A raindrop for 64907!

[stormies]

Title: Where The Forest Meets The Sea
Pairing(s): Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Genres: AU - fantasy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When his home, the little city-state of the Red City, signs a vassal agreement with the forest kingdom of Janisia, Sakurai Sho accepts his fate: he’s sent to live in the forest kingdom of Janisia as a guarantee of the Red City’s commitment. But the agreement also includes a requirement to marry a member of the Janisian royal family...
Warning(s): Mention of hunting animals (not graphic). Very light violence.
Author's notes: I took some liberties with Sho’s family to fit the story - specifically giving him an older rather than a younger sister.

Phrenk did an absolutely sterling beta on this story, thank you <3 All remaining errors are my own.

64907, I took a few of your prompts and went to town - hope you enjoy it!

---

“So it’s done?”

Rubbing a hand across his face, Sho let out a small sigh and nodded.

“It’s done. The Janisian delegation left yesterday, so the queen should have the formal treaty confirming our vassal status by now. She’ll expect my arrival tonight.”

The duke of the Red City frowned, deep lines etching his forehead, and flicked open his pocket watch. Sho knew it was almost midday from the bright sunshine slanting in through the open windows, making the tiles gleam. Dust motes danced in the air of the hall -- the throne room of the Red City.

Sho leaned against the mahogany table in front of his father and turned his head, staring at his reflection in the polished surface. His dark hair, normally neatly combed, was mussed, while his mouth, quick to laugh under other circumstances, was downturned and serious.

Shaking himself, Sho smoothed his expression and looked up.

“I’m sorry, Sho. There was no one else of appropriate rank other than your sister, my heir, and the terms the Janisian queen offered were such that she would accept no less than a member of the ducal family.”

Sho shrugged. “I knew that when I signed the marriage contracts. It was that or our little city-state would have been at war with Janisia. It’s almost certain we would have lost. We ultimately have no quarrel with the queen or her country.”

“Still. I wish things were different. I’m just relieved that Mai and your mother are away in the south at the moment; this parting will be very hard on them.” The duke rose from the iron and velvet chair that served as his throne and took his son’s hand, shaking it firmly. “I thank you for your sacrifice.”

A laugh bubbled up out of Sho’s throat. “Sacrifice? You make it sound like I’m going off to die. I’ll still be your son, no matter what happens.”

The duke tightened his grip on his son’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder with the other, rumpling Sho’s fine linen shirt. “You’re right, son. I’m sure the Janisian queen will treat you kindly, and your betrothed… well, I wouldn’t have let you sign the contract if I didn’t believe you’d be safe.”

They walked across the grand throne hall, bootheels tapping on the tiles glazed in soft blues and greens. The breeze blowing through the open windows carried the cries of gulls on the harbour, the creaking of the moored ships, and the smell of the sea, salt and seaweed. The Red City, named for the famous terracotta tiles that graced the roofs of most of the buildings and the rich clay soil of the cliffs down to the harbour. The main port on this stretch of the east coast. Sho’s home.

Sho glanced at the large parchment map mounted on the far wall. The delicate lines of ink showed the Red City as it had been for decades, a small, independent city-state on the east coast. And just beyond its borders to the west, the large inland territory of Janisia.

He shivered. The Red City had no formal alliance with Janisia, and Janisia had no permanent ambassador at the Red City, but trade links were established trade links and relations were cordial, from what Sho knew. He’d met several Janisians when they came to the Red City for trade negotiations, but he didn’t know much about their country or culture. As people almost never travelled to Janisia itself, rumours abounded throughout the Red City and beyond about Janisia’s power. That Janisians could turn into trees, control waters, harness the winds... just tales, Sho told himself. Just tales.

“I wasn’t surprised when we received the message from Janisia,” said Sho, pushing open the door and gesturing for his father to go ahead. Crossing the cobblestone courtyard outside, Sho took a deep breath, trying to set the scent of the sea in his memory. He was going to miss that smell. “They’ve always been cut off from the western coast by the Grey Mountains, since the only pass is heavily guarded by Exiled Empire.”

The duke nodded. “You’re right, of course. We knew this would happen someday, and it’s far better to be a vassal than our people conquered by force.”

“Quite right,” Sho agreed, forcing himself to keep his voice steady and light. His father already seemed worried, and Sho was determined not make things any worse. “What’s done is done.”

Through the courtyard, they passed the duke’s residence. The ruler of the Red City lived in a rambling stone manor, built on coastal foothills above the main city itself. From this vantage point, Sho could see the the many winding streets that led down to the port that was filled with tall ships. Although they seemed a tangled maze to outsiders, Sho had spent most of his childhood sneaking down to the port city, and running wild with the local children. He knew it like the back of his hand.

Sho paused, drinking in the sight of the deep red rooftops and the crashing waves further out to sea. Then he followed his father through a small pleasure garden with a bubbling fountain and meandering paths among the flowers, and finally along the walled kitchen gardens -- he stopped to pick an apple from his favourite tree -- and towards the stables. Two riders dressed in russet leathers and deep green cloaks waited just outside the stables. A Red City groom held Sho’s horse with one hand and a dark red riding jacket of fine wool in the other.

“Thank you, Ueda.” He adjusted his purple silk neckerchief and shrugged on the jacket, waving away Ueda’s offer to help. When he’d finished buttoning it up and straightening his linen cuffs, Sho looked every inch a scion of a wealthy Red City family. Only the richly embroidered ducal crest on his breast pocket and the gold signet ring on his right hand showed his membership of the Sakurai duchy. Sho just hoped it would be enough for the Janisian queen, and for his intended match.

“You’ll do us proud,” Ueda said with a grin, and shook Sho’s hand. “There’s salted caramel candies from Ohno’s shop in your left pocket; he said to write if you can’t do without sweets and he’ll send you some. He’s sorry he couldn’t get away from the shop to say goodbye.”

“I’ll definitely do that,” Sho promised, pulling the bag of candies from his pocket. His mouth twitched in a smile as he saw that Ohno had scribbled a brief note on the paper bag and included a tiny sketch of Sho sitting in a tree, wearing a flower crown.

One of the Janisian riders cleared his throat meaningfully, and Sho straightened his shoulders, putting the candies back in his pocket and turning to his father.

“Sho, I shall miss your wise counsel and your head for numbers when we are reviewing the treasury,” said the duke. “You know you will always be welcome in this house, if the Janisian queen permits you to leave her borders and visit.”

“Someday, I hope,” Sho replied lightly, knowing that the treaty stipulated he spend at least a decade within Janisia’s borders.

Sho mounted up, none too gracefully, and winced as one of the Janisian riders tried to cover a snort of laughter with a cough. He’d never been particularly fond of horses or riding, preferring to travel on foot or by boat unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, travelling to Janisia meant horses were required.

“Ready?” asked one of the Janisian riders, his voice kind. This was one who hadn’t laughed at Sho’s horsemanship. Close up, Sho could see the tell-tale signs of a Janisian -- the lightest tracery of green veins on the rider’s neck, green streaks in his hair, and the slightly pointed ears. This Janisian wore curved malachite earrings in both ears, but with a hat or helm, and a high necked shirt, it was fairly easy for a Janisian to pass unnoticed.

Sho nodded his assent that he was ready to leave, though in truth he wanted to turn tail and run. He took a deep breath and settled himself in the saddle. He could do this. He would do this. For his family, and for the Red City.

The Janisian riders bowed in the saddle to the duke, and Ueda released Sho’s bridle, letting him take the reins.

“Farewell, father,” Sho said. He tried to keep his voice calm and his face stoic, but his lower lip trembled slightly. His father’s hand reached up to briefly grip his own.

“You bring great honour to our family, and to our city. Be well, my son.”

Sho gave his father a small smile, and bowed in the saddle. “I’ll do my best. Farewell!” he called over his shoulder as they rode away.

---

The ride began uneventfully. The Janisians were silent and Sho made no attempt to make conversation. He mulled over what he knew of the Janisian realm -- shamefully little beyond the tales of their power over nature and the taxes that the Red City levied on Janisia’s imports.

And the nature spirit he was now technically married to, in order to secure the treaty? Well, he knew nothing about them, not even their name. The treaty simply stated that the marriage would between a member of the Janisian queen’s family and an immediate member of the Red City duke’s family. He’d accepted the marriage sight unseen to save his home from losing a war with Janisia.

And what on earth was he going to do with himself when he got there? In the Red City he was busy every day. He was his father’s trusted advisor on financial matters, spending at least of part of every day in the treasury. Sho reviewed import duty revenue, determined funding for city improvements, and provided tax relief to struggling industries. He assisted his father in hearing grievances, particularly relating to finances. Along with Mai, the heir to the duchy, he travelled south and north to their neighbours, negotiating trade deals and representing the Red City’s interests. Maybe the Janisians would allow him to provide a similar service. It would certainly be an incredible opportunity to gain an insight into how Janisia managed its finances.

Sho sucked thoughtfully on one of Ohno’s caramel candies as his horse trotted along. One Janisian rode ahead of him, one behind. The earthen road snaked through arable land on the outskirts of the Red City itself, then forked: south to travel around Janisia to the Grey Mountains or west to Janisia itself. Sho had taken the south road before, but never the west road.

They passed the border between the Red City and Janisia by mid-afternoon and were waved through the checkpoint, which was staffed by a pair of Red City guards who were unsurprised to see them. The duke had sent runners ahead of Sho to tell the guards that the three of them were coming.

The further they travelled, the more Sho began to feel a creeping sense of dread. The Janisian queen had not given the Red City long to consider her offer -- only five days. Kimura, the Red City’s finest advocate, had reviewed the treaty and agreed there was no way to fulfil it other than for Mai or Sho to marry a member of the Janisian royal family and move there for an extended period. His father had protested but Sho had stood firm. Even if he’d wanted Mai to go in his place, there was no way they could get a message to her from the Red City in time.

Despite knowing deep down that he was doing the right thing, Sho couldn’t help but feel nervous. The agreement included a statement that the duke’s family member would be treated with ‘honour and respect’, but there was no way anyone in the Red City would know if that were actually true. The Janisians could throw Sho in a cell and leave him to rot while writing false letters to his family, if they wanted to. It seemed unlikely, but Sho ruminated on the possibility anyway. Eventually he forced himself to put it from his mind.

Sho ate another one of Ohno’s caramels and tried to focus on his surroundings. The meadows to either side of the road were filled with wildflowers and buzzing bees. He could see a rabbit scampering along a slope to the east and two or three deer grazing beyond. There were no other riders in sight -- only Janisians tended to travel this road.

As the sun began to sink, the sky shifted from bright blue to a dreamy palette of pinks and oranges and the Janisian woods rose up ahead of the road.

Sho frowned. The road seemed to narrow and disappear between the trees. “How do we continue? The horses can’t travel through the wood with no path,” Sho called to the lead rider, who raised a gloved hand. They slowed down, then stopped at the entrance to the trees.

The two riders shifted to flank Sho on either side, and bowed deeply in the saddle -- much deeper than they had to Sho’s father, the duke. Sho shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he was supposed to bow as well. It dawned on him that the wood seemed completely silent -- no birdsong, no animals moving through the underbrush, not even the sound of a breeze rustling the leaves.

“Janisia, guardian of the wood, we beg your grace as we return to you from abroad,” said the Janisian to Sho’s left, his voice low and reverent.

There was a soft ripple in the air, and Sho’s mouth fell open. The road, which he thought had narrowed to nothing, now appeared again, changing from the packed earth they stood on to grey stones that shimmered with a pearly glow. He could hear the hooting call of an owl and the whisper of the breeze. The trees themselves seemed to move subtly, forming an arched entrance over the road.

The rider who had spoken the invocation that opened the path urged his horse forward.

“Go on then, son of the Red City duke,” said the rider behind him, with a note of amusement in his voice.

Startled, since he’d still been staring at the newly-revealed path ahead, Sho nonetheless shook himself and nudged his horse forward. As they passed over the threshold of the woods it seemed to Sho that the very air around them twisted and shifted. Looking over his shoulder beyond the rider behind him, the trees had closed in and there was no sign of the road to the Red City.

Sho felt goosebumps rising on his skin, though the forest air was pleasant. Even if he’d wanted to betray the terms of the treaty, at this point there was likely no way for him to escape the woods.

Their small party kept their horses to a walk; as they travelled slowly along the shining path, Sho found his fear changing to wonder.

Twilight lent the woods a soft, glowing light. All around him were beautiful trees, their leaves rustling almost like they were speaking to each other. First a pale birch with elegant boughs caught his eye. Then there was a sturdy oak with glossy green leaves and acorns scattered about its roots. The scent of pine and eucalyptus. On the forest floor, cushions of moss grew next to delicately spiralling ferns. Fruit trees blossomed as though it were the height of spring, alongside others heavy with fruit. Then a few moments later, Sho saw a magnificent cedar crowned with flaming leaves of rich red and orange, as though the season had turned to autumn.

Every tree Sho had ever seen or read about appeared to grow in Janisia’s forest. He’d never seen anything like it.

After about an hour of slow riding, the sound of rushing water came into earshot and they reached a simple wooden bridge that arched over a bubbling stream. The road ahead opened out into a wide open space in which numerous enormous trees grew, albeit less thickly than at the entrance to the woods. Sho gasped.

Between every trunk were steps and platforms, some open to the air and some with what looked like thatched roofs. Bridges of rope and vines and timber connected delicately carved pavilions. Winding staircases rose up ancient tree trunks. The canopy stretched hundreds of feet into the air, but there were still gaps where the starlight spilled through. Dozens of glittering silver lamps were scattered in the boughs, glowing with a filmy light.

More buildings were visible in the clearing, at least one of which appeared to be a stable, judging by the smell of oats and straw and the sound of whinnying horses. A young man was emptying a bucket into a trough outside as Sho and his entourage reined in their mounts.

“Fuma, would you fetch Aiba, please?” asked one of Sho’s escorts, the kind one. Fuma nodded, dashing up a set of steps that looked like fungi growing on a nearby tree trunk.

“I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Yasuda,” said the same Janisian, dismounting and rolling his shoulders with a groan. “My companion is Ninomiya. Welcome to Janisia.”

The other rider, Ninomiya, gave Sho a careless salute and a grin as he slid easily from his horse. Sho dismounted carefully, willing his legs to keep him upright after so long in the saddle.

“Yes, welcome, welcome!” came a cheerful voice. A tall Janisian with a beaming smile bore down on Sho from the fungi stairs, taking Sho’s right hand in both of his and shaking it firmly. Fuma trailed some distance behind.

“I’m so glad to meet you. How amazing, a Red City man here in Janisia!”

“Good evening, uh, Aiba, is it?” Sho asked, bowing slightly over their clasped hands.

Aiba grinned even more widely. “I am indeed. I am the chamberlain to her majesty the queen of Janisia’s household. Welcome, my lord, to Janisia, and to the city in the trees.” Releasing Sho’s hand, Aiba stepped back and absent-mindedly patted Sho’s horse.

Sho hid a smile. “Thank you, Aiba. Though no ‘my lord-ing’ please. Just Sho is fine.”

“Of course, of course! Now, you must be tired after your journey, so you’ll not meet the queen or Matsumoto this evening -- I’ll take you to your rooms, where you can eat and rest.”

“I should care for my horse --” Sho began to protest, but Aiba shook his head.

“Let us handle that for now. Fuma!” he called, followed by a piercing whistle. “Please take care of my lord -- sorry, Sho’s horse, while I take him to his rooms.”

Sho removed the saddlebags, hooking them over his arm as Fuma took his horse’s reins with a soft smile. “I’ll take good care of her,” Fuma said.

Yasuda and Ninomiya followed Fuma with their own horses, leaving Sho with Aiba.

“Do you need any help with your bags?”

“No, I’ll manage, thank you.”

Aiba led them to a wide wooden staircase around a massive oak tree. It spiralled high, almost out of Sho’s vision. There were no handrails.

“Um, Aiba. How high up are we going?” asked Sho, trying to sound unconcerned. Aiba didn’t seem to notice the wobble in Sho’s voice.

“Your suite is in pride of place near the top platforms, so you’ll have the most marvellous view. The morning sunrise is particularly lovely,” Aiba replied, waving his arm up at a pavilion roughly fifty feet above the ground.

“Wonderful,” Sho managed, smiling weakly. He hoisted the saddlebags firmly on to his shoulders and stepped up on the first stair, edging as close as he could to the trunk of the tree, and followed Aiba up. The risers were open, so he couldn’t even use his usual trick of watching the stairs themselves. The ground was visible between each step.

Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Aiba’s boots, Sho gritted his teeth and climbed. His stomach rolled and he shoved sweaty hands in the pockets of his trousers. He could do this. He just had to keep his eyes on Aiba and try not to breathe too much.

Aiba chattered away about the rooms Sho had been given, which Sho mostly ignored in favour of trying not to throw up. But then Aiba said, “We’re almost there, and if you look over, you’ll see the rope bridge that connects this tree to Matsumoto’s rooms in the great fir,” and in spite of his better judgement, Sho looked up and out.

He regretted it immediately. They were about thirty feet or so above the ground, but it seemed like miles as the ground spun beneath his feet and Sho sank to his knees in abject terror, clutching the edge of the steps.

Aiba turned as Sho’s saddlebags clattered onto the staircase.

“My lord? Sho? Are you all right?”

Sho inhaled sharply, trying to get himself under control. He stared at the knots in the timber of the steps and willed himself to unclench his fingers and stand up.

It didn’t work. Wind roared in his ears and Sho squeezed his eyes closed. If he just stayed still, maybe he would wake up and he’d be in his own soft bed at the ducal residence and none of this would be happening. He wouldn’t be betrothed to stranger in a foreign land, stuck halfway up a tree.

Dimly he heard Aiba call out to someone. Soft footsteps came closer, and Sho felt someone kneel down next to him. They smelled of pine needles and lavender and rested long fingers briefly on Sho’s cheek.

“Can you stand, my lord?” Their voice was regal, and they moved their hand to Sho’s shoulder, a comforting weight.

Sho tried to push himself upright, but his knees buckled again. He bit back a sob. The stranger squeezed Sho’s shoulder.

“He has the height terrors, Aiba. Take his bags and go on up, will you?”

Resting his head against the step, Sho trembled. He was going to fall, he was going to die, he was going to --

“My lord. Take my hand.”

The stranger’s palm was cool as they folded their hand around Sho’s, gently uncurling Sho’s stiff fingers.

“Now. You can do this. Left foot first. Keep your eyes closed.”

Sho obediently braced his left foot. With the stranger clasping Sho’s shoulder and hand firmly, he managed to stand. He kept his eyes shut tight, seeing nothing but darkness.

The stranger squeezed Sho’s hand. “Right foot up.”

Gingerly, Sho lifted his foot and placed on the next stair. Step by step, with the stranger guiding him, they continued the climb.

“Only a few more steps. You were almost there.”

The stranger stopped and Sho sagged against the tree trunk in relief.

“You can take it from here, Aiba,” said the stranger, and Sho felt them step away, leaving a strange emptiness. “Don’t open your eyes until you’re inside.”

“Th-thank you,” Sho said, and then Aiba took his elbow and led him a few steps further.

He heard the stranger’s footsteps recede and the faint note of pine receded into the overall lush scent of the forest as they left.

---

Sho woke to the sweet piping of the uguisu bird. He blinked slowly, remembering how he’d barely managed to change out of his riding clothes with Aiba’s help and fall into bed, exhausted after the ride and subsequent climb to his room. Sitting up, Sho looked around and tried not to think about how high up he was.

His pavilion jutted out from the tree, enclosed with walls of lightweight timber panelling, while slender pillars held up the roof.

The space had large windows with billowing white curtains that could be drawn for privacy, and in this space was a simple timber four poster bed -- it almost seemed like it had grown out of the floor as the posts were made of gnarled branches and twined with vines of wisteria and jasmine. More flowing curtains hung from the canopy, making the bed feel like a private tent within the room. It was heaped with plump pillows and soft, cosy blankets. Next to the bed was a small table with a earthenware jug of water and a basin for washing, a tree stump that clearly served as a stool, and a set of shelves.

Sho’s belongings had been packed in a chest and sent ahead of his arrival. Someone had shaken out some of his garments and hung them on wooden pegs set into the trunk of the tree and placed several of Sho’s books on the shelves.

Yawning, Sho stretched his arms over his head and got out of bed. He caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging above the table and grimaced. He’d slept poorly because of the unfamiliar sounds and the slight swaying of the pavilion so his eyes were puffy and tired. Fishing through his saddlebags, Sho found his razor and carefully shaved away the shadow of stubble, before splashing cool water on his face.

Since he was meeting with the queen of Janisia, Sho figured it would be appropriate to dress formally. The Red City had fairly relaxed codes of dress, so formal for him meant close fitting fawn-coloured trousers, another white linen shirt, and a deep crimson waistcoat and jacket, both ornamented with gold braid and embroidery. He tied a white silk cravat around his collar and peered in the mirror again, finger-combing his hair into a semblance of order.

He vaguely remembered that Aiba had said that he’d come for Sho the third hour after sunrise. Sho wasn’t sure exactly how that correlated with the time on his pocketwatch, but it was still early, the silvery dawn light spilling through the trees as he stepped out of the sleeping quarters.

It was clear that the whole pavilion actually wrapped around the entire trunk of the tree. Unlike his bedroom, this area just had a waist-height railing and was open to the elements.

The forest was truly beautiful and he’d never seen anything like the treetop dwellings. Despite the lurch of fear in his belly, Sho walked to the railing and leaned out. The air was fresh; while it was different to the sea and salt of the Red City, the smell of rich, loamy earth and damp leaves was equally pleasant. A light breeze stirred the leaves, but not enough to shake the pavilion.

There was another tree stump stool and a table in the open half of the pavilion. Someone appeared to have delivered breakfast while Sho was dressing. On the table was a veritable feast -- pickled mushrooms and grilled fish on rice sprinkled with sesame seeds, warm flatbreads with hummus and garlic oil, a dish heaped with wild blackberries and thick clotted cream, a steaming bowl of oats studded with raisins and spiced apples… Sho gaped. Some of the items he didn’t recognise but others were familiar. He sat down at the table, picked up a finely carved wooden spoon to try the oats, and almost let out a groan of pleasure. The flavour was nutty and sweet, even better than the porridge made by the cooks at the duke’s palace.

Sho finished the oats and was contemplating whether or not he had room to try some of the other dishes when he heard someone clear their throat from the stairs.

“Ah, good morning my lord! I see you’ve found your breakfast,” Aiba said cheerfully. Sho turned and smiled at him. In the morning light, he could clearly see Aiba’s pointed ears and the touch of green on his hands. The chamberlain wore a shirt that wrapped across the chest and tucked into wide brown trousers with a heavily embroidered green sash at the waist, as well as soft leather boots. Sho wondered if this style of dress was typical for the Janisians; the trade delegations to the Red City had usually worn clothes more similar to his own.

“Just Sho, please, and yes, thank you. Those oats were delicious but I’m afraid I can’t do justice to all this food,” replied Sho, looking regretfully at the remaining dishes.

“Not to worry -- that won’t happen every day, but the cooks weren’t sure what you’d like, so they sent a bit of everything. Now, are you ready? I’m to take you to the queen and to meet your betrothed.”

Sho gulped, looking askance at the stairs. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten all those oats.

Aiba followed his gaze, and smiled. “Oh yes. I forgot to say -- I’m a herbalist as well as her majesty’s chamberlain. This tincture will help with the height fears. It’s not common among our people, but there are occasionally Janisians who aren’t fond of heights, which makes life difficult. So I brewed this for them.”

He handed Sho a small clay bottle with a cork stopper.

“Just take a drop each day and you’ll feel a lot more able to manage the stairs and bridges. You won’t love them, but you shouldn’t collapse.”

Sho looked at the bottle dubiously. Still, if the Janisians were going to poison him, they’d probably have done it with his breakfast.

“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt,” Sho said with a shrug and uncorked the bottle, pouring one tiny drop on his tongue. The tincture tasted of of violets and somehow like a strong breeze. Sho shivered and tucked the bottle in his jacket pocket.

“I just need to retrieve the gift for her majesty,” he said, returning to his room. In his saddlebags was a small gold box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl in the shape of the Red City crest. Holding it in one hand, Sho returned and looked at the stairs.

He hesitated, took a deep breath, then stepped down. To his surprise, the tincture seemed to have worked. He took another step and grinned.

“Aiba, you’re a miracle man,” Sho exclaimed. He wasn’t sweating, his stomach stayed calm, and while he wasn’t necessarily enjoying the slow walk down the stairs, he wasn’t about to keel over in fear either.

Aiba smiled. “Happy to help.”

The chamberlain led Sho partway down the stairs, along a swinging timber and rope bridge, up another staircase, through a pavilion, down another staircase and finally halted in front of a wide pavilion curtained with flowering vines. Sho felt a mix of relief over being able to manage the heights and increasing worry about meeting his betrothed.

“Ready, my lord?” Aiba asked.

Sho swallowed. Tincture or no tincture, his stomach was fluttering as if he were at the top of the observation tower in the Red City, and he felt the box for the queen starting to slip in his suddenly sweaty palms. Sho tried to unobtrusively wipe his hands on his trousers and nodded firmly.

For mother, father, Mai, and the Red City, he told himself.

“I’m ready.”

Flicking his hand, a sparkle of green danced from Aiba’s fingertips and the vines opened like a set of curtains. The chamberlain stepped forward.

“Presenting my lord Sakurai Sho, son of Duke Sakurai of the Red City to her most serene majesty, Queen Yonekura of Janisia,” Aiba announced, gesturing for Sho to step forward.

Janisia’s throne hall was smaller than the Red City’s, but it was no less grand in its own fashion. The pavilion was surround by entwined branches and vines, built almost like a round nest that let in little dots of sunlight. The space was far from dark, however, as flurries of glittering lights like tiny stars floated near the ceiling; the vines themselves glowed faintly as well. At the far end of the pavilion, the throne was a small version of the room itself: an open semi-circle of twisted branches growing from the floor. The woman sitting on a pile of green velvet cushions had to be the queen of Janisia.

“Approach, Sakurai Sho,” the queen said, her voice carrying across the space, and Sho forced his legs to move forward.

Only one other person apart from Aiba and the queen was in the pavilion. Although he leaned casually against the twisting boughs that made up the throne, he had a regal look about him suggesting a royal background and he eyed Sho with a calculating expression. Sho thought there was a slight sense of judgment in that look, but he resolutely ignored it in favour of bowing deeply to the queen.

“Your majesty, I bring greetings from my father, his grace the Duke of the Red City, and trust that my presence will be a signal of his desire for the continued peace and prosperity of our two nations.”

Queen Yonekura smiled. She was possibly the most beautiful woman Sho had ever seen, dressed in an open robe of sheer silver silk, delicate as a dragonfly’s wing and embroidered with stars and leaves, over a plain green gown. Her crown was a thin silver circlet with a single diamond in the centre, set high on her brow. Diamond drops hung from her pointed ears. The green tints he’d seen on other Janisians were much more prominent on the queen; her hands, neck and chest were criss-crossed with swirls of deep green, almost like tattoos.

“We thank you for your presence, and with Janisia’s blessing, we trust the the marriage and home you make here will be a pleasant one.”

The man leaning against the queen’s throne frowned. Sho had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach.

“On my father’s behalf, I bring this gift from the Red City,” Sho said, presenting the little box to the queen, and reeled as it was snatched from his hand by the frowning man. “Hey, what --,” Sho yelped, only to blink as the man waved his hand over the box. A glowing trail of silver light flowed from his fingertips.

“It’s fine, no poisons or anything to be concerned about.”

Sho stiffened.

It was the same voice as the person who’d helped him up the stairs the night before. Sho had no doubt of it. But there was no trace of the warm kindness in his words this time.

“Thank you, Jun,” the queen murmured, taking the box from Jun’s hands and opening it.

“Why, they’re Red City pearls! How lovely. Thank you, Sakurai,” she said with a bright smile.

“You are most welcome, your majesty, and please, call me Sho.”

“Certainly. Now, you must be wondering about the marriage. This is my nephew, Prince Matsumoto Jun, third in line to the Janisian throne. Your husband.”

Jun stepped forward. Sho extended his hand; Jun paused, then shook Sho’s hand firmly. That same scent of pine and lavender clung to him. Sho knew for certain that Jun had definitely seen him terrified and unable to move on the tree steps the night before.

Still, he’d been very helpful then. Now Jun’s expression was something akin to cool detachment. A minute fraction taller than Sho and dressed even more richly than the queen, he looked royal from head to toe. Sho felt a little dingy just standing in front of him.

Well, he wasn’t going to embarrass himself or the Red City, dammit. Sho rallied and bowed to Jun at the exact depth that the son of duke would bow to a prince.

“Your highness,” Sho said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Jun raised an eyebrow.

Aiba coughed.

“... Likewise, I’m sure.”

Sho was deeply relieved that Jun didn’t mention their earlier meeting on the stairs.

“Uh, is there -- will there be any sort of wedding ceremony?” Sho asked. He realised he hadn’t really questioned the advocates on the marriage requirements, just signing his name once he knew it was the only option.

Jun scoffed and Sho glanced sidelong at the queen, who seemed to be hiding a smile.

“The signing of the treaty technically formalised the marriage, and your advocates didn’t include any requirement for a ceremony,” Queen Yonekura said kindly.

“Oh, I see. Well, uh, that’s fine,” Sho stuttered and felt his face flushing.

“As this is a treaty marriage, there is naturally no expectation of children, and in other circumstances you might not even spend all that much time together. However, as a foreigner in Janisia, on your own, you will need someone to guide you, and your husband is the best person for that.”

“Jun,” she continued, and in that one word, Sho knew in his bones that Queen Yonekura was far more powerful than her smiling countenance had initially led him to believe. “You will stay by your husband’s side, helping him to understand our ways and to feel as comfortable as possible.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Sho couldn’t tell exactly how Jun felt, but he was fairly certain that Jun wasn’t thrilled about baby-sitting his new husband.

“I look forward to speaking to you again in due course, Sho,” Queen Yonekura said and stood. Jun, Sho, and Aiba all bowed as the queen stepped off her throne and exited through the vines behind it.

Jun glanced at Sho, his expression stony. With the queen gone, Sho felt himself relax.

He glared right back.

“I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted,” remarked Aiba after a moment, seemingly untroubled by the growing tension between the pair. With a bow to Jun and Sho in turn, he followed after the queen.

“Well,” said Jun, leaning against the throne again and giving Sho a blatant up-and-down look. “At least they didn’t send someone heinously ugly.”

“I’m relieved my appearance meets his highness’s expectations,” Sho replied waspishly, folding his arms and giving Jun an equally frank assessment.

Jun’s wide pleated trousers were similar to Aiba’s, but Jun’s were a deep midnight blue silk. His cream linen shirt buttoned down the front, with full sleeves gathered at the wrist. Over it Jun wore a loose, sleeveless robe in olive green silk. Sho fixed the details in his mind; Mai would be fascinated to hear about Janisian fashion.

The clothing, though, while sumptuous, wasn’t what really caught Sho’s eye. He had to admit that Jun was attractive. His eyes were brown and his hair jet black, though Sho thought he could see a glimmer of violet in the fringe that swept along his brow. With an arched nose and prominent cheekbones, Jun was more striking than classically handsome, but it didn’t matter. When Jun bit his lip, clearly hiding a smile at Sho’s sharp retort, Sho knew he was in trouble.

“Hmm,” said Jun, stepping towards Sho. Up close, Sho could see a spiral of amethyst jewellery decorating Jun’s pointed ears. Like the queen, Jun’s hands and chest were covered in swirls of deep green, with tendrils curling up Jun’s neck and behind his ears. The scent of pine and lavender was fainter, but still there.

Sho took a half step back, and Jun’s lip twitched.

“Come on then, husband, and I’ll show you some of the sights.”

---

Dear Mai,

I hope this letter finds you and our father and mother well. I’m sorry it’s taken some time to write, and I trust the Janisian traders have delivered this promptly. They brought me your letter and parcel (please thank Ohno for the extra sweets).

Janisia is certainly very different to the Red City. No ship sails snapping in the wind, no gulls, no briny sea air. They live in the trees, Mai! There’s a veritable city in the forest here, all pavilions and bridges and stairs among the trunks. Living quarters and some of the work areas are up in the canopy, along with meeting spaces, the market, the library, and the throne hall. Other activities take place on the ground, like caring for the horses, the tannery, and such. There are some areas of the woods that are closer to open meadows, where they pasture sheep and alpacas for the textiles. They also have a massive grove of mulberry trees for silkworms -- it’s extraordinary. No wonder they produce such marvellous silks.

I’m sure you aren’t desperate to hear about Janisia’s flourishing silk industry. My apologies, sister.

Janisia is much smaller in population than you might have guessed -- there are maybe half as many adult Janisians as there are in the Red City. Though the number of dwellings suggests that the population was once larger. I think something might have happened to reduce the number of Janisians, but I’m not sure what and I daren’t ask.

Oh, my husband. I know you’re dying to hear all about him.

Yes, him. Queen Yonekura was very clear that children weren’t a stipulation of the treaty, so gender doesn’t matter. Lucky for me, I suppose, to have a marriage that suits me from that perspective.

What’s he like, you ask?

Sho paused, the nib of his pen hovering above the paper. How to describe his new husband?

Well… where to begin. His name is Matsumoto Jun. He’s striking, certainly, and definitely a little vain, judging by the way he dresses. He wears a mix of clothes like the Red City men, as well as Janisian styles (I’ve put some sketches in with this letter -- no, I did not draw them, so don’t worry yourself. I asked one of the tailors, his name is Masuda, to do it). A bit of a fashion plate, in my humble opinion. His clothes are beautiful though, no doubt about that.

Sho had started needling Jun a little each day, making a sly (or not-so-sly) comment about the prince’s outfits. Always impeccably tailored and in beautiful fabrics, Jun nonetheless seemed to like standing out. One day he had worn shades of purple from head to toe: a mauve wrap jacket, royal purple trousers and rich magenta sash. Sho had compared the look to a ripe grape. Jun had made an equally snide remark about Sho’s green jacket giving the impression of steeply sloping hill, looking pointedly at Sho’s shoulders.

Even thought they’d traded barbs for the rest of the day, the sparkle in Jun’s eyes had made Sho fairly certain that Jun was enjoying himself.

He’’s a little taller than me, broad-shouldered, dark-haired and dark-eyed. Nephew to Queen Yonekura and third in line to the Janisian throne, after her two daughters. He’s clearly highly skilled in what the Janisians call enchantment -- with a thought or a motion of his hand, he can force running water to flow in the opposite direction, or call down thunder, or encourage a tree to produce fruit right before one’s eyes.

Sho shook his head with a laugh, remembering how Jun had placed his hand on the trunk of an apple tree and murmured a few syllables. A moment later a crisp red apple fell from a branch into Sho’s open hand. Sho had almost dropped it in surprise. He’d tucked the apple in his pocket for later; ruby red with no hint of its enchanted provenance, it had been sweet and crisp and perfect.

I must admit that things are somewhat difficult at times. Jun is… not necessarily thrilled at the prospect of being married. I’m not certain if it’s just me, or if he’d be annoyed about being married to anyone. He can be rather hot and cold at times -- friendly and gregarious one minute, cold and remote the next. It’s a bit confusing.

While he’d been polite enough immediately following their audience with Queen Yonekura, Jun was… well, moody. Sho supposed he couldn’t blame Jun -- had their positions been switched, he probably wouldn’t have been thrilled about marrying a stranger either.

Still, I’m finding my way, albeit slowly. I still don’t quite know what I’m doing with myself here; I often feel at a loose end and not helpful to anyone.

But I shall persevere. Somehow.

Your loving brother,
Sho

---

As the days and weeks passed, Sho slowly fell into something resembling a routine. The cooks had quickly realised that he loved trying new foods, so they often included a sample of a new recipe with his usual breakfast of oats or grilled fish and rice. He’d wash and dress, sometimes mixing his tailored trousers with a loose Janisian jacket (Masuda had insisted on providing Sho with some Janisian clothing), eat, take a drop of Aiba’s tonic for his fear of heights, then wander down to the forest floor to meet his husband.

Jun had been remote and very formal for several days, treating Sho with the deference reserved for foreign dignitaries. Sho had responded in kind. They didn’t touch after the first handshake and conversation was stilted at best.

But they tentatively began to open up a little to each other. Sho mentioned that he enjoyed chess; the next day, Jun met him in the library with a beautiful set, each piece carved from a different type of wood. Sho won, but it was a close game.

Jun idly stated that he loved unusual foods and foreign dishes, so Sho spent a day with the head chef, Mabo, describing some of the Red City’s best-loved delicacies for Jun to try.

Small steps, Sho thought, but steps nonetheless.They’d go exploring, foraging for roots and mushrooms, or out to the meadows that surrounded the forest. Sometimes they’d stay closer to the city in the trees, Jun showing Sho the weaving space, the library, the royal kitchens and the carefully tended gardens.

At each place they visited, Sho felt more and more certain that something odd was happening in Janisia. The weaving space had over fifty looms, housed in a large timber building that sat in a clearing not far from the city in the trees. But only a dozen or so had Janisians working at making the beautiful silks and linens when Sho and Jun visited, the clacking echoing sadly through the space. The kitchen gardens were carefully tilled and planted but several plots were fallow. When Sho asked Jun about crop rotation, Jun frowned, informed him that the gardeners of Janisia were the finest anywhere, and refused to discuss it further.

In the afternoons, though, Jun often had to consult with the queen, leaving Sho to fend for himself. It was these long, lazy afternoons that made Sho most miss the Red City, his family, Ueda, Ohno… he was lonely. And bored. Other Janisians were courteous to him when he spoke, but opportunities were few and far between -- it seemed that each day there were fewer and fewer Janisians in the city in the trees. He occasionally saw Fuma down at the stables, helping with the horses, Aiba fairly regularly, but hardly anyone else.

As for Jun, there was definitely something growing between them. Arranged marriage or otherwise, he often felt Jun’s gaze on him, and sometimes Jun would let his hand brush against Sho’s. At least until Jun seemed to snap back to himself and become standoffish again. But those periods became less and less over time, and Sho felt like maybe, just maybe, he might be able to be happy in Janisia.

---

“I’ll take you hunting today,” Jun said, holding out a crossbow and a quiver of bolts to Sho. Jun was dressed much more sedately today, in a mottled green linen shirt and dark brown trousers with a light brown leather jerkin and boots. He’d removed the amethyst earrings and his other adornments. Without the sparkling jewels or flashy clothing, Sho’s eyes were drawn to the delicate swirl of green on Jun’s neck and collarbones. Feeling a flush rising in his cheeks, Sho looked away and swallowed the last mouthful of his breakfast honeycake (a new treat the cooks had sent him to try).

“If you say so,” Sho replied doubtfully, taking the crossbow and holding it as though it were a bomb about to explode.

“Come now. You’ve used a crossbow or a longbow before, surely?” Jun teased.

Returning a weak smile, Sho shook his head. “My sister was more of the hunter than me.”

“Ah. Well, better give me that crossbow back, I don’t want you to accidentally shoot me instead of a deer.”

With considerable relief, Sho returned the crossbow to Jun, who stored it and the bolts on a rack.

“You can just watch and learn from the master,” said Jun airily, taking a string from his pocket and looping it around one end of a massive longbow. He flipped the bow down and held it in place with his foot, bent it with ease and quickly hooked the other end of the bowstring in place.

Sho rolled his eyes, but deep down he was a little impressed. Even the Red City huntmaster would have struggled to bend a bow of that size.

“C’mon, Red City man, and let’s see if you can help me catch dinner.”

---

Sho bit back a grumble as they trudged through the woods. Jun had suggested they ride, but Sho wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up, and galloping in the forest sounded a bit scary, if he was honest with himself. Jun had reluctantly agreed to go on foot, acknowledging that it would at least be quieter that way.

It had been well over an hour and they’d barely sighted more than a rabbit -- “Not worth the effort,” Jun had sniffed -- and a pheasant or two. But Jun was determined to bring down a stag or a deer today.

So far Sho had stepped in a puddle, soaking the hem of his trousers, and torn his shirt sleeve on the rough bark of a tree. The forest was beautiful, as always, but he was focussed on trying to stay quiet and not lose sight of Jun, who blended into the trees effortlessly.

“This is why I left hunting to Mai,” he muttered to himself.

“Ssshhh,” Jun hissed, much closer to Sho than he’d realised. Jun had stopped walking, and he raised an arm to hold Sho back. “I think I hear something.”

The forest was still, only the faintest breeze stirring the leaves. A single bird trilled somewhere in the distance.

They both stood quietly for a moment. This close, Sho could feel the warmth rolling off Jun’s body, and that ever-present scent of pine and lavender. It took all of Sho’s willpower to not lean in even closer.

“There,” Jun breathed.

A majestic stag stepped into view. Moving silently and smoothly, Jun pulled an arrow from the quiver at his hip, nocked it to the bowstring and lifted his bow. As Jun prepared to draw, Sho moved back to give him room.

There was a loud snap from beneath Sho’s boot.

Jun quickly let his arrow fly, but it was too late -- the startled stag had bounded off the moment Sho had stood on the twig. Jun’s arrow thudded uselessly into a tree.

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Sho stammered. Jun whirled, his face thunderous.

“Are you completely useless? You can’t shoot, can’t ride; you had one job: to follow me and be quiet, and you couldn’t even manage that.”

Sho reeled as if he’d been struck, and as he took another step back, he tripped and fell, landing in the dirt.

“I am trying my best, but I’ve never been hunting before in my entire life!” Sho got to his feet and dusted the dirt from his trousers.

“That much is obvious.” Jun slung his bow back over his shoulder. “I don’t know why I bothered thinking you’d be any help.”

“You’re the magical forest friend, aren’t you? Could have cleared the path of branches, surely, or was that too much for your,” here Sho wiggled his fingers with a sneer, “little powers, your highness?” He realised he was baiting Jun, arguably a terrible idea, but he didn’t care. The jab about his lack of value stung.

Jun’s expression darkened. “Little powers? Oh yes, just little powers. Here, have a taste,” he snarled, and with a twist of his hand, a gout of icy cold water crashed down on Sho’s head. Sho gasped as the freezing rivulets poured down his neck.

Furious, Sho pushed his dripping hair back from his forehead. Before he knew what had come over him, he launched forward and slapped Jun across the face. He pulled back to hit Jun again, but Jun grabbed his wrist, stopping Sho in his tracks.

“You hit me,” Jun said, voice cool. “You dare strike a member of the Janisian royal family, you -- you --.”

“No, I hit my husband, who attacked me with his terrifying magical powers first,” Sho said angrily and raised his other hand to try again.

Quick as lightning, Jun grabbed that hand too. He pushed Sho back against a tree, trapping Sho’s hands above his head and leaning in close.

Sho’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He was still angry and cold water dripped down his shirt, but Jun was pressed up against his chest, strong hands pinning Sho in place. Staring up at Jun, Sho felt himself blush, and he turned his head to look away -- but not before he thought he spied an answering flush on Jun’s face.

Jun leaned in closer, his nose brushing Sho’s cheek. To Sho’s deep embarrassment, he let out a tiny moan.

“Your husband, hmm?” Jun murmured, his lips as light as feather against Sho’s jaw. “Unless the customs are different in the Red City, a slap doesn’t seem like the nicest way to treat your husband.” He squeezed Sho’s wrists, and Sho twitched, goosebumps rising on his arms.

“Neither is -- uh --- trying to d-drown them,” Sho managed to whisper. Jun had barely even touched him and he’d never wanted someone more in his life.

“Point taken,” Jun said, drawing back and releasing one of Sho’s hands. He reached up, cupping Sho’s face with long, cool fingers. It reminded Sho of the moment when he’d first arrived, terrified of heights, and Jun had helped him. He knew without a shadow of doubt now that it had been Jun who’d coaxed him the rest of the way up. Who hadn’t let him fall.

“Jun,” Sho said helplessly.

“Yes.” Jun tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Sho’s.

Time slowed to a crawl. There was nothing but Jun’s mouth, the scent of pine and lavender, and the heat of Jun’s body molded against Sho’s. He forgot the bark pressing uncomfortably into his back, his soaked shirt and wet hair, his anger… what was he angry about again? Surely it can’t have been that important, Sho thought wildly as Jun’s tongue stroked against his.

When Jun pulled back they were both breathing heavily.

“Still terrifying?” Jun murmured, his breath ghosting over Sho’s ear and sending a delightful shiver down his spine.

“Yes, for different reasons,” Sho said, and Jun chuckled, resting his forehead against Sho’s.

“You’re so… different, from what I expected,” Jun said after a moment. “I don’t know -- I never thought that I’d even want to spend time with you. But… I do.”

Sho brushed some dirt off the sleeve of his shirt.

“Well, that’s somewhat gratifying, I suppose. Since we’re married and all.”

“We are,” Jun agreed, stepping back. As he turned, Sho thought it looked like Jun was adjusting his trousers, and he grinned.

“I’m sorry about the stag.” He didn’t want to spoil the moment, but Sho did genuinely feel bad about ruining the hunt.

“I know. It’s all right, I was just frustrated,” Jun said with a sigh. “Game has been scarcer and scarcer of late.”

“Is something happening to them?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure,” Jun replied. He stared off into the distance for a long moment, then shook his head. Sho glanced at him; Jun looked deeply concerned. “Bloody Exiled Empire, I’m going to have to talk to the queen,” he murmured.

“The Exiled Empire?” Sho repeated. “What do they have to do with anything? Are you having border disputes or something?”

Jun shook his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t trouble yourself, this is Janisian business,” he said, sounding more like the remote Janisian prince he’d been when they’d first met.

“Of course, your highness,” Sho said. He’d learned that Jun disliked being called ‘your highness’ by Sho, probably because Sho deliberately made it sound a little smarmy. Jun might outrank him technically, but they were married, after all. He only used ‘your highness’ to irritate Jun since he’d figured it out.

Jun shot him a narrow-eyed glare but, somewhat surprisingly to Sho, didn’t rise to the bait.

They walked in silence for a few minutes; the only sound was leaves crunching beneath their feet.

Jun broke the lull in conversation first.

“Anyway, do you think you’d like to learn to shoot? I could teach you -- with targets first, not hunting, of course.”

A peace offering, Sho thought. Not that he particularly wanted to learn to hunt, but it was something.

“If you think it would be a good idea,” Sho replied.

“As long as you aren’t aiming for brilliance, I’m sure I can manage to get you to be a passable shot,” Jun said with a smirk. Sho swatted him on the arm.

The conversation didn’t stop Sho from wondering about the unrotated crops, the decrease in deer, the empty looms...

But Jun brushed his cheek with a kiss when they parted, and that distracted Sho for quite a while afterwards.

---

The following morning, Sho made his way across the rope bridge to the fir that housed Jun’s pavilion. Before they’d separated after the aborted hunt, Jun had told Sho to meet him one hour past dawn and he’d take Sho out to the the apiary. They’d always met at the stables or at the base of Sho’s tree, but Jun hadn’t mentioned where this time. Rather than waiting at the wrong place, Sho decided to go directly to Jun’s quarters.

He’d never been there but remembered Aiba pointing the pavilion out on his first day in Janisia. The memory of yesterday’s kiss still lingered. Sho found himself hoping he might get another.

The sky was brightening from early morning grey to the promise of a warm, sunny day when Sho arrived at Jun’s pavilion.

“Jun?” Sho tentatively called. A curtain of vines hung across the doorway at the end of the bridge.

No answer.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. And he couldn’t help but be a little curious to see what his husband’s living quarters were like. Sho pushed through the vine curtain and blinked.

The layout of the pavilion seemed similar to his own but the space he’d stepped into was as different as could be. Where Sho’s pavilion was plain and simple with minimal decoration, the only word Sho could find to describe Jun’s space was luxurious. Rich purple silk curtains were tied back at each pillar with heavy gold tassels, letting the early morning breeze drift through. A golden lantern swung from the thatched ceiling, scattering dots of light on the floor, which was covered with several soft mats in bright colours. There was a votive rosewood statue surrounded by fresh flowers sitting atop what appeared to be a small altar, as well as a long, low table that housed several miniature trees. A doorway hung with another silk curtain almost certainly led to Jun’s sleeping quarters. Sho was sorely tempted to sneak a look, but his better instincts kicked in. He rapped on the doorframe.

“Jun? Are you awake?”

No response.

Sho frowned. “Jun?” he called again.

Still nothing, so Sho took a deep breath and reached out to tug the curtain aside. But as soon as he touched it, a shock ran up his arm and there was sudden blaze of silvery light. Sho stumbled backwards, grabbing for the pavilion’s railing to steady himself. When his vision cleared, he saw that the curtain in the doorway to Jun’s chambers had transformed into wickedly sharp thorns.

Sho rolled his eyes.

“I guess no apiaries today,” Sho muttered and stalked back to his own quarters. He grabbed a book he’d borrowed from Janisia’s library and put a bag of Ohno’s caramel candies on top, then headed in the opposite direction of Jun’s chambers. Settling on a mossy spot under a weeping willow tree and near a bend of the stream, Sho kicked off his boots and leaned back against the trunk. He tried to let his irritation with Jun -- with his husband -- flow away.

It was much more pleasant to think about Jun’s dark hair and piercing gaze, his rare genuine smiles (as opposed to the more common smirk), the mole just below his lip, the swirl of green on the column of his neck, the feel of his mouth on Sho’s…

Sho mentally shook himself. He was still annoyed. Even if Jun was attractive. Forcing his husband from his mind, Sho opened the book and started to read.

Shaded by the fronds of the willow, listening to the stream babbling over the rocks, Sho eventually let the book slip from his fingers and closed his eyes. He was so used to being constantly working in the Red City that it was still a strange (and not altogether pleasant) feeling to not need to be anywhere or do anything.

The sun had almost reached its zenith, with spots of dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches, when Sho woke with a start and found Jun looming over him. He blinked, looked at his pocket watch, then squinted up at the sky.

“An hour past dawn, eh?” Sho said blandly, slipping the watch back in his pocket.

A muscle in Jun’s jaw twitched. He appeared torn between chagrin and annoyance.

“Should I expect a similar approach to time-keeping and appointments in future, your highness?” Sho continued, just to twist the knife a little more.

“I… dislike people intruding on my privacy,” Jun grated out. “I meant to tell you yesterday to meet me at the stables, and I didn’t expect you to come to my pavilion.”

“So you turned your curtain into thorns and shocked me to get me to leave, then sulked for several hours instead of coming to find me in a reasonable timeframe?”

Jun opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again, looking abashed. “I -- yes. Perhaps not my finest moment,” he acknowledged.

Sho raised an eyebrow. “Traditionally an apology is in order when you do someone harm.”

Jun’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Indeed. Peace offering?” He held out his hand and showed Sho two ripe peaches.

Sho made a moue, pretending to consider the peaches for a long moment and enjoying the discomfited look on Jun’s face.

“Acceptable, as long as you haven’t poisoned it or anything,” Sho said finally.

With a look of relief, Jun settled down beside him and passed one peach to Sho.

“No, I have not poisoned it. I’m fairly certain my aunt would be deeply unimpressed if I ruined her treaty by murdering my husband.”

“Just checking,” Sho said, valiantly trying to ignore the little shiver that resulted from Jun calling him his husband.

Taking a bite, Sho savoured the sweet, heady flavour of the fruit. Juice dripped down his chin, and he dug in his pocket for a handkerchief.

“Allow me.”

Sho froze as Jun reached across and swiped his thumb across Sho’s chin, a faint silver glow evaporating the sticky peach residue. The intimate touch sent a spike of desire through Sho, and he felt his cheeks heating.

“There you go,” Jun murmured, dropping his hand from Sho’s face.

Sho took another, careful bite of his peach, resolutely keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Perhaps I might show you the treasury now, instead of the apiaries?” Jun asked after a long moment.

That’s more of an apology than the peach. He’d been keen to see the Janisian treasury ever since he’d arrived, but Jun had brushed him off, citing security, then that it was too boring. Sho had let the idea go in the end, assuming Jun didn’t want him poking amongst Janisia’s records for his own reasons.

“The treasury sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Jun got to his feet while Sho put his boots back on. About to get up himself, Sho paused when Jun offered him a hand.

“I won’t give you another shock,” Jun said drily. Taking Sho’s hand, Jun pulled him upright. Sho stumbled and caught himself with his other hand on Jun’s upper arm, ending up almost nose to nose.

The electric shock wasn’t what Sho was nervous about. Was Jun’s heart beating as fast as his own? Certainly when he looked up into Jun’s eyes that gaze was intense, making Sho’s skin prickle. This close, Sho could smell that ever-present scent of pine and lavender on Jun.

Jun smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Sho’s mouth, sending a sweet shiver down his spine. Sho nearly leaned in for another, but the idea of seeing Janisia’s treasury was just too good to resist, so Sho squeezed Jun’s hand instead, then stepped reluctantly back.

“Lead the way.”

---

The treasury was located on the forest floor in one of the few buildings of stone that Sho had seen since arriving in Janisia.

“Helps to protect our most important documents,” Jun said. “Timber and reeds are our primary building material, but it’s harder to keep the temperature stable. We can use enchantment, but stone is more efficient, though it’s expensive and difficult to acquire since Janisia has no quarry.”

“You should discuss stone imports with the Red City when your next delegation visits,” Sho said. “I imagine they would be delighted to trade access to the Red City’s quarries for Janisia’s assistance in managing some blighted crop problems.”

Sho leaned against one of the desks situated at one end of the main hall of the treasury as he spoke. The hall itself was lined floor-to-ceiling with small niches, each filled with scrolls and books.

“That would be very helpful,” Jun said. “I’ll be sure to advise the queen and the delegation before they leave. Yasuda is quite skilled with crops, so I’ll see if he can go.”

Sho smiled. “So, what’s stored here?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jun groaned. “Financial records. I hate dealing with it.”

“Well, I love it,” Sho replied cheerfully and pulled out a scroll. Unrolling it, he glanced at the figures. “Silk trades! I see. Fascinating.” He pulled out another scroll and put weights on it to keep it open. “This is from about fifty years ago, yes? And I see you started another a mulberry orchard at that time, and added four more looms, so the output…” Sho trailed off, muttering under his breath.

“You know, I think I’ll leave you to it,” Jun said. “I’ll come back later this evening to collect you. Don’t go beyond the treasury though, the woods are a bit wild farther west of here.”

“Of course, I’ll be here,” Sho said absently, pulling a heavy book from one of the shelves near the floor and sneezing as dust flew up. He barely noticed as Jun squeezed his shoulder and left, closing the heavy door behind him.

As he read the reports, looking at neatly written columns of figures, Sho realised just how much he’d missed this work since arriving in Janisia. The loss of his family and friends had certainly been difficult, but the lack of work to do had almost been harder.

He soon worked out the order of the scrolls and papers, and while looking at the older records was tempting, Sho reasoned with himself that there would be plenty of time to look at the history. For now, he was more curious about Janisia’s current finances. Perhaps there was something in the numbers that would explain why Janisia had pursued the vassal agreement with the Red City.

Floating lights, much like those in the throne room, shone overhead, illuminating the ever-growing piles of parchment and vellum. The room was cool and quiet -- no one else was present -- and Sho sighed with happiness.

As he pored over scroll after scroll, Sho slowly began to notice a pattern. He squinted, flicked back through a book of accounts, and muttered to himself. He got up to stretch and spotted an abacus on one of the shelves. Bringing it back to the desk, Sho flicked the wooden beads across as he read down the lists of figures.

Leaning back in his chair, Sho frowned. He saw that Jun had left an apple, another peach, and a cloth-wrapped honeycake next to him. Sho slowly ate the apple, careful to keep the juice from dripping on the records.

Looking at the abacus again, Sho shook his head and sighed. There was no mistaking it. Resources were being diverted to the far western edge of Janisia -- the border with the Exiled Empire. The numbers were conclusive. Fewer and fewer looms operated as the weavers went west. The same for the crops and orchards: the yields steadily fell as there were fewer Janisians to sow seed and complete the harvest. A thick line was drawn through the item ‘apiary renewal’, and Sho whistled between his teeth. Janisian honey was famous, so not spending the time and gold to refresh the apiary seemed significant. Instead those funds and resources had been shifted simply to ‘western border upkeep’.

And the authorisations moving resources, changing where the gold was spent, shifting people from their regular work to the border -- most were signed ‘Matsumoto Jun’.

The floating lights brightened slowly as the sun sank lower, shadows stretching across the wooden floorboards of the treasury. Sho was so engrossed that he didn’t hear footsteps approaching, and he only realised Jun had returned when a soft kis was pressed just below Sho’s left ear, causing a delightful swoop of butterflies in his stomach.

“So, scholar husband of mine, have you had a pleasant afternoon?” Jun asked, resting his chin on Sho’s shoulder. “Truly, I find dealing with the financials an absolute nightmare, so I can’t relate, but I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Sho took a deep breath.

“Jun… what’s going on at the western border with the Exiled Empire?”

He felt Jun tense, then the warmth of his body against Sho’s shoulder fell away as Jun stepped back.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

Standing, Sho turned to face his husband. Jun crossed his arms and looked aside, unwilling to meet Sho’s eyes.

“You’ve authorised budget changes, reducing Janisia’s tradeable goods considerably. You’ve signed off on postponing the renewal of the apiaries; you’ve moved workers to the border. The population of the city in the trees has shrunk as your people go there. What’s going on?” The words tumbled out of Sho’s mouth, full of accusation. “And Jun… why am I even here?”

Jun’s face was stony. “What have you been looking at? These are just financial records -- what did you find? Have you been spying?”

Sho scoffed. “I’m not a spy, you fool. This is what my life was, back in the Red City. I spent every day in the treasury, looking at tax records, at imports and exports, managing resources.” Sho paced back and forth, and gestured at the piles of scrolls on the desk behind him. “This is what I did. Did you think I was just some soft-handed duke’s son, doing nothing but lazing about?”

Silence.

“Did you?” Sho asked again, his heart sinking.

“Yes.”

Sho flinched as if Jun had dumped another gout of icy water on him. He was frozen to the spot.

Jun’s voice was quiet but firm. “I thought you were useless. I couldn’t understand why the duke had sent you here. If he could spare you, then what value could you really be to him? To your Red City?”

“Why the -- my father sent me here because we had no choice,” Sho spluttered. “If I’d stayed, you’d have declared war on us!”

“I proposed to Queen Yonekura that we make an offer to the Red City to be a vassal state, confident that the offer would be refused. It was the queen’s suggestion to add the marriage clause, but I didn’t think it would matter.” Jun paused. “That it would be accepted.”

Sinking back into the chair, Sho stared at the floor. Useless, useless, useless, Jun’s voice echoed in his head.

“I never thought the offer would be accepted,” Jun repeated. “I assumed that the Red City would be too honourable to sacrifice their independence, and that you’d go to war with us.”

“We have no quarrel with you.”

Jun looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Why on earth would we go to war with you?” Sho continued, his voice getting louder. “We have no quarrel with Janisia, we never have.”

“I suppose… I thought you’d have more pride.”

Anger flared deep in Sho’s chest. “Pride?” he asked, incredulous. “When it comes to the safety of my family? They would have been executed, the citizens of the Red City enslaved. We wouldn’t have expected anything less from a war with anyone, including Janisia.” He rubbed his forehead. “The terms offered by Queen Yonekura were fair. They didn’t materially affect the Red City’s independence, or our economic stability -- I did the financial analysis myself.”

“So you accepted, even knowing you’d be betrothed to a stranger, stuck in a foreign land for at least a decade?”

“It was a minor sacrifice in real terms. For the safety of the Red City. Isn’t that why you’re fortifying your western border against the Exiled Empire? For the safety of your people?”

Jun ignored the pointed question. “The bethrothal was the queen’s idea,” he said again. “I never thought it would be accepted, or that I’d be saddled with a spouse.”

Sho bristled. “Saddled?”

Jun at least had the grace to look abashed. “Not saddled, no -- that was a poor choice of words. I --”

Sho got up and stalked toward Jun, pushing him back against a shelf. “I’m not useless,” he hissed. “I’m smart enough to look at your records and figure out that you’re planning to go to war with the Exiled Empire.” Sho grasped Jun’s upper arms. “Why?”

“They’re poisoning us.”

Jun’s voice was so soft Sho could barely hear it.

“Poisoning you?” he repeated.

“They’re poisoning the woods on our western border. We are tree people, you know this, but the connection is deeper than I can explain. The Red City trades with the Exiled Empire, and we needed to cut that trade off to reduce their strength.” He let out a breath. “That’s why we made the vassal offer. And expected you to refuse.”

Sho stepped back, blinking as the pieces slotted into place in his mind.

“But… you didn’t to need to conquer us, or make us a vassal state for that,” Sho said, frowning. “We don’t have a formal alliance, but you’ve had a trade presence there ever since the Red City was founded. I can’t see why you wouldn’t have simply asked us for help.”

“But you do trade with the Exiled Empire, don’t you?” Jun accused.

Sho frowned. “Well, yes. But we trade with almost every nation. And had we known that the Exiled Empire was poisoning your woods, your people, we certainly would have sanctioned them, perhaps stopped trade altogether.”

“It’s not Janisia’s way to confess weakness. You don’t understand,” Jun said, voice cold.

“No,” Sho agreed. “I don’t.”

Jun looked up at Sho, startled.

“I don’t understand at all, your highness. I thought we -- I don’t know what I thought. That we might be able to make this arranged marriage work? That I could be of some value to Janisia, that I was doing the right thing for my family? When all of this could have been avoided if you’d simply asked for help?” Fury laced Sho’s words. “You’re a damn disgrace, your highness,” Sho spat as he turned on his heel. “I’m leaving.”

“Sho -- wait, you can’t --” Jun began, but Sho resolutely ignored him. He walked down the hall quickly, then started to run as he reached the outer door. Ignoring Jun’s call of “Sho! Wait!” from behind him, he ran blindly into the trees.

Twigs caught at his hair and his shirt; Sho pushed them aside. All he could think of was the look on Jun’s face as he coolly explained why he’d turned Sho’s life upside-down. Jun had looked almost… sorry.

Useless, useless, his mind chanted in time with his pounding feet. He had to get out.

Darkness had well and truly fallen by the time Sho slowed to a walk, out of breath and sweating.

“I should have been back at the city in the trees by now,” he muttered to himself. The woods were deathly silent. The canopy grew thickly, blotting out most of the moonlight. A tendril of fear curled in his chest as Sho remembered Jun’s comment about the woods being ‘a bit wild’ in the west, and he looked around anxiously.

The path had shrunk to nothing ahead of him, but when he turned to retrace his steps, Sho bit his lip. The trail had disappeared behind as well.

“Okay. Okay, you’re all right, Sho,” he said. The sound of his voice seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. “You can do this. Jun saw you leave. He’ll find you,” Sho told himself. Willing himself to believe it, after the fight in the treasury. Surely Jun wouldn’t leave him here, useless or otherwise.

The trees seemed to be closing in on him, even as Sho turned to try and find his own footprints to follow back. But there was nothing there, just unmarked earth and moss and leaves all around.

One of the nearby trees had several low boughs that Sho could reach, and he wondered if perhaps he should try to climb, to see through the canopy and get his bearings.

“I hope Aiba’s tonic lasts a full 24 hours,” Sho said to himself, looking up at the trunk that soared into the sky.

He tentatively touched the bark and jerked back in surprise.

Instead of cold wood, the tree felt warm, almost like the shock that Jun’s curtain had given him. It was like Sho could sense the growth flowing through the trunk.

“How strange,” Sho murmured. But the tree seemed much more welcoming than its fellows, somehow, so he grasped a branch with both hands and, grunting, pulled himself upward.

Branches seemed to twist, welcoming his hands. His feet found places to go easily, with no fear of losing his footing. But it was evident by the time Sho had made his way several feet up that he wouldn’t be able to clear the canopy easily, nor get his bearings in the dark. With a sigh, Sho climbed back down, settling in at the foot of the welcoming tree to wait for rescue. It was warm against his back, and he felt oddly comfortable.

Somehow, he slept.

---

Welcome to my woods, son of the Red City Duke.

Sho looked around. Was he dreaming? He was back under the apple tree in the kitchen gardens at the Red City, a place he hadn’t seen in some time. A ripe apple fell in his lap, ruby red. Like the one Jun had given him.

I thought you might like a familiar environment.

The voice echoed in his head, but there was no one there.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Where am I?”

I am Janisia. And you are in my woods -- under one of my special trees, to be precise. Luckily the Exiled Empire’s poison hasn’t reached me here, so I am safe. And strong enough to speak to you, just.

Sho tossed the apple from hand to hand. “Are you the spirit of the woods?” he asked, thinking about his journey from the Red City. The invocation that Ninomiya and Yasuda had made to the trees to open the way. And the rosewood statue in Jun’s quarters.

Something about the presence seemed to smile.

Spirit of the woods is close enough, I suppose. The Janisians are my people, tasked with caring for the trees and plants in my woods and glades. In return, I mark them and give them a touch of my power.

“But the Exiled Empire?” He took a bite of the apple.

The power to the west. Yes. But you can help, I think.

“Me?” Sho asked. “I can’t do anything. Jun doesn’t want me here. I have no power of enchantment,” he said glumly and took another bite of the apple.

You are mistaken. You are wise with numbers and can help my people manage the stewardship of my woods while fighting back against the Exiled Empire. But you are also in a position to be able to influence your home city-state.

“Influence?”

Be an ambassador, Sakurai Sho. Build a stronger bridge between our two countries. And work with -- stay with -- his royal highness. You are more powerful together.

“But… how, what will I --” Sho stammered.

Stay, son of the Red City Duke.

And they were gone.

---

He’d only seemed to rest his head against the trunk for a moment when he woke.

“Sho! Sho! Wake up!”

Sho blinked blearily and yawned. Crouched on the forest floor in front of him was Jun, who shook Sho’s shoulders, looking terrified. The sky was still dark, but the stars were winking out slowly as the sun began to creep over the horizon.

“Jun?” Sho said with another yawn. His back ached and he felt a little stiff. Overall, however, Sho was surprised at how fine he felt.

“Oh, thank Janisia, you’re all right. Come on, we have to get out of here,” Jun said, eyes darting nervously from side to side. “You’re lucky to be alive, honestly.”

Jun yanked Sho to his feet and brushed the leaves and bark from Sho’s shoulders.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about, I’m fine,” Sho said, giving Jun a mulish look. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened at the treasury.”

“We can discuss that later.” He grasped Sho’s wrist with one hand; the other he held palm up, silver light spilling from his fingers and illuminating a narrow, twisting path. “Let’s go.”

Giving the tree a grateful look over his shoulder, Sho mouthed “thank you”.

---

The walk back to the city in the trees was tense. Jun dropped Sho’s wrist, leaving him to follow close behind until they made it back to the main path and could walk side by side.

Sho eyed Jun out of the corner of his eye. Jun stared at the ground.

“What do you mean, I’m lucky to be alive?” Sho asked finally. It didn’t seem like the right moment to broach the topic of their argument at the treasury.

Not meeting Sho’s gaze, Jun continued to walk, looking with great interest at his feet.

“Jun? What did you mean?” Sho prompted.

Jun let out an exasperated sigh. “The woods are our home, but there are sections -- including the part you blundered into -- that are sacred to the spirit of our forest, Janisia. We don’t go there often, except to make offerings, keeping the edges wild for them. The spirit is… it’s difficult to describe. They might have attacked you for not being Janisian. I’m not sure.”

Pausing, Jun stopped and put out a hand to grasp Sho’s shoulder. “The spirit is the essence of the wildness and power of the forest,” he said softly. “Our powers of enchantment, our longevity, all of this derives from Janisia. The Exiled Empire are trying to wipe us -- and the spirit -- out.”

Sho nodded. “That’s what Janisia said,” he agreed.

Jun’s eyes grew wide, and his hand fell from Sho’s shoulder.

“Janisia spoke to you,” he said. “They spoke to you.”

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Sho nodded again. “Yep.”

“But… I don’t understand,” Jun muttered. “They hardly ever speak to us directly.”

“Well, they did. It was strange, they suggested that I be an ambassador. To build a bridge between our countries.”

Jun stopped short, and Sho almost crashed into him, smelling the ever-present scent of pine and lavender again.

“An ambassador,” Jun said. “Perhaps… yes. You could advocate for the Red City to stop trading with the Exiled Empire, now that you know of our plight,” Jun said, excitement tinging his voice.

Mulling it over, Sho nodded slowly. “I could, perhaps. My father respected my counsel before; I don’t see why he wouldn’t still do so.”

They started to walk again. Jun seemed pensive, fiddling with his rings.

The silence stretched out.

“I’m sorry,” Jun said softly.

“It’s alright,” Sho began, but Jun shook his head.

“I’m sorry for not asking the Red City for help. We could have avoided you being stuck here with me.”

They started walking again, Jun’s words of apology hanging in the air.

“I don’t -- I don’t regret it.”

Sho’s voice was quiet, and he wasn’t sure if Jun heard him.

“I don’t regret being here,” Sho said, louder this time.

A moment later, Jun’s hand found his, fingers tangling together as they walked. Out of the corner of his eye, Sho could see the tell-tale blush on Jun’s cheeks.

“I don’t regret it either,” Jun replied, squeezing his hand. “I’m… I’m glad you’re here.”

---

“An ambassador?” Queen Yonekura raised an eyebrow. “A formal alliance between the Red City and Janisia?”

She levelled a gaze at Sho, who blushed. The queen looked even more magnificent today than she had when they’d first met, clad in a dress of richly embroidered green silk and a robe of gold, beaded heavily at the neckline and hem. The beads almost seemed to move under the sparkling lights that floated at the ceiling of the throne room.

“Yes, your majesty. His royal highness --” at this, Jun gave him a look that managed to be both annoyed and fond, “suggested it as a way to provide me with a formal role in Janisia, as well as strengthen the diplomatic ties between our countries. I would be in a unique position to influence a reduction or even a complete stop in trade with the Exiled Empire, given my knowledge of your country. And if the Exiled Empire defeated Janisia, it’s highly likely that the Red City would fall eventually as well.”

“Indeed,” murmured the queen. “Having you as an envoy is an exciting prospect that may prove to be Janisia’s salvation.” She paused. “But you now have a choice to make, son of the Red City Duke.”

Aiba appeared from behind the throne, holding a tray with a piece of parchment, an inkpot, and a quill.

“In changing your status from a vassal representative to an ambassador, I wonder whether or not you want to remain tied to Prince Jun in marriage.”

The bottom dropped out of Sho’s stomach, and he stole a look at Jun, who for his part just stared at the wall, his face as remote as it had been when they’d first met.

“Dissolve the marriage?” His voice sounded tinny and far away to his own ears.

“I know you didn’t want this,” Queen Yonekura said gently. “We could amend the treaty conditions -- they were my idea, after all, in the hope of avoiding a declaration of war on the Red City,” she continued, shooting a glare at Jun, who made a face.

“Yes, yes, you were right, I was wrong, your majesty,” he said, folding his arms.

“And don’t you forget it,” the queen snapped, but she was smiling.

Sho barely heard them bickering. He could go home, back to his family, to Ueda and Mai and Ohno, to his old life. If he wanted to.

Stay, son of the Red City Duke. Janisia’s plea echoed in his mind.

I don’t regret it either, Jun had said to him as they’d walked back to the city in the trees.

Sho bit his lip. He recalled Jun’s fingers caressing his cheek, the kiss after the failed hunt, and Jun’s look of terror when he’d found Sho in the wilds of Janisia’s forests.

I’m glad you’re here.

“I’ll stay,” Sho whispered.

Jun turned to face him, and his eyes were shining with hope.

“Say it again.”

Smiling widely, Sho stepped toward Aiba and picked up the inkpot. With a flick of his wrist, Sho poured the contents all over the amended treaty. Ink splashed on his hands and dripped on the tray, but Sho didn’t care. Jun took a great stride forward and took Sho’s hands in his own, apparently unbothered by the ink all over Sho’s hands that now stained his own.

Warmth flooded Sho from head to toe.

“Your highness,” Sho said with a grin. Jun rolled his eyes but he was smiling just as widely.

“I’ll stay here. With you.”

~ fin ~