Recommendation: hey guys! I have a friend who's got another great magi OC-fic in the works; it's called Appetence by fianna2452 - if you're reading Pale Fire this fic might interest you too! It's definitely worth a follow if you're into Sinbad, worldbuilding, and royalty, and it's well-written as well; please check it out if you've the time!
9
Snake in the Lion's Den
The next day brought a few more uncomfortable revelations.
Sayu had gotten up relatively early—there were many pre-wedding customs in Jishou that involved meticulous planning in her day-to-day routine; being a member of the royal family, she could not just ignore them. If anything, she'd stuck to them religiously, in her first days as a young, fourteen year old bride.
Now, she was just tired. There were how many months between her betrothal and her wedding, next spring; there was much to do. Now, she preferred to do her own thing, as long as it kept—however barely—within the rules of propriety.
There was a certain kind of melancholy attached to her actions as she brushed her hair. For five years she'd worn her hair down, with little to no ornamentation—the court had dubbed it 'the widow's hair' for her status as a widow, and how it exemplified a 'widow's humility'; not soon after, the practice had spread itself like some unavoidable plague she had to hear about every time she sat down to listen to court gossip.
Even the widows of the most lowly court officials wear their hair down these days, my Princess, Fuu had once told her with a laugh.
Sayu hadn't known what to say. In Caera, she'd always worn her hair up, with painstakingly prepared curls and gold wreaths worn like a diadem; when she returned to Jishou after her first marriage, she'd simply been too heartbroken to put so much effort into her hair and be reminded of what once was, and thus settled by plainly letting her hair down.
She now handed her brush to Fuu, who began to twist and shape her silver hair into a modified version of the traditional betrothed's hairstyle. The original style was made to suit young girls transitioning into adulthood, as their first marriage would imply; Sayu had already made the transition, and the look would undoubtedly be silly on her, a once-married woman of twenty-three.
So Fuu roped her hair into something simpler, more elegant than the original style called for; nothing too tall and ostentatious, but tasteful and regal. She first shaped her hair into something akin to a cross, before shaping her remaining hair into two buns behind each ear, to balance the look.
When she was finished, Fuu took a step back to gaze at her work and said, "Princess, I think you ought to think about getting a wig."
Sayuri patted her hair in amazement, feeling how tight the strands had been pulled and contorted. She patted the top of the cross, which would undoubtedly be the perfect place for some metal ornament to sit. She twisted her head left and right, testing the weight of the new hairstyle, wincing a bit at the strain her scalp felt. "I'll be gone for most of the betrothal, but I think you're right."
She didn't want to be bald by the time she actually married. Jishouan betrothals were usually long and a wrought out affair, and brides were expected to wear the same hairstyle until the day of their wedding; if a bride wasn't careful, the style could eventually cause bold spots at the top of the head, where the hairstyle placed the most strain.
And even if she wore a different, more relaxed version of the style—and even if she didn't at all intend to wear her hair as such for the rest of her betrothal, especially when I'm traveling after this whole thing, she remembered—she didn't want to take risks. Even Sayu placed some amount of pride in the Jie family's iconic silver hair. "I do wonder how difficult it'd be to find a wig for us, though. Perhaps when I return to the capital, they'll have something prepared for me."
Fuu was flitting between her vanity, where Sayu sat, and the rest of her room; the attendant laughed as she went away and returned with several small chests that she spread before Sayuri. "It's not going to be very hard. I'm sure they'll think of something."
Try as Fuu might hide it Sayu knew she was having fun being able to do something to her hair—it had grown long over the five years she'd left it uncut and unadorned. The princess was at least happy for that, in light of recent events.
Sayu looked at the chests. They were filled with jewels and chains and hair sticks tipped with precious metals; most of them were wrought in metal, encrusted with precious stones—of course, she had a sizeable amount of gold jewelry from Caera, whose stones glittered and winked at her with rubies and sapphires and emeralds. These were vibrant jewels she decided not to wear; instead she went for something closer to home, sticking to her silver hair ornaments encrusted with pale jades and smooth pastel stones.
When that was over with, she was dressed; again, tradition dictated she wear heavy layers, but she chose to keep her style light and mobile—she wore one splendid white under robe with sky blue embroidering, next she wore a lilac-colored robe, made of very fine crepe silk; it featured nothing but three long cranes standing beside a periwinkle stream running along the padded hem. All throughout the robe, it was painted with extensive silver highlights; the feathers of the cranes, the rise and tide of the stream, the eye and bill of each bird.
Her wide and heavy sash of silver silk brocade was tied in a simple knot, for over this she wore one last layer; her overcoat, which she kept to a pale cherry blossom pink, and bore five of the Jie family's crests—two near her lapels, two on the backs of her sleeves, one sitting above the base of her neck.
These seemed like fitting colors, now that summer was drawing to a close and today would be the last day to wear such light and buoyant shades; armed with a fan she tucked into her sash, Sayuri made her way to her first engagement of the day as Ren Kouen's intended.
Kuja was, to say the least, speechless.
There already was a room set up for her, with a curtain separating her from whoever guests she would be receiving; while she sat on a raised platform, the curtain hung a few inches above the platform floor, so the only thing truly visible to a person before it would be the sleeves and the robe of the betrothed sitting. She'd heard some noblemen call it tantalizing—like the only glimpse of a newly-blossomed woman, when all the rest was covered—and apparently the idea that such a vulnerable beauty would be withheld from them until the day this new woman would be wed to another man was enough to drive them mad.
But she had no patience for such things; she'd gone barefaced before the court countless times, and the pretense of her 'purity' being kept by this curtain was just that: pretense.
Some attendant had announced: Magister Alihaddra Kujahabar Salman, the First Prince of Ariavat, and Sayuri had to roll her eyes at the pomp and pageantry.
Sitting as she was before the curtain, her vision was just as obscured as her observer. The curtain was made of panels of crepe silk, however, so she was free to accept things handed to her by parting it with her sleeve.
The gauzy sight of Kuja entered her room. His figure looked confused as to where she was, because he was looking around her room.
He probably thinks its empty, she stifled a chuckle.
"Kuja," she called with a slight laugh from behind her curtain.
His head snapped towards her direction. "Oh, there you are." He said sheepishly, coming near her platform.
"Careful now," Sayuri sighed, "sit only as close as you dare."
She looked around the room. "Leave us," she said to the few attendants lingering. She had no chaperone either, but Fuu would do, for propriety's sake. Kuja watched the people leave, before sitting down a few feet away from her with what she thought as a raised brow.
Sayuri couldn't be sure. When Fuu slid the doors closed, Sayu gathered her sleeves and scooted forward to the edge of the platform, parting her curtain around her elaborate hairstyle and poking her head out.
And that was where her friend was stunned: he sat back with his widened amber eyes, speechless for a few moments.
"Sa…Sayuri," He said with a laugh at last, and she bit her lip at his reaction.
She could feel a slight flush rising to her cheeks as he continued to take in the changes in her appearance. She bobbed her head a bit, making the metal in her hair ornaments jingle merrily. "Too much?"
He vigorously shook his head, and it made the lush black curls crowning his head bob back and forth as well. "Not—not at all."
This was the first time she'd seen him so wordless. She chuckled and stood, joining him on the straw mats and sitting before him. It revealed the full extent of her preparations that morning, and she ostentatiously smoothed her robes in front of him. "What do you think?"
He was still looking at her with a growing smile, wonder and delight dancing in his amber irises. "This is the first time I've ever seen you like this," He said as he crossed his arms, lifting a hand to tap his chin with his ringed fingers. "It's quite something else, let me tell you."
She thought about that. It was certainly true; Kuja had been sent to the Magisterium just before she'd gotten engaged the first time. And after that, they hadn't seen each other until her marriage was over.
Sayu nodded, unexpectedly reminded of why she was dressed as such. "Well, Ren Kouen's proposal is something else."
"That reminds me," Here he produced something from behind his back, something she'd failed to see when he first came in. It was a box; a silver box, wrought with curling, intricate motifs of jasmine flowers and swallows. It was more flat than it was tall; Kuja presented it with a secretive smile, and the morning light glinted from the rubies on his fingers down to the silver of his treasure. "From my sister. When news of your engagement broke, my sister had it sent."
The princess fought to stifle her surprise. "That was only yesterday!"
Her friend chuckled as he slowly opened the box, "Magic, Sayu. One of the Magisterium's latest projects; the Ariavatan royalty has command of it for now, though usually my sister uses it for emergencies only. Yesterday was suitable."
"I can't imagine…" She drifted off as the box opened to reveal an identical set of two gold bracelets; she looked at Kuja, almost whispering, "…may I?"
"Go ahead," he smiled, "they're yours."
"Mine?" She breathed, holding one of the bracelets up delicately. It was heavy and thick, as wide as her pinky; the inner side was covered with more floral designs—lotus, jasmine, chrysanthemums—of pink enamel; the outer side sported uncut diamonds whose ends were joined together by twin snakes. "It's beautiful."
"I thought you'd like it."
She looked at him, disbelief written all over her face. "I can't accept this. It's—it's too valuable."
"Well, it's already here, Sayuri. Who am I supposed to give it to?"
My sister, her mind immediately replied. "What about—everyone thought Mameha was going to get married. This must be her present, not mine."
Kuja laughed, shaking his head. "That's crude, Sayuri. I do have a present for her, but this is something else entirely. It's from my sister; you know how she's fond of you."
"Oh." Sayu said. She looked at him, gripping the bracelet in her hand. "Well—I'll tell her how much I love it, and how grateful I am to her, we are leaving for Ariavat later, I mean…"
Unexpectedly, he sighed: he took her hand in his, patting it. "About that. I came to say goodbye, early."
"What?" She stared at him, dumbfounded. She put her other hand down, cradling the bracelet in her lap. "Early? You can't mean you're leaving. We're leaving together."
"That's the point," Her friend said. Kuja looked troubled for a moment, but then he looked her in the eyes and said unflinchingly, "I've been called back. When your gift arrived last night, the magisters had a message for me too. Something of great importance has come up. I need to leave this morning for the Ethersand."
That was the desert the Magisterium was located in; Sayu's heart sank to her stomach. She'd been increasingly looking forward to spending the next few weeks—she'd dared even think months—with him, after the disaster that had come out of the Kou-Jishou negotiations. She tried, "Can't we take the same boat, at the very least? Delay your trip by just a few hours?"
"I'm sorry," Kuja said, and he drew close, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. He took one deep breath before smiling again, for her.
Sayu let her hopes die right then; once Kuja looked at peace with something, there was no changing his mind, no matter what anyone would say—like every magister, he had the uncanny ability to detach himself so admirably, whenever the situation called for it.
She was probably being foolish, because the Magisterium's matters were nothing she would ever allow herself to get in the way of normally. She was probably being irrational, too emotional after the letdowns and the realizations her new betrothal had brought her.
His thumb, which bore the ring of a lion with a great emerald in its jaw, brushed her cheek. It rose to where it hovered over the corner of her eye, as if ready to brush away a tear or two.
"I'll be back for your sending away party," He murmured, "I'll bring you a wedding present, this time. I promise."
Only then did she realize he'd been wearing the same clothes he wore to the banquet, the night he arrived in Tohouku; his long camel-colored coat, embroidered with ebony swallows and vines twisting around each other in endless circles; his boots, worn with use and still carrying a light dusting of sand from the desert.
Sayuri blinked, gazing into the eyes of her oldest friend. "You don't need to promise," She said, a bit mournfully. "You always keep your word."
He just chuckled. He had this exquisite tint to his dark, smooth umber skin—ochre, he once said jokingly. She would miss it, along with his smiles, his voice, his curly hair, his long fingers with the rings.
When he lifted his cheeks to grin at her, Sayu felt her brows pull together and her forehead wrinkling, unable to reconcile herself to the fact that he was leaving, again.
"Princess," Fuu called from the doors.
They both looked up; Kuja with a genial expression, Sayu with the complete opposite. Fuu nodded towards outside. "It's Ambassador Korechika."
Kuja looked at her, and both of his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline inquisitively. He gingerly plucked the bracelet from her hand, placing it inside the silver box and setting the thing aside. "Kyouya?"
Sayu stood up slowly, smoothing her robes.
They must've tarried for too long.
"It's not what you think, I assure you."
"In that case," Kuja stood as well.
One last time, his hand reached for hers and he bowed deeply over it. His forehead first touched her knuckles in a gesture of respect, before his lips softly followed in a gesture of admiration.
He straightened, and he clasped his hands behind him. He tilted his head, another small smile in place for her. "I'll be going, now."
Sayuri smiled. She suspected it had a tinge of sadness to it. "Goodbye, Kuja."
The rooms Sayuri Jie now used were in the King's private wing—they also opened on both sides, but that afternoon only the side facing the coast had been thrown open, and the low-hanging sun washed everything in a soft orange glow.
There was a platform in the room, which raised it a foot from the floor; from there another curtain hung, and the gossamer silk that hung a few inches short of the platform allowed him to first glimpse Sayuri's lilac and pink robes.
He stepped into the room, which was devoid of people save for one attendant. Sayuri's personal attendant, he remembered, the one who followed her most of everywhere. She sat at the base of the platform, to the side, but she bowed when he entered.
Kouen sat in the center of the room, and instantly his eyes caught the figure sitting behind the curtain, shadowed and whose true form was withheld from his sight, even in the warm orange light.
For the second time, Kouen sat back on his haunches, splayed his fingers in front of him, and lowered his head before the silhouette of his intended.
When he rose, he was unexpectedly stilled by the outline of Sayuri Jie—it was almost imposing, and having nothing else to do he read the contours of her head; it obviously bore the shapes of several hair ornaments, and he continued reading the soft slopes of her shoulders, the rise and fall of her billowing sleeves.
There was a voice that spoke to him: "Prince Kouen," she called. The voice was quiet, subdued, but he recognized the firmness in it, "I bid you a safe return to Rakushou."
"Thank you," he replied to the formality without pause. Outside and toward the inner corridor, where his attendant similarly stood, he gestured. The man came inside with his head bowed, wordlessly setting down a chest before Kouen and leaving.
Behind Kouen, another set of Kou attendants entered and left several chests.
"Princess," the Crown Prince of Kou bowed over his hands once again, in Jishouan custom. As he pressed his forehead on his fingers, he said, "Please accept these gifts, in celebration of our betrothal."
There was a short moment of silence, before Sayuri spoke again. "No, Fuu. Allow me."
There was the rustling of fabric, the sound of quiet feet padding to and fro before him. Not before long, her voice spoke again: "Please, raise your head, Prince Kouen."
And he did. Sayuri had pulled the curtain back, had tied each side to hooks in the walls.
The parted silk allowed him the first sight of the First Princess of Jishou he'd gotten since three nights ago, when they spoke alone on the beach.
Her long silver hair had been swept into a large topknot, with hair twisted into two buns on each side of her ears; what was even more surprising than her suddenly complex hairstyle were the glistening metal ornaments arranged on it. A dark silver comb sat in the middle of her topknot, emblazoned with birds and adorned with several flowers of bright blues, pinks and greens set on a sprawling silver branch; a delicate cloth peony topped this comb, covering most of the hair gathered there. By her hairline, two dark silver pins shaped like cranes sat near her temples, with tiny cloth cherry blossoms trailing the cranes across her scalp—on the buns behind her ears, another two cranes mid-flight were pinned in place, each sporting silver chains in their mouths whose jade ends dangled near her neck.
Sayuri's own face was unadorned save for the mild smile she pointed at him. Her slender neck gave way to two intricately sewn collars, which then gave way to her under robe and robe.
"I must thank Kou," She started, glancing at the small chest that lay before her, "for its kindness." She acknowledged her break in decorum by bowing deeply, not lowering her head to the floor but nonetheless bowing. "But you I also want to thank, by accepting your gifts personally, without the curtain."
Kouen watched her. He had to look up to her, because she sat on her platform; she held her chin high, but her eyes were looking down at her sleeves, almost as if they were hesitant to look at him.
Then her eyes swerved up without stopping, locking with his.
Her eyes almost matched the jade dangling by her neck, or the pale flowers on her comb, or the lilac of her robe, but at that instant to him they seemed like smooth and deep, hard stone; stone that was old and made of countless layers piled up against each other, impenetrable.
She blinked and the hardness was gone. Sayuri was gazing at something else now, the small box. He reached for it, opening it without preamble and standing.
There were several things that were a part of the traditional Kou groom's pre-wedding gifts to his bride, most of which were contained in the chests behind him; only the smallest, most valuable things were in the chest before him, and he took this in his hands before sitting on the platform with her.
They were eye to eye now. She tilted her head at him, a slight hitch in her breath and her eyebrow, as if questioning his motives.
He shot her words back at her, "I want to give this to you, personally."
The quick look she sent her single attendant betrayed her nervousness, as if she were checking to see if she'd been left alone with him.
Her lips pursed uncomfortably. Was she uneasy with how close he was?
"As you wish."
Kouen set down the ebony chest, reaching in for his gifts to her.
Her ears, neck and fingers were unadorned right then and it would soon change:
Without her fingertips brushing against his skin, she took from his palms the gold earrings with wide eyes; they'd been long and heavy in his hands, but she easily wore the jewelry without a single thought.
Next, she draped over her neck the collar of gold he presented her—but he stopped her when she reached for the ring.
"Let me," He said.
There was one ring only; one ring to be worn on the ring finger of her left hand, one ring to be joined with another ring when they would be married next spring.
It was a gold ring—and like the rest of the jewelry, it did not bear Kou's standard motifs; no, they bore his motifs. His ring bore a noble lion, with its gaping maw carrying a large, blood-red ruby.
Sayuri's pale green eyes looked at him once again, as if struck by it. She silently held out her left hand, its white knuckles barely visible from the lilac sleeve that swallowed her arm.
He took her hand in his. Her palm was delicate, but unexpectedly cool—without thinking, he'd felt through the ridges and lines of her fingers, unsurprised when he found no calluses or any other sort of blemish; Sayuri looked like she'd never held a bow in her life, much less a sword.
Kouen singled out her ring finger, sliding on his ring. It was a little big, but that was nothing that couldn't be fixed later; when she attempted to pull her hand back, he stopped her once again by holding onto her fingers.
"Lastly," He said, gazing into her eyes. He reached for the ebony chest again, bringing back gold twin bracelets. Slowly, deliberately—knowing he was doing something Koumei would've disapproved of—he lifted her sleeve, to expose her wrist.
Something else already resided there. Another gold bracelet; thicker than his, obviously more valuable, with the way it glittered with uncut diamonds.
Looking at the bracelet for a moment, he realized he recognized it. The coiling snakes were hard to miss.
Sayuri was quick to draw her hand back in this instant; she averted her eyes. "It's a wedding present," she said, as if it explained anything, "from Ariavat."
The magister, he was reminded. All those rings he wore. "It makes no difference."
She bit her lip at that, seemingly unsure of what to make of his statement. She looked down, before baring both her wrists to him; quietly, she muttered: "There's two. Take them off, if you want."
He heard her nearly breathless amendment of it makes no difference either.
Kouen examined her. She looked resigned, her eyes half-lidded and gazing at nothing in particular.
His memory brought up another vision of her: her in her midnight blue robes, both of them alone on the beach, her cup of wine and her green eyes shimmering in the moonlight, her lips pulled in a smirk as she said, I was supposed to meet him, not you, sorry.
It seemed like two different people. He said nothing else as he removed her bracelets for her, before replacing them with his own.
When his thumb brushed over her knuckles half-accidentally, she started and looked at him with surprise.
Kouen stood from the platform. He made his way for the doors. "I will be leaving now,"
"I…" The princess trailed from inside the room. "…I wish you well on your endeavors, Prince Kouen."
When he looked back, she was standing in the middle of the room, her hands hidden in her sleeves. Behind her the afternoon sun burned, and it almost looked to him as if she was silhouetted again by a silk curtain.
Yet even in the shadow of the sun he could see the tall cranes wading in the blue stream along the hem of her robe, could see the crests of her royal family on her coat's lapels, could see the glimmer of light glancing off the silver cranes at her temples.
Amongst the imagery he absently wondered if she truly did wish him well on his endeavors. With his actions yesterday they would both be embarking on a new endeavor.
Cranes, he remembered, symbolize longevity.
"And you as well, Princess," He replied without thought. "Expect a second present, for our wedding."
She was on a ship to Ariavat the next day. Shiro had left soon after the Kou delegation did; the rest of her family would stay in Tohouku for a little while longer. Yuki was not expected in the Magisterium yet, so he stayed with their parents.
The delay in her journey was caused by her unexpected betrothal; several palanquins and other veiled devices were needed for the journey, since she needed to obscure herself from all men aside from family and—as the day before played out—Kuja and Kouen.
She'd had to send a missive to Koumei as well; she'd forgotten to send him a list of suitable officials for their trade ambassador post, though she did include in the missive the fact that she'd discussed a similar list with Korechika already. Sayu was supposed to discuss the matter with Kouen, that meeting before he left; she'd gotten sidetracked by the gifts he presented her, however.
That afternoon, she remembered, she'd expected dragons—as Kou's motifs went, but Kouen had given her lions; so many lions, hanging on her ears, lounging on her collar bones, devouring a ruby on her finger, stretching on her wrists.
Shiro had twisted his lips in disdain when he saw her, as he was packing for his journey. "Dear me," He said. "Where are the bracelets Kuja gave you? Wear those, wear his stuff. Get rid of the Kou jewelry."
She'd corrected him, saying the gift was from Kuja's sister; he shrugged. "He practically picked them out. But you really need to see those earrings of yours, sister."
That night she'd looked in the mirror, startled by the reflection of Kouen's gold lions and their pointed teeth all but glaring at the silver of her own cranes.
"My fool brother," The Queen of Ariavat took Sayu's face in her palms and crooned, "my fool brother, always at the Ethersand, leaving you to those strange Kou men, now look at what they've done to you."
"Your Majesty," Sayu laughed. "Please. They're just my betrothal gifts."
The truth was she felt uneasy in them, forever hyperaware of the fact that these were Kouen's possessions, and she was wearing them. She'd compromised with propriety, while abroad; she needed to see many people, many of them men, and a curtain of state was not always available—so she would always wear Kouen's jewels and her hair in some semi-elaborate style, if only to signify the fact that she was intended for someone else already.
"They're not! They're not just betrothal gifts, Sayuri," She said, shaking her head. She twisted away from Sayu, beckoning her to follow. With every step the Queen took, her braid swung, her hips swayed, her foot glided off the tiled floor of the Ariavatan capital palace with a light chime. All over she bore gold jewelry, from anklets to belts to braid-covers, all made at her command, all made for her use only. "They're a symbol of that Ren Kouen's ownership of you!"
The older woman led her to the very top of the palace, where a hollowed out dome made of ivory-white bricks hung above them; she could see the city, and farther from that, the jungle, from archways more than a hundred feet above the ground. The Queen was lazing on the carpet behind her, sticking in her mouth some Jishouan treat Sayu had brought her.
"Oh, relax, Sayuri," Yerim Shajar Salman popped another rice cake into her mouth. "Ariavat is already well aware of the Magisterium and Kou's agreement. Didn't you say there were no changes to the terms? We all know you're only here to see me. Did you like my gift? I see you're wearing it with those lions on your wrists, they must be rather heavy."
"Now tell me," She sat crossed legged, twisting and piling one foot after another, and Sayuri struggled to follow the action. "What's this new husband-to-be of yours like? Is my fool brother any more handsome? Tell me Kuja's more handsome; that would restore my faith in him a little bit."
Sayuri twisted her sleeve, trying to avoid all thoughts of Kouen. She was unofficially on vacation; she would rather not think of him. "Ah…let me see. Kuja—" Her forehead wrinkled, furrowing her brows, "—he's more chivalrous."
"What dears these Kou men are," The Queen mocked, "you don't even have anything to say about them. I suppose I should thank you for the compliment to my foolishly foolish brother, albeit."
"You're welcome. And it's for the better that I don't say anything, believe me," Sayu sighed, giving up on sitting cross-legged like the queen and instead choosing to lie back. She carefully positioned her hair and jewelry as she lay down. "Perhaps you'll get to meet them one day. You'll see how slippery they are."
"Slippery as eels, I see. Not that I expected anything less of a scheming empire's princes. Your brothers, however," Yerim continued, "how are they? The little runt still trying to catch up to Kujahabar? Fool's errand, that one, everyone knows my brother's one in a million, if not a fool. Nobuyuki's handsome though. Fun to tease, too."
Sayu joked, "You ought to marry him."
The Queen's answer was nonchalant. "Maybe I will. He's got prized blood; I'll have to catch him before he decides to be a magister, unlike my foolish brother. It's plenty of time."
"Shiro's doing well, he's handling the military for now," Sayuri added. "Father's proud."
"Uncle Mameyoshi's proud of anyone who does their best, he's soft like that," Yerim commented absently.
Not truly, Sayu winced but said nothing. She gazed up at the brick dome, which had been painted with sprawling vines and leaves that twisted into the dome's archways. Jet black swallows were painted all throughout, accompanied by swarms of tiny gold birds she knew to be the rukh.
It reminded her of Kuja's favorite camel-colored jacket.
The princess closed her eyes, deciding to nod off.
The next leg of her journey was tenser at first, but eventually it relented and gave into 'relaxation' as well, just like she'd done in Ariavat; Caera was welcoming, as it always had been, and the officials and tradesmen she met were all surprised when they found out she was engaged again.
Perhaps this was the only sign she needed to see that her old life had ended already: though sad and a bit regretful, everyone she met only wished her good passage into the next stage of her life. The senators all unexpectedly threw parties for her every week, as if they were their way of expressing their fond farewells, knowing that she would not be returning to Caera in a long while, possibly forever.
Whenever she returned to the villa the Jishouan diplomatic commission owned, gifts would be waiting for her at the entryway; a lot of them were frugal, practical gifts that she could use, while staying in Caera—wheat, olive oil, wine. The sight of the gifts alternately stressed and saddened her, because they were only tangible reminders of what was awaiting her next spring, and these gifts were her sending off.
Some of the gifts, most of which were from her old friends, back when she was still Caera's Crown Princess, were lavish things that were expected to last forever; a beautiful set of ceramic vases, hand-painted with scenes from her reign as Crown Princess, a pair of earrings studded with precious gems, a beechnut pendant, an armband with delicately chased leaves and berries, all of this as if to say, you may not be with us, but we will always be with you.
It had eventually gotten to be too much. One day she sat outside the villa, admiring the view from the terraced gardens, gazing distantly into the Caeran capital a few miles away. She'd unwittingly gotten drop-dead drunk from the stress the night before, and was nursing herself with the local remedy for a hangover.
If only Kuja was here, she silently complained. He always helps with the hangovers.
She glanced down at the bottom floor of the villa, below the garden, where the entrance was. It was partially open to her view because the entryway was open-air, its roof held up by columns.
A head popped out from one behind the columns. Sayu waved at the familiar intruder.
She didn't look up as he arrived on the terrace. "Good morning," she muttered into her goblet. "Fancy seeing you here, I thought the desert had swallowed you up."
The man smiled, fixing his tunic. He was one of the Caeran magisters, and a relatively new one at that; he'd only earned his title a month or two ago.
They were friends of course, otherwise she'd have thrown him out already. Kuja had referred him to her when he returned from the Magisterium to Caera, ready to fulfill his magisterial duties.
Today was also the first sight she'd seen of him since her arrival in Caera, but her head was throbbing too much to be paying a lot of attention to pleasantries.
"Good morning, Princess," He said smilingly.
Sayu cringed.
"I have something for you."
She looked up at that. He held two bundles in his hands, both of which were wrapped in many layers of cloth. She thanked him quietly, before taking the articles into her own hands.
"I was of the impression Magister Salman was going with you, when you returned here."
"Magister Salman has pressing business with top-tier," Sayu said distractedly, examining the bundles. One was a long bundle, the other was small and flat—the second one she already knew to be a book, without a second examination.
She had the slightest feeling she already knew what the longer bundle was, underneath all the cloth, but couldn't for the life of her understand why she would be receiving such a thing.
She started loosening the string that held the cloth together on the longer bundle. "He couldn't spare the time. Didn't he tell you?"
"He told me to ask you," he shrugged, "and he told me to bring this to you. It's from Jishou, milady."
Was it some prank Shiro was playing on her? Sayu sat back for a moment, cradling her forehead with a perplexed expression. Her headache had seemingly taken a break from tormenting her, instead letting this riddle occupy her.
She laid the long bundle on her lap, setting down the book-bundle and unwrapping the first layer of cloth from the long one. It was a light linen, Caeran. Probably her friend's, so she handed it to him when she stripped it from the bundle.
The next layer was another light layer of airy cotton; when she lifted it to her nose, a note tumbled out; she took the note in one hand, holding the cloth in the other.
She recognized the smell. It smelled like dust and incense, like Kuja. She read the note, which was written in her friend's long and rolling print:
Shiro sent it to me, it was faster that way.
It's lovely. I hope you'll use them.
Both of them.
Until next spring,
K
Sayu put the note down, tucking the cloth in her girdle. She unwrapped the last, thickest cloth layer, the one whose origins she only knew by the gold lions and dragons embroidered into the maroon brocade silk.
Already she had a bad feeling as she lifted the last piece of cloth to reveal a long box of lacquered burgundy wood, edged in silver. She lifted the lid, pulling apart the rice paper inside to reveal a magnificent straight sword in its scabbard.
Expect a second present, for our wedding, Kouen had said to her.
Shocked beyond words, her eyes spotted another note, this time sealed with wax to signify it hadn't been opened, tucked into the side of the box. Even more of a surprise, it was Koumei's writing—not Kouen's, as she'd truly expected—that greeted her when she pulled the note apart:
Sayuri,
She bit her lip at his choice of opening, wanting to smile but ultimately deciding not to.
It is our deepest wish that you might accept this present from us. Perhaps it will not arrive in a timely fashion, but I can only hope it will. Nobushiro ensures me that he will do all he can to make sure it will.
I have thought long and hard on my gift to you. There is a scroll treasured by many of my family in Kou; I had it copied and bound into a book for your reading. You once told me how fond you were of history, it is my desire that you might find this a scintillating read.
Sayuri grinned then glanced at the book-bundle by her sandaled feet. She decided she would send a missive of thanks to Koumei later—once she figured it out with the senators how to send a missive directly to Kou, or discounting that, how to send a missive to Kou through the neighboring countries in the Triangle.
She suspected she would only end up relying on Shiro again, however. Or her father. They both would know the right people.
My brother sends his deepest regards, knowing you will be busy in Caera. It is currently unsafe for him to communicate from the frontlines of the Western Army, but please trust me when I say I know how En thinks.
He had it commissioned the moment we returned from Jishou, before he set out for the next war campaign. He would want you to have it for this occasion.
Happy birthday, Sayu.
Your friend,
Ren Koumei
Second Imperial Prince of Kou
P.S:
In Kou, the pine, the bamboo and the plum blossom are 'the three friends.' They flourish even under the harshest of conditions, and are symbols of longevity and perseverance.
She looked at the sword in her lap again. Not the second wedding gift she'd been expecting, then.
She wordlessly handed the note to her friend, standing up and grabbing the sword and scabbard from its place in the box.
Just the scabbard was beautiful by itself; it was made from polished and lacquered dark wood, with four decorative silver mounts—haltingly, she unsheathed the sword and held it up in the light.
Even her friend let out a breath of awe.
The hilt was wrought in exquisite silver, in the shape of the top half of a lion's maw—where the lower jaw should've been, the blade was in place; it was made of light-colored steel, and when she shifted her grip, her eyes caught the light glinting off the blade differently, and she realized it was a pale grayish-green.
Like my eyes? She wondered silently.
There were more lions running along the base of the blade, near the hilt, where they stood in two columns of four on both faces; the lions were greener in color, almost jade-like.
"A sword and a book, for a birthday present," Her friend remarked, whistling.
Sayuri was still in shock. What did Kouen mean by sending her a sword for her twenty-fourth birthday? What was he expecting?
She glanced below the hilt and the comfortable leather grip, where the pommel was. It was another growling lion's head, but a metal ornament hung from its open mouth, strung to the inside.
Upon closer observation, it was a flat, lightweight silver ornament—engraved on both sides were identical renderings of a sprig of pine, plum blossoms, and bamboo, intertwined.
She silently sheathed her new sword, placing it back in the box, covering it with rice paper, replacing its lid. Was it an oblique reference to their imminent marriage?
He was certainly looking at me that day if it is, Sayu thought. That day she'd said goodbye to him, she'd worn her cranes—for longevity, in Jishouan culture, and because it was one of the more auspicious images to be wearing during the betrothal period.
The decision to wear cranes that day had been simple; she'd recognized early on that despite her overall reluctance in wedding him, she had no desire for it to be…as short as her first one.
She would never.
Perhaps he understood what it meant.
But she truly hadn't expected him to care about or remember what she'd worn.
Or perhaps he simply hadn't understood, and this was all coincidence, a part of some twisted Kou ritual.
…It wasn't even her birthday yet. It would still be in two weeks; at least Koumei got his wish that the gift arrived on time.
Still—"A sword," Sayu muttered. She gathered her gifts, notes, and goblet in her arms. She nodded at her friend, wordlessly bidding him to come inside with her.
She uneasily set down the box carrying her sword on an end table.
He will not make a war princess out of me, long as our marriage may be.
The princess felt her headache return in full force, and she regretfully set down the book-bundle she'd been planning to unwrap and peruse through. Her jewelry and hairstyle felt heavier than ever, and she supposed it was the perfect time to have a cup of tea with her friend.
Notes:
Surprise! It's me again. I posted early, since this is the last chapter before we go into Kou and meet more canon characters.
(1) Cranes symbolize longevity in both Japanese and Chinese culture; longevity, imo, is a good thing to wish for in a marriage usually. What Kouen means by perseverance and the sword of all things, I would gladly like to hear from you guys. Even Sayu is only guessing, lol.
(2) If today's visuals for the hairstyling and jewelry are confusing, fear not! I've written a blog post with pictures on it on the livejournal, they're design notes + a slight discussion of today's chapter so if you want, there's a link in my profile.
(3) Last chapter's remarks were super fun to read; I'll be responding to your reviews, not sure when since I'm on a really tight schedule, but I will! It's very nice to know people enjoyed the Mameha POV I unveiled, and people enjoy Kuja. I adore anyone that enjoys him ahaha.
Anyway; thanks to everyone that's read thus far! Check out Appetence in the archive on my recommendation if you'd like, as always I am ever grateful for any comments you'd leave me.