A/Note: This story was intended to be a short drabble, based on Masamune telling MC that they'd discuss his "future wife" comment "someday". It seems that now that he's home, he's dealing with the expectations of his clan, and how those clash with his personal wishes, and MC's 500-years-in-the-future understanding of marriage.

Fortunately or unfortunately, my keyboard slipped, and resulted in a very *long* drabble - or maybe a vignette type of short story. There is musing, there is drama, there is fluff, and there is just a wee bit of steamy fun.

~ Imp

Note: The tumblr post has screencaps of the relevant quotes from the game, which are illustrative, but not necessary.

Impurely Political

Quote: "It's not like marriage, which for us is purely political..."
~ Date Masamune, Ikemen Sengoku ~

Date Masamune, Lord of the Date Clan, stood on the balcony of his room and looked out across the green fields and trees of the land beyond Aoba Castle Town. He had picked today because the weather was fine, and he was tired of waiting. And because he had certain suspicions. The piece of jewellery clasped lightly in one hand was very plain, and his vassals and servants wouldn't understand, but he trusted his lass to tell him the truth about her future customs.

They had been living together at Aoba Castle for almost two years now, and his life had been immeasurably better for having her with him. He'd learned long ago how to live in the present, and he brought everything he had to whatever he did, but although she had determination to match his, she also helped him to save just a little for the future, and had given him back 'someday'. The fits of darkness still clouded his sense of reality from time to time, but she was there for him now, understanding, loving, and warm. Rightly or wrongly, he had decided to put her first, above even his duties to clan and domain; doing so had forced him to reclaim a part of himself long thought abandoned. They would risk their hearts together, and prove that the risk was worth it.

He knew that she wondered about marriage, and appreciated her absolute faith that he would keep his promise that "someday" it would happen. She hadn't understood, at first, what was at stake. Marriage was a major trading card when it came to land and stability; it could end disputes, prevent war between clans, and anchor peace. It created important bonds, but the focus was on the security of clans and domains - it had nothing to do with the hearts of those involved. The political value of the marriage, and the status of the wife, were enhanced if there was a male child, but children were rarely a key factor. In any event, most children were just younger bargaining chips, one way or another.

His lass was intelligent, and not entirely unaware of the realities of this time, but her tenure at Aoba Castle created... issues. His vassals treated her with deep respect, and she responded as a princess should, although always with the kindness that had endeared her to staff and warriors alike in Azuchi. However, there had already been offers of marriage pending when Masamune had answered Nobunaga's call to war, and some were still on the table upon his return. Sengoku schemers could be very patient. New offers had arrived, some genuine, others sent mainly to test his alliance with the Oda, or perhaps his unheard-of devotion to the Oda princess who now served as mistress of Aoba Castle. Rumours said that she was the only woman to share his bed, and many found that hard to credit.

It was true, though; Masamune found that he had no great interest in other women now. Moreover, he found himself strongly attracted to the lass' five-hundred-years-in-the-future vision of a loving family. Mind you, she readily acknowledged that families weren't perfect in the future, either; she knew that many families struggled, and that no intimate relationship was ever really easy. And yet... The possibility of a family in which it was shocking for a mother to try to poison her son, and brothers didn't plot assassination as a matter of course, sounded worth the effort to Masamune. Whether it was possible in 1584 was unknown. Either way, he accepted that if he married his brave daimyo-catcher, there would be no second wife, and no concubines.

Masamune's steps were unusually slow as he walked the moderate distance from their shared bedroom to the lass' sewing room. She'd already mentioned filling the castle with children—or tiger cubs—if that's what he wanted, and he hoped that she'd been serious, and that she wouldn't come to regret her choice. He'd seen strong domains torn apart for lack of a clear heir—and the same when there were too many. If he were to die too soon, she could find herself in a bad spot, at least until one of the Oda warlords came to offer their protection. But thinking that way was unproductive for several reasons, and he'd promised her that he would fight to stay alive, instead of taking it for granted that he, or she, could easily die at any time.

Now he stood outside her half-open door, and his heart was hammering against his rib-cage, which was unlike him. He hadn't imagined doing it this way—without fanfare, or at least a romantic picnic under the stars. Then again, maybe this was how it was meant to be for them. So many of their important moments had been unscripted, including the first time he had promised her 'someday', and then wondered what the hell he was thinking.

His cool was slipping inexorably away from him as he fought to clear the last hurdle, and set aside his current great fear. The risk had always been there, he just hadn't come face-to-face with it so clearly, somehow. For a long time—months, even—he'd told himself that he was delaying the marriage in order to the reduce the number of probable assassination attempts. He'd wanted to deal carefully with the families of disappointed candidates. There had been an attempt on her life despite his efforts, but he'd caught wind of it in time. Marriage was serious business, and Oshu was a rich domain.

But that wasn't it—at least, not the greater part of it. Assassins were a known quantity, and he and his vassals and his staff knew what to look for. He could protect her from assassins. The problem was—

"Masamune!" She put down her work and bounded up to meet him.

"Took you long enough to notice me, kitten. What are you working on?" He couldn't fail to notice the way she tugged the door closed behind her, especially since her expression was almost as transparent as it had been when they'd first met.

"Nothing much. Just some, um, little things."

"Why can't I see?"

"Why are you visiting me in the middle of the afternoon? Do you have some time off?"

"I do. So let's go in and see what you're working on."

She grinned up at him. "Nope."

"But I've got something to say to you that shouldn't be said in a hallway."

"Oh?" Her face lit up with a combination of curiosity and hopeful interest. "Okay, you can come in, but you have to close your eye."

"What? No way!"

"Yes way!" She folded her arms across her chest. Greats gods and goddesses, she was cute!

"Alright, kitten, but you're responsible for the results." He closed his one eye and scooped her up, ignoring a squeak of protest. He made a show of feeling around for the door—while 'accidentally' poking her—and by the time he was standing in her sewing-room, she was laughing and scolding all at once.

"You're impossible! Stop! I mean it—you're about to trample my work!"

Her voice had risen in pitch at the end, and he pretended to come to a wobbly halt. In fact, he'd already gauged where to walk from his glimpse into the room when he'd first arrived, a skill more often employed for invading an enemy stronghold. This time his automatic reconnaissance had shown him the beginnings of a new kimono—a very little one. He used his apparent stagger as an excuse to hold her tighter.

"So, how about you show me yours, and I'll show you mine," he suggested, bending a little so that his mouth was closer to her oh-so-sensitive ear. He didn't need to see to guess at her disdainful eye-roll, but he'd felt her react to his breath on her skin, and she was very warm in his arms, so he bent further to kiss her face.

"No!" She tried to push him away, but was hampered by both giggles and a strange belief that she might hurt him.

"Why not?" He hadn't been aiming for her lips anyway, and went on to nuzzle her forehead unimpeded. After that mild success, he moved to her cheek and then back to her ear.

"Because, ah, because—oh stop it!" Her voice was alive with laughter, and just a little heat, and that was when the panic hit him, without any of the usual warning. Unprepared, his breath seemed to seize, and he staggered.

What if she died? What if she died and it was all his fault? No, it would be his fault. Because she was—he was almost sure she was— Or maybe she was already dead, and he was only dreaming—

"Masamune! I'm fine—look at me!" Now her voice was sure and commanding.

He opened his eye, saw her face, and then buried his own in the crook between her neck and shoulder. With unfeigned gracelessness, he let himself slide down the nearest wall. His tongue lapped the skin of her neck, then stilled as he found the pulse point and pressed his lips against it. Good. She was warm, she was alive, her heart was beating.

Okay. Come on, Masamune! Time for some chill. Let's get it together. His mental voice was just a thread, but thanks to her, it was easier to come back these days. His arms were all but rigid around her, so he forced himself to relax into her warmth, shoving back the illusion of smoke and death, and blood on his hands. She snuggled against his chest, gently pushing aside the fabric of his kimono, and they sat that way for some time while he forced himself out of his waking nightmare. Damn. Damn! Nothow I wanted this to go!

"I'm fine now," he said at last, probably still some time short of it being true. The words came out low and a bit raspy. He hated that she knew about this weakness of his, but loved her for the way she took always took it in stride—just as she had the first time, when she didn't even know what was happening. She stayed in control, didn't run, didn't fuss; she let him seek what he needed—proof that she was alive; proof that he was alive. 'It's not weakness,' she'd told him more than once since. 'It's just that you're hurt, and some things take a very long time to heal.'

In all honesty, he still wasn't completely convinced. War had raged across Japan for over a century now, and people coped. It was important to be able to accept your losses and move on; otherwise, you might never move again. On the other hand, the moments of panic were far fewer now, or had been until a few days ago, when he'd started putting together certain clues, and reached his decision to say to hell with it and get married.

"So... seems like there really is something going on?" Her eyes searched his face.

With renewed focus on the here and now, Masamune picked up his lass and sat her properly in his lap, taking the time to smooth her hair and straighten her pretty hairpin. Then he gave into temptation and took advantage of her concern, by kissing the soft lips that were even prettier than the hairpin. How many times now had he felt that initial, indignant resistance, and then the little puff of air on his mouth as she melted against him in happy resignation? He drew away sooner than he wanted to.

"Well, you see, kitten..."

"Uh-huh?"

"I heard a strange rumour the other day."

She sat up straighter, smoothing her kimono collar and adopting a serious expression. Masamune felt his lips twitch into a wry smile. Glowing eyes, flushed cheeks, prim mouth begging to be kissed into laughter—she was making it difficult to do this with the gravity that he knew it deserved.

"What rumour is that, my lord?" asked the serious mouth. The smiling eyes mixed love and sensuality so closely that he felt heat suffuse his body.

"They say that the Lord of Oshu has settled on a princess of the Oda clan."

She went quite still, and her eyes widened perceptibly. "Masamune?" Her expression wavered between hopeful and wary; he regretted that he'd made her so cautious of being optimistic, and saw that he'd been at fault. He'd have to make it up to her.

"I will write to Nobunaga in due form, in order to uphold your dignity," he began, keeping his gaze fixed on her face, "but I know that my kitten cares more about the personal than the political." It was plain that she understood him, and her eyes were shining. For once, he didn't feel the slightest inclination to tease her. He'd worked hard toward this day, but it still felt strange to him to be setting aside the benefits of a political alliance in favour of something as intangible and whimsical as love for a single woman. Being back home had forcibly reminded him of his duties.

"Masamune..."

"I don't know exactly how you go about this in your time—it's a pity your ninja friend isn't here to advise me—but I remember you saying that a woman often wears a ring to show that she is engaged, or married. I would like to marry you, if that's still what you want, and make you the mistress of this castle in name, as well as in fact. This gift seems inadequate to me, but I know you'll understand what it means—that I'm glad you chose to stay, and that I'll do my best to respect your future-person traditions as much as I can."

He abstracted a thin, finely lacquered box from his sleeve and pressed it into one of her hands. She took it without resistance, and he realized that she was scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her other hand.

"Hey now, lass! Is the prospect so terrible?" He watched with mixed consternation and amusement as she tried to glare, laugh, and cry at once. "Well? What do you say?"

"N-no! Of course not!"

His inclination to tease began to reassert itself. He feigned extreme dismay, and said, "You mean you won't marry me?" Her reproachful look silenced him briefly, but she couldn't stop the corner of one lip from twitching upward. "What will it be then? Or do you need to open my gift in order to decide?"

That made her laugh, and she wiped away the last of her tears, although her eyes remained suspiciously bright. "Maybe I should," she replied, and he admired the way she strove to match his tone. She carefully lifted the lid from the box, and then her breath hitched—just a little—and she beamed up at him, her smile so full of love and happiness that he felt himself grinning in return. "It's perfect..."

He'd commissioned a simple gold band that she could wear comfortably most of the time. It was engraved with crescent moons—his own personal symbol, rather than the Date crest. There was no inlay, which could fall out with use, and none of the relief carvings that he would normally associate with important jewellery. The man who had created the ring from Masamune's design had never seen anything like it. Neither had Masamune, but he'd asked questions over the past year, and seen the occasional sketch.

"I'm glad you like it," he told her, lifting the ring from its ornamental box. "It looks strange to me, to be honest—but I could see how it would suit you." He turned the ring in the sunlight, admiring the craftsmanship. "Are you sure about this, lass? No second thoughts?"

"None. I mean, yes, I'm sure, and no, I have no second thoughts. What about you, though? After all, I'm not really a princess—"

"Lass, no true princess of the Oda would be avenged faster, if I mistreated you. They'd be after my head in a heartbeat, I assure you." And most of them are at least a little in love with you. "My advisors would probably prefer a suitable match closer to Oshu, but they've said nothing since I first brought you home." Because I don't bother with fools for advisors. "I couldn't give this castle, or Oshu, a better lady, and I think most people around here realize that now."

"Will you put it on for me? It's traditional, in my time." She extended her left hand.

"Is that a definite yes?"

"Yes!"

He took her hand and kissed each finger in turn, then carefully slid the ring into place. For some reason, he felt both afraid and elated. And something else. She was entirely his now, and he felt lust coil low in his belly, and the earlier heat he'd felt return in full force. Of course, she'd tell him that he was hers, and he'd have to agree.

"I can't believe you even had it sized for me. You're pretty impressive, Date Masamune!" She was laughing, and admiring the ring on her finger, but she noticed his shift in mood almost immediately, and looked up to meet his gaze. "...Oh. Ah—"

He didn't let her get any farther before tangling one hand in her hair and pulling her mouth against his. She hummed in pleasure as they kissed, and her lips parted willingly to admit his tongue. He tasted and teased and nipped at her lips, while his hands curled around her waist and hips, drawing her more securely against him.

"Ma—Ma-sa-mune..."

Hmm? Oh yes. "You're right, our futon would be more comfortable." But he was kissing her again, and one hand moved to stroke her breast through the fine fabric of her kimono and shift. When she moaned into his mouth, he pushed her back onto the tatami and settled his body against hers, while his lips and tongue and teeth began an increasingly fervent assault on her ear and down her neck. The hand not tangled in her hair reached down to grasp her thigh under her kimono, and she writhed as he started to rub his thumb along the soft skin just to the side of her damp mound.

"So... kitten..." His voice was rough around the edges, but he knew his limits and hadn't reached them yet.

"Mm?"

He blew gently across her ear, and she rocked under him. She always looks beyond gorgeous in passion. I am so lucky. Licking first his own lips, which were dry, and then hers, he slid his hand around onto her backside and ground himself against her.

"Aaaahhhh, Masa-mune, what a—about where we are?" Her eyes flitted to the door, which wasn't completely closed.

"Tell me kitten... what are you making? I want to know..." He stopped moving against her for long enough to drive his tongue deep into her mouth; a clear prelude to an even more intimate act. She gasped and moaned, more loudly now; heat rose from her flushed skin.

"No!" she told him defiantly, the moment she could speak.

"No?" He released her gently, but stayed over her, most of his weight on his forearms. "Are you sure?" He'd already seen what she was sewing, but he wanted to make sure his guess was right. He kissed her flushed lips and rosy cheeks, but lightly, and then went back to looking down at her.

"…What if somebody comes in?"

"They'll cope."

"I wasn't worried about them!"

Masamune started to stroke her jawline slowly with the pad of his thumb, something that she always enjoyed. Besides, it would remind her of what else they could be doing. Her expression wavered from defiance to something like a pout. But it was a false pout, he knew. Mostly, she was anxious.

"What's bothering you, kitten? If it's a surprise gift, then say so, and I won't pry any further."

She thought about it for less than a second. "It's not for you." Then she sighed, and reached up with both hands cup his face. "I think I'm pregnant. Actually, I'm pretty sure. But you've been acting so strangely the last few weeks and I—"

It was another sentence destined to be left unfinished. Masamune suddenly realized that no matter what he'd suspected, hearing it was completely different. He found himself grinning like a mad fool, and then kissing her, and then—he decided that first he would tell her how wonderful she was, and then he needed to take her to bed.

"Congratulations, my wife-to-be! You are always one step ahead of everyone else. I'm just glad you allowed me to propose first."

He shook his head at her, allowing her to see and feel the joy he felt. For once, his fear—the crazy fear that had been plaguing him ever since he guessed, was drowned out by excitement for the future. It was time to be himself again, and stop being a coward about the what ifs; what an idiot he'd been! He'd been terrified that she might die in childbirth, or from the birthing fever—dangers she wouldn't have faced in the future, from what he understood. He couldn't protect her from those dangers, and the fear of losing her had gotten its hooks well under his skin.

"Masamune—"

"Kitten—"

She laughed at him, wholly relieved and happy now. Her body was still very warm under his.

"Are you really going to make love to me here?" She wrinkled her nose at him, but her lovely eyes held mischief, as well as desire.

He didn't even pretend to consider. "No, I'm going to carry you to our bed, strip you naked, and then ravish you until we are both too overwhelmed with bliss to move." He bent down and nipped at the swell of one breast, then gathered her to him and rose to his feet. He wasn't especially embarrassed about somebody walking in, but he'd be damned if he'd share this look—she look she was giving him now—with anyone else.

[END]