body that didn’t burn with self-reproach. Not because she could have prevented this from the beginning—to shove away a panic stricken Yuuji would’ve taken immense strength—but because she should’ve been more cautious from the beginning. It was the same mistake she’d made in the orphanage incident. Again. 

The two sat in a rare silence. Megumi had lowered his head, one finger tapping apprehensively on his knee. (Y/N)’s empty gaze fixated on Yuuji’s face, no longer fighting back tears. 

“What is it keeping you that you can’t come back to us?” (Y/N) whispered. It was a question for him, but also a question to herself. 

She was met with further silence. It was useless, wishful thinking. She hadn’t figured it out before, then she couldn’t possibly figure it out now. Not on her own at least. 

Footsteps, frantic and each punctuated with a click, resonated from the hallway. Megumi and (Y/N)’s head snapped up simultaneously. As the two met eyes, they shared an unspoken question.

“Fushiguro! (Y/N)!”

It was Nobara’s voice echoing down the corridor and was all the confirmation they needed. The couple sprung into action, hurrying to the door in unison. 

It didn’t sound like good news. 

They arrived at the doorway just as Nobara came to a halt, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath. (Y/N) rushed over, offering a hand that Nobara clutched onto with all her might. 

“The…the doctor…”

(Y/N) nodded, “Did you find her?”

Nobara shook her head as she straightened. Anger and frustration gleamed in her eyes. (Y/N)’s heart felt as if it was trapped in her throat.

“She’s gone.”

It dropped, a gut-lurching sensation. (Y/N) wanted to throw up.

“Gone?” Megumi repeated, as though the word sounded foreign to him. The blood had drained from his face. “What do you mean, ‘gone’, Kugisaki?”

The question went unanswered, but having no answer was one in itself. (Y/N) was right to feel anxious; there was no good news awaiting them after all.

“I have to see it,” (Y/N) finally spoke, disbelief still fresh in her eyes, “I won’t believe it until I see for myself.”

Hiking up the hem of her skirt in both hands, (Y/N) tore down the hall, retracing the steps from which Nobara had come. She and Megumi were hot on (Y/N)’s heels, and the trio thundered their way to the doctor’s office.

Without the usual decorum that she always conducted herself with, (Y/N) barged in through the wooden doors. As the adrenaline waned, her dread rose. 

There was nothing afoot. The room was pristine. So pristine that it was hard to believe it had ever been occupied. The walls were lined with shelves and bookcases, all of which were mostly void of objects, spare for some clean vials here and there. Pushed up against the only window in the chamber was a desk, where an intricate but empty setup of tubes, flasks, and mortars with pestles occupied the surface. Aside from a couch and low table set aside near one wall, the office had no other furniture. 

(Y/N) made a beeline to the desk, inspecting but not touching anything. There were drops of a light pink liquid sitting in one flask and, in one mortar, remnants of a fine, light blue powder.

That was all that was left that proved Makoto’s existence.

Without even realizing it, (Y/N) sank to the ground amidst shouts of alarm. Her legs had finally given out on her. It was real. Makoto really was gone, and she’d taken everything worth noting with her. 

Why run, if you weren’t afraid of facing the consequences? Why run, if you could prove your innocence?

Because she couldn’t. It only meant that in one way or another, Makoto was involved in this gimmick.

The gears in (Y/N)’s brain churned as she pondered her next steps. Send troops to scour the duchy? Makoto could have left only a couple of hours prior; with nightfall, she might still be within the territory. But for her to have gone right as Shoko and Suguru arrived, there must be an outside correspondent Makoto was working with. So then, should they prioritize uncovering the mole?

But where would they even begin to do so with no leads? 

“...(Y/N),” Megumi’s face appeared in her field of view. The poor man was squatting to match her eye level, worry etched in the scrunching of his brows. One hand was outstretched. “Can you stand?” 

She was able to give him a weak nod of her head. Nobara, too, offered a hand and with both of their help, (Y/N) stood up again on her own feet.

“We have to find her,” she stated, very flatly. 

Megumi occupied himself with smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. 

“We will,” he promised her firmly as he straightened. 

“But you are due for some rest,” Nobara interjected, “It’s been an eventful day. Leave the organizing and searching to Fushiguro.”

Rest? (Y/N) couldn’t imagine sleeping under these circumstances. There was a potential assassin on the run, whose motives they’ve still yet to uncover, and they want her to rest?

But she knew she wouldn’t win an argument against Nobara’s insistence. And as much as Nobara and Megumi got along, he was also not one to convince her otherwise.

And so (Y/N) nodded in resignation. 

“Little cygnet.”

From her desk, (Y/N) raised her head from the book before her. The history of magic, because the events from hours ago still bothered her. Her eyes had been rereading the same line over and over as the fatigue ate away at her, but she was fearful of what dreams awaited her if she were to close them. The night had dragged on in a painfully long episode but it was finally soon to be morning. Dawn was breaking, unveiling a pinkish glow that bled through the windows and blended into the amber candlelight.

In the office doorway stood Shoko and, (Y/N) noted after, Suguru in tow. 

“That would be me,” she mumbled as she lowered her head down again, not wanting to meet their eyes. Like she’d predicted, (Y/N) hadn’t been able to fall asleep. It wasn’t just her either. Megumi hadn’t even come back to their chamber since he said goodnight to her. Without him by her side, it only proved harder to rest her racing mind, so she’d given up and instead chose to fill her time productively. Even if it was all for naught.

“We’ve heard about the missing doctor,” Suguru said as the two of them surrounded her from both sides. He leaned against the edge of her desk while Shoko elected to sit on it. 

Shoko snorted before (Y/N) could even react. 

“You mean she fled. With her tail tucked between her legs.”

“Yes, and that makes her a missing person, Shoko.”

Thud. 

The two flinched at the sound of (Y/N) closing her hefty book. She was familiar with the direction that this was going, and she was by no means in the mood to listen to them bicker. Her patience was running thin, and for someone far from a saint, (Y/N) was scared that she didn’t even know what she’d do when the last straw finally arrived. 

“His Grace has gathered a search party, and they’ve already set out,” she told them, setting the book down on the desk, “but I gather that’s not what you’re here to speak to me about.”

(Y/N), finally having found the courage, directed her gaze upwards at Suguru towering over her.

His expression took her by surprise.

She’d expected disappointment, or perhaps mild irritation from being spoken to so crassly. But rather than regard her with disgruntlement, Suguru appeared almost…pleased. Her expression must’ve displayed the incredulity she felt because he chuckled. 

“You’ve grown, Your Highness,” Suguru remarked, as though that was enough explanation.

It wasn’t. (Y/N) swiveled her head to blink at Shoko, trying to convey her perplexion that Suguru might’ve lost his marbles. But Shoko merely nodded in agreement with him, leaving (Y/N) to think that the lack of sleep had finally caught up to her.

“Are you two…jesting?”

Another bout of laughter, this time from both of them.

“No, not at all,” Suguru managed. “I meant that you’ve matured. Being the Grand Duchess has given you an edge.”

(Y/N)’s brows wrinkled in further confusion. “Is that so?”

“Do you not think so?” Shoko quipped, her head tilted in question, a teasing but adoring smile on her lips.

(Y/N)’s gaze shifted from one face to the other, before settling on the candle sitting opposite of her. As she stared into the flame, she considered what they were asking her. It was startlingly for her to finally realize what had elicited his response: she would’ve never dared to speak to anyone that way when living in the palace. For a princess who had lived life as invisibly as possible, being able to speak to outsiders would’ve been a rare occurrence. She would’ve been told to always be cordial, prim, and proper to a fault. To be curt and offhand like she’d just been with Suguru was uncharacteristic of the old her. 

She allowed herself a small smile. “I suppose it has.”

Again, a large hand settled on the top of her head, gently ruffling her hair. Suguru’s touch was reminiscent of Satoru’s and for a moment, (Y/N)’s mind wandered to her brother miles away. 

“Satoru would be proud.”

She flinched. Not for the first time, she wondered if Suguru could read minds. Her smile slipped, only by a little.

“Do you think so?”

“Of course,” the two responded unanimously before Suguru added with a sigh: “Every chance he gets, he’s brought you up in conversation. Rumor has it that the Zenin's are tired of hearing your name despite your absence.”

The thought of Satoru singing her praises to the traditional and stone-faced geezers, who would’ve liked nothing more than to forget her and the grand duchy’s existence altogether, made (Y/N) scoff with amusement. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t news from the Zenin's.”

“No, but that’s what makes it all the more satisfying.”

Whether it was true or simply a story to brighten her mood, a part of her did feel lighter. It was a small gesture from Suguru and Shoko but unbeknownst to them, the little reassurance they’d provided her with was enough to clear (Y/N)’s mind.

The soft crinkling sound of parchment drew her attention to an envelope that Suguru was withdrawing from his pocket. Out of curiosity, (Y/N) raised one brow as she watched Suguru exchange looks with Shoko. 

“This,” he began, sliding the envelope towards her across the desk, “is for you. From Satoru.”

(Y/N) peered at the envelope. This must be why they’ve come to her in the first place.

“A letter?”

Suguru nodded. “As far as we’re concerned, yes.” 

“...Thank you,” (Y/N) said, her tone quiet as she picked up the parchment. The messy scrawl of Satoru’s handwriting spelling out (Y/N)’s name was the only decoration, written in the top left corner of one side. She could feel that lump in the back of her throat again. Though her first instinct was to swallow it, (Y/N) found it harder to keep it down this time. She blamed it on the exhaustion.

Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the envelope. As she unfolded the paper within it, the length of the letter almost made her believe she was being berated:

(Y/N),

To begin, I would never accuse you of forgetting my birthday. You’ve always been one to hold grudges, after all. For you to shun me after I married you off without an explanation would’ve been fair. Imagine how overjoyed I was to see that you’ve spared me the cold shoulder! Truly enough to reduce this old man to tears.

Your concerns are misplaced. Your gift was dealt with accordingly, but I must protest that Megumi could’ve given me a little more thought. And as I’m writing this, I hope that the two of you are learning to get along. I know that he can be distant, but he’s an inherently kind person. Try to place more trust in him.

Hearing of your current developments, I won’t say I’m proud of you; you already know this as the truth. We have no need for a second ego in this palace, though I suppose since you aren’t here right now, that makes only one. But, I will say that you are my pride. That will not change. The head atop your shoulders is a competent one after all. 

The Itadori's are well. Sir Jin and Lady Kaori send their heartfelt regards and are pleased to hear the duchy has received the both of you warmly. Perhaps it’s worth noting that Sir Jin is planning his retirement very soon.

One month is too short for me to miss you dearly, but do try to convince Megumi to attend the New Year’s banquet. I miss seeing his sour face around. And yours as well.

Your dearest brother.

This must’ve been written before Satoru had heard of the incident, (Y/N) realized. A second, smaller piece of parchment was hidden behind the first. This one was more brief, with less brotherly taunts and fresher ink:

Megumi has relayed to me everything that’s happened. The palace is aware that your safety may be compromised. Should you decide that the duchy no longer feels safe, return home immediately. I’ve sent Shoko with Suguru this time in hopes that she’d be of help to Yuuji. They’ve been asked to stay for a week’s time to offer assistance. Don’t hesitate should you need anything else.

Please be safe.

And that was it. They were small, but in the details, (Y/N) found comfort. 

“Thank you,” she repeated again with a quivering voice, her hair hiding her face as she lowered her head. A tear, warm and stinging, dripped onto the letter, smudging the ink of Satoru’s sign-off. 

Neither Shoko or Suguru commented on it. Although, they weren’t given the chance to: almost as quickly as it had happened, (Y/N) was already wiping her eyes dry. She straightened in her seat as she gently refolded the letters and returned it to how it had arrived.

“Shoko,” (Y/N) turned to the doctor, whose expression had softened compared to when she’d first arrived that night, “do you think it is possible to devise something that would bring Yuuji back?”

Something rang in the corner of her mind, before she hurriedly added: “And also replicate an elixir for a mana-depleting illness?”

Without Makoto around, Tsumiki would have no access to her medicine. (Y/N) couldn’t let her suffer as well; if Shoko was able to recreate the recipe, (Y/N) was more than willing to provide it herself.

Shoko mulled over (Y/N)’s question for a minute or two, before sighing in defeat. She was smiling, however.

“Provided that I have the proper equipment and resources, I will try my best.”

That was all (Y/N) needed to hear.

“I’ll have that arranged for you. Suguru,” she rose from her seat, tucking the letter away into her bodice, “I’d like to ask for your insight into the investigation, if you’d be willing to.”

Evidently relieved, he stood from leaning against the desk and stretched his arms towards the ceiling. “Of course I would, Your Highness. Though I should advise you to first get some rest.”

“I’ll be alright.” She wasn’t lying. In an odd occurrence, the lack of sleep seemed to have supplied her with a random boost of energy. 

(Y/N) leaned over her desk to snuff out the candle. The room no longer needed the measly block of wax. Outside, morning had arrived and the rays of sunlight streaked like daggers into the room. She couldn’t afford wasting any more time moping around. 

Chapter Text

Silence and snow alike blanketed the barren expanse of trees that constituted the northern borders of the Grand Duchy. They stood tall, a skeleton of the lush forest that they once were, their bare limbs swaying at the occasional gusts of wind. The distant murmurs of soldiers and the quiet clinking of sword holsters against the gentle crunching of boots on the snowy ground echoed like ripples on the surface of a lake, disturbing the tranquility of the forest. 

Megumi was frowning down at his feet. 

A set of footprints was still fresh in the snow. The indent it made was shallow in depth, narrow in width. Small, neatly lined ridges were imprinted into what would’ve been the soles of the shoes. The prints led forward, away from the center of the duchy.

“Megumi.”

He straightened with little urgency to turn around, his downturned lips as grim as ever. The number of people who referred to him by his given name was small, and much less in their current settings. 

“Anything worth noting?” The duke asked, finally tearing his gaze away from the tracks before him. 

Standing about two paces away was Maki, one hand on the hilt of her sword as the other remained tucked behind her cape. She was matching frowns with Megumi, and he watched with a lilt of hope as she nodded curtly. 

“Two sets of prints, leading west. No signs of struggle, though my officers are working to find where they end.” She paused, mulling over the details. “It’s safe to assume they were traveling in pairs.”

Maki paused, her eyes drifting to the footprints Megumi had been analyzing. She gestured to it with a point of her chin. 

“What do you have there?”

“Only one set of ridged prints, likely female if we were to judge from the size.”

He stopped to muse.

“...What type of shoes would the doctor typically wear?”

The captain of the guards scoffed, as though amused by his question.

“I’ll be sure to ask her for you if we ever find her.”

Megumi was in no mood for jokes, however, so he could only breathe a soft sigh in defeat. With a tilt of his head, he motioned for Maki to come closer. 

“Have a look. Maybe there are some similarities.”

As the two swapped positions, Megumi found himself taking a moment to survey the land. The forest border was situated at the peak of a hill, which was simultaneously the foot of enormous mountain peaks. From where they stood, the morning sun cut an impressive figure across the jagged skyline. Megumi could make out the town and the Fushiguro estate below them, though the townspeople were no bigger than animated dots. They were scattered throughout, peacefully going about their morning. Snow glistened on the roofs of homes and businesses as thin curls of smoke drifted from chimneys. What he assumed were children were darting about in the town square, pelting each other with flying snowballs.

No one was aware of the potential assassin wandering in their midst. Megumi still couldn’t decide if he’d made the right decision by not alerting his people. The people were only just beginning to live peacefully, and the last thing he wanted was to disturb that peace. He could only pray that everything was resolved before it became necessary to make it public. 

His gaze lingered, unsurprisingly, on the castle. It had been so painfully hard to leave (Y/N)’s side, especially knowing she needed company more than ever. But it hurt more to know that there were things that he should’ve been doing from the beginning, and that was what drove him into action. Responsibility was a double-edged sword that held Megumi by the neck: there was no one to blame except the perpetrator, and yet, an incessant nagging plagued Megumi’s mind. Tracing back all these events only led him to the conclusion that had he not made (Y/N)’s presence in the duchy known, maybe the misfortunes wouldn’t have unfolded in the way they did. 

Unnecessarily dark thoughts followed, enough that he was ashamed to have even allowed them to form. 

He’d wanted (Y/N) to experience a freedom that she never had throughout her childhood. It was he who wanted her to live without restraints, not to be bound by the title of Grand Duchess. It was also he who wanted Yuuji to remain by her side so that both of them could maintain a semblance of their past. And, selfishly, at the end of the day, Megumi simply wanted her to smile more often. There was no need to take more than what he already had from them. Besides, considering the intricacy of this scheme, he had a suspicion that whoever was behind it would’ve found another way to achieve their goal.

A smack on the back of his head jolted Megumi back from the depths of his mind. On reflex, his shoulders tensed. One hand came up to gently check the stinging injury. Scowling, the duke swiveled to face a noticeably peeved Maki. 

“Are you aware that there are other ways to get my attention?”

“I’ve tried, and the next would’ve been to draw my sword.” Her crinkled brows suggested that she wasn’t kidding. “These prints are nearly identical to one of the pairs we found.”

For a moment, Megumi didn’t speak.

“So they’re the doctor’s,” he deadpanned. 

“Must you jump to conclusions like that?” Maki scolded him, to which Megumi turned the other cheek.

He knew she was itching to hit him again, and braced himself, though it never landed.

“The people are generally cautious about entering the forest during this time of the year, much less on a night that was snowing.” He explained, his hand anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no reason for anyone to be wandering so close to the borders if they value their lives.”

“...Unless they knew their life was in more danger here,” Maki finished for him.

“You make a fair point,” she sighed, readjusting her glasses with one hand. “For now, we’ll have to settle for knowing that Makoto had an accomplice, if not more.”

Megumi nodded in agreement and didn’t offer any additional observations. 

“But then,” Maki was taking her time choosing her words this time, shooting Megumi a cautious glance, “that begs their motives. Why target the princess’s knight, and not the princess herself?”

Megumi clenched his jaw. It was a question that he had pondered for hours himself. There were only two conclusions he settled on, once he’d finished denying them. 

Either their quarry had been with (Y/N) from the very beginning, tying into the orphanage incident, or they adjusted their objectives to accommodate Yuuji’s existence since then. 

The former, because they were banking on the political marriage and what should’ve inherently been a relationship with no ties between (Y/N) and Megumi. It insinuated that they were expecting to finish their job without retaliation. The latter, because they realized Yuuji proved to be a hindrance in their plan, and ridding him would leave her defenseless.

Whichever it may be, the very notion of it boiled Megumi’s blood. It didn’t matter to him what the reasoning was; all he cared about was making them pay for it. 

He didn’t get a chance to answer Maki as a frantic yell resonated through the forest. 

“Captain! Your Grace!”

The two immediately turned towards the source. A soldier was heading towards them from the west, running at a speed unfit for the snowy terrain. But something was wrong. He looked much too pale, as though he’d seen a ghost. And these were troops that Megumi had led to war.

His stomach curdled. More bad news, it would appear. 

“Have you found something?” Maki asked, already moving forward to meet the man halfway. Megumi followed. 

“We think we’ve found a body,” was what came tumbling from the soldier’s mouth.

Maki narrowed her eyes. She adjusted the hold she had on the hilt of her sword. “You think?”

As though knowing he was about to be lectured, the soldier stiffened. “Captain, it looks like a body but…it…I believe it would be better for the two of you to take a look yourselves.”

Megumi and Maki shared a look. A mutual agreement was reached in the brief silence, and Megumi motioned for the soldier to lead the way. 

At first, when they arrived at the site, Megumi couldn’t even distinguish where the supposed body was. They were being led towards a lump in the snow, and once Megumi laid eyes on the corpse, nausea swept over him. 

The corpse wore a face that was unmistakably the benevolent doctor’s. But at the same time, she no longer appeared to be a person. Was this a cruel joke?

Makoto was lying face up. But she was gray, the color of cobblestone. Spiderweb-like cracks spanned her limbs and marred her face. Blood that didn’t quite get to escape was frozen into the snow beneath her in a maroon sheet and staining the fabric of her clothes. Her lips were parted and curled, like she’d spent the last moments of her life protesting in anguish. Most hauntingly, her eyes were open and glazed over with the same gray sheen. They were empty, like the eyes of a statue.

“Stars above…” Maki muttered in disbelief, crouching to prod at the doctor’s clenched fists tentatively. A finger crackled, and Maki quickly pulled away when it disconnected with a cloud of dust. Her expression had morphed into one of horror; the idea of condemning an individual to such an abominable death was abhorrent. 

No blood, no bones, no flesh. Simply disintegrated like ashes in a fireplace. It was as though Makoto had never been alive in the first place. 

Megumi turned away, unable to shake off the impending dread. Something was unnerving about the way Makoto’s dead gaze remained trained on the sky. He found himself unwilling to meet it again.

The soldier from before hastily began to explain. “This is where the trail of footprints ended, Your Grace. Whoever was responsible was able to disappear without leaving more prints.”

He then raised his hand, gesturing for one of his subordinates to come forward. The younger soldier presented Megumi with a satchel, the contents clinking together as he held them up for Megumi to study.

Books. Herbs. Glass vials. It goes without saying that it belonged to the doctor. The duke’s eyes flashed in recognition at the flask holding a pink liquid. Could it be the same recipe they’d found in Makoto’s office?

He smothered the inkling of hope before it could grow. Until they had the contents analyzed, he couldn’t allow himself to believe in a lucky strike. 

“...Have someone bring her back to the castle and ask that Dr. Ieiri attend to her.” His voice was stern. “That bag, as well. Hand it over to her. Make an effort to be careful. Our search ends here, prepare for return.”

The sounds of his troops’ salutes were barely audible above the hammering of Megumi’s heartbeat. This complicated things. No longer was this a case of simple assassination. The king needed to be alerted. 

These were signs of dark magic, something that should’ve been long since forbidden. Whatever was being plotted, there could only be more victims waiting to be claimed. 

(Y/N) felt as though she’d become one with the snow. Her fingers were tingling with a chill that managed to seep through her gloves. Even though Nobara had thrown a heavy, fur-lined cloak on her before their departure, it left (Y/N)’s face unprotected. The winter air eagerly bit at her cheeks, leaving behind a rosy tint. 

She had expected it to be warmer in the morning, but somehow, the winter in town felt colder than it had last night in the garden. Was it an effect of Tsumiki’s magic? (Y/N) made a mental note to ask her at a different time. Maybe at a time when both her and Yuuji's lives weren’t on the line. 

Their horses came to a halt at the same stable they always frequented. As per usual, Nobara was the one handling all matters with the stablehand. Before (Y/N) could haul herself off her steed, a hand had extended itself to her. But what normally was Yuuji’s job didn’t trace back to that familiar sunny face. Instead, the hand she’d tentatively grabbed a hold of belonged to Inumaki Toge, the highest–ranking officer in Megumi’s troops, second only to Maki.

And who had been serving temporarily as her guard, at least until Yuuji was able to again. 

“Thank you,” she told Toge after he’d set her safely on the ground, to which she was met with an affirmative nod.

Up until recently, (Y/N) had believed Toge to be an introverted individual. After all, in the occasional chances they’ve crossed paths, he never made conversation. Merely nodded in acknowledgment or smiled out of friendliness. It wasn’t until Yuuta explained to her that (Y/N) finally learned that Toge was unable to speak. 

Toge suffered damage to his throat during the northern expeditions, Yuuta had clarified to her once with a wistful smile. We were fortunate enough to get him to a doctor, but not before the injuries could leave long-term side effects. 

Though to say he’d been advised against it would be more appropriate.

It evoked a sense of guilt in her: Toge, along with the thousands of soldiers who served under Megumi, had been forced into a war by royal decree. Though the noble houses that headed the decree had convinced Satoru it was the lesser of two evils, (Y/N) couldn’t ignore the faintly hidden wariness they held towards her. Save for Toge and Maki, none of the other soldiers had attempted to be amicable. 

And, in all fairness, she felt it was warranted. After all, with another word from her brother, they’d all be throwing their lives back on the line. Not for the greater good. For the aristocracy. 

More sacrificial pawns in the world of politics. She was beginning to understand what Yuuji had felt so torn over. 

“How quaint,” Suguru’s voice drew her attention. (Y/N) shot him a curious glance, though it went unnoticed by the marquess; his eyes were intently studying the streets. “As much as he expresses otherwise, His Grace is rather capable.”

Though his words gave the impression of admiration, (Y/N) couldn’t help but interpret what she heard as a jab at Megumi. 

Beside her, Toge had grown noticeably tense, further validating her instinct. But he didn’t express his emotions outwardly, and it left (Y/N) with a realization: she’d never learned of Suguru’s stance on Megumi. Nor had she ever heard of his opinion on the nature of their political union, or even Megumi’s background. Somehow, in her mind, she’d equated Suguru as Satoru—she’d assumed that Suguru would’ve shared the same inclination for Megumi that Satoru had. Yet, nothing suggested that.

“He’s far more than just capable. I thought this was well known.”

It was her only remark, one that was softly spoken but unwavering. As though her words were the only truth she believed in. She didn’t pause to check Suguru’s reaction, so she would miss the amused expression he wore behind her back.

Toge, however, shot her a look that spoke of approval. That she did not miss, though it made her uneasy that he took her comment as a rebuke. The last thing (Y/N) needed was a rift between the only two parties she trusted. 

Nobara was the first to address the shift in atmosphere once she’d returned, lips curled in mild distaste. 

“What happened here?”

(Y/N) shook her head, linking arms with Nobara before she could get another word in. “Pay them no heed. Let’s get going.”

Nobara frowned, not at all convinced. But she didn’t pry any further. Instead, with a huff, she tugged the hood of (Y/N)’s cloak up and over her head, much to (Y/N)’s surprise.

“At least try to hide yourself if you insist on being out here after all that’s happened,” Nobara grumbled, her eyes scanning their surroundings skeptically. 

While her words may be blunt, they somehow managed to turn the corners of (Y/N)’s lips upwards. Though her headstrong personality might’ve convinced others that she held no care, (Y/N) knew Nobara was feeling the most torn out of all of them. It was her job to attend to (Y/N), but at the same time, Nobara’s loyalty remained to the duchy: it was a matter of (Y/N)’s wishes against Megumi’s. One might argue that the former applied more often than the latter. 

Ever the one to be compliant, (Y/N) made sure to tuck all of her hair into her cloak as she replied, in lighthearted sarcasm: “Is that better, my lady?”

The look she received from Nobara was narrow and in disbelief. 

“Sometimes, I forget just how similar you and Itadori can be.”

The two girls shared a chuckle, one that would quickly descend into a wistful silence as his name hung in the air. Nobara’s grip on (Y/N)’s arm tightened, though not painfully. And they remained like that the rest of their walk, as though if the ground were to cave suddenly below them, they’d at least have each other to hold onto. 

The four of them were headed away from the center of town, where all the morning hubbub was taking place. The alley they’d entered was quieter, hushed–as though they were afraid to disturb its residents. The flow of passersby could be counted on both hands, and many kept to themselves. Above them, wooden signs swayed from awning posts that squeaked ominously. The further they went, the stronger a bitter scent permeated the air. 

The entire row appeared long, but was really comprised of only two buildings. Spanning nearly half the street was the town’s infirmary with its bleak paint job and brown shingled roof. Branching off of it was the offender responsible for the pungently sharp smell.

(Y/N) reached for the handle of the wooden door, the plaque on its face too worn to make out the words, and pushed. It swung inwards with a groan, like the hinges themselves were protesting aloud. A chime, hanging from a nail at the top corner of the door, announced their arrival with a cheerful jingle. 

It was oddly cozy inside. While the exterior was imposing with its crackled paint and lack of decoration, the inside was akin to a library with its floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Some were occupied by books, a few by equipment, and the remaining stocked to the brim with various plants and materials. As (Y/N) passed by them while approaching the front counter, her eyes briefly skimmed the labels of what was level with her. 

Chamomile. Sage. Rhubarb. These were all very normal and common ingredients that even (Y/N) had a general idea of what they were used for. She could only pray that the apothecary had kept the rare materials somewhere safer. 

An elderly man, hunched and assisted by a cane, emerged from a curtained room behind the counter. His sudden appearance caused (Y/N) to jump; how had none of them heard him? The cane hadn’t seemed to make a sound until he’d stepped up to the counter. There was another spark of surprise when (Y/N) met the man’s gaze.

His eyes were pure white. No pupils, no colored irises. They were trained on her. Intently.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. Until the man finally rasped, unhappily: “Now, what business would royalty have in my humble shop?”

It felt like a slap across the face. The four of them traded looks: out of all of them, only Toge seemed the least bothered by the turnout. Was he already aware of the apothecary’s condition? Or was he simply desensitized to it? Opposite him, Suguru was wearing a displeased frown, the suspicion in his eyes thinly veiled. The old man’s offensive tone most definitely did not sit well with the marquess.

There was no use prolonging the suspense. It didn’t matter how the apothecary was able to tell; their identities were already known. And so (Y/N) motioned for Nobara to hand over what they were there for.

The glass jar was cold as it slid into her hands, and (Y/N) shuddered to think what the blue powder within it might do to her if it were to crack. 

“I apologize for not sending word beforehand,” She began, her tone soft but determined, “but we were wondering if you’d be able to identify this substance.”

She slid the jar across the wooden counter, setting it right next to the elderly man’s wrinkled hands. He didn’t pick it up, however.

“And?” He scowled. “Then?”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed. There was a certain hostility to the apothecary that stemmed from the fact that she was of royal descent. Though she’d known about the lingering disapproval of the Gojo dynasty, it was the first instance she’d experienced in the duchy. But the attitude was not what worried her; her only concern was if it would hinder their process. 

“I’d also like to ask that if you’re able to identify it, if there is anyone who has recently purchased these ingredients from you.”

She watched as the old man remained still, his unblinking eyes boring into her. It unnerved her. That much was true. Both his personality and actions. But if there was still hope, she’d hold out until she got the answers she needed.

The apothecary exhaled a huff of displeasure through his nose.

“Impertinent brat. Fine, let’s see what you’ve brought.”

(Y/N) let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. If it had been anyone else, she might’ve spoken against the treatment. But they needed his help. Her pride wasn’t a matter that could outweigh the stakes at hand. 

She had half a thought to open the jar for the elderly senior, but was quick to withdraw her hands as she watched him do so without any problems, bringing the jar up to his nose. Alarms sounded in her mind. 

Is this right? What if the powder was harmful through inhalation? (Y/N)’s concerns didn’t get a chance to make an appearance, however. The man was already speaking.

“A curious combination,” he mused, peering at the powder with the first change in expression since they’d stepped foot into the shop, “gomishi and sansumi.”

That plant name again. (Y/N) was starting to believe that whatever was happening could not escape any relation to sansumi.

The apothecary paced the jar back on the counter, fumbling under the counter as he continued to give a gruff explanation:

“Gomishi is commonly administered to those with severe coughing fits. I don’t keep a record of my customers for that reason.”

The hope that had just started to bloom began to wilt. 

“Perhaps you’d like to start doing so,” Nobara muttered under her breath, earning herself a warning nudge from (Y/N). 

“Sansumi,” the old man drawled, completely ignoring the jab, “I receive a supply regularly every month. They only grow past the mountains, so I have to wait for merchants in the neighboring kingdom to bring them around.”

He finally withdrew his hands from under the counter and produced a leather-clad booklet. From where (Y/N) stood, she could see there were words and numbers written cleanly on the pages. Impressed was an understatement. 

“It was useless within the kingdom up until recently. Too many were scared of its supposed toxicity, but those that were crazy enough have started incorporating it into various potions and whatnots.”

He traced his finger down the pages before singling out a string of words in particular.

“Well, Your Highness,” he spat her title like it was repulsive, “the last that I’ve sold of sansumi was addressed to the Grand Duke’s estate. How intriguing.”

The question eating at her, (Y/N) suddenly found herself unwilling to ask. But she needed to know. She had to.

“What is it meant for?” She managed, trying to swallow the heavy uneasiness in her chest.

The old man closed his book, stashing it back in its hiding spot. 

“Our application of sansumi stops at numbing ointments. But supposedly, in the north, they use it in mana regulators for mages with an overflow.”

A disturbing realization seemed to fall on the group unanimously.

A doctor without a clear background. A plant that could only be harvested from beyond the borders.

What if Makoto wasn’t even a citizen? It would drag even more parties into the chaos. It even threatened war if they were to unjustly accuse the neighboring kingdom. 

(Y/N)’s stomach was starting to reject her. “Then…if it’s used for a prolonged time in mages with normal reserves…?”

“Their body would be convinced that their reserves are considered too high. I suppose there is a chance that it may rid them of mana completely, though that would mean death for a mage.”

Death. Until they died. (Y/N) really was going to be sick.

If there were to be a silver lining, she could at least be sure that the powder was the one Makoto used in Tsumiki’s elixir.

For two years. For two whole years, Tsumiki had been drinking it as a form of relief. She’d believed it to be an antidote, not realizing that it was only a catalyst that made it harder on her. It was despicable. 

Suguru spoke for the first time since they’d set foot in the shop.

“Your Highness, I feel that this is a conversation better continued with His Grace.”

She nodded her head, trying to make sense of the fragments of the truth they’d gathered so far. But Suguru was right. They needed to leave. Megumi and Shoko needed to be informed.

“Thank you for your time,” (Y/N) murmured to the apothecary, setting a large gold coin on the counter in exchange for the jar back. “This is for your help.”

There was no response, though he did swipe the coin.

“Let’s be on our way,” (Y/N) said as she motioned towards the door. It was getting hard to distinguish if the bitterness she was tasting in her mouth was from the room or her bile. The rest of the group followed without complaint, all equally gloomy, though not all for the same reasons. 

But by the time they actually returned to the castle, it was approaching late afternoon. Though Nobara and Suguru had been keen on returning as soon as they’d stepped out of the apothecary’s, (Y/N) had ended up dropping by the orphanage for a brief visit. She needed something to ground herself. Then she’d convinced them to stop for lunch only to try her luck at even catching a glimpse of Makoto, in case she was slipping in with the crowd.

If she had known what was waiting for her, she would’ve spared everyone from the extra hours accompanying her.

Before (Y/N)’s feet had even touched castle grounds, Yuuta had intercepted her. They’d left Suguru and Nobara behind in the foyer. In a flurry of rushed explanations, he’d herded her to Makoto’s former office, which was now Shoko’s for the duration she was staying. (Y/N) caught little bits and pieces: Makoto’s body, the possibility of an accomplice, and a theoretical location they could’ve been headed. As they neared the doors, Yuuta’s rambling finally came to a sputtering halt.

“It’s a truly disturbing sight, Your Highness. I would rather you be spared from having to witness it, but His Grace…”

In the short time she’s known Yuuta, never before had he worn an expression as grim as he was now. Rather, it was more appropriate to say the despondency was starting to wear him down. She tried for the most reassuring grin she could offer at the moment.

“He’s asking for me because he knows I’d want to be there. Please don’t be concerned on my behalf.”

But Yuuta looked far from assuaged as he sighed. She could’ve sworn the bags under his eyes were only getting darker by the day, but she felt that it wasn’t something she should be commenting on. 

“I wish I could be less concerned, Your Highness.” He ushered her through the door, but didn’t follow. “It comes with the occupation, I fear.”

Megumi and Shoko were huddled over a makeshift table in the middle of the chamber. The unease in the room was practically tangible, and their arrival broke a silence that had previously suffocated the room. Both of them peered up from whatever was holding their interest, Shoko with curiosity and Megumi with vexation. He was the first to step forward, still dressed in his uniform shirt and trousers. Windblown hair, windburned cheeks. Her heart tightened at how exhausted he looked. 

The wrinkles in his brows ironed themselves out as he laid eyes on (Y/N). Relief seemed to flood his entire body. In two strides, he’d rushed over, his gaze sweeping over her.

“Did anything happen while you were out?” Megumi asked, his hands hovering in the air before him but never making actual contact.

(Y/N) nodded, only to quickly shake her head. Before Megumi could misunderstand her, she was already pulling out the glass jar from earlier.

“I asked the town apothecary for identification and records. He said this powder had traces of goshimi and sansumi, and that the last batch he’d sold was addressed to the castle.”

She paused, preparing herself for what was about to come next. But he needed to know. He deserved to know.

“Megumi, sansumi originated from beyond the borders. It’s meant for regulating mana overflow, and is harmful otherwise. It…it isn’t meant to be a cure for Tsumiki. Her body’s draining itself of mana under its influence.”

It was like watching a tree being split in half. He’d frozen in place, eyes wide and lips parted. Her heart ached as she watched him mentally piece the puzzle together, as his world crumbled within him once he’d realized what it implied.

“I trusted her,” Megumi muttered, staring down at his hands as though they were responsible for the pain being dealt to his sister.

(Y/N) couldn’t avert her gaze, merely stared at the top of his head. She didn’t know how to reassure him, didn’t know how to teach him to forget the guilt of indirectly hurting a sibling.

“You didn’t know,” was the only comfort (Y/N) could offer. “It’s not your fault.”

Though he nodded in response, Megumi wouldn’t meet her eyes again. 

The jar was plucked from (Y/N)’s hand by slender fingers, and she turned her head to find Shoko scrutinizing the powder with piqued intrigue. 

“Fret not, Your Grace. There’s still a way around this.” Shoko shot (Y/N) a small smile as she pocketed the jar into her coat. “I’ll be taking this, little cygnet. There’s someone else you might want to take a look at.”

Her head was inclined towards the table. (Y/N)’s gaze followed, and then her feet. Until she brought herself to the body being dissected. 

The horror didn’t hit her all at once. It crept its way into her mind and then under her skin, before freezing over her heart.

The gray, clay-like pallor. The cracks, the missing finger, the open-eyed stare. Makoto’s chest was open. Not in a way that was done surgically, but in a way that a sculptor might take their chisel to a defective work. It caved inwards, opening her torso into a gaping cavity. (Y/N) realized with a choke that she could see the tabletop through Makoto. Remnants of a destroyed spine hung from her neck down.

But the scariest thing was not what she could see; it was what was missing. There were no organs. No innards. She was empty inside except for the vertebrae. 

“What did you do to her?” (Y/N) finally managed, meeting Shoko’s gaze with dismay. This was too much; she didn’t want to believe that Shoko could’ve done this. Even in death, it was too cruel.

The brunette waved a finger in denial. “She was brought here like that. According to His Grace, she’d been lying in blood when they found her. They supposedly found her in the mountains.”

(Y/N) spared Makoto one more look, before tugging the white sheet that covered her lower extremities over her upper body. She didn’t know if it was pity she felt for the dead doctor; it was a different, more intricate emotion that she had no name for. 

“Your Highness,” Shoko’s tone had turned strict. “Do you know what this implies?”

She nodded slowly, forcing herself to breathe. All those nights spent poring over books about ancient magic and nonsense had chosen to rear its head at an ugly time. Forbidden magic, and possibly forbidden alchemy.

“A warning. The next person lying here could be one of ours.”

From where he stood, Megumi finally chimed in, quietly: “She’s not the mastermind.”

(Y/N) agreed with a nod of her head again. Given how she died, Makoto couldn’t be the one orchestrating the schemes. At best, she was the accomplice, the dog meant to carry out orders. It was reasonable to think that since her cover had been compromised, she’d been disposed of. Whoever was puppeteering this vile show might run a larger network than they were aware of. 

Shoko was rummaging through her pocket. “Right, and then there was this.”

In her hand, she was holding the vial with that mysterious pink liquid in it. (Y/N) squinted in question.

“And that is…?”

“The solution to your knight’s unfortunate predicament,” Shoko explained. “Hopefully. I’ll have the contents analyzed by tomorrow, and we will proceed from there.”

(Y/N) could feel her shoulders dropping, the tension finally releasing its grip on her. “Thank you, Shoko.”

At least, their efforts were not for naught. They’d managed to acquire the important things. The logistics of it could be discussed at a different time, when everyone was present. As of now, she just prayed that Yuuji and Tsumiki would have a proper recovery.

For a moment, Shoko’s eyes darted from (Y/N) to Megumi, before shaking her head.

“Perhaps the two of you could use some sleep. I’ve seen patients with eyes more alive than both of you combined.”

It hit (Y/N) a little harder than expected. She sheepishly fiddled with her fingers, feeling as though she’d just been scolded like a child. Across the room, Megumi looked equally embarrassed, trying to flatten his hair as he avoided eye contact.

Shoko began shooing the two of them out of the chamber, and the couple reluctantly allowed themselves to be removed. The doors thudded shut loudly behind them with no remorse. (Y/N) sighed; Shoko was being serious. 

To say she wasn’t tired would be a lie. After all, it would soon be an entire day since the two of them last slept. But the image of Makoto’s woeful body was ingrained behind her eyelids. Even when she blinked, it refused to go away. She recognized this pattern; sleep would be impossible. 

“You still see it,” Megumi said. It wasn’t a question, but an observation instead. 

She glanced at him. He looked less distraught now, but there was no hiding the pain in his eyes. Something told her this pain wasn’t from Tsumiki’s condition. 

“Do you not?” (Y/N) asked softly, redirecting her gaze to the carpeted floor. Between Suguru and Shoko’s arrival and the events that followed, she’d almost forgotten about the moment they’d shared in the garden. But now they were alone again, and the unaddressed tension between them didn’t go unnoticed. 

Was it too late to shut these feelings away for now? (Y/N) didn’t know what to make of them, didn’t like the way she couldn’t decide what her heart was seeking and what her mind wanted. There was so much happening; it felt inappropriate to be dwelling in romance right now. 

“I…” His voice wavered. Obviously, he did. It was a trivial question on her part. “...I’m sorry. I should’ve been more considerate.”

“You’ve been more than considerate, Megumi,” (Y/N) replied, nothing but honesty in her words. “I wish you’d stop carrying everything on your shoulders. Alone. Rather than keep it all to yourself, let me be considerate every now and then.”

Her poor attempt at a joke was met with a soft laugh from the nose, but it brought a smile to her lips anyway. 

“Let’s pay them a visit,” (Y/N) offered, finally stepping out of the doorway. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

When she turned to finally meet Megumi’s gaze again, the storm of emotions in it caused her breath to hitch. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that.

Like he’d set fire to the world if she asked him to. Like how she’d yearned for Yuuji to look at her, who only ever looked at her with admiration.

But then it was gone. It was such a rapid change, she wondered if she’d been mistaken. He’d ducked his head, his arms crossed against his chest.

“Let’s go then.”

By the end of another lethargically long week, Suguru and Shoko were preparing for their departure. The time allotted to them had come to an end, and though the results were not significant, they were still fruitful. Another week in the duchy might’ve been beneficial, but their absence in the capital could no longer be ignored. 

In several days, the kingdom would be in collective clamoring as the nobility prepared themselves for the New Year’s banquet and the common people busied themselves with festivities to celebrate the dawn of a new year. 

It would be the Grand Duke and Duchess’s first public appearance in the capital since their wedding. The nobility were already buzzing with excitement while anticipating the arrival of the newlyweds. It would appear that despite the oddity of their union, people were more focused on the intrigue of how their relationship had progressed. Though she’d already known what exactly they were looking to hear. After all, high society was fueled by rumors and scandals. As insignificant as it may sound, gossip ensured that the noble ladies were able to play a role in the complicated web of politics. It was something (Y/N) had yet to have the chance to master; with how eventful the past month was, hosting tea parties and meandering with other ladies had been low on her list of priorities. 

Megumi hadn’t admitted it to her yet, but (Y/N) could tell he was already dreading being paraded around once again. Like an exotic animal, a show of authority, and a reminder of loyalty to the crown. She was reminded of what he’d said during their engagement banquet. 

It may not be a battlefield, but one might wish to be spared the hypothetical bloodbath with an actual war.

“(Y/N).”

Shoko’s hands were warm as they cupped (Y/N)’s face, though it took a second for her face to focus. (Y/N), unaware of where the conversation had left off, blinked. Slowly.

Right. She and Megumi were in the process of sending Suguru and Shoko off. Something about taking care. Something about relaying the findings to Satoru. The past week had been anything but resting, between a second generous snowfall and assisting Shoko in her potion trials. Now that the duchy was preparing for its harshest season, the matter of food distribution had fallen onto (Y/N)’s plate. Monthly salaries for the castle staff were due, and supplies needed for the castle had to be drawn up. On top of it all, the castle still desperately needed a new resident physician. 

Shoko, true to her title as a prodigy, had developed what they thought were antidotes. And most importantly, it was working. Tsumiki, without the sansumi suppressing her, was growing steadier by the day. Yuuji was also showing signs of improvement, even if he was still unconscious. A crease in his forehead, a twitch of his eyelids. On different instances, (Y/N) swore his hands reacted to her touch or his name.

With the banquet swiftly approaching, (Y/N) was unsure of how to explain his absence to his parents. It was inevitable, and they deserved to know their son’s current state. But she already couldn’t bear to imagine the pain Lady Kaori would be in. How (Y/N) felt, it wouldn’t even compare. 

But wait, (Y/N)? Not “little cygnet”? Not “Your Highness”?

Shoko was staring her down intensely. 

“Yes?” (Y/N) managed, bracing herself for another lecture. She tried to recoil, but the hold Shoko had on her wasn’t going to budge. 

From behind Shoko, Suguru mustered a rueful laugh and grabbed her by the shoulder. A vein was visibly prominent on the back of his hand. 

“Shoko, let go already. You’re giving her a scare.”

She ignored him completely.

“I know you’re anxious, and that’ll make you impatient. But remember that it takes time to heal. Don’t rush Itadori. Take care of yourself.”

In the face of Shoko’s flippant but assuring smile, (Y/N)’s shoulders slacked. It was different hearing it from someone else compared to telling it to herself. Even if, for Shoko, this was routine for her career, it didn’t dismiss the fact that her sentiments stemmed from genuine concern.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she reassured Shoko, trying to replicate her smile. Satisfied, Shoko released (Y/N) and turned to board their carriage. Suguru made to follow but paused to give one last farewell.

“We’ll be waiting for you in the capital, (Y/N). Megumi.”

She nodded in acknowledgment, and so did Megumi, who was visibly perplexed by how the marquess had referred to him by his given name. The two waved at the departing carriage, waiting until its figure had receded past the estate gates.

“It’s cold,” Megumi commented, angling himself to peer down at (Y/N) once the carriage was fully out of sight. “Let’s head back.”

The castle felt quieter since then.

There was no guaranteed time frame for when the antidote would accomplish its purpose, Shoko had said. But two days later, the moment they’d so painstakingly awaited finally arrived.

(Y/N) had made it a habit to visit Yuuji during the afternoon, when she’d be taking a break from her duties. She’d sit and tell him about the documents she’d signed, or what Nobara and Megumi had bickered over that day. There would be no response from him, of course. But that was fine.

As she was preparing to leave the office, Megumi asked, “Yuuji’s?”

She nodded, watching as he set his pen down.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Megumi said, rearranging the pamphlets scattered across his desk.

(Y/N) had to smother a smile. “Sure thing, Your Grace.”

She hadn’t prepared herself for what was waiting for her. After all, there had been no signs. So when she arrived in Yuuji’s chambers, she froze in her tracks.

He was sitting upright in his bed, propped against the headboard. On his own. His head was turned, facing his window. Still tucked under his blanket, still dressed in a night shirt and trousers, but very much awake. 

Yuuji was back.

The door shut behind her with a gentle thump. She didn’t dare speak. Was this a trick? Had Makoto’s accomplices found a way into the castle undetected?

But then he turned his head around, his eyes finding hers, and (Y/N) was able to see life in his features again. He was back. Shoko’s antidote had worked.

“Yuuji,” she breathed, almost afraid to say it too loudly. She took a step closer, not sure how to approach him. “Yuuji, how are you feeling?”

“...Your Highness,” Yuuji rasped. He cringed, as if speaking hurt him. Her heart squeezed.

“Don’t strain yourself. Take your time,” she assured him, rushing to his side. A warm, giddy feeling was blossoming in her chest.

Finally. Finally. He’d returned to them. 

She sat herself down on the edge of his bed as she always did, thoughts and pulse racing in excitement. 

“It might be disconcerting for the first couple of hours. You don’t have to speak if it’s painful. I’ll have someone bring some parchment, and you can write out anything you need…”

Her voice trailed off as she realized something alarming. Yuuji’s irises, which were meant to be a golden brown color, now had hints of red in them. But that wasn’t the scariest difference. There was no warmth in his eyes. They were stony, cold even. Something unfamiliar, something predatory, was lurking beneath the gaze he had fastened on her. There wasn’t an ounce of affection. Nothing that was even reminiscent of how he always regarded her.

Who was this?

Wariness kicked in, but much too late for her to react in time without looking suspicious. Yuuji had already caught on.

He lunged at her, pinning her to the bed by the throat. (Y/N) didn’t even have a chance to yell for help before he’d already tightened his hands around her neck. His fingers dug into her skin, hard enough to draw blood if that was his goal.

She didn’t understand. What was happening? What could be influencing him to do this?

“Yuu…Yuuji…!” She choked out, clawing at his hands in an effort to pry him off. 

He wasn’t budging. If anything, it only encouraged him to strengthen the vice he had on her. (Y/N) gasped for air, thinking of ways to throw him off of her. She tried to lift her legs. A kick to the side would do the trick.

Realization hit her like a slab of stone. Without her even noticing, he’d locked both of her legs beneath his. There wasn’t even hope in trying the move. She could’ve sworn she saw amusement flash in his eyes. She wanted to believe she was mistaken. 

Megumi. Megumi should be coming. She just needed to hold him off until then. Rather than wheeze like a dying fish, (Y/N) chose to hold her next breath. Her vision was growing blurry, burning with tears. But Yuuji continued to stare her down with that cold, unforgiving gaze. His face looked so unfamiliar. He was unfamiliar. The hands that had coaxed her into slumber for decades were now the same ones that strangled her.

Was he regretting having suffered in her place? Was his resentment so strong that he’d settle for it by killing her?

The world was beginning to grow fuzzy. Somewhere behind them, she could hear the door opening, followed by the muddled sound of Megumi shouting. She tried calling for him, tried to tell him not to hurt Yuuji, but she couldn’t and watched as Megumi’s fist connected with Yuuji’s jaw.

He finally let go, and (Y/N) was immediately pulled into Megumi’s arms.

“What happened? What is going on?” Megumi asked frantically, angling himself so that she was shielded from Yuuji, who was now holding his injured face with one hand, thoroughly in shock. Megumi was tense, preparing for another attack, even if it pained him to. 

(Y/N) couldn’t answer. Her lungs were hungry for air, and the greediness only wracked her with coughs. With shaking hands, she tenderly touched the side of her neck, wincing at the spots Yuuji had managed to dig his nails into and where his grip had bruised. 

But when she met his eyes again, Yuuji no longer had that bloodthirsty look. Recognition gleamed in his gaze as he looked from (Y/N) to his hands, then back to (Y/N). Megumi’s punch had broken his lip, and blood was slowly dripping from the wound. The torment was real this time. Remorse, agony, disbelief. They were all real and raw and Yuuji again. 

“What…” Tears began to streak his cheeks. “What have I done?”

Chapter Text

The tangy, metallic taste of blood refused to leave his tongue. His cheeks stung with pain, but it hardly compared to the churning of his head. In bursts of vibrant colors and dizzying nausea, Yuuji’s head spun.

He didn’t even realize his hands were still outstretched in her direction, reaching out in vain. 

But then he watched her flinch, watched as an uncertain fear clouded her gaze. She didn’t flee, but she didn’t step forward either, remaining behind the arm Megumi was guarding her with. 

Guarding her from him. When that was his job, always had been. He’d already taken the spot beside her, so why did Megumi insist on taking the one thing that still belonged to him? 

A bitter pain, sharp and lethal, threatened to split Yuuji’s chest in half. Was this betrayal? Resentment? It was such a foreign emotion, yet his body seemed to understand it better than he did from the fiery sensation coursing through his veins. Yet, the surprise that he could even feel that way towards Megumi was more painful.

His traitorous arm shrank back towards himself. Yuuji had half the mind to chop it off. 

It didn’t feel like him. Nothing since he’d woken up felt like himself anymore. All Yuuji could remember was peeling open his eyes to the blinding afternoon sun. He didn’t remember sitting up or how he’d managed to break the cycle of nightmares. Didn’t remember hearing the princess enter his room, couldn’t recall ever lunging or attacking her.

But the way her pulse had felt under his hands was unforgettable. No, under his skin. The way she’d thrashed around, like a fish out of water. Her neck had felt so fragile, so delicate. Yuuji could’ve snapped it in one go if he’d wanted to. One fluid motion, and her life would’ve been his. Forever. 

He froze.

What?

The image that flashed before his eyes was so nauseating that Yuuji blanched, holding a hand to his mouth as he tried to contain his disgust. 

Where should he begin to fathom what prompted him to direct such bloodlust towards her?

The more he tried to repress it, the more the headache persisted. 

Through his daze, Yuuji could make out (Y/N) calling his name. But he also heard the hesitation in her footsteps when she merely shuffled forward, and that hurt more than he knew it should’ve. He’d just tried to take her life, after all. 

He spared her a glance, though not willingly. Something was controlling his movements, something that wasn’t of Yuuji’s natural disposition. A grimace twisted his lips. 

The look he gave (Y/N) must’ve been laced with malice, for alarm was written all over her face amidst fear-stricken eyes. Yuuji wanted to cry. She’d never looked at him like that before. Like she was regarding a provoked beast, one that was a mere impulse away from sinking its claws into her throat again.

In a striking contrast, Megumi’s gaze on him held firm and promised retaliation. But the way his brows were drawn, the way his jaw clenched. Yuuji could only pray that his friend felt as conflicted as he looked. 

It wasn’t me , Yuuji wanted to plead. His words failed him. 

Look.

Yuuji jerked backwards, nearly missing the headboard completely.  He whipped his head around. 

Who was that?

Look at what you’ve lost, the low, guttural voice rasped. How dare you lose to a scrawny half-born.

Something was snaking about in Yuuji’s mind, coiling around his consciousness, his limbs, his entirety. 

Is this what has become of my legacy?

The voice spat again, with no intentions of hiding its disappointment. 

Where is your spunk, brat?

Yuuji brought his hands up to his ears. 

Fear, in its truest form, took hold of him. Not the anxious, jittery fear that he often felt guarding (Y/N), nor the depressing, wallowing fear that he’d only just begun to embrace during his time unconscious. 

This was fear, raw and unbridled.

Some part of him was speaking. But it wasn’t him . This was a separate entity altogether. Whatever it was, whoever it was, Yuuji realized, it was controlling his actions and influencing his emotions.

Try to be more honest with yourself. 

Yuuji bristled. Was it reading his thoughts?

Your doltish thoughts, your needless emotions. Even your darkest desires, I know of them.

There was something akin to a sneer somewhere in the pointed words. 

“Get out.” 

The words had slipped off his tongue before he could even realize he’d voiced them aloud. They were met with a shocked silence, during which Megumi and (Y/N) shared a look that Yuuji chose to ignore. He knew how his demand must’ve sounded, but his patience was running thin, and he couldn’t spare them an explanation. 

A red-hot spark had begun to simmer beneath Yuuji’s chest. It was overwhelming enough to have been suddenly thrust back into the living world. Coupled with the confusion from having slept for so long, and a soreness that was beginning to grow apparent throughout his body, Yuuji couldn’t help but lament his situation. He’d just eluded death; now he had to worry if he’d be responsible for others’ deaths. What should’ve been a cause for joy had been thwarted by whatever parasite had invaded his mind.

How insolent of you, the voice replied scornfully. I am no parasite. 

“Get out,” Yuuji repeated, this time through gritted teeth. Both hands clawed at the side of his head, short of digging his mind out.

His head reeled. What could he do to fix this? Was there even a way to fix it?

Scornful laughter resonated through his mind.

What is there to fix? You are not broken, and I am not a flaw. 

Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut, more tears escaping in drops.

“This isn’t right,” he uttered. His voice was hoarse, his words akin to daggers within his throat. “You’re not me. Get out of my head, whatever you are.”

Perhaps this was just another layer of his recurring loop of nightmares. Maybe, if he were to will it hard enough, all that had happened would bleed into another dream. Then he could fix it, prevent all that had happened. 

Hands, cold to the touch, broke through his haze. They wrapped around his fingers, gently prying them from his head. But, most importantly, they were real. They trembled, yet they were determined even as Yuuji tried to pull away. Reluctantly, his gaze traced the hands to find those familiar violet eyes. So full of life, so incredibly real. No missing limbs, no bloodied stakes.

Every risk he’d gambled on was worth it in the end.

Her finger tapped twice on the back of his hand. Two beats that aligned perfectly with his heart. The same, simple gesture. A sign of reassurance, distinctive only to the two of them.

You’re alright now. 

It wasn’t the stranger in his head this time. It was (Y/N)’s voice as Yuuji remembered, and though every instinct was warning him to be alert, his subconscious was already preparing to let down its guard.

“What isn’t right?” She asked him softly, studying him with more concern and intensity than he wished she spared him. He didn’t know how to respond; after what had felt like an eternity, she was sitting before him once again. 

But she’d become gaunt. There was an exhaustion in the way she frowned that Yuuji had never seen before. As though she’d spent days upon days chasing after the impossible. Something crumbled within Yuuji; his absence must’ve caused her even more trouble.

The fear and shock from before had cleared from (Y/N)’s eyes, Yuuji noticed. But that didn’t mean his fear had. He tore his gaze and hands away from her. The strange voice had grown silent, but there was no saying when it would return and how it would influence him next.

What Yuuji recognized as hurt flashed across Her Highness’s face, but then she’d smothered it so quickly that he considered it a matter of delusion. 

His eyes darted in Megumi’s direction. The duke’s hands had gone slack, the tension visibly gone from his stance. The only thing left was a look of defeat that Yuuji couldn’t quite decode. 

“Would you…like some time alone?” (Y/N) asked, drawing her hands into her lap as she sat back. Her voice didn’t waver, though her dejection was crystal clear to Yuuji’s ears. 

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Please,” was all that he could muster. 

“Of course,” (Y/N) murmured in response, the skirt of her dress rustling as she stood from his bedside. “I’ll have someone wait outside, should you need anything.”

Truthfully, all he needed was her company in the moment. But until he figured out what that voice in his head meant—and why it had suddenly gone silent—he would only pose a threat to (Y/N).

She lingered, very briefly, until Yuuji nodded his head in acknowledgment. He couldn’t tell if she was intentionally slow with her motions to give him another chance, but he remained silent as she led Megumi away by the arm. Yuuji almost expected him to object, maybe throw some curses in his direction for harming (Y/N). 

But it never came. Megumi spoke not a single word, not even as he left the chamber. It sent a shiver down Yuuji’s spine; the freezing silence was far more brutal than any insult he could’ve thrown. 

Yuuji waited until their footsteps no longer sounded on the tiled floors, and the doors had clicked shut, to finally attempt to haul himself out of bed.

It would prove to be difficult, however. His legs were nothing more than dead weights once he’d swung them off the side of the bed. They were as heavy as lead, yet as Yuuji fell to his knees, he realized they’d were no stronger than twigs on a branch. Pain shot through him as he landed with a thud, his legs folded beneath him. But he didn’t cry out, merely clenched the floor as he gritted his teeth. 

He refused to. It would disparage the Itadori name and all the training his father had instilled in him to sob over a minor inconvenience. He was meant for greater responsibilities, even if it meant throwing away his body. 

The sound of someone sucking their teeth in poorly disguised reproach resonated in his mind.

He didn’t wait this time: “Didn’t I tell you to get out?”

Believe me, if there were a way to, I would’ve been long gone rather than put up with the likes of you. 

Through gritted teeth, Yuuji fumbled for the edge of his mattress, hauling himself upwards with a great deal of force. 

“I thought I’d gotten rid of you,” he grumbled. This time, having learned his lesson, Yuuji waited for sensations to gradually return to his limbs before attempting to stand. “I suppose even you know better than to speak ill of the princess.”

He was greeted with an unexpected silence. And then:

That girl had not an ounce of mana in her. A most unfortunate birth to the Gojo throne. 

Yuuji bristled, raising a threatening fist before himself. 

“What would you know? You’re not even a real person.”

The voice scoffed—although “barked” would be a more appropriate way of describing the sharp laugh that pierced through Yuuji’s mind.

Idiot, I am real. Or perhaps I should say I was. I don’t know how my consciousness lives on in your body, or who is responsible for necromancy of this power, though they are sure to suffer a horrible death at my hands. 

“You mean at my hands,” Yuuji immediately rebuked sourly,  “because you’re in my body.”

But his mind was racing elsewhere as he trudged his way to the adjacent bath chamber.

Necromancy?

Yuuji had spent the majority of his time at the academy dawdling in class, but even he was aware of the taboo on the dark arts. It was one thing to breathe life back into the dead, but another to instill the soul of the dead into the living.

All it takes is one prodigy with deadly ambitions, the voice answered him. Nothing is quite as impossible as you’d imagine. 

“But why bring back the dead? Why bring back you?” Yuuji muttered, mainly to himself, as he made a beeline for the wash basin. His legs were growing more and more accustomed to movement, though a numbness still lingered in his toes. 

It was a topic that stumped Yuuji; after all, magic and the like were not his forte. He almost wished that he’d paid more attention in his classes now, but it was a little too late for regrets. 

…Do you truly have no idea who I am, brat?

In the mirror hanging above the basin, the reflection staring back at Yuuji was a pitiful one. The busted lip, the bandaged head. The sunken cheeks, the sickly complexion. He looked like a walking corpse. But Yuuji leaned in, brows wrinkling. What was wrong with his eyes?

“No, I don’t know who you are,” he finally answered the stranger, pulling at his eyelids as he stared in disbelief. What was this odd red tint in his irises? No wonder (Y/N) had seemed so disturbed. 

Never before had his own face felt so unfamiliar to him.

An answer hit him nearly as soon as the words left his lips, and Yuuji frowned at his reflection.

“Is this your doing?”

There was a pause.

Not by choice, though I did have red eyes. In fact, the voice gave an amused snort, you bear quite a resemblance to a younger me. If not significantly less handsome. 

The knight froze. Not because his looks had been insulted, but because of the mentioned “resemblance.” It had only just occurred to him that, in the earlier confusion, Yuuji had overlooked something important. 

The voice had referred to Yuuji as a part of his legacy. As in, the stranger residing in his head was once, too, an Itadori.

There was a cluck of approval that bounced off the walls of his mind, startling Yuuji away from the mirror. 

Finally. You’ve learned to put thoughts together. I was beginning to doubt your intelligence.

The laugh that Yuuji breathed from his nose was one devoid of mirth. 

“I’m beginning to doubt myself,” he grumbled under his breath. “What sane person carries on a conversation with a voice in their head?”

Completely unfazed, the stranger continued his relentless pestering:

What do you know about the name Ryomen Sukuna, boy?

“My name is Yuuji. At least try to use it.”

Answer me.

Yuuji hesitated at the warning tone. Should he trust his instincts that were screaming at him not to trust the entity? 

But if he wanted to ensure that his actions wouldn’t put others in danger once again, shouldn’t he at least attempt to compromise? If Yuuji were to give the entity what it wanted, would there be no more instances such as the one before?

He thought of (Y/N). Thought of Megumi and Nobara.

The words that Yuuji began to recite had once been relayed to him during his childhood, spoken to him in the stern tone of his grandfather:

“...Ryomen Sukuna was a stain on the Itadori name. He…he was born a promising talent and a decorated Captain of the Royal Guards. But he was stripped of his title and name to be sentenced to death for…”

The realization hit him so suddenly that all he could do was swallow the remaining words. He’d already considered it, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted his suspicions confirmed.

For the murder of seven members of the Gojo clan. Yes. That is what you would know. But do you know why I did so?

Yuuji didn’t answer. A chilling dread swept over him. 

So you don’t.

“You murdered seven people in cold blood,” Yuuji blurted against his will, “What reason could you have to justify something so cruel?”

Sukuna paused, mused. He was treating this like a game of sorts, Yuuji noticed; this was nothing short of a form of entertainment to him. 

You have no idea why the Itadori house serves the Gojo lineage. 

“...It’s our duty.”

Duty? You think in an era of war and despair, any man born of free will would willingly submit and grovel at the feet of another?

The next bark of spiteful amusement rattled his brain, the contempt spreading like vines over his conscience. For a moment, Yuuji’s mind became a blank slate, overwritten by nothing but anger and loathing.

Without fail, he panicked. With what little sense he had left, Yuuji fumbled for the faucet, splashing water on his face in the hopes that it would bring him back to his senses. And it eventually did, the red-hot intensity of the emotions ebbing as the handfuls of cold water pelted his face. 

Now thoroughly soaked and dripping water, Yuuji gaped for air as he steadied himself on the edge of the basin. The lack of control, the sudden disconnection from reality; he cringed. This must’ve been what had happened earlier. 

He hated it. The thing occupying his mind was a killer through and through. 

They held us under an oath, brat. The elders who had lied to me continue to lie to you. We were not honored with the privilege of protecting the royal family. Our ancestors were forced into servitude.

I claimed those lives to prove a point.

“No,” Yuuji interrupted, sinking into a crouch. He might throw up. This conversation was heading in a direction he wasn’t sure he liked. “Stop.”

Think, brat. How is it that you’ve never once felt an ounce of disdain, never a thought of objection towards the Gojo clan? Why is it that your first instinct is to throw yourself in the way of danger without fail? And that sense of devotion you feel towards your little princess can remain unwavering?

They’re not real.

They’re part of a contract drawn from magic and blood. In yours, in your father’s, and in your future children. We have all been condemned to a destiny of which we had no choice. We were born as lap dogs to the Gojo dynasty, and we are expected to die as one. They live by trading the lives of our house. 

So then, tell me, Itadori Yuuji, was I wrong for those seven lives?

“You…,” Yuuji choked on his words. “How could you say that with innocent blood on your hands?”

And what would you know about blood on your hands? When it comes to it, can you kill for your beloved princess? Or will you argue the philosophy and morals of it?

Yuuji couldn’t answer him.

Though he remained firm in his belief, the revelation wanted to fill him with doubts and uncertainty that gnawed at him viciously. He’d been raised with nothing short of love and affection. Yuuji knew better than anyone what it meant to care for someone, and what it felt like to hold someone dear to his heart. 

But it didn’t stop him from growing uncertain about his already muddy emotions for Her Highness. If what Sukuna was telling him was true, did Yuuji ever have autonomy over his feelings to begin with?

He wanted to believe that Sukuna was wrong. Obligation can be born of contract, and adoration is born from the years of being by her side. Who’s to say it cannot be both?

How gullible. You want to believe that she wouldn’t hurt you, yet she’s already moved on.

Thoroughly exhausted, Yuuji dragged his hands down his face. Yes, that was what felt different. The rift between (Y/N) and Megumi had grown smaller, but that was nothing short of what he’d expected.

He would be alright. He had to be alright.

Sukuna scoffed once again.

Childish.

Yuuji groaned into his hands, already growing tired of his ancestor’s nagging.

“How long do you intend to stay?”

Must I remind you that that is not a decision to be made by me?

“Then what is needed to end this…” Yuuji struggled to find the right term. “...this seance?”

…I might’ve found that humorous had it not been offensive to me. You’d have better chances of asking Her Highness for answers.

Sukuna then lazily added: I can be beneficial to you, brat. Why be in a hurry to get rid of me?

Perhaps because he’d already been slapped with one shocking revelation after another, Yuuji was beginning to relent to his situation. So be it; if he was unable to evict Sukuna from his body, then he’d learn to control him, conquer him, so that Yuuji could no longer be a danger to those around him.

This wasn’t acceptance, nor was it a peaceful ceasefire. It was a threat, and simultaneously, a challenge. 

His eyes eventually trailed towards the tub in the center of the chamber. Even he wanted to laugh at the reason he proceeded to give:

“...I wanted to take a bath without an audience.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. 

“The doctor’s dead?” Yuuji echoed. Next to him, (Y/N) nodded with a solemn frown. 

“Not just dead, Itadori. She’s practically no more than a porcelain doll,” Nobara added from the foot of his bed, grimacing as if recalling something grotesque. Yuuji didn’t want to know what she was thinking of. 

Somehow, his chamber was full of people, despite the high-hanging moon outside his window. He’d expected Nobara and Megumi to accompany (Y/N), but not Yuuta or Maki or even Toge, who have all trailed in as a group. 

They’d sat him through a thorough explanation of everything he had missed out on, during which Yuuji had been tossed from one emotion to another without a moment of pause. The shock of learning he’d only been unconscious for two weeks had quickly melted into relief upon being told everyone at the orphanage was doing well, only to morph into horror when being relayed to the findings of the assassination.

Sukuna had stopped his spiteful commentary from earlier in the day, though his presence in Yuuji’s mind remained a quiet buzz. Yuuji didn’t expect him to have held out for so long, but a part of him suspected Sukuna’s silence was for the sake of observation. Even when (Y/N) was explaining his unconscious state to him, Sukuna was practically mute. 

Yuuji hadn’t shared with (Y/N) what Sukuna had told him; it would only cause her unnecessary panic. And the way she continued to treat him in the same fashion, even after what he had done to her, Yuuji couldn’t bear to burden her with any more problems. Until he could ask and confirm with the king himself, the chances of those confessions being nothing more than lies and manipulation remained high. 

They are not lies, Sukuna’s voice drawled out of the blue.

Yuuji fliched, noticeably. The sudden motion earned him concerned looks from both (Y/N) and Nobara, along with a vague side-eye from Megumi. 

I wish you’d give a warning before speaking , Yuuji thought pointedly while trying to veil his surprise with a sheepish smile.

Sukuna gave a flippant scoff and fell silent once again. Before Yuuji could breathe a sigh of relief, Megumi addressed him in an icy tone:

“Itadori.”

The knight in question bristled, meeting Megumi’s gaze with a nervous look.

“Do you feel any different from before the incident?”

A tense silence settled across the room. Anyone with ears could hear the hidden meaning between Megumi’s words.

Are you still the same person?

Ha. Sukuna’s laugh rang in Yuuji’s mind. He’s bright, that one.

But Yuuji was the only one who interpreted it in another way, in the way Megumi actually meant it.

And, naturally, Yuuji shook his head. “No, nothing has changed.”

Much to Yuuji’s dismay, his response didn’t seem to have the effect he expected. While Megumi’s scrutiny had softened, nodding his head in acknowledgement, Yuuji could still catch glimpses of buried apprehension in his eyes.

Yuuji’s gaze flickered to (Y/N), to the bandages wrapped around the base of her throat. A pang struck his heart; no matter how many times he laid eyes on the injury he’d cause. And because of it, he didn’t have the heart to blame Megumi. Had it been Yuuji in his place, he would’ve done the same. 

There was nothing worth being hurt over.

Megumi was once again the one to break the silence. 

“We’ll be leaving for the capital tomorrow morning. If you feel that you’re unable to, I’ll have Inumaki continue guarding Her Highness.”

The vice captain across the room responded with a reliable nod of his head. 

Before Yuuji could answer, (Y/N) was the first—and only—to object.

“Yuuji, it hasn’t even been a full day since you woke up. Don’t push yourself.”

He knew that. Realistically, he knew best that he was in no shape to return to active duty so urgently.

But he shook his head.

“I’ll go.”

“Yuuji.”

“Your Highness,” he responded, greeting her stern gaze with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can do it. It would also put my parents at ease if they were to see me in person.”

He knew she couldn’t rebuke anything whenever he brought up his parents, and as expected, her gaze narrowed in frustration. Whatever argument she had lined up never came.

It wasn’t an excuse either; he truly did want to see his parents. At the end of the day, he was still their son, and he didn’t doubt that his father was holding his mother back from making the trek north herself.

How incredibly heartwarming , Sukuna remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yuuji chose to ignore him, motioning instead for the entourage in his chamber to retire.

“Off to bed, everyone,” he joked, “there’s no need to have all of you guarding me.”

Oddly enough, no one moved. Until Megumi stood up from where he sat, and suddenly Yuuji was being pelted with farewells and goodnights as they all excused themselves out.

“Don’t hesitate should you need anything,” Megumi mumbled, patting Yuuji once on the shoulder. 

He returned the friendly gesture with a salute accompanied by a smile. “Understood, Your Grace.”

For the first time since he’d returned, Yuuji finally caught what appeared to be a smile curving the corners of Megumi’s lips. With one last nod, he turned away in preparation to leave. But not without exchanging a look with (Y/N), who continued to remain seated. The brief, almost inconspicuous brush of a touch they shared; Yuuji had to turn his gaze away.

The smile felt frozen on Yuuji’s face when the door shut behind Megumi, but (Y/N) hadn’t even budged. There was a familiar gleam in her eyes that almost always meant he was in trouble. 

“...Your Highness, surely you’re not thinking of sleeping here tonight?”

His attempt at jesting was met with arms being crossed in defiance.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

As if it were second nature, Yuuji suddenly found himself being distracted by his nightstand beside (Y/N). 

Oh, she’s equally as bright. Say, brat, are you the only one who lacks a proper train of thought?

His brow twitched at Sukuna’s offhand comment, but Yuuji drew in a deep breath as he prepared to lie through his teeth.

“I would never.”

(Y/N)’s stare spoke of insults more vulgar than anything she could put into words. He fought the urge to fidget. As much as he missed her, being pinned under her gaze was still something that made him unnerved.

But then she sighed in defeat, one hand fiddling with the edges of her bandages. Yuuji’s heart shriveled within his rib cage. The cloth gauze hid most of the bruises, but he could still see the harsh outlines of reddish-purple that weren’t completely covered. He’d never doubted her faith in him, but for her to still be sitting here with no guards—he didn’t know if he could consider it smart on her part. 

“Whatever it is, I can wait to hear about it. Don’t rush yourself.”

He listened to her pause, her next words preceded by a sharp intake of breath.

“When Shoko was here–”

“Shoko was here?”

“Stars above, Yuuji. We mentioned that minutes ago.”

His nose crinkled. Had they?

“You’ll have to forgive my memory. I was only hit on the head by some wooden beams after all.”

His cheekiness was met with a playful nudge, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.

“Yet you still possess an upsetting amount of audacity,” (Y/N) cracked a small smile. “Listen. Shoko believed that Makoto had cast a hex on you.”

At this, Yuuji made a face. More magic terms, more concepts he didn’t understand.

(Y/N) continued her explanation:

“The treatment that was administered must’ve reversed whatever was keeping you unconscious. But Shoko had her suspicions that there may have been multiple layers to the spell. And, and after what happened earlier in the day…”

“You think she’s right,” Yuuji finished for her, wearing a wistful, crooked smile. “Because I would never hurt you on my own free will.”

It felt different saying it now; it felt weird , knowing what he did. But Yuuji imagined that was exactly what Sukuna wanted, and he refused to give him a moment of triumph.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, merely stared down at her hands in shame.

After a beat of silence, Yuuji finally managed to whisper the apology he’d been holding in.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). You must’ve been terrified.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, only shook her head. 

“No, I…I wasn’t afraid of dying at your hands. What scared me was the possibility of having already lost you to something you couldn’t control.”

He needed to tell her. He should tell her; this was practically the golden opportunity.

Tell her what? That you hear voices? That a dead man’s soul resides in your mind? Do you think she’d believe you?

Sukuna’s snide comments were reasonable for once. But, Yuuji contemplated as he stared at the top of her head, if it was (Y/N), she’d believe him.

Right?

In the end, he couldn’t find the courage in himself.

“I’m still me. You don’t have to worry.”

Another lie, this time with part truth to it. The ever-growing pit of guilt chewed at Yuuji the more he realized he’d become a better liar.

This time, when (Y/N) met his eyes with red-rimmed ones, he didn’t run. Didn’t hide. Just waited for her to find the answers she wanted.

It took several heartbeats before she nodded. The boulder on Yuuji’s shoulder should’ve felt lighter, yet it only seemed to grow heavier. He desperately wanted to dry the tears welling in her eyes, despite not knowing how well she’d react to his hands near her face again. 

So he didn’t. (Y/N) ended up catching her tears with the back of her hand, before standing from her seat. 

“I know you’ve slept for a while, but…try to rest before the morning.”

“You too,” he told her, “His Majesty and my mother might have my head if you went home without spirit.”

The laugh he provoked from her managed to disperse some of the queries clouding his heart. It was another reminder that they could still have some semblance of normality in their life. 

“I’ll try my best to convince them otherwise.”

She hesitated for several seconds, but the silence had already drawn on for too long, and she ended up turning to leave. At the door, (Y/N) paused for one last time, her smile ever the doting, fond one:

“Good night, Yuuji.”

He gave a little wave. “Good night, Your Highness.”

And then she was gone. The chamber, which had been so lively just a mere hour ago, had once again been overtaken by a soft loneliness.

But to Yuuji, there were worse things than just silence.