Chapter 4

It was dark, and the surface beneath her cheek was a modest degree of soft. Her skin felt sticky and yet crusty., slimy with old sweat, dried blood, and flaky mud. She lay there, body numb for the moment and head crying out in agony as she stared at the wood grain across from her with half-lidded eyes. Greasy raven strands distorted the image, not that there was much to see in the cramped space where she was loosely curled into a fetal position.

Her head turned slowly to look over her shoulder at the wooden barred window that lead to the outside world. All she could make out was tree cover with the occasional hint of cloudy skies above, but it wasn't the visual stimulation that she found interesting - it was the relative silence. The bounce and steady pace of her current prison made it easy to determine she was on some sort of cart being pulled by a hoofed creature, though whether or not it was a horse, she couldn't be sure. The tell-tale sounds of marching men were obvious as well, but there wasn't any vast number as if it was an army. Too many to count, too few to keep from contemplating whether or not she could break away.

'No.' she thought, fingers curling into her palm with dulled nails scraping along the rough stitching of the cushion under her. 'I've no idea where I am. They'd kill me regardless.' Lowering her head back down she released a slow, jagged breath. The pounding in her head was making it hard to think, rattling against the inside of her skull and sending pulses of shadow into her vision. How long had it been since she'd eaten? Taken a sip of water? Was it the day after the battle or days?

This was all too much, she decided, and she returned to sleep.

It was nighttime when she was awoken again. A frog-like little man was standing in the open doorway of the modest box, silhouetted by the firelight of the camp behind him.

"Get up," he barked, thrusting out another kick toward her back. This only earned him a seized breath, the small body of the woman curling into itself further. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to move. "You need to eat. Get up," he demanded again, approaching and leaning over her, though he could see little through the shadows of the container.

'Eat?' she thought mirthlessly, 'Why feed the animal you're just going to kill? What a waste of resources.' Her body ached too much for this, her head throbbed too heavily.

She would not be so fortunate as to avoid a meal by morning. The door opened again, having been closed at some point in the night, and her shoulder was yanked toward the straw as she was forced to her back. A strong grip took her jaw and pulled it down to the sound of much protest somewhere outside of her musty home-away-from-home. Then she was drowning. Sputtering and coughing, she convulsed up and into the waterskin that was filling her mouth with fresh, cold water. A hand grabbed for it though she froze, instantly regretting the action as her muscles cried out in pain. Flopping back down onto the cushion, she flinched as a loaf of bread collided with the wall behind her and landed on her head, bouncing to her lap. The door was promptly slammed and more yelling could be heard; she was still in too much of a daze to understand a word of it.

Turning the now soggy waterskin in her hands, she peered down at it, her other hand coming to take up the loaf of bread. The silence that had fallen over her tiny cell was pierced by the demanding snarl of her empty stomach, and yet she tossed both items to her left, flopping onto her right side and curling back into a ball opposite of the door.

They were going to execute her. Seize her life from her on their terms, and if she had anything to do with it she'd at least try her best to steal that from them.

As soon as she closed her eyes, it felt as if she was forced to open them. Sleep never eased her wounds as well as it did outside of the box, and it was painfully evident that she was in need of such when a hand gripped her arm and dragged her from her spot. Onto the ground she fell, circled by four sets of feet in various states of dress and animalistic form. Claws and nails, toes ranging from two to five… she didn't dare look up to see what was around her. The sun was hot on her back, heavy over the matted and thick fabric of her attire. She could smell her own perspiration, her own stench from days of her weaving in and out of unconsciousness, so it was no surprise when, after a short, dragged trek, she found herself at the edge of what she had assumed was a river - the reflecting light and swaying motion was plenty of a suggestion. When had her eyes become so bad?

Grunting, she arched her neck back as her long ponytail was pulled upon, a strong arm coming across the front of her shoulders and dragging her toward the river's edge. The voice was deep, a man's, and it sounded angry but she couldn't make out the words. A second, higher pitched tone chimed in, but was quickly silenced by a barked command. Then, things got wet.

Her whole face was initially submerged, her limbs fighting against the pain of her injuries and lack of nourishment to fight off the assailant. Was this it? They weren't even going to make a show of it? Just drown her in the middle of the forest and leave her for the animals to devour, for time itself to bury her bones deep within the youkai lands? How she regretted not having at least a bite of that bread; at least she would have been able to put up more of a fight.

Light returned to her blurred vision and she found her eyes as wide as her mouth as she greedily inhaled a deep breath of air. Gasping, coughing, she tugged against the grip on her hair and felt only resistance. The beads of cold water shocked her system, the muffled voices going in and out of understanding. Dull umber eyes tried to tune her vision in such a way as to make out her captors, her surroundings, and squinted closed as she felt her head shoved downward again, only to find the tip of her chin submerged and the water's surface kissing her lips.

"Drink."

Her lips opened and she let the water pour in, gulping down as much as she could manage. A startled cough and shudder rocked through her as her stomach clenched, a thirst beyond comprehension assaulting her and her gulping becoming more urgent. Hands once too weak to lift in protest now reached forward and into the mud of the riverbank, dragging her body further over the water and earning the release of the arm around her shoulders, yet she could still feel the pressure of the fingers gripping onto the long black tresses.

After a few minutes of indulging herself, she felt the hair tighten at her scalp and her body was pulled from the water - muddied fingers reaching out for it still and yet there was little she could do as her arms were taken on either side and she was pulled back towards the rest of the group and her cage. Eyes tightened closed against the sunlight, and she was pulled now with her back facing the earth. Her head pounded loudly in her ears, stomach sloshing back and forth with its new charge and yet she couldn't say it was an entirely uncomfortable feeling. The first time of fullness in however long it had been since she had last peered over a valley of youkai and wondered when her fate would be decided.

The sunlight was blocked out suddenly as she was shoved back into the confining space, knees pushed up to her chest, and yet it wasn't the prison itself but a shadow that came over her and blocked out the shining blue sky beyond. Her jaw was grabbed in that bruising grip and forced open, a rock of crusty bread shoved between her teeth and then ground through the help of the abuser's hold. Up and down, up and down. Under her chin went their palm, and a message to her throat sent the scratchy mush down; she gagged. Weakly, she pushed the hands away to have her own filled with the remainder of the loaf. By the time she focused enough to look outward the door had slammed again, darkening her world.

Swallowing thickly, she felt the wood against her shoulder blades slip along while she slid to fall back to her side, loaf of bread still in hand and her hair and face still sodden from the river. A fresh scent amidst the foul stink of her situation. Slowly the loaf was lifted and pushed past her lips. A modest bite. Then another.

She wanted to be able to fight.

The times that they would come for her were hardly regular. The treatment, always rough and urgent. They gave no care to whether she was asleep or awake, eating or not when they had more bread for her, water, demanded a bath or decided she needed to relieve herself; she was pulled out and dragged wherever she was required. The youkai were different each time - lizard creatures, cats, birds, but oddly no dogs that she could readily see. By the second day of eating, she was on her feet again without failure - able to walk alongside rather than being dragged and stumbling. What little food they offered did wonders in that area. Baths were no more than being dunked in a river or lake and pulled out, and her time to relieve herself, or try to, was short before impatience demanded she be locked up once again. Not once was she allowed to do anything without at least one set of eyes on her. Not once was she allowed dignity. This was war. Even in her weakened state, she was still a threat.

On the third day since she resolved to prepare herself for the inevitable fight, the fifth since the battle, the usual sound of silent plodding was pierced by the call of the city walls they were approaching. Her body twisted about to roll over, and she shuffled on her knees with the top of her head tapping the ceiling of the box as her hands came to wrap their fingers around the wooden bars. With her cheek against her wrists, she turned her face just enough to be able to see the towering walls growing larger on the horizon.

'The capital..' she thought. She had never once dreamed she would be here, not without the city burning to the ground in some fashion, yet here she was, witnessing it in all of its grandeur.

The modest caravan came to a stop outside of the massive wooden gates. Each of the twin doors was outlined in steel frames, bolts as big as a man's head placed a few feet apart, with the total height of each door being taller than most buildings she knew of back home - probably at least four stories tall. Both doors sported a massive iron bull, their horns touching against the seam where the doors met. Chains draped down and over their backs, a thick curtain that rested over detailed musculature and defied the whipping multiple tails of the beast of burden. The sheer scale of the structure was humbling, but it was the sound it made - a loud, monstrous groan as they merely parted a fraction from one another - that sent a chill down her spine. If she were to ever escape from this place alive, she would have to inform the generals back home that they would need far larger battering rams.

She hadn't known what to expect to see once the looming presence of the gate exited her vision, though it was obvious upon feeling her brows lift into her thick bangs that she had not expected this. The city looked very much like one she would have seen at home - the businesses and homes had architectural differences, pillars that left many rooms open air, but all the same there were no mud and brick huts. No fires upon which humans were roasting on a spit. The youkai walked the streets hand in hand with children, herding sheep or leading cattle. Despite their shapes and varying sizes, they all were dressed in a range from armor to simple tunics and sandals. It was a while before she came to realize that a number of the citizens she had been eyeing over were also staring straight back at her, tugging their children from her sight or glaring in her direction that she suddenly felt all too foreign. Pursing her lips, she urged her chest to stop burning so hotly, her heart to stop trying to tear from her chest.

Another gate came to pass - a little shorter than the first, but massive nonetheless. The bulls here were more intricately carved, artistically rendered with scars and all to the point that she was sure they were living youkai intended to keep a cruel and constant vigil. Once on the other side of this inner wall, she found her jaw was nearly in her lap. If the modest open air homes from before had been a surprise, these buildings made those feel like the mud huts she had thought to see. Each wall was a piece of artwork in its own right. Balconies were draped with fine silks and sheer fabrics, jewels and crystals dangled extravagantly from poles outside of doorways; finally, things she recognized as signs of status and declarations of privileged positions. There were fewer creatures in armor here, less livestock and more finely dressed individuals. Humanlike or massive animals, their hair seemed neatly groomed and adorned with gems, their clothing fitted and intricately designed. Their attention on the cart was far more direct. They lined the path on which she was lead and cried out their distaste for her, roars of rage and curses in tongues she didn't know. Rocks pelted the wooden box, sending her careening back and toward the wall furthest from either window, knees hugged to her chest. She couldn't help but flinch each time a particularly large and loud thump would send a shudder through the wood. The guards did little to stop the assault, if anything at all.

The third loud groan of the gates and booming thud of their closing behind the cart brought a cease to the onslaught. This time, the cart stopped, and she found herself easing back toward the window only to have the door in which it was formed swung open. She found herself face to face with the toad-like youkai and his big, bulging yellow-green eyes. His lips contorted a moment, tiny nostrils flaring and he released a loud, dramatic scoff that sent her own expression into one of annoyance.

"Did anyone even attempt to prepare you?" came a disgruntled whine, the little man plodding further into the box and beginning to wrap the end of a rope around her wrists without any complaint from the priestess. "I'm sure the Lord could smell you from the gates. I'm sure of it." The woman offered a slight grunt as the rough ropes were tightened, testing them herself with a tug just to have his leathery hand slap the back of her arm roughly enough to leave a red print. "Now stop that, you!" he chided, climbing out of the box and pointing to two decorated guards; one looking to be some mixture of lizard and man, while the other looked as human as she save for the pointed ears, violet hair, and otherworldly violet eyes.

Both men took an arm, hooking their hands under her armpits and hoisting her from the box, giving her full view of the courtyard. All she had time to observe was the tall archway of the castle entrance before she was drinking in the exotic sights of the inside of a burlap sack fitted for her head. 'Now they blind me,' she mused bitterly. Eyes would have been wonderful to begin observing a potential exit, memorizing the turns and twists of the cold castle she was tugged through. They would have also been fantastic for avoiding the various times her toes caught on a step or her footing was made difficult by a sharp turn.

The grips on her arms tightened and pulled her to a stop abruptly. Between the two they spoke some foreign language of snarls and growled words, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever heard it before. In her time fighting the youkai she'd never come across orders yelled outside of her own tongue; where was this dialect coming from now?

Thoughts on speech were cut abruptly short as light returned to her world and she found herself with her nose nearly pressed to the intricately decorated red and gold doors in front of her. So close she couldn't make out the actual designs that spread out beyond the dog's face that was staring right back at her, ruby eyes boring into her own. The familiarity struck her and she parted her lips in surprise. It was the face on the mask! Gold and not black, of course, but the red lined eyes and that long, gnarled and dagger-toothed grin? Definitely the likeness. Perhaps this dog was a symbol of war, though one would venture to wonder why any leader who wished the best for their people would adorn so permanently their castle with such symbols.

Despite her best efforts to prepare herself for the inevitability of the door opening, she found herself flinching when the golden face cracked down the center and the doors swung open slowly and silently. The room on the other side was massive, to say the least. The walls were tall, curling over like waves of blood speckled with gold into vaulted ceilings grander than any temple she had seen. Each vault was decorated with a large window near the peak of the top of the wall, where vertical met curve, and from below each window draped a fabric panel, and before each panel sat a statue - one of four - that stood proud and evenly spaced along the length of the room. A bull, a slender bird, a cat, and a spider, all carved out of smooth stone. It was when she was halfway through the room that she realized that there was not just the lord at the end, but a crowd of people on the left and right of the room, hidden in the shadows cast by the windows that sat high above their heads. Were they all here to see her execution, or were they here to be her jury? They were eerily silent, glowing eyes watching her lonely trek to stand twenty paces from the foot of the first of three steps leading up to the throne upon which their lord sat.

She couldn't help, at first, but to look past the man and to the horned throne itself. It reached for the sky above his head, nearly dwarfing him - looking to be built for one much larger than himself. Behind the throne stood the statue of a howling dog with a mane thick and curled like clouds flowing over its massive shoulders. From the open maws draped crimson fabric off to either side of its form, held up again by two slender rods that created a frame for the throne it protected. This all lead her back to the seat, and the Lord with his piercing golden eyes and thin, disapproving lips. Long hair draped over his shoulders and back over a thick fur mantle, making spider webs of shimmering silver strands that stood in stark contrast to the cream colored fur cloak. The cloak itself was fastened into place with two intimidating metal shoulder guards that wrapped around his form midway down his upper arms adorned with sharp horns every few inches along. His attire was similar to what she had spied on the Dog's and yet different, more intricate and ceremonial in appearance. Not much of the man's dou could be seen under the thick fluff of his cloak, but she could make out tassels and carvings that poked out from underneath, the sash tied at his waist sending long flowing tails of golden fabric over his white covered legs. The fabric looked soft even to the touch from her position below him. The only distinct lack of armor she noticed was the lack of kote as the man's arms and hands seemed to be completely free of hindrance further showing his pale skin and sharp, long claws. The same markings she could see the hanyou had affected at their first battle were present on this man's face, accompanied by a violet moon over his brow that was accented by the addition of gems in descending size on either side of the celestial body and disappearing under the thick bangs. Upon his head was a twisted crown, hooked horns poking upwards and a violet gem cradled in its metal arms. This man saw himself as no lord, but a king, and how wrong was he truly?

The Lord's head turned slowly, eyes peeling from her to regard his left where a door was opened behind the red drapes that framed the throne. From the shadows came the first familiar face she'd seen in what felt like days, yet there was no feeling of relief or happiness, only the churn of rocks in the pit of her stomach. His armor was the same, the black dou accented with a thick, layered steel sode on the right shoulder, the hooked armor on the left, with golden silk wrapping the center steel guard over his chest and similarly colored tassels dangling from its hooks. The han kote covering his lower arms were thick and metal plated, with angry curved spikes - like vicious fangs - arching up and away from the backs of his hands, giving him a more intimidating presence. As if he truly needed it. His far-more-visible black matching haidate, given that he was standing and not covered almost entirely in fur, were in four angled, softly pointed panels, versus her own flat, rectangular panels. They reached to just about two inches above the knee and were partially hidden under the gold sash that draped over his legs to tie behind him and also flow freely in two long tails down his front. His hakama, unlike the lord king's, stopped at his knees versus his ankles, halted by the tall knee armor and suneate poised over metal that echoed through the massive hall with each step he took. The hakama and haori he seemed to wear under it all wasn't the red she had seen before, however. It was exchanged for a pure white affair that was decorated with red arching streaks, these wrapping from the back of his legs along the outsides of his thighs to disappear beneath his haidate; similarly, the red slashed over his shoulders toward the collar of his haori where the violet beads and tan fangs of the subjugation rosary rested. His face was framed with the same silver tresses, if not a paler grey than that of the lord's, the longest strands tied back and into a high ponytail behind his head. Cheeks were re-painted with the same violet stripes as well, now crisp and clean, and the amber eyes she had glared into so heatedly before were lined more distinctly with dark black, making them look narrower and more exotic still. The main difference between the two men was that one of them was armed, and the other appeared not to be, though the blade at the Dog's hip looked ratty and unkempt, and - now that she thought of it - the weapon hadn't once been drawn in their last engagement.

When he ascended to stand beside the throne, a step below the throne's own, she found herself forced to her knees with two hands firmly on her shoulders. One appeared on the back of her head to force it down as well and into a more formal bow of respect as the lord's eyes returned to her.

"So this is the human who has been thwarting our advances?" the deep, rumbling tone of the lord rolled over her like a wave of ice cold water. The river could take a lesson from this chill that sent goosepimples over her skin. "This is who our people have grown to concern themselves with?" There was silence for an extended moment, her gaze so focused on the fibers of the red carpet beneath her she couldn't tell if he seemed amused or annoyed with this information.

"Let me see the face of the one who so shamed this Sesshoumaru's general." The grip on her head tightened into her hair and pulled her head back quickly, contorting her smeared and filthy expression into one of pain. Defiantly she set her brows low over her own eyes, pulling her lips back against her teeth and bearing that she, despite herself, was not going to whimper or shrink under his scrutiny. The task seemed a difficult one to keep up, however, as with every raking pass of those eyes of his, it felt as if he was peeling back another layer of her very being. The clothing, the skin, the muscles, the soul held within; he was dismantling every part of her and it made her skin crawl and her stomach threaten to force her to retch. She would have been thankful for the interest he took away from her form if it hadn't been for the fact his focus was now on the talisman still hanging from her neck.

"Where is the Shikon Jewel?" he asked frankly. His question went without reply and he resumed staring at her face again, repeating once more with no more volume to his tone but somehow a stricter command, "Where is the Shikon Jewel, woman?" Again, he went unanswered, and the weight of his attention shifted to the lizard guard to her right who nodded, following the subtle motion of the long clawed finger of Lord Sesshoumaru to the talisman.

On reflex, she tried to move away from the encroaching three fingered hand, a sound of protest escaping her, but it was all pointless. The moment the scaled digits brushed up against the golden frame, an electric shock of resistance issued up the guard's arm and sent him stumbling back in pain, his free hand gripping the assaulted limb as it sizzled angrily. She herself breathed out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, looking from the guard to the lord who didn't seem phased at all by the development.

"General." The hanyou at the side of the throne looked up from the corners of his eyes, lips thinning a bit while his right ear flicked in the direction his title had come from. When the shorter man didn't move, the lord turned his attention as well, "Perhaps your typical disadvantages may prove useful in this affair." The priestess and dog looked to one another, his expression none too pleased with the situation and all but a reflection of her own. Huffing out a breath through his nostrils he made his way down the remaining steps and came to approach her with a hand outstretched for the talisman, though he hesitated a moment. Her body slowly eased backwards and away yet there was nowhere to go with the arm that still held her in place keeping her in the shadow of the hanyou. The hand began to hover higher than the talisman and to the leather that tied it around her neck though, he paused again when he noticed the curl of her lips into a smirk. His own nose crinkled and brows lowered, releasing a snort over top of the low growl that began to resonate from his clenched fangs.

"General," the lord's tone was acrid, "If you fear her so, I assure you she is restrained this time; she shall not defeat you so easily again." The shadowed walls of the court fell into a hushed laughter, even the lord's stoic expression revealing a slight upturn of the right corner of his lips, yet it was the face directly in front of hers that had her uneasy. His cheeks burned red even through the layer of powder he wore, the heat in those catlike eyes suffocating as he melted a violent glare into her and she lost that smirk. This monster could strike her down here and now and she was not entirely sure the court and their lord would be terribly upset at the turn of events. Finally, he reached out to grab for the leather, only to have it flare up in the same light-show as the talisman, sending him stumbling back a step or two and staring down at his hand. Turning toward the throne he looked up to Sesshoumaru who nodded lazily.

"If she will not tell us of the location of the jewel which rightfully is ours, and we are not able to liberate her of her power source, then we have no further use for this creature." A delicate hand lifted, the long sleeve of his attire swaying with the motion as he made move to signal one of the youkai up above, poised in one of the massive open windows with a horn in hand. "Alert the citizens, we shall execute her at sundo-"

"Wait!" the dog barked, a hand held out in a physical gesture for the lord to stop. Undeterred by the glower he was receiving, the hanyou stepped toward Sesshoumaru and pointed back behind him to Kagome, "Do you know what that would do? You'd turn her into a damned martyr! Once word gets back to those humans, they'll not just be infuriated, they'll be empowered by the 'sacrifice' she'll have made!"

"You fear the humans so much, do you?" Sesshoumaru questioned, hands coming back to both rest on the clawed arms of his throne, a hitch of amusement tugging at his voice. The hanyou merely shook his head, thrusting a fist to his chest over his heart.

"I fight for my kingdom as viciously as anyone, no matter the trials I may face, but it is needless to cause these battles to become any more difficult when we don't have to. Their spike in spirit will just make taking them down more annoying and lengthen our time out there. I've seen what a cause can do to spur them first hand, Sessh-"

"My Lord," he was corrected harshly, "And you speak out of turn, as well as disrespectfully. If you cannot handle your task, then you should be relieved of it at once, shouldn't you?" The threat was felt even to the priestess, yet the dog did not relent.

"I'm doing what is necessary for our cause, as you sho-" Again, he was cut off, this time by the lord standing, a gust of wind pushing all before him to ease back on their own feet, or knees in her case.

"Do not dare to suggest I am not doing what is right for my people and our cause, hanyou!" This tone caused the smaller man to falter, lowering just a fraction with one foot slipped back in a halfhearted ease to a noncommittal knee. Sesshoumaru's brows lowered slowly over his piercing eyes, the sharp claws of his right hands beginning to shimmer to life with a toxic green hue and appeared to be ready to lash out had it not been from the shift in the shadows off and to his right. The lord's attention shifted lazily to the movement, disarming himself with the welcome distraction.

"It is the belief of your council," the smooth voice offered, leaning a low bow over the arm of the throne behind the lord king in respect, "that the general has the right of things. We do not wish to potentially postpone the realization of our goals any further, my Lord. To keep her alive but trapped within our walls will do more to show how powerless both she and they are to stop our might. Their most powerful weapon against us is at our mercy." He lowered further, the masculine silhouette from the shadows of the throne, taking to a knee with the hint of a skull of a monkey of some sort peeking out and into the light. "It is, in the end, your decision, of course. Let the Crane soar through your thoughts and the Dog see your hand be swift and just."

Sesshoumaru turned back toward the four figures before him, focusing first on the priestess, then drawing his heavy gaze to the dog who was doing his best to avert his gaze lest the lord decide to take a tantrum from his defiance. Releasing a scoff, the man began to slowly step down toward the hanyou, long cloak of fur trailing behind him and now showing the true length and fullness of its form. Stately fingers reached out to hook delicately under the violet beads that dangled from the dogs neck, giving his eyes a chance to observe them. "You will not be returning to the field until your replacement mask has been completed. I shall tolerate no more ill temper from you." With lips parted, the hanyou had been about to speak when the beads were taken into a tight grip and yanked downwards, forcing the dog-eared man to take a proper knee with a grunt of protest at the harsh treatment. Regardless, he bowed his head and fell to silence.

"As for you," he continued, stepping to the dog's side and stopping there, fully facing the priestess: still on her knees, covered in the filth of her travels and battles and draped with the long black tangles of her own hair. "My council speaks wisely. You are a high ranking threat against us, the highest if I do be so bold as to say, and even in this crippling defeat for our general, we have still been able to clip your claws and dull your fangs. There is no reason to put you behind bars, to hide you from sight; you are a prize to be shared with our people and a symbol of our awesome power. You will serve that which your people so despise, that has spilled so much of their blood across your soil for your very crops to soak up and bask in." His eyes lowered to his right, his head turned to regard the back of the man beside him and she felt her muscles tighten.

'No!' her mind's voice gasped, her arm tugging for the first time at her restraints. He wouldn't be so cruel! Not even the 'Lord King of the Youkai' would be so cruel!

"What greater dishonor is there than to survive defeat and be forced into the servitude of an enemy who is so tainted and low within his own society, he is fit for nothing but war?" The twin ears folded back against the long white hair, a low growl radiating from the hunched figure, but it went ignored as the lord Sesshoumaru turned to make his way back to his mighty throne. "Prepare her for her service without concern for her powers. This entire city is warded against the use of her magics; she is as powerless as..." he paused, turning and seating himself with such a mildly amused grin that still sat with such an alien appearance it made her stomach turn over. "Well, as a human."

Her body twisted and protested as she was dragged to her feet, though still her voice was silent. She would not give him the satisfaction of her screams, her anger made audible, but she had to at least fight their grip. She had to dig in her bare feet as she was dragged back through those massive halls and out of his line of vision.

There was no burlap sack this time. No point in hiding the pathways of the halls as they pulled her past countless wall-high windows and through the bowels of the castle. She spied the small frog man go barreling past them and down the hall, calling out that there was much to prepare and to not delay and indeed there was very much. She was pulled into a room that she could only guess was on the far side of the castle from the throne room by the amount of time it had taken to get there. It was dark and dank with only lanterns to light the near-blackened wood paneling. There were heating stoves filled with unused coals and a pit for steam that she could make out in the light, but there was no water being heated, no care for her comfort in the process of scrubbing her of her identity.

The first task was a violent theft of her armor - buckles and ties were cut or bent to make removal easier with each piece discarded or crushed underfoot. The layers of ceremonial clothing came next, her arms doing their best to cover her modesty as she was exposed layer after layer - but to no avail - before she was doused with bucket after bucket of freezing water while rough spun cloths were raked over her naked skin carrying suds of a neutral scent. She had given little protest outside of trying to cover herself until she felt a familiar tug on her hair and the sound of metal drawn from a sheath.

"No!" she sounded, jerking her head forward, lashing out at the youkai still trying to clean her body, "No, stop!" her hands raced up to try to tug at her hair and give her roots some relief but she found them restrained, "Don't!" her voice was now to a shriek, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. Her hair was the symbol of her training, her prestige. Training called for not cutting the long tresses in any way to be closer to the image of the fallen mother, to the image of regality; for each year one studied the arts of the priestess, they let their hair grow long and full, and it was a prized representation of her trials and victories. Her pride in her work and her way of life. They knew this! They had to!

A sharp yank and the sound of the strands being sliced was louder than any youkai's roar. The end of the hair curled around her feet and her wide eyes soaked in the sight of the sodden raven tresses, swaying limp and heavy in the puddles of water now tainted with her filth. Her toes curled, fingers tucking up and against her palms as she felt her hair begin to be washed. She wasn't sure if it was the relieved feet of hair or the brushing of her new hair length against her shoulders that made her head feel so light. When her eyes began to burn she clenched them closed, jaw tightening.

'You will not cry,' the priestess chided herself, 'You will not show them that you have been wounded. Stop it, Kagome. Stop.' She found herself thankful for the next wash of cold water over her head to rinse away the suds from her hair as well as whatever tears had threatened to escape the thick black lashes of her eyes.

She didn't bother to cover herself anymore, nor did she bother to fight what was going to happen anyway as they dried her with towels and proceeded to toss fair smelling powders over her. They shoved a stack of rough fabric into her arms then began to depart one by one as she slipped on her undergarments, then the thinner kimono of a muted grey over her form followed by the short sleeved forest green vest that tied with a red sash around her waist and off to her left hip.

Once she was clothed, the guards took hold of her arms again and began pulling her back into the well-lit hallway and up no less than three flights of stairs. The windows disappeared the higher they went and the farther inward; the halls grew narrower and less decorated. Finally, they stopped before a modest door. No intricate carvings. No signs of what was behind it, just a wooden door with steel framing, a simple handle, and a steel lock into which a key was inserted. As soon as the door was swung open, she was shoved in. There was barely any time to regain her footing before she heard the structure slam behind her and she realized that, for the first time in days, she was completely alone.

She eased slowly to a sitting position on her knees, then to her feet as she soaked in her new living space, her room. Her cell. The first thing she noticed was the tall, ceiling height window seat that was the ultimate source of light of the room. The glass was stained and simply crafted to create an open air arch leading up to a circle that showed what appeared to be a pink star, the bottom a more modest arch with smaller panes was closest to the seat itself. Despite the muted coloring of the glass, she realized that upon closer inspection, the city scape below was easy to see. Both outer walls stood prominent over the roofs of the youkai homes and businesses.

A four post bed stood to her left as she turned to face the room again, massive in its own right and draped with dark burgundy fabric that obscured the sight of the posts themselves and the bedding within. The dark, rich wood was carved into twists of clouds that lined the outside edges of the foot board. Turning her attention to her right, she noticed a changing screen and what looked like a dressing post for armor. She fancied it odd for the room of a servant, but she also figured it wasn't often the youkai took prisoners in such a way; it would not be expected to have a great number of rooms prepared for such an occasion. She approached a vanity that was also present next to a dark hued dresser.

The reflection in the mirror was ignored pointedly as she began sifting through the containers and small jewelry on the vanity top. Opening one of the powder jars she peeked inside and her throat tightened. A finger slipped into the powder and returned to vision with a rich violet tone. The same violet of those marks on his face.

Her hands immediately dropped the powder without regard to the mess it made upon colliding with the vanity. Hastily she began wiping off the coloring as if it were poison, the drapes of the bed serving her purpose, and afterwards she backed herself up and under the rays of light peering into the window - back against the base of the window seat. 'They expect me to live here!?' A panicked realization, hands gripping onto the front of her vest, 'They expect me to share quarters with that monster!?' Again, tears threatened her eyes, and again, she forced them back, opting to flee the clear view from the doorway and wedge herself between the bed and the far wall and out of sight. She needed time to compose herself, she needed time to regain her strength. She could not let him see her in such a state no matter the cost.

'I must fight!' her lip quivered, stilled by a harsh bite of her teeth. Her hands dug into the short ends of her now shoulder length hair, gripping and pulling them tightly, "I will fight!"