She sucks in her breath and counts down from ten. Ten. Ten, ten, ten, one.
Kougyoku is ten when the last of her sisters—half-sisters, her mind whispers, reminds her harshly and faithfully—is married off, and ten when she first starts to bleed.
As expected of a whore's daughter, the court murmurs smoothly into her ears. She bleeds young.
But blood is blood no matter what anybody else says, and her blood is worth more rubies than any one of these lowborns could ever afford despite being as tainted and dirty as it is. She is a whore's daughter, yes, but she is the blood of the emperor, and that makes all the difference.
Yes, she breathes out shakily as the servants swathe her in layers and layers of soft, smooth silk that didn't breathe at all. She would probably suffocate under all this fabric, but its sheer extravagance drowns her first.
She puts her hands up to prevent her sleeves from dragging on the floor—it would be such a pity to dirty such pretty clothes—and keeps them up to hide from the leering glares, because blood is blood no matter what anybody else says, and her blood may be worth more rubies than any one of these lowborns could afford but it is still tainted and dirty. She is the blood of the emperor, yes, but she is still just a whore's daughter and that makes all the difference.
She is whore's daughter and of course she bleeds young.
Yes, she breathes out shakily as she shrinks beside her brothers—half-brothers, her mind whispers, reminds her harshly and faithfully. Her half-sisters are almost all gone, and this last one is about to be taken away by some prince of some country they threatened to demolish, so of course, she keeps her hands to her mouth and her gaze on the pretty tiles.
She feels a hand press up against the small of her back, "Don't stare at the floor. It's unbecoming."
Her head snaps up and she presses her clenched hands against the base of her throat. Kouen pats her on the head and she flushes red, trying hard to ignore the glares pointed at her.
"Keep your head up. You're a princess of the Kou Empire and my sister. They should be lowering their heads to you," he murmurs softly.
"Y-Yes," she breathes out shakily, and Kouha turns to her with an envious stare at getting attention from their eldest brother and Koumei just smiles gently.
She keeps her head up, confident because she stands next to her half-brothers—brothers, her mind whispers, reminds her calmly and gently. She lets slip a small smile on her face and she doesn't even care about the glares anymore. She feels at peace standing here, and fits right in into this line of red that slips down beside the emperor's throne.
She keeps her head up all throughout the ceremony and spots a pair of eyes that are the brightest red she has ever seen, and she falters a bit at the hard gaze in them and dips her chin slightly into her throat. Her hands are shaking and she clenches her jaw, raising her head again. He is still staring, with those bright eyes that look like they were cut from ruby. He keeps a hand on the jut of his narrow hip, posture at ease and head thrown back as he regards her curiously. A smile slips onto his face moments later and Kougyoku feels butterflies in her stomach and something almost addictively bittersweet rising up her throat.
She remembers the time from just before her mother left her to the care of the cold-eyed palace servants—she remembers the way her mother had traced the line of her jaw, past her shoulder, down her sternum, past her bellybutton, and cupped the mound between her legs.
"When you find the man who'll ruin you, you'll know."
Kougyoku knows.