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

Alright here we go!-

She looked as beautiful as I remembered her to be. Though this time, much more of her was exposed to me. Her dress was less of a dress and more of a thing held together by lace and pure luck. Her breast were encased in an integrate piece of leather, with straps of shiny black that criss crossed over her chest and wove up to wrap around her slender throat. The skin of her stomach, as creamy as milk, was nearly entirely bare, save for the small straps that connected her top to her long sheer skirt that hugged her hips and thighs so tightly I wondered if she could even walk. It seemed even witches felt modesty, for she also wore a long robe, though you could still see the glow of her pale skin beneath the pitch black lace.

She did not move as I looked her wardrobe over, and it took me far too long to feel embarrassed by her attire and the thought of why she was wearing such revealing garments. Here, in my father's study.

Though, thankfully, Clark was nowhere to be seen.

"General," She spoke, her voice so soft yet felt like slugs worming into my ears. "I have been waiting for us to run into one another." That sparked my interest, remembering Bronzes words regarding the witch covens. "I was beginning to worry that you were avoiding me after our awkward encounter in the dining hall."

I counted my breathing, did not let my hands move an inch at my sides. "I wasn't aware you were still here to avoid. So much has happened since our first meeting, I've simply been very busy."

"Ah, yes. How is the back healing?" Her teeth seemed to shine as she smiled modestly.

I would not clench my jaw, I would not pause. "Very well, thank you for your concern."

"It truly was a shame," She sulked, and I opened my mouth to defend my father's actions, when she cut me off. "But, Clark promised me that, next time, he'll let me watch."

I stumbled. A very small, barely noticeable slip. Though her eyes widened just slightly, telling me without words that she had seen. And had enjoyed every millisecond. This woman seemed to know exactly who I was, and how I handled things. And I felt an itch at the back of my neck I didn't dare scratch. The amusement on her cold face brought the words out of me, "Only if I allow you to live long enough."

She smiled again, and then pursed her lips slightly, "Are we dropping the cordial Ladies act, already? I had so many passive remarks planned."

"I don't make it a habit of conversing with witches."

"No, but you will." She stepped towards me, her long robe flowing out behind her on a phantom wind.

Don't you dare cower.

"You will do a great many things you thought you'd never do. Though," She paused right in front of me, so close I nearly gagged at the stench. She thought for a moment, "none of them will alter what is to come. You have locked onto your course, Orihime Inoue, and even your Gods could not change it, though try they will."

I didn't allow the words to sink in, I didn't let myself ask the questions that rose inside me. "You speak of years in the future… I wonder what that means for you?"

The witch laughed, "Oh my dear, do not worry about my fate. I am more durable than you'd like to imagine." That didn't sound promising.

She looked me over, eyeing the Silver Armor with a knowing smile. She moved slightly and I locked my feet in place, casually steadying my frame. But she did not move to attack but instead to observe.

She circled me, so slowly it was almost painful. Her fingers grazed the hair draping down my back, sweeping it like a curtain. Though she was careful not to make contact with anything else. "You were a man in your past life," She stated as if reading it from a book, "Strong and sturdy. A warrior much like you are now. Though the man you were before, lived in a time far later than our own. In a culture that does not yet exist." She leaned forward behind me her lips soft against the hollow of my throat. I stayed still. I needed her to keep talking, to keep telling me what she could and couldn't do. "He died young too. In a conquered land. Taken for a woman who did not want to be had, destroyed for the pride of men like you. You had fought for love, and then had died for it. Poetic, I think."

"This land you speak of, in a culture not yet known… I wonder if the witch covens survive long enough to see it." She stepped away, resurfacing again in front of me. Witches liked everyone to believe they were immortal, that they were Goddesses walking the earth that could never be killed, but while they live far longer than any human lifespan, they too would one day die. But their magic comes at a deep price, "It is known that witches don't get multiple lives, only one very long one. So when I was fighting and dying for love, you must have already been swimming in the sorrow of the underworld for thousands of years. Don't worry, I'm sure Hades isn't as cruel as history paints him."

Her upper lip raised in a sneer. She didn't seem to like her own mortality being thrown in her face. It was my turn to grin.

She moved to lunge, likely to rip my throat out, but the door opened and a copper head popped in. We both watched closely as the man came into full view, leaving the door slightly open beside him.

I turned to watch her face as the witch looked at Ryley. Her eyes became slightly dark and glazed, her lips opening just slightly, and then the next second she was alert once more. She looked at me and then back to Ryley, realization seeming to dawn on her face, and then the demon witch threw her head back and laughed.

So deep and guttery, from so deep inside her it was clear she had no power over it. Her hands clenched her stomach as a small tear fell from her eye.

I growled, knowing she saw who Ryley was inside his head. She laughed harder, and my hand flinched, aching more than life itself to draw Vladimir and plunge it deep into that bubbling stomach. The mocking at my forced marriage mingled in with every giggle set my whole body on fire.

I would kill her. I would destroy her. I'd demolish her.

No.

I couldn't let her inside my head. I needed to stay clear minded and maintain my aloofness.

Turning on my heel I stalked to my fiancee, who seemed almost frozen. Likely a response to the prodding of the witch inside his mind. I gripped him by the arm and dragging him out of the room.

"Be sure to keep that armor close to your chest, Orihime!" The witch hollered, followed by more intense laughter that trailed us all the way down the hall.

I ushered Ryley down the hall, trying to keep my pace even and unrushed.

"Who was that woman?" Ryley asked, innocently. Though I could detect a slight quiver inside that calm facade. It seemed even someone as ill equipped could detect the incredible maliciousness that woman radiated out.

How to answer such a question… Truthfully, I did not know, myself. But that was not what gave me pause. Ryley, while kind, was not an ally. Not in the new sense I found myself needing. He had given me an almost oath, same as Sam's, but less concrete; less binding. Swearing he would punish my father for what he had done to me. But I knew nothing about Ryley or his seriousness when it came to such promises.

"The king's newest conquest, no doubt." I answered, safely. Not an entire truth, yet also not an outright lie.

"She acted very… familiar with you."

I rolled my eyes, with an annoyed tone replying, "Most strangers do."

I glanced sideline at his face, wondering if, perhaps, he would sense the underlying meaning in those words. My eyes were back on the hall ahead when he turned halfway towards me. "Do you meet with all kinds of people?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what exactly is your role in your father's affairs? Are you apart of all his decisions?"

I cleared my throat to hide the scoff, "Not usually."

"Even though you're Heir?"

I watched the way his eyes flickered at the word, noted the slight edge to his tone and how his footsteps landed heavier. "Well, there are a few things I have a hand in. He will sometimes come to me for guidance on certain things, though that is very rare."

"What kind of guidance?"

"Strategy. Movements of our foreign troops. Where they are versus where they should be. My king took the throne at a very young age, and was not General for long before he ascended the dais. And those few years he commanded were times of peace."

Ryley paused, "Are you skilled in strategy?"

I debated how to answer, "As much as can be expected from someone trained in such things."

"Have you ever played chess?"

Every damn day of my life. "I use to play a lot, when I was young."

Nonali loved the game, and had somehow convinced me to play with him. Though, I could have never hoped to beat him. We had played everyday for two years, and I had never won. He had a way of predicting precisely what I would do. And he had a plan for every move I made. Our games would go very quickly.

"We should play together. I haven't had an opponent in months- even before leaving home. My brothers were never interesting in playing, not that I'd have wanted to face their military minds."

I pushed down the slight insult but there was still a slight edge to my tone, "And yet you wish to face me?"

He grinned, sheepishly. "I meant no disrespect, of course. I know you would probably beat me within a few moves. My brothers all spoke so highly of your cunning mind that I was surprised when I found you had grown into such a beautiful woman. They are usually more vocal about those sorts of things."

Yes, I had met all four of Ryleys older brothers during the war and of course when I had trained those few months with my betrothed in the North when we were still unaware of our joined future. They all shared his looks, with dark hair and dark eyes but I had formed a high respect for them while in the South. Ryley had been born eight years after Brandt, the fourth born, and Lucas had gotten old by his last sons birth. And could not find the strength to be harsh and warrior like towards his youngest. Because of such Ryley had been raised with kisses and warmth by his mother.

But his brothers… I was hesitant to admit I had admired his eldest brother, Cuyler when I was a girl, long before I became Heir. And, while I had forgotten what it was like to be attracted to a male in the years that followed my time in the pits, the Southern Rebellion had almost reminded me.

"Though, I should have guessed when a few even voiced anger when it was me my father chose to wed you."

I started at that, my head whipping around. I had not realized it had been a real choice for his father to make. My mouth opened, about to ask which of his handsome brothers had protested, but then shut it, tightly. It made no difference, and I was not some love struck teenager who cared about the handsome warriors wishing for my hand in marriage.

I mentally struck myself for even feeling that small pride, while I should have been angry at the thought of being sold like cattle. Bartered over like some shiny toy to be played with. "They no doubt buried that disappointment with ale and women."

Ryley laughed lowly with something like slumbering bitterness, "Maybe ale, but they seemed pretty sober when they cornered me the night before I was to leave."

Shocked, I barked, "They beat you?"

Ryley quickly waved his hands before him, "No, never." As if I was crazy to even think such a thing, "They were more suspicious about how I was chosen. I don't even know myself."

I did.

Ryley had no military training. He had no real claim to the North unless all four of his brothers were to die young, without leaving behind their own heirs. And I was Heir to the Capitol, so my husband would clearly be forced to live with me within the city walls. Cuyler was Heir to the North. Elof was General and second in line. Garth was Commander of the Nightwolves. And Brandt was the most skilled bowman in any corner of the world. Four powerful heirs. Four protectors of the North.

Within that mix of powerhouses, Ryley was expendable.

Terrible but true.

I wondered which son would have given to me if Ryley had also been trained in combat. I wondered if they would have expected me submit to them. To bow.

I pushed the thought away. I had decided the moment my knees touched marble, that I would never bow again.

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