A/N: The word 'poncho' will be used. If you think it wouldn't fit in this . . . sorry, I just wasn't ingenious enough to come up with a good name.

Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce's. Not mine.

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He kissed her forehead then moved to each of her cheeks planting warm kisses there, too. His lips came dangerously close to her own and she braced herself for the feel of it, but it never came. He was close . . . so close she wanted to scream with frustration.

"I love you; remember that." She wasn't sure what made her tingle more, his lips just barely brushing her own it felt like feathers or his warm breath washing over her. Then finally he moved and she anticipated his kiss. He was almost there--

—until the boat rocked and Arra's eyes snapped open. She remembered she wasn't back in Tortall saying goodbye to Liam anymore—had it really been days ago or had the days already turned to weeks?--and sighed. And the dream had been getting good too. Arra stood from the mildly comfortable bed in the cabin she'd been given for the ride and walked outside. Cobalt was there too though she hadn't dared to put him in a cage. Instead he sat atop the boat.

The sky looked like one large inky mass specked with stars. She stepped out further and leaned on the edge of the boat. The water looked as dark as the sky and was only set off by the peaks of white that came up every now and then on the waves.

The heavy footsteps of hard boots and a clank sounded behind her. Suddenly, Arra felt a slap across her behind with something hard, not a hand. A voice followed soon after, "A Princess shouldn't slouch."

She had jerked up and spun around at the slap. The person behind her wasn't tall for a man, but he wasn't exactly short either. He owned long light red hair pulled back into a horse tail. His face looked boyish and somehow his eyes were a hard blue. Mirth seemed tucked in at his lips as if they itched to be brought up into a smile. Despite his young looking face faint lines of crow's feet sprung out from too many laughs. And yet those eyes . . .they didn't fit. He leaned on his unsheathed longsword. Arra's eyes narrowed. She had of course noticed he spoke in Karucian and spoke with the same dialect. "And you know how to use that sword?"

"Of course."

"Well then you'd know not to try it on me unless you want a fight." Arra said as lightly as she could.

The man laughed a good humor. "I couldn't fight a woman and at that a princess."

Arra flicked a glance at the sword he leaned on before she moved. She kicked the sword near the bottom in a low sideways crouch levering it just right. She came underneath his arm when he lost his balance and jabbed her elbow into the joint of his armpit; she twisted the sword from his grasp and spun to slide it into place, right at his throat.

"I wasn't raised as a princess remember that." She said and backed away handing him his sword which he immediately resheathed.

Once again his smile returned. "It is always nice and refreshing to see a woman who can fight, especially one as beautiful as yourself."

Arra didn't blush, only gave him a sideways glance before turning back to the seemingly endless pools of darkness.

"I'm Andy—Andrew but I never really liked it so I do my best with what I've got." He smiled once again.

"I"m--"

"I know, Princess Semarra."

She scrunched her nose. "I don't walk around telling people to call me 'Semarra' though, I go by Arra."

"And not a whit less fitting for a beautiful woman."

Arra just sighed. She hadn't known then that he wouldn't be the only one to say such words to her or that he'd be the only true friend for a time. No, she just looked out not knowing that the respect of the man next to her had already grown.

xXx

The man looked out over vast stretching of land. He was past middle-aged but all he had to show for it were fine silver hairs streaking every other dark curl atop his head and some sprinkled through his mustache. He owned a pair of dark blue eyes. He exhaled for no reason in particular and turned away from the window.

King Emereth had never really let go of hope that he'd find his daughter. He had promised that if he ever caught even a slight breeze of her existence he would tear trees from the very ground with bare hands before he gave up. And when he'd heard that she was in Tortall . . . yes, sending his war troops might have been a bit much but she had been worth it. It seemed far more surreal when Feran sent word that they had in fact found her—he'd see soon enough.

It still angered him a bit to think of everything that had brought this. It angered him that the horrid maid—Marina had it been?--had taken her in the first place. Law required that when they found her she be killed for her acts. His anger had fired forward again not when the male servant had told him of his daughter in Tortall, but that his own son had known.

And then Emereth would beat himself up over not remembering that this particular Gift called to Gift. How could he have forgotten? It was part of family history, learning the aspects of the Gift being just as important as learning about the family, more so even. His son had known! He could still see the almost bored look in his eyes when he flung the information that she'd been in Corus for a while at him carelessly.

The boy, had he always been like that?

He loved him if only because he was his son but . . . he hardly understood the boy. And then there was his twin, she seemed easier to understand. She looked and acted exactly like one would expect a princess to—dangerously proud, enjoying men's looks, and a seeming empty space where thoughts should be.

And yet his—he was tempted to say 'real'--first daughter was really returning.

Emereth had given orders not to provide her with beautiful silk clothing, or rain her with priceless jewels. No, he wanted to see her. This was what he was most curious about. How would she look? The most recent picture of her face in his memory was when she was four a time when children tended to look all the same since they hadn't yet grown into unique looks. But of course he remembered her having dark curls like his and crystal blue eyes from her mother.

He turned his thoughts away from her mother, his long dead wife. He thought he'd be able to be angry with his daughter, because she'd left or been taken and Iolana had died, but he couldn't do it.

He brought back his thoughts to Semarra—Arra he remembered she had liked to be called, did she still? Or had she taken a completely different name?

The King's look returned to the window. He'd forgotten how many days in all they'd already been on the ocean. It didn't matter, he'd already been informed they should arrive sometime this evening. Emereth looked around the expansive study lined with bookshelves. The whole room was decorated with green. It wasn't drenched in green but the color was clearly portrayed.

The walls were a rich green delicately bordered in gold. The bookshelves were make from a light colored wood that was closely related to the gold color. The chairs were green and gold too, gold diamond shapes over the green color.

He loved the room because Iolana had.

Emereth didn't know how long he sat there reminiscing (long lost children tend to have that kind of effect) but it must have been a long time because an older male servant came in.

He bowed then said as way of explanation, "I knocked, Majesty, and you didn't answer so I entered," Emereth nodded for him to continue. "The Princess Semarra will be here in a short while."

Emereth stood immediately, unconsciously dusting off his clothes. He wasn't sure why but he felt he had to impress this girl—woman, he reminded himself. She'd be a young woman by now.

He walked down to the large room they'd be receiving her in. His present wife, Adelle, waited there wearing a white under dress and green over-vest to match her eyes with their two children waiting also clothed in finery. Emereth did not want to sit on some grand throne to meet her. He wanted this to go easily and some people might find it uncomfortable to have to walk all the way up to the front of the room. So they stood and waited.

The great doors opened.

The soldiers in red, black and silver walked in first before fanning out and revealing the princess. Emereth's eyes were locked on her.

The thing he noticed first and foremost was that she walked sure-footed and with what he could best describe as perfect balance. Her hair, still dark as it had ever been though sun-streaked, had grown out of its childhood curls into waves. Her clothes looked comfortable consisting of simple breeches and cotton shirt. Her range of sight encompassed them all and her look was calculating then he noticed her eyes. Crystal blue, Iolana's eyes. She had the same looks too. She stopped and he realized she stood before them now. Her height wasn't challenging in the least and he remembered Iolana had not been very tall either.

Yes, this had to be his daughter. It had to be unless it was just a cruel trick of the gods that she look so alike to his beloved Iolana.

xXx

Arra, with the same kind of resolution as she had back in Tortall, stood straight and walked calmly noticing the examining eyes. Her boots padded softly against the tiled floor. She wished she had, in the very least, Cobalt's weight on her arm but there had been very little he'd wanted to eat aboard the ship so she let him loose.

The man, her father she guessed, studied her intensely. He jerked then hesitated but a part of him won over the other because he maneuvered around his children and brought Arra into an embrace. She realized that he was greeting her like a father not a king and relaxed patting his back.

She felt something wet soak through her hair and realized he was crying and saying: "Oh, my daughter!"

"Father," Saying it didn't seem odd. She remembered calling him that when she had been younger, "I know it took me a while to return to you."

He pulled out of the embrace and laughed. He placed his hands on either side of her face still smiling, "That it did."

Someone cleared their throat, "Hm?" Her father asked. It had been the young boy. "Oh yes! This is my son Zedar, my daughter Zefra, and my wife Adelle."

All three, she noticed, owned somewhat of the same thin face.

Zedar had dirty blond hair and he owned piercing green orbs behind bored, half lidded eyes. He had one silver stud in his ear and one in his nose. His sister, Zefra, had darker blond hair and murkier, almost clouded, green eyes. The two shared some of the same features like the same razor nose, and also the same lips with the lower one just a bit more full than the one above. Oddly enough it worked for each of them and didn't take away from their good looks.

Adelle's hair was pinned up but some of it fell down in soft red curls. The pins had small shimmering jewels on them that matched the ones dangling from each of her ears. She had a kind face and emerald green eyes. Her pale skin didn't look sickly but she did have a frail look about her. Adelle put a hand on each of her child's shoulders and smiled.

Arra studied the clothing. It had changed, as fashions do, from the glimpse shed seen of it in the vision Fate had given her before. Adelle wore a white under dress with flaring sleeves that at first glance would seem simple enough until one noticed the intricacies worked in with white stitching to match the cloth. The thicker green over-vest was of the same kind of seeming simplicity that was bordered in a white braid that circled around the bottom hem came up and around the neckline.

The daughter, Zefra, wore much the same thing though in different colors. More blinding colors. Arra thought as she eyed the bright magenta under dress and blue over-vest. The bright contrast hurt her eyes to look at for too long. I hope she isn't a trend setter for color scheme. The over-vest of each was not held by a clasp but a leather band as wide as the space across Arra's palm. It was held together by three very small clasps.

Zedar wore more eye-friendly colors, loose dark green breeches (the loose breeches being the style of Karucia), aqua-blue undershirt with and with something that looked like a large piece of cloth with a hole for the head in the same dark green. They were much like tunics only often made out of thicker material and went just a bit wider on the shoulders.What were they called? Oh yes, a poncho. The end of the poncho ended right below the knee and it was tied at the waist with the same kind of leather-clasp combination.

Her father wore much the same style but his loose breeches and poncho were a deep rich brown and his undershirt was sapphire blue.

Her eyes came back to the boy, Zedar. When they did, he raised his green eyes to meet hers. There was a strong pressure in the room. Arra couldn't quite name what it was exactly. It didn't feel anything like nervousness or fear. It was more real as if she could reach out and grab it, whatever it was. Something gave and a splitting headache erupted through her skull. She gasped and clutched the pounding head, her Shang training being the only thing keeping her afoot.

"Are you all right?" Genuine concern was written on Emereth's face. She nodded and swept her gaze across the family again. Was . . . was Zedar smiling? "Perhaps you should rest. We'll have plenty of time to catch up." He smiled.

He called over a servant who showed her the way to her rooms. Each hall brought back memories though they were decorated differently. I couldn't have expected everything to stay the same after fourteen years.

The room was large and decorated in beige, white and brown. All of them perfectly neutral colors. She liked the way everything was assembled but it seemed a little too bland. There were doorways leading off of the main room that she had yet to explore.

"Is something the matter, Princess?" The servant asked noting surroundings. "Perhaps you want a different room or a change to this one?"

"Ah, would it be too much to ask?"

"Of course not."

She thought for a moment. "Would it be alright to add some . . .blue?"

"Of course, highness." She said and left.

Highness. She let out a long sigh. Her head began to pound again reminding her why she had been led to the room in the first place. She went over to the bed that jutted of the wall; to the left of it was a door. I'll look into it later, gods know I have the time. Arra crawled onto the bed and rolled up underneath the white silk covers laying her head on the chestnut brown pillows.

Her spirits sank further and further. She'd be a Princess here. She would wear dresses, have her hair done wear the face paint and learn dances. She'd have to leave her fighting behind her and become a lily-footed princess.

Arra groaned and rolled over on the bed only to be met by an old scarred, wrinkled face. She yelped in surprise.

"And here you were doing so well." Fate said.

"What do you want?" She said turning back to the other side, "I'm doing what you told me, I'm back in Karucia."

Right before her eyes Fate appeared in front of her, "Do you remember all those months ago when I said what your future would have to be compromised to? Well this isn't it," Her voice still and cracked as she remembered it, "I'm going to nip this bud right now.

"Getting you all depressed and sad won't do me or anyone else any good," One gnarled hand grabbed her face, "I never said give up who you are. You must follow the road you've chosen, even you cannot walk back the paths, only forward. That is all I have to say to you. For now anyways."

"Now your obscure in your meanings and reasons." Arra grumbled.

"I am being perfectly forward with you." She said crisply before shimmering silver and then she was gone.

Who I am. I am Shang. It is in my bones and definetly built into my muscles. That is as part of my as anything else.

x...:...x

A/N: Let's see. This chapter wasn't very long and it took me weeks to get it out, I know. I'm sorry. I just ran into some writer's block . . . horrible I know. I just took a small break so I wouldn't be trudging through writer's block and the outcome was a chapter worse than it is. I'm not completely happy with this chapter but I'm hoping is wasn't dreadful.

Please, please Review.