The Queen's Honor Guard
by Nyohah
II.
Mandalore's winter, though distinctive, was never severe. Even on the coldest of days, the army trained outside, though the recruits were more appreciative of their heavy uniform dress on the cold days than they were on the warm, stuffy summer ones.
Rubbing his hands together as he issued another command, Hua Quy Ling reflected that it was far less warming to be the instructor than the student. He remembered wishing he could shed a few layers even during the winter when training under Vendetta.
Over the ocean, the sun had reached its most annoying point—exactly eye-level—and Quy Ling knew it was time for the lesson to end. He ended it quickly and dismissed his students, watching to ensure they stored their mock weapons in the proper places, and listening intently to their conversation. After only one month teaching the basics of weapons to the rookies, he had noticed that those who complained the most, especially about trivial things such as the weather, were the first to drop out. He'd rather not waste his efforts painstakingly correcting those who didn't have the perseverance or dedication to develop their skills.
He courteously nodded to the last of the students leaving, waited half a second, and dashed out the other door.
Halfway across the training field, he could see that she was still on duty. She taught the basics of defense, one of the many other courses the new recruits were rotated through for their basic training before they branched off into their personal areas of expertise.
The top half of Kei Sa's ebony hair was pulled up into two thin braided pigtails that whipped around as she spun, evading her student's attack in demonstration. She wore a long-sleeved, button-down, white dress that opened in order to allow a large range of motion. It parted just below her waist in the front, revealing her white shorts underneath. The two flaps of her dress fluttered and twirled with every kick, making her naturally graceful movements seem even more like a dance than they did under normal circumstances.
Quy Ling treaded resolutely toward her as she wrapped up the day's lessons and ended her class. She smiled at the students as they left, encouraging them effortlessly, and he stepped up beside her. She turned to leave, and seeing him in her path, sighed.
"Won't you leave me alone?"
"No." He stubbornly stood his ground, and she pushed around him, doing her best to ignore him.
Kei Sa hurried away, more hastily than usual, and he fell into step behind her. As they entered the palace, Quy Ling immediately noticed her slight course changes, noting that she was not heading toward her quarters. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"I am going to visit a friend," she answered flatly.
He felt a sudden flash of envy. Was she ignoring him only to seek out a suitor elsewhere? Was he being shunned? Was he too pushy? Did he annoy her? Did she hate him?
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. She was most likely visiting some female friend of hers to discuss girly things.
And yet, that was not at all like her.
"Is this a male friend?" he asked, trying to hide his suspicion.
"Is this your business?" She did not sound amused, sharply turning a corner as though attempting to lose his pursuit.
Quy Ling recognized the section of the building as one of the areas that had been reassigned to the slaves when they'd been freed. His own quarters were only a few halls away. Kei Sa stopped abruptly and opened a door without knocking, as though it were her own. A glimpse inside the room revealed it to be an untidy mess of electronic parts: wires, batteries, small motors, microchips, and other such junk.
"Yen Sa?" called Kei Sa into the room, a decidedly male name. "I need your help."
She took one step into the room, and deliberately slammed the door in his face. He heard the click of a lock a split-second later, and tried the knob to be sure.
In frustration, he pounded his fist on the doorframe and stormed away.
A few straggling trainees, as they were passing by the royal stables on their way to their quarters, heard the scratching sounds of a novice's attempt at the violin. The sound faintly carried across the field, originating deep inside the stables near a noble ebony stallion.
Yuen Ming's violin moaned a few notes, and then its player leaned toward her stallion and whispered, "Maybe I should just run away again. Royalty is not all it's hyped up to be."
Sighing, she tucked her precious instrument under her right arm and reached up to rub her horse's forehead. "I wish you could give me advice. I have no one to turn to. I wish I could ask Kei Sa, but she just got free of problems. It would be wrong of me to impose them upon her again."
A sharp creak jolted her out of her own little world, and she whipped her head around to see the intruder.
He was an extremely old man, in flowing robes, with a long beard and mustache. "Do you always give free concerts to your livestock?"
Ming fixed a stern gaze on the man. "You are not welcome here, Shang Tsung. I command you to leave at once, or I will call the army to have you permanently removed from this world." She stolidly raised her violin into play position again, and began a simple slow song that she had taught herself.
Tsung grimaced. "Now I know why. Anything intelligent would try to flee from this infernal racket."
Ming shot him a glare that would melt the arctic.
"Peace, peace, woman," he said, raising his hands pacifically. "I know we were at odds before, but I mean you no harm. I merely thought it strange that one so vehement to arranged marriage in the past, is now meekly accepting it."
"I am warning you, Tsung," she harshly replied. "One scream and you will be surrounded by a hundred armed guards."
"I doubt they would reach me in time. Farewell, fair queen." He bowed in a mocking gesture and vanished.
Ming raised her bow and prepared to start her song again, but her hand quivered, and she burst into frustrated tears.
Yuen Ming sprinted down the marble hallways, past the kitchens, and into an area of well-worn rugs and shabbier decorations, where the marble of the doorframes was chipped from abuse.
She tried to ignore the feeling that she didn't belong, and frantically searched for Kei Sa's door number. Her door looked no different from the rest, but unlike the situation for the rest of the former slaves, these quarters were not many times better than Kei Sa's former living accommodations. A room in Ming's vast chambers was painfully empty, and Ming wondered if Kei Sa was truly satisfied with her new arrangements.
She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. A few seconds later she impatiently rattled the handle, but it was locked. "Kei Sa?" she called through the door, struggling to keep back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her like a tidal wave. She pounded on the shabby door. "Please, Kei Sa!"
"What is it, my queen?" said a quiet voice behind her, startling her and causing her to jump around to face it.
Kei Sa looked unperturbed by the queen's behavior; yet she always seemed unshakable.
Ming brushed away the saltwater gathering in her eyes. "Kei Sa, I..." She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her problem, or even exactly what her problem was.
"Yuen Po is not a tyrant," said Ming's former handmaiden. "Perhaps you should speak with her." She stepped forward and unlocked her door, then paused. "You will speak with her?"
Ming nodded slowly. "In the morning," she said.
Kei Sa smiled faintly, then entered her room.
The next morning, Ming stumbled across her rooms, clumsily pulling on her shoes, and tying her sash with shaking hands.
She had rehearsed her words a thousand times in her mind, throughout the sleepless night and the restless hours of morning before Yuen Po typically emerged from her chambers, but her carefully constructed arguments were unraveling themselves in her mind, falling into incoherent jumbles of worthless words.
She left the security of her rooms, wincing as she passed the spot at which Cai Yue had sat and unpleasant memories forced themselves into conscious thought. Trying to waste extra minutes, she attempted to keep her pace slow, and her stance regal, but the urgency of the situation overrode her wishes, and she found herself nearly jogging across the marble floors until she breathlessly reached her great-great-grandmother's room.
Yuen Po stepped out of her room just as Ming had passed the final corner, and expectantly waited for the young queen to explain herself.
Ming breathed hard, her voice failing her, and her planned words disappearing into oblivion. After a period of discomforting silence, Yuen Po swung open the door.
"Come inside, my child," she said, "and we will speak." The old monarch ushered the girl into her room, furnished in warm, inviting colors.
Ming sat in an uncomfortably hard chair, and clasping her hands in her lap, she stared at the intricate weaving of the rug. She lifted her head and opened her mouth to speak, then abruptly broke down into tears, hiding her face in her hands.
"Do you really hate him so much?" asked Yuen Po.
Ming shook her head, and wiped away her tears, her shoulders still trembling. "No, Grandmamma, I do like him. He's amusing and intelligent, and I could hardly expect anything more than what he offers." She bit her lip, forcing herself to stop validating the older woman's plan. "But...Grandmamma...I do not love him." She rubbed her eyes and stared down at her squirming feet. "Do you wish me to marry without love?"
Yuen Po sighed, and walked away. She pushed aside the curtain of her large-paned window and stared out at the sparkling ocean.
Ming's face turned incredulous at her great-great-grandmother's behavior. "Are you listening to what I say?" she asked, nearly shouting.
The old woman slowly turned to face the younger. "You do realize, my dear," she said mildly, "that I have striven to protect you since you were born. This is but another step; a large step, yet necessary." She turned back to the window, and motioned for Ming to join her.
"The ocean, as it stretches to the horizon, seems an infinite area. Yet the visible portion is a mere fraction of the populated land of Mandalore. Supposing that half the population is male, and an eighth of the men are of roughly the same age as you and unmarried, how many do you think would wed you for your position, your wealth, and your power?"
Ming looked down angrily, unwillingly conceding to the argument.
"My dear," continued Yuen Po, "we are in the fortunate position to have found a man whose position is nearly equal to yours and who has taken a fancy to you. Do you think it will happen again?"
"Even so, Grandmamma," countered Ming, "if there was truly love between us, it would not matter what his position was. He wouldn't abuse me in such a manner."
Yuen Po sighed. "Ah, the carefree ideologies of youth." She shook her head. "Love is not the all-encompassing guarantee of happiness you think it is. Ignoring all else, your mother married for love."
Ming's face twisted as she struggled not to weep. "That was cruel," she stammered, and the tears began to flow uncontrollably.
Yuen Po hugged her. "Reality is cruel." She held her great-great-granddaughter for several minutes, then released her to fetch a handkerchief.
"I shall make you a deal," Yuen Po said, handing it to Ming. "You have heard my reasoning. Your wedding is scheduled two days from now, at noon. You have until midnight to find another whom you love, and who reciprocates these feelings, and whom you can convince me is equally as trustworthy as Li Wei Yong."
It sounded impossible. She had less than fifteen hours in which to find her true love?
But then, she remembered everything—the gifts, the constant companionship, the crying, and even the kiss—and it hit her, instantaneously enlightening her to an explanation of years of inexplicable behavior and mixed feelings.
She abruptly straightened, and regained composure. "Yes, Grandmamma, it is an excellent idea," she said cordially.
And ran.
Ming knew precisely where she was headed. Never before had such a quest been so obvious. The rest of her life hung on one small chance, and she was not about to waste her only hope.
She raced through the halls, dodging servants and other citizens, nearly crashing into many, refusing to halt her sprint for any person.
Finally she saw the door of the Rahs' apartment, and she slammed her body into it, the knob not turning rapidly enough for her needs.
She conquered the door and burst into their living room, standing in a fidgety silence while they incredulously stared up at her sudden intrusion.
"Where is Cai Yue?" she panted.
His mother seemed indifferent. "I don't know."
"You 'don't know'?" Ming skeptically inquired. "He's disappeared and you 'don't know'?"
"Your Righteousness," Mrs. Rah said, over politely, "he disappears all the time, and he's never been in serious trouble before."
"Yes," Ming replied, beginning to feel the threat of futility surrounding the ordeal, "but he's always disappeared with me!" She rushed out the door and slammed it behind her.
Mr. Rah slowly lowered his head to resume examining the gold market prices, and Mrs. Rah shook her head disapprovingly.
"She is most certainly a terrible influence. It's for the best that she will soon be married, and far away from our son. Perhaps Li Wei Yong can tame that girl."
Her husband nodded absently.
Hours later, Ming dragged herself back to her chambers. Every step wrenched deep into her heart. It had to be a nightmare. Reality was not so harsh...
Yet she knew she was awake, and that her situation was far more real than she wanted to acknowledge.
He had disappeared. Vanished. No one had seen him since the banquet. It was all tremendously hopeless; she should've known before she even tried.
Cai Yue did not wish to be found. He knew the palace more thoroughly and roguishly than even the most experienced sentry. And he was gone.
The futility of her situation overwhelmed her, and exhaustion from her search added to her weariness. She hoped for nothing more than the comfort and restoration of slumber, but it evaded her, plaintive sobs preventing its calming state.
The dawn of Yuen Ming's wedding day was a joyous spectacle, reminiscent of the day of freedom, just weeks earlier. Children frolicked in the streets, waving streamers in wild patterns, their parents smiling and laughing with one another. Merchants from all provinces wove through the crowd, having pounced upon the opportunity to spread their specialties among those from other provinces, and perhaps gain global fame.
The majority of the merchants were from the heavily populated Onyx Coast, easily recognizable from their brighter clothing and higher prices. The visitors from Onyx Coast were as distinctive, with nicer, more extravagant clothing than the others, some in colors that even Rah Cai Yue would shun. They had an air of casualty; for the men, it was genuine, for the women, faked, as they 'secretly' tried to outdo the others around them, and yet appear as though they had exerted no effort. Some of them exhibited such extravagance in hair and dress that they rivaled that of the queen, who sat alone at her window, listlessly watching the festivity.
Yuen Ming, soon to be Li Yuen Ming, had been pushed through her preparations like a delicate porcelain doll. Her hair had been intricately braided and twisted upon itself countless times, every weave shining with an immaculate luster, indicative of the excessive time spent merely washing her hair. Alabaster buds were dotted throughout the design, symbolizing the beginning of new life within marriage. Resting atop the crown of her head, just before the piling arrangement of sable hair, sat a silver tiara, forged for the occasion by the finest artisan on the planet.
The immense weight of her hairstyle pressed upon Ming as the personification of her every emotion. She felt restricted by her dress, bearing even more layers than usual, in ivory and gray, like a cocoon that served no purpose other than to keep her captive and display her as a mannequin. Her dried make-up painted a serene face she hadn't the strength to bear.
A quarter of an hour before noon, her servants returned, prepared to escort her to the ceremony. She glanced at them and turned away, her sluggish legs unable to move, her mind unwilling to make them. She heard gentle footsteps, like those of a bird, and a voice quietly urged from just below her, "My queen, we must leave at once, or you shall be late."
It was not the voice of a stranger, who treated her as though she were sacred and entirely without personality. It was the voice of a friend, her companionship sorely missed.
Ming, beginning to tremble with the promise of tears, looked down toward Kei Sa, who knelt on the floor. Her thick dress was deep burgundy, the color a complete contrast to and accentuating the pallor of her face more than the pristine, lifeless white she had worn as a slave and continued to wear in her self-inflicted continuation of the tradition.
"Be brave, Ming," she whispered, "for the sake of Mandalore." Taking the queen's hands, she rose to her feet in a fluid movement, pulling the other up as well.
Ming squeezed her eyes shut and blindly followed the escort out of the tower, every step long since memorized. The noise of the crowd grew consistently until they reached the door that led to the courtyard. Kei Sa opened the door, and the din abruptly ceased, a few voices carrying over of those who had been too distracted to notice the change. She led the other servants onto the path; they formed a border, three girls on each side of the path, and knelt.
Ming opened her eyes and stepped outside, stopping between the middle set of girls. She stared at the stone beneath her feet, a short way ahead of her. The ringing of Li Wei Yong's boots on the well-worn stones invaded her ears and in a short time they came into her view, followed by his knees, and stopped.
She lifted her head, and he smiled at her. He was dressed in uniform, with freshly polished, ceremonial pieces of armor—shin and forearm guards, chest plate—every bit the celebrated general. His sable hair was gathered at the base of his neck, though a small chunk was too stubborn to be bound, and fell onto his face instead, obscuring a dark gray eye. He took a quick step and turned to take her arm and push her along the straight path to the church beyond.
Ming glanced at the crowds to either side without moving her head, coldly building mental barriers to block out her distress. Halfway to the church's doors she took notice of a gaudily-dressed woman, clad entirely in a revoltingly-bright shade of yellow, one that had likely found its way into several of Cai Yue's infamous shirts.
She halted at the piercing thought, providing sudden resistance to Wei Yong's firm direction, and stared at the dress, unable to control the sudden burning in her eyes.
"Hey," Wei Yong said quietly, "what's wrong?" He placed the knuckle of a curled finger under her chin and pushed it up gently, catching sight of her first tear. Concerned, he followed the direction of her gaze, noting the woman, but gaining no insight into her trouble.
"Looking at her," he said lightly, "makes me want to cry, as well. There've been supernovas less blazing. She's going to blind everyone that looks at her too long. They'll all go home with odd woman-shaped spots seared on their retinas."
Ming choked on her tears, and allowed him to guide her the rest of the way into the church.
Hundreds of loyal Mandalorian citizens watched the wedding of their queen. Yet only very few realized that the silent tears of Her Righteousness Yuen Ming were not of joy.