AN: These little scenes/ snippets/ extended drabbles don't follow chronological order. They're written mostly as they come to my warped little head—so, um, please excuse my messy brain?

And now, for one of the scenes I know you've allllll been waiting for!


The wedding reception

Since he'd become an advisor to the Emperor at the Imperial Court, Kouyuu had been exposed to all kinds of dangers. Threats, assassination attempts, burglaries, assaults with a deadly flute; it happens when one was such a high-ranking officer.

He never thought his most dangerous encounter would actually be his own wedding reception.

At the kitchen table, they sat together, he on one side of Shuurei, Shuei on her other. Shuurei had insisted on remaining at home and celebrating 'privately'; he had a feeling she'd anticipated the reactions of her family members and was trying to enact a bit of pre-emptive damage control. She was probably one of the very few Seiran would listen to, and at this point, Kouyuu would take any effort that would put a buffer between himself and the bipolar retainer. Since the moment he and Shuei had arrived—when Seiran had been sharpening the knives—to the call for supper—when Seiran had come in from chopping extra firewood—to the time they all sat down to dinner—when Seiran had insisted on escorting Shuurei to the table himself with a smile, then sent her two new spouses a glare with his red-gleaming EYES THAT PROMISED FATALLY PAINFUL DEATH IF SHE SO MUCH AS HICCUPED WRONG BECAUSE OF THEM—he hadn't felt like a very welcome guest that night.

It didn't bode well for him and Shuei when they started moving their belongings in.

Then again, seeing as how he and Shuei had 'accidentally' both married the Kou princess, without her father's blessing, her clan's approval, or cheerfully offering to be soundly beaten by her family retainer first,… this wasn't unexpected.

Thank the gods he'd remembered to bring a chicken to eat that night.

At least it had given the silver-haired man something to kill—er, he meant, 'warm up'with, rather. First.

Kouyuu swallowed to try and wet his tight, dry throat.

Had Seiran always left his swords and ceremonial armour in the kitchen when they'd eaten there before?...

Then he blanched as he heard the latest guest arrive.

Ohgodsno,herecomesReishin—


TBC.