Yes, I'm back to writing (ish). Me has missed it a lot while being stuck in bed for three months. Booooring. Yes, I sound like a five year old, so I shall officially slap myself in the head with a wet fish and stop wasting time here. Enjoy le story (prompt #12 Wonder, find la table on my livejournal).
No one has ever thrown themselves at me, at least not literally. I am told that multitudes of women have come to the palace to join my seraglio, but I've never been interested in them. I have seen many beautiful women throughout the palace, who stare at me hopefully when they think that my gaze is averted but turn their eyes down demurely if I look straight at them. How could any man be expected to live with such a woman as a wife? Their mannerisms are all the same, as if they studied a textbook on how one should attract the emperor's favour. If I were to choose one of them, it would be like choosing all of them at the same time and yet there would be barely enough personality to make a whole person.
Miaka has more character than any woman I've ever encountered, and I'm sure that she's as strong a woman as even my mother was. I find myself wondering – hoping, praying, but not quite allowing myself to believe – as I have many times already, if she could be the Priestess of Suzaku. She is just how I have always imagined the Priestess to be.
I am not sure what exactly I thought her reason was for throwing herself towards me, but it certainly wasn't this. If I had not been taught how to withhold any sign of embarrassment – not, of course, that I ever need to use that knowledge – I am sure I would have blushed. I am as surprised at Miaka's sudden, hands-on exploration of my chest as the watching guards, but I enjoy it rather more than they do.
For I have realised that my hopes have been realised. No other woman than the Priestess could make my heart pound so wondrously strongly. I wonder how long it will take for her to feel the same way about me. But I know it will happen.