#//my multipara heart go brrr

[astra-stellaris-a]

@samuraiisms​ // -----------------

Sometimes Atria wondered what she was doing with the elaborate plans she had, the ambition, the drive, but mostly it was just a frustration to be turned away at every front due to things outside of her control. Things outside of the clan didn’t work the same as internal matters. There, power ruled all.

It started when her grandmother died when she was fifteen. The Kurokawa fell into her hands and they flourished under her guidance, amassing money and reputation quickly, regardless of the situation with her uncles several years prior. She fell into a rhythm, running the clan, okaying things, making sure they were doing well while dealing with the Stellaris.

And the two were day and night. Kurokawa were generally emotional, moreso than the average person and the Stellaris--well, they weren’t. Getting a reaction out of them was like trying to get blood out of a turnip.

And then, her father died short of her twenty-fourth birthday. It had taken nearly six months to go through his things, to grieve, even though she still felt the pang of loss every time she saw lavender, every time she saw the moon and stars. It was an ever-present ache that would get better with time. However, she found something--marriage contracts.

Some were from wind, some from fire, from every single land--daimyo’s youngest sons, vying for her hand in marriage. The stipulations, that she would have to carry a child within the first year, that she would be nothing but an incubator, made her hair spark. The first scroll she’d read burst into flame. The second had been thrown through a window--and the third? Well, it’s scorched remains made good kindling for the kitchen stove.

The only saving grace was her father’s records, the copies of the letters he’d sent denying them in no uncertain terms. There were two, that were passable. One, from the land of iron, and the other, from the land of water. Her family would be forced into a shinobi’s life with the land of water, the scroll read. Atria wasn’t ready for that, their family wasn’t ready for that.

And so, she penned the land of iron in her signature green ink, her calligraphy flowing like a heavy rain down the page.

Her stipulations were simple:

none of her family were to become shinobi

she would not have to contractually bear an heir

station would not matter in choice

the person must be dedicated, ambitious and driven

they must truly care for their people

she must be able to pass down her family’s techniques

They were bullet-pointed, quick, to the point, with no flowery words or text to contradict her harshness.

_________________________________

She’d turned twenty-five before everything panned out, and at the beginning of spring, they were to move, to meet her soon-to-be husband. Her letters were brisk, heavy and uncompromising, which was in contrast with her quiet, reserved, kind nature. As a female of that age, she had to be that way. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made it as far as she did.

The day to meet him arrived. She dressed in not her finest clothes, but not the ones she would wear at home when there was nothing to do. Her hair was left down, it’s inky black length calling of the river that was her grandmother’s last name. And her swords were at her hip, the hilt shining as if they were just made. She had selected her younger brother, three years her junior, and her cousin and protector, Sayuri to accompany her. They would stay out of the way and provide a discerning eye.

She was anxious. 

For such a short person, she was an imposing figure. Her beauty would have been coveted and hidden behind walls with other people, just for royalty. But she didn’t want that--she wanted to live, she wanted a life that would allow her to be her. Her beauty was in her vibrancy, her drive, her kindness, and she would die before she allowed it to wither away as someone’s prized possession.

Her eyes lit against his own and she inclined her head. “My soon-to-be husband. Tell me of your people. And tell me of yourself, your ambitions. Tell me everything.” Her head tilted up, her gaze molten steel. “If you are honest, just and ambitious, I will be your partner.” 

Not just a wife. An equal.