SaiMono WIP: First Frost
I missed the deadline for this one, and I still need to write the ending, let it sit, then edit it all over again, but it'll be a good exercise in forcing me to NOT USE humour as my usual crutch. *forcing self to write something somewhat serious, and maybe over-melodramatic and sentimental, but not full of my usual bizarrery.*
TITLE: First Frost
AUTHOR: beyondthemoor
RATING: Very light T
GENRE: Gen/Romance
WARNINGS: A bit OOC, sorry! And uninspired. But I’m forcing myself to write about different things, so this is just practice. Still needs a lot of work.
AU/CANON: Canon-ish, no set spot in timeline
PAIRINGS: Shuurei x Seiran
WORD COUNT: 2000 words (approx)
SUMMARY: One of the most telling changes of season is the first frost. Everyone needs to light the fires and pull their blankets tighter, snuggling into their warmth. And, when available, their bedfellows. (Follow-up to "Raking Leaves")
NOTES: Concrit is appreciated!
First Frost
The way she tied her hair back had barely changed from when she was a child, he notices as they put away the dishes from their breakfast meal. Her clothes are similar, too, and reminiscent of those her mother used to wear. But still… not exactly the same.
Underneath those flowing garments, the part that’s inside her, he knows she’s different, changed - and not just because she now wears his discarded clothes regularly to guard against the chill.
Over the past few days, Seiran has found himself looking at his Ojou-sama more often, more intently than before. Quick glances stolen while they prepared meals together; a more thoughtful smile while he answers her questions before she turns back to her shopping, not realizing he is still watching her; their goodnights and good mornings lingering where before they were brief and simple.
Whatever it was about her, it captivated him, and he couldn’t ignore the fascination for more than a few seconds before something about her would resurface in his mind, reeling him in again like a hungry fish on a lure.
And he wonders if it has anything to do with the last battle he was in, the one that took place just as he and the rest of the soldiers were returning to the capitol city’s border, that’s got him looking at her so. It wasn’t that it was a difficult or brutal encounter, it didn’t stand out in his mind for the fierceness of its combatants, but it had served as a reminder that he was mortal; that he could be felled just like any other; and that… his line would end with him.
So many of his fellow soldiers had girlfriends, wives, children. They would live on beyond their time if something-heaven forbid-were to happen to them while on tour of duty.
But not him.
And while this had never concerned or bothered him before, in truth, he’d hardly thought of it, for some reason, now… now it did.
Watching Shuurei putter around (their) family kitchen, assisting her with maintaining (their) family home, shopping with her, doing all the things husbands normally did with their wives, and yet… he was not her husband, she was not his wife.
And trying to change that would mean acting selfishly.
He was never selfish.
Her happiness was all he worked for.
His own… his own happiness was found in hers, and in his brother’s happiness and success.
For so long, he’d been so deliberate in ensuring he would have no children, no outstanding contribution to any society beyond his devotion to the Kou family; making sure that, if his background as Prince Seien were discovered, there would be nothing that could be used as leverage to place him back on the throne over his youngest brother; doing everything he could to protect and bolster his youngest sibling so he’d have every opportunity to succeed without feeling threatened or rushed. To give Ryuuki the time he needed to become his own person, become the Emperor he wanted to be, the man he wanted to be, without constantly looking over his shoulder or second-guessing himself wondering if he was about to be challenged for his position.
As Seiran had arrived within the gates upon his return to the city, his colleagues had been swarmed by family, laughing and cheering children, loving embraces from wives and sisters.
And he’d walked through it all on his way, unconcerned no one had come to welcome him.
Now, though, as he watches Shuurei finish rinsing the serving plate and hand it to him to dry and put away, he wonders if he could ask her to wait for him next time. Welcome him at the gates.
Embrace him with her warm, loving arms.
Deep in his thoughts, Seiran missed his Ojou-sama’s curious looks that morning.
Little did he know, Shuurei had noticed his stares, had wanted to go welcome him home from the gates, and her hands occasionally trembled when she thought of clasping them behind him and tucking her head into his shoulder.
When they parted to go their separate ways that day, she to bury herself in Kouchou-neesan’s bookkeeping, he to a tavern nearby to assist with some repairs to the roof, each sighed for different and yet the same reasons.
The memories kept at him as he worked that day on the wind-blown roof, tearing off old cracked tiles and replacing them levelly with smooth new ones.
“Seiran, what are you reading?” she’d asked him when she was still a very young child. She’d climbed up onto the warm kang in his room where he read by candle light, tucked herself into his lap with his arms around her, and proceeded to interrogate him on his story as if its plot were of the utmost importance to her, simply because he was the one reading it.
Several years later on another bitter wintry night, she’d fallen asleep against his side as she’d stitched her embroidery, again on the soporific comfort of the kang and under the blanket he’d wrapped around her shoulders.
A few years later still, she’d studied late into the night in his company on the raised sleeping platform, preparing for her next tutoring session while he brought in tea to share, never interrupting her with words, only showing support by refilling her tea when she’d absently hold her shining porcelain teacup out. The tea had remained warm on the tiled surface of the kang, nestled within a make-shift cozy of tea towels on his blankets.
She’d never hesitated in his company because she’d always trusted him.
How could he risk that trust over something so selfish as asking for more than the companionship they currently shared?
That night, as it had the last several weeks, the darkness of night fell sooner and sooner than the previous day, and he packed up his tools and made his way to Kouchou’s establishment to collect his Ojou-sama before returning home together.
By the time the pair arrived home, the temperature had dropped severely; and they found, upon entering their home, that Shouka-dono had not returned yet either.
“He was supposed to have come back this afternoon!” wailed Shuurei as she rushed forward to light the stove and heat the kitchen, while Seiran set about the lanterns. The chill in the air promised frost that night, and the house should not have sat cold through the full day; any water would freeze and cause cracking, and it would take hours to warm the rooms by fire…
“If Ojou-sama can manage the kitchen and meal, she can leave the outdoor chores to me,” Seiran suggested. He hadn’t taken off his outer clothes yet, and still needed to return his tools and things to their maintenance building. The water-well was that way, he’d make sure the bucket was pulled up out of the water in case it did freeze over that night. The few animals they kept would need to be brought into the small shed, and the baskets of vegetables would need to be collected from the storehouse and brought to the main kitchen to keep them from freezing… The mental list was already formulating as he accepted his Ojou-sama’s nod and struck out for the rear courtyard.
Exhausted, Shuurei bent down over the stove in her room to light the fire that would warm the kang and her blankets.
Or she tried to - but found it was stuck fast.
“Come on,” she grunted, planting her feet and yanking on the handle. It wouldn’t budge. She put her hand to the side and nearly yelped when it came back frigidly cold. It was probably frozen shut from the condensation moisture inside due to the rain they’d had a day earlier.
Glaring at it balefully a moment longer, she released the stove handle and huffed up onto the kang to bury herself under her blankets.
She’d be fine for one night. It wasn’t as if she’d freeze to death in her own room…
Seiran startled awake, his dominant arm already reaching for his sword as his eyes searched the dark room. By the time his hand closed around its scabbard, however, he had picked up on the pale face peeking through the doorway into his room.
“Seiran?” she called cautiously. She’d learned long ago not to sneak up on Seiran at night the way she used to as a child. Now she held her distance out of respect.
“Ojou-sama? What’s wrong?”
She shuffled a bit, tucking her hands into her sleeves and rubbing her cold, red nose. “Do you have any more spare clothes or blankets?”
“I’ll check; come warm up on the kang while I look,” he said, pulling the covers back.
“Ah thank you so much!”
He barely heard her muffled appreciation as she zipped across the icy floor and burrowed down into his toasty blankets beside him. He had to wait a moment to smoothe his easy, amused grin before he lit the lamp. Some things hadn’t changed much at all…
It didn’t take him long to gather up a few spare blankets and thick trousers, including a woolen sleeping shift she could borrow for the night.
However, he hadn’t anticipated her being so difficult to wake.
“Mmmm…” she mumbled, followed by drowsy ramblings when he touched her shoulder.
“Ojou-sama,” he prodded her again, shaking her more roughly. “It’s time to go back. Ojou-sama…”
“Kang’s broken,” she yawned, arching her back as she shifted under his blankets finally, reaching out for him to stay his hand. “Stayin’ here… warm…” With that she settled again with a soft breath, clutching his sleeve to her cheek.
With a sigh, Seiran rocked back on his heels and looked at her, her dark hair tangled around her face, dimly limned from the candle lamplight. She took long, steady breaths, obviously more asleep than awake, and before he knew it he’d reached out a calloused, long-fingered hand to smoothe the hair away from her warm cheeks, smiling at her.
“I’ll go sleep in your room, you rest here,” he said finally, tucking the lock of hair behind her ear. She gave no indication she’d heard him, and slumbered on.
With a low bow over her and gentle tug he pulled his nightshirt from her grasp, steadying himself with a hand flat on the twisted sheet by her head, his face inches from hers.
His eyes were drawn to her partially open mouth and the soft breath that came and went.
Soundlessly he watched her, the dim light filtering past him to outline her profile, the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips.
The beautiful young woman in his bed still didn’t stir when he slid away, to her room to sleep that night, after adoring her with a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Seiran… Seiran… It’s morning…”
It was Shuurei’s turn to
Still to add:
- Wake up/Seiran tousled; he is surprised, shocked before he remembers he’s in Shuurei’s room; his spare blankets & quilts on top of him
- Shuurei wakes him, teases him
- Share very small lingering look / love light
- Shouka outside door when Seiran wakes / leaves
- Icy look behind usual impassive expression
- Things had changed
TITLE: First Frost
AUTHOR: beyondthemoor
RATING: Very light T
GENRE: Gen/Romance
WARNINGS: A bit OOC, sorry! And uninspired. But I’m forcing myself to write about different things, so this is just practice. Still needs a lot of work.
AU/CANON: Canon-ish, no set spot in timeline
PAIRINGS: Shuurei x Seiran
WORD COUNT: 2000 words (approx)
SUMMARY: One of the most telling changes of season is the first frost. Everyone needs to light the fires and pull their blankets tighter, snuggling into their warmth. And, when available, their bedfellows. (Follow-up to "Raking Leaves")
NOTES: Concrit is appreciated!
First Frost
The way she tied her hair back had barely changed from when she was a child, he notices as they put away the dishes from their breakfast meal. Her clothes are similar, too, and reminiscent of those her mother used to wear. But still… not exactly the same.
Underneath those flowing garments, the part that’s inside her, he knows she’s different, changed - and not just because she now wears his discarded clothes regularly to guard against the chill.
Over the past few days, Seiran has found himself looking at his Ojou-sama more often, more intently than before. Quick glances stolen while they prepared meals together; a more thoughtful smile while he answers her questions before she turns back to her shopping, not realizing he is still watching her; their goodnights and good mornings lingering where before they were brief and simple.
Whatever it was about her, it captivated him, and he couldn’t ignore the fascination for more than a few seconds before something about her would resurface in his mind, reeling him in again like a hungry fish on a lure.
And he wonders if it has anything to do with the last battle he was in, the one that took place just as he and the rest of the soldiers were returning to the capitol city’s border, that’s got him looking at her so. It wasn’t that it was a difficult or brutal encounter, it didn’t stand out in his mind for the fierceness of its combatants, but it had served as a reminder that he was mortal; that he could be felled just like any other; and that… his line would end with him.
So many of his fellow soldiers had girlfriends, wives, children. They would live on beyond their time if something-heaven forbid-were to happen to them while on tour of duty.
But not him.
And while this had never concerned or bothered him before, in truth, he’d hardly thought of it, for some reason, now… now it did.
Watching Shuurei putter around (their) family kitchen, assisting her with maintaining (their) family home, shopping with her, doing all the things husbands normally did with their wives, and yet… he was not her husband, she was not his wife.
And trying to change that would mean acting selfishly.
He was never selfish.
Her happiness was all he worked for.
His own… his own happiness was found in hers, and in his brother’s happiness and success.
For so long, he’d been so deliberate in ensuring he would have no children, no outstanding contribution to any society beyond his devotion to the Kou family; making sure that, if his background as Prince Seien were discovered, there would be nothing that could be used as leverage to place him back on the throne over his youngest brother; doing everything he could to protect and bolster his youngest sibling so he’d have every opportunity to succeed without feeling threatened or rushed. To give Ryuuki the time he needed to become his own person, become the Emperor he wanted to be, the man he wanted to be, without constantly looking over his shoulder or second-guessing himself wondering if he was about to be challenged for his position.
As Seiran had arrived within the gates upon his return to the city, his colleagues had been swarmed by family, laughing and cheering children, loving embraces from wives and sisters.
And he’d walked through it all on his way, unconcerned no one had come to welcome him.
Now, though, as he watches Shuurei finish rinsing the serving plate and hand it to him to dry and put away, he wonders if he could ask her to wait for him next time. Welcome him at the gates.
Embrace him with her warm, loving arms.
Deep in his thoughts, Seiran missed his Ojou-sama’s curious looks that morning.
Little did he know, Shuurei had noticed his stares, had wanted to go welcome him home from the gates, and her hands occasionally trembled when she thought of clasping them behind him and tucking her head into his shoulder.
When they parted to go their separate ways that day, she to bury herself in Kouchou-neesan’s bookkeeping, he to a tavern nearby to assist with some repairs to the roof, each sighed for different and yet the same reasons.
The memories kept at him as he worked that day on the wind-blown roof, tearing off old cracked tiles and replacing them levelly with smooth new ones.
“Seiran, what are you reading?” she’d asked him when she was still a very young child. She’d climbed up onto the warm kang in his room where he read by candle light, tucked herself into his lap with his arms around her, and proceeded to interrogate him on his story as if its plot were of the utmost importance to her, simply because he was the one reading it.
Several years later on another bitter wintry night, she’d fallen asleep against his side as she’d stitched her embroidery, again on the soporific comfort of the kang and under the blanket he’d wrapped around her shoulders.
A few years later still, she’d studied late into the night in his company on the raised sleeping platform, preparing for her next tutoring session while he brought in tea to share, never interrupting her with words, only showing support by refilling her tea when she’d absently hold her shining porcelain teacup out. The tea had remained warm on the tiled surface of the kang, nestled within a make-shift cozy of tea towels on his blankets.
She’d never hesitated in his company because she’d always trusted him.
How could he risk that trust over something so selfish as asking for more than the companionship they currently shared?
That night, as it had the last several weeks, the darkness of night fell sooner and sooner than the previous day, and he packed up his tools and made his way to Kouchou’s establishment to collect his Ojou-sama before returning home together.
By the time the pair arrived home, the temperature had dropped severely; and they found, upon entering their home, that Shouka-dono had not returned yet either.
“He was supposed to have come back this afternoon!” wailed Shuurei as she rushed forward to light the stove and heat the kitchen, while Seiran set about the lanterns. The chill in the air promised frost that night, and the house should not have sat cold through the full day; any water would freeze and cause cracking, and it would take hours to warm the rooms by fire…
“If Ojou-sama can manage the kitchen and meal, she can leave the outdoor chores to me,” Seiran suggested. He hadn’t taken off his outer clothes yet, and still needed to return his tools and things to their maintenance building. The water-well was that way, he’d make sure the bucket was pulled up out of the water in case it did freeze over that night. The few animals they kept would need to be brought into the small shed, and the baskets of vegetables would need to be collected from the storehouse and brought to the main kitchen to keep them from freezing… The mental list was already formulating as he accepted his Ojou-sama’s nod and struck out for the rear courtyard.
Exhausted, Shuurei bent down over the stove in her room to light the fire that would warm the kang and her blankets.
Or she tried to - but found it was stuck fast.
“Come on,” she grunted, planting her feet and yanking on the handle. It wouldn’t budge. She put her hand to the side and nearly yelped when it came back frigidly cold. It was probably frozen shut from the condensation moisture inside due to the rain they’d had a day earlier.
Glaring at it balefully a moment longer, she released the stove handle and huffed up onto the kang to bury herself under her blankets.
She’d be fine for one night. It wasn’t as if she’d freeze to death in her own room…
Seiran startled awake, his dominant arm already reaching for his sword as his eyes searched the dark room. By the time his hand closed around its scabbard, however, he had picked up on the pale face peeking through the doorway into his room.
“Seiran?” she called cautiously. She’d learned long ago not to sneak up on Seiran at night the way she used to as a child. Now she held her distance out of respect.
“Ojou-sama? What’s wrong?”
She shuffled a bit, tucking her hands into her sleeves and rubbing her cold, red nose. “Do you have any more spare clothes or blankets?”
“I’ll check; come warm up on the kang while I look,” he said, pulling the covers back.
“Ah thank you so much!”
He barely heard her muffled appreciation as she zipped across the icy floor and burrowed down into his toasty blankets beside him. He had to wait a moment to smoothe his easy, amused grin before he lit the lamp. Some things hadn’t changed much at all…
It didn’t take him long to gather up a few spare blankets and thick trousers, including a woolen sleeping shift she could borrow for the night.
However, he hadn’t anticipated her being so difficult to wake.
“Mmmm…” she mumbled, followed by drowsy ramblings when he touched her shoulder.
“Ojou-sama,” he prodded her again, shaking her more roughly. “It’s time to go back. Ojou-sama…”
“Kang’s broken,” she yawned, arching her back as she shifted under his blankets finally, reaching out for him to stay his hand. “Stayin’ here… warm…” With that she settled again with a soft breath, clutching his sleeve to her cheek.
With a sigh, Seiran rocked back on his heels and looked at her, her dark hair tangled around her face, dimly limned from the candle lamplight. She took long, steady breaths, obviously more asleep than awake, and before he knew it he’d reached out a calloused, long-fingered hand to smoothe the hair away from her warm cheeks, smiling at her.
“I’ll go sleep in your room, you rest here,” he said finally, tucking the lock of hair behind her ear. She gave no indication she’d heard him, and slumbered on.
With a low bow over her and gentle tug he pulled his nightshirt from her grasp, steadying himself with a hand flat on the twisted sheet by her head, his face inches from hers.
His eyes were drawn to her partially open mouth and the soft breath that came and went.
Soundlessly he watched her, the dim light filtering past him to outline her profile, the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips.
The beautiful young woman in his bed still didn’t stir when he slid away, to her room to sleep that night, after adoring her with a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Seiran… Seiran… It’s morning…”
It was Shuurei’s turn to
Still to add:
- Wake up/Seiran tousled; he is surprised, shocked before he remembers he’s in Shuurei’s room; his spare blankets & quilts on top of him
- Shuurei wakes him, teases him
- Share very small lingering look / love light
- Shouka outside door when Seiran wakes / leaves
- Icy look behind usual impassive expression
- Things had changed