Wistal Castle had grown quiet in the late hours of the night.

The quiet was deafening to Shirayuki, who tossed and turned in the familiar bed she had missed nearly as much as her friends. She should have fallen asleep with ease - she was exhausted. It had been a long journey back from Lyrias, and her stomach had been in knots the entire time. Though Obi had told her several times during their journey that everyone was alright, she knew in her heart that she wouldn't be able to relax until she saw them in the flesh; until she could embrace them and feel for herself that they were real.

And she had - Zen most of all. The memory of it was seared vividly into her mind. As intensely quenching as their kiss had been to her worry, and her longing, what she replayed over and over again as she stared up into the blackness was gentler, simpler; and yet, it sent her heart racing.

The moment the library door had swung open, her stomach lurched in anticipation. She knew that seeing him after so long, especially under the circumstances would send her composure through the window. But she hadn't been prepared, when she spun around, for what overtook her once their eyes locked. Had the blue of his irises always been that crystalline? Had his face always been so structured, so elegant - even now, as it mirrored the desperation she felt surge through her? Unable to look away, unable to speak, her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill with the softest flutter of her eyelids.

Zen went to her. She had been on the second level of the library, just a few steps up the railing, but reaching them required him to pass her, and as he got closer Shirayuki found herself leaning over the wall. Moths to a lantern, they reached for each other at the same time, their fingers outstretched toward a tender warmth they felt they might die without. A soft cry of relief came out of her mouth as Zen took her hands in his, and he looked up at her in wonder as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Zen," she said, his name on her tongue a song he wished to hear every moment of his life. "Thank goodness."

Thank goodness you're safe. Thank goodness you're here. Thank goodness I can see you, touch you, feel you. In Shirayuki's eyes Zen could see everything he'd felt in her absence reflected back at him, and he squeezed her fingers as his own relief and love spilled down his face in hot, salty streams. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes emeralds submerged at sea, and her hands felt so small, so hot in his. Zen brought his forehead to where they were joined, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart. For several moments they held onto each other there, catching their breath.

Finally, Zen looked up again.

"Shirayuki," he breathed. "Stay there...and lower your body. I don't want to lose focus of this one moment."

He let go, racing for the stairs.

Shirayuki kicked the covers off of herself, suddenly so hot, so out of breath. She lay one hand over her chest, nearly in tears again as she recalled the moment and all of the ones thereafter. Sweat threatened to prickle on her shoulders, at her forehead. Why was she so hot? Her chest heaved, and she clutched at it as she sat up in bed, no longer able to stand it. She would see him tomorrow, she knew this, but it wasn't enough. She'd never be able to sleep if she couldn't quell this feeling.

Zen worked late frequently. With any luck, he'd be in his study, a stack of paperwork in front of him. It was inappropriate for her to wander the castle halls at this hour, and even more so to seek out the prince, but that was an afterthought as she lurched from her bed. She struggled into proper clothes and attempted to smooth her disheveled hair despite her urge to throw open the door and run towards the study, barefoot and all. The hour was late and Zen could very well be asleep in his chambers, but a desperate hope welled in her chest as she finished pulling on her boots and at last reached for the door. If she could just see his face, confirm once again that they were here together, it might calm the heavy thumping in her chest.

And yet, when she opened the door and found Zen standing there, his hand poised to knock, she feared her heart would shatter the cavity it tried to escape.

Neither of them could find words for a moment, their eyes locked in surprise, each wondering if the other was on the same mission.

"I couldn't sleep," Shirayuki said at last, her fingers tugging at the fabric of her dress as she dropped her gaze to the floor. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment from the state she was in. She had planned to take the few minutes it would take to walk to his study to compose herself, but there was no way to hide it from him now. "I know it's late, but...I was hoping you'd be awake. I was going to see if you were still working." He had been, from the looks of it. He was still in his royal garb: richly colored, heavy fabric, always tailored to him perfectly.

"I just finished up," Zen said, scratching his head. "I was about to turn in for the night, but I wanted to….Shirayuki, are you alright?"

Shirayuki nodded vigorously, still unable to look up at him, to say anything more. A second later, cool, gentle fingers cupped her jaw, tilting her chin up until she was forced to meet those piercing eyes again. A clear, open sea, she watched them wash over her face, his brows knitting together in concern. He was so handsome, so tender. She held her breath, afraid to move.

"Are you sure?" He asked, noting how feverish her skin felt against his palm. "You're so flushed. Do you need to go to the medical wing?"

"No," she blurted, suddenly afraid he'd part from her, that he'd drop his hand away. She reached up to place her palm over his hand, leaning into his touch. "I'm not sick, I just…I couldn't wait until morning to see you again."

A blush crept across Zen's cheeks as it dawned on him that she wasn't flustered because she was unwell, and he ran a thumb over her cheek, savoring the warmth and the satisfaction it now granted him. "Me either," he murmured, leaning closer. "I didn't think you'd be awake, but I found myself coming here anyway."

They lingered in the doorway, hesitating. Castle guards patrolled the halls, and though Zen's authority disallowed them from interrupting, there'd be little they could do to curb any rumors that resulted from them being spotted together in the archway of Shirayuki's chambers at this hour. She'd asked him to come inside once to talk, long ago, but Zen had refused and taken her elsewhere in lieu of the implications. He'd come into her room with her once during their stay in the mountains, but things were different inside the castle. Neither of them had impure intentions, but he was only being proper. Shirayuki admired that about him.

Now, as Zen's gaze dropped to her lips, his thumb itching to run across them, he wasn't sure his intentions were entirely pure.

A lighthearted conversation between two guards carried up the hall, snapping the pair out of their trance as the sound grew closer. It was now or never. Goodnight, see you tomorrow, or...

"Will you stay with me?" The words escaped before Shirayuki could stop them, a product of a sudden loneliness she couldn't even fully comprehend. She regretted them instantly as Zen's eyes widened, his hand falling from her face. Of course he'd say no; it was inappropriately late, and this was her room, and -

"Yes." In the two and a half seconds it had taken Shirayuki to decide to apologize and rescind the offer, he'd taken her hand, his answer an unflinching flame in the darkness. I told you once that I'd always stay with you, if you want.

A smile that fell somewhere between relief and unhindered joy graced her lips. "Okay."

The door shut behind them just as the guards rounded the corner.

There, in the dark stillness of her room, the world melted away.

Zen leaned against the door, his heart thundering wildly. He was alone with her - truly alone. They stared at each other, unblinking, holding their breath as the guards passed. How narrowly they'd escaped discovery. How luckily. And yet, despite the consequences a rumored affair would surely stir up, they found themselves laughing a moment later. They weren't sure who'd cracked first, only that composure felt impossible. It had been years they'd known each other now; they'd both grown older and wiser, taken on responsibilities and faced hardships they never imagined. But in that room, for just a moment, they felt like children again, hiding from their caretakers in the trees.

"That was close," Shirayuki said breathlessly, her stomach protesting any further contractions. She and Zen found themselves on the sofa once they'd calmed, recovering from the adrenaline.

"Yeah." Her laughter - how he'd missed the gentle bell of it. Like tinkling chimes in the summer, the sound warmed him from the inside out. He was unable to look away as she caught her breath, his eyes drawn to the shadows her lashes cast over her cheeks, the upturned corners of her mouth. So much time had passed since they'd been with each other, or had more than a fleeting moment to themselves. Zen smiled as he leaned closer to her, reaching out to touch her hair.

Shirayuki's eyes had been closed, but they fluttered open in surprise at the gentle sensation. "Zen?"

He twirled a few locks of it in his fingers, running them through the silky ends that brushed just past her shoulders now. Beautiful.

She watched him sidelong, entranced as his pale, elegant fingers slipped between the vibrant strands.

"It's gotten so much longer since I saw you last," he said softly.

Shirayuki had been working hard in Lyrias, and she enjoyed herself and appreciated her position there immensely. She'd always wanted to advance as an herbalist, to learn more and help the people around her, but she'd had come from such humble, common beginnings. Never in a million years had she thought she'd be working alongside the very people she looked up to, much less garnering their respect and the privilege of their friendship. Lyrias had expanded on the future she discovered she could have in Wistal, and though she was far from Zen, the memory of his hand in hers gave her strength.

"Zen?" Shirayuki turned her head to face him fully, and he looked up at her again, his eyes bright and alert as he waited for her to speak. She took the hand that had been caressing her hair and held it close to her chest, for courage. "I keep thinking about how differently things could have turned out." The sorrow in her voice made Zen's heart pang. "Not just what happened in the castle, but everything leading up to this very moment. If Prince Raji had summoned me a day later, if I'd made my escape a little earlier, if I'd chosen a different path in the woods that day, or a different place to rest…I can't help thinking that there's a world where I don't know you, where none of this exists, and it breaks my heart."

Such an unlikely, winding path it was that brought her here.

Zen smiled softly at her, squeezing her fingers.

"If we hadn't met that day at the border," he began, "I would have seen you at the palace the day you applied for an apprenticeship, and fallen in love with you the first time I saw you for treatment." Shirayuki's eyes opened in surprise, her pulse picking up speed. "If you hadn't made it to Clarines at all, and instead had been captured by Raji's men, I'd have heard about the would-be concubine turned Tanbarun's saving grace and most talented pharmacist, and I'd have fallen in love with you upon my first visit to the court." She found conviction in his eyes, clear as day. "If Raji had never summoned you at all, if you hadn't fled Tanbarun in the first place, if your hair wasn't unusual, if it was brown or blonde insead, it doesn't matter."

He felt tears of frustration brim, and he pulled Shirayuki close, embracing her tightly as he spoke into the crook of her neck.

"There is no universe where I would not find you," he whispered. "There is no universe where I wouldn't fall in love with you. And there is no universe where I wouldn't fight with everything I have to remain by your side." She nearly sobbed into him as she hugged him back, his shirts gripped tightly in her fists.

"But if red is the color of fate…"

Zen pulled back, just slightly, just enough to look into her eyes again, two jewels filled with more love and light than the sun itself could hope to radiate.

"Then we would see it together in the apple trees during the summers. Or in a cut that needed healing. Or behind our eyelids as the sun wakes us in the morning, before we see each other again. That's the thing about fate, Shirayuki." She trembled when he said her name, the word enveloped in a warmth he reserved solely for her. "It leaves nothing up to chance."

She kissed him then, unafraid.

This time, it was his face she took in her hands. She kissed him firmly but languidly, their lips moving together in a slow, unhurried dance as she conveyed her gratitude, her love for him in return. They had time tonight. It had been fought for long and hard, and as the moon shone through the open window, bathing the lovers in hazy light, it belonged to them.

Zen had gotten carried away in the library. It had been so long since he'd held her; he'd become greedy, his joy and his passion overtaking him as he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her, nearly spilling them both onto the ground as he did so. Even now, he found it difficult not to lean her back on the couch as she pressed herself closer to him and wound her arms around his neck, arching into the hand he had on her waist. He consciously locked the other one in place on the backrest, determined not to push.

Shirayuki felt a slow burning at every point of contact, fuel to the fire that had crawled beneath her skin for hours. What was this feeling? She couldn't tell if kissing him sated her or left her starved for more. His lips were soft, yielding, but entirely responsive to her enthusiasm. Zen recalled the first time he'd ever dared to kiss her, a split-second decision he'd made in the watchtower. She'd been so surprised then that she'd barely kissed him back, her face a shade nearly as bright as the damp hair that framed it.

Even in the kisses after that, when she'd be ready, Shirayuki had always felt that Zen had been leading. It wasn't that she minded; the way he could declare his feelings for her so boldly, his intentions so honestly, both in language and touch was mesmerizing to her. And the fact that he could do so while being endlessly patient and sensitive to her own needs: the space to come to terms with her feelings, the time to sort out what a future with him would look like, if it was something she would fight for. He'd never demand more from her than she was capable of giving. Zen would wait forever if he had to, if that's what she needed.

She remembered the day she'd declared she wanted to stay by his side. The way he'd pressed his lips to her neck in the moments after in silent joy, as if she'd given him the world - the feeling of her knees buckling under that intimate caress, and the sealed promise of their kiss. Shirayuki had known then, just as she knew now: there was no future she could see without him.

She parted her lips just slightly as Zen continued to gently hold her, a passive invitation he was hesitant to take. Realizing she needed to show him what she wanted, one of her hands moved to the collar of his shirt, where she pulled, tilting her head so that she could open her mouth for him. A deeply buried longing resonated in the prince's chest at the unexpected demand, his grip on her waist tightening as he finally surged forward. The next time their mouths opened, their tongues met softly, and a delicate sound came from Shirayuki's throat that left Zen's ears ringing.

His hand left the backrest of its own accord to settle on the back of her head, pulling her impossibly closer. Their kissing grew deeper, Shirayuki's hands more adventurous. Her fingers touched his neck, where she could feel his racing pulse, nearly matching her own. They brushed upwards toward his jaw, which she suddenly pulled away to press her lips to, and Zen's breath hitched.

"Zen," She murmured, her forehead falling to his shoulder, where she tried to catch her breath. It was a question and a plead all the same. Her lips burned even as the cool night air blew across the wetness of them. Zen's hand moved towards the nape of her neck, his fingers gently gripping the hair there as he urged her to the side, his nose brushing against the skin of her throat. The kisses he placed there were nothing like the one from long ago. Opened-mouthed, he laved his tongue against her neck in a searing trail all the way up to her ear, hoping to hear that sensuous, delightful sound again.

He was entirely lost in her.

Shirayuki gripped at the front of his shirts, her eyes closed tightly as she held back the noises that threatened to escape. The warm slickness of his mouth, just there, below her ear made her shudder into him.

"Shirayuki?" Zen's voice was so low, so husky. When he pulled back to look at her again, his eyes were midnight pools, pupils blown and bottomless. "Are you okay with this?" The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable or let his desire cloud his judgement. If she even hesitated, he'd back off. This was unexplored terrain for both of them, and he'd make no move to rush their discoveries along.

Hesitation, however, was not what he found in her gaze as she stared back at him.

"I have this feeling in my chest," Shirayuki said, feeling her cheeks flare at her own straightforwardness. She pushed on. "It's hard to describe. Your hands have held and protected me so many times, and there have been moments where all I felt in them was love and safety. I feel that always, no matter what. But right now...Zen, every place you touch me feels like it's on fire." She held his eyes, determined to convey her surety. "Is it okay if I ask you not to stop?"

He wasn't sure what he'd expected her to say, but it certainly wasn't that. It was a reminder that her charming bashfulness wasn't the discomfort he sometimes led himself to believe she felt; that despite the fact that she couldn't often put it into so many words, she desired him as fully and with as much cognizance as he did her. He wondered if she could see the blood spreading across his own cheeks in the dimness.

I know what you mean, Shirayuki. He felt it where her lips had touched his jaw, that singular spot radiating enough heat to warm him five times over. He laced one of his hands in hers, his smile tender, his eyes sparkling as he spoke with the honesty she so loved about him.

"I never want to stop."

When their lips met again, Zen kissed her relentlessly, unabashedly, finally unbound by restraint. One of his hands flattened against the span between her shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of her neck, and then, slowly, Shirayuki felt herself being lowered. She clung to him even as her back met the seat of the couch, gasping into his mouth when his hand slid down her waist. Something deep inside of her fluttered softly at the sensation, and kissing him properly felt more difficult by the second when she was preoccupied with the gentle pressure of his fingers as they curved around a part of her leg she'd never realized had so many nerve endings. Exhilarated, she arched into the small space between their chests, craving contact. This was new to her, and yet, like most things her heart was in, she found herself wanting to learn everything at once.

Patience was a virtue that the lovers had mastered; they practiced it daily, hourly, by the minute. Their differing worlds had put them in a position that required them to make peace with the waiting or let it drive them mad, and like a quiet, winding road, patience had gotten them through the worst of times and led them here, where they'd wanted to be for so long.

Why, then, Zen wondered was it lost on him now? He felt insatiable. He couldn't kiss her hard enough, quickly enough; he couldn't feel enough of her beneath him, couldn't possibly touch all of the places he wanted at once. Shirayuki was nearly panting when he pulled away to kiss her neck again, and the sound of it had his grip tightening on her thigh. It was as if he was trying to make up for every moment they'd had cut short, every night they'd parted, and every embrace that had ended too soon. Through the haze, a memory from a few years ago tapped at the back of his mind.

"Good job today, Zen. I know there was a lot to do."

Zen nodded, his face concerningly somber as he eyed the stack of paperwork he'd been working on all day. "Leaving the castle for even a day has consequences, and they are consequences I am prepared to endure for a break. I'm not sure if my legs work anymore, though."

Mitsuhide laughed, an easy sound that filled the room. "If you need some exercise, I wouldn't mind training with you for a bit. Since Kiki's on break, I've been restless today too."

"That sounds great. I'll get changed."

"I'll see you down there." Mitsuhide headed for the door, but paused at the sound of Zen's voice, noticing a shift in his tone.

"Can I ask you something?" He sounded tentative, unsure.

"Of course." Mitsuhide's answer was immediate, worry etched across his features as he turned to face him. "What is it?"

Zen was silent for a few moments, staring intently down at the empty deskspace in front of him.

"Is something wrong?"

He remained mute, red blooming across his nose.

"Zen?"

He'd give Mitsuhide a heart attack if he didn't speak up.

"It's about making love."

The words hung in the air for several long, long seconds as they stared back at one another. Mitsuhide's eyes were wide with astonishment, both from the unexpectedness of such a topic brought up at this moment, and the simple fact that Zen was choosing to ask him. Mitsuhide had long gained Zen's trust, but he still found himself surprised when the prince confided in him without any prompting.

Mitsuhide also wondered what about the political reports he'd been reviewing all day had led him to dwell on sex, but Zen was a teenage boy, after all, and besides - if the growing redness of his face was any indication, it must have been difficult enough to ask without any knee-jerk teasing. Composing his startled expression into one of stoic neutrality, a sense of duty had him standing up straight, his shoulders back as he spoke cooly.

"I will try my best to answer your questions, Highness, but I do feel that you are old enough to view anatomical diagrams and they might be of more use to you. I can personally visit the library for texts that might be useful, if -"

"Mitsuhide." Zen's face was a picture of stifled disbelief and amusement. "How old do you think I am?"

"You're seventeen, your Majesty."

"Stop that."

"Sorry. Zen." His formal tendencies had slipped through his carefully crafted composure.

"I don't need a lesson about the birds and the bees. I know the mechanics." Zen's face fell into one of his hands as he laughed, his embarrassment from earlier nearly forgotten. "My brother has had several marriage interviews this week. It seems far off now, but once he's married, I'm next. It's just gotten me thinking about how little I know about romantic love, and how much less I know about physically expressing it. I guess I was just...asking for advice to keep in mind in the future. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable - you don't have to answer."

Mitsuhide contemplated Zen's words, his face softening. "It's not that I'm uncomfortable with the topic - I feel underqualified to give it to you."

Zen sat back in surprise. "Oh. Does that mean you're -"

"No," Mitsuhide said quickly, his own cheeks reddening. The last thing he ever thought he'd be sharing with Zen was his sexual history. "It's just that I've never done that and been in love."

They were both quiet for a moment as he considered that. Zen doubted he'd have the kind of relationship with anyone else that allowed him to ask such honest questions, or that he'd ever be able to work up the nerve to awkwardly stumble through a conversation like this again. Besides, even though Mitsuhide was a dutiful aide and rarely talked about his personal life, Zen was aware of two things: that women fell all over him, and that he wasn't interested in anyone but Kiki.

"I'll take it anyway," Zen declared decidedly, crossing his arms.

Mitsuhide nodded, walking across the room to stare out the window at the clear night sky as he gathered his thoughts. After a few silent minutes, he spoke.

"I think...what's most important is that you take your time." Turning to look at Zen, his eyes were soft. "Especially at first. You'll naturally want to rush, because you'll always want more of what feels good to you. But going slowly, and taking the time to gauge your partner's needs and feelings - and your own - is key, because that's what you'll remember most when you look back on that moment."

Zen nodded. "That makes sense."

"Also," Mitsuhide continued, looking out the window again, the flush returning to his face as he spoke quietly. "It is my personal belief that you should make sure your lady's needs are fulfilled first, even if they don't ask that of you."

Zen smiled thoughtfully. "I suppose that applies to more than making love."

"It often does."

Of course.

Zen's ministrations halted, and Shirayuki froze beneath him at his sudden stillness.

"Zen?" She breathed, trying to subdue a growing panic as his face lay in the juncture of her neck. Had she asked too much of him, had he changed his mind? She prepared herself to apologize, pushing softly at his shoulders so that she could see his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

He pulled back at once, but the confliction she expected find was missing. In its place was an unwavering determination, one she had seen many times before: in the heat of a swordsmatch, in the way he spoke of his duty to Clarines and its people, and in his vows to protect their future together. It was fire burning blue, the color of the irises she couldn't look away from.

"Everything's fine," he said, removing his hand from her leg to touch her cheek lovingly, trying to memorize the warmth. "I just don't want to rush this moment. I want to remember it vividly. After all, we have the entire night ahead."

Something Shirayuki couldn't name pooled in her stomach at those last few words.

"So you want to move slowly?"

Zen kissed her deeply, but with resolute purpose, knowing words may never be enough to accurately convey how much he felt for her, or how much power she had over him. But he could try, at least.

"I want to take care of you," he murmured, upon pulling away. Shirayuki preferred to take care of herself in most regards; she appreciated the help of others and had learned that leaning on those who cared about her could be immensely rewarding, but being doted on made her uncomfortable. Still, in Zen's arms, the thought of being doted on felt less oppressive and more like an answer to a prayer she hadn't known she'd been beseeching. "Will you let me?"

"Yes."

Suddenly, Zen's warmth left her.

She sat up on the couch, confusion clouding features her as he kneeled on the floor before her, his head down. Her mouth opened, poised to ask, but when he looked up at her through the pale bangs that fell in front of his forehead, her words were lost in the ardor of his gaze. His hand reached out for hers, and she took it without hesitation.

The moonlight seemed to cast a halo around him, illuminating the silver of his hair, the fairness of his skin. A bloom of color that was less bashful and more fervent touched the tops of his cheekbones, and though Shirayuki had been told hundreds of times that her hair was beautiful, she'd never realized red could look so lovely on anyone.

"I want to try this," Zen said, the fingertips of his free hand touching the top of her thigh, hot even through the fabric. "Is that alright?" It took a few seconds for Shirayuki to understand what he meant, and her eyes widened in surprise. A thrill surged through her, anticipative heat washing over her entire body. She was nervous, and yet, where their hands connected, a reminder of the unfaltering trust she had in him calmed her heart.

"Yes," she said again, breathless.

He squeezed her hand once, smiling at her before he let it go.

And then his eyes fell to the hem of her dress, where he softly touched, pushing it up, and up, and up, until it bunched over her hips. There, between the gathered fabric of the skirt and the waist of her stockings was a sliver of flawless skin, and he brushed his fingertips across it, marveling. Shirayuki's stomach tightened reflexively at the ticklish sensation, and when his fingers hooked in the band of her stockings, and her underwear, she had to remind herself to breathe.

He pulled them down slowly, as if he were afraid to spook her. Shirayuki obliged in lifting her hips so that he could do so smoothly, watching his hands as they moved down her legs. She was keenly aware of how exposed the most intimate part of her was, and the close proximity of his face.

Zen made a point to keep his eyes focused on what his hands were doing, sensing that ogling her would make her feel embarrassed. This wasn't about what he wanted to do or look at, anyway - his only mission was to make her feel good, and he'd do everything in his power to make her as comfortable as possible. Once her stockings were down to her mid-calf, he gingerly removed her boots. One, and then the other. Her socks. One, and then the other. He worked nimbly, focusing on the motions. And then, once he'd pulled her stockings off, he looked up at her face, into her eyes, where he found something he'd never seen before: desire.

His lips met her ankle first. He lifted it to his face, pressing delicate, chaste kisses along the inside of her calf. Shirayuki was unable to tear her eyes away, watching him trail his mouth up her leg, her knee hooking over his shoulder as he leaned closer, where it trembled. When he'd made it all the way up to her inner thigh, his tongue laved across her skin in an open-mouthed kiss that elicited that perfect, musical sound from her again. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and Shirayuki gripped at the fabric of the couch during a brief pause that seemed to stretch on forever.

And then his tongue was there.

"Zen…"

It was tentative, feather-soft, and electrifying.

He lapped at her gently, his gloved hand curling around the thigh propped up on his shoulder. Shirayuki watched him, half lidded, her head spinning both from the slickness of his mouth and the occuring thought that the second prince of Clarines was here, on his knees before her. Her friend and her lover, her strength and her imminent unraveling, he was here with her after so long, in a moment so intimate and wonderful she thought she might fall to pieces at any moment.

Zen had no idea what he was doing. Or, rather, he had some idea, but found himself worrying that he wasn't doing it correctly. Her gasps and soft sounds were lovely, though, and when he allowed the full heat of his mouth to envelop her, her hips moved, arching closer. He obliged, his tongue moving languidly, his nose pressing into the wetness of her.

The longer it went on, the fewer reservations Shirayuki had about chasing the growing need she felt. One of her hands hands threaded through Zen's hair, and the drag of her nails against his scalp had him thrumming against her. The vibration drew an uninhibited moan from her, and her hand settled on the back of his skull, where she grasped for something, anything, that might aid in her release. The strokes of his tongue felt almost teasing; it'd brush against where she wanted it most, and then somewhere else, back and forth, driving her mad. It could go on for eternity.

Shirayuki sat up slightly, maneuvering her hips so that his tongue met the place she wanted, holding him there, until he looked up at her. That alone nearly had her falling apart; the picture of him between her thighs, his eyes burning hungrily, burning with desire - for her.

"Here," Shirayuki said softly, her voice trembling with desperation. She moved her hips again against his mouth, reinforcing the spot. "In the same place." Again and again and again.

Zen was intuitive. He was also a quick learner. And when she let him know what she needed so honestly, he found himself working harder. His tongue moved in time with her hips, matching the speed, the force, concentrating it exactly where'd she'd wanted. Shirayuki's eyes shut tightly as she fell back against the couch, and after a few moments, she felt him take hold of the hand that wasn't gripping his hair. She held it back tightly, a string of whines falling from her lips as a familiar pressure built inside her - one she had only ever experienced alone, until now.

He did not relent.

The feeling started where he was joined to her, and like a body of water set free by a broken dam, white-hot bliss spread out in all directions, building and building until it was all she could see, hear, or feel. She came against him, her legs trembling as the waves washed over her. He rode them out with her dutifully, not slowing or stopping until her hips stilled completely, and her hand fell away from his hair.

He pulled away from her then, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as he observed her. She lay back limply, her face flushed with exertion and lust. Her eyes were a darker shade of green than he'd ever seen them, two quiet forests after midnight - filled with secrets, and promises. Shirayuki's hand was still in his, and she squeezed it as she pulled him up to her from the floor, until she could embrace him, burying her face in his neck.

Shirayuki had always been the more collected of the two. She was good at hiding what she felt because it had always come second to her sense of duty: to the promises she made, and the future she sought. When her heart broke, it did so quietly. When her social standing left her powerless in the midst of injustice, her resilience and bravery hid the anger that drove them. And when she wanted for what she could not have, she worked harder - with a straight, determined face - so that she might some day hold it.

It inspired the same ambitions in Zen, who had less of a grasp on control. But his intense, forthright passion, his ability and his need to express what he felt the moment he felt it - it changed something in her, too. He alone was able to make a mess of her, to disarm her composure. He'd catapulted over a wall, all that time ago, right into her heart.

And it was now that he held it, along with her body, which was slack in his arms as she tried to catch her breath.

"Your heart's beating so fast," Zen said quietly, stroking her hair. He could feel it hammering against him, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the steady thump. The ability to speak hadn't yet returned to Shirayuki, who was just grateful for the coolness of his skin against her face. She didn't want to worry him, though, so she pulled away to look him in the eyes. They were inquisitive, vulnerable. How are you feeling? They seemed to ask. What are you thinking?

She answered him with a kiss, as slow and sure as the burning ember of a match.

His mouth was hot, from his ministrations, and when her tongue brushed against his lips, she could taste herself there - a fact that both embarrassed her and stirred an already present longing. She was sure, now, of what she wanted. It was apparent in the glowing aftermath of the euphoria he'd brought her to.

"Please," she whispered against his lips.

The ache of it drove him mad.

At once, he scooped her into his arms. Shirayuki was grateful for that: there was nothing about the feeling in her legs that indicated the ability to stand.

Holding her closely to his chest, Zen carried her with graceful ease to the bed. The duvet was thrown back; the sheets tangled from her earlier restlessness, and he set her down on them gingerly, leaning over her. Watching her hair sprawl over the comparably dull fabric, he finally felt the need to voice the one thought that had been plaguing him.

"Shirayuki," he started, finding it hard to concentrate when she looked at him like that. "I want this - you - but we're not married. We're not even engaged. If you were to become pregnant before I have the chance to propose, well...I…"

"You'd be reprimanded," she finished softly. Harshly. In the eyes of the court, his first child would be illegitimate at best. At worst, and most probably, it would be unclaimable. "And any chance of us being together in the future would disappear, other than the option of you taking me as your concubine." And watching him marry someone else, a highborn lady. The thought made her chest ache.

"That would never happen," Zen said, anger flashing briefly in his eyes. "That's not what I meant. I want to do it properly, for the right reasons, when the timing is perfect. But if I had to propose to you tomorrow to protect our future, I would. That's all I was going to say." He touched her cheek softly, frustration nestled between his eyebrows. What would it take for her to realize there was nothing in this world that could keep him from her?

Shirayuki took his hand, closing her eyes as she pressed it to her lips.

"I'm sorry," she murmured against his fingers. "I didn't mean to upset you."

The first time Shirayuki had thought about the subject was long ago, when the Chief had shown her how to make a contraceptive tonic during her apprenticeship. It was a standard recipe, one she'd have to prescribe. She and Zen hadn't kissed more than twice at that point - she'd had no personal need for it. But it had gotten her thinking about the future.

"When I was first stationed in Lyrias," she began, "during that initial period, when I had to adjust from seeing you nearly every day, to not seeing you at all...my thoughts ran away from me." She'd come up with all kinds of horrible what-ifs, including, but not limited to, the imagined consequences of an unplanned child should she and Zen lose themselves in the throes of passion upon their reunion. It had mostly been a product of missing him. Their actual reunion, of course, hadn't ventured anywhere near that. Still...

"I figured that it's better to be safe now than sorry later. I started taking a tonic regularly about a year ago. One that prevents pregnancy." She found it did other things too, like make her time of the month easier, and help with fatigue. But she'd started it for one reason. This reason, here, now. "I wasn't sure there'd be a need for it, but if there was even a chance...I wanted to protect our future, too." She was in no rush to have children, even if she were to get married tomorrow. There was so much she wanted to do first.

"You really are amazing," Zen said, drawing her from her reverie. "Of course you'd have the foresight to be prepared for this - I don't know why I even assumed otherwise." His face had softened again, wonder dancing in his eyes, amusement lacing his tone. No matter how well he thought he knew her, she never stopped surprising him. It was one of the many, many captivating things about her. And from where he watched her, beneath him, as she smiled with a radiance that would make the sleeping sun jealous, that's exactly how she looked: captivating.

He leaned down to her ear, his voice a soft caress.

"I love you." So much.

Shirayuki touched the side of his neck, those wonderful words resonating in her head over, and over, and over as he pulled back once more.

"I want this," she whispered. Her eyes didn't leave his for a second as she echoed him. "You."

Zen smiled, mischief glinting in his eyes as he sat up, pulling her along. "Then I think we're both a bit overdressed."

They undressed slowly, their shaking fingers disallowing them from moving as quickly as their bodies might have desired. Zen's full formal garb, especially, was a bit complicated, with all the buckles and the buttons, and the layers - Shirayuki had never envied the responsibilities of nobility and royals, but the extent of their formal dress made her glad that she didn't yet hold a high title.

She'd helped him with the clasps, but he'd needed to stand to kick off his boots and draw his shirts over his head, blushing furiously all the while. She could only watch him, as skin after inch of skin was revealed to her. She'd seen him without his shirts one time, long ago, and it wasn't like she hadn't been attracted to him then - but when she was treating an injury, she was all business. Even when she'd finished tending to him, she'd had the good manners not to stare as he redressed. Those were lost on her now, as he turned to face her, his shirts falling to the floor.

Zen's title had never frightened or intimidated her. Shirayuki suspected it had something to do with the fact that she'd seen the person he was before she knew the rank he held, and his insistence that those close to him drop all formalities. He was kind, and fair, and honest. He stood for justice, and laid his very life on the line to protect his people. A prince was who Zen was, in every meaning of the word, in title and in heart. She loved him for it through and through. Still, watching his royal clothes fall away, it dawned on her that this part of him was only for her. In this moment, he was her prince alone.

And a beautiful prince he was. Her eyes dragged over the slender muscle of him as he kneeled back onto the bed, the product of constant training. Drawn to the contours of his stomach, the fair, unmarred expanse of skin across his chest - and the lean sinew of his arms, as he reached out toward her. His finger found the underside of her chin, barely applying pressure, urging her gaze upwards, where his eyes waited half-lidded. He kissed her reverently, that gentle affection moving between them as he lowered her slowly to the pillow.

Shirayuki's dress was a little bit simpler. Even so, he found himself fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons, his usual dexterity lost in his nervousness. Shirayuki waited patiently, holding back a giggle she didn't want him to construe as her laughing at him. It was a mix of excitement, and anticipation, and - well, his struggling was kind of cute. But at last he'd undone the last one, and as the hem of her dress came over her head, her laughter was swallowed by the realization that they were skin to skin.

"You're staring," she whispered, flustered.

"So were you," Zen answered, his eyes moving over her shamelessly, drinking her in, trying to memorize the lines. The curve of her waist to her hips, the dip below her ribcage, where the flat plain of her stomach began. The soft valley between her breasts, where his mouth was drawn first, his tongue running over the rising curve. Shirayuki stifled a noise, one Zen had wanted to hear, and he traced his fingers down the side of her body in a touch so featherlight it had her writhing.

He trailed his kissing up her neck, his leg moving between hers, creating space. She took the opportunity to touch him in turn, her cold fingertips moving over his abs, his chest, leaving prickling trails over his skin as she explored. And when her hands ran up over his back, she pulled him close, desperate for contact, desperate for the burning. She nearly cried out when he pulled away from her again, but it was only so that he could undo the button of his pants. He returned to her as they hit the floor, forgotten. Forgotten like their troubles, like the world outside their ragged breaths and where they were joined, so close, but not close enough. Never close enough. The night moved around them, cocooning them in starlit silence, so that all they could hear were their wildly beating hearts.

-.-

"Zen!" He jolted awake as someone shook his shoulder, turning over and lurching in panic as he tried to remember where he was and when he'd fallen asleep. A second later, he was falling, grasping desperately at the air before he hit the ground with a sound thud. Pain reverberated through the shoulder he'd landed on, throbbing dully as his disorientation subsided. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was white: sheets, he realized, tangled around his naked body.

The second thing was red.

"Oh! I'm sorry! Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Maybe he'd died - died, and gone to heaven. That had to be it. How else could he explain the angel looking down at him? She clutched sheets to her naked chest, but her silhouette was clear as day against the thin, white gossamer as light filtered through behind her. Dust danced in the yellow-golden beams that illuminated the frame of her ethereally beautiful, panicked face - and the brilliant hair that fell around it. It was morning light, he realized. The color of sunrise.

It was morning.

And his angel was Shirayuki, whom he'd accidentally fallen asleep with after they'd made love.

They'd made love.

"Did you hit your head?"

Actually, it was his shoulder that was sore, but he couldn't feel anything except the welling happiness in his chest.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Zen said sleepily, sitting up to face her. "What time is it?"

"It's half past six!" Shirayuki's face had softened in relief, but panic set in again quickly. Most of the castle staff was already bustling, preparing for the day ahead. Zen knew it was unlikely that either Mitsuhide or Kiki were up and about yet, but they'd be waking soon. He'd have to meet them at breakfast, and see them off for their breaks. Which meant he'd have to sneak back to his chambers now. Quickly, before anyone caught on to the fact that he hadn't returned there last night.

As hurriedly as he could while the spell of sleep subsided, Zen scrambled for his clothes. Damn those complicated, intricate clothes. Dressing was made even more difficult by the pain in his shoulder, and his wincing didn't go unnoticed.

"Your arm is hurt."

"No, it's fine." Zen looked back at Shirayuki sheepishly, his shirts barely pulled over his forearms.

The look she gave him told him that that wasn't the right answer.

Shirayuki climbed off the bed, wrapping herself up in the covers, and Zen could only watch them trail behind her in awe as she walked over to him. Lines criss-crossed her arms, the side of her face - sheet imprints, he realized. There was something so primitively enticing about them, about the rawness of her in the morning. It was beauty so simple and honest he couldn't believe that he stood witness to it. Goosebumps rose where her fingers softly touched.

"If it hurts to move, it's not fine," Shirayuki said. "What kind of pain is it? I don't see anything that indicates bruising, but that doesn't mean— "

He cut her off with a kiss. A long, deep kiss that left her a little dizzy as he pulled away.

"I promise to get it officially checked out at the pharmacy after breakfast," he said softly. "An excuse for me to see your face again as soon as possible."

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, pressing a kiss to her reddening cheek.

-.-

Mercifully, Zen had only passed a few lone maids as he snuck back to his wing. It was rare for him to roam the castle at this hour, but he hadn't felt any lingering stares. He was sure, as he closed the door to his room softly behind him, that he'd never felt such relief in his life.

"You're running a bit late, Master."

Zen nearly jumped out of his skin. There, slouched in the doorway of the balcony, was the one person he'd been worried about seeing. Arms crossed, his face was the picture of nonchalance — but those calculating eyes of his were full of something Zen couldn't name, and he swore he saw his lips quirk up at the corner.

"It's early," Zen said defensively. "What are you doing in here, Obi?"

"Well, someone had to cover for you during your late-night rendezvous with the young miss. Wouldn't want anyone peeking in and seeing you missing, or worse — your bed unslept in altogether. Maids talk, y'know." Obi straightened, pushing off the doorway to face his master, whose mouth hung agape. "I was starting to worry that you wouldn't make it back before someone noticed, but here you are."

Zen wouldn't bother asking how Obi knew he'd been with Shirayuki. Obi could be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, like a black cat in the night. It was both a valuable skill and an absolute nuisance. Regardless, a strange affection flared in his chest for his friend.

"I won't ask what you were doing," Obi said, even though his smug demeanor betrayed what he was guessing. "But you may want to change into something less rumpled before you run on down to breakfast." With that, he turned toward the balcony, poised to bound off.

"Obi."

Obi paused, peering back.

Zen ran a hand through his hair. "I don't plan on hiding any aspect of my relationship with Shirayuki from Mitsuhide and Kiki, but this isn't the right time for them to hear about it." He could see Mitsuhide choking on his food after one of Obi's sly comments. He'd acted irresponsibly, though aside from risking Shirayuki's reputation by not ensuring his timely return to his room, he wasn't at all sorry for it. He knew as his friends, they would understand, that they'd support them, but as his aides — they'd fret. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry about him and Shirayuki during their time off. Besides, he wanted to keep this between Shirayuki and himself (and Obi, as he was reminded), at least for now. So much of their time apart and together was spent with or on others - they had only stolen moments alone, and he kept them close to his heart. He wanted to hold onto this feeling, this joy. The memories from last night flooded back to him upon that realization, and his cheeks filled with color.

Obi smiled that knowing smile of his, turning his gaze back towards the waiting day. "You're the master, Master. I'm not obligated to answer to anyone but you."

And then he was gone.

-.-

"Shirayuki's glowing today! Her time away must have really refreshed her!"

Shirayuki had run into the gatekeepers in a corridor on their way to the Poet Gate, and though their chat had been brief, Kai hadn't stopped gushing about the young pharmacists' return.

"She does seem to be in a particularly cheerful mood," Shiira relented, already dreading the next several hours of his partner's drabbling.

Kai's smile took up his whole face. "It's been ages since she's been at the palace! I'm glad she's back, even if it's only for a while. I'll have to ask her more about Lyrias when I see her next."

"His Highness Zen seems happier, too," Shiira noted.

"As far as I know, they hadn't seen each other in quite a while. I'll bet that has a lot to do with it. I wonder if they've gotten the chance to hang out alone yet!"

"That's none of our business."

"Still, it's romantic! A reunion between lovers is the most beautiful thing in the world."

"Are you speaking from experience?" Kai fell silent at that, and Shiira breathed a sigh of relief at the peace and quiet. Then he started counting.

It ended at second twenty-two.

"She really is glowing, though."

"You already said that."

a/n: thank you so much for reading! it took me a good few days to write this long-winded piece, but i'm really happy with it.

leave me a review if you feel so inclined, and let me know what your favorite part was! mine was the mitsuhide flashback hehehehe. also zen's walk of shame. also goddess!shirayuki in the morning, bc she's definitely ans' #iwokeuplikethis character.