Ashes Fade Away

(1/?)

By Sakata Ri Houjun

Content:  No Tasuki, yet.  Gomen ne.

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Hazel eyes danced nervously about, absorbing the vast

shoreline of Isan as the ship drew closer to port.

"Nuriko, is this to be my new home?"  The young woman

spoke to her violet-haired companion on her left, but

never took her eyes off the landmass swiftly

approaching.

"Yes, milady."  Nuriko placed a hand upon the

princess's shoulder in a gesture that was meant to

be comforting.  The two had been friends since

childhood and now that friendship stretched to include

protector and confidant as well.  When the princess

was betrothed to King Akunin, Nuriko volunteered to

accompany her.

With slender hands, the princess covered that of her

friend, feeling the nervous apprehension slowly

receding.  She was scared, that couldn't be helped. 

Never had she seen a country so vast and the man she

was to marry ruled it all.  Such a strange, foreign

place and she knew she'd never fit in among those who

would become her subjects.

But more than that, she was frightened of her future

husband.  Even though she had never met King Akunin,

her mother praised him until he sounded too perfect. 

However, her brother took her aside the night before

she departed the only home she had even known and

warned her of the rumors he'd heard about this man's

cruelty.  If what Keisuke had told her was true, then

this would truly be an unhappy marriage, much like the

one her parents maintained.

In her heart, Miaka ardently wished to marry for love

rather than for title, prestige, or convience. 

Unfortunately, such was her lot in life and could not

be altered.  She had long ago resigned herself to the

loveless life that women of high station, like

herself, lived.

Nuriko knew of her friend's desires and could do

nothing to help.  In truth, she was frightened as

well, for once the princess was married, her duty to

her friend would be completed.  She, of course, would

remain in the castle.  But what would become of her? 

In such a foreign land, what could they hope to

expect?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hotohori watched as each passenger disembarked the

ship, coming down the gangplank to the pier.  Behind

him, Tamahome stood ready, anticipating attack. 

Chichiri had remained with the horses, standing

impassively with his face still shrouded, yet

observant nonetheless.

Briefly, his thoughts traveled back to when he had

first individually met each of his companions.

Tamahome had been a free-lance fighter, selling his

services to the highest bidder, until he joined the

royal army.  Within a year, he had easily moved among

the ranks and after a particularly brave act, he had

been knighted.  Not much older than himself, the

knight was highly skilled in most weaponry although he

preferred to use his bare hands to subdue his

opponents, a fact that prevented Tamahome from

commanding himself.

Chichiri, on the other hand, left the prince with more

questions than answers.  The mage had appeared one day

several years ago in his father's court, assuming the

vacant role of advisor.  Hotohori had seen the man's

face once and could sympathize with his need to keep

it hidden.  However, he still had to wonder how he got

that scar.  The man kept to himself and his past still

remained a mystery to this day.

Then a flash of rose-colored silk caught his attention

and he focused once more at the ship.  Gracefully and

timidly, a cloaked figure made its way down to the

pier, closely followed by another cloaked figure, this

time in a soft lavender.  As they tentively drew

closer, Hotohori could distinguish slender frames

beneath the delicate cloth which indicated that both

were female.  The pale hands of the one dressed in

pink moved nervously about, soft and smooth looking. 

Definitely not the hands of a commoner.

He strode towards the pair, certain now from the

quality of their silk cloaks that this was Princess

Miaka and quite possibly her maid or companion.  They

both paused as he swept aside his cape to afford a

low, sweeping bow.

"Greeting."  He straightened and took a hold of one of

those pale hands in a gentle and chivalrous gesture

common among aristocrats.  "I am Crown Prince

Hotohori, son of His Majesty, King Akunin.  I have

come to welcome you to your new home."  He brought the

hand he held up to his lips in a tender but chaste

kiss.

From within the confines of her cloak, Miaka blushed. 

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't this.  This

beautiful, young man was to be her stepson?  Deep

inside, her heart clenched as she wondered how old his

father must be and hoped that Hotohori had taken after

him.

When her hand was released, she pushed back the

delicate fabric, blinking momentarily from the

brilliance of the midday sun as it blinded her

sensitive eyes.  She then smiled genuinely at the

prince because of his manners as well as his beauty.

"I thank you, Your Highness."  She curtsied, lowering

her eyes in respect as etiquette dictated.  "I am

Princess Miaka, born to the kingdom of Sakaeru.  I am

honored that you have chosen to greet me in person."

Hotohori blinked back at the sight of the innocent

beauty of this apparently young woman.  Her hazel eyes

were wide and seemed to be lit with barely restrained

energy.  The deep russet of her hair caught the rays

of sunlight, the slim circlet she wore sparkling.  She

was perhaps a year or two younger than he and for a

moment he thought that it was unfair for her to be

betrothed to a man old enough to be her father.

But this was his father she was to marry and it wasn't

his place to question it.

The princess’s companion stepped forward to remind

the others of her presence.  She removed her hood as

well and Hotohori blinked a second time as he took in

the appearance of the woman.  Vibrant violet hair was

pulled back into an elaborate braid while soft eyes of

a pinkish hue locked onto his amber ones.  She was

older that the princess, perhaps even the same age as

he.  A shy smile crept over her pale features as she

slightly ducked her head, causing the eye to draw to

the pair of crystal earrings that dangled from her

ears.

"This is my maid and protector, the Lady Nuriko." 

Miaka indicated the violet-haired woman with a small

nod.

Nuriko curtsied in response to the introduction,

breaking the eye contact she had established with he

prince as she lowered her gaze respectfully.  Her

heart had begun pounding when she first noticed

Hotohori on the pier.  She had hoped that he was there

to greet them as the quality of his attire suggested,

but secretly wished that his wasn't the man her friend

was to marry since the colors he wore also indicated a

royal station as well.

When he first spoke, Nuriko had blushed at the gentle

and melodious sound of his voice.  The prince had

kissed her lady's hand and she envied the attention

that hand had received.  Now she allowed her eyes to

wander along the length of his body, an action that

was wrong and shameful for ladies of high station. 

But then again, she was no lady and even through the

armor and rich elegance of his tunic and cape, she

could tell that even his body was beautiful and she

blushed even more.

Nuriko opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught

in her throat.  Hotohori was an exquisite man and she

knew that because he was a prince, she could never

have him.  She caught his eyes again and felt her

heart constrict at that thought.

Hotohori gave a secretive smile to Nuriko.  He was

full aware of her blush and knew that she had found

him attractive.  He just had that effect on people,

women in particular.

Carefully, he took Miaka's hand again and tucked it

into the crook of his arm as he turned, facing his

waiting companions, Tamahome having joined Chichiri by

the horses.  He led Miaka towards them, Nuriko

following like a purple shadow.

Both Chichiri and Tamahome faced the two approaching

women.  "These are my companions who will escort us

back to the castle," Hotohori explained.

"This is the royal advisor and a sorcerer of the

highest degree, Chichiri."  The hooded man gave a

slight nod in their direction, but said nothing nor

made any further movement.

"And this is the finest knight among the royal guard,

Tamahome."  He straightened at the sound of his name

before going down to one knee before the princess, a

fist placed over his heart and head bowed.

"I am ready to protect you with my life, My Lady and

future queen," he pledged solemnly.

"Protection?"  Nuriko had found her voice and glanced

quizzically in the prince's direction.  "Is that really

necessary?"

Hotohori raised an eyebrow at Nuriko's question. 

"Tamahome is perfectly adequate of handling any danger

we may encounter on our journey by himself."

Nuriko shook her head.  "It's too much, really.  I am

all the protection Princess Miaka really needs," she

explained.

Hotohori afforded himself a small chuckle as he looked

Nuriko's small, delicate frame over.  "Pardon my

rudeness, but you are just a willow of a woman.  How

can you hope to even protect yourself?"

Nuriko scowled slightly.  "Appearances can be

deceiving, Your Highness."

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Next Chapter:  The long road ahead