Mistress was very beautiful, but she belonged to Master. Master was very kind, but he belonged to Mistress.
Seiran knew that Mistress had come to the house with no dowry and no name, although it was obvious that she was of noble birth. Her bearing, her manners, her hairstyle- a style usually worn by noblewomen from a certain province- all spoke of a woman of very high birth and status. She was also very sheltered. She cooked enthusiastically but with utterly no knowledge or skill. She was delighted by the smallest things; jars of salt sold at the markets, a tray of cheap hairpins at the next stall over. And her past was a blank, a cipher; no family name, and even her given name was taken from that of her husband. He was Shouka and she was Shoukan. Sometimes Shouka would call her 'Rose Princess', like the old fairy tale. A pet name. A nickname. A pretty name, but not a real name.
It bothered Seiran sometimes. Mistress had run from something terrible. Sometimes she screamed at night, dreadful, blood-curdling screams. The first time he'd heard her he'd rushed from his bed, sword in hand, ready to come to her rescue. When he'd reach the door to her chambers he'd heard Master's voice. Calm. Soothing. Telling her that it was just a nightmare and that she was safe. Hearing the screams made Seiran angry because he knew that something- someone- had given her such awful dreams. Seiran wanted to protect the Mistress because he loved her and she was beautiful and she'd rescued him. In the sleepy evenings when Shouka was late getting home, Seiran would sit himself at her feet as she read or embroidered. Nervously, he'd lay his temple against her robe-covered knee and she'd stroke his hair. Shouka was late only rarely, and Seiran would dare even less. But those precious moments, those wonderful moments. The warmth of her hand in his hair.
Seiran loved Mistress, but she belonged to Master. And Master belonged to Mistress.
It had bothered him for a long time, because it seemed to him that loving Mistress was some form of betrayal. He couldn't say why he felt like that, he just did. Then one day when he was in the garden, watching over tiny Shurei, the little girl had plucked a flower and presented it to him. In her piping child's voice she told him that she loved him.
After that, Seiran decided that it was not such a bad thing to love Mistress, even though he didn't belong to her. Shurei belonged to Mistress and Seiran belonged to Shurei. That made Mistress 'mother'. And even though Mistress was in many ways quite fragile, she was also very stong. Seiran had never felt so protected, so loved in the time before she first touched his hair. Master protected Mistress who protected Seiran who protected Shurei.
The arrangement worked quite well, he rather thought.
