A/N: Hey guys. I'm loving the reviews, and I've had a lot of people adding me to their watch list. If you guys could comment as well, that'd be so awesome. I'd love to get a bit more feedback on this whole thing. I might also start doing individual responses to commentors, but for now, it's just an all around thank you!

Secondly, some notes concerning this chapter: A few of you will wonder WHY Aizen would name his daughter "Rukia", after someone by that same name tried to kill him.

Also, I'm not very satisfied with this chapter at ALL. I'm having a bit of trouble getting my thoughts together with these first few. I know how things are going to turn out, though, so please be patient with this rough patch.

Well.

You'll have to wait and see what all is going to happen. And once more, sorry for the shortness!

Disclaimer: Oh, come on. I totally don't own Bleach or the characters, but a girl can dream, right?

The garden was a mesmerizing place. At least, it was for her…yet then again, she was the only person in Hueco Mundo who ever visited it. Rukia Sousuke let delicate fingers trail over the wrought iron railing that descended down the cold, white marble stair case to the inviting colors below. It was peaceful here, quiet, and absent of the cruelties that were the center of her father's world. Here, she could escape the condescending stares of the Espada who were supposed to be her subordinates and escape the numb, bleak and emotionless words of a mother who had long since lost her own will.

Here, she was welcomed by the sights and sounds of a world that no longer existed elsewhere. Of course, growing up, she had heard tales of the former Earth in all its glory, when the flowers bloomed each season and the trees decorated the land, and birds sang beautiful songs. Her father seemed overjoyed that such things had been replaced by a desert as barren and empty as Hueco Mundo, and her mother didn't seem to care either way, staying in the shadow of Aizen like a scared, lost child. Rukia was, apparently, supposed to share the same sentiments of her father. Yet for her sixteenth birthday she had asked for a garden, much to the dismay of the leader of the Espada. Her father had begrudgingly consented and brought what plant life he could to her, and Rukia had buried herself in her new home, taking care of the new plants and life she had found. She was eager to see what the small seeds and bulbs would one day become, to see what the wonders of Earth really did look like. Yet somehow, before she had seen her first rose, she knew what roses looked like. Before she had seen her first daisy, she could remember their smell, and knew that they would be white and yellow.

She had never given much thought to her knowledge of such things. They must have been mentioned in one of the stories some of the older Espada told. Instead, she had insisted that the project of the garden be hers and hers alone. This didn't bother anyone; disdain seemed to be the overwhelming emotion that came from nearly every member of the palace. She knew they looked at her as though she was some speck of dirt upon their flawless 'society'; she heard the whispers of how she was conceived to be no better than the peasants that worked the fields. But she ignored it and let the garden become her refuge, working relentlessly until it had become what it was today.

A small smile fell over her lips as she trailed down the stair case, taking in the wonders that she had brought to life with her own hands. In a world where death was everywhere, this place was a sanctuary. Bright blue eyes roamed the small landscape. The ivy that she had carefully hung had grown at a great speed, winding over the wrought iron supports and weaving it's way across the arch that marked the end of the stairs and the beginning of this new world. But just as her feet took her to that arch and the garden opened up before her, the sound her of name met her ear.

"Mistress Rukia."

It was a soft voice, and Rukia recognized it immediately. She turned expectantly to the red hair, the bright face, the eyes that were once so innocent and yet had now seen far too much. "Inoue." She stated back in greeting to the girl. She was her only friend here, the only person who ever looked at her as though she was something more than a blot of the otherwise flawless surface of her Father's regime. "What is it?" Surely Inoue was here for a reason. Rukia knew very little about the woman, only that she was very old and had been present during the days of the Great War, before Earth, Soul Society, and Hueco Mundo had become one. Yet even with her age, Inoue seemed to have run her original course of usefulness. She now served as Rukia's personal servant, and surprisingly, the older woman didn't seem to begrudge this too much.

Inoue gave a warm smile to the dark eyed girl standing at the bottom of the staircase, but there was something wistful in that smile. Rukia had never been able figure out exactly why she smiled like that, and Inoue had always politely requested to leave the reason a mystery. The subject saddened her immensely, and though Rukia's upbringing was one of stoic and cold uncaring, she had never pushed the subject further. "Your father sent me for you." The brown eyed girl informed her with a small tilt of a bow, and Rukia's brow furrowed. Why did her father want her? He very rarely requested her presence unless something big was occurring. With a sigh that said she was none to pleased with the situation (really, she had wanted to spend time in the garden) she nodded her consent and made her way back up the staircase, following her servant out quietly. It was a completely different world once they entered the hall. Hueco Mundo had never held much appeal for her; nearly everything was a cold, sterile white, a white so aloof and stoic that it seemed to be everything but pure. It reminded her of her father's regime, and yet…never once in her years had there been a single complaint from her. Her father knew what he was doing, and while she wondered over the marvels of the lost worlds, she knew that what existed now was for the better. The souls and humans that defied them were no better than the relentless desert heat they lived in. And while she wasn't fond of her father's methods of getting rid of useless souls, she had to admit that that, too, was for the best. What good was a soul that could not work? And what were the Hollows to feed on otherwise?

Rukia herself had been dead many years; her mother told her once, when she managed to get actual conversation from her, that she had died shortly after her birth. She hadn't been able to coax the reasons for her death out of her mother though. Hinamori Momo, former vice captain of her father's division when he had occupied the Gotei 13, was a shell of a being. It was with pity and slight disdain that Rukia viewed her mother's quiet, subservient attitude—her broken eyes, her hollow, crazed smiles. No one ever spoke of what had happened to the woman. Rukia did not want to know. She sensed, deep within her, that she would not like the answer.

The fall of footsteps echoed through the hall as the two women traversed the emotionless, empty distance to the great hall, and the walk seemed to take far longer than it should have. But soon enough it opened before them. As was customary, Inoue entered first and the dark haired young woman could hear her announce the Princess' arrival. Knowing her cue well, she entered the room with eyes shut and head held high, not needing to see the forced and stiff bows of the Espada. It was only after a few steps that she let her blue eyes slip open, and her gaze lingered on her mother and father, waiting patiently, and she made her way to their side and stood quietly at the left hand side of Aizen's great throne. "You requested me, father?"

There was no verbal answer to her, only a gesture out before them. With a confused blink, she turned her eyes to the place he gestured.

Something inside her dropped to her toes and a feeling arose in her stomach. For a moment she swore she knew the strawberry haired young man that stood, shirtless and scowling, hands bound behind his back. Auburn eyes met blue and for a moment the two stared. There was an overwhelming hate and defiance in his eyes, and she had to fight back the urge to swallow. Aizen was speaking and she forced herself to listen, coming in halfway to his speech. "…Ichigo. Do you accept, Rukia?"

A start. He had asked her something? Tearing her eyes from the youth who still scowled so fiercely, she licked her lips, and said in her best high and oh-so-mighty tone, "What father deems best, I will accept."

The one named Ichigo gave a shout of protest to this. Rukia wondered briefly what she had agreed to. The familiar feeling was gone and she knew now that she had never seen him in her life. But Aizen was smirking.

"Very well. He will be moved into the slave quarters and will begin his duties at dawn tomorrow."

A new slave. That was all it was. Her father had said something about getting her involved in palace affairs now that she was coming of age. This must be part of it.

Yet something about the smirk her father sported sent a shiver down her spine. It was the smirk that said he was up to something, and whatever that something was, it was not going to be pleasant.