The Nightmare That Is Marriage

-o-

Marriage is a great institution, but I'm not ready for an institution yet.

Mae West

-o-

First Anniversary: The Samurai Wife

-o-

Kuchiki Rukia could only stare at her brother in utter shock and disbelief, the tea in front of her forgotten as she started to tremble in her seat, slowly processing the information he had just given her. "Wha... what did you just say, Nii-sama?"

The stoic Kuchiki took a long, slow sip from his own tea cup, staring at her with impassive gray eyes. "I said the elders and I have finally agreed on arranging your marriage. Be happy, the head of the royal family approached us and requested you as bride for his young son, you can be honored, Rukia."

"B-but... you can't-"

"We can and we have. Don't even think about starting a discussion. You are to meet the prince tomorrow at noon. Good bye, Rukia."

"But Nii-sama-"

"Good bye, Rukia."

The petite raven-head stood, still shell-shocked and angry. With a curt bow she turned on her heels, leaving her brother alone in the room.

Kuchiki Byakuya took another sip from his tea before turning towards the door opposite the one Rukia had taken only moments before. "Inform the king that the news have been delivered, and to tell his delinquent son to better behave himself tomorrow."

Behind the door, the servant quickly left the mansion, running off towards the quarters of the royal family, while they stayed in Seireitei.

Inside the Kuchiki house the gray-eyed man took another sip, thinking.

Should he really fear the king's son's reaction?

After all, Rukia could throw very annoying hissy fits.

Byakuya shrugged, and filled himself another cup of tea. Only time would tell.

-o-

Rukia stared blankly at the mirror, her arms outstretched as two maids fixed the formal and uncomfortable kimono on her body. It was made of dark green silk, the hem adorned by gold fabric and an eloquent, ruby rose pattern went up to her elbows and her hip, leaving her upper arms and her chest in only green and gold. Her feet were in green fabric shoes, and one of the maids fixed her hair in a high bun, as she had made it a habit of letting it grow after the Quincy war.

The woman winced when the maid put a heavy ornament made of silver and emeralds in her coiffed hair, the weight pulling at her hair, but she didn't complain, not even when the second maid stood in front of her and applied, in her opinion, too much make up on her pale face. Rukia blinked, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her skin was even paler now, courtesy to the thirty layers of creamy make up applied on her. The maid had put dark green eye shadow on her eye lids, but not as excessively as she had been with the rest of her face, the black eyeliner and mascara giving her eyes a sultry look. Her plumb lips shone with light pink lip gloss, her cheeks dusted with light pink as well. Rukia sighed. She looked like a doll.

And she just didn't do doll.

"Are you finally done?" The young Kuchiki couldn't hold back the annoyance in her voice, and the two maids quickly scrambled away, knowing she was this close to breaking point. Rukia sighed and slowly walked towards the tall mirror before her, her right hand, dwarfed by the long sleeve, came up to rest on the smooth, cold surface. Her eyes quivered, but she suppressed her tears.

So this is it?

The woman staring back at her didn't resemble her in the slightest. She was faced with a perfect samurai wife, a trophy to be shown off in public. But she wasn't an accessory, she was a warrior. She was independent, strong and stubborn. How was she supposed to hide her entire personality for the rest of her life?

She blinked her purple eyes, and took a shaky breath.

Is this really it?

Her tiny hands balled into tight fists, and she grit her teeth, glaring at her fake reflection in the mirror. "Why me?"

"Rukia."

Her gaze shot up, her angry violet eyes meeting her brother's calm gray ones in the mirror. "It is time," he said simply, and Rukia swallowed thickly, turning around to follow him out of the room, about to seal her fate.

-o-

"HOW CAN YOU JUST MARRY HER OFF TO SOME STRANGER?"

Abarai Renji's voice was furious, and for once in his life he did not care that the man in front of him could - and probably would - slice his throat clean open without breaking a sweat. Kuchiki Byakuya didn't blink as he stared at his second-in-command with impassive eyes, secretly impressed at his Fukutaichô's guts.

Albeit not pleased.

With a calm that was almost scary - scratch that, Renji thought, it definitely was scary - the clan leader put his quill on the desk, folding his hands in front of him slowly, and fixed him with a stare. "This arrangement was made for her because the groom is no stranger to her."

Red eyebrows met in a deep scowl, and he grit his teeth in anger. "What is that supposed to mean? Rukia isn't close enough to anybody to agree to an arranged marriage!"

Gray eyes regarded him suspiciously, thin lips forming a frown. "I have the inkling feeling you aren't asking out of concern for my sister, Abarai."

The older man took a secret pleasure in seeing the Shinigami's face turn just as red as his hair, the other's lips parting, as if to retort, but he closed them shut, turning on his heals and storming off towards the office door.

"Abarai."

The man in question stopped, his right hand hovering at the side of the shoji door, about to rip it open and leave.

"Do not meddle in affairs that do not concern you."

-o-

As he had thought, the red-head hadn't dared to approach them again about the matter, even though Byakuya had the suspicion his lieutenant was somewhere off in Rukon, drinking. He shrugged, mentally. As long as this entire ordeal went over without incidents he could relax at the end of the day.

They stopped in front of a large mansion, larger even than the Kuchiki's, Rukia noted bitterly, and he stared at her, intently. "Are you ready?"

The young Shinigami held her head up high, her eyes determined and challenging as she stared at the huge estate. "Do I look like I'm not?"

With that she stepped past him, and pushed the front door of the mansion open, walking towards her golden cage.

-o-

The royal elder looked up from her conversation with her brother, golden eyes fixing on the door as were the rest of the assembled clan elders, six in total, awaiting the arrival of the two Kuchiki siblings. Kimiko, a woman having retained the appearance of a mid-fifty, with black hair streaked silver, frowned at the thought of the feisty noble woman. "I cannot see reason behind my nephew's choice. His son deserves better than that."

Her brother stared solemnly. "He will have thought about it carefully, Nee-san."

The black-haired woman huffed, her eyes defiant. "He never thinks anything through, Aniki. He's just so impulsive."

"That runs in our family, Kimiko," spoke an elderly woman from the far corner of the room, the oldest living member of the clan. When she stepped from the shadows a shiver ran down the others back, as her eyes were nothing but white mirrors. She was blind. "I am sure he knows what is best for his son, don't you agree?"

The woman in front of her frowned, but bowed her head, angry. "Of course, Chiyo-sama."

In that moment the doors swung open, revealing one Kuchiki Rukia, glaring defiantly at the assembled clan elders. Behind her Kuchiki Byakuya stepped up, putting a calming, but at the same time warning, hand on her left shoulder, and the violet-eyed woman tensed, before letting out a tired sigh and relaxing, walking into the room with her brother close on her heels.

The blind elder, Chiyo, turned towards the petite woman, a smile on her aged face. "It is my pleasure, Rukia-san."

The Shinigami in question looked up at the old woman, not flinching upon meeting the blind, sightless eyes. "I am not okay with this."

Chiyo's smile didn't waver, and it started to unnerve Rukia. "Of course not."

"I won't become some trophy wife."

"I'm sure."

"I'm stubborn."

"I can imagine."

"That prince will have hell with me."

"Only serves him right."

Rukia's left eye twitched, and she was damn close to snapping at the woman, but refrained from doing so. Was this woman going to agree with everything she said? Before she could speak up again Chiyo stirred, turning her head slightly towards the small, closed door behind her, her smile widening.

No one in the room was prepared to hear a deep voice resonating throughout the chamber, furious and all-too-familiar.

"Let go of me, goat chin! This is child abuse!"

-o-

This is some sort of art trade - does writing fall under art trade? - with my boyfriend, who in turn writes a mermaid!Ichigo fic for me. We brainstormed on this together, and we came up with quite a few, if I dare say so myself, interesting ideas, both fluffy and lemony! (Trust me, I loved making him blush!)

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and if so, take the three seconds to leave a review, cuz they make me happy!

Before I get any complaints, this was mostly written before the stupid "twist" that Isshin is a Shiba and Masaki was Ryuken's cousin, and I refuse to acknowledge that stupid bullshit in my story.