When We Were Young

Chapter 3

Coming To Terms

"It's never as easy as we believe. I understand, but can you?"

x

x

[The year 1520, Kagome]

"The maids have been giving me suspicious looks for the past few weeks, my husband," I announced one night, sitting by the fireplace. My fingertips were close to the flames, the heat brushing against them in satisfying strokes. I nearly shuddered in delight. Nights had been cold, the days warm. A hideous combination in my mind.

My husband glanced over at me from his chair. He had been enthralled in his latest novel—a treat I had presented him with for his birthday of twenty four years—reluctant to listen, I could tell. This subject had become a frequently discussed one, for it caused me much discomfort. Though I knew his response, I waited. I waited patiently, the heat my only comfort.

"You do not age as we do, my dear," he said in a normal tone. However, when voicing his next words, his tone dropped to a whisper. "If you must blame anyone, blame the demon King. Suspicion is all they know—most humans do not like change. Especially when you are supposed to be a human yet age as if you possess the same skill and power as those things."

"My lord," I gasped, appalled by his sudden hostility.

My hand dropped from its place and I turned to fully face my husband. "It is the King you insult so freely, sir. It is the King you discriminate against because of his natural beauty, poise, and power. You would do best to remember such a thing."

Hojo raised an eyebrow at me. He didn't seem angered, just a bit peeved. "There was a time when humans lived in peace, Kagome. We lived on our own, by our own rules, by our own accord. And it is not the King you defend, my dear, but the love that you lost years ago. Holding on will only cause pain. And despite your blatant disregard for my advice, I continue to give it. You do not see how much it hurts you—how much it is tearing you up. I think ill of him for making you one of them—making you just like them. I give you no pity, my dear, for your faults have shaped you...Let go of them before they shape you into something hideous."

I swallowed. I had had many discussions with my husband prior to this but never with such insight, such finality. I realized that all our previous discussions had been careful—we always had treaded on the borderline of honesty but never crossed it. Neither of us dared set foot in the foreign land.

Until tonight.

His eyes had been settled on me, waiting patiently for a response.

"I...gave him my heart. It can not be undone."

"And if it could," he asked, closing his book that still rested between his palms. He placed it on the table next to him and stood, making a path towards me.

"I do not know..." I answered honestly. "There was a time when I wished so."

He knelt in front of me, his eyes locked to mine. "And what do you wish now?"

"To forget, my friend, would mean to lose something—to lose a memory that was so easily acquired yet so exceedingly difficult to hold onto. Yes, it causes me pain. Each night my heart aches. There was a time when it only beat for his touch, his word, his kisses. I knew it would end. I knew one day, my dream world would cease to exist. I was selfish. I wish...I wish to see him once more. I wish to remember his face, his voice, his stance. Each quality about him was perfect—perfect for me. If that is not love, tell me, my friend...what is?"

Neither of us blinked for a few moments. His eyes searched mine—mayhap he was wondering if I was lying or speaking from the knowledge in my head; the knowledge placed in there from silly daydreams.

"I see..." he murmured finally, standing. "What you speak is from the heart."

I nodded.

He understood.

I followed his example and stood as well. He took my hands in his. "I believe you will get your wish. I believe that if what you two have is strong enough to survive the obstacles of time, the rest of your lives will be lived in peace."

I smiled. "Thank you, my husband." For finally realizing that Sesshomaru has a stronger hold on me than any living human or demon combined.

x

x

"Not so tight," I grunted, my hands twitching with the unreleased urge to slap my maid as she tightened the corset I was forced to shimmy into for my sister's arrival. Normally, my daily outfit would be loose, without as many confines as the classy were common to don. Today, however, the eldest of my siblings was gracing me and my husband with her presence.

No doubt to spy on my current living conditions and such.

That thought alone made me grit my teeth. After the audacity years ago to sit and look as me with such disappointment and discomfort in her eyes, disregarding the fact that I was her favorite daughter, my mother sends the most irritating, possessive, and outspoken sibling to be her spy.

"You know what? Just fetch my husband," I ordered loudly. "Perhaps he can get this done without rendering me incapable of breathing."

She scowled but nodded and shuffled out my door, loosing her grace in her obvious irritation. I sighed, as best I could, and walked over to the vanity. My face came into view and I frowned, my hand rising to touch my left cheek lightly. I looked the same as I did years ago. The years of my foolish wishes and affairs. The years when I had thought loving another was without consequences.

I had loved him, I truly had. No other was capable of evoking such an incandescent, heart-clenching emotion from me. No other could give me butterflies and make my heart jump with a single glance. I had been happy at court; satisfied, if you will. The danger, the probability of getting caught—facing death. The kisses and sneaking about.

Now, I was just content.

"My dear?"

I turned to face the door, my husband's head peeking around it, eyes replete with marvel. I smiled.

"Yes?"

"Rebbecca just marched by me, stomping her feet, muttering something about inconsiderate mistresses. The rest, I fear, was inaudible," he paused momentarily, an arcane smile plastered on his face. "Though probably for the better. What, pray tell, did you do?"

"She was hurting me," I replied simply. "Lace up my corset for me?"

He shook his head at me but complied.

Sometimes, content is not enough.

x

x

"Sister!" Kikyo exclaimed as she exited the carriage. I forced a smile, resisting the need to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from spouting foul language. My husband stood by my side, arm around my waist, his hand squeezing my side subtly, reminding me to keep my control.

"Kikyo," I acknowledged. "How are you?"

"I am well," she answered, examining me slightly. "You look as if age has not touched you. I do envy that, my dear sister. It would seem as if the fresh air and work of the country life has treated you well."

I nodded. "The country is peaceful, unlike court. It is less compressing—with all the whoring about, it's a wonder that stress has not conflicted with your complexion."

Her lips twisted into a sneer. I could feel the disapproving look from Hojo but disregarded it completely. He could lecture me about the insult later. No doubt we would be sleeping in the same bed tonight. It was not being near my husband that I minded but the act we had to put on to fool my sister. Her reports to my mother must only contain the best of comments.

"Hmm," my sister muttered. "Do I get the privilege of being an aunt soon? You're looking heavier, my dear sister."

I could hear the venom in her words and though I would like to say that I was indeed, unaffected by the insult, my only wish was to have the carriage, which was now departing, turn around and crush her beneath the wheels.

I cared for my sister, I did—we were just too different to be civil to one another. She was winter, cold with every quip—even if she meant well; and I was summer, passionate with every word that left my mouth. It would be with the greatest pride to say that I always win; however, each insult from between her lips struck a cord somewhere inside of me. It had always been that way—and through the years, it never changed.

"Well, I believe it is getting a bit too hot to be standing out here. Why don't we retire to the dining room for some supper? Surely you are hungry from your long journey?" my husband, the peacemaker, suggested with a wholehearted smile gracing his lips.

I nodded and I saw my sister lift her skirts. "That sounds very pleasant. Although I must request a momentary trip to my quarters to wash up."

My husband nodded. "Of course, Kikyo. Our home is your home. You may do whatever you wish."

"How kind of you. I am surprised your manners have not rubbed off on my little sister."

I gritted my teeth. "I will go tell the cook to prepare the finest meal. Excuse me," I huffed, leaving my husband's side for the first and hopefully the only time that night.

x

x

"You may enter," I said in a low voice, answering the anxious rapping at my door. I did not turn around when the person entered, I merely stared out the window, admiring the stars. I heard a feminine clear of the throat and assumed it to be my sister.

"I do not know, nor do I wish to know, what affairs took place between you and the prince. He sought me out one day and handed me a letter. I gave him a befuddled glance and he told me to deliver it to you—should it get into another's hands, it would be disastrous. This was but two years ago. I looked at it each night wondering what words the parchment could possibly contain. What would the Prince of Wales possibly have to say to my sister, out of all the women at court?"

I heard the shuffle of paper and hope sparked in my heart. Could she have possibly brought the letter to me? Could she possibly have done something unselfish for once in her life? I turned to look at her. I saw the letter in her hands. I could barely sit still.

"I have it with me, as you can see," she said, walking over to the fireplace, admiring the mantle. "However, he is the prince. He has consummated his marriage—we could all hear."

I could imagine the smirk on her face as my heart broke. "You jest," I said, my voice cracking slightly. My eyes began to blur as I looked at her back. Though I knew it was, indeed, his duty to perform such actions, it still affected me. My throat began to go dry, my stomach stirring with an uncomfortable feeling. "Surely you jest."

"No, my dear sister. I do not jest."

"Give me the letter then. Give it to me now." I stood from the window seat, my hand reaching towards her. I prayed that she could hear the pain in my voice. Then perhaps it would crack the glacier around her heart, if only a fraction. A fraction enough to feel pity. I did not only want the letter, I needed it.

"If he has consummated his marriage and shall become king, what would you have to say to him? What could you possibly have to say to him, sister?" She turned to the side to look at me. "I can not think of a thing," she concluded, dropping the letter into the fire.

I watched through blankets of tears as the parchment reached the flames—it was almost as if the flames had formed hands, reaching for the letter just to spite me. Every heartfelt word scribbled onto that parchment meant only for my eyes—from the man I loved, was gone. Gone because my sister did not find it in her heart to deliver the letter as requested.

My heart dropped instantly and my anger swelled. How dare she! I could not think, my mind was clouded with an overwhelming plethora of feelings. Ones I did not wish to ever feel again.

"You vile, wretched whore!" I yelled, my fists curled in an unspeakable rage. "Get out!"

She smiled. "As you wish." She glided out of the room, not missing a beat. She felt no regret for what she had just done. She did not know the broken heart she had just created. She did not know the time it took to repair myself mentally—the time that was now proven to be wasted, for every step in the progression to forgetting had been lost.

That night was to be the last I ever heard news from court again.

I was back at step one.