Chapter Text
By the time sunlight reached the window beside her bed, the kingdom had already woken up. The first thing she heard was arguing, someone was insisting they had already paid while someone else disagreed. Outside were the sounds of shuffling livestock, coarse bristles scrubbing stone steps, and the far off metallic ring of a blacksmith’s hammer.
None of that mattered to Teto.
She lay there, still asleep.
Until something struck her squarely in the face.
“Agh!” Teto bolted upright, clutching at her nose. She simply sat there, rubbing her eyes while her mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened.
A book lay innocently across her blanket.
Teto narrowed her eyes. “...I hate you.”
The book offered no defense.
Slowly, Teto looked up, breathing through the sting in her face, staring at the shelf above her bed. It was mounted slightly crooked, weighted unevenly by far too many books. Her father had said he would fix it months ago.
The wood creaked.
Teto froze and held her breath.
Another book fell over, dropping directly onto her head.
“—ow!”
Teto fell backward onto the mattress with a groan and pulled the blanket over to hide her face. The shelf remained where it was, victorious and unbothered. She would have to fix it herself if her father never could.
The morning light from her window illuminated the small room. Most of the space was occupied by books, training notes on a table, wooden practice weapons that had gradually accumulated over the years, and different board games she kept. Her father disliked clutter, Teto kept promising she would clean everything but she never found the time to.
She finished dressing and stepped into the main room.
The smell of breakfast reached her before she entered. Her father was already seated at the table, a folded letter rested beside his plate.
“Ted wrote again?” she asked as she sat down.
Her father gave a quiet hum in response.
The letter remained untouched for a few more seconds before he finally picked it up.
“‘Business is doing well,’” he read flatly, stripped of whatever enthusiasm they had originally been written with. “‘I’ve traveled farther south than expected. Tell Teto I hope her training is progressing nicely.’”
The letter was folded once more.
“At least he remembers you exist.”
Teto lowered her gaze toward her breakfast. She barely remembered her brother, only small pieces remained. A laugh, a warm hand on top of her head, and how he would style her hair. She had been very young when he left home, and frankly she did not care for him.
Her father set the letter down again, deciding not to look at it anymore.
“House Kasane was not always situated in Crypton.”
Teto looked up slightly. Her father would always repeat himself to remind her since they moved before she was born. Each time she wanted to tell him that she gets it, but she knows how it might end if she did.
“After the restructuring of noble holdings, we were granted a lesser title. But the name still carries weight where it matters.”
He stared at the letter longer than usual, then looked away as if it displeased him.
“Ted chose his path, and he represents the outcome of what happens when one forgets what our name stands for.”
Her mother, standing near the counter, didn’t turn around. She was pouring tea, slow and careful. The sound of it filling the cup cut through the quiet before she finally spoke.
“Don’t speak about him so harshly,” she said softly, without looking at either of them.
Her father ignored her. “You will not follow that same path.”
The words were not loud. They didn’t need to be.
“You will not be as disgraceful as Ted. And you will make House Kasane proud.”
Teto nodded. “Yes, father.”
Her mother finally set the tea down in front of her. “You should eat more,” she said, smoothing the edges of the conversation. “If you’re going to be a strong knight, you should take care of yourself.
Teto obeyed without comment.
—
The courtyard smelled faintly of iron and damp stone.
Morning light spilled over the castle walls in long, slanted beams, catching on the edges of drawn blades and the polished rivets of armor. The training grounds were already awake, though the rest of the castle still lingered in that quiet space of sleep. Steel rang out in sharp, measured strikes, each impact echoing against the high walls before fading into the open sky.
Teto stood at the center of it.
Her grip was steady despite the sweat beginning to gather at her palms, the leather of her gloves darkened from use. The sword felt heavier today, not in weight but in expectation. She adjusted her footing, heel pressing into the dirt as she squared herself again.
“Again.”
Her master’s voice cut cleanly through the air.
She moved before the echo finished, blade lifting, then falling in a controlled arc. It was a careful strike that prioritized form over force. The edge stopped just short of its mark.
A wooden practice blade met hers with a sharp crack.
The impact jarred up her arms, forcing her back a step. Dust shifted beneath her boots. She didn’t lose her balance, but she felt the correction in the way her master’s stance remained unchanged.
“You hesitate,” he said.
Teto tightened her grip, jaw setting. “I was measuring the distance.”
“And in that time, you would be dead.”
The courtyard seemed quieter that moment. Even the other trainees’ movements felt distant, dulled by the weight of the statement her master had given her. Her ears turned red from embarrassment, hoping no one heard any bit of it.
Teto lowered her blade just slightly, then raised it again. “One more time,” she said, determined.
This time, she stepped in faster. Steel struck wood, then slid—her angle corrected mid-swing, the motion sharper.
It still wasn’t enough.
Her master knocked her blade aside with minimal effort, the motion effortless. The tip of his practice sword stopped just at her shoulder. It was another loss.
Teto exhaled through her nose, steadying herself, though something restless flickered beneath the surface of her focus.
“...You’re thinking too much,” he said plainly, lowering his weapon. “A battlefield will not wait for you to be certain.”
She didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze dropped, just for a second, to where the shadows overlapped across the dirt.
“I don’t want to make a mistake,” she said quietly. Her grip from her sword had loosened.
Her master studied her, longer than usual. Then he stepped back, creating space between them. “You will,” he replied. “The question is whether you will keep moving after.”
Teto nodded once, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t fully ease. She reset her stance anyway, lifting the blade again as if the conversation hadn’t happened, as if repetition alone could carve certainty into her movements.
Above them, the castle loomed–-stone towers catching the growing light, banners stirring lazily in the morning breeze.
From the upper walkway, the world looked smaller.
Miku rested her hands lightly against the cool stone railing, leaning forward just enough to watch without being noticed. The height softened the sounds of the courtyard below, turning sharp clashes into distant noise.
“Your Highness, you shouldn’t linger in the open.”
The voice behind her was gentle, but firm in the way it always was.
Miku didn’t turn right away. Her attention remained fixed on the figure below, the girl with the red hair, moving again and again under the watchful eye of her instructor.
“I’m not in the open,” Miku teased. “Not really!”
Her caretaker stepped closer, the soft rustle of fabric the only sign of movement. “It’s still not proper.”
“Mm.”
Below, the clash of weapons rang out again. This time, the red-haired girl moved differently, faster, and less restrained than before. It lasted only a moment before her stance broke, her blade knocked aside with practiced ease.
Miku tilted her head slightly. “She lost again,” she murmured. There was no judgement in it. Just observation.
The caretaker followed her gaze, though her interest was less invested. “That is what training is for.”
“Not like that.”
Miku’s fingers traced against the stone lightly. “She stops,” she continued, almost to herself. “Right before she strikes.”
As if on cue, the girl below her reset her stance once more, shoulders squaring, blade rising. The sunlight caught against the edge of it, bright and fleeting. Miku watched the moment stretch, the quiet before impact.
“...What’s her name?” she asked.
Her caretaker hesitated, if only briefly. “A page in training, I believe. From a minor noble house. Kasane… Teto.”
Below, Teto moved again. This time, she didn’t hesitate.
The strike came faster and sharper—imperfect but she finally committed. When her master deflected it, the force of the impact sent a clear vibration through both blades, louder than before, echoing briefly against the courtyard walls.
It still wasn’t a win, but it was closer. Miku smiled, just slightly. “She’ll get there,” she said a little softer than she expected.
Her caretaker didn’t respond.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of iron upward, mixing with the cool air of the higher halls. Miku remained where she was a moment longer, watching as the training continued.
Eventually, she stepped back from the stone wall.
“Come,” her caretaker urged gently.
Miku nodded, but her gaze lingered just a second too long before she turned away.
Below, the sound of clashing steel continued, steady and unrelenting, long after she disappeared from view.
—
The first time they spoke, it was by accident.
Not in the courtyard, but along the narrow path that cut between the training grounds and the inner gardens. The stone there was worn down, edges softened by years of passing footsteps. The area was quieter than the rest of the castle.
One day, Teto had been dismissed early. Her arms still ached, that dull kind of soreness didn’t go away no matter how much she shook it out. She carried her sword at her side. There were faint marks along the blade where it had been struck too many times in the same place.
She was halfway down the path before she realized someone was standing ahead.
White, clean fabric. Untouched by dust. Teto immediately recognized her.
She stopped a step too late, boots scraping lightly against the stone as she caught herself.
The girl turned.
The light caught in her hair, her expression was calm and serene, eyes bright. Her robes cascaded along with the wind. She was a little taller than Teto, but she knew they were the same age. Ten years old.
It never felt that way though. The princess always seemed so out of reach, so distant, so… different.
“You’re the one from the courtyard,” she said.
Teto straightened immediately. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said, quickly. She was awestruck at the fact the princess knew her.
The princess studied her. It made Teto suddenly aware of everything she hadn’t bothered to fix. The dirt along her sleeves, the way her grip hadn’t fully relaxed around the hilt at her side.
“You improved.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Compliments after failure always felt heavier than criticism.
Teto blinked. “I…” She looked away. “Lost.”
“That’s not the same, silly.”
It wasn’t said like reassurance. It wasn’t said like she was obligated to, to make Teto feel better, to force her to keep going.
The wind shifted between them, carrying the faint scent of grass from the gardens. Somewhere farther in the castle, a bell rang, distant and slow.
The princess stepped a little closer which made Teto’s breath hitch.
“I’m Miku,” she said, like it wasn’t already obvious.
Teto hesitated, then nodded once. “...Kasane Teto.”
Saying it like that—without a rank, without anything attached to it—felt strange.
“Come, walk with me,” she said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Teto hesitated, she looked around, before falling into step behind her. She kept her posture straight out of habit.
Miku did not. She walked with an ease that made Teto feel suddenly aware of her own stiffness, like every movement she made was being weighed without judgement.
For a while they walked through paths without speaking.
“You swing like you’re afraid of breaking something,” Miku finally said.
Teto almost stopped walking. “I’m not.”
Miku tilted her head slightly, considering that.
“Mm. Not breaking something,” she corrected gently. “Maybe just… afraid of what happens after you swing.”
Teto frowned faintly, eyes forward. “Is that not the same thing?”
“It isn’t,” Miku said simply.
The answer wasn’t sharp nor did it feel like disagreement. Teto just sighed, not sure what to do with that.
“I just… want to make my family proud.”
“I think you're already doing that.” Miku said softly.
They passed beneath an archway made of the same hedges around them, shadow swallowing the path before they stepped back into light.
Miku glanced back at her, properly this time.
“How long have you been training?”
“Since I was old enough to hold a blade,” Teto said.
“That’s a long time.” Miku hummed, like she was thinking about that more than the answer itself. She didn’t push further. “You must be strong.”
She slowed slightly, then stopped near the edge of the path where the gardens began to open out further ahead.
Teto stopped as well, a half-step behind her before correcting her stance.
Miku noticed.
Teto hesitated, then spoke. “Are you training for something too, Your Highness?”
Miku blinked, then smiled—small and just a little mischievous.
“I am,” she said.
Teto perked up, interest catching immediately. “Really? What kind of training?”
“I’m training in magic.”
Teto’s eyes sparkled. The reaction slipped out before she could stop it. “You’re a mage!? That’s so cool—”
She froze halfway through the sentence, then quickly corrected herself, posture snapping straight. She cleared her throat.
“You’re a mage, Your Highness?”
Miku stared at her. Then she laughed.
It was light and unrestrained. Soon she was doubling over, clutching her stomach, her shoulders trembling with the sheer, helpless joy of it.
Teto watched, unsure if she had done something wrong.
But Miku just shook her head slightly, still smiling. “You don’t have to correct yourself every time,” she said.
Teto looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically.
Miku laughed again. “No, that wasn’t a command.”
For a second, Teto just stood there. Then awkwardly, she let out a small breath.
It wasn’t quite a laugh. But it was close enough.
—
Summer crept in, softening the grounds, threading green through the edges of stone. The chamber was quiet. Even footsteps seemed reluctant to echo. The floor was smooth stone, along one side, a table held several weapons—short blades, laid out in a neat row. Next to it was a jar of water, filled to the very brim.
Miku stood in front of them. Her instructor moved slowly across the room, hands folded behind his back.
“Magic is not something given to a few,” he said. “Everyone is born with it. A gift from the gods.”
Miku listened, her attention fixed on the weapons out for her.
“But most never learn to hold it properly.” He lifted a hand, moving it lightly through the air. “It slips. Breaks. Fades before it can take shape.” He paused near the table, resting his hand against it. “Those with stronger lineage to it tend to have an easier time.”
Miku reached for one of the blades. It fit easily in her hand.
Her instructor stepped back, giving her space. “Study that weapon, you’re going to need to replicate it with this.” He pointed over to the water jar. “You’ve already learned to sustain a note. Now you need to give it purpose and shape it into something that remains.”
Miku nodded. She drew in a breath, steady and controlled. Her shoulders stayed relaxed as she exhaled, her voice following without force. The note settled, rippling across the water. For a while, nothing changed.
Then a small bead of water lifted from the jar.
It hovered, wavering slightly, before another followed, then another. They gathered together slowly, pulling upwards as if drawn by something unseen. The shape was uneven at first, shifting and collapsing in on itself.
Miku adjusted her pitch, until the form became recognizable.
The water stretched, narrowing, lengthening into something closer to the blade she held. The edges smoothed out, the form sharpening as she held the note steady.
Near the end of her breath, it faltered. She corrected it quickly. The blade remained suspended in the air, its surface smooth, almost solid despite the way it caught the light.
“...Good,” her instructor said, stepping closer. “You maintained it long enough.”
Miku looked over her shoulder. “It stays?”
“For a time,” he replied. “Longer, if your control improves.”
Across the room, several training dummies had been set in place. Worn from repeated use, their surface was marked by cuts and punctures that overlapped each other.
“Apply it.” Her instructor clasped his hands behind his back again. “Before it collapses back.”
Miku turned back. She raised her hand slightly, her focus narrowing. The blade shifted in response, lifting higher as she guided it forward. It wavered once, then steadied, following the movement of her hand. She pushed forward.
The water blade shot ahead and struck the dummy, cutting deeper than it would have if she had thrown a normal knife.
Miku exhaled quietly, her hand lowering. The blade collapsed back into water, soaking the dummy where it had struck.
“...Not bad.”
But Miku wasn’t looking at the target anymore.
For some reason, she found herself wondering what Teto would think of it.
Teto noticed her before she reached the path. Miku stood near one of the rows of flowers, just off to the side, looking down at them. She wasn’t doing much. Just standing there, one hand lightly brushing over the petals.
Teto slowed. For a moment, she thought about turning around and going the other way. Her steps quieted as she got closer, she stopped a few feet away, not sure if she should say anything first.
Miku looked up and smiled. “You came back.”
Teto looked away. “...I walk here sometimes.”
Miku nodded, like that was enough. She crouched down, her attention returning to the flowers.
Teto glanced at them. Rows of them, all planted nearby, all looking mostly the same. Some did look prettier than others, though. “What are you doing?”
“These were planted recently,” Miku said. “They’re not fully grown yet.”
Teto stepped a little closer, careful not to get too close to the princess. “They all look the same.”
“They’re not!” Miku pointed to one, then another. “This one means gratitude. That one’s for remembrance.”
Teto frowned a little, looking between them. “They just look like normal old flowers.”
Miku smiled slightly. “That’s the point. They’re like… hidden messages!”
Teto didn’t really get it, but she nodded anyway. She crouched down a bit, resting her arms on her knees as she looked closer.
“So if you give someone one of these,” she said, “it means something?”
Miku nodded.
Teto reached out, and brushed her hand on one of the petals, like Miku had done.
They stayed there a little longer, in a comfortable silence.
After that, it became a habit. They didn’t arrange anything, it just happened. Teto would wrap up her training early, or find an excuse to leave, and Miku would already be there at the gardens—or arrive not long after.
They walked most of the time.
Miku talked about small things—lessons, things she had to memorize, things she didn’t care about but had to learn anyway because of her status. Teto listened, answering when she needed to.
When Teto talked, it was usually about training, how she’s training to become a knight. What she messed up, what she almost got right. Miku always listened and encouraged her, she never made it feel like it didn’t matter.
One afternoon, Miku stopped near the edge of the garden and didn’t keep walking.
Teto slowed beside her. “What’s wrong?”
Miku didn’t answer right away. She stepped off the path slightly, toward a small open space. “Watch,” she said.
She held her hand out slightly and took a breath. When she exhaled, her voice followed. The surface of a nearby water basin shifted. A small amount of water lifted from it, pulling upward in a thin stream before gathering together. It didn’t hold its shape at first, almost falling apart.
Miku adjusted the note and the shape steadied. It took the form of a blade, like the one she has been training to create.
Teto stared at it, wide-eyed. “That’s—”
Miku moved her hand forward. The water blade followed, shooting ahead and striking one of the nearby wooden posts before losing shape and spilling down the surface. Miku purposely didn’t make it strong enough to cut it down.
Teto took an involuntary step forward.
“You can just do that?” she asked, astonished. She wasn’t thinking about the spell itself as much as the fact that it was Miku doing it so easily.
Miku lowered her hand. “Sometimes!” She stuck her tongue out. “I wanted to show off, hehe!”
Teto laughed softly, covering her mouth shyly.
After that, the seasons seemed to move faster.
The gardens changed before either of them noticed. Flowers bloomed, wilted, and returned. The paths remained the same, but the people walking them did not.
The first few times they met, conversation had been awkward. Teto never knew what to say. Miku always seemed to.
Somewhere along the way, that stopped being true.
One afternoon, Miku arrived carrying three books pressed against her chest.
Teto stared at them. “Why do you have all of those?”
“I have an examination next week.”
Teto patted Miku’s shoulder. “Well, good luck with that then.”
Miku handed two of them over. “You’re helping.”
Teto looked down at the stack now in her arms.
“I never agreed to that.”
“You didn’t refuse.”
Before Teto could answer, Miku had already started walking.
Teto followed anyway.
By the end of the week, she knew more about royal history than she had ever wanted to.
The spring of next year came, and Miku arrived with ink on her hands.
Teto noticed immediately. “What happened?”
Miku looked down. Her fingertips were covered in ink blots. “Oh.”
“You didn’t notice?”
“I was busy.”
“With what?”
Miku took something out, a rolled up paper. She unraveled it and held it up proudly.
The drawing looked vaguely like a horse.
Very vaguely.
Teto stared at it.
Miku stared back.
“...It’s awful.”
Miku looked offended. “It took me three hours.”
“It looks like it lost a fight.” Teto tried not to laugh.
Miku spent the next several minutes attempting to defend her artistic ability.
She failed.
Winter came early the following year.
Snow settled across the gardens and buried most of the flowers beneath soft white hills. The fountain froze over. The paths became slippery.
Miku nearly fell twice, and Teto caught her both times.
“You make a terrible princess.” Teto grinned.
Miku gasped. “That is incredibly rude.”
“You almost walked into a tree.”
“I was looking at something else!”
“There was nothing there.”
Miku pouted. “Well then, you must make a terrible knight! Because there was!”
Teto rolled her eyes as Miku giggled. She found herself unable to resist the laughter as well.
She had come to realize that she laughed more when she was around her.
The years passed quietly.
Teto grew taller. Her shoulders broadened from training. The stack of training notes on her desk grew thicker every year, filled with corrections, observations, and lessons she refused to forget.
Miku changed too. She grew out of the childish roundness of her face. Her lessons became more demanding. The responsibilities waiting for her grew larger every year.
They rarely noticed the changes in themselves.
They noticed them in each other.
Teto was the first to realize Miku was still taller than her.
Miku never stopped reminding her.
Miku was the first to notice when Teto stopped looking nervous around nobles.
Teto denied it every time.
Neither of them ever won those arguments.
The gardens remained theirs. A place untouched by court politics, expectations, or strict schedules.
Just Miku.
And Teto.
One afternoon, Miku found herself checking the same corner of the garden for what felt like the tenth time.
Most of the flowers filled the air with a faint sweetness. Somewhere beyond the hedges, she could hear gardeners speaking to one another. Miku looked around again.
Nothing.
A small crease formed between her brows.
Training sometimes ran long. She knew that. Teto had mentioned it before so there was no reason to think anything of it.
The shadows of the hedges and the fountain stretched farther across the ground. It was getting late, Miku had to go inside soon.
Then finally, a flash of red appeared between the hedges.
Miku quickly looked up before she realized she was doing it.
Teto nearly tripped over the edge of the path trying to hurry over.
“Sorry!” she blurted out before she had even reached her. “Sorry, sorry, sorry—” She stopped in front of Miku, completely out of breath.
One hand went to the back of her neck, scratching it awkwardly. “My instructor kept me after training and then I got stopped by one of the quartermasters and then—” She winced. “Actually, that second part might have been my fault… I was running in the halls so I guess…”
Miku stared at her wordlessly. The sight was strangely amusing.
Teto somehow looked even more embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be late.”
“It’s fine.”
“It isn’t!” Teto insisted quickly. “I left you waiting!”
Miku glanced away, then back at her. “I suppose you did.”
The horror on Teto’s face immediately doubled.
Miku laughed. It was a sudden burst that she tried to smother behind her hand, her eyes crinkling at Teto’s sheer panic.
Teto relaxed slightly. “Well, if you’re laughing, then I’m probably not in trouble.”
“You were never in trouble.”
The uneasy feeling that had been sitting quietly in her chest all afternoon had disappeared the moment Teto arrived. The realization stayed with her longer than she would have liked.
Miku had brought a flower with her.
It was small, nothing too noticeable. She held it for a while before saying anything, turning it between her fingers like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was a pink rose, Miku had been personally growing a few in a different part of the garden.
She could hear the footsteps of someone walking near, who she knew would be Teto. She took a deep breath as the footsteps stopped. Miku held the flower out.
Teto looked at it unknowingly. “It’s beautiful. What does this one mean?”
“It’s… for admiration.”
Teto smiled, not realizing the intent of it. “Is it for me?” She took it and looked at it warmly. “Thank you.”
Miku smiled back, though it felt a little different than she expected.
The flower disappeared from sight after that.
At least, she thought it had.
A week later, Teto arrived carrying one of the books she often brought with her. They had settled beneath one of the trees, Miku reading aloud from something she found interesting while Teto listened.
When Teto opened her book, something pink peeked out from between the pages.
Miku recognized it immediately.
The rose had been carefully pressed flat. Someone had pasted it onto a small piece of paper, and a thin ribbon hung through a small hole at the bottom like a proper bookmark.
Teto followed her eyes and glanced down. “Oh.”
She slid the bookmark out and smiled with her eyes closed. “It works pretty well!”
Miku stared for a moment longer than she meant to. Something warm settled quietly in her chest, blossoming like the pink flowers she planted. She lowered her gaze to her own book, smiling like a fool, before Teto could ask why.
Teto walked briskly through an outdoor passage of the palace.
Stone pillars framed the path, holding up a roof that created a nice shade. Vines grew on some of them, twisting around. Beyond them, glimpses of the outer grounds flickered between the pillars.
The place was usually empty, so she wasn’t expecting anyone.
But when she turned the corner and saw Miku already there, walking slowly as if she had been thinking about something else entirely.
Teto brightened upon seeing her and practically ran up to her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Miku turned at the sound of her voice immediately. “Me neither!” she answered, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Where are you going?”
“I'm returning something,” Teto said.
“Oh.” Miku leaned closer, looking past Teto’s shoulder. “That way?”
“Yes.”
“I was going that way too.”
Their pace matched without effort, the sound of their steps falling into rhythm along the stone corridor. It didn’t feel unusual anymore, in fact it hadn’t for the longest time.
But today, Teto noticed it differently.
Miku spoke about something she had earlier in the day. Teto listened, but what she didn’t notice at first was how close Miku was walking.
Close enough that her arm brushed against Teto’s when she gestured.
Close enough that when she turned her head mid-sentence, she was closer than expected.
Teto’s breath caught once before she could stop it.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Miku said after a while.
“I’m not.”
Miku hummed, unconvinced.
Teto could feel her looking at her, even without turning. That alone made her face warm. She inhaled through her nose and looked ahead instead.
The corridor opened into the training courtyard, light spilling across the stone in softer tones. Miku slowed naturally as they reached it.
“...You’ve been doing that a lot recently,” Miku whispered.
Teto glanced at her. “Doing what?”
“Going quiet when I talk.”
“That’s because—”
Miku glanced at her then. Her striking, teal eyes caught the light, looking at her gently. A stray lock of her hair brushed against her cheek, drawing attention to her jaw and the gentle curve of her lips.
She could feel her ears burning warmer than it should have been. “Because…”
Teto looked away. “I should go return this now,” she said, lifting a small knife to show her.
And walked a little faster ahead.
One day, along the way, what they had became something else.
They sat at the fountain in the center of the gardens. Water trickled softly over the stone, the sound blending with the distant rustle of leaves overhead. Summer had settled comfortably across the palace grounds.
Miku had been talking for several minutes.
Something about rearranging one of the flower beds near the eastern path. She had apparently decided that the colors clashed, and had spent the better part of the afternoon explaining exactly why.
Teto had been listening.
At first.
Now she was watching her instead.
Miku always talked with her hands when she became excited about something. Her thoughts never seemed content staying inside her head. They surfaced in every smile, every gesture, every slight change in expression, making her impossible to ignore once she got started.
“...and if the orange ones were moved closer to the fountain, I think it would look much better.”
Miku looked toward her expectantly.
The sight of it made something tighten strangely in Teto’s chest. “What?”
Miku laughed. “Are you listening?”
Teto’s heart skipped. “...Maybe.”
Miku’s smile widened as she giggled. She shook her head, turning toward the fountain again.
Teto stared.
At that moment, the world felt very small.
Just the sound of water. The flowers.
And Miku sitting beside her.
Teto leaned forward before she fully realized she was moving.
The kiss was gone almost as soon as it happened.
Teto realized what she had done immediately afterward. She pulled back so quickly she nearly fell into the fountain. Her face was bright red. “S-sorry!”
The apology came out far louder than she intended.
Horror settled across her expression as her mind desperately attempted to catch up with the last few seconds.
“I’m so sorry, Your Highness!” The title slipped out from fear. “I didn’t mean—”
Miku blinked.
She simply stared at her. Then something softened, her shoulders relaxed and a warm glint was seen in her eyes. She shook her head.
“Don’t.”
Her voice was softer than usual which made Teto stop talking.
Miku’s hand found hers almost instinctively, her fingers sliding gently between Teto’s. Neither of them pulled away. Miku’s other hand gently smoothed over Teto’s cheek as she leaned in to press their lips together.
The fountain continued to flow quietly beside them.
A breeze stirred the trees and hedges.
Since then, it never really stopped. A quick kiss before they separated for the day. Hands intertwining and neither of them bothering to move away. The two of them whispering their love for each other. Miku even started bringing flowers more often now.
Teto kept every single one, staring longingly at her gifts every night.
—
The garden was quieter than usual today. The wind barely moved, the sun beating down harder than it did before. Teto arrived first this time. She didn’t have training today because her instructor was busy with something else, so she came without rushing.
She sat down on a stone bench, waiting for Miku’s arrival. She watched humming-birds pass by, hovering near flowers before flying somewhere else.
“You’re early.”
Teto looked up and gave a small wave.
Miku didn’t sit right away. Instead, she stood at the path, looking out at the rows of plants like she was thinking about something else entirely.
Teto noticed it. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Miku didn’t answer, she walked over and sat down beside her. The two of them didn’t say anything.
Eventually, Miku responded. “When we’re older,” she said, “I’m going to be married off.”
“What?”
“It’s already been decided since I was younger,” Miku continued, like she was saying something she’d already accepted. “You know I can’t be with you.”
Teto stared at her. “Who will you get married to?”
Miku looked at her hands. “Megurine Luka.”
The name didn’t mean much to Teto at first. Just another royal, probably. Someone from another kingdom.
Miku kept talking anyway, quieter now. “It’s not something I get to choose. It’s for alliances. Stability.”
Teto’s expression became downcast, though she tried to hide it. “Do you want that?”
“...No,” she said finally.
Silence followed after that.
Teto didn’t know what to do with it. It sat differently than other silences they’d had before.
Miku shifted closer without looking at her. “It won’t be for a while,” she added, like that helped.
Quieter, Teto asked, “Does she… want it?”
Miku shook her head slightly. “I don’t think so. I met her once, she doesn’t like it either.”
Teto nodded. She reached out for Miku’s hand. “Will we still—”
“Yes.” Miku answered immediately.
Teto’s eyes widened before bursting into laughter. “You didn’t even hear what I had to say!”
Miku brought her other hand up to Teto’s face, caressing it gently. “It’s pretty obvious what you were going to ask, dearest.”
The warmth of Miku’s hand lingered against her cheek. Neither of them spoke, staying in comfortable silence.
Then Teto looked at their joined hands.
“Promise me.”
“What?”
“Promise me we won’t just…” Teto hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Disappear from each other.”
The confidence she carried everywhere else seemed to vanish when it came to this.
“I know what you said. I know it won’t happen for a while.” She swallowed. “But promise me anyway.”
Something softened in Miku’s eyes. Slowly, she held out her hand. “Like this?”
Teto stared.
Miku’s pinky finger was extended.
A laugh escaped her again. “That’s for children.”
“We were children not that long ago.”
Teto couldn’t argue with that. Shaking her head, she hooked her pinky around Miku’s.
The gesture felt silly. Ridiculously small compared to the future they were talking about. Yet, somehow it mattered—at least that’s what Teto thought.
Miku beamed. “I promise.”
Teto squeezed her finger lightly. “Good.”
The two of them stayed there a while longer, pinkies linked together beneath the sun, holding onto a promise neither of them knew how to keep.
Only that they wanted to.
—
The armor felt heavier than it used to.
Teto had become a young adult, and was finally knighted. Miku celebrated her accomplishment with flowers and lots of kisses and praise. All of it made Teto blush, she really still hasn’t gotten used to it. Being beloved by the princess of Crypton. (Of course when Miku had also turned the same age, Teto basked her with all the love in the world as well, it’s just that she never knew how to react being at the receiving end!)
She adjusted the strap across her chest, the leather worn in where it had been pulled tight too many times. Smaller knives rested along it, each one secured in place. At her waist, a pouch sat against her hip, tied to a leather strap that acted like a belt. The black plating along her arms caught the light in uneven edges, angular more than smooth, with a red cape wrapped around her shoulders and trailing behind her, frayed at the ends. The helmet she wore covered her face, the visor closed, black matching with the rest of the plating.
It was night. The moon sat high, full enough to cast light across the fields. The air was cool, settling against them.
The outskirts of the Kingdom of Crypton didn’t look much different at first glance. The land stretched outward in uneven fields, patches of tall grass broken by dirt paths worn down by carts and passing feet. A treeline sat further ahead, dense and dark. No one had come this far out in days.
That’s why the knights were here. Teto stood with the others, the ground felt wrong under her boots. Tracks had been found earlier, larger than any normal wolf, deeper like something heavier had been dragging itself through the area.
No one spoke loudly. Orders moved quietly down the line, enough to be heard.
The trees moved. Not because of the wind.
A shape broke from the treeline and didn’t slow.
It was a wolf–but not exactly. Its body was too large, its claws were long and sharp, its teeth large and ferocious. It was as big as a man. The eyes were like coal, and its fur was uneven, almost bristling outward. More wolves appeared, slightly smaller than the first, all looking identical.
“Grimwolves. Hold formation.”
Teto’s hand rested on her sword. She didn’t draw it yet.
The first wolf lunged.
Steel moved all at once, the front catching the impact before it could break through. Teto stepped forward with them, drawing her blade in one motion, the familiar weight settling into her grip.
One broke off from the clash and came at her from the side.
She turned just as it closed the distance, her blade intercepting it before its jaws could reach her. The force of it hit harder than expected, pushing into her guard, claws scraping along the plating of her arm.
She shifted her footing, her blade cut along its side. It wasn’t clean enough to drop it, but enough to slow it. It twisted, snapping back toward her.
Quickly, she struck again, deeper and deeper. The wolf collapsed against the ground, its movement stopping at once. Teto didn’t watch, another had already closed in.
This one circled first, faster than the last. It waited, steps uneven.
Teto adjusted her stance, blade angled.
It moved, but she moved faster.
Her strike met it mid-step, throwing off its rhythm before it could react properly. It twisted under the impact, claws scraping against the ground as it tried to recover.
She didn’t give it time. A second strike, cleaner this time. It finally dropped.
Around her, the fight spread outward. The wolves weren’t breaking the line, but they weren’t falling easily either. They moved in bursts, testing openings.
One broke through, heading toward the rear where the formation thinned. Teto moved without thinking.
Her steps were faster now, the weight of her armor no longer something she noticed. The cape pulled behind her as she closed the distance, the wolf already about to attack someone who hasn’t turned yet.
Her blade cut across its path, stopping before the wolf could land. The impact jarred through her arm, but she pushed through, turning the motion into a follow-through that drove it back.
It tried to rise again, but her attack must’ve ended it because it didn’t try getting up again.
The remaining wolves pulled back, seeing their numbers have drastically decreased. Slipping back toward the treeline the same way they had come, fast and low.
The field went quiet.
“Hold.” The commander was heard, but Teto couldn’t tell from where he stood.
She lowered her blade slightly, her breathing muffled from behind the helmet. She glanced toward the treeline, watching for movement that didn’t come. After a moment, she wiped the blade clean with a single movement, the blood coming right off. She noticed she herself was covered in blood, which just made her sigh.
A knight approached her. “You broke formation.”
Teto nodded once. “Yes. I did.”
The knight bowed slightly. “You saved my life.. You prevented a breach. You have my gratitude.” That was all he said before moving on.
The tension eased in pieces.
A few knights let out quiet laughs, someone mentioned drinks, another answered to that, louder this time. The idea spread quickly after that. The commander said something about a tavern in the lower district, it was enough to get a few of them moving.
“I’m glad we didn’t call the mages,” someone muttered nearby. “Would’ve slowed us down more than helped.”
Teto glanced up at that. She didn’t say anything.
Her grip tightened against her side before easing again. The thought came uninvited, but Teto didn’t mind. Miku. Where she might be at this hour. Whether she was still awake.
The others had already started heading back, voiced carrying ahead of them. Teto followed after a moment, falling into step behind them.
The tavern was louder than it should have been for that hour. Warm light spilled out from hanging lanterns, catching along the edges of mugs and armor alike. The air was thick with the smell of ale and something cooked too long over the fire.
Voices overlapped, rising and falling without much structure, laughter breaking through more often now that the tension had worn off.
Teto sat among them. Her helmet was gone, set off to the side, her hair slightly out of place. Her hair in the shape of drills was messy but she decided to fix that later. The armor remained on her body, like everyone else inside.
A mug had been pushed into her hand at some point. She hadn’t taken more than a sip.
Across the table, the same knight from earlier stood, already a little unsteady and tipsy but holding himself upright well enough. He raised his mug, tapping it lightly against the wood to get attention.
“Kasane!” he called out, voice carrying throughout the tavern.
A few others turned. Teto glanced up, caught off guard.
“She broke formation,” he continued, a faint smile pulling at the edge of it, “and I’d be dead if she hadn’t!”
That got more of their attention. Someone laughed. Another raised their mug.
“To Kasane!”
The words caught on quickly, repeated, louder this time. Everyone inside began chanting her name.
Teto shook her head slightly, a small, embarrassed smile slipping through before she could stop it. “It wasn’t—”
“Don’t,” someone cut in, not unkindly. “Just accept it.”
A few mugs lifted toward her. She hesitated, then raised her own just slightly in return. “Thank you,” she said quieter than the rest. Everyone roared in applause, the moment moved on as quickly as it had come.
Conversations breaking back apart into smaller pieces. Someone started telling stories of the fight that just occurred, already changing parts to sound more heroic. Laughter followed.
Teto leaned back slightly in her seat, letting the noise settle around her instead of into her.
Her gaze drifted toward the window.
She set the mug down and grabbed her helmet. No one stopped her when she stood, most didn’t even notice, too busy drowning themselves in joy.
The door opened with a soft shift of air, the noise dulling the moment it closed behind her. Outside, it was much easier to breathe.
The walk back toward the palace was familiar. The streets had emptied, lanterns still lit along the paths but dimmer now, most of the city already settled in for the night.
The path she took curved around the side, where the walls were less watched, where she had learned where to step and where not to.
By the time she reached the outer edge of the palace, the noise of the city had fallen behind her.
Miku’s balcony wasn’t hard to find. It never was.
Teto paused just below it, glancing up once. A faint light still burned inside.
She reached up and grabbed the jagged stones, pulling herself up before grabbing onto the balcony’s stone railings. She brought herself up with as little noise as she possibly could, her armored boots landed softly against the stone.
Teto realized she probably looked like a mess, but knowing Miku, she wouldn’t mind it. She straightened herself up. She stopped just short of the doors, she reached up and tapped lightly against the glass.
Nothing happened until she could see movement, a shadow crossed the light, pausing before drawing closer. The curtains opened and Teto could see Miku on the other side.
Her hair was undone, not in her usual twintails, falling looser than it usually did during the day. The sleeves of her night gown rolled just enough to keep them from getting in the way. She opened the door and closed it behind her.
“You’re back.”
Teto nodded, a little too eagerly. Realizing that, she looked away.
Miku stepped forward and closed the distance between them without hesitation, her hands coming up to rest against Teto’s armor, then higher, brushing along where metal met skin.
“It’s kind of late,” she said quietly.
Teto let out a small breath. “The rest wanted to go celebrate.”
Miku’s gaze moved over her, slower now. The armor. The marks along it, the blood stained on the edges.
“You’re hurt?” Miku asked, worry painted all over her face.
“No.”
“Liar.” Miku said tugging at Teto’s cape that draped over her.
Teto shook her head slightly. “It’s not mine, dear.”
Miku paused at that, her fingers stilling where they rested. Then she exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders just enough. “Good!”
Her hand lifted again, this time more carefully, brushing along teto’s cheek. Teto leaned into it without thinking. “I hope you weren’t too reckless out there.”
“You sound like my instructor.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
The night air moved between them, the breeze nice and cool. Miku glanced past her briefly toward the distant lights then back again. “They’ll notice if you’re gone for too long.”
“They didn’t notice when I left.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t.”
Teto shrugged slightly. “Then I’ll be faster next time.”
Miku gave her a look at that, but it didn’t last. “You came straight here,” she said quietly.
Teto didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
Miku gave a soft sigh. “You always do that.” There wasn’t any real frustration in it.
“Do you not like it?” She asked.
Miku fidgeted with her hands. “I worry. I worry that you’ll get caught.”
That settled between them. Teto’s expression changed slightly, something less certain than before. “I’ll be fine.”
Miku’s hand caught Teto’s wrist, she held it there, like she didn’t want to let go just yet. “Just don’t make it too much of a habit.”
Teto smiled gently, the moon’s light reflecting off her eyes. “No promises.”
Miku laughed softly. “Come here.”
Teto didn’t need to be told twice. The space between them disappeared easily. Miku leaned in first, a soft kiss, it wasn’t rushed like most of theirs. When they pulled back, neither of them moved far.
Miku rested her forehead lightly against Teto’s, her voice quieter now. “Seriously, some day you’re going to be the death of me.”