AN: Can we say FLUFF? This chapter is nothing but. (that wasn't meant to rhyme…)

Sabishi Tomo – Miyako happens to play the villain in this story and so… I can't have her be kind. I apologize if you prefer a nice Miyako or if she's one of the characters that you favor. Thank you for your review!

Disclaimer: Digimon is not mine.

Chapter Seven – The Sanctuary of Chaos

Breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Sora couldn't remember the last time she woke in a bed as soft and luxurious as the one she currently laid in. It wasn't just the bed that was amazing; it was the entire room. The walls were intricately decorated with various reds and covered with original pieces of artwork. Equally elaborate ornamentations covered the ceiling; gorgeous lush curtains were parted to the side, allowing the natural light to enter the room.

Sora's mind was an odd blend of confusion, fear, and yet happiness. There was something about the room that evoked a feeling of warmth and comfort.

"You're awake."

She turned to the door at the sound of the familiar voice. "Prince Yamato."

"How many times must I remind you to call me Yamato?" The blonde corrected as he made his way to Sora's bedside, looking dangerously handsome as usual.

"Is this—"

"The palace? Yes. After you fainted, I decided that it would be better if you stayed here." He smiled. "You've been resting for four days."

"Four days! Lady Inoue and Miss Miya—"

"Don't worry about them. You're not going back."

She stared at him, not completely comprehending his words. "I'm not…going back?"

"Sora," Yamato sighed and continued, choosing his words, "I don't know what happened in that mansion, and I won't force you to tell me either. But I very much doubt that you would hurt yourself like this." As he spoke, Yamato ran his fingers through her hair, causing her to pull back harshly.

Sora fingered her once waist length auburn hair, now reduced to barely shoulder length. The ends were choppy and uneven, but the texture remained lavish. Obviously, someone had taken out her pins; it wasn't the only thing that had been changed. Realization dawned upon her as the dazing sleep wore off; lifting up the down covers, she suppressed a smile when she discovered a silk nightgown hugging her body and fresh bandages expertly bound on her leg. The prince was too kind to her.

Yamato grinned widely. "Joe's excellent at his craft. He says you've been recovering superbly—in fact, you've been recovering faster than anyone he's ever witnessed. Look, your lip has practically healed."

Sora blinked and slowly held a hand up to trace the fading scabs of her lower lip. Yamato was right; it was practically gone. "Joe?" she asked.

"Joe's the doctor who has been coming in everyday to see you."

"Heavens; thank you. I'll have to thank Joe too."

The prince smirked; even in her condition, Sora did not forget to be polite. "You can thank him today. He'll be coming soon." Unable to hold back, Yamato reached out to touch her hair once more. This time, Sora did not pull back and his fingers entwined with the auburn locks with amazing gentleness.

It was okay—Sora decided then—to be touched by Yamato. It was okay for Yamato to see her whimper. It was okay for Yamato to see her cry. It was okay, as long as it was Yamato. When he was around, she would feel no pain, know no pain—a strange subconscious fact that even Sora hadn't noticed until then. She closed her eyes and relished in the comfort of his touch.

"I'll get this fixed. I promise." Yamato whispered, referring to the harshly cut ends of the auburn strands in his palm. Originally, the ends had been horrendously obtrusive with awkward waist-length strands interlaced with the newly cut. Sora had attempted to clean it up some herself, but alas, she had her limits.

"You've already done so much," she replied, eyes still closed.

"No, I haven't. All I've done is bring you here and send for people."

Sora listened to the prince's words and opened her eyes calmly in curiosity. It almost sounded as if Yamato resented his status, his destiny. If she didn't know better, it sounded as if he deemed himself useless. Chapped pale lips parted as she made an attempt to speak—

"Uh, Your Royal Highness! I'm sorry, I should have announced myself, I should have—" A young man with surprising blue hair stood by the door he had just opened without warning. He looked down at the neatly tiled floors, his spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose and threatening to fall.

Prince Yamato regained composure immediately and retracted his hand from the silken nest it had grown accustomed to. He stood. "Joe, don't be a fool, you didn't do anything wrong so you can stop apologizing now."

The lanky male bowed politely, "Thank you, Your Royal Highness."

Yamato sighed in defeat, there was no getting through to Joe. "Yes, yes." He turned to face Sora who was currently looking up at him with expectant crimson orbs. "Sora, this is Joe, most definitely one of the best physicians you will ever meet."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for looking after me." She greeted, offering Joe her hand as she had been taught to do so long ago by her mother. Sora's mother had always hoped her daughter would become an awe-inspiring lady; she would have been proud to see the woman Sora had blossomed into.

"The pleasure is definitely mine, and I wouldn't give myself so much credit, Lady Sora. Prince Yamato was the one who has been looking after you." The physician leaned forwards to whisper into Sora's ear, slightly more daring than his usual self, but Joe's patients were never considered strangers to him. "The servants tell me that he rarely leaves your bedside. The queen was beginning to suspect that the prince really ran away—or better yet, eloped with a beautiful maiden."

Sora couldn't help but laugh upon hearing Joe's words. She glanced at Yamato, whose feline hearing managed to pick up every word—and she only laughed harder. Yamato's usually calm physiognomy was twisted in concentration, trying to stop the blush from spreading. It was no use; the prince's face was beginning to resemble a pumpkin—a gorgeous pumpkin.

"Do you have any other patients, Joe?" Yamato asked.

Joe chuckled and took the hint. "Not another word, Highness, I'll take my leave as soon as I check on the lady's condition."

Sora's dark crimson eyes followed the movement of Joe's hands as he checked her bandages. "Please, Sora is enough. Call me Sora."

The doctor straightened up after a few minutes of inspection and smiled. "Well Sora, it seems that you're recovering very nicely. I'm sorry but there will be a scar, and even a limp perhaps, but you can learn to walk with it. As for moving around… as little movement as possible would be wisest but a walk in the garden wouldn't do harm either."

"Thank you, doctor."

"Joe. Goodbye miss, I'll return tomorrow."

Joe bowed courteously to the two and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Yamato stared at Sora for a long minute as she yawned cutely, drawing up the covers to her nose. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

She smiled sleepily. "Yes."

"Why don't you take a nap first, I'll call for food."

"Thank you, Prince Yamato."

He opened the door, turned to Sora and bowed. "Yamato. My name is Yamato."

"I can't call you that."

"You can, and I demand it be so."

"I refuse."

Yamato stumbled. Damn this girl was stubborn—

"I like Yama better."

"Pardon?"

"Yama. I think I'd like calling you that."

Silence stretched out between the two, their gazes never leaving the other. A slow grin found its way to Yamato's lips. "I'd like that too."

"Will you come back later?"

"Of course."

Yamato closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

"You're in love with her."

The prince turned to face Joe, who was currently leaning suavely against the corridor wall, arms crossed over his chest. Joe really was much more handsome than most people credited him to be. Yamato let out an exasperated sigh. "No, I'm not."

"Don't lie. We've known each other since our diaper clad times."

"I can't be in love with her. I hardly know her."

"Ah, but you always did believe in love. More than you were ready to admit."

"How—"

"I know you, Yamato."

The blonde sighed tiredly, finally giving into the doctor's persistence. "I hate it when you're so polite."

"I can't exactly run into a room and invite you out to drink until we both regurgitate a year's worth of dinners."

They headed to the kitchen in silence, just two childhood friends. "How is she?"

Joe glanced at Yamato with a smug smirk on his lips. "Who?"

The prince glared. "You know who."

"Not in love, are we?"

"Not in love."

A pause. "It's very obvious she's been treated terribly. She's suffering from malnutrition; her hands are coarse and blistered; and still, she's healing at an incredible rate. Yamato, whether you love her or not, I trust you to not send her back to that house."

"Don't worry Joe, I might be an arrogant prick, but I'm not senseless."

Joe chuckled. "I should be leaving now," he announced.

"One last thing."

"Yes Highness?"

Yamato sent the doctor a glare before continuing, "Do you remember the Takenouchi family?"

"Faintly. I only remember Lord Takenouchi had the most unique red shading of hair and eyes."

"Doesn't it remind you of someone?"

He raised a blue brow, "But I thought the daughter died years ago."

"It would seem that was a lie."

§

True to his word, Yamato returned to Sora's bedside a short while later. He sat in an armchair he had pulled up to her bed, watching as she slept contently and torn between letting her sleep or waking her up to eat. God knows she needed both.

Not in love. He watched as auburn strands swept across her forehead and vibrated lightly in her breath. Not in love. He watched as her slender fingers twisted unconsciously around the blankets, pinching the soft fabric. Not in love. He watched as her chest rose with every breath she took.

Yamato began to sing.

At first it was a soft hum, but gradually evolved into a slow tune, the words clear and well written.

Sora wasn't sure which was better, waking up to the smell of hot breakfast, or waking up to the prince's voice. She had woken up the moment he had walked into the room; the mouth-watering aroma of breakfast teased her senses. Curious about what the prince would do, Sora feigned sleep. After many years of practice with the Inoues, feigning sleep had become a specialty.

She felt him close by, felt his beautiful cobalt eyes focused on her. It was an odd feeling, definitely different than knowing Janine was watching her; different than knowing the Inoues were carefully keeping an eye on her. Yamato's stare made Sora feel… content and… loved and…

Nervous.

She began to pinch the blankets lightly—an old habit. Seconds later, Sora sucked in a breath as Yamato's voice began to fill the room.

§

Breakfast was ridiculously delicious. Sora didn't know what to eat first as Yamato revealed the different delights from bacon, tea, pastries, to fruits, sausages, and eggs. Needless to say, she ate to her heart's content.

Prince Yamato never touched the food and instead, he watched her as she ate. Despite a few minutes of awkward silence and Sora's heart threatening to break free of her chest, an easy conversation began among them.

Sora listened to Yamato talk and responded with the proper reactions: a smile, a nod, a frown. She liked listening to him talk, and for the first time in many years, Sora felt free and fully able to enjoy conversations without the fear of being whipped as an aftereffect.

It was wonderful.

Yamato was chatting his heart out, talking about everything from the latest politics to the weather. "—but I think that it'll clear up soon, don't you? You have no idea what you're missing in the gardens."

Sora giggled lightly at Yamato's array of random words and glanced at the wall opposite the door—a wall in the shape of a semicircle, lined with floor to ceiling windows with a glass door leading to the small balcony overlooking the gardens. The skies were a musky gray, much different than the clear blue that had dominated just hours ago.

"Highness, could you open a window?"

Yamato frowned at the small request. "It's going to rain soon."

"Yes but please, just a little, Yama? I love the smell of rain."

He melted at the name. It was like a loving pet name and Yamato swore he was just about to do anything for her whenever she used that name. "I warn you, don't get sick." Since the floor to ceiling windows did not open, Yamato opened the balcony door, just a little. "Pleased, milady?"

"Absolutely." Sora tried to rest further into the soft down pillows and smiled contently. "Yamato?"

"Lady Sora?"

She frowned. "I am not calling you Prince, why must you call me Lady?"

Yamato took a seat in the cushioned armchair once more and stared into Sora's crimson pools. "Because, Lady Sora Takenouchi, that is who you are."

There was no reaction in her face, much less in her eyes and Yamato almost began to wonder if he had made a mistake. But then she spoke, "I suppose it is obvious. I don't see why the Inoues try so hard to deny it."

Yamato blinked. Sora's sudden change in attitude was surprising, and he loved it. He wanted her to be more outspoken, less polite, more carefree, less worrisome. "You have claims to the land and the mansion, they're… afraid of you."

She smirked. "Ironic isn't it?" Then Sora paused and turned to face the prince. "How much do you have figured out?"

"Your father died, Lady Inoue is your stepmother, you are Lady Sora Takenouchi…"

"My mother died first, Prince Yamato. I was eight when she died of an illness. My father was constantly away, doing his job, and sleeping with countless whores, but my mother never despaired. In the span of two years, my father managed to run through two wives, until he finally passed away during the third marriage, to Lady Inoue. Miyako is my stepsister, no blood relation. Soon after, when I was eleven, Lady Inoue decided I should've been 'earning my keep' as she put it and I was put to work. It's been like that since. I can't remember the last time I was called Lady, until you."

Yamato listened to Sora's story, focused on every word. She had shortened the story quite a bit, and he wanted details. He wanted to learn everything about her. "Sora…" With one quick movement, Yamato scooped Sora into his arms. He had been so selfish, complaining about his duties while there were people who suffered daily, people like Sora who had suddenly become perfection in his eyes. Her strength, humor, anger, wit, coy, shyness, honesty, and even the vexing way she had stubbornly refused to call him by his name—he loved it all.

"Yama, I'm fine. You're about a decade too late."

He laughed, still not wanting to let go of her.

"I must be filthy. It's not proper for you to—"

"No. Anything is proper coming from you. You are perfect."

"…mato… Yamato… Yamato!"

The prince's eyes widened at the sound of the familiar painfully high voice, but before he could hide in the closet or out the balcony, Catherine Grant charged into the room.

The couple broke apart immediately (or more like Sora pulled away from Yamato). They closed their eyes with such force it brought tears and covered their delicate ears with their hands, bracing themselves from the scream that rang out through the palace. When the screaming finally subsided, Yamato stood and sent a glare to the silhouette by the door. "God woman, this is a palace, not an opera house. There are halls constructed for such purposes."

Sora would have laughed if Yamato didn't look so deadly serious. She glanced at the door and bit back a frown. The young woman was pretty—no, she was beautiful and donned a gown that was undoubtedly made from the most expensive of the exotic, imported fabrics. Her light brown locks were pinned up with care and her aquamarine eyes shone brightly as they darted from Yamato to Sora (though Sora was pretty sure that the light cerulean orbs did not usually hold so much anger).

"Yamato! What has she done to you!"

"Miss Grant, you will address me as Prince and please refrain from referring to my guests so informally. This is Lady Sora." He turned to the redhead and gave a reassuring ghost of a smile. "Sora, this is Catherine Grant."

Catherine fumed and refused to acknowledge the other woman. She kept her eyes locked on Yamato's form, unwilling to even blink for fear of losing him.

The little nymph in bed however, tried her best to smile and nodded politely, "Lady Grant, how do you do?"

Catherine glared at Sora, disgusted by the façade that the woman could keep up. "Good day," she bit out, once again returning her gaze to Yamato, who hadn't moved from the bedside. Tears welled up in her crystal aquamarine eyes as Catherine turned and ran out the room in a ruffle of skirts.

Sora watched with wide-eyed astonishment as the other woman fled and turned her attention to Yamato, who was now staring intently at his boots. "I feel there is something that I have not been informed of," she said soberly, but a smirk played at her lips.

The prince blushed. "My father… my mother and I think he's trying to, uh… finally—"

"Force you to wed? Find you a good wife? Catherine Grant perhaps?"

"I'd rather take a cow for a wife."

She laughed. "I'd be careful of my words if I were you."

"At least a cow would give a sufficient amount of milk. Catherine? There is nothing she is even capable of doing," Yamato mumbled.

"My Prince! I have never heard you say such unkind things!" Sora fanned herself with her right hand, mocking one of the aristocrats who visited the mansion often.

He chuckled at her response and fought to keep a straight face. "I've heard you say worse things."

Fiery brows furrowed together. "When?"

Yamato leaned over Sora, placing his hands on either side of her slender frame and bending down to her ear. She stilled as he whispered.

"In my dreams…"

Sora flushed quicker than a crab in a scorching skillet, as if a tidal wave had just slammed into her. She placed her hands against the prince's toned chest and pushed him away with such might that the blonde had to steady himself on the bedpost. "Scoundrel!" she yelled, laughing as a pillow flew into Yamato's face.

His voice rang out through the room, cloaking every inch with his mellow baritone laughter. "Lady Sora, if you do not desist, I will be forced to retaliate!"

Another pillow hit him squarely in the face.

Yamato suddenly found it foolish to put so many cushions on a bed and picked up the fallen feathery missiles, tossing them towards the vixen. "I'll take into account your injuries and forgive you."

She looked at him skeptically. "You're too kind."

"People often tell me so."

"What in the—"

The young couple quieted immediately as Queen Natsuko stepped into the room and glanced from her son (who had a light blush on his cheeks) to the oddly familiar young woman who lay in bed. "Yamato, what is going on here?" she finally asked the prince after a moment's silence.

Yamato stared at the floor, bathed in the embarrassing sensation of having his mother walk in on him flirting with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. "Mother, you remember Sora don't you?"

Queen Natsuko directed her attention to Sora in bed and quickly scanned the woman's uneven auburn strands, and dark ruby eyes. There was no doubt about it, "Takenouchi?"

Sora blinked. How in the world did the Queen know? "Yes your Majesty. Sora Takenouchi."

Natsuko smiled elegantly. "I knew your mother well. I heard stories of your father."

Sora's eyes lit up at the mention of her mother, but quickly scowled at her father's name. "What kind of stories, Your Majesty?"

"Stories of Lord Takenouchi's handsome features, flaming hair and fiery eyes. And, stories of you."

"Me?"

"My dear, I cannot tell you the kind of man your father was, but I can tell you that he loved you dearly."

Sora lowered her lashes, doubting the statement and unwilling to go against the Queen's word. Her father loved only himself—her mother too at one point, but in the end, he only cared for himself. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Natsuko raised a brow at Sora's hesitance but her smile never wavered. She turned to her son. "Yamato, I trust that you've been taking care of Lady Sora and making sure she has anything she needs?"

"Of course, mother." Yamato answered proudly.

"Wonderful." A pause. "Oh yes, your father would like a word with you. Miss Grant came bursting in with tears and we can't make heads or ends of her story. I suppose that horrendous sound that was heard earlier was coming from here?"

"Yes."

The Queen's eyes darted back and forth from the two and silently mouthed an "Oh." "I see… well… Yamato, we'll need to straighten this up with your father."

He scowled. "I don't know what game the two of them are playing, but I'm not a pawn for them to manipulate. I shall marry who I choose."

"And you will still have to have your father's approval."

§

Yamato arrived at the informal study, where Catherine's wild screams could be heard. The room was vast as all the rooms were and the walls were covered with Rococo style decorations. Luxurious divans with matching cushions were carefully positioned about the room to create a comfortable and productive atmosphere.

"—a commoner!" Catherine squealed and held up her silk handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes delicately.

"You wanted to see me?" Yamato growled, forgetting formalities.

King Hiroaki stopped from rubbing his temples in aggravation and glanced up at his son. His eyes filled with relief and rage all at once. "Yamato! Is what Lady Grant says true? Have you stolen away a mistress in the palace!"

Queen Natsuko coughed wildly.

The prince's cobalt eyes narrowed. "I have not stolen away a mistress. Sora is the daughter of Lord Takenouchi and she's ill. I offered hospitality."

"She certainly didn't look very ill to me." Catherine blurted out.

"Sora's injured and her health is frail. Call Joe and ask him yourself, father."

"I was told that Takenouchi's daughter had long since passed away." The King replied, steeping his fingers in his chin in thought.

"Sora's very much alive." Yamato said hotly, sending a careful glare to Catherine in warning.

Obviously she was denser than given credit for. She lunged at him at the next moment. "Yamato, don't you see? It's a trick! She's a commoner! Common!"

"There is nothing common about Sora and though there is no doubt in my mind that she is Lord Takenouchi's daughter, her birth is insignificant."

The Queen gasped and her eyes lit up with hope.

Hiroaki's brows rose. "Enlighten me."

Yamato let out a vexed sigh. "I brought Sora to the palace when I realized she needed medical attention—"

"She's diseased!" Catherine cried, throwing herself onto a couch in unladylike fashion.

"—and I sent for Joe. He tended to her wounds and she's recovering well, but her health is still frail." The prince explained, giving the small audience a severely condensed adaptation and praying that they did not inquire further.

The King's features were twisted in a skeptical stare but the Queen cut in before a word could be said. "It's true Hiroaki, she did seem rather pale, and such a lovely young lady too. You wouldn't turn away a recovering girl, would you?"

King Hiroaki stared at his wife, annoyed but amused at the way she used his delicate pride against him. "Very well, she can stay." Eyes lowered, he cleared his throat. "But Yamato, I've already promised Lord Grant that you would take his daughter to be your bride."

Catherine squealed again, but this time in delight as Queen Natsuko inhaled sharply and Yamato's eyes flashed with fury.

"That, father, is most certainly not of my doing." Prince Yamato stalked to the large mahogany doors. "I'd rather marry a cow."

The door closed behind him in crashing force.

Screams ensued.

AN: Oh my lord, I am so sorry for not updating sooner. You all have my sincerest apologies. Though it's no excuse, this chapter gave me a terrible migraine and severe writer's block. I just had no idea what to do with the two, but I'm glad it's finally over! Things should go much more smoothly now. ;)

Thanks for being patient with me.

I forgot to mention, since this chapter was written at practically two separate times with such a large interval between, there might be a great difference between the beginning of the chapter and the end. Feel free to give me suggestions!