There is a knock on the door of your study before a fidgety, nervous girl appears. It is one of the younger maids, her head is hung low. “My Lady, please pardon the interruption. I have come to inform you that Young Mistress Ayaka has requested your presence in the tea room. She is waiting.” You ignore the quiet stutters and stumble with words, gently nodding in response. Yes, your smile was of hesitation, but you managed—forcing it out.

Earlier today, Ayaka had come back to Inazuma for a short layover before continuing her travels. Yes, it was a bit puzzling on why you seemed much more enthralled to meet the sister of your husband rather than himself—but she was a kind soul. Somebody so pure it eased worries instantly.

For you and Ayato to stand side by side without any intermissions had to come with requirements. Firstly, he should not be busy. Second, he should not be tired. Third, you should be less hostile towards him. Those conditions, you hypothesize, could only happen once the first batch of pigs could fly.

Shortly after you arrive, the door is opened, revealing a spacious, inner courtyard with pane walls and a glass dome for a roof. Along golden striated rays of sun, there are also vines that trail the light, drooping over a small table where she sits. Or so you assumed.

“Kamisato Ayak—”

You call out for the old friend, not noticing it was in fact not her, but instead, Ayato Kamisato; her older brother.

“Good afternoon to you too.” He greets, his charming smile absent, though the the princely elegance he used everywhere never wavered. He takes one good look at your expression to figure out you were upset, something that irked you to the point you couldn't explain why.

“I'm sorry, were you expecting my sister?”

“Yes. I was.”

He sighs, standing up to delicately pull out a chair for you. You sit, although you thought about turning around and leaving. Marriage between clans was usually made for good terms, purely political, so you didn't expect your relationship with him to be entirely textbook perfect.

“Well I apologize for being the genesis of your disappointment.” Ayato hums, pouring some tea in your cup. You weren't sure if he was mad or not, he understood you were a blunt, honest woman—he just wished you tried to be a little nicer to him. The liquid riveted, a sheer brown with beautiful catch lights from the sun's glowering glare. You take the time to look at him clearly, the brush of his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes, the pursing of his lips. The way he clenched his jaw subtly. You don't peel your gaze away from his face, pondering how somebody could possess such ethereal pulchritude.

You had felt it was partly your fault why you two drifted apart. The idea of warming up to him was not a banquet you could stomach nor had interest in partaking in. You refused any of his affection, turned a blind eye to his attention seeking ways—finding his excitement to be a hassle. He saw this, yet he persevered in hopes he could break down the walls that surrounded you.

But as much as he was patriotic, Ayato wasn't a saint. The days turned bleak, then came forth a slow mutual understanding that something changed entirely between the both of you. That the marriage was falling apart way before the contract could expire.