Lur… no author's note today… I just basically wrote this chapter to stall doing homework. Hence, it's rather short. But, hey, that's what you get, right? Besides, there really isn't much more to say in this chappie; I didn't want to drag it out longer than it needed to be. So, without further ado, here's chapter three!

Day Three

By noon the next day, Sango found herself wandering through the palace courtyards again. After four hours of sitting in the throne room, listening to one suitor after another proclaim his "undying affection" for her, the princess didn't want to pass up a chance to exit the stuffy castle and get some fresh air. Maybe I'll watch the guards train again today, Sango thought, absentmindedly eyeing the knights' quarters quite a distance away. Then and again, after what happened yesterday, I'm not sure I'll be watching them for a while…

No sooner had this thought crossed her mind did she see him.

Miroku.

Again.

Alone.

The guard sat beneath a tree, a shadow falling delicately over his face like a silk skirt over Sango's legs. He held one knee close to his chest and was looking off to the side so that it looked as though he was posing for a picture. His eyes, however, were impassive, which, as Sango had learned over the course of the past two days, wasn't an appearance they took up oft.

Suddenly, the guard stirred from his motionless pose and looked toward the princess. As soon as his gaze met her own, Miroku's eyes changed from stoic to contented just as quickly as Sango's face turned pale to pink. Bowing his head slightly, the guard murmured, "Hello, Princess. Fancy seeing you here."

The sound of his voice jolted Sango from her paralyzed state and made her relive the previous day's events. Don't forget, he's still a letch; you can't trust him now. Nodding rapidly, Sango said, "Hello, kishi-sama."

Miroku's eyebrows rose somewhat, and a satisfied smile graced Sango's lips. He knew that he'd told her his name the day before, and the only polite thing to do was to call him "Sir Miroku" or even "Miroku-sama". However, the princess was wary of the man's "habit", so until she determined that he could be trusted—which, at the rate he was going, was never—"kishi-sama" stayed.

"What brings you to me?" Miroku asked, simpering as he cocked his head, ponytail falling lazily to one side of his neck.

Sango crossed her arms, smug look completely wiped away from her face, and turned away from him. "I'm not here for you. I'm on break, as a matter of fact."

"On break? Meaning that you, the princess, needs to work?"

Sango glanced back his way and saw that he was smiling playfully again. Trying to fix her eyes on anything but that grin, she responded, "Actually, for the next few days, I'll be searching for my future husband."

"Ah," said the guard, "The 'Ceremony of Sixteen', then?"

"That's the one."

Miroku nodded. "Every girl's dream, hm?"

Sango snorted. "Everyone's but mine," she stated plainly. For some reason, her legs began moving without any consent from her brain, and, in the course of the next few moments, the princess found herself sitting beside the guard under the cool shade of the tree. Seeing her current position, Miroku smiled and asked, "And why is that, dear princess?"

"Sango," she said simply, "My name is Sango."

"And mine is Miroku, but you don't call me by that, do you?" he said, his voice replete with amusement. Sango, however, responded by turning abruptly and shooting a look that plainly stated, "Shut up." In fact, she said just that, in addition to, "I'm the princess, and I say that I'm Sango and you're kishi-sama."

Miroku sighed, clearly defeated, and turned away from the girl. "Alright, then, Sango," he said mordantly. "I'll be kishi-sama. But you still never answered my question; why aren't you looking forward to your wedding ceremony?"

Sango looked down and hugged her knees to her chest. "I… it's nothing, really. It's just… I don't like getting forced into things… and most of the men that have courted me are selfish pigs anyway…" Miroku barely managed to hold back a snort of laughter, and the princess glanced at him disdainfully. "Why am I telling you this, anyway? It doesn't really make a difference…" Besides, she thought, he's a womanizer himself. It's not like he cares about…

"Sango, Sango, Sango," Miroku tutted, shaking his head, thereby interrupting the princess' train of thought. "You don't see the falsity in your words." As the knight counted off Sango's mistakes, he held up another finger. "First off, this 'Ceremony of Sixteen' of ours is a tradition; there's no stopping it from happening, no matter how much any of us resist it. In saying that, you're not really 'getting forced into it', but, instead, everyone else around you is going with its inescapable flow. Second, not all men are pigs as you say. Some of us live to fulfill the desires of the fairer sex…"

At this point, Sango felt something move across her butt… something that certainly wasn't the wind or a leaf… The princess' face contorted in anger, and she slapped the guard for the second time since she'd met him. "Though some men are too fulfilling," she said dryly as the guard clutched his now-red face in agony. "True, true," he mumbled, suddenly rising to his feet. He turned back to her and held out his other hand, smiling despite the new pain in his face as he helped her to her feet. "You third inaccuracy is that what you said does make a difference."

"And why is that?"

"Because I care about you."

Sango's eyes widened. "I care about you." Those were words she had heard only once before, from Kagome the evening Naraku had tried to force himself on her. Being the princess, Sango's only functions were to take the throne one day as queen, make and enforce a few new laws, and bear at least one healthy child that would take her place someday. She wasn't supposed to care about anything but her people, just as her subjects shouldn't care so much about her. But him. Miroku. He, of all people… cared?

Sango knew full well that showing her astonishment at his statement would be a mistake on her part, so, instead, she jerked her hand away from his grasp and said, "Well, then, if you truly cared, you'd apologize."

Miroku quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head in a befuddled manner. "Apologize? For what?"

"For saying what you did to Koharu and for being so immature," Sango said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Miroku laughed and shook his head, ponytail waving. "Mistaken again, Sango, mistaken again. You are currently looking at the most mature man on the guard."

Sango harrumphed. "If by 'mature' you mean 'lecherous', then you're absolutely right."

The guard sighed. Beaten again. "Alright then, I apologize for my behavior yesterday." He walked ahead a few steps in the direction of the side entrance to the throne room. Sango followed him almost as though she was attached to a leash that he held. "But know this," he said, looking at the girl and holding up a finger for emphasis, "I truly mean it. I really am sorry."

Sango turned, and, in doing so, looked right into his eyes. And playing in his purple orbs was that unmistakable sincerity again. Somehow, the simple of action of looking straight at him made Sango believe every word he said. "Okay then," she said quietly, breaking her gaze away from his. "Apology accepted."

As soon as the words left her mouth, however, a trumpet's cry rang out, echoing over the grounds for a moment before it disappeared completely. Both Sango and Miroku understood the sound; it meant that a person of royalty was approaching the palace, and, considering that Sango was to be married off in a few days, it was most likely another suitor who had come to woo her. For some reason, the girl sighed, and she stopped walking, looking down. "That's probably for me. I'd better go now, kishi-sama."

Miroku smiled. "Alright, then. Here, the door to the throne room is right over there. I'll walk you over." The guard then wasted no time in linking his arm with Sango's and escorting her the remaining distance to the door. Blushing madly, the girl stammered, "Uh… yes, yes thank you." Regaining her composure, Sango now questioned, "But… why are you being so polite all of a sudden?"

Miroku stopped then, for the two had reached the door. However, neither of them made any motion to leave the other's side. The guard smiled and knelt suddenly, looking up at his superior. "Sango," he said softly, and his voice alone was enough to send shivers up the princess' spine. Or perhaps those tremors were caused by the fact that Miroku now held her left hand in his two. "Sango, know that it is the duty of a guard such as myself to be polite to his employer. And also, know that…" He paused briefly to plant a kiss on the girl's wrist before looking up again. "…your wish is my command."

Another kiss. Then…

"I swear to you, princess, that, no matter how many people turn against you in the future, I'll always be by your side to protect you. I'll sacrifice myself for your sake. I am not worthy of someone such as yourself; someone of your standing and beauty. Just promise that you'll let me stay near you, and all of my heart's desires will have been fulfilled. Will you…" Kiss. "…honor my request?"

Sango, whose face had turned tomato-red at his speech, opened her mouth to say something. However, the words stuck in her throat, so all she could manage was an indistinct squeak. After what seemed like an eternity, the knight rose and, smiling, said, "You can get back to me on that, if you wish." And, with that, the man winked, turned, and left her there. Sango was barely aware of herself reaching out in his direction and croaking, "Don't… go…"

The princess blinked and reality kicked in again. What in Kami-sama's name are you doing? This is… him! He's a womanizer, remember? You despise men like him. So why are you acting all lovey-dovey? You're not Koharu! Sango nodded to herself and said aloud, "Yeah, but, he's… different somehow…" I can't really put my finger on what, but it's definitely there. Sango sighed, placing her hands on her hips. All of this thinking was giving her a headache, and she needed all the energy she could scrounge up to listen to yet another group of suitors…

Sango, who had since started walking through the now-open door into the throne room, stopped dead in her tracks. Miroku knew full well that her sixteenth birthday was coming up and that, everyday, she was being attacked by scores of potential husbands. He'd probably thought, "What difference will one more make?" and courted her then.

The girl gasped at her realization.

Just now, Miroku had courted her.

Sango slammed the door behind her shut. Screw him! she mentally fumed. Screw guys like him! He was putting on an act again! Damn it, how could I think like that? 'He's different' and all of that crap! That's all bull! He's just another guy who wants to gain power and give his social standing a boost. He's not different. Not in the least.

After taking a moment to calm down, the princess sat on her throne and, for the next few hours, listened to twenty more noble men propose to her. All of them were dismissed immediately after their proclamation. By the end of the day, she found herself in her room with Kagome, per usual, the lady-in-waiting yammering on about something stupid Inu-Yasha had done. Sango just listened quietly, though she really didn't pick up on anything her servant said. Eventually, the princess grew weary and crawled into her bed, her sheets pulled up to her chin. The girl fell asleep straight away, not stirring until the morning sun slipped into her room through a stained-glass window. But, even while slumbering, that guard wouldn't leave her alone. Actually, no, not the guard. Those damn eyes of his. Why do they have to look so heartfelt? Why? Is it actually possible that he isn't like my other suitors? That he really is… different?

End chapter.

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