Chapter Text
Proximity…is an odd thing, isn't it. People tend to lean towards each other; often intruding without end into the bubble of others. Sometimes they'd go so far as to claim that space for themselves. “Mr.Natsuki,” Astrea knew that there existed only one to entertain the idea of stealing Mr.Natsuki’s space. “Lady Felt,” the Sword Saint tilted her head to the duo.
—tall and imposing, like a shadow, he stood beside his Lion. Black, orange-gilded robes sat covering a black suit with orange highlights. Handsome and pristine, as any man of his status should be.
Yet, at his side with a sneer no young lady should wear, Felt stood with her arm looped around his. Felt; Starlit Lion held lips of speckled roses and cheeks as pink as plums. And her dress, loose and bubbly. Orange. A bright, suffocating orange that melded well with the white silk outlines.
They looked…perfect.
Felt knew that—and she held that above her. Mockingly, she leaned against Mr.Natsuki, pulling him close. “Sword Saint,” she spat.
Mr.Natsuki never lost his small smile. “Lady Astrea,” though she was sure he only feigned his respect for her. After all, they were at the behest of a thousand opinions that matter. He put on a smile that might not have been real, “true to my word, here we are.”
“Still, we can totally leave if you try something slick.”
—the Lion…you don't talk about the lion. Don't mention her. Don't think of her. Imagine a world where she doesn't exist…in a world where your sole purpose is to…not think.
Felt Natsuki—his Sunlit Lion…you don't get to look at her—
Astrea noticed it…the way people always seemed to dance around them as she guided them through the middle-city walls. Not like they did with Mr.Natsuki where they parted bodies with respect, not–not whatever this is. Once, they opened paths for the Sword Saint and Mr.Natsuki, now they clear the streets when they spot the glistening lion.
She remembered an old tale her mother used to tell her of an old North Star that fell from the sky, parting the oceans as he crashed into the waters.
Felt Natsuki seemed to be that old North Star—”Felt,” Mr.Natsuki mumbled, “stop.” His Lion attempted to pull him down a road towards a candy shop. “We'll be in,” he slipped his arm from her hold, putting his arm around her shoulders, hugging her lightly. “And we'll be out. Nothing long…not too many people looking at you—so, for me,” he kissed her forehead—
…do lions…purr? Astrea didn't know. But Felt purred. She purred, nuzzling her nose into his forearm. “Just a bit longer, yeah?”
“Promise?” She questioned with fluttering eyes.
Astrea looked away…ignoring the purrs swallowing her ears. “Have I ever lied?” His voice was sultry; they were supposed to be siblings. Two torn souls that tore themselves from Hell, climbing up to a spot no demon could reach. They were supposed to be siblings, but their lips hovered so close to each other—if the wind was cruel, it'd have blown them together.
Felt scoffed, “you totally don't want me to answer that—”
She sat, legs draping over the edge of her stool, attempting to hold her heart from falling. She leaned against the bar, resting her elbows on the wood as a glass of smoldering milk sits in front of her. “Felt Natsuki—” She mumbled…the bar was silent. Astrea frowned, looking around with light confusion. “Have I misspoken?”
She was still vaguely unfamiliar with social norms. After all, Charlie chuckled, teasing the Saint for choosing something as mundane as warm milk. “Not exactly,” Charlie mumbled, drying a glass. “You just…you don't get to talk about her.”
He didn't look up to acknowledge the Saint. Inside Mr.Natsuki's bar, only one rule exists. “Not in here at least—don’t say the Lion’s name. I had an old friend who used to work here…just as Mr.Natsuki started sponsoring us.” Charlie did what he did best, playing the role of a bartender and storyteller.
“Young family friend, a little kid hoping to be someone. Mr.Natsuki seemed larger than life. So he started trying to follow the man…until he met the Sunlit Lion.” The bartender shook his head, frowning. “The kid had an eye for the girl. Wouldn't leave ‘er alone,” his accent bubbled up. “She’d come in behind Mr.Natsuki, clinging like the world’d take him from her—”
“Poor boy…got in between them,” Duchess Varre spoke up. She breathed in. “As a lady, you know how young boys get, Astrea?” The Sword Saint nodded. “They want your attention, cuddling and coddling, bringing flowers and sweets…except the Lion wasn't someone to…be…sought after.”
Lady Varre’s Knight, Sir Galvan tapped the table beside her. “Not in any normal sense. The Lion was a lost cause; he thought he was a Lion Tamer.”
“Till he got bit,” the shivering, Retired Knight perked up. Sir Bernan lifted his tattered eyes, gazing at the Saintess.
“She bit him?”
Varre scoffed, “Od-no… Doubt she'd let anyone off that easy—” She lost her soft, mocking smile. She frowned, looking at nothing in particular. “You could not begin to imagine the pain of losing your object of obsession. When the Lion lost sight of Mr.Natsuki, there was blood.”
Astrea…did not know of this. She met Fel—the Lion a handful of times. Not once would she be so brazen as to believe that someone so young would go so far. Though, they smell of blood and miasma.
“Not a lot,” and finally, the Reverend of the Grateful Dragon, Reverend Halvric offered a small smile. He nodded at the Sword Saint.
“Painted the walls,” Sir Bernan countered.
Charlie scoffed, “that's the PTS…PTSD talking. There wasn't that much blood—”
“But there was some—and damn it to Hell when she stabbed that boy! He ain't deserved it! Can't a lad chase after some tail once in a while?” Sir Berman laughed out in frenzied madness. No one paid him any mind.
“...not to agree explicitly…but his words are not wrong. Shame he chased after a lion—” Varre mumbled, swirling her wine.
“And got bit,” Sir Galvan mocked.
Bernan laughed harder, Charlie chuckled along. “Can't say the lad ain't got balls!” Charlie barked, sending laughter across the desolate pub. “I'd of shat myself twice over!”
—and now…here they are, standing in front of two large, ivory doors. Astrea guided them through the middle-city walls, further into the city. Finally, after a few minutes of walking the world awaits. “Sword Saint,” the two stationed Knights stood ready. “Mr.Natsuki,” they nodded, and he returned their words with a small,. comfortable smile.
Neither looked, nor paid attention to Felt. “If you could, could you explain to us your intentions within the Dragon’s Throne Room?” They did not look at Astrea because in a sense, who was she? The strongest in the world, maybe…but nothing like him. Mr.Natsuki.
“Felt,” he spoke, signaling the girl forward.
Instantly, her aloof face fell as a respectful smile played with her lips. She bowed her head, curtsying slightly. “I am here to attend the Royal Selection as the Fifth Dragon Candidate under Felt Natsuki.” silence sundered the area.
The Knights…froze. Confused. Fearful. Uncomfortable. Subaru chuckled, pulling Felt back towards his side. “They're a bit nervous,” he said gently, “we won't stay long—”
Their eyes widened as the trio stood expectant, waiting to be let in. Their eyes widened, “sir, yes sir!” Like soldiers, the Knight parted, opening the giant doors. “Please enjoy your stay!” They bowed profusely.
…Astrea looked away to hide her…stuttering embarrassment. She informed the guards prior to bringing him that he'll be attending, yet they frolic like little boys. “Damnit,” she almost cringed as they cursed behind the door. “You messed me up!”
Felt rolled her eyes, dropping her act. “Some Knights they are.” She looped her arm around Subaru’s, glancing at faces she's loosely familiar with. Nobles that had visited the store a few times, cracking jokes, eating sweets, and trying to act like they wanted nothing when they all wanted Subaru.
She closed her eyes, leaning against his forearm. “So, what are—”
“Ah,” Felt’s eyes fluttered open, “had I been informed of your participation, I'd ‘ave worn something more…befitting of your presence, Natsuki-san.” A purple-haired vixen sauntered over. Felt rolled her eyes, glaring. “Lady Felt—” Subaru eyed the short lady with small disdain.
“What do you want, Anastasia?” Just beside Subaru, Astrea slithered herself to his right. Not as close as Felt, but close enough for the statement to hold weight.
Anastasia shook her head, “can't a lady…admire?” She looked at Astrea, smiling. “Had I been none the wiser, I’d say he's the Felt’s sponsor, is he—” Mr.Natsuki smirked—he smirked. Anastasia met his gaze with fruitless trepidation. She looked into him, frowning.
“Lady Hoshin, surely you have better things to do.” Subaru looked down on the lady without care. Mr.Natsuki came for a few things, and even she knew that she wasn't amongst the ire of his attention.
She shrugged, gloves hands interlocking behind her back as she leaned forward, emphasizing her breasts. “Aren't I greedy?” She said, “haven't I told you already? So,” she looked across his body, “can't a lass admire what will be hers?” And then…mistakenly, she looked at Felt. “Competition or—”
—Mr.Natsuki does not get angry often, but he does get angry. “Lady Hoshin,” he looked down at her. “Your use of competition presupposes that there exists a challenge to be won.” He smiled, shaking his head. “You are no one.”
And then…they walked, passing her guided by him. Felt sighed, “man, that lady’s always over here bein’ weird. Metaphors and bad behavior, am I right?”
Subaru hummed, “hungry?”
Felt squinted, looking at him suspiciously. He pointed across the room where a table sits managed by butlers and maids. Food. She frowned, “you're just tryin’ to send me away to get all—”
“Trust me,” his voice mellowed out, smothering his anger and annoyance beneath polite smiles. “Just for a while.” She didn’t look convinced; outside of the shop or their house, they don’t split up if they’re out together. “Five minutes…I’m still your sponsor, aren’t I? So anything that I am doing will only be for you, just as I’ve done since we’ve known each other.” Felt’s shoulders loosened. “Hungry?”
She nodded slowly, “yeah. I’ll—I won't be eating a lot so we can eat together later, Okay—” She turned her eyes towards the Sword Saint. “Don’t try anything—keep your grubby hands to yourself. I’m on to you.” But she wasn’t the smartest, and knew little of Astrea’s feelings for her older brother. Felt looked back at Subaru, “don’t go far.”
He hummed, nodding. “Don’t eat too much…” And they stared as she left with a small smile growing as she walks with soothing anticipation towards the food tables. “Lady Astrella,” Mr.Natsuki lost his smile as his hand came out in her direction. The young lady blinked, and her Blessing of Mental Fortitude hummed to life. She looked at his black gloved hand, now free of its glove, held out towards her. She met his eyes, seeing him smile.
She…took his hand; did he send away his sister for this? Though for now she’ll not care. Not about things like this. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he proposed a question to her…just as he set his hand on her waist. “What are your thoughts on the Head of House Barielle?” The music seemed to be drowned out—when had he gotten taller than her? Is that such a question that needs to be asked? “Outside of her position as a candidate?”
Priscilla Barielle, Blood Bride of House Barielle—rumored to have been the cause of the death of her numerous husbands. “I have no thoughts of the young Barielle.” Astrea told the truth; of those that participate within the Royal Selection, only two vaguely interested her outside of her duty as the Sword Saint. Lady Emilia the Half-Elf and Felt the Last of House Lugunica. “I know little of her leading ability—”
“Why?”
She…paused? “Pardon? What exactly are you asking?”
He looked away from her, “I’ve place unto you the hope that this was for the best. Yet, I’ve come to understand that you haven’t explored the abilities of other candidates.” He seemed to spot Priscilla amongst the crowd standing far off. “Lady Barielle rules the Barielle Barony, a deceptively prosperous territory she inherited and improved.” There was reverence in his words. “Of those that participate within the Selection, she is the only one with any worth. Though there is an issue with all of that: Priscilla Benedict, an exiled imperial princess of the Sacred Vollachia Empire.” He looked back at her, “what do you know about the Half-Elf, Lady Emilia?”
Astrea searched his eyes for a reason. “You implore as if you do not already know more than I.” She paused, looking away. “Lady Emilia was born and raised in the Elinor Forest; however, unforeseen events ended with the forest freezing. Eventually, she freed herself from the ice and met Margrave, Roswaal Al. Mathers. Here—” He frowned, “she exists to win the selection and obtain the Dragon’s Blood to free her people while unionizing their races… Is that satisfactory?” She met his eyes as he looked at her.
“Astrea do you say so little on purpose?” He smirked. “What about the Great Spirit of Fire at her beck and call?” He whispered, frowning. “Is not it the slightest bit odd that the Margrave came across her? The very same Margrave who just so happened to come across a fell Oni Village at the perfect time? I’m starting to conclude that in your haste with Felt located, that you deluded yourself into thinking you know more than you do. Sword Saint or not, your mind is fallible.” His hand loosened on her waist as he went to distance himself from her.
…But she did not let him go. Not yet—fallible her mind might be, but she knows what she wants outside of her duties as a Sword Saint. “Mr.Natsuki,” she spoke, “aren’t I…human? Capable of making mistakes. I plead to be…forgiven.” To be held. To be looked at…to be considered human. “I will serve Lady Felt—”
“I’ve killed hundreds,” he said softly, “the rumors are true. I’ve killed innocents, women and children—yet…you like me.” He humored, slightly disgusted and baffled. Yet, his hand stayed. “Though it doesn’t matter now, huh?” He dropped the formalities. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with Felt participating in something less than its worth.”
“I believe you should reconsider—” His hand scratched her side with intentional sincerity.
“Maybe. Say, what does she get from this that I can’t give her?” Close, her chest rubbed against his. “The Blood of the Dragon is just another obstacle. I killed Sloth, Greed, and Lust… all because I wanted her to exist in a world without fear. I’ve stolen secrets. I’ve hurt so many people, some of which you’re quiet close with—so, what does she get from this that I cannot give her?”
Astrea found her eyes falling. “I pray that you recons—”
“If I were to kiss you,” he asked so suddenly. “Would you kiss me back after being told of all that I’ve accomplished?” He spoke of his actions as if they were accomplishments. “Or would you…slip away? Isn’t this what you want, a kiss from the Esteemed Mr.Natsuki?” He mocked her feelings, his title. “You can’t lie to me. I know too much… The stalking. The questions. Your envy for Felt. Your wish to be considered human—if I were to kiss you, what would you do?”
“Do your intentions lie with using my feelings?” She frowned, slightly annoyed…but she did not pull away. “Were you to kiss me, you ask of my actions after. I’m unsure.” She looked at him as he smirked.
He shook his head, chuckling, and taking his hand back. “We’ll be staying just long enough to announce that Felt won’t be joining.”
“Again, I implore that—”
“Why?” He mocked. “Why does the world deserve Felt? After all that they’ve—”
“If I were to kiss you,” because she was a lady with an infatuation. “What would you do?”
He chuckled, shaking his head once more. “You’re entertaining at the end of the day.” He looked back at the table where Felt greedily ate only the candies. “I can say that much—”
“Will you still be departing?” She sees no point in attempting to convince him.
“Yes.”
“Mr.Natsuki.”
“Hmmm?’
She wiped her palms on her dress softly, “I want to kiss you.”
“I know.”
“And you refuse me even that.”
He huffed with a smirk. “I already made the offer.”
She turned towards him, finding his eyes landing on her. “I suppose you hav—”
“Aye,” and then…Felt was back…with her dress pockets perfectly stuffed. “Alright, I snuck some candies out of sight—I…what’s going on here?” She questioned at the lack of distance between the two of them. She crossed her arms.
Mr.Natsuki smiled, “we were going to end this momentous night with a kiss,” he said it so causally. “That was until you confessed to stealing.” His eyes tore across Astrea’s face, smiling as her cheeks tinted. And then he looked back at Felt.
…”kiss?" Felt repeated, confused, surprised, and finally she caught on. “Kisses—whoa,” she stepped between them fruitlessly. Both were too large to be separated easily. “None of that. Keep them lips to your—Subaru,” she pouted, “stop it.”
Smirking, Subaru relented to the Lion’s desires, and stepped back. Astrea looked away, across the ballroom of pretentious nobles and future royalty. “No one kisses no one,” Felt stood between them, glaring like a child.
He looked down at her, finding humor in her anger, “Felt…do you want to be a part of this selection? However long it may be, you'll win—do you want to win?” She was confused. “You'll rule Lugunica. You can have as many sweets as you want—-OR…we can go home. Forget about everything else.” He put the offer in the air.
Astrea frowned, “would your goal, Lady Felt, not be the equalization of power amongst nobles and commoners?” After all, Felt used to be a thief who likes shiny things, and she only ever stole from the rich and wealthy. “Hadn't you been raised in an unforgiving shack—is it not your t—”
“We can go home.” Felt didn't care; she only came because he asked her too, and now that he's subscribing to her own goals, she's ready. She looked at Astrea, glaring like she caught her doing something she shouldn't have. “Keep your evil sword lips away from—”
“Do you want to dance, Felt?” Her frown shifted in a small smile. She looked at him as his hand—no longer gloved, reached out for her.
She squinted. “What's this supposed to be, an apology dance to make me forget? Well luck’s on you…I want to dance anyways.” She took his hand; he took her waist… He kissed her cheek. She rolled her eyes, glaring. “Not gonna trick me—I’m watching you.”
The Morning After
—”Rumor has it,” Varre whispered barely awake, “the Sunlit Lion pulled from the selection.” Beside the Duchess, her knight set the glass of alcohol in front of her. “Hmmm…apparently Mr.Natsuki and…” her eyes fell on the redhead sitting at the bar. “...the Sword Saint were caught in a scandal.”
For a second they looked at Astrea to confirm her answer. The young lady gave nothing more than a hum and a few words. “So it seems—we danced, yes. Kisses…outside of the,” her cheeks burned. She shook her head. “Don't worry.”
The veteran to her left chuckled, shaking the bar. “Damn it to hell! I'm two pints up!” Charlie sneered, glaring at the man mocking him. “Told you. Ain't nothing greater than a man’s intuition.”
Varre rolled her eyes, “that intuition didn't save your legs, aye—”
“You beat up back alley whore!” The happy veteran yelled.
Charlie kept quiet, looking at the maiden who managed to swindle his boss’s heart. He looked away, back towards the door. “And what of the lion?” He questioned, unsure of the whole situation. The kiss wasn't a rumor, after all, the Sword Saint confirmed the scandal.
Silence prolegates outward. Astrea shook her head, “such is not mine to concern myself with. She is no longer a candidate…no longer a responsibility placed on—”
“So the girl wasn't anything big?” Varre frowned, eyeing the lady with a sneer. “I expected much, kinder in fact. Though that Lion's hard to handle.”
“Not hard, just…young,” Astrea smiled. “She did not enjoy the fact that he and I are more than friends as of late.”
Charlie still didn't like this. Mr.Natsuki already had so much power, and now he has the World’s Greatest in love with him. “He is manipulative, Little Saintess.” He commented, looking at the younger lady. “Cunning and handsome, but a liar nonetheless.”
He spoke of his boss with such disdain, but even he couldn't stop smiling. “I could only dream of acquiring the ability to swoo such a fine Maiden's heart.”
Astrea looked away, slowly standing. “Not so much as swoo…just the possibility of something permanent.” She looked at Charlie. “And do not forget, I am the Sword Saint, immune to trickery and deception.” She joked, feeling light after last night's events.
…
Where…at the foot of the stairs, with a thousand eyes dancing across them…he dipped her, kissing her softly. Chuckling.
…
“I’ll be off,” her cheeks were red. She set her coins to pay for her drinks. “
See you soon.”