Title: Child of Unrequited Love [1/1]
Fandom: SORA WA AKAI KAWA NO HOTORI
Rating: PG
Author: Corbeau Noir
Email: noir_corbeau@hotmail.com
Site: http://www.geocities.com/corbeaun

Disclaimer:
      All rights and privileges to SORA WA AKAI KAWA NO HOTORI 
and its characters belong to Shinohara Chie, and the 
distributors of her work. The characters of this series are used 
without permission for the purpose of entertainment only, and is 
not meant for sale or profit.

Summary:
      A story that takes place just prior to Queen Nakia setting 
into motion the whole fiasco with Mursili and the illegitimate 
child.

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                 Child Of Unrequited Love
                      by Corbeau Noir


                        * * *


      With a patience born from years of practice, she stands 
still as the servants fuss with the last finishing touches of 
her appearance. The midday sun is peeking into the room from an 
open window, its light catching at the glittering jewels her 
father insisted she wear for this occasion. As a servant inserts 
yet another jewel-incrusted head ornament into her hair, she 
muffles an exasperated sigh into the hem of her gold-embroidered 
robe.

      Even in the relatively cool confines of her room, the 
dress is beginning to feel stifling. She hates to think how it 
will feel to wear the garment and all its numerous accompanying 
accessories under the scorching midday sun. Unfortunately 
however, there is no help for it.

      For today she is going to the palace to answer the summons 
of Queen Nakia... And perhaps, just perhaps, see *him* again.

      But then she pauses.

	Does she want to see him? She heard the rumors... Saw for 
herself the newest girl from whose side he never seems to leave. 
And even if there are no concubine to worry about, she cannot 
get out of her head that last disastrous night between the two 
of them. She could remember every last devastating detail to the 
second.

      Even if it is nearly two years ago.

      "Mama! Mama!"
	
      The sound of her son's voice comes as a balm on her aching 
heart, and she laughs as she catches the rambunctious six-
months-old child in her arms, ignoring the disapproving clucks 
of her handmaidens as the boy musses up her arduously arranged 
toilette.

      "Now, now, little prince, be a good boy. Mama needs to go 
somewhere for a while, so listen to Nanny," she tells him, 
stroking his soft baby hair.

      He could easily pass as his son, she thinks wistfully, and 
at times she has a hard time remembering he is not, especially 
when everyone else seems to think so.

      Absently, she brushes a few leaves and twigs from his 
unruly curls.

      Immediately her son looks up at her, the beginnings of a 
frown on his face, his large amber eyes fixing on hers with an 
intensity that is startling for a child of his age. And he opens 
his mouth to ask:

      "Why?"

      The unexpected question catches her off-guard, and for a 
moment she is thrown two years back... Back to when another
pair of amber eyes looked upon her with an even greater 
intensity, asking a similar question.


-----------------------------
[Two years ago]


      It was weeks since she last saw him, months since he last 
visited her bedchamber. The only comfort she'd held, as she lay 
cold and alone in her bed, was that neither did he visit any of 
his other various lovers. Palace rumor had it that he was 
occupied with the king's business. And yet she couldn't help but 
wonder if he was so occupied that he couldn't even think to send 
her a message of some sort...just to show he still remembered 
her.

      Life without him was a dreary existence, one in which she 
only woke hoping that that night would be the night in which he 
would finally grace her with his presence. It was too cold to 
wait up by the window, looking for signs of his arrival while 
the wind blew in snowdrifts from outside. But she did, and in 
the morning her maids always found her curled up at the window, 
having fallen asleep during her nightly vigils. It was a miracle 
that she passed the winter without catching her death from cold.

      The months passed and when there was still no sign of him, 
she began to have doubts. She began to wonder if there was 
someone else that the palace gossip circuit didn't know about, 
if that someone else had taken her place as his favorite. She 
kept on worrying, kept on fearing, until anxiety made her so 
haggard that her father sought to confine her to her bed fearing 
she was ill.

      So when he finally came to her at last under the cover of 
night, she was almost overcome with relief and gladness.

      They spent that night doing what they always did when he 
came to her rooms under such circumstances. He was as gentle 
with her as ever and took even greater care than before to see 
to her pleasure. When their entangled bodies finally stilled 
upon the bed, she was gasping, exhausted, and totally spent, 
though beside her she knew he was barely out of breath.

      For a while they simply lay there, not moving, satisfied 
to simply bathe in the afterglow. She snuggled as close to him 
as she dared, backing off when his body tensed to remind her of 
the always-present boundary he set between them. She knew him 
too well to expect him to stay long with her after the deed was 
done, and yet she could not help but hope that tonight would be 
the night he finally remained with her till morning, even if 
just to reassure herself that her encounters with him were more 
than just a dream.

      But when minutes passed and he still made no effort to 
disentangle himself, she raised her head and looked 
questioningly into his eyes. He was watching her, a thoughtful 
expression on his face, and for some inexplicable reason a sense 
of gratification suddenly rushed through her. 

      "Princess," he murmured against her hair, the word a 
reverence and as close to an endearment as she'd ever heard from 
him. 

      Heady with a feeling that could only be called elation, 
she promptly buried her face in his shoulder. The bright 
moonlight streaming through the open window chased away the 
shadows and in that moment of false security, she slipped and 
committed the most grievous error she could ever commit in their 
relationship. Snuggling against his throat, she whispered three 
fatal words:

      "I love you."

      Fool she was. It could not be said that she didn't know 
better, for she did. She had heard all too many stories of 
broken hearts as a result of such confessions to the prince, had 
sworn up and down that *she* would never be so foolish as to 
commit such an act. But in her defense, it could only be said 
she never truly expected to fall as hard for him as she did. And 
people in love were known to be all kinds of fools. But perhaps 
the most importantly, she had high hopes that she had become 
more than simply one of his women.

      Her hopes were misplaced.

      At her whispered admission, he bolted up, dumping her away 
from him as if she had suddenly grown two heads and a tail. As 
for her, she was too shocked to say anything, and could only 
stare with growing dismay as he leapt out of the warmth they'd 
created. He didn't even hesitate, even though the wintry bite of 
early spring must have chilled him to the bone. It took less 
than a minute for him to throw on his robe and grab his short 
sword from the foot of the bed. And never once did he glance 
her way.

      She watched him the entire time, not saying anything, not 
doing anything, hardly even daring to breathe, while tears 
streamed silently down her cheeks.

      He was already at the doorway, when he paused and finally 
turned to face at her. For an indeterminate period of time, they 
remained like that, staring at each other with one unwilling to 
move and the other unable to. She could not truly see him, for 
clouds had shadowed the previously bright moon. Everything was 
shadowed and in shadows, until suddenly a stray moonbeam slipped 
into the room, and his eyes, which were previously hooded in the 
darkness, snared that passing shaft of light and flared into 
gold like water reflected by the sun.

      She caught her breath then, almost choking on her tears. 
Gods, but he was beautiful. And suddenly, in a flash of 
intuition, she knew that if he left tonight, she would never 
again see him like this. But, oh, she didn't know what to say in 
order to make him stay.

      He searched her face as if looking for some hidden clue, 
and then he broke the tense silence.

      "Why?"

      The question resounded through the room, even though it 
had been spoken in a hoarse whisper. She gazed upon him 
frantically. Why? Why did she love him? Was that what he was 
asking?

      When she told him she loved him, she crossed the boundary 
he set between all his lovers. And if the stories were true, 
whenever that happened, he discarded the woman without a second 
glance no matter what it might have seemed she meant to him. 
That he was still standing there gave her hope there might yet 
be a future for the two of them.

      But then he continued, "Why do you love me, when I 
do not love you?"

      Somewhere under the pounding of her own blood, she felt a 
thing fragile and precarious breaking inside her. Her worst 
doubts and misgivings had come true. Stated so bluntly, and from 
his own mouth no less...

      And he was still waiting for a reply.

      Her tongue felt leaden and glued to the floor of her mouth. 
"B-b-because..." she stammered, and then choked, unable to go on. 
She cried silently for him to see that her love for him had no 
words to describe it, that it was unconditional, even if one-
sided. She willed him to see that her heart, body and soul was 
his for the taking. If he would only accept it.

      But apparently, what she offered wasn't enough, for in the 
face of her selfless offer, a mask slammed over his face and any 
emotion except that of carefully cultivated geniality fled from 
his expression. And as dispassionately as if he was discussing 
the weather, he told her, "I'm sorry." He bowed to her; though 
whether in apology or regret or remorse, she would never know. 
Then shutting the door gently behind him, he walked out of her 
life.

      A year later, her son was born.


[End "Child of Unrequited Love"]
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Author's endnotes:

      I have always wondered how the women Prince Mursili 
discarded felt, as well as his reason for doing so. The 
character of the princess, from whose perspective this story was 
written in, has always fascinated me. She made her debut 
appearance in the manga SORA WA AKAI KAWA NO HOTORI as the 
mother of a boy rumored to be Mursili's illegitimate child. This 
rumor was to become the basis of another of Queen Nakia's 
insidious plots to separate the heroine Yuri from her beloved 
prince.
      While Yuri and Mursili will always to be my favorite 
couple, one could not help but wonder why Mursili, prior to 
meeting her, pushed all those other women away as he did. A 
simple answer is readily available: because that was how 
Shinohara Chie wanted it to be. But in the realm of fanfiction, 
one can explore possibilities and delve into alternate 
explanations. And this story was simply the result of my take on 
the whole issue. ^_^
      BTW, if anyone noticed I never mentioned the princess by 
name, it's because I forgot her name.


Feedback needed, please, to keep this fanfic author sane. *^-^*
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noir_corbeau@hotmail.com 
www.geocities.com/corbeaun
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