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alottanothing · 5 years ago

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Left to Ruin Chapter Six

Summary: Kahmurnah makes a decision that affects more than just his brother’s happiness. Nouke struggles with the life she finds forced upon she and her family.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 5209

Warnings: none

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This one sorta jumps backward a bit—stora a “meanwhile at the palace” while Ahk and Meren are venturing. Hopefully that’s not confusing. Also, thank you once again for the love you’ve been showing this story! It’s such a great feeling knowing others are enjoying something I’ve poured so much into. I wanna give you all hugs! 🤗🤗 Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible. Keep in mind that Nouke and Ahk are the same age, so at the beginning of this she’s 13 years old.

The first few days after the prince left were the hardest. Nouke was angry; angry she'd convinced Ahk not to ask his father whether or not she could accompany him. The likeliness of the pharaoh allowing a servant girl to join the princes' adventure was slim, but she’d snuffed out the flame of hope before it could even spark. Which meant it was her fault she missed him so bad.

After two weeks, the days began to feel less empty. The atmosphere of the capital was calm; no sense of impending doom lingered without the wise ruler Merenkahre there to guide them. The queen was keeping Kahmunrah in check; or at least that was the word around the palace according to the servants. With Akhmenrah away, Nouke’s gossip all came from the women she worked with. They loved to talk, and Nouke found their stories both intriguing and ridiculous but listening to the drama helped the hours go by faster.

Her day to day routine was the same as it had been since she’d begun her life of servitude; the only change was the amount of work she took on. Nouke encumbered herself with more work than a girl of thirteen was expected to do, she liked the distraction and how often her work bled into the evenings. Evenings were the hardest to endure with her friend away; the garden just wasn’t the same without his warmth.

Her world no longer held the same spark with Ahk away, but Nouke was glad for the routine she found with her responsibilities. Life was dull, but pleasant; at least for a time.

The sun was still high in the sky the day two brutish men ambushed her while she was hanging linens to dry. Instinctively, Nouke kicked and shouted, trying to squirm her way out of their strong grasp; her heart pounded against the walls of her chest, startled. They were not usual palace guards who had seized her, she could tell by the armor they wore. The pieces they wore were shoddy and not the golden regalia of palace guards. The men who carried her were dressed like mercenaries: Kahmunrah’s hired compatriots.

Nouke knew very little about Ahk’s older brother. He had a reputation among most of the servants as being needlessly cruel, and from how Ahkmenrah spoke of him, she knew that the eldest prince wanted nothing to do with any of his siblings. Her friend had spoken many times about wishing Kah would act like a brother to him—share a kinship. Nouke never understood why anyone would want such a man to be their sibling.

“What have I done?” Nouke spit out, a little more harshly than she intended. “Where are you taking me?”

Her captors met her with a stone-faced silence that caused a trickle of fear to seep into her. In a flash, her mind searched through all the chores she had tended to, desperately trying to recall one she may have missed or done wrong—Am I being punished?

Without Ahk to keep her up to date on royal happenings, Nouke knew only that the pharaoh had left his eldest son in command, with the queen watching over his every move. But the queen was away too, hosting a week-long festival for the goddess Isis near the temple at the opposite end of the city; a fact Nouke was privy to only because of her mother’s closeness with the queen.

With Shepseheret away, the only person left to bark commands was Kahmunrah. Nouke had purposely avoided the displeasure of his company, but the gnawing in her stomach told her that was about to change.

Gaining no answer from the men who drug her through the halls like a woven sack of perishables, Nouke’s fight faded, knowing her best option was submission; she had no other choice but to keep her mouth shut and obey. Even so, she kept her resolve steady; her emotional strength was the one thing she could flaunt. It gave her a way to fight back without physicality: a way to show whoever had summoned her that she would not easily be broken.

Nouke’s captors brought her through the towering doors of the throne room and stopped several paces back from where Kahmunrah sat radiating a suffocating air of lordliness. The eldest son of the pharaoh Merenkahre had adorned himself with surplus raiment; jewels sparkled off of his wide collar, bracers, belt, and rings. He was wrapped in a golden cape, decorated with the fur of a mighty beast as though to further sell the lie. Kah wore everything except the one thing that truly made him the ruler he thought himself to be—the crown.

Nouke decided quickly that there wasn’t even the smallest fraction of the man before her that reminded her of his younger brother. Everything she needed to know about Kahmunrah was there in his cold eyes and smug expression. She couldn’t help but frown at him, her eyes narrowing skeptically—how could the man before her hold any relation to her sweet prince?

Surrounding the wannabe king was a group of men who’s attire was significantly less lavish, but they collectively held a mein of power that was blatantly domineering. Their eyes weren’t as cold as Kahmunrah’s, but they looked down upon her as though the very sight of someone of her class was detestable. As for Kah, he had hardly glanced her way. He’d given her an inferior side-eye with an added sneer and nothing more. He found her presence irritating, but Nouke couldn’t help but feel the same way about him.

Just as Nouke began weighing the likelihood of making a churlish remark without reprimand, the throne room doors swung open again as two more sets of Kahmunrah’s men entered. One pair had a hold of her father, who like she had been, was kicking and trying to wrangle free. The other two had her mother, and the fear she found on her mother’s face was enough to strike a crack in her resolve.

“I am a soldier in the pharaoh's army! I demand to know what is the meaning of all of this!” her father, Ramentukah said through bared teeth, addressing the false king.

Kahmunrah remained pompously relaxed on his throne, looking down on them as though they were insects he wanted nothing more than to crush beneath his feet. He said nothing for a long while, purposely letting Ramentukah’s question hang in the air between them as a reminder they were in no place to make demands of a member of the royal house.

His cold eyes leered as the smug simper faded into a firm line, morphing into a look of disgust. Finally, he stood, and when he spoke, his tone was condemning and dark.

“It has come to my attention, that my brother’s prized tablet has gone missing from its temple. It is also my understanding that you—” Kahmunrah shifted his gaze to Nouke’s father. “Ramentukah, were the last soldier to stand guard at the temple doors.”

Nouke’s mouth popped open, and her narrowed eyed glare zeroed in on the eldest prince, shocked that her loyal father would even be accused of such a crime. The pharaoh Merenkahre and the Queen had always treated her family kindly. It was even the pharaoh who had given her father the opportunity to better himself by becoming a soldier instead of living his life as a farmer. Nouke knew without a doubt her father would never do anything to sully what he had achieved—especially by stealing the princes’ tablet.

Nouke’s mother even gave Kah a look of disbelief, shaking her head, not giving in to the accusation.

Nevertheless, Ramentukah bowed respectfully. “Your Grace, I assure you I, nor my family have no involvement with this crime.”

Kah’s sneer grew more repulsed, taking her father’s denial as a challenge.

“I owe all that I have become to the pharaoh—your father. Why would I do anything to slight he or his kin? I have been a loyal, obedient soldier for many years. My wife and daughter, loyal, hard-working servants—friends to her majesty the queen and the prince. Why would I partake in a crime that would jeopardize those relationships?" Ramentukah kept his head bowed as he spoke, to show that he meant no offense, but his tone was steady and full of conviction.

Despite all the words of logic and her father's obvious obedience, Nouke could see from the look of his callous features, that the eldest prince was still unconvinced.

“Why indeed?” he quipped with a shrug. “Yet, to me, your story seems highly suspect.”

Kahmunrah paused to think, rubbing the point of his chin until a flash of wickedness gleamed in his dark eyes.

“A crime of this caliber surely had accomplices…” his serpentine eyes moved to Maketaten and Nouke.

Suddenly, a knot twisted into Nouke’s stomach, and her throat grew tight as her heart pounded loud enough and quick enough she was certain everyone in the throne room could hear it. The anticipation and the speculation were causing her breaths to fall short as she watched Ahkmenrah’s evil brother work in his mind how best to destroy them.

“Involvement with a thief demands a punishment equal to the severity of the culprit,” Kah grinned fiendishly. “Execution—all three of you.”

Nouke stared blankly, vision tunneling, emotions rearing to an eerie calm despite the dreadful sentence; she was frozen. Her mother, however, broke into loud sobs and quiet pleas while her father tried to reason.

“Your majesty, it was me that stood guard. If someone must be punished, let it be me. I beg of you—mercy for my family. Let Anubis judge only my soul.”

Tears were fighting to spill from Nouke’s eyes as she listened to her father plead; his willingness to die to spare them enough to make her stomach churn sickly in her gut. She wanted to scream, to fight—to fling her fists at Kahmunrah’s smug face. But doing so would surely make things worse, so she stayed quiet, drowning, and frozen in her emotion.

Kahmunrah stood, savoring every moment as her father and mother continued to beg for their lives and the life of their daughter. She could see the glint of honest joy reflect in his eyes as her parents groveled at his feet. Nouke hated him.

Just before guards could be called to take them away, the men standing behind the false king spoke up, looking displeased.

“Enough, Kahmunrah!” an older man spoke robustly. “You’ve had your fun—you know only the queen holds the power to sanction such punishment while the Pharaoh is away.”

The frown that took hold of Kah’s lips was significant enough to shake the earth; he turned to the man who had spoken and Nouke could hear the irritation his face held.

“The queen. Is not. Here.”

“And need we remind you. You are the discarded prince of the pharaoh; you hold no more power than we,” the same man said sternly. “Our pharaoh gave you command out of pity, not thanks, I assure you.”

All at once, the throne room was hotter than the desert sun as Kahmunrah’s anger boiled over. He shouted and argued, cursing the men who advised him, filling the nearly empty hall with malevolent words that were as sharp as knives.

While he screamed, Nouke wanted nothing more than to run to her mother and father, but each of them were still restrained. A single tear slid down her cheek, breaching her composure, finding that it was not for herself, or her parents but for Ahkmenrah. What would he think when he returned and learned of her family’s persecution? Would he believe the rumor? Would he be glad Kah had sentenced them to death on account? Nouke shook her head—her friend would never be so cruel. He would be brokenhearted by the whole situation and the thought of his warmth being consumed with sadness almost sent another tear down her cheek.

Ahkmenrah would know neither she nor her family was involved in such lunacy; the only anger he may hold would be on account of his brother destroying innocent lives.

An entire lifetime could have passed before Kahmunrah relented his arguing. The irritation heavily creased onto his brow lent a glimmer of hope. Had he turned to address them with delight and malice in his eyes, Nouke knew they would be killed for sure. That annoyance lingered—lips pursed tight as he toppled back into his throne, eyeing them.

“My advisors feel that the lack of evidence dictates a different form of punishment.” He said boredly. “The first involves the three of you being locked away in a cell, where you will await trial until the tablet is found, and evidence to your involvement may be denied. If you are innocent, you may return to your duties as usual. If found guilty—execution.”

“And the second?” Ramentukah asked, voice steady.

“Banishment—effective immediately," Kah stated, just as boredly. “You will be removed from the palace grounds ensuring you will escape execution, but you will be stripped of titles and privileges you currently hold.”

Ramentukah glanced to his wife and daughter looking beaten and betrayed. He had always been proud of the ranks he’d earned and the placement he’d gained for his family; a life in the palace—even as servants—was better than a life on the streets.

“Make your decision, soldier, or it will be made for you!” Kah shouted, growing impatient.

Ramentukah glanced toward his wife and daughter, sighing out of relief, or defeat, Nouke couldn’t tell.

“Banishment, my lord. Give us banishment so that I may see my daughter grow, and so I may continue to love my wife with all my heart.”

The sentiment was lost on Kahmunrah, and his annoyance grew having been denied the prospect of executing them in the future.

“So be it,” he sneered. “And I will warn you. If any of you are discovered on palace soil again, I will personally see to it that you are given a swift execution.

With an errant wave, he instructed his men, “Remove them.”

Just as quickly as before, the men holding her by the arms pulled her through the corridors of the palace. They were given only moments to collect their things from their rudimentary quarters before being hastily escorted through the palace with weapons held behind their backs.

Nouke’s tears began to fall in earnest, in quiet streams unable to hold them at bay any longer. Her nerves were frayed—emotions a chaotic jumble in her head. Some of those tears spilled in relief: relief that she and her parents would live to see another day. And some fell as the realization she would never see her sweet prince again finally settled.

Her heart felt like a stone in her chest with that thought, and she wondered if he would miss her as much as she would miss him.

***

Nouke had never seen the capital of Waset first hand until the day her family was cast out of the palace. Most of her life was sheltered behind sturdy walls, venturing beyond them only when she and the prince would make use of their secret passageway in the West Garden. Even then, they had never dared to stray too far, at most seeing the city from a distance.

The city streets were loud and dirty and teeming with people from all walks of life. For a moment, it sparked her sense of adventure seeing sights she had only ever heard about from the merchants who came to sell their goods to the palace. Still, Nouke never strayed too far from her parents as they fell in line with the flow of foot traffic. It seemed like they walked for hours, and her feet hurt when they finally took refuge in an inn close to the city's center.

That first night, and every night thereafter for several months she and her family stayed within the musty walls of that inn. Much of her time was spent alone in their single room while her mother and father took odd jobs to save money to purchase land with the hope to one-day farm.

Those days were the hardest. The small space was drab and dark compared to the bright, beautiful halls Nouke was used to—they seemed to mirror the sorrow she felt. Most of all she missed her friend.

Before long, Nouke said farewell to the drab walls of the inn, and home became a plot of land on the far end of the city. The high walls, golden statues, and towering columns she was used to became a structure of modest means; a dwelling constructed of mud and bricks with enough land to plant on.

Ramentukah wasted no time in teaching Nouke and his wife how to best till the soil, calling upon teachings he’d learned in his youth. The work was hard, grueling in the desert heat, but Nouke caught on quickly. When harvest time came, her father showed them how best to bushel and bundle their crop to sell at the market, and after two bountiful harvests, their farm grew even more.

Her father hired hands to help them and even bought livestock to ensure more lucrative income. Nouke was glad for the routine of it all: the early mornings, long hours in the field, trips to the market, then early to bed for it all to begin once more come the dawn. It left her with little time to dwell on things she’d been forced to leave behind—especially the prince she would never see again.

But she did see the prince again; two times from afar and each time more heartbreaking than the last.

The first time she saw him, Nouke had been in the market square with her father, trying to sell bushels of produce from their latest harvest out of the back of a cart. Usually, she enjoyed the clamor and the fresh faces she saw in the busy streets of Waset. They were colorful people she liked to imagine were adventurers with significant means and a head full of stories to tell her, even though most were simple common farmers like she and her father; simple people trying to make enough coin to keep food on the table. Still, the game helped the hours pass while she sat with her father, munching on the pieces of their harvest that were less likely to sell.

That morning, however, Nouke awoke with a peculiar melancholy lingering in the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling that dulled the world around her; a sadness she couldn’t quite place and all she wanted to do was stay on the farm where her usual chores offered enough distraction to steal away the poignant ache. Not even her game of making up grand tales for all the merchants could deter what she felt. Her mind instead wandered, and without really meaning to, she counted the month’s her family had been living in exile. A frown weighed on her lips, inducing more ruefulness to stir in her gut, realizing it was easier to count the years.

Two years as a commoner were not so terrible. There was a sort of freedom in their banishment but also uncertainty too. Those who worked in the palace were promised shelter and at least one meal in exchange for servitude. Nothing was promised as a farmer except longer working hours in the desert sun.

Two years.

Two years of a lifetime under that sun and dirt under her fingernails. Two years of a lifetime praying the gods gave them bountiful crop. Two years of a lifetime away from her friend.

Nouke's frown plunged deeper, and a sigh escaped her lips. She missed her kind prince.

Just as she turned to beg her father to go back to the farm, craving the meticulous distraction that awaited her, a commotion stopped her words before they could fall past her downturned lips, drawing her attention elsewhere.

The market was always a symphony of indistinct chatter as the merchants swindled customers: chickens clucking in their cages and children screaming as they ran wildly about. All of it had become a familiar thrum Nouke was used to. The crash of drums split that normal wiring with an echoing beat Nouke easily plucked from the typical chaos. In rhythm with the drumming fell a softer sound of marching, growing louder moment by moment as the source approached.

Curiosity swelled in her stomach, devouring the melancholy ache that had plagued her all morning, and she stood on the edge of the cart, eyes darting around in search of the exciting new sound. Drums and the accompaniment of marching could only mean one thing, a parade, a royal parade.

The last time such sounds resonated throughout the city center were the day the pharaoh and the prince returned after years away. Nouke missed that one, stuck at home working in the fields with her father and the boys they employed to help. Another parade so soon could only mean one thing; her friend now wore the crown.

She wasn’t going to let herself miss another chance to see Ahk. Nouke jumped from her father’s cart and pushed her way through the gathering crowd until she found a stoop that gave her an unhindered view of the approaching procession. Her heart was beating out a rhythm much too quick to keep in time with the methodical pulse of the drums ringing in the air; hope began to surge through her, that in her mind she knew would only make that ruefulness she felt earlier return worse than ever.

When she finally saw him, her fervent heart almost stopped completely; he was ethereal from a distance.

Ahkmenrah rode proudly in his golden chariot pulled by white stallions. His gilded raiment shimmered in the sun’s light, glittering jewels on his wesekh and belt, with a crown on his head. Her prince had become a Pharaoh—one step further from her reach. Even so, Nouke couldn’t keep from calling out to him; she wanted to let him know that, despite all that had befallen her; she was okay. She wanted to tell him how proud she was of him and that no matter the paths they tread she would always be his friend. However, amidst all the commotion, Ahk never so much as glanced in her direction.

The smile slowly faded as Nouke watched him come and go, feeling a heaviness in her heart that she’d not endured since the day she and her family were banished from the palace.

***

After four years of plowing, harvesting, and haggling at the market, Nouke’s life had never felt more normal. The youth she’d spent in the palace seemed more akin to a dream the longer time went on. She would always cherish those memories with the entirety of her heart, even if they did often make her heart feel heavy. Her time to play in the palace gardens had ended, but she never wanted to forget her friend.

The closest thing she had to that mystical garden of her childhood was the Waset city square. It was open and teeming with life, both greenery, and people. She would sit under the shade of the manicured palms or on the edge of the large fountain, reveling in the life she held. A part of her was glad for the exile wrongly given to her family. Her entire world would have been cooped up in high palace walls forever serving and never seeing.

Nouke thought seldom of her past life whenever she could spend a day at the city's center. However, when she ventured to the roof of their modest farmhouse, Nouke always let her mind wander while her eyes looked to the horizon, seeing the palace sparkling in the distance. Especially then thoughts of her youth began to tug relentlessly on her heartstrings. She’d spent countless evenings among the nest of makeshift cushions and mats she’d acquired over the years with tears in her eyes as she looked to the ever-present reminder of the friend she was forced to leave behind.

***

It had been the talk of everyone for over a week in the capital; the pharaoh would soon take a bride. The excitement was tangible from the market square all the way to the docks along the Nile, especially when the nobles began to arrive to join in on the festivities at the palace.

That week was long for Nouke. Every merchant and customer seemed more animated with the prospect of citywide celebration, but Nouke could not bring herself to share the collective elation. Nevertheless, she put on a smile anytime someone came to her and her father’s cart to make a sale speaking of the upcoming union, then her face would fall back into its perpetual frown.

Her heart ached more than she cared to admit, and though she knew it wasn’t her place to harbor such unfathomable anguish about her sweet prince marrying another; the idea ate at her every moment. Never so much as the moment, she saw him again.

Sleep never came to her the night before the pharaoh was to take his queen; she spent every hour tossing and turning, envying her soundly sleeping parents on the opposite side of the room. Nouke felt like grieving, but she was too stubborn to let herself shed any more tears over a life she knew could never be hers. Sadness, however, was almost worse without the release of tears.

Before the sun breached the horizon, Nouke ventured up to her nest atop their home, resting against a stack of sacks and the quarter wall that lined the roof. She looked to the stars in the sky, watching them fade as the sun’s light consumed them. It took her most of the early morning to work up the nerve to let her sight find the palace on the horizon, knowing what torment it would bring her already laden heart. For a moment, she thought maybe her time in those far-off walls was only a dream: her golden childhood a glittering illusion her spirited mind cooked up. Nouke hoped it wasn’t merely a dream—she didn’t want Ahk to be only a dream.

Nouke lingered on her rooftop hideaway much of the morning, too disheartened to worry about the chores she was ignoring. She spent those hours mulling over the want to gather in the city square with the hope to catch a glimpse of the pharaoh and his queen. She wasn’t sure her heart could take that. Yet, the notion of seeing Ahk again was too intriguing to let pass by.

Nouke, against her better judgment, left for the city center just as the sun reached the middle of the sky, hoping she hadn’t missed the parade. Much of her walk she spent promising herself not to shout his name to stir the hope that he would see her; she would watch along with everyone else with no thought of ever becoming more than she was.

The crowd was already beginning to gather when Nouke reached the largest part of the city's center, finding every face alight with smiles; joy her heart was too heavy to properly hold. Quickly, she perched herself on the wide edge of the fountain, standing, before anyone else had thought to do so. Others joined her on the platform, pushing and shoving until she stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Nouke envied them all of their ignorance; they were there to see their king and marvel—she was there to catch a final glimpse of the life she had lost.

Before long, drums filled the air with a familiar rhythm, and with each nearing beat, the communal exuberance stirred. Nouke’s heart began to beat faster, nervous knots growing in her stomach. The louder the drums became, the more Nouke questioned why she had talked herself into enduring such heartache. Still hope swelled in her breast and she yearned to shove through the sea of people, stopping before her pharaoh’s golden chariot to beg he take her back to the palace.

Nouke wanted to feel the warmth of his kindness one more time, even if all she would ever be to him was a servant. However, she knew her place was to do and say nothing to him; he was the ruler of an empire, and she was the daughter of a suspected thief. Their paths were destined to remain forever divided.

Cheering and clapping pulled Nouke out of her rueful thoughts when the parade was upon them. The pharaoh Ahkmenrah and his Queen Setshepsut rode by slowly, hand in hand with smiles on their faces. Nouke couldn’t help but offer a soft smile seeing Ahk’s little sister Set, grown into a beautiful young woman. The prince had always been protective of his youngest sister; how perfect it was that she became his queen. He could be happy with her, and that gave Nouke a sliver of solace.

As they passed, Nouke uttered no words or shed no tears despite the emotions writhing inside of her. It was crushing to realize she would never again know him, but she tightened her jaw with stubborn disapproval of her own feelings. There was no sense in them.

“He’s so handsome,” the stranger next to her thought aloud.

Nouke nodded.

“Yes,” the stranger's friend rebuked unenthusiastically. “But I bet he’s nasty. The handsome ones always are.”

“No,” Nouke said before she could stop herself. “You’re wrong. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

The two women cast her a skeptical glance, “And how is it, you know that?”

“My family used to work in the palace,” she confessed without missing a beat, eyes still locked on the king and queen as they rode further away. “He and I grew up together. He was my friend…”

Nouke’s voice trailed off as memories she cherished rushed to fill her mind. It wasn’t until Ahk and his queen were swallowed by the sea of people that she finally blinked back to reality. Both strangers were staring at her as though she’d spoken utter nonsense, and Nouke wondered what had possessed her to come to Ahk’s defense; though she was glad she had nonetheless.

With a sigh, Nouke left the throng of people before the sound of the drums faded completely. The image of Ahkmenrah and his queen was cumbersome in her mind as she strode through the empty streets. She knew her heart would never truly forget him, but if she could push as many of those memories out of her mind, maybe life would be easier—less painful. If she willed herself to lock him away, to forget everything about her friend that made her feel whole, then perhaps she could find peace.

And for a while, she did.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Seven: What We Lost

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

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obld-erau · 3 years ago

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Week 6-Virtues

The three virtues I have selected that I can reflect on best are silence, industry, and tranquility. Silence, we have reviewed just this week in the form of gossip. In chapter 13 of Ethics, the topic of gossiping, its pros and cons are discussed. After reviewing the authors perspective, along with my personal experience in the workplace, I have formulated the decision matrix to avoid gossip as best as possible. I have been the victim of gossip and it has cost me positions I wanted while working as a detective and it has not fallen on deaf ears. When I transitioned to corporate life at Spirit Airlines, there is currently a policy forbidding gossip, punishable by administrative action. I thought this was interesting, as the way it was written made sense. Gossip can affect company morale, decision-making, external outcomes to our guests and even future applicants. I try to impress this virtue among other team members to not partake in “department scuttlebutt” as they wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. When people talk about others, it reflects how they feel about you when you’re not around.

Industry is a virtue I constantly have been trying to improve on in my daily life. Working full-time, in graduate study, and being a parent is no easy task to juggle. It has been hard several times throughout this program to keep an even keel and manage my time properly. Some weeks I have been successful, but other weeks I have faltered greatly. Something I have learned is that there will always be an imbalance of work tasks and you must manage them in order of priority. Some days I get distracted by social media use, perusing the internet looking at coaching tips for helping my son’s lacrosse game or simply just mentally and physically exhausted. The method that I have been using to improve not having unnecessary actions are to write down my tasks in my google calendar and assign myself a time limit to complete it. It has seemed to work for small tasks and to keep me abreast of my day.

Lastly, tranquility. I have worked on this a lot, especially after my exit from Law Enforcement. I suffered from cumulative PTSD and misplaced anger for years. It affected my work product, my relationship/marriage and even interaction with my kids and extended family. I couldn’t figure out how to combat it outside of leaving the job. At the time, I couldn’t leave so I had to create an alternate option to deal with my trauma and reaction to it. After trying outpatient therapy and still having the same issues, I tried out Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. The “gentle art” as it is commonly referred to, was an instant solution for me. Who would have thought that being choked out and your body bent like a pretzel would be so relaxing and good for your mental health? BJJ has always been more mental than physical for me. It has allowed me to succumb to losing, a lot. It is a constant humbling experience. That experience that I have gained on the mats has allowed me to be a much more calm individual, able to be comfortable while being uncomfortable and not giving in.

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neraawritesxx · 7 years ago

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Say I Do - Chapter 2

anime: Inuyasha pairing: Sesshomaru x Kagome genre: Drama/Romance words: 7,466 status: Ongoing

summary: [au] ‘I vow to you today and a thousand times over that I will never let you leave my side.’ The man to whom she was vowing eternal love was supposed to be her husband, not her brother-in-law.

a/n: Thank you to everyone who showed a tremendous amount of support and love for the last chapter. It was overwhelming to see how many people fell in love with the story. Thank you again!

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The magazines slammed onto the desk with an echoing 'thwack'.

"Of all the hairbrained, idiotic, and selfish things that he could have done," Touga growled, flopping back into the black leather chair behind him ungracefully. He ran a hand over his face slowly, trying to piece together his jumbled thoughts. A headache was starting to form in his temples and golden orbs screwed shut in an attempt to combat the pulsing throb that was quickly starting to escalate in magnitude. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. The only words that were distinguishable were 'spoiled brat' and 'ungrateful child'.

He took a moment to collect himself, exhaling a deep – slow – breath from his nose. "I wonder if she has seen them," he pondered out loud in a quiet voice, without opening eyes.

His comment was met with silence, not that Touga was expecting his guest to actually discuss the topic at hand. No, Sesshomaru would not discuss his half-brother, at least, not willingly. His son would never enter a conversation about Inuyasha, especially when said half-sibling was causing a scandal towards the family name.

Now, it was one thing to skip out on your own wedding. The press had a field-day covering that topic. It was in every newspaper, every tabloid, every gossip outlet. There were plenty assumptions made, especially about Kagome.

Had she run him off?

Was there another man? Another woman?

Just how did she end up being engaged to one brother and then married to the other one?

The names they called her weren't pleasant and neither were the presumptions that they were beginning to make about Sesshomaru. He was now sporting the label of 'wife stealer', though, if he resented the nickname, he didn't appear to show it. It didn't help that neither the members of the Higurashi family nor his own were offering any type of information to clarify the situation.

Touga had been in this business for a long time – he could fix this. There was no helping the circumstances that had already occurred. What was done, was done. It wasn't optimal for business, but it would eventually blow over. Being in the lime-light was something that one simply had to get used to; people nosing themselves into your daily life. Not everything those people were going to say would be positive. He knew he could pull a few strings; talk to certain personal-relations representatives and sure enough the story would be old news in a few weeks, a month at most. He could go back to running his business and the press could move on to the next hot topic.

A story of this caliber, unfortunately, was going to be especially hard to sweep under the rug. Especially when the individual who skipped out on his own wedding was then pictured – four days after the incident – leaving a New York City club with a scantily dressed female under his arm.

If they thought the wedding was widely covered, Inuyasha's "wild night out", as it was so dubbed, was blown-up to epic proportions.

The photos were all over the news, pictured in every magazine, plastered all over the internet.

The real kicker was that Inuyasha seemed to be reveling in the attention. He wasn't trying to slink away from the photographers, nor was he trying to hide his face. He wasn't caught off guard or surprised by being bombarded with the flashing lights. Instead, he was wearing the biggest, goofiest, shit-eating grin that Touga had ever see.

Touga understood that his son was not the pinnacle example of subtle, but couldn't he have just laid low? Let this entire circus-show die down before sneaking back into Japan and facing the consequences quietly?

Of course not, this was Inuyasha.

Even when attempting to be quiet, he was still the loudest person in the room.

He was always – always – drawing attention to himself.

"Imbecile," Touga groused, before releasing the hold he had on his nose and opening amber eyes in a slow, fatigued manner.

He swiveled in his chair with an audible 'squeak', casting his gaze towards the vibrant Tokyo skyline just outside his office windows. It was still early in the morning; the darkness of night had not long surrendered completely to the light of day. Touga could make out the thick gray clouds that were cast over the sky. There was an occasional spear of light that pierced through, dancing over the metallic surfaces of various buildings. It bathed his office in an eerie blanket of yellow-grayness that was surprisingly relaxing on his frayed nerves.

He huffed, leaning back further into his office chair. There were moments much like this one where he wished that he kept his hair long. It would give him something to tug on – something physical that would give him an outlet to vent his frustrations on. Contrary to popular belief, and unlike both of his sons, Touga chose not to take out his anger by throwing inanimate objects. He ran another hand through his cropped, slicked back white locks before bringing his chin to rest in the palm of his hand, elbow propped upon his knee.

He should have foreseen something like this occurring. You cannot make puppets out of human beings, toying with their lives until they bend to your will. It was hypocritical of him to even consider something like an arraigned wedding, especially when his first was just that.

His first marriage – to Sesshomaru's mother – was under the exact same circumstances. Touga's stomach churned at the notion of recalling those few years that they spent together.

Kimi was considered striking, unearthly, even amongst the presence of the most beautiful women. Touga always said that it had to do with her unusual coloring, alabaster locks and tawny eyes, much like his own. There was just an air about her that made her stand out from the rest. One glance in her direction and you understood that there was no way in which you could compete – she would always be above you, no matter the situation. Touga never really knew her outside of the few occasions that they had attended the same gathering, but Kimi's father was an associate of his own. Their fathers arraigned their union much like he had done for Inuyasha and Kagome.

Their downfall was not because Kimi was a bad person. There were no harsh words or lengthy bitter fights. Neither one of them went back on their vows, but their marriage was just…there.

Sesshomaru, much to Touga's amusement, took after his mother in personality. Kimi was always reserved, a woman who placed very high importance in the words that she spoke. She always chose her words carefully and if she didn't deem the conversation necessary, she didn't bother to offer any commentary. It made her standoffish – giving off a cold, numb persona – almost like she was an empty shell. There was a certain playfulness about her, though, Touga rarely ever caught a glimpse of that side of her. She usually demonstrated that type of attitude when presented with a challenge, especially challenges related to business. It was like a cat playing games with a mouse – cunning in nature in an almost sadistic type of way. This was what made her a worthy prospect of being his wife. She would help run his company with as much ruthless scrutiny as he intended to.

Unfortunately, the lack of intimate connection paired with no communication outside of their shared corporation, lead to a quick divorce a few years after Sesshomaru was born. The choice to have a child was a fail-safe option that they were considering, but a child could not be the glue that held a marriage together. Ultimately, it was a weight lifted off of both their shoulders when they separated. Neither of them were actually happy. The tension that was slowly building, pulling, on them for years had finally snapped. Their separation offered nothing but sweet relief for both parties. They parted ways with Kimi placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and a promise that she would be around for all holidays and important milestones in her son's life. It was a promise that she always saw fit to keep over the years and Touga was thankful for it.

His history was the real reason why he wasn't actually upset with what Inuyasha had done. He couldn't be. A loveless marriage was just that – loveless. To ask someone to partake in that type of unification, where loneliness was a constant companion instead of your significant other, was inhumane of him. He regarded his first wife impassively, but he knew that he was lonely during those years. It was like cold fingertips were lightly tracing his soul while he fruitlessly attempted to seek some type of warmth. It was empty and disheartening.

To even consider coercing this type of marriage made him look like a bigot. He had no excuse for his behavior and he would own up to what he had done. As much as his actions crushed him, they were still his own. There was no justification and he would attempt to make none. Just the thought of what had occurred left him permanently fatigued. It was selfish, but he saw the way Kagome and Inuyasha interacted with one another.

There was respect there; kindness and consideration.

There was love – albeit not the romantic kind of love, but there was love nonetheless.

That was more than he had in the foundations of his first marriage, so he had come to hope that they would build a lasting union together.

Touga cared for Kagome like a surrogate daughter, but he knew that with her father's passing, she would be in over her head with his company. The Board of Directors would have run her out of her position before the year was up. Touga respected her father far too much to watch his life's work slip through the young Higurashi's fingers. The ultimate outcome would have benefitted both parties. Kagome would be able to keep her father's company and Inuyasha – his utterly brainless son – would take over his portion in Touga's company with a woman by his side who would keep him levelheaded and focused.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Inuyasha, nor was it that he believed the downtrodden views that other individuals held for his second born. Touga knew this type of business would eventually be too much for him. Inuyasha may have been brash and strong-headed, but he was soft-hearted, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. When the world you live in turns against you, there is only so much that you could take. It would eventually fester like a plague – a parasite that would feed off of Inuyasha's essence. Touga never wanted to see the day where his son's spirit – no matter how pigheaded and loud it was – withered away. Inuyasha may pretend like the things that people said about him did not inflict any harm, but Touga knew better. He could see it in his son's eyes.

It would eat him alive one day.

Touga wanted to release the reigns to his company with little worry and Kagome was the key to making that happen. Everything that he had worked hard for would be left in three capable pairs of hands.

His dream would never die.

Well, now he wasn't so sure.

The whole notion went to hell with one son across the world partying and the woman who he was supposed to marry now legally tied to his elder half-brother.

Touga released an unamused snort, before lifting his head from his hand. Turning his back on the windows, he took the time to survey the room around him. Golden hues perused from the wall of built-in wooden bookshelves and filing cabinets, passed over the elongated glass conference table and chairs, pausing briefly on the empty onyx leather armchairs in front of his desk, and came to land on his elder son who was sitting on the black leather couch on the left side of the room.

Sesshomaru currently had his nose buried in a financial file of one of their competitors who was looking to strike up a deal, eyes slowly cascading over the page. His laptop sat open on the low glass-top coffee table in front of him, the black suit jacket that he wore to the office was neatly folded over the arm of the couch. The sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows and he had foregone a tie that morning, the top button of the shirt undone. To anyone else he would have looked like he was hard at work, but Touga knew better. There was a tension in his shoulders that had him drawn taught like a bow string. His son looked stiff and disconnected. His face held a neutral look, but there was an underlying stress that was accentuated with the small frown marring his features. Exhaustion was swimming in Sesshomaru's eyes, though if anyone questioned him on it, it would be easily disguised under his trademark glare of haughty disregard.

A pang of guilt lodged itself in the pit of Touga's stomach, forming an uncomfortable knot. He quickly attempted to squash the feeling.

Touga cast a quick glance towards the wall clock that hung above his office door, noting that it was still relatively early in the morning. The office technically had not opened yet, but within the next half-hour, his employees would start to file through the front door.

Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the mahogany surface of his desk, looking towards his son and leaning further back into his chair.

"They're still talking about you two, you know," Touga drawled in an attempt to get some type of reaction out of Sesshomaru. He needed to know what was the cause for his son to be so out of character. Was it the press? The marriage? Or, more specifically, who he was married to? Touga had not spoken to Kagome in a few days, but as far as he knew, the couple had not been in immediate contact with one another since the wedding. "You've been bumped back from the front page to page five though. Seems your brother stole the lime-light."

There was no response to his comments save for a soft grunt followed by the sound of fluttering paper as Sesshomaru turned a page in his report.

Sesshomaru had barely said two words about his impromptu wedding since it had occurred a few days prior. Touga was expecting something – anything really. Getting married was one thing. Getting married, unannounced and unplanned, was another. Yet Sesshomaru continued on with his daily life like nothing had changed.

"You should talk to her," Touga commented, not taking his eyes off his elder child. "It might be better for the two of you to face this together. Maybe it would be best for you both to do an interview to clarify some of this..." He paused for a moment, waving a hand out in front of him while he struggled to find the right word. "…interesting situation."

The only answer he received this time was a simple, quietly hummed 'hn' which seemed more bored in nature than anything else. Sesshomaru closed the file that he was reading, placing it down on the couch next to him before picking up his laptop and tapping away at the keys.

Touga fought the urge to narrow his eyes. "Your brother has to come back eventually, though we can't tell exactly when that is going to be. It might be better to wait for him to come back before talking to the press…though, I can't imagine that Kagome is handling this situation well. She has unwillingly become an infamous harlot in the city of Tokyo."

This time, Sesshomaru didn't even grace his father with a response. Instead, he chose to continue typing on his keyboard as if he didn't hear Touga in the first place.

Touga rolled his eyes while shaking his head slightly. As much as he wanted to put this entire state of affairs behind him, there needed to be a point where they discussed this. Touga knew his son. Sesshomaru didn't do anything out of the kindness of his heart. Every aspect of his life was carefully planned – well most aspects of his life, anyway. He had taken after Touga in that facet. Life was like a game of chess, you needed to be two steps ahead of your opponent to come out as the victor. Sesshomaru barely knew Kagome; they had met only a handful of times over the years. So, how was it that his emotionally defecate son found it in his heart to tie himself down – in holy matrimony – to a woman that he could count the number of times he met on one hand? After all of this occurred, said son then proceeded to go about his life like the entire thing hadn't occurred.

"You know…" Touga began again, "We haven't had the chance to discuss exactly why you did this."

His statement gave Sesshomaru pause, slender fingers halting and hovering over the keys of his computer. His son flicked his glance in his direction, gold locking with gold. Sesshomaru cocked his head to the right ever so slightly. A few loose strands of silver fell over his left shoulder and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Touga could tell that he was attempting to assess exactly what he was trying to ask. What was the end game that Touga was looking to achieve with this type of statement?

After a moment of unaccompanied silence, Sesshomaru cast his gaze back towards his computer screen and continued to type.

He provided his response after another minute of pregnant stillness, "We need her company to merge with ours. The computer chips that her father invented are unparalleled within our field. We would benefit to own the company that developed these chips." The tone of his voice was flat, clearly expressing that he would rather be discussing anything other than the reasoning for his sudden change in marital status.

"I see," Touga commented offhandedly, his voice clearly displaying that he was unconvinced. He brought his palm up to cup his chin once more while balancing his elbow on the desk. His opposite hand began to drum once again on the wooden desktop. "I hope I am not overstepping my boundaries, but I find myself highly skeptical that this is the only reason why you did what you did."

Sesshomaru didn't look at his father when he answered this time, "We've avoided more of a scandal this way then if no one were to marry her. We would have lost not only Higurashi's company but the heir to that company as well."

Touga arched one elegant silver brow at his son's answer, but before he could comment, Sesshomaru continued on. "It would hurt our future business endeavors if the soon-to-be owner of one of our biggest competitors was left at the alter by your son and partial heir to your company."

It was the tone in which he used the word 'partial' that caused Touga to sniff in an uncharacteristic expression of anger.

"Well, it's not like this is the biggest scandal that we have faced over the years," Touga stated in a sharp quip, his tone leaving room for underlying implications.

As a result, Touga finally got the reaction that he was looking for. Sesshomaru's head snapped up quickly, amber eyes narrowing as he glared vehemently at his father. His lips thinned out into a pinched line, the corners curving down in a deep frown.

Touga growled softly in response, his fingers halting in their dance across his desk. "Don't give me that look, boy. How you feel about running this company in tandem with your brother is none of my concern. You will take over with Inuyasha and there will be no questions asked."

Snidely, Touga added, "How quickly you forget that you are where you are because of my hard work and assistance, not your own."

Before Sesshomaru could react or comment, Touga continued on, "If…when your brother returns," he quickly amended. "I will be stepping down. Everything that I have built, hell even this office, is going to be graciously handed to you. You would do right to ease yourself into this transition by getting to know your new partner and wife."

The slamming of Sesshomaru's laptop punctuated the end of Touga's statement. He quickly stood up and dawned his suit jacket before gathering his files. His son made a beeline for the office door, long strides allowing him to cross the room quickly.

As Sesshomaru reached for the doorknob, Touga spoke up again. "Sesshomaru," he called in a voice that commanded attention. It was a tone that he hadn't used since Sesshomaru was a child.

Sesshomaru cocked his head towards the left, looking at his father over his shoulder. The slight quirk of his eyebrow let Touga know that he held Sesshomaru's attention.

"A word of advice," Touga stated in an almost sarcastic tone. "When you speak to Kagome, especially when you ask her to come to the office in the next few days – because you are going to ask her – you might want to wear your wedding ring." Touga lifted his left hand and pointed a finger towards the golden band wrapped around his own slender digit for emphasis.

There was a slight stiffening in Sesshomaru's shoulders in response to his father's statement. If Touga deemed him tense before, he was absolutely rigid now. Sesshomaru didn't say another word before he tossed open the door and strode through the archway, not even bothering to close it behind him as he exited.

Touga pursed his lips in response for a long moment before he released a defeated breath and slouched forward, shoulders slumping. The headache that was long forgotten was slowly beginning to make itself known again.

"…Kami give me strength…" He softly commented while bringing his hands up to rub his temples.

It was going to be a long day.

-o-

"Kagome, is this the last of it?" Sango questioned from the doorway, eyeing the few boxes that were sitting by the entryway. She peered into the open containers curiously. "Where on earth did you get all of this junk from?" She questioned, holding up a necklace made out of white beads with a large purple bauble in the center.

Kagome appeared at the top of stairs in a flash of movement. "Hey," she called in a slightly exasperated tone. "I'll have you know that the necklace that you are holding is one of the best sellers over at the Sunset Shrine. It is not junk."

Sango glanced at the necklace that was pinched between her thumb and pointer fingers, then shifted her eyes toward Kagome with raised brows. "The Sunset Shrine?" She said slowly, trying to remember where she had heard of that location. It was only a short moment before Sango's face filled with recognition. "The place that you worked part-time during high school?"

Kagome hummed a note of confirmation before disappearing from the top of the stairwell. "Yes…don't you…remember?" She called in a raised voice from up in her bedroom, her inquiry coming out in short grunts as she struggled to gather up the rest of her belongings.

When Kagome had gathered her wits about her, she commented again, "We used to get dressed up for events that they used to host. How could you forget that obnoxiously tight outfit with the funny armor plates they asked you to wear one year?"

"And you had to dress up as one of the priestesses!" Sango exclaimed up towards her, laughing at the memory. "I had almost forgotten about that," she added before dropping the necklace back into the box that she had dug it out of.

Kagome reappeared at the top of the staircase, descending slowly while carrying a cardboard box that was labeled 'Books and Files'.

"Do you really think you're going to need all of this stuff?" Sango asked while reaching for the packing tape that was leaning up against one of the boxes. She held one of the containers closed with her knee, ripping a long piece of tape free from the roll with her teeth and attempted to seal the box closed.

When Kagome reached the bottom of the stairs, she placed the package down with a relieved sigh. Balling her fists together, she brought them to the small of her back, arching forward in an attempt to stretch after all the heavy lifting she had done that morning. She released a pleasured moan when she felt a series of 'pops' climb their way up her spine. After a few moments of holding the position, she relaxed with another sigh and examined all the moving containers that were in front of her with a critical eye.

"I'm not really sure what I am going to need, per say," Kagome offered in a hesitant tone. "But, I am moving into a new home and a new office. I would rather have an overabundance of my stuff rather than having to dig something out from storage in a few days." The decibel of her voice had grown quieter the longer she spoke, crystalline eyes growing slightly distant.

Sango paused in her movements of taping another box closed to look up to see the detached look on her friend's face. Her expression softened before she offered Kagome a small reassuring smile.

"You're right," She hummed quietly.

Sango looked at Kagome for a long moment, deciding that it would be best to try and distract the other woman from her current train of thought. Her friend had been increasingly withdrawn over the last couple of days, not that Sango blamed her for it. After everything that had happened, Sango was expecting Kagome to have some sort of breakdown. She had known Kagome since they were kids in middle school, anxiety was something her best friend never handled well. Stress always spread through Kagome easily, like ink on paper, consuming all of her attention.

Sango was astonished to note that the raven-haired woman didn't even bat an eye towards at her circumstances. A situation that should have ended with waterworks and despair was handled with melancholy and lack of feeling. For Kagome to remain as tight-lipped about the wedding as she had been thus far truly amazed Sango. Things had only gotten worse since the ceremony; the press was dragging Kagome through the proverbial mud. Instead of vocalizing an outcry, Kagome simply turned a cold-shoulder to the news outlets, taking the last few days to try and piece her life back together within with these ever-shifting circumstances.

To say Sango was worried was an understatement, but she knew that she couldn't force Kagome to discuss something that she was still in the middle of processing. Instead, Sango chose a different method.

Distraction.

Over the last four days, there had been plenty of old movies played, shopping trips, and takeout meals to last a year. It was the only thing that seemed to work. She would do anything to lessen the burden of Kagome's woes. She caught the lost looks, the moments where Kagome would revert in on herself. If she could ease these instances, then she would.

Cocking her head to the side in a confused gesture, copper eyes glinted with mischief as Sango cleared her throat.

"What on earth are you wearing?" Sango questioned in a tone that clearly emphasized her perplexity, though there was a hint of ill-disguised mirth mixed in.

Kagome easily snapped out of her dazed sate, blue eyes blinking slowly in an effort to clarify what she just heard. A slow forming furrow began to mar her brow, while her eyes took on an annoyed tint.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kagome questioned in a half-insulted, half-humored tone before looking down at herself. Her ebony locks were currently tied into a high ponytail in a desperate attempt to keep them out of her face while she was packing. She was wearing a white baggy shirt that was painted with a logo of an old band that she used to listen to back in high school. She had cut the neckline in an attempt to stylize the shirt and as a result, it hung off of one shoulder haphazardly. Kagome paired the t-shirt with dark denim flair jeans and pair of white slip-on sneakers.

She liked to think that her outfit was socially acceptable, or at least, to her standards it was.

"You're the biggest topic in Tokyo right now, all eyes are on you, and here you are moving into your new place looking like you just went to a really bad rock concert?" Sango probed with a smirk, her arms crossing over her chest.

Kagome growled in exasperation, "It's called being comfortable Sango. Not everyone is comfortable doing heavy lifting dressed like they are going to a job interview."

"Hey now! I left work early to help you out today," Sango exclaimed, uncrossing her arms and looking down at her own attire.

"And I am ever so grateful for your help, but don't go making fun of my outfit while you're going around carrying boxes in a button-down dress shirt and slacks," Kagome stated in amused tone before sizing the tape from her friend's grasp and bending down to adhere another box closed.

"Are those files for work?" Sango inquired, attempting to hide her humor and failing. Her plan at distracting Kagome had gone as well as she had hoped, anger was always a better reaction compared to sadness.

Kagome finished taping the box closed before standing up and nodding. "I figure it'll be best to go over them while I'm…getting settled, that way I could bring the important stuff into the office in a couple of days." At the end of her statement, Kagome turned and looked back towards the interior of her apartment.

A sudden wave of nostalgia hit her, hard.

"I am really going to miss this place," She commented towards Sango over her shoulder while taking a step further towards the middle of the living room.

It wasn't anything extravagant. A simple loft apartment with a carpeted living room that blended into a tiny ceramic tiled, open-faced kitchenette. The hardwood stairs at the entryway lead up towards a modest sized bedroom with an attached bathroom that was just big enough for one person to move around in comfortably. The only window in the whole apartment was in her bedroom, leading out to the fire escape between her building and the one next door. The walls could use a fresh coat of paint, but Kagome always thought the faded pastel blues and whites helped blanket the apartment in a cozy atmosphere.

Taking into consideration the background that she stemmed from, people who came to understand her living situation always seemed to be flabbergasted as to why she would live in an apartment complex such as this. Kagome always joked, 'Well the water pressure was just too good to pass up.' In reality, this tiny little apartment was the first purchase that she ever made on her own.

Her father's money didn't pay for the security upon signing the lease nor the monthly rent that followed thereafter. It was something that she worked for, the money that she saved up working all those summers. Her savings was actually going towards something of value. Her parents were slightly disheartened when she told them that she was moving out upon her entrance into university. She figured that the only real reason why they let her go out on her own was because her father knew that eventually, she was going to be the one to take over his company. If she wanted a few years to be out on her own, then he would allow it. As long as she maintained appearances when and where he needed her to, she was allowed to go to university and live a semi-discreet lifestyle over the next few years.

Despite certain key aspects of her life being predestined, her parents were always fair in their judgement on the decisions that she made for herself. She never resented her parents for the influence that they held over her. Kagome wasn't raised by nannies or maids, nor was she given a chauffeur that would answer her beck and call. She and her brother were raised in a household where respect was given when earned. She felt like she had a traditional upbringing, though, the size of her childhood home might have made it a little less traditional then she would have liked.

Looking around her apartment now, bare and desolate without her belongings scattered about, it this didn't feel like her home. This wasn't the apartment that she spent the last six years molding into her own private escape.

Kagome crossed her arms over her chest, tiny hands rubbing up and down her forearms attempting to chase away a nonexistent chill.

No one really knew how little they actually owned until they began to pack it up in boxes. Kagome was surprised how her entire life, the life that she began to build without the external influences of her father or his company – the life that she crafted with her own two hands – was able to fit within the trunk and the backseat of Sango's car.

She never really thought about this part of the marriage. Maybe she was too caught up in getting to the actual wedding day or maybe she was too focused on the preparations of taking over her father's company. She never put any thought into where Inuyasha and herself were going to live after they had gotten married. Most couples had already owned a home together before the ceremony. Who was going to move in with who? Knowing Inuyasha, she would have had to move into his penthouse apartment across town. There was no way that he was going to give up his home in the lap of luxury for Kagome's minuscule one-bedroom apartment.

She should have prepared for this moment, but with everything that happened during the wedding, she never put any thought into it until her mother made a comment about her living situation. They had originally been discussing the things that the papers were saying about her when the topic came up.

'It will calm down eventually," her mother had reassured. "Perhaps even more so when people see that you've finally moved in together.'

Kagome couldn't say that she was upset with the things that people were saying, but she was not nonchalant about it either. She wasn't surprised with the accusations that they threw at her. Looking at it from an outside perspective, one where there was no real information shared, she could understand their assumptions. She walked into a church engaged to one man, then walked out married to his half-brother. Instead of answering questions as to how that happened, she locked herself away.

She was neither sad nor angry – she was embarrassed. Despite the strong front she was putting on for her family and friends, the seed of embarrassment wedged itself deep in her chest. It was taking root and growing while all eyes in Tokyo were watching; attempting to figure out her love life.

She didn't even have a handle on her own love life and now it was the topic of extreme scrutiny from all angles.

This moment was a result of hasty actions without thinking of the large consequences.

It hurt to think that she had so little control over her own life at this moment. Maybe she was being hypocritical. She didn't regret what had occurred, but there were moments over the last few days that she wished her pigheadedness had not gotten the better of her. She should have thought this through, these were real life decisions with real-life consequences. When she read the note that Inuyasha had left her, she should have called everything off. He left for a reason and she should have respected that.

Look at where her actions got her now.

Packing up her tiny little apartment and moving into a home with a man who – for some unknown reason – agreed to marry her.

Sango was next to her then, humming in agreement to her earlier notion while throwing an arm around slender shoulders. "We did make some great memories in this apartment," she stated with a smile on her lips. Her chocolate orbs were directed inward, most likely reminiscing over all that occurred in the loft.

"Remember that time we ended up having a water balloon fight in here?" Sango questioned, turning towards Kagome, eyes filled with laughter.

Kagome answered with a roll of her cobalt hues before reaching up and playfully tugging on a lock of her friend's russet hair. "Yeah, my landlord wasn't too happy about that one. I blame the entire situation on you, by the way."

Kagome paused in her reprimand for a moment, bringing her pointer finger to the tip of her chin, tapping it lightly as she contemplated something.

"Isn't that the time that Miroku slipped down the stairs, bruising his tailbone?" Kagome asked, glancing towards Sango while raising a brow.

Sango stiffened, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Yes," she choked out between repressed giggles before full-blown laughter tumbled out of her throat. Her arm dropped from around Kagome's shoulder as she turned on her heel towards the entrance of the apartment. "That's called karma," She stated a sing-song voice, before she added, "Serves him right for all the derrieres he's groped over the years."

Sango bent down to pick up one of the boxes by the front door. "If I recall, he cried like a little baby, saying that someone needed to ice it for him."

It was Kagome's turn to laugh out loud at the memory, hiding her humor behind her hand as she turned to join the other woman. She bent down to retrieve the file box that she had brought down earlier. "Yeah, we had to draw straws to see who would end up doing it. Luckily neither of us did. I can still see the look on Inuyasha's face…"

Sango froze on her way out the door, glancing back towards Kagome with that look in her brown gaze. It was the same expression that she caught Sango giving her over the last couple of days. It was swimming with a mix of emotions that Kagome couldn't always read. Some of the more proponent ones were sadness, regret, and pity. Kagome really didn't know how to react when she was the subject of this type of scrutiny. It was like a heavy weight was boring down on her – suffocating her – making it harder and harder to breathe.

"It's alright Sango. It's not like he's a taboo subject. I can't exactly hide from him, his face is plastered all over the news," Kagome waved one of her hands as to dismiss the whole thing, hefting the box she was reaching for into her grasp.

Sango frowned in response, her gaze now holding a twinge of disbelief that anything in this situation could be brushed off so easily.

"Either way," Sango started in an extremely sincere voice. It was too kind. Kagome had to mentally steal herself for whatever was about to come. "You deserve better than this Kagome. You deserve better than what he did to you."

Kagome stared at her friend for a long moment before exhaling a slowly, shoulders slumping slightly. She continued through the front door of her apartment without comment, passing right by Sango. What she did might have been considered rude, but she did not want to have this discussion right now. Walking down the hallway towards the elevator, she could feel Sango's eyes boring into her back, following her every movement. Kagome fought the urge to squirm under the intense inquiry.

She waited at the end of the hall for the lift to come. It was a tensely silent few moments before Kagome's ears picked up the shuffle of someone walking down the corridor. She felt Sango's presence next to her – felt the warmth emanating off of her friend's body. With the close proximity that they now were sharing, Sango was a hard person to attempt to ignore, not that Kagome really wanted to. She just didn't really know how to perceive her friend in that moment, she felt shameful. Kagome may not have regretted her actions and where they were leading her, but she couldn't help the feeling of dishonor with what this was doing to those around her. Kagome refused to look up towards to older woman and Sango huffed a small sigh in response to the shift in mood.

"We don't have to talk about it now, but we do have to talk about what happened at the ceremony eventually," Sango murmured quietly. "You've been avoiding the entire situation for the last few days. If that is how you want to handle it, that is fine. I would never judge you for it…but now, you're about to move into a home with a man you know nothing about. This entire situation is extremely daunting and you need an outlet whether you think you do or not."

Kagome's mind flashed to an image of her silver-haired, golden-eyed husband. She had not seen Sesshomaru since the wedding. He was perfectly impassive throughout the remaining portions of the service, performing all of the duties required of him with little prompting. Even when it came to their ceremonial kiss, he didn't seem to hesitate. Though, Kagome wouldn't call what they shared a kiss. It would be better described as a greeting between old friends more than anything else.

When the time had come, Kagome's heart was beating so rapidly in her chest it was deafening, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She was surprised that no one else could hear it. It felt like it was echoing – drowning out all the other background noise. He began to lean down towards her and halfway through his decent she had closed her eyes. She didn't think she could watch this man – this stranger – finish off the ceremony that was going to formally bind them together as one.

She was surprised when she felt the brief press of lips in the corner of her mouth. It was caste, over just as quickly as it had begun. The one thing Kagome recalled was that his lips were undeniably soft where they pressed against her own.

Sango paused to take a deep breath before stating slowly, in a hushed tone than before, "I would never force you to tell me about what you're going through and I can only imagine the things that are going on in that head of yours, but when you're ready to talk about it, just know that I'm here. I'll always be here."

Kagome looked over at the taller woman from underneath her lashes. She felt the tension – that she didn't realize she was carrying – release from her shoulders, her entire body slumping forward minutely.

There was an obnoxious ding! that signaled the arrival of the elevator, breaking the moment. Sango wasted no time walking into the lift once the doors opened, though Kagome hesitated for a second, finally locking gazes with her friend.

"Thank you," Kagome whispered so quietly that she wasn't sure if Sango had heard her. It was the quick quirk in the corner of Sango's mouth that signaled she had. Kagome crossed the threshold into the elevator, cerulean hues glancing towards the numbers that began to light up, marking their descent.

Nothing else was said between the two. Right now, Kagome didn't trust her voice. Her throat was dry and any attempt to swallow in order to quell the feeling had a choking effect.

'I could do this,' She thought to herself in an attempt to gather some type of courage.

She would do this.

#sesskag #sesshomaru #sesshomaru and kagome #kagome higurashi #kagome #inuyasha #inuyasha au #say i do #Say i do chapter 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #drama #romantic fiction #non cannon #otp #my otp

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reverencerp-blog · 8 years ago

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There is no sight more pleasant to a proper Kerrari courtier than a young man and his new wife, bound together by elbows, marriage, and awkward silence. Such a wholesome, unassuming couple would bring forth nothing but great consolation to the fragile ego and social status of a seasoned noble. Unfortunately, there are not many pairings, nor individuals like this at Corusa. The reality of court is quite the opposite, actually.

CHILDHOOD, EDUCATION, AND SPRING COTILLION

Childhood at Corusa consists mostly of squabbling over whose miniature monkey or dog is the most impressive, avoiding the opposite sex at all costs, and insisting that the tutor choose another topic to bore everyone with. (Most children would much rather be causing trouble in one of the gardens, see?)

Education is the most important part of a child’s upbringing at the palace. It is not uncommon for children of the same age and noble class to take lessons in literature, calligraphy, mathematics, religion, and history together until they make their Spring Cotillion.

Preparations for a child’s Spring Cotillion—not to be confused with the Summer Cotillion—begin at age thirteen. Young Kerrari nobles are often forced to take lessons outside of their learning groups to further develop special interests in literature, musical and theatrical performance, combat, and weaponry. On the first day of each spring, Corusa hosts a showcase for all ladies and gentlemen who have or will turn fifteen that year. Spring Cotillion marks the end of childhood.

ADOLESCENCE AND SUMMER COTILLION

Most, if not all, of a young courtier’s adolescence is composed of preparations for their Summer Cotillion. Though they will not be eligible for marriage until age twenty-two, the teenagers of Corusa spend their time pursuing private lessons in their pre-developed special interests and taking courses in proper court etiquette to improve their chances of making a profitable marriage.

At this point in their lives, young men and women are kept almost entirely separate. Aside from short interactions in public settings, it is highly frowned upon for teenagers of the opposite sex to even speak to one another. Most young courtiers pass letters to the winner of their affections at public meals, though it is more common than not for these affairs to be short-lived and shamelessly dramatic.

The most powerful bonds created during adolescence are usually between members of the same sex and noble class. Some young Kerraris have an easier time getting away with romance if they’ve a preference for same-sex relationships, though they too must go to great lengths to maintain an innocent reputation. If there are any suspicions that a teenage courtier has participated in a consensual romantic relationship of any kind, it will likely be highlighted in their Cotillion play.

At twenty, young Kerraris begin the production process for their Summer Cotillion and its play. This play is one of the most important of their lifetimes, as it is performed in front of Corusa’s entire population and serves as a formal announcement of one’s marriageability. It must be an original script, drafted and composed by all who share the Cotillion. The more dramatic and flamboyantly performed the play is, the more likely young courtiers are to fall under the favor of the monarch that year.

The Summer Cotillion of one’s twenty-second year marks the end of adolescence, formal education, and obligation to refrain from interactions with the opposite sex. The king will often allow his favorite performers of that year’s Summer Cotillion to pass him his meals and shirts for a few days afterward, serving as a perfect opportunity to whisper the names of their preferred matches into his ear.

REPUTATION AND SOCIALIZING

Helping the corsair to dress, undress, eat, or defecate is one of the highest held honors at Corusa. Nobles who are lucky enough to receive his affections have a lot more power than their more unpopular counterparts, as they are more likely to become heirs to their houses or be wedded to a husband who will be an heir.

Men are the sole inheritors of titles and property within The Kerarres, so it is incredibly coveted among women to be matched with an heir-apparent. Unfortunately, Southern men are often tossed about by their fathers when it comes to inheritance, as they have the right to select an heir from all of their male relatives. This makes awaiting a betrothal almost painful for a lady—even moreso, as she has only three years after her Summer Cotillion to find a reputable, profitable match. If she goes any longer, her own reputation will be soiled beyond repair.

Your reputation at Corusa matters more than any social status ever could. Though those of lower social status are prohibited from speaking with those of a higher one without being spoken to first, more important nobles are likely to seek affiliation with well-loved members of a lower class. Men who display their wealth, sexuality, strength, and cunning are undoubtedly favored in the eyes of courtiers, as are women who are conservative, beautiful, and well-read. This is vital knowledge for forming valuable friendships and romances at court, and courtiers who choose not to conform to societal norms are often outcasted and made out to be of very little political importance.

It is not uncommon for courtiers to undermine the reputation of one another in order to make the self appear more likeable. Men and women alike partake in such behavior, and it is believed that rumors are but truth-revealing whispers from the eyes of Tir. If there is competition for betrothals, as there always is, an unsightly rumor is anything but improbable among eligible and married off courtiers alike. Some say a noble at Corusa without gossip attached to their name is more suspicious than a noble attached to the most beguiling of rumors.

Hearsay is considered a public matter at court. If there is a particularly juicy specimen of gossip making its way around Corusa, it should be expected to find itself included in that season’s Spectacle D’Corsair. At the end of each season, a great play is put on for the entertainment of the corsair. It is often written by his favorite playwright, composed by his favorite musician, and performed by the victims of timely gossip. While being cast in even just one of these plays is nothing short of a sharp pain in the ass, a wonderful show has the power to catapult a noble into court-wide popularity and desire.

MARRIAGE AND PARENTING

From the moment a child is born a courtier, his or her parents must begin planning for a decision that will determine the reputation of an individual and their house for centuries to come. A parent’s proudest day is the wedding of their child to a desirable match, regardless of how desirable that match might be to the person getting married.

Love marriages are rare at Corusa. More often than not, someone’s parents will try to orchestrate love between a young bride and groom, but courtiers nearly always complain of feeling dissatisfied with their matches. The sole purpose of a marriage in The Kerrares is to bring forth heirs from two houses who benefit one another, not to please a young, inexperienced couple. For this reason, marriage is always heterosexual in the South, though it is not particularly uncommon for one to take lovers of either sex outside of the marriage bed.

It is still highly frowned upon to share a bed with more than one person within a lifetime, so it’s rather important to keep quiet about such affairs. Unfortunately, what happens in the marriage bed is much like gossip at Corusa: public knowledge. A couple is closely watched until their marriage has been consummated, especially if they are of a high social class. Princes and princesses are even liable to lose their “virginities” in front of the corsair’s most valued advisors.

A couple is expected to announce their pregnancy after two missed menses. At this time, the husband will ask permission from the corsair to speak publicly at breakfast. Once this permission is granted and the announcement has been formally made, all courtiers who are present at breakfast must lay hands upon the mother’s growing stomach. There are sometimes so many pregnant women at breakfast that the entire ordeal takes nearly an hour, as this practice is required to take place each day until the mother is not capable of walking from her quarters to the corsair’s public breakfast. When this occurs, High Tiraic priests will turn up in her bedroom each morning to lay hands upon and pray over her until a healthy child is born.

Women of high social status usually do not choose to breastfeed. Parents at Corusa do not spend very much time with their infants at all, really. Much of parenthood is spent rehearsing for a Spectacle D’Corsair, gossiping, and strategically founding false friendships. Mothers are meant to bond with other women, as are fathers with other men. As it is uncommon for very highborn women to ever leave Corusa at all within their lives, most strong alliances between houses have their roots in the hearts of women. Men, unless they are princes, will often spend their springs and summers on hunting expeditions in the forests between Corusa and Selavaga. They do occasionally visit their seats during this time, but such dirty work is often reserved for lower nobility.

When a child is old enough to walk and talk without pissing itself, it is up to the parents to make sure their toddler is enrolled in lessons with the best tutors within their social class. Parents usually hire an additional tutor to aid in studies outside of lessons, for children who perform exceptionally well in academics are favored by the other parents. By this time, the nursemaid is usually out of the equation, and parents have a more interactive role in the lives of their children as they work to maintain young reputations and seek out potential options for friendly alliances.

DEATH

When someone dies at Corusa, the body is prayed over and touched by the hands of High Tiraic priests. A wax mold of the dead person’s face is taken to keep within the crypts of the palace and the body is stripped naked, bathed, and dressed for the funeral. If the person was a sinner who died with their eyes open, the eyes are removed so that the person will be blind in the afterlife, as Tir intended.

The spouse, parents, or eldest children of the dead will take a three day journey with the priests to the Southern coast, where the coffin will be laid upon a raft, set ablaze, and released into the sea.

Family members and close friends are given six months to mourn before returning to regular court life.

#reverencerp #previews #site buzz #jcink site #jcink roleplay

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