Author's Note: It was once suggested that I write an Okita/Shousha & Saitou/Tokio fic in a fairy tale universe. I gave that thought a thumbs up, but tucked it away. I have so many fics started, I can't possibly do another, right? RIGHT? Well, you all should know me by now. I don't even have excuses anymore.

Well here's what happened. I was minding my own business, making pigs in a blanket and doing some dishes before we left for a Memorial Day picnic at my sister-in-law's house. And then, well, this story sort of, as my fiancee put it, assembled itself in my brain. Yep. So, here it is.

Like Fine Lines, this is my take on a really popular subject. The fact that it isn't KenKao or BattouKao makes me feel a little better about thinking it into existence.

Everyone still with me? I hope so. I really so appreciate everyone who reads about the tomfoolery that goes on up in my head. :Dd I see you in my stats, even the quiet ones, so, thanks all. :D :D

This is for you, cassowary.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

I

"My apologies, your highness, but there is nothing I can do."

Though she tried to appear calm and reserved, Yamata Shousha's mouth betrayed her. At first, it twitched, poker face flickering into a frown, but then it opened, and before she could think better of it, words spilled forth.

"You are wisest man in our land!" she shouted, rising from her seat, "how dare you stand there and tell me there is nothing you can do! Give me your wisdom! Give me your knowledge!"

The old man before her bowed, looking up at her pleadingly. "My princess, I have never seen this before. I can not tell you how to cure it."

She dismissed him with a curse and when she sat down, chest heaving, a large hand came to rest on her own trembling fingers.

"My love," came the gentle voice of a man.

With a sigh, she shook her head and looked to her left where she met the warm, sympathetic gaze of her intended. There he stood, strong and proud, his black hair gleaming in the light and brown eyes glimmering with hope that she couldn't find in herself.

"Oh Kogoro," she breathed, allowing him to kiss the side of her face tenderly, "we'll never find a cure."

Katsura Kogoro, a Duke as his father before him and his father before him, was not a man to give up so easily. Chuckling, he stepped back and offered his hand to her.

"Come. We'll have some supper."

Shousha sent him a doubtful glance, but he smiled reassuringly and through her frustrations, her resolve melted. Checking to see that all of the pins were still keeping her ebon locks in place, lest her maid give her a scolding, she gave him a watery smile and allowed him to lead her down from her throne, and off into the dining room.

Dinner was silent. She hadn't had an appetite in days. He told her that everything would be alright, that amidst the chaos of life, a solution would come forth and they would look fondly on their troubles in ten or twenty years, but Shousha couldn't find it in herself to think that way.

The king was dying. Her father was dying.

He wasn't her father, not by blood. Her real father, the king before him, had been a monster of a man, a tyrant and a burden upon his own kingdom. Together with his wife he had taken out his drunken frustrations on his young daughter, constantly punishing her for the wrongdoings of everyone else from his advisor to the lowly stable boy.

The day she had tossed dirt onto his casket was the first day that Shousha had smiled.

In a world where women did not rule without men, the queen remarried immediately, this time to a man whose love knew no bounds. It was a horrible arrangement, as the queen was very much like her late husband, and did not deserve such a match, but this man, Takagi Kojuro, was the king's half brother, their father's bastard child, and the only male relation left to claim the throne.

He had a daughter of his own, a little whirlwind of a child, with brilliant grey eyes and untamable black curls. Her mother had passed on during childbirth and without a woman's care or proper living conditions (courtesy of the king), she was every bit as wild as her appearance.

She and Shousha became friends immediately.

After Kojuro had risen to power, the kingdom thrived and the castle felt alive. He was a jovial man, finding any reason to celebrate, yet careful with his spending. He raised Shousha as his daughter, protecting her from the physical abuse of her mother, and though his own child, Tokio, was never granted the title of princess, no one paid much attention to this. She was royalty in the eyes of everyone, except for the queen, Kanako, who, now married to Kojuro, held very little authority over her.

For fifteen years, life was perfect.

"What did the wise man say?"

Shousha looked up from swirling her peas around, to the face of her step-sister, etched with worry. She knew the answer.

"The same thing that the priests said," Shousha replied glumly, "and the medicine man, and the magic man, and all the other men that have come here."

Tokio let out a frustrated grunt, stabbing her roll with her knife. "Because they're men," she huffed, swinging around the impaled bread threateningly. "I bet if we got a medicine woman in here she'd be able to help."

"There aren't any medicine women, Tokio," Shousha reminded her, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms.

No, there weren't. Shousha's true father had banned any woman from practicing any sort of profession that didn't involve becoming a slave to a man in one fashion or another. Kojuro had promptly reversed this decree, but by that time the educated women had died out and whatever females were interested in taking up those positions again did not yet hold the skills that their male teachers possessed.

"There just... there has to be something," Shousha said through grit teeth, trying to keep her tears at bay. "We can't just sit here and watch him die."

"We're not going to let him die," Tokio said resolutely. "He's our father. He promised us that he'd be there on both of our wedding days. Yours might be coming up soon, but mine isn't. I'm going to hold him to his promise."

Tokio was significantly stronger than Shousha was. No matter how dire a situation, when Shousha sank down into a puddle of satin and tears, Tokio simply clenched her lace covered fists and punched life in the face.

Katsura sat watching the two women. He had learned long ago not to come between Shousha and her emotions, particularly when she was expressing them. Eventually she would exhaust herself with anger and retire for the night. He never worried about Tokio. He admired her greatly and was thankful that Shousha had her to depend on.

He respected the sadness that weight on their shoulders, but he would willingly admit that he didn't understand it. His parents had been friendly with each other; his mother had certainly been more eager to serve his father than Kanako had ever been Kojuro, but as amiable as they had been with each other, they were courtiers and people with such a title did not have the time to tend to children.

So he had grown up living his own life as a child and his parents had lived theirs as adults. When they crossed paths, it was not for a romp in the field or a bedtime story, but to report the status of his schooling, his marks, or to confess that he had spilt ink on his mother's newest gown and that he would rectify the situation immediately.

He became a man and was immediately welcomed into their circle. They both died and he felt a respectful amount of remorse before moving on with his life. That was just how it was.

When the princess fell in love with him, his views became slightly blurred, his confidence in who he was shaken, though he never showed it. When he fell in love with her in return, both rightened themselves, but he found that his new ideals and self assurance were quite different from the indifferent young heir he had been before.

Maybe, just maybe, if he were to have children, he could find time to be with them. To love them.

"I'm going to bed," Shousha said finally, pushing her plate away from her, "tell mother to rot in Hell."

Tokio grinned at this, holding up her knife again. "Shall I send her there myself?"

Katsura sent her warning glance, but Shousha smiled. "Don't you dare, sister. That's my kill."

Stabbing the utensil into the wooden table, Tokio frowned. "Damn your birthright."

Hours passed. Shousha couldn't sleep. She hadn't slept properly all week. There was a stinging fear in the pit of her stomach that if she closed her eyes for too long, her father would slip into death's embrace. She had to stay awake and alert, even though both her mind and body begged for rest.

Spring was ending, pulling Summer in from it's long hibernation and with it, crickets, frogs, and other various animals to serenade those who chose not to let sleep claim them in the late hours of the night.

Slipping out from under her covers, Shousha pulled on a light robe and stole out of her bedroom, hurrying down the hall. There had been no hope for days, but there was one person, one forbidden road that they could travel.

She knocked lightly on Tokio's door, but the light leaking out from under the door gave her sister away.

When Shousha closed the door behind her, Toko turned from her place at the writing desk and gave her a shrug.

"Tokio. I have an idea."

There was an unusual look in Shousha's deep chocolate eyes, Tokio noticed. She always held an air of haughtiness and a spark of mischief, but tonight, she was positively glowing with ambition. Dangerous ambition.

Tokio was intrigued.

"Sit, sit!" she whispered, jumping onto the bed and patting the mattress for her sister to join her. Shousha complied, hitching up the skirt of her pale blue nightdress and crossing her legs in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

"Alright," she breathed. "I know that it's forbidden and I know that father will have our heads once he finds out, but it's the only choice we have."

"What is?" Tokio asked, leaning forward in anticipation, "If there's any chance to save Papa we have to take it!"

"Will you accept the lashings that Kanako will give us both for our disobedience and," she swallowed, "treason."

Tokio's eyes grew wide. "Treason? How are we to save father if we have to turn against him in order to do so?"

Shousha held up a pinky finger, her mouth set in a solemn line, but her eyes still danced with excitement, "Will you?"

With a nod, Tokio hooked her pinky onto her sister's.

"The witch."

Hands flying to cover her scream, Tokio's eyes flashed with panic and she began to shake her head.

"No. No."

"Tokio. We have to."

She knew this. Shousha was right. They would have to turn to black magic. If healing magic couldn't help, if the purest prayer left them with nothing, then what choice did they have but to cling to the very last sliver of hope they had?

Kojuro had forbidden black magic, driving all those who practiced its art from his kingdom. The wicked sorcery had brought death and destruction upon his people and he would not see his land fall apart at the hands of evildoers.

There was, however, one woman, one last witch who had stayed behind. Disguised as an elderly shepherdess, she was available to all those who knew where to find her. Shousha had made a point of acquiring her whereabouts at a very early age.

So, dressed in their plainest clothing, the two daughters of the king stole away in the middle of the night to hunt out the witch.

"Impossible."

Seated before the shepherdess in a rotting barn, Tokio and Shousha told her of their troubles and their desire for her gifts.

"What do you mean, 'impossible'?" Tokio demanded, swatting a bat away from her hair, "you are the only witch left! You evaded my father's hunters! You are the most powerful being in this land."

"What do you want?" Shousha asked, pleading, "any sum of money, any amount of freedom, please ask and you shall receive. Once my father is cured he will exalt you! I swear it!"

But the witch held up her hand, weathered by years of tending to her herd. "It is not impossible because I hold ill will against the man who saw fit to have my head on a pike," she snapped. "It is impossible because this ailment was not caused by dark magic, therefore I cannot reverse it, and it was not caused by nature, therefore I cannot destroy it."

Both girls sat perfectly still.

"What do you mean?" Shousha asked, voice trembling,

"What I mean," she said stiffly, pulling out a shimmering dagger and holding it up in the light of the solitary candle that gave light to the damp darkness of the barn, "is that your father was poisoned."

"Poisoned," echoed Tokio dully. Who would poison the king? He was loved by all.

"That's what I said, girl," replied the witch, throwing the knife across the barn, ending the flight of two bats with a hard thud as the tip of the dagger embedded itself into the wood of a stable.

Shousha watched the two creatures struggle for a few seconds before giving themselves to death.

"Of course," she whispered.

Tokio looked over at her, giving her shoulders a light shake. "Hey, what do you mean?"

Shousha swiveled on the pail she was using for a chair. "Don't you see? Kogoro and I are about to be married. Once he is my husband, he will have a claim on the throne."

Her sister shrugged, "Well yeah, that's how it works. You don't think that he would have poisoned father, do you?"

Surprise and hurt flashed across Shousha's face for a moment before she dismissed the accusation. "Of course not! He would never. However, imagine what would happen if father died tonight, and tomorrow mother married again, this time, a young, naive, and impressionable man."

Tokio's mouth fell open. It wasn't an unreasonable thought. Kanako had ruled alongside Shousha's father, Mori because they were both selfish and sadistic people. She had married Kojuro because he held claim to the throne by birth.

But Kojuro had not been so willing to let her bring her diabolical schemes to fruition. After fifteen years, with her daughter ready to marry, she was becoming desperate. Katsura was a man with his own ideals, and a clear and level headed way of thinking. He, too, was gentle and kind and would not bend to her wishes.

If Katsura became rightful heir before she secured her own young king, the kingdom would be lost to her forever.

"Greed destroys the hearts of men," said the witch, "but will overtake the soul of a woman completely."

Now lightheaded, Shousha turned up her palms. "What can we do? Can't you kill my mother?"

But Tokio shook her head. "Shou, we would both be executed for treason."

"I always swore I would end her!" she protested, "even you talk about it."

"There is one thing you can do."

The girls paused.

Taking up her seat across from them, the witch covered her face with a tattered veil and, leaning forward, blew out the candle and lowered her voice.

Hearts pounding, Tokio and Shousha tilted their bodies towards her, praying they would be able to hear her.

"There are two princes far off to the west. If you are willing to sacrifice your very souls to free your father of his death sentence, they may be able to help you."

"There are no princes to the west that we wouldn't already know," Tokio said doubtfully, "We know of every prince within a month's travel."

"Stupid girl," hissed the shepherdess, "you know of these princes. You just don't believe they exist."

Crossing her arms, she sent a challenging glare through the darkness. "Don't play coy with us, witch. We came to you for help, but we can also have you arrested."

The frigid grip that she wrapped around each of their wrists then caused a most haunting chill to crawl up each of their spines.

"The wolf princes," the witch growled, "a day's travel to the West. They will be expecting you now. The path will show itself."

Shoving the two girls to the ground, she stood and yanked her knife from the stable, catching the two dead bats with one hand.

Shaking, Shousha stood, offering her hand to her sister.

"What do you require for payment for this information?" she asked timidly, reaching into her traveling cloak for the pouch of gold she had brought with her.

Not turning to face them, the witch squeezed one of the flying mammals, watching with little expression as blood squirted out in a steady stream downwards and into a feeding trough.

"Payment to me is not necessary. It is doubtful you will have anything left after the princes are through with you."

xxxx

Saitou Hajime sat at the desk in his study, reviewing the week's ledger. It was habit. Nothing ever changed, nothing ever would, but he was not the type of man who could just sit and do nothing. He needed to attend to tasks, no matter how menial they were. He needed to do something with purpose.

Running a hand over the soft leather of a mask that covered the left half of his face, he continued to copy the numbers from last week's column into this week's.

Movement in the corner of the study halted this process. Lifting his head from his work, his golden eyes fell on his younger brother, Okita Soushi, seated in a leather armchair, reading a book. His black hair was pulled, just as Saitou's was, into a small tail at the nape of his neck, secured with a black ribbon. Yet another one of life's unchanging features.

Okita always joined Saitou in his study when there was work to be done. Okita himself didn't bother with numbers. It wasn't that he hadn't a gift for them (there wasn't much he didn't have a gift for), they just bored him. He much preferred written work, particularly fiction, where he could dive into someone else's world and for a time, be a part of it.

This was all very normal for the two brothers and typically, Saitou was able to get all of his work done undisturbed. There were sometimes, such as today, where Okita would pause, lift his gloved hand to the leather patch covering his right eye, concentrate for a moment, and then resume his reading.

"What is it saying?"

Okita looked up. He knew it was only a matter of time before his brother questioned him.

"There are girls coming," he replied cheerfully, "two girls."

Saitou raised a brow, but remained otherwise unimpressed. "It has been some time since we have been graced by females. What does their blood look like?"

Okita thought for a moment, focusing all of his attention on the vision that his patched eye gave him.

"Royal," he replied finally, "two princesses. One of them is royalty by birth and the other is difficult to read."

Difficult to read meant dirty. Saitou didn't like dirty.

"You know, Haji," Okita began, throwing his booted feet up onto the arm of the chair he was sitting in, "you should let me play with them this time."

"And why would I do that?" he murmured, returning to his work.

Okita sighed, smiling as he admired the leather of his black gloves, and the way the white lace of the sleeve that poked out from his jacket contrasted against it.

"Because you always get to meet them first. Girls like me. I think they'd respond much better to our conditions if I were to propose them."

Slamming the ledger closed, Saitou stood, palms landing forcefully on the wood of the desktop.

"You know very well why I have to deal with the wretches."

Leaning back in the chair and grinning back at his brother, Okita let out a small whine. "Yeah I know but-"

"If a woman can not see me as a human being," Saitou interrupted sharply, his wolfish oculars bearing into the one round boyish brown one that his brother sported, "then what hope is there for you?"

Without another word, he swept from the room, leaving his brother alone with his fairy tales.

xxxx

Author's Notes: Awwwww yeah. Fricka Fricka fairy tale. I don't have this totally fleshed out yet, but I will be doing something that is totally new, and pretty weird (for readers of my other ish) so bear with me on this one here.