Chapter Text
O~o~O
“They just won't shut up,” he muttered by way of explanation, then promptly slumped into the nearest chair.
Charlotte blinked at her intruder, too stunned to be self conscious at the state of herself or her quarters. The rest of the manor, luckily, was quiet and had not come raging with the news of a man breaking in. She should expect a Captain of a magic knight squad to be more than capable of such flawless infiltration, in any case.
A deep breath to calm herself. “Using your dark arts to sneak around, I see. Yami.” Charlotte kept her voice level as she closed her door, though she kept a worried eye on him as she moved to clear her space a little from her nighttime routine of blankets and tea and a good book.
He didn’t need to see her latest frilly romance novel about a dark mysterious misfit guy becoming soft for a strong and independent Princess. Though, he didn’t seem to see much of anything.
He didn't even answer her. Instead, he rested against her armchair as if it were the only thing keeping him from sinking to the floor. His eyes stared in a dead haze at the floor. An unlit cigarette balanced in his mouth, like he'd forgotten to light it.
Going still, Charlotte observed him for a moment. Her room was dark, with only the pale light of the waxing gibbous moon illuminating her space through her large window. It occurred to her that she should be mortified that he was in her private quarters at all, vulnerable as she was in her night robe. An unfortunate series of memories of constantly embarrassing herself or literally fleeing at the sight of him nagged at her thoughts as they often did when she struggled to sleep, but she couldn’t bring herself to spiral into them again. Not when the stillness of the night held her in such a drowsy calm after such a treacherous war. And not when he was like this.
That war must have really done him in. She assumed that his pride had been perhaps a little scraped up from the way things played out, as any real warrior would feel the same. And just the absurd scale of violence. It had affected all of them, the abject uncertainty and terror for what would become of their squads and of their kingdom.
The memory of him laying motionless on the ground flickered in her mind. Charlotte closed her eyes and willed the thought away. Her heart still felt scarred by the sight, and she had been spending much of her time determined to not think about it.
It had only been a few days since their victorious return. The entire Clover Kingdom rejoiced and partied all day and all night since it seemed, and many Magic Knights were no exception even with the wounded still in recovery. The Black Bulls, she knew, were a rowdy bunch who could probably party indefinitely if they really wanted to, and Yami often encouraged or actively led the effort. Though, what she saw slouching in her room was not a man who had been partying too much and indulging in their hard earned victory, but rather a sleepless shell of the Captain who sought refuge outside of his squad or the rest of his usual haunts.
Refuge. With her. Blinking and trying to breathe through the heat that rose up to her face, Charlotte took a step closer to him.
“Yami.” She expected some of his snark, any kind of reaction, but he kept still like she hadn’t said anything. The worry grew within her like dark clouds. She took another step. “Yami?”
She recognized that faraway look in his face. So faraway that he didn’t react even when she was inches away, looking down at him. A prospect that would have horrified and thrilled her before. Luckily, some mystical, soothing quality of the late hour kept her steady. Things had changed for her after the war, too.
Finally, when she knelt down to try to look at him, he shifted his overcast gaze just to avoid her eyes.
Resting a delicate hand on his knee, Charlotte sought his eyes anyway. “Yami,” she compelled gently. “Look at me.”
He did not move again for a moment. Something soft inside of her kept her patient and considerate for his energy, which he didn’t seem to have a lot of. Finally, he shifted. Angling his head down, he rubbed his face with his hands. She listened to the scrape of stubble on skin. The thick fabric of his canvas pants shifted under his elbows, and he let out a long, weary sigh.
Then, with just the slightest apprehension, he looked at her. “‘m sorry, Prickly Princess.” He mumbled around his cigarette. “Didn't mean to bug you at this hour. I can go.” His steely eyes finally regained their focus and he made to stand.
Charlotte gripped his forearm, preventing him from moving. “Easy. You look a little worse for wear.” She maintained his gaze, somehow, even when she was literally touching him of her own volition more than she ever had in all the years they had served together. A quiet thought at the back of her mind reflected on how cool his skin was. Probably from running around at night toward the Blue Rose manor instead of sleeping.
Chuckling, Yami shifted under her hold. “Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel special.” When she didn’t relent, or apologize or maybe even panic like he probably expected, he changed his approach. “Don't tell me you're worried about me or anything. You know I'm a big boy, right?”
Something about his demeanor felt delayed. His quips were so quick, but where he usually had an edge as sharp as his sword, his words seemed somehow duller.
“You broke into my room,” Charlotte spoke flatly, raising her brow, “looking like you haven't slept in weeks. I should be worried.”
Yami scoffed with humor. “I knocked, and you opened the door. That's not breaking in.” he said, conveniently ignoring that while she had, he didn’t wait to be invited in before unceremoniously dumping himself in the chair he occupied. “Anyway, as if I could be doing much sleeping at the hideout with the Black Bulls doing what they're doing.” He ended with a grumble, which she wasn't sure was sincerely directed at his squad.
That haze came over his eyes again. Charlotte frowned as he relaxed under her grip and seemed to unwittingly sink into the chair. “Why did you come here?” she chose to ask, carefully.
“Wound up here by accident. Obviously.” Yami smarted off, his words not matching the tired way he rubbed his face again. “Look, just tell me to buzz off and I'll leave you alone.”
So he wouldn't give her a straight answer. Charlotte tried to suppress the urge to smile and grimace all at once as fell back to his usual antics. She had a feeling that she knew the answer anyway, or at least the crux of it. Or maybe she was just letting her silly little romantic hopes get the better of her. Either way, at the end of the day, he was a fellow warrior. More than that, he was a friend to her. He seemed to be struggling with a weight that drew heavily inside him, and perhaps he came to her for some relief. She could see uncertainty coiling inside him. The way his shoulders wound taut, the way one knee bounced. Ready to haul himself back out the door at her word.
She wanted to tease him back, say that Yami Sukehiro was not known for accidents, but she could see he didn’t need to beat around the bush as much as he insisted on it.
So she would be straightforward where he couldn't. “Relax. You're here now, you might as well stay.” She pretended not to hear the way his breath caught, and she conveniently didn’t notice the way his entire body lost some of its tension as if he were cut from a marionette string.
An extraordinary impulse welled up within her, a softness usually only reserved for her daydreams about him. She managed to put on a stern face as she looked him over for any sign of overt injury that he might be quietly dealing with. Though, she did not find anything new other than the haggard demeanor of a man who didn’t know how to ask for help when he needed it.
How ironic. He had come to the aid of so many others, and had even taught her that very lesson; that no soldier could stand alone. Yet he couldn't find the words he so eloquently seemed to give to others for his own sake.
How the tables have turned. She smiled, meeting his eyes, and reached up to pluck the unlit cigarette from his lips. “It’s okay to rely on others,” she echoed his words from all those years ago, the words that stole her heart. “Captain.”
He blinked at her, but the flash of surprise in his face faded quickly. “Hey,” he protested, as if he were really getting any use out of the cigarette.
For someone who could see through others so easily, he didn't seem to know what to do when it was him being seen through. He seemed caught in one of her briar traps even despite the cool, calm atmosphere of her room. She looked him over. The dark circles beneath his eyes, the tension in his brow. The faint apprehension in his face; this clearly wasn't what he was expecting, if he had been expecting anything.
“You need to relax,” Charlotte finally decided. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be kneeling on the floor in front of Yami Sukehiro, the subject of her raging crush, she reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. His chin and jaw felt rough with stubble on her skin. His eyes widened the tiniest fraction. Somehow, her heart beating out of her chest didn’t cause her to panic or even waver. It was hard to think too much about her own feelings when he was clearly in need of an ally in some internal battle he was fighting.
Being so close to him, she could hear his every breath. The faint smell of cigarette smoke clung to his clothes, along with something else. A different, masculine scent along with a faded cologne. His face was cool against her palm, which further confirmed her theory that he wasn’t acting like this due to a condition or injury.
“You think I'm sick or something?” Yami asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Charlotte evaluated his face. Though he tried to sound aloof, she detected just the slightest amount of wariness. “No. I think you stink. You need a bath,” she rose to her feet. He didn't really stink, but a bath would hopefully help clear his mind and make it easier for him to rest.
Her comment had just the right amount of sarcasm in it that he snorted. Whatever guard he had been halfheartedly trying to build up inside stood down for the time being. “Sheesh, you’re prickly as ever. You trying to hurt my feelings?” he accepted her hand to help him stand, and he pulled a little harder than she expected. Luckily, she was able to stand her ground until he stood on his own.
He lingered for a moment, the tension in his face having softened just a little when he looked at her. Perhaps he could see through her seeing through him. Or maybe she was thinking about it all too much.
She didn't know, but she did notice his delay in letting go of her hand.
“The washroom is over here. There is a bath you can run in there with hot water, so take your time, I suppose. You can leave your clothes just outside here and I will clean them for you.” She opened the door for him, gesturing inside. The elegant blue and green tile suited the theme of the manor almost too well, and the light fixtures and other decorations were perhaps a little elaborate. It was strange to imagine an unruly man like Yami in such a dainty room, but this was what she had to offer him.
“Oh, man,” Yami let out, easing himself past Charlotte. “You guys get private bathrooms like this? With hot water? Man, I need to cash in some favors with Julius or something. This just ain't fair.”
Charlotte blinked, not realizing or ever particularly imagining what sort of bathroom situation the Black Bulls might have. “Ah, well. Apologies.” She cleared her throat.
Yami turned. “Hm? Oh, no, nothing against you. This is nice.” He went to touch his mouth, only to miss and fumble with his hand. Charlotte realized he was probably trying to take a drag out of a cigarette that wasn’t there on impulse. “Well, thanks. You, uh, don’t have to go to all the trouble. I—”
“Don't be ridiculous,” Charlotte interrupted him. “You offered me a kindness before that I can never repay. This is the least I can do. Besides, I'm sure you would offer your space to me if I came to you.”
She stopped, and Yami blinked. She swallowed hard. That might have been a little more blunt than was necessary since he was still pretending he didn’t come here for any kind of help. And she had never been able to actually mention or even thank him for the kindness he had done by undoing her curse all that time ago, so he probably didn’t even know what she was talking about.
“Okay,” he said eventually, and they stared at each other.
The bath was simple enough to figure out, and he wasn’t that stupid, so she was sure he wasn’t just waiting on her to walk him through how to use faucets.
She waited, and he still stared.
Charlotte pursed her lips. Maybe he did need help using the faucets after all?
He crossed his arms with that careful regard. “You waiting to watch me undress or what?” He had a hint of that leery smile he usually had when he teased her, and nodded toward the door.
“What?” Charlotte blinked, and realized her hand had been tightly gripping the doorknob the whole time. Heat rushed to her face. “N—no, of course not! Don't get the wrong idea!” She slammed the door shut so hard that the whole room rattled, and covered her face when she could hear him laughing.
Stupid man. She was trying to be nice to him. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to remember the whole point of her offer.
Yami had shown up at her door, in some kind of condition, pretending nothing was wrong. Perhaps she wouldn't get him to be clear about what was going on. She suspected he may not even be capable of articulating it on his own. But he had sought her out, and she happened to have some serious stakes in how he was doing. In fact, she was invested nearly beyond her means with the way her squad members tried to identify his schedule or provide any sort of updates on what he was up to before all the nonsense with Spade. Even after, her Blue Rose Knights remained somehow more motivated than ever to get Charlotte in on Yami's time.
Anyway, it mattered to her how he was feeling. He may not have been heavy on getting into his feelings, but she hoped her understanding of him was adequate enough to help get him through whatever he was dealing with.
The washroom door opened up behind her, just a crack, and Charlotte turned just as it shut again with a quiet click. His clothes sat on the floor, folded neater than she would have expected from him, along with his gear. She waited until she heard the faucet start running before moving to scoop up his things. The thought that he was naked behind the door made her cheeks burn, but she tried not to dwell on it. She would not compromise him even in her thoughts. His current condition necessarily supplanted her silly feelings about him.
Still. She allowed herself to relish the trust he somehow had in her. When she picked up his clothes, his scent wafted towards her. Smoke, sweat, and that slight cologne. But also that indescribable masculine fragrance that must belong to him alone. She moved his boots by the door.
As for his gear, she made sure to pick up his grimoire and katana with reverence, and place them delicately on a table. Surprised as she was that he didn’t bathe with them in reach as she might have expected, she couldn’t help the warmth growing in her chest from being able to touch his belongings. Such integral tools to him and his magic. And such confidence he placed in her to keep them safe.
She looked back at the door, listening to the water run, and hoped he took his time to relax.
He ended up taking close to an hour. Charlotte thought about knocking on the door and telling him he could take longer if he wanted to, but she could already hear the water draining and his movements so it would be a hassle to get settled all over again anyway. Besides, he must need sleep.
After checking her tea pot to see it was still warm, she settled back in her seat. “Your clothes are by the door,” she called out when she heard him stop.
The door opened and shut again after a moment. “Thanks,” Yami said, his voice muffled through the wall.
She waited at a table by her window, glancing back down to her book. The paragraph she'd been trying to read and hadn't been able to focus on for the past several minutes. She would normally have one of the errand boys take care of any laundry, but Yami's clothes clearly did not belong to her and she couldn’t have anyone in the manor trying to guess what was happening. Besides, it was late. All her subordinates slept. And she was the one taking care of him after all, so it wasn't such a hassle for her to do a little laundry herself.
Somehow, it hardly felt like a chore at all to her. Such menial tasks never meant anything in particular to her. She ordinarily didn't have to do them herself anyway, but it seemed the notion of her going out of her way for Yami, being able to take care of him and his things, and especially the goal of him being clean, rested, and comfortable with his fresh clothes made her chest feel all warm inside.
She bit the inside of her cheek. So her feelings for him were as strong as ever, it seemed.
When she heard him fiddle with the door handle, she abruptly brought her book back up to pretend like she had been reading instead of listening for his every move.
He lumbered out of the washroom with a long sigh, running his hand through his damp hair. His olive skin had a soft flush from the warmth of the bath, but his eyes still seemed dull. He met her eyes with his usual stoic demeanor, but seeing him standing there in his clothes and socks, without his gear, gave the faintest impression of him being meek.
Vulnerable. Far from the powerful presentation of any self respecting Magic Knight Captain who knew their position and the fragility of the public trust well. And yet there he was, before her, alone with her in her quarters.
She supposed she wasn’t much different in her nightclothes. Charlotte swallowed hard.
The silence yawned and stretched between them, kept relaxed by the cool night. Yami scanned the room before he looked at her again.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Charlotte cut in. “There’s tea,” she said, gesturing to the pot on the table. “It will help you sleep.”
Yami frowned. “Sleep?”
She wanted to roll her eyes. Either he was still pretending he showed up for no reason, or he had entirely forgotten about stumbling through her door. Whichever one it was, she had accepted responsibility for his wellbeing, and her heart would not allow him to deny her care now. “Yes, sleep. Here,” she stood up to pour the soothing, mild blend of tea before bringing him the cup and saucer. The tea had been a gift from Dorothy from some time back, who seemed to have a keen sense that Charlotte struggled to sleep sometimes. Perhaps it could aid Yami now.
He accepted, raising his eyebrows, but before he could look at her again, she had whipped around to pretend to adjust her bedding.
“You can rest here. It’s the best I can do. I will stay here in order to mitigate suspicion and keep watch, or so to speak. No one will know you're here.” She smoothed down her quilts and glanced briefly at him over her shoulder before looking away. “You can relax.”
With one last pat to the bed to indicate where he should go, she turned to get her book and blanket from the table and whirled back around to the other side of the bed, where she sat as close to the edge as possible and opened her story again to pretend her crush wasn't standing in her room and staring at her.
It wasn’t like she was going to sit in an armchair all night. Besides, it might be necessary for her to stay close to him. She couldn’t think of a specific reason why off the top of her head, but she was sure one existed.
Yami took a thoughtful sip of his tea, and turned his head to look out the window for a while. The view of her garden. The moonlight streamed down on her briars, making the blue roses appear to glow.
“This is weird,” he finally said, his voice lacking his usual brash attitude.
Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. She clenched her book tighter. “What's weird?” she asked, noticing that his eyes flickered abruptly towards her and praying he didn't pick up on her thinly veiled anxiety.
That stoic expression, she couldn't read him even a little bit as he stared her down. “You're being nice to me.” He approached the bed, and took another sip of his tea before setting the porcelain cup down on the nightstand with a soft click. “You're too prickly for that. So what gives?”
He crossed his arms, and Charlotte immediately felt the impulse to scold sharpening up within her. But she bit her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she managed to extract herself from under his gaze and turn back to her book. “While I admit I have not always been the most friendly, we Captains must be able to look to one another for support. It's no different than keeping watch for a collaborative mission.” She turned a page even though she hadn't processed a word. “We're comrades.”
Though she couldn't see him directly, she sensed his eyes move away from her and watched him shift in her peripheral vision. “Comrades, huh?” he asked, moving closer. Taking his time to settle. If she didn’t know any better, she'd say he was hesitating. “So, if that braid-face or hard-nose were to show up, you'd let them stay here too? Have a cute little sleepover? Seems very generous,” he snickered.
Just what was he implying? Charlotte felt heat and pressure rise to her face, the anger boiling in her chest. The nerve!
Before she could find any words to articulate just how much of a jerk he was to say something like that, he sighed again, and moved in a little closer to the bed. “Nah, their collars are too stiff for that. Can you imagine? They actually got their shit together, anyway.”
The silent implication hung over Charlotte's head, and she stared with wide eyes down at the page of her book while the bed shifted and sank slightly as Yami got settled. He moved a little awkwardly, conscious of her space, and it gave her the slightest impression of a clumsy bear. The bed was rather large and there was no real risk of him crossing the space unless he tried to. She realized she was not expected to respond; he was mostly talking to himself.
Was he actually acknowledging that he might not be doing fine?
“So, comrade,” he arranged himself until he lay on his side, supporting his head with his arm. He looked at her book with mild interest. “What're you reading?”
Even with the large bed keeping a respectable distance between them, that didn't exactly negate that she was basically sharing a bed with Yami and this notion was very destabilizing for her brain. Just what exactly was her plan? Her pretense of keeping watch wasn't exactly going to hold up if she couldn't keep it together. “A book,” she sputtered out, and sensed he was about to tease her again, so she quickly spoke over him. “It's some kind of fairy tale. You know how it goes, a plain princess is rescued by a misfit hero, and they live happily ever after.”
She shut her eyes tightly, waiting for the derision, but then reminded herself to have some damn backbone. She didn’t have to take judgement from any man. Not even Yami.
When she turned her head, she only found Yami nodding his head faintly. His expression had that haze from before, but softer. His body seemed to sink into the mattress. Exhaustion catching up to him. Maybe Dorothy had put some of her dreamy magic in that tea. “Huh. Yeah. Fairy tales are nice. They reflect what kinda ideals are in the minds of people. Like a Clover Kingdom subconscious.” He looked over the page she was on, reading it over. “Usually like you said, happily ever after type of thing. It's different where I'm from. Those are all dark and emotional. But I like the Clover ones.” His voice came slower, drowsy.
Charlotte blinked. “You like fairytales?” Then she added “You can read?”
“Ha, don’t you know I’m such a cuddly and sentimental guy?” Yami snorted, and shook his head. “When I washed up here, I didn’t know a word of the language. I had some help learning. It was hard, but reading fairytales helped because the stories are pretty straightforward. So I read a lot of them which helped with my grammar and stuff like that.”
Cringing to herself, Charlotte realized she was being insensitive by implying he couldn’t read. She knew Yami was not originally from Clover, but didn’t know the details and had never considered what that would actually mean for his arrival to the Clover Kingdom. In any case, the comment didn’t seem to faze him at all. It was almost like her jab invited a more genuine response from him. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard him talk about himself that readily. His words left her reeling in her head, wondering if it was the late hour that made him so open, yet feebly wishing it was her presence that did it.
“I see,” she finally said, looking over the page. She must have been at the part where the hero has a tender encounter with the princess after all the action. “I never thought of it that way. That fairy tales are reflective of the Clover conscience. I just always thought of them as idealistic stories to escape into.” Her hand passed over the page.
Yami had closed his eyes, but he nodded to show he was listening. “Mm-hm. They’re a reflection of ideals in the culture here, but not necessarily reality. That’s why they make almost too much sense. But it is a nice escape. A world where evil is obvious and anyone can be a hero. Where belonging and love is easy to find. It’s nice to fantasize.” He shifted with a grunt to lay his head on the pillow, tucking his arm underneath. His voice gradually devolved into a mumble despite the weirdly deep analysis he laid out.
Where belonging and love is easy to find? Charlotte almost choked. Was he just speaking generally, or was he trying to say he was looking for those things?
This frustrating oaf of a man!
He let out a long, slow breath, finally starting to fade out into sleep. “I smell like flowers ‘n stuff now. It’s nice,” he muttered. “I guess your thorns aren’t so sharp all the time. So thanks. It means a lot.”
Charlotte looked down at him with wide eyes. His breathing lengthened. She watched his broad chest expand and contract, the last of the tension seeping out of his frame. He hadn’t even bothered getting under the covers; he just laid down on his side facing her. And he was already dead to the world. She wondered if he could always fall asleep that fast, or if it was a consequence of whatever had been keeping him up.
“Of course, Yami.” she murmured, a pang of tenderness pushing her to reach out to him. To brush through his dark hair, offer a soothing touch to his shoulder, anything. But she hesitated. Her touch probably meant nothing to him. Probably never would mean anything to him. Probably would bother him, actually. So she kept her hands to herself and glared morosely down at her book.
The next page was about the misfit hero saying something sincere to the princess, who offered him a welcoming embrace. Soft reassurance and acceptance with ethereal grace and kindness. She presented him with a truth of her own, and offered him a kiss.
With a bitter sigh, Charlotte closed the book and tried to put aside the soft fantasies such a gentle scenario put into her head.
She knew full well they would find her in her dreams anyway.
Good thing she was keeping watch and they couldn’t torment her while Yami was present.
O~o~O