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The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.
-
It is in the dead of winter when Kamisato Ayaka meets Kujou Sara, and yet Ayaka finds that there is nothing colder than the General’s gaze, as they reach the gates.
Despite that, her austere, serious demeanor never wavers even as she shivers in her thick fur coat. Ayaka pities her, knowing that the harsh winters of the north are cold, even for the poor General - who will be remaining in the Kamisato estate in the harsh snow to survey the land in a fortnight’s time as her father had agreed upon with Her Grace.
“Please make yourself at home,” Ayato says as warmly as he can when General Kujou steps into the foyer, the servants coming with a new set of clothes more fit for the winters of the north and going with the sparse luggage she brought with her, as well as her leather boots wet with melted snow.
Sara nods at both of them, and Ayaka is struck with how handsome the general is up close. It’s not always the first thing people say about her — always her prowess in the military — and yet Ayaka has read many poems written by lovestruck maidens who wished to marry the handsome and honorable Kujou Sara.
When Sara opens the door for her to her own room as Ayaka shows her the way, thanking her and saying: “a lovely home you have, Miss Kamisato,” warm and firm — Ayaka empathizes, understands the maidens swooning, writing sonnets for her.
She doesn’t see much of General Kujou after that; Ayaka busies herself with the upcoming solstice festival, and Sara has the land survey task that she carries out with Ayato - always awake when dawn begins and asleep when Ayaka is done with her work.
(Ayaka tries not to think about how Ayato, a known recluse should he be left to his own devices, is spending more time with the general than Ayaka who wished to see more people.
“What’s she like?” She presses Ayato, and sometimes even Thoma - who is no stranger when it comes to their expeditions - during the times they are lounging about in the drawing room to fulfill their duties or kill time.
Ayato pulls a face, sipping from his tea. “Quiet, not very different from the General you have come to know,” he says, and while Ayaka believes her brother, she knows there’s definitely more to Kujou Sara than the general would like to let on if that moment in front of her room was something to hang on to.)
Once in a while, she catches Sara tending to her steed - a tall, majestic beast that listens to no one but her, much to the dismay of the Kamisato servants, Thoma’s especially.
Ayaka watches from her window, too shy to approach her, but instead she appreciates the gentle expression on the General’s face as she grooms her steed in relatively thinner clothing as the frigid winds of the worst of the winter subside.
The winter solstice ball comes around, and Ayaka would be lying if she said she didn’t look forward to it all year; she loves the festivities, the merriment, seeing everyone dressed up in lovely white and blue clothing - and yet her father pulling her aside, murmuring of at least keeping an eye out for potential suitors.
Right.
Ayato had proposed to a lovely lady of the northeastern plains, whom he will be marrying in the spring. It would be her turn, then, to be married off to whoever would be beneficial to the Kamisato family.
Ayaka looks around at possible suitors, and despite everyone being nicely dressed, dancing around the foyer and mingling with each other, no one truly captures her attention. Perhaps she would have to be married to someone she barely thought interesting -
“My lady,” a voice behind her says, and Ayaka knows that voice, knows the way her body reacts to it immediately.
“General Kujou,” Ayaka says, curtseying, as Sara gives her a low bow, and -
Amidst the bodies dressed in white and light blue, Kujou Sara is dressed in midnight blue; her cravat a light cream, her sash decorated with gold and silver medals a deep, plush red. The tassels on her shoulders highlight the delicious width of her shoulders that confirm hearsay that the General enjoys archery in her spare time.
Ayaka must be staring, because General Kujou has always been so pleasing to the eyes, however Sara misunderstands her appreciative and stunned stare when she blushes and looks away. “Apologies,” she says, gesturing to the clothes she wears. “I was not informed about the dress code.”
She, however, is quick to assure her despite the flames of her cheeks. “Ah, no need to apologize, General,” she says, waving her off. “You look very dashing.”
A cough leaves Sara and Ayaka only realizes what she’s said when it’s too late. “T-thank you,” Sara says stiffly, but she is as red as her sash. “Is my lady enjoying the night’s festivities?”
“Absolutely,” she says, delighted. “I must admit it’s my favorite time of the year, despite being tasked so with eyeing a suitable partner.”
Sara’s eyes soften with sympathy. “I apologize, marriage is quite the ordeal, no? I’m not the best company, but… if you would prefer it—”
“Yes,” Ayaka says, too quickly, as she spares a glance to the dancing bodies behind them. A few curious glances are thrown their way, but Ayaka pays them no mind. “Yes, I would like that.”
Sara seems to let out a relieved breath. “I was not so sure if I could approach you so freely, your dedication to your work is remarkable, and I did not think I could disturb you.”
She hides behind her fan. Oh, General Kujou is so gentle and polite. “Anytime you grace us with your presence is barely a disturbance, far from it,” she tells her. Sara’s expression is slightly open, a little chip in the armor of ice Ayaka had seen before. “That being said, would my lord like to join the crowd for a little dancing?”
The music has settled around them, to a quieter, andante stringed song.
“I would not like to embarrass my lady with my two left feet,” she chuckles shyly, and yet despite that, Ayaka waits for her to offer her gloved hand and is not disappointed when Sara does, despite the redness of her cheeks. “But if you would be so kind as to guide me.”
Her own gloved one reaches out to take it, to be led to the dance floor, and before she can even dare to guide Sara in a slow dance, there are hands on her shoulders that pull her away.
“If you could excuse us, General,” her father says politely, already whisking her away. Ayaka doesn’t have to be told that she will be paraded around potential suitors for the rest of night.
“Of course, Lord Kamisato,” Sara says, and perhaps Ayaka had spent too long studying her face to see the disappointed line her mouth is set in. It’s not a harsh expression, but one of being chastised, as if she had been caught with her hand in a jar of sweets that were taken away immediately. “Enjoy the evening, the two of you.”
“Likewise,” is all Ayaka can say, before she sets off, and it takes much of her willpower not to pout.
Lord Hiroto is a talkative man, and while he is comparatively pleasant company than tonight’s candidates, Ayaka can’t help but be distracted, following the midnight blue color of Sara’s uniform as she flits from one place to another like a bird in a cage.
Then when the grandfather clock makes itself known on the 24th hour, Sara disappears into her room as she always does, and Ayaka puts on her best smile as she daydreams about what a dance with the honorable Kujou Sara could have been like.
-
Yours is the name the leaves chatter
at the edge of the unrabbited woods.
-
The wedding was splendid, and Ayaka did not expect any less. The cathedral is lit by the mid-morning light, as the doves fly above them; feathers and petals rain from the sky, it must seem, and her eyes trail from the ceiling, down to the attendees, and finds General Kujou Sara watching her intently.
It’s not unwelcome by any means, far from it, and all Ayaka can do is to give her a nod and a smile, which Sara returns curtly.
“It seems as if our ice prince is melting for you,” Thoma teases, elbowing her goodnaturedly. “Whatever did you do, Miss Kamisato?”
“Oh shush, you,” Ayaka tells him, tapping his shoulder with his fan. Ayato and Eiko exit the chapel in a flurry of white, and Ayaka follows them after a moment.
“I was not aware my lady was gifted in falconry,” a voice comes from behind her, and Ayaka turns her attention from the hawk perched on her gauntlet to see Sara, and Lady Sangonomiya - a shrewd young scholar who had been behind many of General Kujou’s strategy, and whom Ayaka has been previously acquainted with, if only recently and briefly.
“Ah yes, in my spare time I do like to indulge.” Ayaka says, walking forward and moving her arm to allow Castor to spread his wings and soar. “How about you?”
“Sometimes,” Sara says, shrugging, but Kokomi chuckles behind her gloved hand.
“You mean ‘you disappear for hours on end to spend time with your precious hawk, Artemis’, don’t you?”
Sara clears her throat, ignoring the scholar, who only laughs. Ayaka knows they are quite close, due to their work and family ties. “I did not come here to be embarrassed, but to bid Lady Kamisato a farewell.”
Ayaka cannot help but feel disappointment settle in her stomach. She and Sara had only recently been spending time together, with tea in the middle of the beautiful spring day, or days walking around the grounds of the estate. “So soon, my lord?”
If anything, Sara looks as disappointed as she feels - and even her stony expression cannot hide it. “Unfortunately, but there is business my family needs to attend to,” she bows at Ayaka. “Though I cannot forget your hospitality and your kindness; I wanted to come and thank you personally.”
Ayaka curtsies right back. “You are most welcome to come back, Lord Kujou,” she says politely, then, softly. “Will… will I see you again?”
Kokomi answers for Sara, who is red in the face. “Yes, she will. Her business here is not yet done,” she leans into Ayaka to whisper conspiratorially, and in jest. “I came to pick her up, and will have her right back on your doorstep the moment we no longer need her.”
Sara raises a brow, looking chastened and severely teased. “You did no such thing. You did not come to pick me up,” then she turns to Ayaka, only for her eyes to follow Castor as she lands on Ayaka’s gauntlet. “But yes, I will see you again. Perhaps in the summer.”
The summer… Ayaka nods and tries not to think about the months in between.
“So long as you promise to do this with me the next time you’re here.”
Sara smiles at her, truly smiles at her, for the first time, and Ayaka feels her heart trip over herself. “It will be the first thing I will do once I step foot in the Kamisato estate. That I promise you.”
-
I am unable to understand the sun your dizzy spells
when you form a hand around me on the sand
I offer you my terrible sanity
the eternal voice that keeps me from reaching you
-
“Do I strike you as someone who breaks my promises?” Sara murmurs, as she dotes on Pollux, who is immediately taken with Sara. Ayaka understands why; anyone would, when Sara had settled her steed, she sought Ayaka to hawk together, still in the clothes she wore traversing the lands between them.
Pollux soars, and so does Castor. Sara watches as they fly together, and Ayaka can only stare at the way her coat and hair sway in the mild summer breeze.
“No, my lord,” she murmurs, and she’s sure no one else should have heard it, but Sara hears anyway.
Sara nods, pleased. “Good.”
“Lord Kujou?” Ayaka calls out, as she pushes the door to the stables open. The master told her he’d seen Sara around. “Hello?”
Hmm. Perhaps she’d left.
Before Ayaka can leave, a lone horse whinnies, seemingly calling for her. Squinting her eyes, she can see its black body and black mane, tall stature.
Could it be Sara’s steed? He seems well behaved, nothing like how Thoma talks about him, and makes no movement except to yawn and lick its lips as Ayaka approaches.
“You’re so lovely,” she coos, stroking his muzzle, and he turns his head to her hands. “Oh, hello. Good afternoon to you too.”
The door opens to reveal Sara, holding a bucket and a brush, appearing mildly panicked. “Ayaka, are you alright?” She says, her voice moderated yet concerned, striding to where they were. The horse’s tail swings freely behind them, most likely at the sight of his owner. “Has he hurt you?”
“No, he’s been very sweet,” is what Ayaka tells her, still stroking his mane, and Sara watches them like it is the most rare sight on earth. “I find it hard to imagine this is the stallion giving our staff a hard time.”
Sara stands beside her, following the soothing motions of caressing his crest. “Bucephalus… the infantry stable wanted to put him down for being difficult years ago, but I insisted to keep him and care for him,” she murmurs, and only then Ayaka realizes Sara is in a loose shirt, somewhat held together at the front by black laces, tucked into high, riding pants.
So dashing, unbelievably so, telling her such things; and she doesn’t even know it , so Ayaka opts to focus on her task, willing herself to not swoon here in the stable among all places.
“Well, he’s a lovely little thing, aren’t you?” She whispers to the steed. “You must like your Greek history, Lord Kujou.”
Sara laughs, ducking her head shyly. “Yes, upon Kokomi’s insistence - or rather, her threat, that I should at least pick up a book then and now.”
Ayaka laughs. She can imagine Lady Sangonomiya instilling fear in Sara, who is at least a head and a half taller than she.
“I’ve never seen him react this way,” murmurs Sara thoughtfully.
She can’t help but feel pleased, flattered; the blush on her own cheeks could surely tell. “I wonder what that could possibly mean.”
Ayaka misses the thoughtful, open look that Sara gives her. “I wonder, as well.”
Any willpower Ayaka had to not swoon is woefully torn down when Sara whisks her away on the steed to a secluded area in the estate, overlooking the plains that turn golden in the summer afternoon.
(Admittedly, it had been Ayaka’s fault, suggesting a picnic. She, however, washes her hands of any fault when it comes to being hoisted up to the steed, Sara’s warm body against her as they rode off to the place Ayaka had suggested.
Once again, Ayaka sympathizes with the maidens who write poems for Kujou Sara, hoping one day she would sweep them off their feet the way she is with Ayaka now, and without knowing she’s doing it.)
“I’ve never seen anything quite like this before, my lady,” Sara says, awe taking over her usual stony demeanor, as they see the way the fields below them sway with the breeze, painted gold by the summer sun. It’s Ayaka’s favorite sight.
She’s seen it perhaps a million times and then some, so Ayaka watches Sara instead, the way the wind blows against her hair and her loose, casual clothes. Her amber eyes, the same shade of gold that surrounds them.
Ayaka can only keep looking, humming in agreement.
Unlike the winter Sara had spent in the Kamisato estate, she now joined the family for meals; it was mostly a pleasant affair, discussing both business and latest affairs as the strings of the family musicians played softly in the background while they ate.
Ayaka and Sara are seated across each other, sharing furtive glances here and there as they spoke, so it was easy for Ayaka to spot her expression when her father brings up a possible proposal from Lord Hiroto.
“What do you think of Lord Hiroto, Lord Kujou?” He asks, and the expression - disappointment? Wistfulness? Disgust? Ayaka doesn’t know - is washed away, schooled back to neutrality as she wipes at her mouth.
“I will be honest and say that we are not on particularly good terms,” Sara admits, folding her napkin neatly. “I have not spoken with him when he had threatened the life of my brother, before we were ranked officials. But please, do not allow my personal relations to hinder your family’s affairs.”
Before any of them can say anything, Sara stands quietly, bowing at both of them. “Please excuse me, I will retire quite early tonight. Thank you for the meal.”
“I suppose I’ll be seeing you off again,” Ayaka says, already missing Sara already; it was hard, knowing Sara has to leave, but Sara promised to visit the autumn solstice ball and to write whenever she could. Summer was cruel, that way.
“I suppose you are,” Sara says, with a small, fond smile. She smiles more these days, and Ayaka thinks it looks good on her. She looks just as handsome, if not more. “Worry not, you know I am a man of my word.”
“I suppose you are,” Ayaka echoes back, and then bid each other farewell with a curtsy and a bow.
-
Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now
how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind?
-
The leaves start to turn into a lovely shade of orange when Ayaka realizes she’s wholly and impossibly in love with Kujou Sara.
A gloved hand extends to her, and Sara - handsome, strong Sara - looks bashful as she asks Ayaka to a dance, one of which they were never able to have all those months before.
“You are not as terrible as you make yourself out to be,” Ayaka tells her, and while Sara was a little clumsy, she was not by far a bad dancer. Her heart swells at the realization that she did indeed love Sara, when the general laughs shyly as she almost bumps into Ayaka and another gentleman.
“You are too kind,” Sara laughs, crossing and turning smoothly, offering her hand to Ayaka as the music swells and then ends, and oh, how Ayaka loves her. “Thank you.”
“Lady Kamisato,” Sara begins, when the conversation lulls during their evening stroll on the grounds. The merriment continues inside, and the world goes on around them. “I had wanted to speak with you about something.”
Something pounds in Ayaka’s chest, something aching and dangerous and exhilarating like hope. “What would that be, my lord? I am all ears.”
They turn to each other, and their bodies are so close, and Sara looks so handsome in that uniform - her medals clinking against each other, but none of it matters to Ayaka except for the fact they are pressed together, warm against the chill of the autumn air, and all Ayaka wants is to be held by her, to see Sara smile, to hear her laugh at the silly little jokes they share.
Her touch feels like a flame, but it is a welcome feeling, when Sara touches her cheek. Ayaka leans into it. “I have wanted to tell you, ever since I’ve spent much time in your company since winter of last year, I—”
“Kujou,” a voice booms, shatters the moment between them, and Ayaka has heard so much of this voice to know who it is immediately. Then, more kindly, “Lady Kamisato. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
Sara pulls away, and Ayaka misses the warmth, aches for it, really.
“Lord Hiroto,” Ayaka says, clearing her voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Your father asked me to call for you,” he says, simple, proud; more directed at Sara than Ayaka.
When Ayaka turns to frown, Sara moves closer. “Go. I will be keeping my distance. If you need me, call for me.”
I always need you, but all Ayaka can do is nod before she turns the other way, ignoring the way Lord Hiroto and Sara barely even acknowledge each other after that.
-
The snow is beautiful on the ground.
And always the lights of heaven glow
Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.
-
Ayaka may not have many friends, but it does not take someone with many to know that Sara has been avoiding her. After that night of the autumn solstice ball, she had said nothing more than a quick farewell.
No missives, no letters, no visits. Ayaka is heartbroken, when all she wanted that night was to kiss Sara and tell her what she felt.
Kokomi, however, stops by on her way to a diplomatic visit to the south - and has much to say about it.
“She is an imbecile,” Kokomi says, flippantly, sipping her tea. Then, her eyes soften. Her gloved hands find Ayaka’s, holding them between hers. “Though you must trust me that after the bastard stops licking her wounds, she will come around in her own time.”
Ayaka had seen Sara’s eyes, that autumn night, and saw the same kind of love she felt within, so she opts to trust Kokomi, to trust Sara , to wait.
“Marry me, I promise to give you a good life.”
Ayaka is speechless, as she sees Hiroto lower himself to the ground on one knee, presenting her a lovely ring, one belonging to his mother he says.
She cannot help but wish it was Sara instead, kneeling before her, promising her a good life and so much more.
“I apologize, my lord,” she takes his hand, nudging it to curl into itself. “But I cannot.”
Something akin to anger flares up in his eyes. “Is this about Kujou?”
“It matters not if this is about her,” lies Ayaka, as it truly did matter that this was, indeed, about Sara, and how she longed for her to be the one promising all these lovely things to her. “I cannot and I hope that you may accept my answer.”
She walks away from Lord Hiroto, back into the Kamisato estate, and longs for Sara’s easy company.
“Ayaka,” Thoma says, as he enters the drawing-room. His eyes are lit up, and Ayaka wonders what could possibly have him like this so early in the morning. “We have a visitor.”
Then enters Kujou Sara, dressed in casual clothing, appearing a little winded as if she’d ridden all the way here as fast as she possibly could. “Lady Kamisato,” she says, her stony expression melting into a relieved and apologetic one. “I apologize for…”
“Your tardiness?” Ayaka teases, though she is filled with much consolation and joy seeing Sara again.
“Yes,” Sara laughs, moving closer, and Ayaka doesn’t know at which point Thoma had slipped out, but she’s thankful anyway. “I had some personal business to attend to, and… I wanted to—”
There is another knock on the door, hurried this time, and the brightness in Thoma’s eyes is replaced with panic. “General Kujou, Lord Hiroto wishes to… he wishes to speak with you.”
They give each other shy, apologetic smiles, before separating. “It seems we are bound to be interrupted.”
“It seems so.”
“Kujou,” Hiroto sneers, as soon as Sara makes the landing. He caused quite the commotion, gathering the staff around - Ayaka’s father, included, trying to deescalate the situation. “You’re always ruining everything for me.”
Sara looks colder than ever, just like that first time Ayaka had met her in the middle of winter. “I could not possibly know what you’re talking about.”
He looks wild, as if he hasn’t slept for days; then, he takes his glove off and throws it right in front of Sara’s boots. “I think it’s about time we settled for her hand the way we military men should, hmm?”
Commotion starts, and Ayaka feels her stomach drop. While she trusts her abilities, a duel was just as much luck as it was ability. She did not want to lose Sara; especially not this way. Sara looks at Ayaka, eyes changing - now soft, begging for permission, for her to do this for them.
While Ayaka will not be able to change her mind, she nods; perhaps this was the way of military men, one of which she will never understand.
Then Sara looks to Ayaka’s father, who nods, agreeing to bear witness for the duel. He immediately calls for a surgeon to be on the site, and anxiety flares within Ayaka as Sara removes her own gloves, and accepts the first identical weapon - a cavalry saber, and Hiroto taking the other.
Sara turns to her, gives her a nod.
Trust Sara, Kokomi had said, and Ayaka does.
“I can never understand you military men with your little duels,” Ayaka murmurs, changing Sara’s bloody bandages minutes before the lights of the candles go out.
Sara shrugs, and she winces at the action. She’s relatively unscathed, compared to Hiroto, whose life Sara spared if it meant he forfeit his proposal. “Well, it did as it was supposed to.”
“And what is that?”
Sara inhales sharply, and then breathes out; Ayaka feels her heart stop in her chest. “That I no longer compete with him for your affections, and that you no longer have to be burdened with marrying him , and marry me, instead.”
Ayaka lets go of the bandage. Her hands shake too much, and the trembling never ceases when Sara takes out the ring, a lovely, simple band with an ice-colored rock that sits atop it - which she suspects is the ‘personal business’ Sara had to attend to. “My lord…”
“I wish to have you by my side, promise you every single thing that I can, and work hard every day to make it happen,” Sara murmurs, taking Ayaka’s hands. They, too, tremble. It must be a sight to behold, seeing the eldest Kamisato daughter and General Kujou shaking the way they are. “I cannot possibly tell you the things I would give, the lengths I would take, for you to keep looking at me the… the way you do, for the rest of our lives.”
“You needn’t feel guilty if you were to reject me, after I had done what I did. I will be fine,” she chuckles, gesturing to her minor injuries. They were still visible in the candlelight. “But if you were to…”
Ayaka doesn’t let her finish her sentence, and she’ll have to apologize for interrupting her later, but she hopes this kiss is enough to tell Sara that her answer is a resounding yes—absolutely, irrevocably yes.
-
We’ll turn our faces southward, love,
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire the shafted groves
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.
-
“May I have this dance?”
Ayaka turns to Sara, dressed in her proud, midnight blue uniform, and bows lightly; a rare, besotted grin on her face as Ayaka takes her gloved hand in hers.
“You know I cannot deny you anything,” she says, pulling her in close. They had been dancing with other people at the wedding, and now it is time for their dance.
Sara, despite her insistence that she had two left feet, has done marvelously during rehearsals.
“You also would not deny me calling you ‘Mrs. Kujou’?” Sara pulls her close, sets her hands on her hands and waist, as the music begins. She is so warm, impossibly warm, so different from when they’d first met.
(She only ever smiles around you or when she thinks about you, Kokomi had written, when they had been away on a field mission months before.)
Ayaka pretends to think, then turns to kiss Sara sweetly, for the first time as her wife. “Never, my moon,” she feels the ring on Sara’s own hand, touching hers lightly. “Never.”