A Thousand and One Nights
Story Two Hundred and Sixty- Letters to Those Far Gone
Kagome dabbed the horse hair blush into the thick creams before placing it lightly on the canvas. The yellow smear made the painting look like bile. She sighed before tilting her head and resuming her work on the visage of the smiling servant girl Kagome had stolen for her daily art lessons.
"For heavens sake, this is impossible. I am so sorry Goi, it seems my nimble fingers are just not made for crafting faces. It seems like your visage looks particularly similar to a cat," She smiled and handed the politely smiling woman the painting before dismissing her with a tilt of her head.
After everyone had left the room, Kagome moved to he bed and collapsed onto the quilts. Sesshomaru was on deployment with the mountain men and with letters few and far between, she worried for his health.
Even she could see the irony in this.
With a tired huff, she moved to the thick writing table shoved into the corner of her room. When she had inquired after one, the woodworkers had crafted a small legged monstrosity that was fit only for powders and tints. She'd haggled a vender to sell her a carved desk only after promising it would be put to good use.
Kagome slipped a small scroll from its place in the pile and unrolled it to show blank parchment. She didn't know just how to start a letter to the war front. She could only imagine what those men were going thought. She huffed again and looked out the windows to the bright sun drifting lazily across the sky and before she could realize, sinking under the horizon.
The paper looked even more challenging after meeting it head on for the better part of an hour. Kagome knew she needed her sleep but she could never seem to catch the sandman when she sank into these melancholy thoughts.
She leaned back in her chair before groaning in a very unladylike manner. With a reluctant sigh, she blew out her candles and moved to her bed only stopping to glance out to the war front. It was invisible to her, hundreds of miles separated them, but if she strained her eyes, she imagined she might be able to see the lazy twirling smoke from their campfires, a gift to let the remaining loved ones know that those they held dear were still fighting for their protection.
Like she said, melancholy thoughts.
After climbing into bed and rolling around under the covers for a better part of the night, Kagome resolved to remain still, hoping to fool the sandman into giving her rest. Just when her eyes started the flutter close, the door to her room opened almost silently on oiled hinges. Kagome refused to move, if they wanted her attentions, they could wait until morning.
It was only when the thin yard of fabric was lashed around her neck and she was dragged from her bed did the thought cross her mind that this could be something more than routine. The man, it had to be a man by the strength he held her with, pulled up and made her tightened airways close farther.
Her hands flew up to her neck on instinct and her room was filled with sick chocking nosies. Her fingers dug into the fabric and she pulled with her nails. The cry that was torn from her mouth was loud and horrid sounding. Her hand flew out and landed on her bedside table.
The pins and jewels tumbled to the floor in her haste to grab something, anything. Her nails left groves in the soft wood but latched onto the thin hair pin that she promptly drug into the man's meaty thigh. He let up enough that Kagome slipped out, dropping to the floor and rolling away. She dry heaved and wiped away the splatter of crimson blood on her cheek. The man was cursing in a thick mother tongue. She could feel her anger bubbling up and with a shout, she brought her foot up to the man's knee.
He hissed and fell, his hands holding the bloody pin. He ripped it free and flipped it in his hands. He watched her with keen eyes masked by wild hair and grimy clothes. Kagome acted first.
She raced to her vanity, the man at her heels. She grabbed the dagger taped to the under side the moment he got a grip on her hair. He yanked and she screamed, flying backwards to smack into the thick wood of the bed frame. The knife came free and she was running forward.
With only a babble to defend himself, he stood little chance. She sliced at his wrist and then aimed the blunt end of the knife into his neck. He grunted and fell. She stood over him and watched as he muttered words. Thick and guttural, the vowels were harsh and drawn out and made a shiver go down her spine.
He made to stand again but the blade to his throat was more than a little intimidating. Kagome huffed. Her hair was wild around her face and she imagined she looked just as harsh as the man on the floor. Her voice cracked when she called for the guards.
The man was yanked from the floor and tossed into a cell to rot away until Sesshomaru got word of him. Kagome wondered if he would last the fortnight.
The handmaidens tittered about the disarray of the room and horrifying look of their Lady. Already, Kagome could feel a bruise forming under her skin, blossoming just under her ribs. The women set out fresh candles and clothes, passing sly smiles under their work.
Kagome could only imagine what they thought that man was doing in her room at such a late hour. The women of the Palace were insatiable gossips not to forget the guards who could pass stories faster than any woman.
Kagome sent them away with a wave of her hand. It was only when the doors closed with subtle bang did she allow the tears to fall into her bloodied sleeping gown. Her knuckles were red and torn from falling to the floor and she could only look down on them as a physical representation of the blood on her hands.
She ran crimson fingers through tangled hair and rubbed her rudy cheeks until the only sign that she had been crying was a slight redness to her eyes. With swift effectiveness, she scrubbed her body down with a fresh bowl of water and towel wishing desperately for a bath. She dressed herself in finery and slipped her feet into dainty shoes. With a throat clearing, the doors were open and she was escorted by skittish guards to the dais.
The throne room was a mass of moving bodies. Vey few children were present, most wanting to stay home with their siblings for fear of being lost. Kagome moved through her subjects. A confident few reached out brush the fine cloth she wore.
When Kagome reached her throne, she forwent the glorified chair and addressed her people. They fell silent as she raised a hand. They could sense the tension in the Palace, the humming of the guards and maids that lined the outer crowd. Rin yawned in the arms of a nanny.
"Tonight there was an attempt on my life," The crowd flew into an outrage, calling for a public burning and execution. With a slight frown, she again raised her hand and watched as they fell silent. "We are lead to believe it was the mountain men testing your new Lady."
"You want this man to be killed, barbarically and horrifically?" She asked, raising her voice to match the crashing fever pitch of the enraged masses. They screamed enthusiastically. "Then what separates us from them? What do we have that they lack if not our civility and honor?!"
The crowd fell silent, their battle cries dying off.
"It is true, what they did was underhanded and undignified but this is the chance we needed, to show those monstrous men just what makes us better!" They joined her rally cry, sounding off in yips and muffled sounds of agreement. "We have to do our part, we need to ration, just as our warriors are, make blankets for the abandoned and clothes for the poor. We need to show them that we are more than warmongers! That we are families and loved ones, rich and poor, we stand as one!"
Men not old enough to enlist raised their fists and she watched as women, children, old men and even the wounded, showed solidarity. From the back came a cry.
"Prosper, our Lady!" Kagome was shocked with awe as everyone picked up the chant, a wave of support. She shoved her fist into the air and they broke into whoops and cheers.
()()()
Dear Sesshomaru,
As you have surly been informed, I have been the recipient of an attack on my life.
Do not worry, I gave as well as received and my attacker is now in the care of the most diligent, if not enraged, Palace guards.
As I know you worry, I will only say that it has been handled and that your warriors will soon be receiving more rations, blankets, and clothes for themselves and the fleeing immigrants of attacked provinces. I believe I have done you a great service and in payment, would love the yellow powder you brought back last time. The tint was lovely and I seem to have wasted it on a silly painting of flowers. Rin loves it nonetheless.
It has also come to my attention that I have neglected our nightly stories and as such, have taken the time to send you a few each night until you have had your fill.
Sleep well,
Kagome
()()()
Kagome attached the bursting scroll to her falcon and watched as the poor creature lugged the scroll into the rising sun. She smiled and moved back to her desk, dipping her worn quill back into the inkwell and starting another story, this one with a man cursed to run a million miles to see his love again. She signed each page and moved on, crafting tale after tale after tale on scroll after scroll after scroll.
She had stories to share.
A/N: Don't hate me.