I hope this came quick enough for everyone!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters.

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"I must say, it is a relief to see you out and about." Ryley cut into my simmering silence. "Especially with the ball approaching so quickly, now I won't have to face the world leaders alone." He laughed.

"Ball?"

He glanced at me, eyes wide, "Your father wishes for our union to be blessed by the Cardinal Leaders during the full moon… Did I forget to mention that?" I nodded. "Sorry- just with everything going on,"

"Don't worry about it." I muttered slowly, my brows scrunching together.

Blessed by the Cardinal Leaders? Meaning I would house them and they would drink wine and whore all night. In the old years they would all make grand speeches and bless us with a holy item from their homelands, but such a thing had, of course, turned into more of an event to appease their need for extravagant parties. Clark has never bothered to care about such ancient traditions. And the full moon was just a few short days away. Bringing all the leaders together during such a tense time of indecisive war could only complicate thing. This blessing was just an excuse to get them all here... Clark had an angle to exploit.

And this meant Kisuke would also be returning.

Mixed feelings of relief but also a deeper, more unnerving feeling of doubt. Bonnie had sent away all of her allies, for fear the woman in black would find them. And if Clark's witch turned out to be a Whisperer… Witches could smell one another, sense the magic thumping through another's blood, could they also sense the bonds certain people have with those witches?

Bronze had said Ichigo was particularly bonded with his witch, that their brains were so similar they could be formed as one for a short while, would that small magic be enough for her to smell?

My heart pounded beneath my armor, so heavy I thought it would fall into the pit of my stomach. I needed to learn more about the covens. This feeling of ignorance and being drastically uninformed was making my skin itch.

Ryley's fingers grazed that same itching skin at my wrist and I forced my body to relax the tension I hadn't realized had worked its way into my shoulders. "Hey," He said, misunderstanding my worry. "I'll be with you the whole time."

I smiled, small and genuine. It was kind… he was kind. And I had been nothing but cold. Avoiding any sort of alone time and not bothering to keep up my end of the conversation. He had not chosen this, either. "I think a game of chess should help clear my hesitations. You free for a game?"

The silver in his eyes seemed to shine bright, gleaming as he grinned, "For you? Always."


The days came and left quickly. I hated how every second slowed when I wished for them to pass swiftly, but when it came to a day I dreaded, it sprung up in no time at all.

I had spent the whole day in bed, buried under the covers, hoping they would all forget I existed. But three hours before sunset my youngest maid- not a day over eighteen- delicately entered and filled my bath. I groaned when I heard her inch towards me, then felt small guilt when I heard her small gasp, peeking out from my cave to see his thin legs shaking like a newborn fawn.

It was the only reason I did not protest when she insisted she bathe me herself. She did not look into my face, keeping her head lowered. I watched her the entire time. Her face was round, her cheeks chubby and her eyes too small, but she was pretty. In a delicate sort of way.

I felt I had seen her somewhere before.

It came to me while she was combing out the knots in my hair, "You were given at the Gathering."

The girl jumped at the sound of my voice, her hands clenching, pulling a few strands from my head, I hissed.

"I'm so sorry!" She shrieked. And I shook my head in dismissal, leaning back once more. "But, yes. I was."

Her voice told me she was not very happy about it, and I understood. We had both been sold by our fathers that day. "What is your name?"

"Tatski, young Heir." She answered, faintly.

"And do you like it here, Tatski?" I knew I would not get a real, honest answer, but the question needed to be asked.

Tatski responded immediately, her tone harsher than just moments before, "It is not the life I would have chosen."

I blinked at the directness, "You had picked out a life already then?"

Sheepishness wove into her words, "No, not really. I had never put much thought into it but I had always imagined the life of a Lady to be a glorious one."

And now she was washing my hair. I suppose it would seem glamorous when looking up at the High Courts. Living within the shiny capitol with handsome suitors and large parties. I could imagine it through her eyes. I did not share it but I could see her idolism. "Believe me, Tatski, I envy your life, and would gladly reverse our circumstances."

She only nodded, either agreeing or not believing it her place to disagree.

Tatski dried me off with not even a blush, and rushed to fetch the dress I had selected for my engagement party. I stood before the mirror, waiting, stark naked. I looked myself over with unkind eyes. Not even having time to raise my lip in a sneer before Tatski returned.

She motioned for me to sit and I moved to do so quickly, only remembering my nudity when she handed me a silk robe. She moved her fingers over my scalp, her nails slightly grazing the sensitive skin, my eyes rolled back.

I must have dozed off because when my eyes opened what felt like seconds later, my hair was beautifully arranged and soft music had filled the quiet space.

It flowed down my back, unrestricted. Tatski had pulled two thick pieces away from my face and had braided them into neat, yet very complicated looking braids that tucked into the diadem of pure silver she had placed atop my head. The silver itself was as thin as wire and wove around itself in elegant curves, merging to meet the wide leaves that seemed to be grown from the tiara itself.

And my face, normally very pale to begin with, was as smooth as silk, my lips a dark and fierce red that reminded me of the color of dried blood- though i doubt that was Tatski's core motivation. Though she looked oddly smug when I glanced at her in the mirror.

"We should hurry to get you dressed, the music started a few minutes ago."

The dress itself was lovely, it was a pure white lace, that seemed even cleaner against my skin, which seemed almost tan in comparison. The neckline plunged down far enough to make my cheeks redden but the long lace sleeves made up for the exposed flesh. Delicate crystal beading and lace made up the entirety of the bodice before merging flawlessly into a long ball gown. The lace continued down past my waist, before casually disappearing. And while it was beautiful, it was not something I would have normally picked for myself.

But I had picked this dress because of its back. Or lack thereof.

The lingering scabs had flaked away and now every lash my back had taken was a smooth pink line. They glistened in the candlelight and I smiled. If I could not embrace the things I had endured, all the torturing and beatings, then I would only be allowing myself to remain plagued by them. I was tired of being imprisoned within myself.

Tatski looked me over as well, ensuring she had completed her task to her best ability. And I would say she had. For I had planned to walk into the ballroom with my pretty dress, hair resembling a bird's nest and Vladimir hanging at my waist.

She gave me a barely there smile, merely a curve in the hard line of her mouth and then left the room as smoothly as she had entered.

Alone with no one but myself, I looked at myself once again.

I could barely recognize the lines of my face, or the silhouette of my body. If Bronze saw me now she would probably walk right past me and not even realize. Ichigo would smirk and say I finally looked like a proper princess.

My resolve hardening, I walked from my chambers, and down the long hallway towards where I could hear that ball had already begun. I stopped in front of the doors, putting a hand out to halt the men from opening them.

So idiotic to be nervous, but I suddenly felt so bare. Was it the absence of my weapons? Or of the usual swagger I possessed when carrying them? I felt a very abrupt respect for the woman I saw around the court, it took a certain amount of nerve to appear as your best self, knowing there would always be someone who did not like what they saw.

But I was Orihime Inoue, of two royal bloods and I would not cower. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I nodded towards the guards and the doors, heavy and creaking, opened before me.

The room, filled to the brink, grew silent as I walked in, every pair of eyes drifting to me. Each expression was different, some men looked on appreciatively, while others sneered in a knowing way. I wanted to kill them all, I wanted to rip their eyes out of their skulls and shove them down their throats. And I was not just a soldier, or a warrior, I was a woman and being that alone would give me the tools to devastate them. And while their stares made me feel completely dirty, I would have taken them over those of the women any day.

I'd fought many fights, bathed in the blood of my enemies and laughed, and yet the glaring eyes of my fellow sex seemed enough to shake my very bones.

I didn't let my discomfort show on my face, I walked confidently across the grand ball room, through the clearing they all made for me. I saw Ryley standing next to my father, dressed in the sharp colors of the North. His broad shoulders and chest encased in a black like pure night, and silver shone inside the threads, making him appear to shimmer in the light. He looked like a clear northern night.

Something about the way his eyes watched me as I walked towards him had my face flushing. I took up a place at his side. Perhaps, I should begin referring to it as my place.

I felt his hand slide over the bare skin of my lower back as he leaned close, looking like he was to kiss my cheek in greeting, but his mouth was hot as he breathed into my ear, "You look spectacular."

My cheeks flamed hotter, "Thank you."

My mind floated back down to my body and I had to shake it clear, discreetly.

I sobered up instantly, as I noticed Clark's eyes fixated on us. Seeming locked on to the hand Ryley kept at my waist. And that hand was suddenly less welcomed.

My father was dressed finely, his oxblood shirt tucked neatly into his black slacks. On his shoulders- where his armor usually sat- was instead thick wolf's fur, that flowed down into a dark cape. A gift from the North, no doubt. On his head sat a crown made of gold, woven into the frame were black and red rubies as large as a silver coin. Truthfully, he looked to be my polar opposite.

Which only made me appreciate my choices even more.

"You do look lovely, Orihime." He said, halfheartedly.

I nodded in thanks, hating the acknowledgment. I had not spoken to him since that night in my bedroom, when he'd held a knife to my eye. And, somehow, this scene felt far more threatening. At least then I had known what he was planning, at least then there had been no one to watch my mutilation.

A tall man with hair as white as snow, such a contrast to his midnight skin, came up behind my father, his face seemed to be cut from stone, no emotion showing in the black of his hollow eyes. I recognized him instantly, and as those cold eyes locked in on my every move, I knew he remembered me.

Clark turned and the man's eyes slid from my face unwillingly. His voice dripped in a thick southern accent, "My king, I am sorry for our delayed arrival. My generals were overly cautions in our travels due to the recent attacks outside your walls."

"No need for apologies, the bride to be only just made her grand appearance." Clark's smile was not kind. "You remember my daughter, don't you, Santos?"

I could see a vein strain under his dark skin. I held my breath as he once again regarded me. My back straightening under Ryley's hand, my chin raising ever so slightly.

"How could I forget. How have you been, Bewaarder van Sondes?"

Keeper of Sins. Fitting.

"I have been well, Lord Santos. And your homeland?"

"As well as could be expected. We are seeing steady progression."

I smirked, giving a mocking tilt to my head, "Yes, I've heard the crops have finally sprouted after three years of infertility." His face remained neutral, not taking the bait. Clark watched our interaction closely, switching his attention between our faces. Ryley only watched me. I wondered if he knew the cause of our hostility, or if he had not been schooled in the Southern War. "Perhaps I should make another trip down south. I'd like to see how the land has healed since my last visit."

I was being cruel, flaunting the excessive damage to their sacred earth. Earth I had turned to glass with the flames that burned down their villages and destroyed their crops, and with it their very way of life.

"We would be honored to house you." Santos purred, a rarely seen grin sweeping over his lips, "And of course we would also accept your Northern spouse as our guest. Maybe you can both come for the honeymoon, our hot springs are the best in the world. Perfect to soothe sore... muscles."

I smiled politely, while Ryley's hand tensed against my skin, "The honor would be ours."

Thankfully, Clark had grown bored with our conversation, there was a small silence before he swept his cloak back with a dramatic flap. "Come Santos, let us find Kisuke and Lucas. It has been too long since we have toasted in one another's honor."

I ghosted a look around the large ball room. Too many people to count. Not enough soldiers at the exits and windows. I would need to find Devon and reprimand him for it. I spotted six escape routes before I was even done surveying the far wall.

Clark had ventured to the far left corner, his fur lined back to me. There were thirteen people close enough to kill him before he could even think to turn his head. Only seven of them wearing loose enough clothing to conceal a weapon. It would take them four steps to slit his throat, then fifty paces towards the nearest window. Only half that to the hall door, but the hall would be too hard to maneuver. Too many variables, not enough time to work through them all before a dozen soldiers were on them.

The king swung his arm out while talking, his drink splashing out on the floor in the process. He held it out for only a second before returning it in front of himself, but it would have been plenty of time for someone to stroll by and slip something into his cup. Poison would be the best option for such a packed space. Delayed enough to give the assassin time to slip away, people would first think him choking. No panic, no rushing around, no one would even see the assailant leave, walking out without ever being suspected.

I flinched when Ryley spoke again into my ear, "Dance with me?"

I flinched again, but for an entirely different reason. "I don't think you'll find me a very good partner." And I meant that in more ways than one.

He looked ecstatic, "So there is something you can't do. Thank the Gods."

I pursed my lips as he laughed, "It's not that I can't," No one had ever asked me to dance before. I always assumed it was my reputation that kept the men away, but I'm sure the fact that I usually bring my weapons to events like these and sit in a corner stalking people with my eyes did not help me any. "I've just never needed to."

Ryley clicked his tongue, "Well, there is a first time for everything. Besides, such a beautiful dress deserves to be swung around on the dance floor, don't you agree?" He took my hand lightly, barely gripping the tips of my fingers and led me out into the empty floor. He brought me close to his chest, his hand firm on my waist, tightening his hold on my hand. We stood motionless for a moment, and I looked back to the corner Clark had been inhabiting, he had not moved, but more people had gathered around him, to listen to one of his exaggerated stories. Twenty people around him, fourteen close enough to-

Ryley gave me a slight nudge with his hand. "Leave that tactical mind behind for tonight. Stay here, with me."

He moved us then. It took me a few steps to adjust to being led. Ryley was patient, not caring when I would pull away slightly while instinctively trying to lead him. And he would smile encouragingly when I would step on his toes, or bump my forehead against his chin. And it wasn't until the end of the second song that I felt I resembled anything close to graceful.

The music was soft, mostly harps and flutes. It was wonderful and light, just fast enough to keep me interested while I focused on my steps. I began to enjoy the twirl of my skirts as Ryley spun us around the room. And I started to appreciate the freedom and ease of letting Ryley choose which direction I went, in letting him decide which steps I would take.

He spun me quickly, and my hair- longer than I had realized- whipped him right in the face. My hand shot up from his shoulder to cup his stinging cheek, "I'm sorry." I snickered.

He grinned, with a small shake of his head. Ryley's eyes were soft as he stared down at me, his cheek surprisingly rough beneath my palm. I found myself stroking my thumb over his defined cheekbone and his eyes fluttered. His chest expanded, nearly brushing mine, while he breathed in a deep sigh of contentment.

It felt peculiar, completely foreign, for someone to enjoy my touch. Instead of cringing away from it.

I slid that hand off his cheek and down his throat, letting it stay there, my fingers tangling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. And when he smiled again, I smiled back. He seemed almost shocked, his own hand moving to touch my face, the back of his knuckles brushing the line of my jaw.

"There you are…" He whispered, and I felt a shift within myself, a shift that told me to lean into that touch. To close my eyes and allow myself to become the young girl in the flowy dress, dancing with a handsome prince, to lose myself inside this rare moment when I felt so light.

I wanted so much to be that girl. I would give anything to be her.

But the spell was broken when Ryley turned his head, as a thick male digit tapped him on the shoulder. "May I cut in?" Said the intruder.

Ryley took an unwilling step back, revealing the man to me. And all that weight that had been lifted during my steps and twirls all crashed back into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. All it had taken was a few minutes of weightlessness for me to forget how crushing this world could be.

Grimmjow, General of the Southern army, extended his hand to me, "Shall we, Heir?"

Ryley did not step away, his hand a now familiar weight on my waist, he looked at me, watching carefully. His eyes had hardened, and I knew he could see the changes Grimmjow's presence had brought to my entire body.

I glanced once more towards my father, who now had a woman close to my age perched in his lap. No, he had not sent Grimmjow to offset me, he seemed to have completely forgotten who this party was meant to bless.

No, it was not my father that was staring directly at me from yards away. Santos Kael, Lord of the Southern Rim, watched us very intently, his face giving away nothing of his intentions.

I gave him a slight nod of my head, accepting his clear challenge. And then I reached out and took his generals hand.

Let the game begin.

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I'm so happy with the progression this story has made and I just want to thank everyone who takes the time to review on my chapters

You have no idea what all this has mean to me.

Till next time-