10
She Who Increaseth Her Knowledge
"The blossoming of the trees in spring is only the most beautiful to one who has watched them wither in winter."
Mameyoshi threw a glance over his shoulder, to see if his audience was listening. He need not have bothered, though: Alihaddra always listened.
The prince and magister was seated, unfurling scrolls over a low table in his private wing of the summer palace. The King smiled at the young man's furrowed brow, barely recalling the last time he had seen Ali so pensive. Most of the court was accustomed to Ali's light, meandering smiles, his easy words spoken with a lilting Ariavatan accent.
He and his children had known him since Ali was a child however, a mercurial child with a patience that burned through faster than paper. And he had always been the thoughtful kind of child; now he had grown into a thoughtful young man. He'd grown to be the wisest of them all, wiser than Nobushiro, than Sayuri, than all his other children, and had made himself just as wise as a King like Mameyoshi.
The Magisterium, the idle thought came to him, I ought to visit again sometime.
And Ali would only continue to grow; the Magisterium never chose wrong, after all. It was a blessing that he and his family could always rely on Ali's honest counsel.
Turning back, he was again welcomed by the vision of his inner garden in full spring bloom. A cherry tree had been planted in the middle of the enclosure, and the greenery all around was lightly dusted with the first petals of spring. A lone figure sat undisturbed beneath the cherry tree, her brush silently gliding over her canvas.
Mameyoshi appreciated this scene for only a moment longer, drinking in the sight of his fifth child enjoying the first bloom of the season in the relative silence and peace of his private wing. Undoubtedly the cherry trees in the capital were more numerous and well-tended than the single tree he had planted in his garden, but Nobuhime had simply given him a rare smile, insisting that she was honored to be one of the few people—in accordance to wedding tradition—seeing Sayuri off.
He sighed.
He turned on his heel and approached where Ali sat with a scroll in his hands.
Upon noticing his approach, the young man looked up with a grin: "Understanding of the cyclical nature of life begets understanding of the fleetingness of sorrow. It's a lesson I know well enough, uncle."
Uncle. A title he only reserved for when they were in private, though father would've worked just as well, even in public. It was a shame that Mameyoshi's other two sons weren't there, forever called away by their own separate responsibilities.
"A pity many are bereft of the wisdom you possess, Alihaddra." The King said, sitting down and moving to pour both of them cups of some warm tea. "Even the smartest and the strongest of us need help in understanding their troubles will not last forever."
Ali's brow lifted. He set down the scroll he was reading and—for a second the King watched him hesitate, before his amber eyes flit up from the spot they'd fixated on the scroll, meeting Mameyoshi's stare head-on.
Absent-minded words aside, they were both on the same page, having wandered down the same winding line of thought all morning. Mameyoshi need not waste his breath, when it came to Alihaddra—they were both acutely aware that Sayuri would be arriving at the docks, returning from her retreat in the Triangle. In a handful of days she would be sent off to Rakushou, to the distant Kou Empire, Jishou and their small region of the world's interests tucked into the folds of her splendid wedding robes.
His firstborn daughter, to be packed and sent away again like he'd packed and sent her away ten years prior. Like Caera hadn't collapsed in on itself and she hadn't tried to hold together the shards of a fractured nation with her own two hands; like she hadn't come away from that experience bleeding and a changed woman.
But here Mameyoshi was, charging a task of momentous responsibility and risk to the only person he could, to the only person he knew capable. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, a taste his tea augmented all too well.
He downed the rest of his cup in one fell gulp.
"We—Shiro, Yuki, and I—we believe she's ready for this, uncle."
Mameyoshi almost chuckled at that. "She is." She is, he reminded himself as he set his cup down and clasped his hands in his sleeves; she's risen from the ashes of her past.
Still his tongue slipped: "She has to be."
Ali dipped his head. "She will be protected if she isn't. She will be protected even if she is, I promise. She will not be alone in the Eastern continent, this I promise you."
A magister did not give their word lightly. The declaration made Mameyoshi raise his own brow, and he looked at Ali wryly. "Surely the Magisterium cannot read that far into the situation, or even into the future. Enlightened as you all may be, I cannot help but worry for her…her wellbeing, her life. Especially with the events five years ago, and the strangeness of Kou. A father only hopes his daughter will be protected at every turn by the man he entrusts her to."
Six years ago now, he internally amended. A full year had already passed, and another spring was upon them.
Across from him, the younger man looked away, pursing his lips. He knit his brows together, creasing his forehead—as if thinking, for a moment, how to reply.
Then Alihaddra stood, made his way round the low table, and got on his knees before him. He laid his fingers on the ground, and with one shallow breath, lowered his head to the floor.
The magister lay prostrate before him, the ultimate sign of deference in Jishouan culture.
He uttered quietly: "We will protect her. I swear upon my honor, and my word."
Mameyoshi rolled his eyes at the ceremony, but inwardly and despite himself, felt himself breathe easier, his chest loosening with a sigh he hadn't known he'd been withholding. "Do get up. You can't greet Sayuri like that."
There was a short chuckle from Alihaddra as he slowly recovered from his stance, smoothing his finely embroidered camel-colored jacket all the while.
The King watched silently as he did this. Then Mameyoshi lifted a hand to grasp the magister's shoulder—he squeezed it, murmuring as he looked away, "Just keep her safe, my son."
A travel-worn Sayuri returned with her chests and trunks, and Ren Kouen's thick gold collar worn dutifully around her neck. Mameyoshi fought the twitch of his lips to keep from sneering at the sight, as she clambered onto his carriage with her cumbersome hairstyle and robes.
The King was deservedly not very fond of Kou—fine young men as Koumei and Kouen only seemed to be. Kouen might have (deliberately or not, but Kou's Crown Prince was no fool, he knew) played into his hand by asking to marry Sayuri, but he still did not relish the idea of having to hand his children over to a twisted empire like Kou.
"You've done such good work keeping to tradition, Sayu," He said as the carriage began to move, starting their journey from the docks of Tohouku to the summer palace. "Considering this wedding is the result of Kou's contrivance, someone should perhaps applaud you."
Sayu just sat back on her seat, groaning and rubbing the back of her neck. She looked to be well enough, given the circumstances: she always returned from her travels with a light tan to her skin, because Jishou did not receive much sun compared to Caera and Ariavat. He could always count on Ariavat's Queen to keep Sayuri's days leisurely, yet the scoundrels in Caera always kept her busy; the fact that she always traveled east whenever they beckoned still secretly irritated him.
Let children fix their own messes, he always said, otherwise they will never learn.
But likewise, Sayuri was no child. She was smart enough to make her own choices; she had been for a long time now.
He watched as she plopped her hand down on the carriage seat. Some metal clinked as she did so. He half-wondered at how heavy the manacles she called bracelets peeking out of her sleeves seemed to be.
"Alihaddra's already here," Mameyoshi said, playing a small smile to mask his internal ruminations. He could see the visible way she perked as he said those words. "Nobuhime as well."
She seemed surprised at the latter part of his statement. Her green eyes widened, and she absently lifted another hand to brush back a stray strand of her hair as she seemed to ponder something. "I would've thought Mameha would be here too."
He merely smiled wider, showing his teeth. "We'll all travel west for the binding ceremony, of course. But last autumn she insisted on studying Jishou's history up north, where Nobushiro is right now," Sayuri's brows shot up to her hairline. He fought back a chuckle. "I assume it has something to do with the summer before's events."
His daughter nodded slowly, parsing the information. The surprise was still on her face even as she uttered, "I'm proud of her for taking the step. We rule effectively if we understand those we rule, and their stories."
The surprise died away. Briefly, Sayuri smiled, tinged with melancholy as her expression was, and looked out the latticed windows of the royal carriage.
She snuck a glance at him, eyes sharp and curious for just a moment. "But any serious study requires time, does it not?"
"It does," He replied easily. "The monks and the scribes don't leave their mountains for anyone, either—but rest assured she will be there for quite a while, since none of the courtiers seem to be in such a rush to wed her off anymore—" because your betrothal bought her leeway, "—the time for her to learn is ripe."
To which Sayuri made a quiet noise of understanding. She had set her elbow down on the window's ledge, and leant her cheek on her palm. It brought attention to the gold band with the enormous ruby sitting on her ring finger.
"Perhaps she'll even stay until she's twenty," Mameyoshi continued. He caught her eye, smiling a bit for her benefit, because he knew she cared deeply about all her siblings, and that she would've worried all year-round about Mameha and what would become of the nineteen year old. "Perhaps she'll marry who she chooses, and I will simply follow her wishes. You've swayed the courtiers with your accomplishments thus far, and with Mameha showing a real interest in governing the country, the court may be easier to persuade when it comes to what your sister wants. But—"
The King sighed, resisting the urge to move his eyes heavenward. "—With the way the rest of the world is, not only Jishou but the Triangle will need all the political capital it can get. The outside is closing in. Unsavory as this alliance with Kou is, it is only the beginning. We all need to tread with more caution than before."
He looked at her, to see if she understood.
She didn't—at least not completely. The wrinkle in her brow, the tight line her lips had made, the narrowing of her eyes; these were signs he could read off of her as if she was a scroll. Mameyoshi knew she was trying to understand.
But he wasn't the right person to explain this to her, and in due time she would be made to understand. The rest of the world would soon be opened up to her, after all.
My daughter, his mind whispered and echoed. He wished he were happier, more optimistic. Sayuri did not need his weariness, when he was sending her to fulfill a weary task. He wished he didn't feel half as old as he did right then.
"Alihaddra brought you a wedding present, by the way," He amended. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but you must admit he always outdoes himself on his promises."
And now the confusion on her face was full-blown. Mameyoshi opted to remain cryptically silent for the rest of the ride to the palace, deciding to watch the passing spring scenery out his window all the while, disguising his thoughts with an absent-minded facade.
When he went to see her, she was in her father's wing of the palace again, a setting reminiscent of the last time they saw each other.
The last time they saw each other was nearly ten months ago, a stretch of time that at once seemed both long and fleeting. Time seemed to be doing that, these days; some days Kuja would wake up, often within the ivory, sun-bleached minarets of the Magisterium in Ariavat, expecting to be sixteen again, a young trainee at the beginning of his studies—only to be surprised when he realized what day it was, what years had already passed by.
Which wasn't to say he was alarmed with the way that time slipped through his fingers, and had mysteriously blown itself out his candlelit window, never to be seen again—he was rarely truly alarmed, these days, even with all that was happening—but he wondered, like all magisters did.
Sayu was old. Older. Everyone was. Each time he ventured out of his cloister in the desert she changed, and it had before taken him some time to accept that she always would, that the world was ever-shifting, ever-changing, no matter how still and infinite and unmoving the universe seemed to be in the Magisterium. When she returned from Caera all those years ago and he'd seriously ventured outside the Ethersand for the first time in four years—the difference in who he was and who she was had been staggering, and although he'd since made his peace with those truths, he still wondered.
You need to get out more, was what Shiro had told him. Kuja grinned. That was a fine piece of advice Nobushiro had intimated—advice he didn't follow often, despite his intentions.
For now he was grateful he'd managed to snatch enough time for himself, and for Sayuri. She was getting married again, after all. He would've regretted not going, especially since he'd missed her first sending-off, too.
"Sayuri," Kuja called as he swept his hand to his heart and bowed deep.
As if on cue the silhouette behind the curtain shook, its shoulders trembling a little as her answering chuckle wafted its way to his ears like music. He smiled, and straightened as Fuu stood to draw the thin panels of fabric to the side: one by one the swathes of silk parted, and his friend was bared to him, a smile on her face as plain as day.
That afternoon she looked different. She was decked out in stark white and crimson, with extra layers of silk piled underneath her stiff outer robe. A magnificent blood red dragon was embroidered over her shoulders, its claws sinking into the skin over her collarbones. The hues of her clothes complimented the glittering gold jewelry Ren Kouen had given her, but Kuja was hooked to the playful look in her eye as she offered him her hand. He went forward immediately to help her stand and descend from the raised platform she'd previously been sitting on.
Hand still in his, Kuja gestured to the side. "My wedding gift."
And truthfully, he hadn't known what to give her, but this—at the back of the room, another pair of servants slid open a set of doors, to reveal an older man with his arms crossed. He came forward at Kuja's beckoning, and with a touch of regret, the prince let go of Sayuri's hand to introduce his wedding gift.
"This is Davvid Kyrios," Kuja said, "a spellblade, a magister, a scholar. Your father gave his blessing to let this man be on your honor guard; it would please me if you accepted him into your guard as well, Sayu."
"You mean…" Her brows were both raised as she looked at him and then into the grinning, scarred face of Davvid, who was still dressed in his desert robes, his boots still warm from the Ariavatan sun. "You're to be sworn into service? To me?"
Davvid nodded. His grin transformed into a smirk as he uncrossed his arms and said: "It makes no difference to me, y'know. A magister's most important—and only vow is to serve. Ali here," He nudged his head toward Kuja, "asked if I could lend him a hand. I agreed; figured serving one of the Triangle's most prominent faces would be more exciting than being shut in the desert for the rest of my natural life."
There would be no question of loyalty, no question of skill—magisters as knights and guardsmen were few and far in between, considering the nature of their path. Most were content traveling the world, or serving the countries they came from, or continuing scholarly pursuits in the Ethersand; Kuja had done all three for a great deal of his life as a magister, but there were always special instances that required something else. This was easily one of them, and the Magisterium had besides already given its ready approval.
"It's an honor, by the way. Nice to finally meet you—" Davvid said, bowing quickly. He tacked on at the end—"Your Highness."
"You're a Caeran man," Sayu uttered softly as her eyes followed Davvid's actions, "I can tell. Caera has been in need of its magisters for a while now." She uncertainly looked at Kuja.
The man scratched his chin a bit. He replied, in his grizzled, cocksure voice, though at that moment it had lent itself to a little pondering: "Well…they need a certain type of magister, I'm sure you're well aware, Princess. I'm not exactly a wiseguy that advises the senate. More of the combative type, if you know what I mean."
Kuja nearly bit his lip, fingers twitching at his sides. Sayu had no reason to be uncertain, he'd carefully thought this decision through—he'd sought out Davvid on purpose, knowing he would best be suited to this task. "He'll protect you, Sayu. While you're out in Kou. I would trust him with my life, which is why I would trust him with yours."
She looked at him. They locked eyes—his heart beat in his ears. I promised your father. I will protect you, the beat chanted, over and over again in the span of a few breaths, and he knew the exact moment when she made her decision.
Sayuri dipped her head. She cracked a smile at him, then at Davvid. "Alright."
"Sayu, are you listening?"
In the easy silence of the day before her ship left for Rakushou, they sat together in the gardens, like two children resting from a day's worth of hide-and-seek in the woods. The summer palace was still beautiful, even in the other seasons—the weeping willow was perhaps even more beautiful then, with its long leaves like fingers dancing vibrant green in the spring breezes. Everything was more alive, and the rukh was humming up and down the mountain, a vibrant melody he could always hear if he sat back and attuned his mind.
In fact, he'd been sitting back right then, absently humming to the sound of life so Sayuri could hear, before popping his question. He'd earlier convinced her to let her hair down that day—what's one day in the privacy of the gardens, Sayu—and so there she was in her plainclothes, her head laying on his crossed ankles, her long silver hair spilt over his robes and the green grass.
Her eyes were closed, hands folded over her chest in the middle, where her heart lay. She'd eschewed all her betrothal jewelry as well, the only ornamentation on her then being the bracelets he'd given her last summer.
But was she dozing off or merely listening?
He got his answer in the form of her own quiet humming: "Mhmm."
Nobuhime was there, as well—she was separated from them by a tree root, a little fold-over table above her lap and her writing instruments splayed about her in an organized mess as she continued her calligraphy; on the other side of the garden, Davvid was watching, though not very vigilantly, and was more admiring the Jishouan scenery he was no doubt glimpsing for the first time in his life.
"I want you to know that you can trust Davvid," He said, leaning back and resting his head on the willow's thick trunk. "Trust him as you would trust me, and if you have anything you must say that no one else must know, anything you must tell me, or your father—you can tell Davvid. He'll get the message sent."
He glanced at his lap.
Sayuri, eyes still closed, nodded. It rustled the fabric of his robe, and Kuja leant his head back on the tree, going back to his humming.
.
.
.
The drums could be heard a mile away.
Outside the palace, crowds had already gathered, and she could see nothing but a mass of robes and heads as far as her young gaze extended—the sea ebbed and flowed, threatening to spill into the one gray avenue that parted the crowds. The road started from the palace and wormed all the way to the walls of Rakushou, and hedged on both sides were imperial guards beating back the tide, making way for the foreign party everyone in the palace had whispered about for so long.
Kougyoku stood glued to her window, body nearly half-out like a fishwife in the market, as her royal governess would've scolded her of being. Behind her, servants hurried past in the commotion, carrying back and forth things that would be needed to welcome the new procession.
"Ji-shou," She tasted the foreign word on her tongue as she stared, transfixed at the column of blue-outfitted men slowly making its way on the middle of the gray avenue. Men on grey chargers with blue and green armor led the procession, followed by lines of drummers that beat their instruments as they went, and men with flutes, horns, and lutes shadowed after. The rest of the Jishouan cavalcade was indistinguishable between guardsmen, green-robed attendants, and servants, save for the large palanquin with billowing panels of silver silk at its tail end, carried by at least two dozen men.
This slow blue snake slithered up and up the hill, coming closer and closer to the Imperial Palace, the heart of the Empire, and Kougyoku watched it all with her own two eyes, wondering what the Princess of Jishou was like all the while.
Sayuri Jie, the First Princess of Jishou, the Kou Empire's new ally from the East Kou Sea, Ka Koubun had told her.
Soon enough, the towering red gates of the palatial complex were opened, and the procession shed its cavalry, its ceremonial band.
Only the palanquin advanced, with two men standing at the forefront, leading the way—their many steps were silent, as they walked proudly on the splendid red and gold carpet Kou had laid out for them.
In the light of the afternoon sun and from her window in the Imperial Palace, Kougyoku saw the silhouette of one person, sitting in the middle of the palanquin, shadowed by the swirling silver silk but perched stock-still and carefully nestled like a gift of the greatest value to be presented to Kou.
"Princess!" She turned left to see Ka Koubun bent over, catching his breath. He fanned himself as he straightened, a semi-panicked expression on his face. "Princess, I've been looking all over the palace for you! Come—" He took her wrist in his, and she reluctantly let him drag her away from her window. "—We must take our places beside the Emperor! The party from Jishou has already entered the gates—"
They scurried to the Emperor's wing, Ka Koubun pushing past nobles and servants alike in his haste to get them both to the throne room in time. When they arrived, he hurriedly smoothed her new dress and pushed her to the front of the small crowd of her relatives.
Kouha was already there, smirking at her and tsk-ing at her lateness. As soon as she came to stand beside him, he lifted his palm and licked it, flattening it across her head.
She would've shrieked, were it not for the dozens of eyes already staring at her with disapproval. Instead she disgustedly lifted his wrist off her hair, admonishing him with a whispered "Kouha!"
He shrugged in response. Outwardly, her brother looked nonchalant about the goings-on about the palace, but she could tell with the way his eyes wandered back to the throne room's massive doors that he too was anticipating the arrival of the foreign emissaries from Jishou.
Kouha whispered back as he looked at the far end of the hall, "Your hair was standing up. It looked weird."
To the left end, her father was seated on the dragon throne, no one but her older brother Koumei standing beside him on the imperial dais. They were both wearing new robes, with hues of black and the deepest violet.
Even obscured by the emperor's headdress, she could tell Koutoku was bored—but father has always been like that, she thought with a shiver. He was leaning one elbow on the throne, his other hand resting uselessly on his lap. He would be receiving someone who was soon to be wedded into their family, someone who Kouen had selected with the aid of Koumei, and of course he would be bored, like he always seemed to be. He would not be Koutoku if he wasn't.
And it suddenly made more sense why Kouha would be paying such close attention to the arrival of the Jishouan princess. Kougyoku knew her brothers, knew her father—theirs was a proud family, and they would never settle for anything beneath them.
This woman was Kouen's.
Which made her wonder what perfection was, in Kouen's eyes. After all: would a man like her lord brother want to wed anything else?
The doors opened.
Her father's chamberlain announced: "Sayuri Jie, the First Princess of Jishou, and her party!"
Kougyoku stifled her awe, remembering to keep her mouth closed. But in the throne room of Kou, which had the trappings of their blazing crimson sun, their glorious gold dragon, and their maroon and olive green heraldry, the Jishouan party were wisps clothed in silver and ivory, streaked with blue. They glided up the aisle with less pageantry this time, their foreign robes trailing after them.
Two standard-bearers brought up the front of the party, holding up their flags: on deep, cobalt blue bolts of cloth sat a single woven silver chrysanthemum, plain and simple. These two men then parted, revealing three figures to the throne of the Emperor.
On the left was someone familiar: Kougyoku hid her face in her sleeve as she gazed upon the stoic visage of Kyouya Korechika, the Jishouan ambassador. He looked even more handsome than the few times she'd seen him in palace, wearing a splendid white coat and having arranged his ink black hair differently.
The party, even the standard-bearers who laid down their arms, then got down on their knees, and lowered their heads to the floor, in silent respect to her father.
All except one, who instead swept one low curtsy, genuflecting.
Kougyoku continued to hide her face in her sleeve, looking at the feminine figure of who could only be the Jishouan princess, robed in sky-blue and white, but whose entire upper half was covered with a silver silk veil, completely obscuring her much sought after likeness.
She could only trace with her eyes the veiled profile of someone who she would soon be expected to call sister, from the curve of her forehead to the shape of her elaborate hairstyle, which was outlined in detail because her veil was pinned there.
"What is this," Koutoku mocked. Kougyoku drew one short breath, eyes moving toward her father.
He sat up, shifting forward on his throne. He drawled in his booming voice that filled the cavernous hall—"I am in no mood for games, Korechika."
She looked at the foreigners once again, half-scared of what they might respond.
Her father was the most terrifying person in the world when he was angry.
Korechika spoke, rising from his position on the floor but still kneeling. He clasped both his hands together and dipped his head. "No man must gaze upon any betrothed Jishouan woman before her wedding, Your Imperial Majesty. It is tradition in our country."
"Pah," Her father sneered, his wrinkly, spotted skin shifting to bare his teeth in a mocking smile. He leaned forward, the beads on his headdress swaying as he moved. He commanded: "I will see what pretty trinket my son has defied me for and brought home to the empire."
And all was silent, save for the sound of her own breathing. Shocked, her gaze flit to Koumei, standing beside their father.
His eyes were surveying the Jishouan party with no emotion, but when they landed on the princess they seemed to waver. He turned to Koutoku, mouth open to address the matter, always the voice of reason, her mind breathed, when another voice spoke out—
"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty."
It was a mild voice, a self-possessed voice. The veiled figure of Sayuri Jie seamlessly raised itself from its curtsy.
A beat passed.
Movement from the dais drew her eye. She watched as Koumei then stepped forward from the Emperor's side; he put his fan away, as he went down the steps to offer his hand to their sister-to-be.
Kougyoku could hear Kouha give a small hmm.
They stood apart from each other in a respectable distance, but she watched the foreign princess slowly lift the voluminous, many-layered sleeve of her robes to reveal a wrist with a gold bracelet on it and a hand with a gold ring on its ring finger. Koumei gently took this hand in his, and with a short nod they ascended the steps together.
Koumei led her close to the Emperor, nearly just a foot away from him, and again Sayuri Jie lowered herself, to kneel at their father's feet.
The surprising intimacy of the moment was not lost on anyone. Koumei knew this woman; he wouldn't have offered her his hand so readily otherwise.
And to have to lead her so close to the Emperor...it seemed familiar, almost, like a scene from a play she'd seen before. A play about kings and tyrants and princesses and whores.
But Kougyoku remembered who this woman actually was.
No one could see, could hear whatever words were being slipped in the space between the dragon throne and the place where the First Princess of Jishou stood on her knees in front of the Emperor.
All eyes were on them as Koutoku himself leant forward and lifted the end of the silver veil to hold it up, to behold the sight of his eldest son's bride even before Kouen could.
Koumei's own face was devoid of all emotion, but he wasn't looking at the Jishouan princess; he was watching Koutoku.
This was the sight the Emperor wanted, a sight for his eyes only.
And evidently whatever he saw pleased him, because he soon carelessly dropped his hold of the veil and gave a wicked, resounding laugh that echoed and bounced against the pillars that held the throne room up.
Kougyoku felt her skin crawl, but she just watched as her father then looked at Koumei, a smirk in place. "Your brother has certainly chosen well."
Then he stood and looked down at the princess, smiling.
He waved her off, apparently finished with her. "Take her to the Bamboo Palace."
"That geezer," She heard Kouha mutter underneath his breath.
Ka Koubun urged her on, chattering about how good it would be to curry favor with her future sister. They were walking to the western part of the imperial complex, where the Bamboo Palace was. The gardens were in fine condition today, and Kougyoku might've stopped to feed the carp were it not for the task her vassal advised her to do.
"I have heard whispers that she was friends with your lord brother, Prince Koumei," He continued, and smiled deviously at her. "To think! This afternoon's welcoming was evidence of that, Princess. The Emperor seemed happy enough with her too, we must place ourselves in a favorable position…"
Kougyoku tuned him out, her hands fidgeting in her sleeves. She was unsure how to approach this, and she was uncertain about paying a visit to the veiled princess so early—but…
"Do you think she likes duck, Ka Koubun?" She asked, a bit nervously.
Sayuri Jie, her mind repeated, my future older sister, Kouen—Kouen's betrothed…
I don't know anything about her, she inwardly cried, how am I supposed to earn her favor?
"Of course she does!" He replied, snorting. In his arrogant manner, he reassured her, "She will like your gift, Princess. After such a long and tiring journey, she must surely be hungry."
"Sounds wise enough to me," Kougyoku nodded, slightly heartened by the answer. It was true—and the roasted duck the imperial kitchens made was very good. If she did not like it, Kougyoku had made sure to bring other dishes she might like: braised chicken, tofu noodle soup, pine nuts, hot pot and deer tail were in the menu as well.
The entrance to the Bamboo Palace was hidden by two walls of carefully grown bamboo, with a passage in the middle; her retinue squeezed quietly by the narrow way, before being greeted by the sprawling west wing of the imperial palace where the Jishouan princess was expected to temporarily reside in the days before her wedding. After then she would be moved to Kouen's wing.
The Bamboo Palace was more quiet and secluded than the rest of the complex, but still it was beautiful; the mystery of the Jishouan party seemed to fit the environment. There was a low bridge over the a small pond that led to the gateway, guarded by two stone lions and two Jishouan guards, of the west wing.
They crossed, coming to a stop before the actual palace, built with stone, wood, and a gently sloped gable like the rest of the complex. Before their presence could be alerted to the Jishouan attendants, however, the doors slid open.
"Koumei," She blurted, seeing the unmistakable form of her older brother in the doorway of the Bamboo Palace. He was even wearing his customary purple robes, some scrolls tucked into the crook of his arm, like he usually appeared whenever she bumped into him at the palace.
He was speaking to someone, but when he turned back and saw her at the bottom of the steps, he seemed just as surprised to see her there. "Oh, it's you, Kougyoku."
Koumei turned back, continuing his conversation. Soon enough he nodded—and—and—
Did he just…smile?
The young girl blinked. Koumei was already coming down the steps, Dantalion obscuring the lower half of his face. He asked as he yawned, "What...are you doing here?"
Still surprised, she just continued to stare at him. "I…I…I...I was just going to give something to the princess...?"
"Food?" He looked uninterestedly towards her attendants, who were carrying the aforementioned gift. "How thoughtful. She cannot give you a private audience, I'm afraid."
"I…n-no, brother…" She looked away, flustered, feeling the need to cover her own face. "I just thought…she would be hungry, that's all."
Surprisingly, her older brother's eyes softened at that. He lowered his fan for a moment. "She would appreciate that. Did you bring tea and dumplings?"
"Oh, uh," Her voice grew smaller. "No."
"She would prefer those." Koumei nodded at the Jishouan handmaidens who'd held the door open, and began to receive her gift to the princess. He returned his gaze back to her. "Come back with them another time, then. For now you must come with me; I was to summon you after I returned from here. The Empress sent us missives."
Kougyoku felt her heart stutter. The Empress. She would have to write back immediately—Koumei already began moving in the direction from which she came, and there was time only for one glance at the doors to the Bamboo Palace, which were still open.
What she did not expect, however, was when Ka Koubun and her attendants soon turned their backs to cross the bridge and leave the west wing, and another figure stepped in view of the doorway.
Two handmaidens began sliding the doors closed, but not before Kougyoku glimpsed the profile of a woman in blue, her silver hair swept up in an elaborate hairstyle decorated with gold chains and hairsticks. Matching earrings hung from her lobes, and two golden lions sat at the base of her throat.
She looked up. Unmistakably, this woman was looking at her too, and the crinkles at the corners of her green eyes matched the curve of the smile on her lips.
But Sayuri Jie's smile for Kougyoku was short, because she soon turned back and her handmaidens slid her doors shut.
Kougyoku rushed to catch up to her older brother, who'd stood waiting for her alone outside the walls of bamboo. There was a burning to her cheeks as she called for him to wait up.
Notes:
Well, that was...eventful. Sort of.
(1) So, in this chapter are POV's we admittedly won't get very often; Mameyoshi and Kuja(!). And Kougyoku as well, hey. I'm sorry if people are being vague and weird and overprotective. Plot, y'know.
(2) Kougyoku and Kouha are about 14 now. Are there missing Kou characters? Well it's really hard to write all of them at once. Hence this contrivance, but there's a plot point about this hidden here somewhere.
(3) I'd like to know what's your opinion of this Koutoku; obviously, he's a complex dad figure to all of his children. And I love Kougyoku. So of course, I also really want to do her justice. Any thoughts on these renditions? Constructive criticism is always welcome!
I noticed there are a lot of new readers out here; [waves] wassup fam! Admittedly, this chapter is for you guys and the usual crowd (I missed you guys!), because it's been quite the while. I do hope you'll leave a review if you read this far, because I want to know how this fic is working - any questions, any comments, are always welcome.
Anyone who guesses where I got the chapter title from, pitch your oneshots/AU ideas at me. Just for fun, y'know? See you in the next chapter!