The Riddle

A Fairy Tale by the Brothers Grimm

Retold By

Nana

(A Sango x Miroku fairy tale)

Chapter 7

You Shall Be Mine

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Author's Notes: Yes! As you can see, this fic ain't dead yet! Gomen, school has been most pressing, but this fic is going to be concluded really soon! Just one more chapter to go! Thanks, minna-san, for inquiring after it. Please do read on and review!

Hentai Neko: Chapter 6 only contains scenes from the first two nights. The announcement of the riddle, the ball and Miroku visiting Sango in the library right down to Miroku going to his rooms are all separated by mere hours during the first night. The third and last night will be tackled here. I hope this clarifies things a bit. ^_________^

Miroku's statement, "You shall be mine…" in this fic (highlighted by asterisk) is a quote from Marie Antoinette to her first-born child. The quote is taken from Antonia Fraser's biography of the French Queen--no copyright infringement intended. I thought it was touching and most appropriate for a MiroSan moment as well.^^

Disclaimer: We all know who owns MiroSan!

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            Although sleep eluded Sango the entire night, she wasn't sure she wanted to see another daybreak for as long as she lived. As the first rays of dawn gradually appeared to spread its thin fingers across the floor of her bedroom, all her anxiety and foreboding came pouring back with a rush.

No use staying in bed…she thought, fighting down the urge to cry at the thought that perhaps tonight might be her last in this bedroom. Throwing aside the blankets, she got up and quickly changed into her riding habit.

            A good, early ride would help calm her. It had never failed her so far, and right now, she was going to need all the help and support she could get.

            When she got down, she quickly realized that she wasn't going to get any support from her father.

            Already, the entire palace staff was awake and quite busy setting up the ballroom for another night of festivities. When she saw that the prime minister was personally seeing to the physical arrangements, she erupted.

            "The three-day period of deliberation is not over yet!" she shouted and gave him her back before the good man could start stuttering his excuses. She knew that it was no good venting her anger on her father's servant, that he was merely following orders. Still, it hurt to see that the people who had seen her grow up were only too happy to give her away.

            Worst of all, they didn't seem to mind who they were giving her away to. Perhaps that was the most hurtful thing of all. It seemed as though they were quite willing to overlook the fact that Prince Miroku was the subject of one too many rumors that could easily tear a man's reputation to shreds.

            Sango had not forgotten these rumors. They were her favorite stories, made all the more irresistible because they involved a real person and not a paper hero. For quite some time, this flesh-and-blood Prince had reserved for himself a special place in Sango's imagination. From the way the cad acted in her friends' stories, surely he would be full of deceit. But he would also be handsome and charming, for why would her friends fall for him? He would be full of attention and promises, and he was going to be so interesting.

            But all that was before the actual Prince came along. Now, the only thing she could do was mourn for the days when she could safely examine and turn the notion of this marvelous monster around and around in her head, when she could banish him to oblivion with a single note of dismissal in her mind.

            The man was here now, and there was nothing she could do that would make him go away. He had backed her up in a predicament of her own devising. Tomorrow afternoon was all that stood between her freedom and a possibly horrid future with a man she hardly knew. A man she did not care to know. Right?

            As Sango waited for her horse to be saddled, she seriously contemplated about running away. But where could she possibly go? Perhaps she could escape and seek temporary asylum in one of her friends' domains?

Although the idea was tempting, she knew from the moment the thought sprang into mind that she couldn't do it. It was part of the rules, first enacted to ensure no suitor (or Princess, for that matter) would chicken out during the last minute and run away from the agreement. For the man, it would mean a speedy execution. For her, breaking a rule within the Riddle's agreement would only hasten the fate worse than death.

            Besides, it was never like her to flee from her problems. More importantly, she was bent on not giving the Prince any satisfaction in knowing that he had pinned her to a corner.

            But what if I can't solve his riddle? Thought Sango dolefully. What then?

            As she paused before that dilemma, a new thought--unbidden and treacherous--stole into her brain: Is it really that big a deal if you can't?

            Sango gasped at the turn her wayward mind had taken.

            By all that was decent, surely she could think of a thousand reasons why that thought was wrong, but it pressed on.

            Aren't you tired of fighting everyone and everything, Sango?

            She shook her head at that thought, finding that she didn't know what to say to herself. Yes, she was tired of seeing people die on her account, but she was also tired of being subjected to the appraising gaze of greedy men. The thought that these ruthless, vile creatures might actually succeed in staking their claim not just on her inheritance--but on her very person--was enough to make her instantly sick. The Riddle had helped to keep these men at bay.

            And what about the Prince? Would he go the way the others had gone, or would he strike off on his own path? While she knew she could never trust him, how could anyone make her shiver with an emotion that was not entirely disgust?

            There was plenty of trickery about him, but there were also details about the man that did not quite match the charming, deceitful monster that she had made of him in her mind.

            And face it, Sango…a voice sighed in her head. You find him fascinating.

            Was that it, then? Was that what had prompted her to be so irrationally hostile to him? Unfortunately for her the lech had thought she was leading him on. Trust him to take things that way.

            But was he being serious at all? Was it possible for him to be serious about such things? Sango could not believe that he was risking his neck with this ridiculous endeavor. And all for what? If he did succeed, he was going to get saddled with a handful as a wife. If he lost the Riddle…

            With great effort, Sango forced herself not to think about it. She could not afford to be derailed from the task she had assigned to herself for this coming night. She had to do it.

            The wind still held a trace of chill from last night. She could feel it as it rushed against her cheeks. Day was just breaking as she rode off to the countryside. At the sight of the early morning sun, she felt some of the weight lift off her chest.

            Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad…the same sun should also rise on the north shores, shouldn't it?

            But what am I talking about? She groaned. That isn't the issue at all, is it?

            What was the issue then? Well, it was quite obvious, wasn't it?

            It was pretty obvious just what kind of a guy this person was. It had been made clear to her that first night at the ball. Even now, she could not think of him dancing with all the court ladies without feeling more than a little bit of rancor deep inside.

            But then there was also that library scene a few hours later; there had been something in his eyes (so close to hers) when he had produced that apple.

That was the problem. Every time she came close to making a conclusion about him, he would do something to turn her opinion of him upside down. Sango just couldn't seem to be able to place the occasional bouts of kindness that she had seen in him anywhere in her formed equation of him.

How the hell did she ever get into this mess?

And how the hell was he able to get out of the castle earlier than she did?

Sango felt some of the old irritation creeping back when she slowed her horse down to a canter and found that, once again, the now-familiar figure in black had gone to intercept her at the road's fork. It was now quite clear that he was making it his habit to wait on her.

"Imagine seeing you here," she said, unable to keep the arch from her voice. "Shouldn't you be staying in the castle? They're preparing for a premature celebration, you know."

Miroku merely smiled. "And good morning to you too," he said easily. "Nice view you have here."

Sango followed the direction of his gaze and repressed a sigh. "It is, isn't it?" she asked.

"Kind of reminds me of the sunrises we have back home," said Miroku, his gaze still on the golden crescent peaking from the far horizon of mountains. "It's nice to know our Kingdoms have quite a lot in common."

Sango said nothing, but her look gave her thoughts away.

"What?" he asked laughingly. "You don't believe me?"

Sango could not stop herself then. "Why are you doing this?" She asked at last.

He turned to her, surprised. "What?" he asked.

"This--! This whole thing!" She exclaimed, gesturing. "You sound like you're serious about the whole thing! Do you need a wife this badly? Would just anyone do?"

Okay. So that wasn't the most subtle way to begin a conversation, but Miroku seemed ready to enter it.

He gave her an oblique look. "Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that you regard yourself as just 'anyone'?"

It took her a while to respond. "Am I not to you?" she finally said. "I mean I hardly even know you!"

"Admittedly the Riddle is not giving us much, but there would be time enough for that after tomorrow," he said. "Having one's head on the line is no game. You should know that by now."

"Choosing a bride is no game either!" retorted Sango.

"I know that," he said quietly. He looked away. "I should be the one to be fully aware of that, don't you think?"

"You sure don't act like it," she said.

Much to her dismay, he turned back to her with a smile. "Don't I?" he said. "How should I disprove your claim then?"

Sango stared at him in alarm as he edged his horse closer to hers--so close that his booted leg was brushing hers.

"Would you like me to persuade you with promises and sweet words?" he asked, his voice warm and soft. "Or would you simply prefer a gesture?"

As he tried to lean closer, Sango pulled away and tried not to give into a frightened impulse to flee. It would be totally undignified, and she would be playing right into his hand.

"You know you cannot expect me to fall for those kinds of tricks," she spat.

Miroku nodded approvingly. "I thought so," he said. "Still, sparring with you is quite…fun."

"Oh. So this is what it's all about, is it?" she asked loftily.

"No," he said. "It's not everything, but it has to be there for things to work out, don't you agree?"

"What makes you think everything's working out?"

"It really depends on you, you know," said Miroku suggestively.

Sango shook her head as she struggled to keep a mass of confusing emotions in order. "Stop playing with me," she said shortly.

Miroku shrugged. "It seems that you've not been listening," he said, his voice carrying a trace of heaviness.

"I cannot trust you," she said stubbornly.

There, she thought. I've said it. Now, you will have no choice but to hate me.

"That is quite evident," he said, sighing. "But you must, if you are intent on uncovering the reason why I am pursuing this. The reason is not as far-fetched as you think, Sango."

They were silent for a moment before he said, "It seems the King is preparing for another night of festivities. Will you be there?"

"Does it matter?"

He regarded her, his face quite serious. "It's not for me," he said. "Don't judge your father too harshly. It may not exactly be right, but…he's doing this because he's concerned for you."

"He need not be," she said. "He taught me to be my own person. What he is seeing in me is merely the fruit of his labors."

"I have no doubt about that, and I know that your sound judgement will enable you to make the right choices in this situation. Only, promise me one thing…"

"What is it?"

"Promise me a chance. Let me have the first dance this evening," he said.

Before she could reply, he had turned his horse and was riding back to the castle.

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            Perhaps it was in deference to his daughter or perhaps it had something to do with Sango exploding at the Prime Minister that morning--she wasn't really sure--but contrary to expectations, the evening's party had been subdued and intimate. The King had only invited a few close friends and associates over, all known to Sango since the age of ten.

            There were only a handful of young people, and so of course the Prince got to dance almost all the waltzes with her. As always, he was dressed impeccably in black, with royal purple providing contrast from within the inner lining of his cape. All in all he was a distracting sight, and he chose to be on his best behavior for tonight.. It was difficult to avoid him now that she had his full attention, and the slow, soft music was not helping any.

            "Beautiful," was the only thing he said as greeting before he whisked her off for the first dance, before she had time to object. Since then, she had to endure his openly admiring gaze. He did not bother to talk much this evening, and after the fifth dance, Sango simply couldn't stand it anymore.

            "I need some air," she said as she abruptly disengaged herself from his arms, and he followed her out to the moonlit balcony. All the while, Sango could not bring herself to look at him. After a short, troubled silence, she said, "I have been thinking about what you said earlier--about a possible reason of yours for pursuing this."

"Really?" Miroku asked, lifting an arched brow. "Have you thought of one?"

"Unfortunately, no," she said as she shook her head distinctly. "And so I must ask you plainly, sir. What do you want?"

He sounded disappointed, but he managed to throw back the question by asking, "What do you think?"

Sango glanced at him and looked away, biting off a frustrated retort. After discarding all other theories, there was only one remaining. It was so improbable, though, and so disturbing, that she refused to even dwell on it.

And so she said, "Come on. What do you really want? You're too rich on your own to possibly want my inheritance. What then? My total and unconditional humiliation? Or do you just happen to find your thrills in this kind of aberrant risk-taking behavior?"

            Miroku let out a small sigh of exasperation. "What is there in our situation that that is so difficult to believe?" he asked softly.

            "Are you trying to tell me," asked Sango incredulously, "that you're willing to gamble your life over a girl whom you've only known for roughly three days?"

            "It's a gamble worth taking," he said simply and waited for Sango to recover.

"You're so…so arrogant, aren't you?" Sango finally managed through gritted teeth. "Say you succeed. Say you win the Riddle and got what you 'wanted', then what?"

            "Then…you shall be mine," he said, his voice husky and low. "You shall have my undivided care; you will share all my happinesses and you will alleviate all my sufferings*…"

            Sango was speechless for a full minute, aware of a strange, hot flush suffusing her entire body. For this last evening, she had hoped that her words would somehow get through to him in time, stun him into some form of realization of the foolishness of his actions. Instead…

Instead, he continued to stare down at her, his violet gaze unexpectedly warm and tender. All of a sudden, the music and background din of merriment seemed very far away.

            She stood there, her arguments slowly fading away without her even realizing it. She was aware only of the moonlight, the faint, sweet smell of magnolias that mingled with the cool night breeze, and of his presence.

            "Is it so hard to believe, Sango?"

            When she did not answer, he continued, " You're very tired, aren't you? Tired of being afraid…"

            She looked at him with wide eyes. "Why should I be?" she snapped.

            "Because after exhausting all efforts to arrive at a logical conclusion, you have reached a point where you're starting to realize that there might be something, after all, to what I have been saying."

            Sango looked away. "I'm not afraid," she muttered.

 "And there's no need to be, you know. Stop running away…stop fighting me," he breathed.

            He was close. So very close that she could only see the violet depths of his eyes. As if in slow motion, she saw him lower his head until his lips were mere centimeters away from hers.

            Was this the moment that countless romantic novels had alluded to--the hero coming in to the rescue of a poor, hapless princess, if only to rescue her from loneliness? Even if she wouldn't admit it out loud, hadn't there been instances when she had dreamed of a moment such as this, when she would finally be able to meet someone who could allow her to bring her guard down--someone whom she would allow to sweep her off her feet?

            There had been moments when she wished there would be someone who could make her give up all rational thought in the pursuit of happiness.  Of course, that didn't happen in real life. It was all storybook fodder, and so of course the hero she had gradually shaped in her mind was fashioned from the pages of a book. Now, her storybook hero was crumpling like the paper that he was in front of this flesh-and-blood Prince.

Nothing could prepare her for the real thing. He was real and possessed all the frailty that nature had given mankind. Disturbing, dangerous and so real, so alluring.

But whatever her weakness, Sango could not allow the blurred distinction of what was real and what was not to cloud her faculties. There were only two options to choose from, and she chose fast.

            It took a few seconds for him to register the stinging pain as it blossomed on his left cheek, and all that time, Miroku stood there with an incredulous look on his face.

            The hand she had used to slap with him with was still there, poised on her side. In the sudden silence, he could hear her shallow gasps for air, full of outrage.

            "Enough of this pretense! You act as though know me that well," she hissed, "when in fact you don't know me at all!"

            She stopped before her voice could break and, turning around, ran to the direction of her rooms.

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            It was all over then.

            As Miroku lay on the large, empty bed, feeling that sleep was a long time in coming, he could not help but think that his past was fast catching up with him at last. He had not exactly rejected all the other girls this way, but was this how it felt to be on the receiving end?

            This was it. The conclusion of a love affair that had all the appropriate touches of doom. It didn't have to end this way, and yet Sango had decided it should be so. There was nothing else to be done.

            How could she even doubt him to the very end? Miroku could not understand it at first. It had never occurred to him that Sango would actually be afraid of him, but it became evident when she slapped him.

            In the few seconds that followed, it suddenly dawned on him why she was fighting so hard. It had been heartbreaking.

He had remained on the balcony for quite a while, until the Princess' disappearance had become too obvious to conceal. Needless to say, the party fizzled out soon after.

So here he was, in his rightful bed, with nothing to do for a few hours except to stare at the square of moonlit floor on his side. He had waved Hachi off when his servant had asked whether they were going to switch beds again for the night. He doubted very much if he was going to be disturbed tonight.

And what was to come tomorrow? What was Sango up to? What was she going to tell the court? It didn't matter now, did it? Even if he did win, he would know that it would mean absolutely nothing. He would never be able to win her--

Miroku suddenly frowned.

What the..!

Was it just his imagination, or did something just move from the shadows near the door? He did not hear it open though…

He waited, every muscle tense. After a while, just when he was beginning to doubt whether he had seen anything at all, a slim figure detached itself from the inky pools of darkness from a corner of the room and came over smoothly on silent feet, crossing the square of moonlight before pausing a foot away from the bed.

It didn't take Miroku a second to realize who his nocturnal visitor was. She was shrouded in a misty gray cloak.

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            Sango stood in the shadows near the door for a long time, watching the figure on the bed.

One move. One move from him was all she needed to call off this endeavor. She would be through that door as quickly and silently as she had come in.

But he did not stir. Taking this as a sign to continue, she proceeded to the side of the bed quietly.

He was lying on his side, facing her. From the regular rise and fall of his chest, she could see that he was sound asleep. She stood there awkwardly, aware that what she was doing was totally illicit. It was quite exciting.

She paused long enough to consider his features. It was a novelty, catching him in an unguarded moment. In repose, he looked so different. The arched brows were relaxed, making him look more innocent, more boyish.

She panicked as she tried to wrench herself out of the stupor that was threatening to claim her. What was she doing? From the look of things, she could be content passing away the entire night just looking at him. She didn't know if she was going to get anything useful tonight. She wasn't even sure if she was going to get anything from asking him questions in his sleep--

Get on with it, Sango…there's only one way for you to find out if it works. Do it before you lose your nerve completely…

            She sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his face as she began her interview.

            "Miroku…"

            He did not stir. Sango licked her suddenly dry lips as she continued, "tell me about the Riddle. 'One who slew nobody'--what does that mean?"

            She heard him sigh in his sleep. "The raven, the one that ate of Hachi's dead and poisoned horse. Hachi killed it…." His voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible.

            It was working. She couldn't believe it, but it was working. For a moment, the elation that soared through her was so intense that she couldn't breathe. "And yet slew twelve, what is that?" She asked further.

            "The twelve thieves…the ones who were planning to kill us. They ate the poisoned raven and died of it."

            So that was it…she couldn't believe everything had turned out to be so easy. And now, the next logical thing was to quit his rooms before he had a chance to wake up.

            But Sango lingered. Impossibly enough, she lingered.

"There's one more thing…" she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

            Miroku's breathing was still even. "Those things you said to Sango," she said, her tone low and urgent. "Were they true?"

            "…Yes…but she wouldn't believe it…"

            "Do you think she should?"

            "It's the truth…I love her…I just don't know how I can make her believe me…"

            Sango drew back sharply, her heart pounding away in her chest. She had heard enough. Hearing any more would be her undoing.

But as she got up to go, something felt wrong. For a moment, Sango could not quite figure out what it was. Something was not yielding. It took a moment for her to realize that it was her cloak.

            To her consternation, she found that he had somehow gotten a fistful of her gray cloak in hand, and no matter how carefully she tried to tug it away from him, he was showing no signs of letting go. Briefly, she considered prying his fingers away, but even before she could bring herself to do it, he had suddenly turned on the bed, bringing the cloak and its owner sprawling onto his side.

            No no no…! She wailed inwardly as panic threatened to wash over her senses. This is it…! This is the part where he wakes up to find me in bed with him…I'll never be able to live this down..!

            Incredibly enough, he slept on. After a few, tense seconds, Sango was able to breathe normally again.

            Okay, slowly now…

Before she could inch away from him, an arm was flung over her waist and Sango found herself in Miroku's loose embrace. She could feel his warm breath on her nape, paralyzing her for a few minutes.

They remained that way for long minutes, long enough for Sango to make sure that his breathing had become regular again, long enough to make sure that she herself was going to be all right.

If the cloak had to be sacrificed, then so be it…

Quietly, she untied the knot that fastened the mantle onto her neck and slowly slipped out from the cloak as well as the close circle of his arm. For a moment, she sat on the floor, dazed. The hand that she brought to her face came away wet with the sweat from her forehead…and something else. It was only when she was able to get back to the sanctuary of her bedroom that she realized that her face was wet with tears.

It had been a mistake for her to go to his bedroom tonight. Even though she was indeed able to get the Riddle's answer from him, she was now in danger of not being able to use it against him on the morrow.

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Okay….I really don't understand why the format of this page is like this once it's posted at ff.net. I tried taking down the chap and re-posting it, but the title layout is choosing to stay lopsided, along with the inconsistent paragraph indentation. Please help, anyone! Thanks!