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The first time Viole voluntarily joins Wangnan during one of his marketplace rendezvous, Wangnan is visibly thrilled. Viole has been going with him only out of obligation for some months now - but now, oh but now, he finds himself charmed by the activity.
Viole hadn’t grown up in a proper town. Whether he’d grown up properly at all is still something he questions. He remembers dull lights, dirt under his fingernails, a glint of gold, and a deeply-seeded feeling of betrayal.
From there, he only remembers the Guild. Said Guild prioritizes isolation in their training, so Viole’s experience with people is - limited - to say the least.
This makes the marketplace a little square of wonder. Wangnan complains frequently about the state of their fair kingdom - the nobles seething at the power they possess, clamoring day after day for the king to relinquish some modicum of control.
It has yet to happen. Wangnan grows more tightly-wound with every passing day - but this town, this blessed town, seems to lighten that load.
Viole understands why. The towns main square is bustling with activity from sundown to sunup - the bakers are active in the early light, then the fruit-sellers, then the jewelers and craftsman fill the booths. When he and Wangnan go, it is either early in the morning or in the late evening.
Wangnan says its to be inconspicuous. Viole knows its because he likes the rosemary bread sold by the widow on the fourth corner, and that his favorite jeweler emerges only when sunset first begins.
Viole has learned these things quite well.
His favorite time to attend the town, he’s found, is when the sun is high. It’s excruciatingly warm but with the sun means the kids emerge, and Viole has not heard enough laughter in his life.
There is one group in particular that always plays in the center of it all. They have a strange game of run-and-chase that always results in one tackling the other, then the whole lot of them leaping to join.
Often, they laugh so hard they can’t stand again, too busy choking on dust and giddily pushing at each other’s hands.
It reminds Viole of… something. He doesn’t know what, not yet, but it burns into his chest the way all feelings associated with the time before do.
Sometimes, he imagines a flash of blue hair and the mischievous laughter of a girl with golden eyes.
Then he gets a headache, and has to turn away before the thoughts make him nauseous.
Before, when Viole came to the market only out of duty, he stayed by Wangnan’s side the entire time. Well, sometimes he drifted, watching from the rooftops - but still, Wangnan never left his sights.
This time, Wangnan has told him to enjoy himself .
So, Viole is standing listlessly on some corner with not a single idea what to do.
Wangnan has gone… somewhere. He told Viole not to worry, and that he was seeing a friend (Viole thinks he’s visiting the restaurant - the one he always stares at), and that he would be absolutely one hundred percent safe.
Viole does not technically believe him, but he is willing to give Wangnan the benefit of the doubt just this once. He is fitted with a blade Viole knows he can use efficiently, and that will have to be enough.
Viole is still at a loss.
The market is a large, overbearing place. You could spend hours perusing a line of booths and still feel unsatisfied with your search - there is so much to see.
This is why Viole sticks with Wangnan. He knows what he likes, he comes to the market knowing what he wants to pick through - all Viole has to do is follow.
Now, he’s tense and unsure. No one is specifically promoting their wares toward him - likely because he looks severely unapproachable - but he’s almost hoping for it now.
More minutes pass.
He gets antsy, stepping forward and turning sharply. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, something is bound to catch his eye eventually.
To his surprise, what ends up capturing his attention is a cool hand curled around his wrist. He whips around instinctively, a snarl curling his lips, but the woman standing before him has an amicable smile and an amused eye.
He falters.
Her smile grows. There is nothing malicious in her expression, but her very presence is unsettling. Viole feels like he is trying to stare at her through broken glass - her hair is a vibrant red, her one visible eye replicating the shade.
She is adorned in dark robes, the whole of her nearly covered, and it is only because of the way she grips his wrist that he sees the paleness of her arm.
His stomach twists with a confused familiarity. He knows this woman.
“Jue Viole Grace,” she murmurs, voice tantalizingly soft. His entire body seizes up and it takes every ounce of effort to not flinch away. He must remain inconspicuous.
“Witch,” he says, it is not a question. He knows a witch when he sees one - when he feels one. Attempting to pin down a witch is as effective as mixing water and oil. They are always flitting out of view, stare as you might.
Her smile widens and he is struck with dizziness.
“Something like that,” she is inscrutable, tugging on his hand. “Come with me, Jue Viole Grace. I would be honored to Read you.”
He deeply wants to deny her, but finds himself being dragged into a nearby tent instead. It is a very simple structure, lit with only two candles and decorated with a single table and two cushions. There are two cups sitting on the table, filled with steaming tea.
He pauses temporarily. She was waiting for him.
She gestures that he sit, and he does. He sets his sword to the side, leaving it within reach, and she notices with an amused chuckle. She says nothing about it.
Instead, she sits on her side of the table, pushing her own cup of tea aside before stretching her hands out.
“With me, if you wouldn’t mind.”
He doesn’t think he has much of a choice. With great hesitation, he rests his hands in hers. Her fingers close around his as her eyes flicker shut.
Then there is only silence and their mutual breathing.
He wonders, distantly, if Wangnan is having any success. He knows there was something in particular Wangnan wanted to purchase today - but he wouldn’t tell Viole what it was. So, he’s left to wonder.
He isn’t sure how much time passes before the witch’s eyes open once more. She gives Viole a long, bemused look - and it ends with her flashing a smile, pushing his cup toward him with a small nudge.
He takes it. It’s still pleasantly warm. When he sips, it’s deliciously spiced. He hums his approval and she smirks, sipping at her own.
“So?” He finally asks, because he might as well know. “What did you read?”
“You,” she says, musing, “are destined for a great many things. This world will bless you, perhaps it already has.”
“I imagine it has,” is his noncommittal response, but his mind turns to Wangnan. She smiles like she knows.
“It may also curse you,” here, she reaches forward. Her fingertips are delicate when they trace the edge of his jaw. In their touch is an abundance of sympathy, and Viole’s heart aches with a loss yet to come. “You, boy, are destined for infinite sadness.”
Ah, well. Viole closes his eyes with preemptive despair, feeling it trickle into his skin from where she touches him.
Viole believes there are a great many things in life - for good and for ill. He also believes his purpose is to take the latter and pump out the former for those around him. It is how he’s always been.
He thinks of yellow hair and a shriek in the night. Yes, infinite sadness and blessings from the world. He thinks he is there already.
“In my professional opinion,” her hand drops from his face, “all is not lost. Perhaps, you should stop and smell the flowers. They may teach you something.”
He frowns at her and stands abruptly.
“I cannot imagine that aiding me greatly,” because he doesn’t want to believe her. Not really. It is a daunting thing, to have a destiny.
She smiles at him warmly. With more fondness than he expects, honestly. There is another strike of familiarity in his gut but - why?
“You will just have to see, won’t you? Now go. Your prince awaits.”
He doesn’t bother to get defensive or to ask her how she knows. He clips his sword back to his person and bows to her sharply, emerging from the tent feeling like a maelstrom.
He walks directly into a warm, familiar body.
Wangnan startles, but he is smiling at Viole near instantly - relaxing with the recognition. His eyes flash to the tent behind him and he raises an eyebrow, surprised.
“I didn’t take you for a believer, Viole.” He is nonjudgmental - curious, even. Viole does not want to deal with his prince insisting on having a turn, so he grabs Wangnan by the elbow and begins to direct him toward the castle. Wangnan lets him, amused.
“She caught my attention,” is his careful response. It wasn’t even a lie. Wangnan hums, eyeing Viole skeptically, but he nods.
“Well, I am pleased you found something to do. I began to - ah, well, I felt bad for leaving you.” Wangnan looks strangely bashful, hand raising to rub at the back of his neck. A stupidly endearing habit of his.
Viole softens at the sight of it.
“It was no trouble,” his tone is flagrantly fond, but Wangnan doesn’t notice. If anything, he winces. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Wangnan looks disappointed and Viole assumes his answer. His short no only confirms it.
“I just didn’t - I thought I knew what to get but I began to overthink it.” He complains, still walking near Viole’s side. Viole is still holding his elbow. Neither of them say anything.
“Maybe next time.” He offers, and Wangnan’s lips quirk.
“Maybe.”
Wangnan opens his mouth to speak more, but Viole’s attention is quickly drawn away. A bed of flowers lining their way. Meticulously cared for - blossoming under the shine of the sun.
Jasmines, he thinks. A rush of pretty white, clean and undisturbed. Without thinking about it, he steps away and leans down.
They smell… nice. Sweet and soft. Distinctly floral. They smell like flowers. Viole leans away and tries not to make his disappointment clear. When he turns, Wangnan is staring at him.
There is a flush tinting his ears pink. Viole isn’t sure why. He tilts his head.
“Do… you like flowers, Viole?” He asks, blinking rapidly. Viole shrugs.
“They’re nice,” is all he offers, which is a rather standard response for him, and Wangnan nods rapidly.
“They are, aren’t they? Hey, would you mind going ahead?” He reaches out to nudge Viole’s shoulder, prodding him along. “I’ll catch up, okay? Promise.”
Viole hesitates, but nods. He’s getting better about letting Wangnan drift off - plus, Wangnan looks… strangely excited, so, who is Viole to say no?
“I will wait for you at the entrance.”
“Great! Great. Go now.”
Wangnan shoos him away with an utter lack of dignity and Viole thinks, cruelly, that someone ought to inform his ettiequte professor of his behavior.
Well, he’d leave that to Ser Akraptor. He always seems to enjoy causing Wangnan grief.
With a final nod, Viole departs down the road, listening intently just in case. There is nothing but the sound of Wangnan rustling around.
Hardly the strangest thing he’s ever done.
When he skips back into view, his hands are empty but he’s smiling brightly. He gives Viole a wink before he’s hoisting himself over the wall back into castle grounds, and Viole can only huff with exasperation as he follows.
Later, when Viole turns into his room to rest, he will glance at his nightstand and freeze. Arranged exquisitely in a plain vase is a bundle of flowers - white jasmine - slowly oozing their aroma into his closed quarters.
After a long moment, he blinks.
Then, he thinks strongly of blessings, and he stays hung up on them for the rest of the night.