Did I start another story that was supposed to be a one-shot and end up with a ~30K multichapter work? ...Yes, yes I did.

This fic primarily focuses on Ichigo and Rukia, but also features Gin/Rangiku, Orihime/Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow/Tatsuki (..the author regrets nothing). This story is a fusion with the fairytale "The Twelve Dancing Princesses". Like my other works, this is being cross-posted to AO3.

Emperor Yamamoto Genryusai was blessed with twelve daughters. There was the second-oldest, Nanao, whose stern expression and studious nature often hid her charming beauty. There was Rangiku, whose strawberry-blonde hair and curvaceous form were the envy of the court. Orihime, the fourth daughter, looked much like her older sister Rangiku, although her hair was a shade darker and she was known for her shy and somewhat silly, though compassionate, nature. Isane and Kiyone, the fifth and sixth daughters, were known for their gentle natures, although Kiyone was also known for her fights with the chancellor's son.

Hinamori and Nemu were twins, although Nemu was by far the more solemn of the two. The four younger daughters were no less beautiful than their sisters. Soifon was the most aggressive – although Tatsuki, her elder by one year often gave her fierce competition. Yachiru, the second-youngest daughter, loved candy more than anything and Ururu was so shy that even Hinamori looked like a social butterfly by comparison.

Among her beautiful sisters, Rukia had never felt that she stood out, particularly. Though she was the eldest daughter of the Emperor and the Crown Princess, she was petite and somewhat unassuming. Her dark hair wasn't as lustrous as her sister Rangiku's, and her body was not nearly so curvy as some of her sisters. And she was thirty years old and still unmarried. Though in fairness, none of her sisters were married; the Emperor's exacting standards meant that his ten oldest daughters were exceedingly talented and exceedingly single.

But it was Rukia who found the trap door that led the way to the enchanted world beneath the palace.

It was an accident, really: she tripped on a loose floorboard one afternoon and, curious, pried it up. There was an older panel of wood beneath it, and Rukia pried up the other floorboards covering it, breaking three of her nails in the process. But her work revealed a rectangular panel topped with an iron ring.

"What's that?" Yachiru asked, darting closer to her older sister.

Rukia pursed her lips. "It's a trap door. I wonder where it leads," she murmured. She pulled on the ring, but the door stayed stubbornly in place.

"Let me try," Tatsuki ordered from Rukia's other side. Rukia waved a hand and stood, giving Tatsuki room. Her younger sister gave the ring several hard pulls and, on the last one, the door flew up as Tatsuki grunted with the effort.

The three sisters gathered around the opening. It was surprisingly large, and light seemed to flow up from the hole beneath, illuminating carved wooden stairs that led downwards. "Where do you think it leads?" Tatsuki asked.

"It must be storage," Rukia said uncertainly, but then the sound of music drifted up from the so-called storage space.

"Music!" Yachiru chirped, and before either of her sisters could stop her, the young girl scrambled down the stairs.

"I'll follow her, you stay here," Rukia ordered, and darted down the stairs before Tatsuki could reply.

Rukia followed her younger sister down the steps, which gradually widened and then transitioned to carved stone instead of wood. She looked up; the ceiling seemed awfully tall as she descended, following Yachiru's giggles. "This is – under the palace?" she asked with a gasp.

For the world Rukia had stepped into was a very different one than her father's home. A grove of glittering trees lay before her, and as Rukia drew closer she could see that the leaves on each tree were made of pure silver, though she did not know how such a thing was possible.

Yachiru's giggling drew her on, and Rukia walked the pathway through the grove of silver. The next grove shined warmly as she entered it, for the leaves of the trees were gold even though they grew out of the tree branches naturally. Rukia reached up to touch one, lightly, and marveled at the feel of the hard leaves.

The third grove she entered was the most spectacular of all, for the trees glittered even more brightly in the unnatural and mysterious light: they were laden with leaves of gemstones of every color. Rukia spotted emerald leaves and diamond flowers, as well as ruby and sapphire fruits. Before her, a short distance away, lay a lake, and twelve small boats lined up along the shore. Yachiru was sitting in one of the little boats, and she waved as she saw Rukia.

"Look over there!" she called as Rukia approached the boats. "There's a palace under daddy's palace!" She pointed as Rukia looked, and indeed, there was a beautiful building lit up in celebration across the lakeshore. "Let's go look at it!"

But Rukia shook her head and said, "We must report this to our father, Yachiru. Come back with me." And she held out her hand.

"Oh, don't go so soon. Don't you want to dance?" a low voice asked.

Rukia turned, suddenly. There was a man standing before her, tall and smiling kindly. His dark brown hair was elegantly brushed back and he wore an elegant white silk kimono embroidered with a geometric pattern. It looked like the kind a man might wear for dancing. "Who are you?" she asked and pulled Yachiru behind her.

He smiled. "I'm a prince, of course."

And that was how it started.

Kurosaki Ichigo was sick of fighting another man's war. At thirty years old, he was already a veteran soldier. He'd killed and nearly died for his country. As thanks, he'd been mustered out with the wounded and left to make his way home on foot. Unfortunately, he'd last been home over twelve years ago. He didn't even know if his father and younger sisters still lived in the capital.

He trudged through lands both bountiful and famine-stricken. The savings from his share of his pay dwindled, and he began taking odd jobs to earn enough to feed himself. Over time, he began to hear a rumor: that the emperor was having problems with his daughters. At first it was just a whisper that some of the young women were being rebellious. As Ichigo drew closer to the capital, the rumors grew more frequent and eventually became fact.

Emperor Yamamoto was offering a princely reward and the hand of one of his daughters to the man who could solve his princess problem. Each night his daughters went – somewhere. And each morning their expensive dancing shoes were found worn through and ruined. His daughters were exhausted, falling asleep in their breakfast. And the women refused to explain what was happening to their slippers or why they were so tired. There was just one catch: the Emperor was growing so enraged by the lack of progress that he was giving each man only three nights to figure out what was going on. And when they didn't, he had them beheaded.

Desperate for work or not, Ichigo wanted nothing to do with that. But when an old woman in a village not far from the main road to the capital asked where he was going, Ichigo said, "I hardly know where I am going, but I am looking for work."

And the woman said to him, "If you will harvest my rice for me, I will pay you for it."

That seemed agreeable enough to Ichigo, and he spent three days in the lands behind the village doing as the old woman asked. At the end of the three days, she handed him more coins than he really thought was fair, and a handsome cloak besides. "You might try your hand at solving the Emperor's princess problem," she suggested.

Ichigo just scowled and shook his head. "They say the Emperor is killing any man who doesn't solve the mystery. I'd rather be poor than lose my head," he told her.

The old woman patted his hand. "The trick is to avoid drinking anything that the princesses give you. And you'll find that cloak will hide you from prying eyes. But good luck to you, whatever you pursue, Kurosaki Ichigo," she replied, and sent him on his way.

Ichigo entered the capital city a few days later and walked to the palace. But rather than presenting himself to the Emperor, he went instead to the guards' barracks and was directed to the sergeant at arms, a tall, redheaded man with abundant tattoos.

"I am a veteran of the border war," he explained. "And I am seeking work as a guard."

The redhead looked him up and down, nodding briefly. "Could always use another guard," he said agreeably enough. "Show me your skills with a sword, stranger, and I'll see if there's a job for you."

Ichigo set down his pack and removed his cloak. Then he unbuckled his belt and set it, and his sheathed daito, upon his cloak. At the sergeant at arms' gesture he followed the taller man into a salle, and they selected practice swords – pot metal with dull edges – for their bout.

Although Ichigo had not lifted a sword in weeks he had lost little of his edge. The two men battled across the packed dirt of the salle, trading blows first slowly and then more quickly. Soon a small audience had gathered, and when Ichigo's blade found the sergeant's neck and touched, ever so lightly, a light smattering of applause filled the area.

"You're hired," the redhead told him. "Haven't had a good bout like that in a month." He didn't seem angry that Ichigo had beat him – which was something of a relief, as Ichigo was down to his last few coins. "Name's Sergeant Abarai Renji."

"Kurosaki Ichigo." They shook hands and left the salle.

Ichigo glanced at the audience they'd drawn and dismissed them in the same breath until his amber eyes met a pair the color of violets. He stopped dead, staring at the girl – no, woman – who was leaning against the fence. She was petite, at least a head shorter than he was, and she wore a plum-colored kimono embroidered with white flowers, which seemed awfully fancy for watching a spar. Her night-dark hair hung down her back freely and a simple coronet graced her brow. The look in her eyes was haunting: beautiful but ineffably sad. And there were shadows beneath them, as if she was exhausted.

"Oi, Kurosaki. You still want that job?" Renji called, and Ichigo shook himself, hurrying after his new boss.

"Who's the woman in purple?" he asked when he caught up.

Renji scowled. "That's the crown princess," he said, and glanced at Ichigo. "Put her out of your head. Only way you're getting near her is if you agree to the Emperor's trial. And that'd be a waste of your life."

"So the Emperor does have the men killed for their failure," Ichigo said quietly.

"Hn. My men have dug fifty graves," Renji confirmed. "It's been going on nearly a year."

Ichigo shuddered, and resolved not to think about the crown princess, or the Emperor's predicament, any further.

That worked for a time, as Ichigo signed on formally as a guard and made his new 'home' in the barracks. He received new uniforms and three meals a day, as well as enough pay in coin that he could begin to save for some nebulous future.

The first body he buried was that of an old man, and though it was sad, Ichigo told himself that the men knew going in that they were risking their lives. He didn't draw the short straw and get assigned burial duty again for another three weeks.

"You, guard," was the first thing the crown princess said to him as Ichigo was walking back toward the barracks after a training session with some of the younger guards. Renji had recognized his skills as a veteran soldier and quickly put him to work training the greenhorns – boys barely free of their mothers' apron strings who barely knew which end of a sword they should wield.

"Your highness," he responded, and bowed to her.

"I require an escort into the city. You will provide it to me," she ordered. There was a large bag slung over one arm.

Ichigo blinked at her. "Ah – are you permitted to go into the city, highness?" he asked cautiously. He didn't want his head on the chopping block because a princess wanted to sneak out.

The woman sniffed contemptuously. "Of course. My father is concerned with my clothing budget, not my person."

Ichigo scowled. That sounded unlikely to him – but she was the princess, after all. So he just nodded to her. "Let me change and retrieve my sword, highness."

"Be quick," she ordered.

Ichigo frowned at how terse her words were, but he nodded and walked into the building. He was back in a few minutes wearing a fresh black kimono and hakama, as well as the dark green jinbaori of his guard's uniform. His sword, Zangetsu, was strapped to his waist. The embroidery on his jinbaori showed that he was a member of the guard and permitted to walk through the city without a peace knot on his blade.

"Good. Try to keep up," she said, and hurried toward the palace gates. Ichigo's far longer legs caught up to her quickly and he glanced down at her.

"I wouldn't be a very good guard if I let you lose me," he pointed out. She just shrugged and walked through the open gates with him following a step behind.

For her excursion into the city she'd dressed far more casually than she had done the first time he saw her: the woman's kimono was long and black, with modest lavender embroidery along the cuffs and neckline. The obi wrapped around her waist was lavender-hued was well but plain, and so was the obijime holding it around her waist. Her hair was pulled into a simple bun, and she wore no jewelry, not even the coronet. Ichigo supposed that made sense: she was far less conspicuous this way, and theoretically easier to protect.

He kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might wish to harm her, but the woman seemed totally unconcerned. He followed her along paved streets through the nobles' quarter, where oversized townhomes held the richest citizens of the empire. They turned through the shopping district, which the princess ignored, and then toward one of the poorer sections of town.

"Ah – your…"

"Rukia," she said, and stopped so abruptly that he nearly ran into her. "My name is Rukia."

Ichigo cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced around them. Here, the houses were more run-down. Cracks ran through painted walls, the road was developing its own cracks through uneven cobblestones, and one or two of the buildings looked like they should be condemned. "This place looks…a little dangerous."

Rukia just sniffed and waved a hand at him imperiously. "It is safe enough." She turned left abruptly and walked up a narrow path to a large house with white plaster walls.

Ichigo followed, one hand on the hilt of his sword suspiciously, but when the door opened his jaw dropped open.

"Rukia, you're here! The children will be so pleased, they were starting to get worried after all the rumors started," a young woman in a simple blue kimono explained. Her light brown hair was pulled into a loose bun and a few tendrils were escaping their binding. She looked up, past the princess, and stared. "Ichigo?"

He took a slow step forward as Rukia looked at him curiously. "Do you know this woman?" she asked.

"Yuzu?" he asked, and the young woman in front of him beamed. Ichigo's feet took him the few steps to the doorway and he grabbed her in a tight hug. Her arms came up around his waist as they held one another tightly. After a long moment Ichigo pulled away, and he turned to look at Rukia.

There was a strange expression on the princess' face; it almost looked like jealousy – which was such a ridiculous thought that Ichigo pushed it from his head immediately. "Yuzu is my younger sister," he explained. "I haven't seen my family since I was sent to the front over twelve years ago."

Rukia's expression softened immediately, and her lips curved into a smile that sent a sudden frisson through Ichigo's body. "I hadn't realized I was arranging a family reunion," she said.

He couldn't help his echoing smile. But then he looked around again: at Yuzu, then at the large house. "What is this place? Do you live here? Where are Karin and Dad?"

Yuzu smiled gently. "Karin and Dad are probably at home. This is a home for orphans, and I work here," she explained. "Cr—Rukia brings gifts and clothes for the children from time to time."

The woman in question pulled the large bag from her shoulder and offered it to Yuzu. "Ururu's grown out of her kimonos again, and Yachiru's shoes are too tight," Rukia said as Yuzu took the bag from her.

"Thank you, Rukia!" Yuzu said and beamed at her. "Please thank them for me. The shoes especially are helpful, we're always short of those. Oh! Would you like to come in? The children love your visits."

But Rukia turned away, a smile on her face. "Perhaps next time, Yuzu. I'd better be heading back."

Ichigo ruffled Yuzu's hair lightly, and smirked when she pouted at him. "Are you still living by the merchants' quarter?" he asked. "I'll come visit when I can get a day off."

"Aa. No, we've moved much closer to the canal, in the short blue house. Come visit soon, Ichigo. We've missed you." Yuzu snuck another hug before Ichigo followed Rukia.

When he caught up to her, the petite princess was walking swiftly back to the palace using the same route they'd taken to get to the orphanage. "Thank you," he said quietly when his strides were matching hers.

"For what?" Her violet eyes looked up at him, and Ichigo tamped down the odd feeling that curled inside of him.

"If you hadn't needed an escort today, I wouldn't have seen my sister," Ichigo explained. "I couldn't find my family in the merchants' quarter and their neighbors didn't know where they'd gone."

A delicate smile curved the princess' lips, but she said nothing. They walked in silence for a time, through the bustling streets of the markets and then a quieter, residential area.

He sensed it before he heard it; the sound of an errant pebble kicked by a shoe and the shuffling of bodies to get closer to them. Ichigo straightened and his hand found the hilt of Zangetsu. "Rukia," he said very quietly, and the princess straightened up.

"I know," she said, and though it startled him that she had noticed they were being followed, Ichigo pushed that aside in favor of falling one step behind her. The steps grew louder, and he turned.

There were three thugs behind him: better dressed than he expected and wearing swords that weren't peace-bound. "What do you want?" Ichigo asked and looked them up and down.

"Hn. Just whatever money's in your pockets. And her, of course," the tallest one said. His movements were surprisingly lithe as he stepped closer. He wore no jinbaori, but his dark gray monpe and kimono were in good repair and fit him well.

Rukia snorted beside him but said nothing.

"Che. Don't be ridiculous," Ichigo said, and tightened his grip on his sword. "You haven't done anything you'll regret yet – better leave before you do."

"One man against three," the tallest one drawled again. He had dishwater blond hair and a sneer on his face. "And you're old."

This time it was Ichigo who snorted, and he drew Zangetsu. "Don't be stupid," he warned, and angled his body so that Rukia was behind him.

The princess had her own ideas, however: a small steel throwing dagger appeared in her hands and she glanced up at him. "I can hit him from here," she suggested.

The idea of the princess fighting was a shock. She was so tiny, after all. But Ichigo wasn't about to question having an ally, armed and hopefully deadly, at his back. "That takes skill," he acknowledged.

"I'm quite good," Rukia agreed.

The thugs were staring at them. "Hey. Didn't you hear what I said? What are you going to do with that little needle, midget?"

Ichigo winced; he could feel Rukia's irritation radiating off of her. "Please don't throw that just yet," he requested. "Sergeant Abarai told me there's less paperwork if someone else attacks first." He raised his voice and said, "This isn't going to end the way you think it will."

But the lead thug just gestured and the other two closed in, circling Rukia and Ichigo. The soldier turned guard rolled his eyes and shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. The one closest to him unsheathed a short sword, and it was much poorer quality than he expected: no more than pot metal, like the dull blades that the newest recruits used for training.

It was the thug on Rukia's side who attacked first, however, with a long dagger that aimed for Ichigo first. He brought up his blade to block, and shoved the man out of the way with the flat of his sword. A dagger – even a long one – was no match for Zangetsu, and in three blows Ichigo had him on the ground clutching a gut wound.

The second thug came at him with his short sword, and Ichigo exchanged several blows with him. He was a better fighter than the first, but he was a squat man whose arms strained as Ichigo's blade met his. "You should take your friend and go," he advised. "You might be able to save him."

"Fuck you," was the only reply he got, and Ichigo scoffed. His blade swung again, and this time when it hit the inferior blade the week steel sheared in half, leaving his enemy gaping at the hilt and six inches of jagged metal in his hand. Ichigo's next slash caught the man in the chest, and he staggered back and fell, blood darkening his tunic. He turned and spotted the third attacker lunging for him, but he stopped, suddenly, and a breath huffed out of him. He fell as Ichigo watched, Rukia's dagger in his back.

Ichigo lowered his blade a fraction. "Well done, your highness." He pulled the dagger from the man's back and wiped the blood off on his tunic, then rolled the man over. "You still alive?" he asked, but there was no response. Ichigo offered the dagger back to Rukia hilt first. "We need to get back to the palace and report this," he said to her.

Their fingers brushed as Rukia took the dagger from his, and another frisson worked its way up his spine. But Rukia looked peaky all of a sudden, and she staggered back from the man she'd stabbed.

"Alright, alright," Ichigo said, and though she was a princess, he stepped closer to her and got his hand beneath her forearm. "Deep breaths, princess. You're fine."

She pulled her arm from his grasp and stumbled away, only to retch onto the exquisite lawn of the nearest townhome. Ichigo hurriedly sheathed his blade, caught up with her easily and held her hair back from her head with one hand as she gagged, while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back. When she was done, he helped her straighten up and wordlessly handed her a clean cloth from his pocket. "Wipe your forehead and mouth," he advised gently.

Rukia did as he told her. "I – I haven't actually killed anyone before," she managed, and Ichigo just nodded.

"I figured. We should get back to the palace – I need to report this." He eyed her carefully and ordered, "Take another deep breath."

She did that, too, and then shook herself. It was as if a veil fell over her eyes, and Rukia straightened to her full – though still petite – height. "Thank you, Ichigo," she said. "I'm fine now."

Ichigo scowled – she didn't look fine – but he nodded briefly. "Good." When she started walking back toward the palace he followed, and if she noticed that he used his body to block the sight of the man she'd stabbed, Rukia didn't say anything.

When they reached the side gate, Ichigo held the small iron barrier open for her. "I'll speak with Sergeant Abarai." As Rukia nodded and began to hurry away, he added, "Thank you, Rukia."

The words stopped her. Her violet eyes met his, and they looked at one another for a long moment before Rukia turned away again.

Ichigo sighed and went off to find his boss. And that was how that began.