The Riddle
A Fairy Tale by the Brothers Grimm
Retold By
Nana
(A Sango x Miroku Fairy Tale)
Chapter 8
Evidence
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Author's Note: Here's the last chapter! For the ending, I have decided to deviate from the original tale in terms of how the final court session went. Somehow, I feel that it is totally OOC for Miroku to expose Sango in front of everybody, so this is how I choose to deliver the ending of this fractured fairy tale. I hope this deviation will fit just fine.^^ There are shades of anime episode 78 toward the middle part, and as for sap…yeah, plenty of that near the end. Gomen! I really tried to tone it down, honest!
Thanks very much for all your reviews! I've had great fun in writing this fic and hearing from you all! Please do read on and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: Yep. MiroSan still aren't mine…
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The final day dawned cloudy and cold. Incredibly enough, after the Princess had left him, Miroku had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Now he awoke with a splitting headache and a dull sense of impending disaster. Instantly, memories of the midnight tryst came flooding back to him.
What had possessed him to say anything at all to Sango last night (let alone the truth) was something he could not quite fathom. In the gray light of early morning, he seriously considered if he had gone overboard. True, he had pushed things too far by trying to kiss her in that moonlit balcony--it had been thoughtless and premature, and he had probably jeopardized his only chance in winning her over. But now he had endangered himself on her behalf…
You're out of your mind! What did you think she was going to do with your answer, anyway? A part of his mind snapped.
He wasn't very sure. Last night, he must have come apart more than he realized when it finally dawned on him why she was fighting so hard. She had been so desperate to escape him that it was unbearable to have her stay with him against her will a second longer. And so he had given Sango the ammunition needed to defeat him--Sango, who would want nothing more than to have him vanquished.
He was such a fool!
Well, I can always use this as evidence…he thought, staring down the length of the soft gray cloak that he still clutched in his hand. Even during the last minute, a vestige of self-preservation had kicked in. Could he really expose Sango this way, though? Would he really be able to humiliate her in front of her people?
Or would he spare her, even if it meant that she would get away with cheating? It was very hard to think that she would be the type to resort to dishonesty. Her proud mien did not--could not--seem to allow it to be possible in her person.
Sango had her faults, but dishonesty seemed a far cry from what she was capable of doing. It was all very strange.
To add to the confusion, what was she doing, asking him if he had meant what he said last night? What could it all mean? Could he dare hope for the impossible, or was he merely being foolish when he thought that perhaps he had been able to chip away at the frost that covered her heart, made her see that there was something more to him than her preconceived notion of his person?
There was one more thing. Last night, as he sprang the last of his traps and embraced her while feigning sleep, he could have sworn…he could have sworn that he had felt her yield for an instant before she quietly slipped away.
Or maybe this was merely a way for him to realize that he was going crazy at last.
There were more questions than answers, and Miroku winced at the weight of these speculations, feeling the dull throbbing in his head as it increased in tempo.
No use wondering what Sango is going to do or say today, he thought with a resigned sigh.
He flung aside the blankets, and waited as Hachi hurried over to help him with the morning toilette. Before they could get the tedious process underway though, the prime minister burst into their chamber without waiting for his knock to be answered.
"Your Highness!" cried the Prime Minister breathlessly. His face had taken on a sickly pale hue. Glancing at that shocked countenance, Miroku knew without a doubt what the man was going to say.
"The Princess," continued the Prime Minister, "she--she has ordered the court to reconvene. She says…she says she has the answer to your Riddle…"
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Within an hour the Princess' announcement was made, the Court was packed to the brim with spectators. The same gentlemen and ladies who had been in attendance the first day were in their appointed seats, and many more lined the circular perimeter of the large hall. Unlike before though, the festive air--one full of delicious speculation and keen interest--was gone. These spectators had come as though for a funeral.
It was all there in the solemn, steady gaze of the men and the sorrowful ones of the women. Their Princess was nothing but direct and orderly in her ways and intentions. She would not have called this session so early in the morning without a purpose. Clearly, she was going to win this one, just as she had all the previous sessions.
Grief was almost palpable in the air--and it did not matter whom it was for, be it for the ill-fated, handsome Prince, or the unfortunate Princess who, by shunning all who wooed her, seemed destined to condemn herself to a lifetime of loneliness.
The Prince had arrived after meeting the King one last time in the castle for a brief breakfast. It had been a silent affair, and neither man had felt like eating much.
The Princess had not been present. Word had it that she was already waiting in Court.
"Let her wait," commanded the King, his voice heavy. It was very clear that he had not taken his daughter's news well. "I will not let a guest of mine go hungry."
And so Miroku sat down to a simple table in deference to his host, and the King tried not to broach the topic of the Riddle until the very last minute, when he could bear it no longer.
"When I think about what could have happened--if only she could just…" he sighed, shaking his head.
The King trailed off just as Miroku said softly, "we shall see what she has to say."
"Do you…do you think she has solved it?" asked the King worriedly. "Do you think she has worked out your puzzle?"
Miroku shrugged. "I don't know, your Majesty. Your daughter…Princess Sango is full of surprises," he merely said.
And now, as he stood behind the great oak door once more, he could not help but wonder if he was doing the right thing.
You can still get out of this…a voice said reassuringly, reminding him of the folded cloak that he had Hachi bring. Use it…
It would all be over soon enough.
The sound of light footsteps a couple of feet away soon told him that he was no longer alone in the room. As he turned his head, he saw the Princess hesitate as she saw him by the door.
She was quick to look away when she saw him turn to her, but she was not quick enough to miss the look that he gave her. It made her stop and she looked back at him, startled.
She had half expected him to be confused, or at least clueless and with no recollection of what had happened last night. Instead, the look that he gave her was steady, serious and, although only the faintest touch of sadness could be seen within those violet depths, it was enough for her to realize something.
It was the sadness that gave everything away. Sango felt her eyes widen and found that she was unable to break away from his gaze.
Could it be…? Could it be that--
He knows…Sango thought, thoroughly disconcerted at the sudden realization.
It was unmistakable. He knew! He knew that she had been to see him last night! She couldn't understand how it was possible (well, yes, she should have suspected that the things that transpired during the night had been a little suspicious, especially that arm-flinging bit of his just as she was about to get away).
But if he knew everything, why did he tell me the Riddle's answer? Could it be that he's given me a wrong one? Could this be a trap?
Unfortunately, she knew that the answer was genuine. There was no doubt about that…so what kind of trick did he have up his sleeve so late into the game?
But as she looked into those eyes, she realized that there was no more trick involved. And this was no game. Hadn't he said so just yesterday? Why wouldn't she believe him?
"Sango." His voice made her jump. She saw his lips quirk into a small smile as he continued, "this is it then."
How could he possibly smile at a time like this? And how could she possibly respond to his words? What would she say?
They were already being called inside the courtroom. In the confusing tumult of emotions that she was suddenly feeling, Sango decided to pretend that she did not hear him. She proceeded to walk past him, her eyes averted.
Almost there…
She was almost past him…she was reaching for the door handle when she heard him say softly, "I hope that you will be happy."
It was but a breath of sound, but Sango stopped, aware of a strange, searing sensation cutting across her chest.
There it was--the reason why he had given her the answer. There was no more pretense, no more doubt. He had been trying to tell her so last night, and she had never stopped to consider that he might actually have been telling her the truth all along.
Wasn't it so that if one had exhausted all possible hypotheses to a problem, the last one remaining, no matter how improbable, must be the answer? It was unwise to ever think that he was capable of such sincere sentiments, but was it just possible that he cared for her a little?
She turned to him then, but whatever it was that she wanted to say died even before she could utter a single word. Just then, the door opened, and a page was announcing her into the court.
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As Sango took her stand in the silent courtroom, she reached a decision.
Do something…anything…
She had to think of a way out of this. And fast. She paid no attention to the drone of the judges as the court went into session. She paid no attention to the hushed faces all around, paid no attention to the sad, averted countenance of her father nor the rising nausea within her as she reached her momentous decision.
Right now…right now…she could only hold onto Miroku's gaze as he stood facing her on the other podium.
"Princess Sango, have you the answer to Prince Miroku's riddle?" asked one judge.
"Yes, I do," she said. She was surprised that her voice betrayed none of the tension she was feeling inside.
"What say you then?"
Sango paused nervously. "One who slew nobody," she began. "It--it's meant to be a fable, you see."
Silence from the crowd. She looked away from the thunderstruck expression on Miroku's face.
"Fable?" asked the judges blankly.
"Yes, it's erm…it's about this…this swan," said Sango as sudden inspiration struck her.
The judges seemed dubious, but their silence told her to proceed.
So there. The first step toward the inevitable had been taken. The deed done, Sango decided to embroider her story some more.
"There was this swan--a creature of such outstanding beauty, whose seeming perfection is the very source of all its misfortune. One cannot look upon it without desiring it for one's own. And so it was that twelve foolish princes had come to try to capture it for their own purposes…and in the ensuing pursuit of greed managed to kill each other off.
"One who slew nobody--for it is not the swan's intention to kill--and yet slew twelve…the princes cannot understand the swan, you see. One does not set sight upon such a creature and proclaim it as his own then and there."
Silence as Sango trailed off, wild roses blooming in her cheeks. "That's it," she said after a moment.
Oh, God…it was such a mess. It was true she couldn't lie to save her life--or anyone else's--but it was the best that she could do under the circumstances. She could only hope that Miroku would see through it…
It took the court a moment to respond. The judges turned to Miroku.
"And is the Princess' account correct?" they queried.
Miroku was having a hard time breathing. He could not tear his gaze away from Sango as he tried to work out what had just happened. She was making things up as she went along…but why??!
And in her place, Sango waited tensely as she chanted a prayer in her head, please…please, you big moron…please, please say you get it…
Apparently, he did not.
"I don't know how the Princess arrived at the tale," he began heavily, "but…she's absolutely correct."
The court drew a collective gasp of dismay at his words, the princess included.
"The Princess is the swan," Miroku said and proceeded to elaborate. "And although the number in her story may not accurately reflect--"
"What are you talking about?!" snapped Sango as soon as she recovered from the shock of hearing his acquiescence of her wild tale.
Miroku turned to her, his wide eyes uncomprehending. "It's true isn't it?" he said, his voice carrying a thin thread of warning that she not blow apart the conspiracy that they were now spinning together. "You are the swan."
"Yes--and no! Your riddle is not about some stupid swan!" cried Sango. "What are you trying to do?!"
Jeez! Even now…even now! He could still be stupid enough to think only of her in a situation that was endangering his life!
It was most disarming.
Miroku was shaking his head at her in warning. "You cannot possibly know what you're saying, Princess Sango--" he began.
"Oh yes, I do!" she said. "I'm trying to save you, dammit!"
She turned to the judges. "The Prince's riddle is about one of his encounters in the forest. One who slew nobody--it was a raven that partook of his servant's poisoned horse and died of it. It slew twelve when it found itself in a soup that twelve thieves took in. The twelve died as a result of ingesting the poison from the raven. It's as simple as that."
The judges turned from the Prince to the Princess and back as the courtroom exploded in a fury of whispers.
"Is this true?" they asked Miroku incredulously, but he was already past the point of speech. One look at Miroku's face, however, told them that it was, indeed, the right story.
"So technically…you got the answer to the riddle, Your Highness," said one judge uncertainly to the Princess.
"She did," pointed out Miroku helpfully.
"I didn't," said Sango as she cast her eyes downward. And then, even more softly, she continued, "and that's not the end of the story about the swan. Another prince came along, and--and he promised to be different. Unlike the others, he was able to get hold of the swan, but he did what the others would not--could not--do. He released it. He had understood that much about its nature. He had tried to set it free--he had tried to set me free…I wouldn't have been able to solve the riddle without him."
The noise in the courtroom grew to be so loud that it took a few minutes for peace to be restored.
"Do you know what this means, Princess Sango?" asked one judge gravely.
"I know," she said quietly, not glancing at Miroku's direction.
Squaring her shoulders, she said clearly, "It's true. I got the answer from him last night. I will admit to that much. As your Princess, I will have you all know that even if it pains me…I know my limits, and I will not be unfair. The Prince gave me a choice, and now I have made my decision. I choose him."
She held the confession short, leaving the agonizing details out as much as possible. What remained of her pride would not allow her to elaborate anymore than what was necessary. What she had said was more than enough.
She stepped down from the podium and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster. The great doors of the courtroom closed behind her without her hearing the judges' decree.
It was unnecessary.
And as the meaning of her words slowly sank in on the audience, one cheer tentatively led to another, picking up in speed and volume until it became a roar, until peace was impossible to restore in court.
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"Sango!"
It was too much to bear. She couldn't stop, couldn't talk to him just now. She hurried out to the balcony, down the marble stairs. Quickly, quickly, before he could catch up, before the whole kingdom could burst in upon them.
"Sango, wait!" A hand grasped her arm, turned her around to face him. "Not so fast…"
She kept her eyes resolutely on the ornate folds of his black cloak as it swept its way down from his shoulder. He had been running. She could tell by the way his chest was rising and falling.
"Look at me, Sango," he said softly, urgently. "What just happened back there?"
She shook her head stubbornly. "What did it look like?" she ground out.
"Why did you do it?" he asked, a note of wonder creeping into his voice.
"I had to!" she cried. "You were so hell-bent on sacrificing yourself when I never asked you to in the first place!"
And there it was. The piece of evidence that he had been looking for in the last three days. His search, done half in agony, half in hope, was over. She did not say the actual words. She did not have to.
She did not resist as he gathered her in his arms, and she leaned into him as he held her close. It was all over, and for once, she did not care. They had both won.
"Did you have any idea what I was going through back there?" he asked tenderly. "I didn't know what was going to happen…"
"Then why were you backing me up?" she asked, unable to keep a querulous note from showing in her voice. "You were so…dumb!"
He laughed ruefully. "I thought that was what you wanted," he said, "and I can't force you into something you don't want."
"You won't be able to make me," she said truthfully as she brought her arms up his back.
He looked down at her for a moment. "And is this what you want?" he asked.
"Yes," she breathed as she smiled into his eyes.
Slowly, tentatively, he brought his head down for their first kiss.
Long minutes passed.
"I thought I wasn't going to be able to trust you," she said when they were able to speak again. "I mean, all those women--are those stories even true?"
He sighed as she felt him shrug. "Some of it, I guess," he said. "Only, I haven't been able to find what I've been looking for then."
"And have you now?" she asked, a trace of doubt entering her voice. "I'm not exactly the easiest person you'll ever get to know, and I'm used to standing up for myself. I doubt if that will qualify for a Happily-Ever-After story--"
"It's a start," he said smilingly. " And that would make it even more interesting, don't you think? I've finally come across someone who is her very own person."
Stepping back from her, he took something out from his cloak. "And speaking of decrees, let me issue my first one right now."
Miroku glanced down at the folded cloth in his hand, thinking how he had been planning to use it against her if the need arose. It didn't, and for that, she had his infinite respect and admiration.
He draped her gray cloak over her shoulders. "Send forth the best tailors in the kingdom," he said, "and let this cloak be embroidered with silver and gold thread. It shall be your wedding veil, my dearest wife."
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Fin