Disclaimer: I don't own Sengoku Basara. However, the reluctant heroine of this piece, Ichijou Akoya (now Date Akoya), is mine.
A/N: Wedding night. This was a pain in the BUTT to write...showing the difference between physical perception and emotional reaction, from two different perspectives.
A low click signalling the doors of her room being slid into place brought Akoya out of her musings. Her husband was reflected in the mirror, approaching her with something in his hand. Visions of swords and knives crossed her mind, and she turned to look at him properly.
And blinked.
My eyes must be deceiving me.
She blinked again, keeping her eyes closed for a moment before refocusing.
This can't be right...
Where was the warrior she had married? The man in flashy black-and-gold armour and face-obscuring helmet? Where was his strange blue suit? The bat-winged sword holders fixed to his hips? Where was all the energy she had sensed within him, snapping and crackling as though he was forever waiting to pounce on something?
Dazed, Akoya took in the sight of the young man confronting her now. Dressed in blue hakama and white haori, brown hair framing his face in sharp strands, he looked nothing like the warrior who had greeted her earlier. That man had carried a scent of leather and metal, wrapped in thick battle gear that made it impossible to make out much of his real form. This one appeared clean and well-formed, with strongly attractive features and a sharp blue eye that eyed her shamelessly.
So this is what mother meant by young and healthy. Akoya had to acknowledge that her husband was good-looking enough to turn any woman's head. But that eye...how is he fit to do battle, to lead a region when he's half-blind? She repressed a shiver of vague disgust, not at the physical deformity – there wasn't much of it to see – but at the unworthiness it implied.
And then, with a flash of terrified revulsion, she recalled what he was here for.
Damn, Kojuurou was right.
Masamune hadn't been sure what to expect on the way to his wife's room, but it definitely wasn't this.
"Well, well," he murmured, vision skating over her appreciatively, "what a difference a scrub-down can make...turned a dumpling into a woman."
She wasn't precisely his type – he preferred curvaceous, flirtatious women who knew how to sass their way around a man, but there was nothing displeasing about his average-height, slim, dark-haired wife. Kojuurou was going to get it later for exaggerating the physical perfection of Ichijou girls, of course – the woman couldn't be called beautiful – she lacked the vivacity which could turn a woman into a beauty. But she was pretty enough for him and he found himself looking forward to consummating his marriage.
It was something he was thankful for – he had never wanted to have a wife with whom sex would be just another duty to fulfill, especially as he wasn't sure he wanted to resort to concubines for physical gratification. His sense of fairness would dictate that he let his wife have lovers of her choice as well in that case, and that just wouldn't be practical unless he wanted cuckoos in his nest.
She was growing aware of his gaze and stiffening again, he noticed. A slight jolt of pity hit him, but he brushed it off. Kojuurou had warned him that virgin brides tended to be skittish on the wedding night, fearing pain and a rough hand. Masamune understood the vulnerability an untutored woman would feel, but this had to happen sooner or later. It would be his job to seduce her fears away and turn her receptive to his touch, then.
Perhaps I'll start with a kiss.
Review, please! And tell me how you felt about the whole thing!