Kougyoku, as a child, is no stranger to solitude.

Her first memory is of a dark room with a tiny window, a smashed vase, crushed flowers, and tears streaming down her cheeks. Maids rush in at the sound and make quick work of the mess.

Roses are scary things, Kougyoku decides. There's a trickle of red on her shin and the shimmering things all over the floor are stabbing her palm. And those words come rushing back, that flighty, forgettable phrase overheard from three court dancers a long time ago.

Wound marks can last forever.

One of the maids drops her broom and attempts to pacify her."Hush, hush, don't cry. Where does it hurt?"

The tears sting, and her chest is heavy, but the sharp pain blooming in her knee feels worse."Here," Kougyoku says, pointing to where porcelain has left its imprint below her thigh.

Practiced fingers whisk out a strip of cloth and bandage the bruise. "You poor little thing. It's okay. It's okay. The pain will go away."

Soothing words. A kind smile. But the pain doesn't stop. Kougyoku seeks the comfort of a mother's embrace. This woman is not her mother. This woman does not hug her.

"Mommy?"

The maid sighs and pats her shoulder. "Shush, the others will hear. You father will not be pleased." The forced smile cracks, giving way to worried glances towards the door.

"Get that whiny brat to shut up before the master notices!" the other snaps. "I swear the next time she tries to climb out the window I'll chain her to the bedpost!"

"You can't blame her. She's lonely. The little girl has no friends, her mother just passed away, and none of her brothers or sisters care to play with her."

The conversation of whispers comes to an end. Kougyoku finds herself alone once more, gazing out the window in silence until darkness steals in and swallows her up.

It takes years for her to understand the pitying stares. The careless taunts. The never-ending, never-ending, never-ending glares. She is a concubine's daughter, a disgrace. Fate has condemned her to a life of solitary shame, and nothing will ever change that.

On her seventh birthday, she wishes to have wings and fly far away. On her eighth birthday, she wishes to disappear like the mist.

Kougyoku is almost nine years old when she moves to the palace, up those great marble steps and past ornate doorways. It's enormous, with hallways that stretch on forever and more people than she has ever seen in her life. Her first instinct is to fling herself into a dark room and make a safe haven out of the emptiness. But before she can slip away, a thick raven braid catches her attention. It belongs to a pale-skinned boy in flowing robes, with a scowl on his otherwise aloof features and a pair of...red eyes? He looks rather scary…until she notices the men surrounding him. They're all clad in black and their faces are completely covered except for the eyeholes. One of them notices her and the weight of his glare makes her shudder. In that moment, curiosity makes way for a feeling far more intense.

Terror. Bone-shaking terror. A sea of black flies out, shooting up the walls, the ceiling, engulfing everything. Cold, hollow noise grabs her ears and she can't breathe, she can't speak, she can't see. She can't feel her limbs, and she can't escape — she can't even move —

It's the end. It's the end. I'm going to die! Please, someone help...me...

The moment passes, and the man averts his menacing gaze. The strangling voices fade and the burning in her throat is gone. For now, the darkness has chosen to spare her.

Unsure of what else to do, she bows low as the men walk away, robes billowing in nonexistent drafts. She's so utterly relieved to be able to breathe again that she misses how the mysterious boy gives her one last puzzled glance before turning the corner.

It's barely a week afterward that another stranger barges into her life. His name is Ka Koubun, and his stated mission is to help her make something out of herself.

"Don't you want to become someone great? Do you not wish to become someone worthy of your title?"

"Someone great?" The stranger's mouth is like a spewing volcano, and she doesn't understand half of what he's saying. How could a lowborn like her amount to anything?

"You are an imperial princess! But no one will recognize you if you act like this. What you need is more effort!"

"Effort?"

"Why, indeed! In order to attain a higher position, you must work your way up. I, Ka Koubun, shall lend my assistance in your quest. With my help you will reach heights beyond your imagination! Soon, very soon, all will bow before the might of the future chief minister, the great Ka Koubun! You will be the perfect pawn — ah no, that went wrong — I mean, the perfect princess. Take my hand, Your Highness! Together, nothing is beyond our reach!"

Should she trust this person? He seems a little...frightening, somehow. But no one ever noticed her before. No one said she had a chance. And no one...was this talkative.

At least I won't be so lonely.

Hesitantly, she reaches out a shaky hand to grasp his. Her new attendant's skin is rough and calloused, but it's warm. In that very moment, Kougyoku ceases to be the timid girl who hides under tables and shies away from human contact. Finally, someone grips her tight and drags her away from a lifetime of unending night.

The boy with a thick braid, she later finds out, is a powerful being called a magi.

"What's a magi, Ka Koubun? I remember father would sometimes invite magicians to predict our family fortunes. One of them read my palm and said my future would be tied to the sea and filled with many tears. I don't really understand what he meant back then, but is that boy like those people?" Kougyoku asks one afternoon during a lull in her daily etiquette lessons.

Ka Koubun clears his throat and delves into a lengthy discussion about the nature of magic and the role of magi in the world.

"In fact, your brother Prince Kouen is a dungeon conqueror!" he exclaims, as if it were tantamount to owning the earth.

"Really? Kouen-oniisama is truly amazing!" She wonders if she could do it too. She isn't scared of the dark like her sisters are, but is that enough? She is too weak, too easily frightened by strangers, too prone to running away and staying out of sight. Could she ever have the strength it takes to step into such a fearsome place?

"Ne, Ka Koubun, do you think I could capture a dungeon if I tried really hard?"

"Wh-what? Capture a dungeon? Absolutely preposterous! Capturing a dungeon is a feat! Hundreds of strong and capable men have tried in the past, but very few made it back alive!"

"I guess I'm no match for them, after all." Her face falls and she can't quell the feeling of worthlessness that bubbles up inside.

"Of course not," Ka Koubun quickly amends, as though sensing the change in mood, "I'm not saying you're weak. You just need...uh...training! Yes, training in the art of swordsmanship. Fortunately, I, Ka Koubun, am quite skilled at swordplay, for I was taught by my late father who was no less than a general of the army."

"Eh? I thought you said your father was a merchant who sold elephants?"

"No, he was a...a farmer...who worked as a merchant...after he retired from military work ...because the crew ship he was on was attacked by pirates...but he defeated them all single-handedly, took their loot, and invested in the ivory trade!"

She's at least ten different versions of that story by now; his father was a lion-tamer, a snake-charmer, governor, priest, jeweler, and just about any profession under the sun. She doubts he did any of those things, but he must have been a wonderful person for Ka Koubun to talk about him that much. If only she had more stories to tell about her own father.

"Great men like him are never forgotten."

Something in those words, something in his voice, something great and fragile entrances her. It swirls around within her reach and she has only to grasp it now, right now, or this rare chance at something will slip back into the dark where she can never find it. She truly wants to catch this wisp of a thing, but the net of her fingers is so small, and the only thing bigger than her hands is her tiny voice.

"C-could you teach me?" There, her voice is fighting, she can't fight yet, but her voice can start. "I want to learn how to fight! Just like Hakuei-neesan! Please, Ka Koubun?"

Her guardian sends her an amused look. "Hmm...perhaps I can show you the basics, but only when you're older and have finished your other lessons. Speaking of which, let us return to rule number 47: When holding a spoon, never let —"

The rest of the session proceeds as usual, yet Ka Koubun's words have ignited a spark in the young princess' heart.

I wonder what it's like...to be a warrior of the Kou Empire. Maybe others won't look down on me so much. And maybe I can finally be useful to everybody!

It's a cool summer afternoon when she has her first conversation with the young magi. One minute she's about to bite into a juicy peach and the next thing she knows, it's flying out of her grasp.

"It's flying! My peach is actually flying!" She watches in wide-eyed shock as it floats in a circle around her head then straight across the room and into the hands of a laughing boy. Only it's not just any boy. It's the oracle of the Kou Empire. Hair dark as braided midnight, eyes the color of blood, and an aura that suffocates.

Fear grips her in its clutches.

"Ju-Judar-san?" she ventures, forgetting to run away instead. "You're the magi of Kou, right?"

His only response is to stare at her, hard and cold. That piercing red still unnerves her, but she fights the chill running down her spine.

At last he relents and graces her with a smirk. "Of course. I am the great magi Judar. And you?" His tone is pure winter's chill. But somewhere she detects an undercurrent of deep loneliness.

This person, is it possible, that he's just like me?

This is the first time she's ever spoken with a child her age though, and sheer nervousness robs her of her voice.

Noticing her hesitation, the boy begins to frown. "Huh? What's wrong with you?" He stares at her, curiosity in full force. "Oh I get it. You're in amazed to be in the presence of such an awesome magician that you've forgotten how to speak. Why, even a baby could do better than you!"

"I'm the—" The what? The lowborn princess? The commoner's daughter? An untouchable?

"What? Hurry up and get on with it already!"

"I-I'm the ei-eighth princess of the Kou empire, Kougyoku," she chokes out. "It's a pleasure to meet you — hey!" She bites down an unladylike squeak. Magi or not, that boy bit into her peach!

"That's my—" she catches herself, suddenly afraid to continue. Oh no! Father will be so angry! This is the great magi, and I am just...just...

"Your peach? Ha! I ate it first, so it's mine, slowpoke! You should have seen your face earlier when you thought the peach was flying! That mouth of yours was open so wide you looked even uglier than an old hag!" Here we go again. More insults. More cruel laughter. But it's a little different. It's like his expression is a little softer than before.

"Hey, Old Hag!"

"I'm n-not an old hag!"

"Yes you are, 'cause I say so! Now, if you really want your peach back, climb one of those trees in the orchard and help yourself to one."

"But I can't climb!"

"That's your problem!"

"Then...then...I'll do it if you teach me!"

"What? Why should I do that?"

"Because, if I learn how to climb, then I can get you more peaches!"

Turns out, the insufferable magi doesn't know how to climb either. Several frustrating attempts, words of encouragement on her part, nasty retorts from him, and a couple of bruises later, he flies up, attacks a branch with clusters of fruit and takes care of their meal.

"Ne, can I call you Judar-chan?" Kougyoku asks while munching happily on her second peach.

"Whatever you want, Old Hag."

He scowls and she giggles and the lonely magi and the lonely princess become something better than strangers that day.

True to his word, Ka Koubun spares no effort to teach Kougyoku the ways of the court. The lessons are exhausting, but her new-found determination pushes her forward. She trades her dolls for historical accounts, and devours volumes on poetry, etiquette, and courtly functions. She can't give up now.

Free time is scarce, and she spends it in the garden talking to flowers, catching grasshoppers, feeding goldfish, chasing dragonflies, with the occasional visit from Judar and his bag of pranks. And even if it means suffering his constant teasing or crude remarks, though she huffs and she puffs when he finds yet another way to rile her up, life is good. At the very least, she no longer desires to blend in with the curtains or vanish into thin air.

"Hey, Old Hag!"

A scream echoes down the corridor, and the attendants shake their heads. The commotion is obviously the result of the esteemed magi being his rash and obnoxious self.

Kougyoku's heart races in her chest, her fingers slip on the guzheng. Dear Judar-chan must really enjoy popping out of nowhere just to give her the fright of her life.

"Judar-chan! You scared me!" She wants to strangle him. Really.

"My, my, what do we have here? The Old Hag thinks she can play music! So it's you who's behind that dreadful noise! Want the whole palace to go deaf, huh? I bet the former emperor is cringing in his grave right now! Don't be surprised if his ghost comes to haunt you tonight!"

"Hey! Stop being so rude! I'm not that bad...am I?" A tear trembles at eyelid's edge. I worked so hard practicing this piece. My fingers are sore and I'll surely have a stiff neck tomorrow, yet I still can't get it. Is there even anything I can do right?

She had tried her hardest to impress him, and he dismissed her efforts as a nuisance. Perhaps it would be better to give up after all.

Judar shrugs. "Just forget it, okay? Besides I learned a new trick that I've been dying to show you all morning."

"Eh, another one?" She's torn whether to feel wary or enthusiastic. In her experience, most demonstrations of his magic powers end up with her in tears or cowering behind her sleeves. "I do hope it's not as dreadful as shooting up ten feet in the air. Please, spare me a heart attack."

"Nope, this time it's even better than flying! Allow me to present...another Kougyoku!" With a flick of his wand, a burst of light shoots into a nearby fountain.

"What happened? And what do you mean by another-" Her eyes nearly double in size because unbelievably, hovering inches above the fountain is an exact replica of herself, hairpin and all. The fake Kougyoku even mirrors her very movements.

"Th-that's me! How did you — how is it possible—"

Before she gets thoroughly creeped out, Judar stretches out his wand once more and the figure reverts into a blob of water trickling down into the fountain.

"See! Quite a neat trick, isn't it? Definitely much better than fooling around with that silly harp thing."

She can't help but nod in agreement as her companion rants on and on about how wonderful his powers are. Boast piles upon boast, until she wonders if he ever realizes how deep his insecurities go.

"'Tis merely one of the million perks of being a magi. Want to know another one?"

Such an attention whore. But she can't imagine him any other way.

The path to becoming a real princess is more difficult than she first thought. The ministers ignore her. The wagging tongues don't stop. Everywhere, every time, everything, she's compared to her sisters. There's no end to this daily ordeal of her heart ripping apart and her rushing to stitch back the missing seams. It's not enough, never is. The wasps poke her eyes day after day, and the strain bears down till she's just baby steps away from broken.

It is in this state that Judar finds her. He has just returned with Kouen, who is in high spirits from conquering his third dungeon.

"Crying sucks. It makes you even uglier than you already are, Old Hag," he says, profoundly crass in ways she never thought she needed. "What did those fools say this time? Want me to kill them off for you?"

The dam breaks, raw emotions spill out. "Judar-chan, they — they compared me to Hakuei! They didn't notice…I was hiding…they…called me weak and useless! I'll never be strong like her! I'll never be elegant like her! I'll never be perfect! After all this time nothing has changed! Everyone sees me as trash — even father!"

He frowns. "Still letting those scum dictate your life? Don't listen to those lies. You're strong, Kougyoku!"

Her sobbing grinds to a halt. With each gentle pat on her shoulder, her trembling body stills. She raises her head and furiously wipes away tears. Judar-chan thinks I'm…strong?

"You can be a warrior," he continues, and embers of a half-forgotten dream flare to life.

"You're strong," he repeats, and Kougyoku knows those words will be etched into her memory for the rest of her life. "Those who think otherwise are the weak ones." His hand is outstretched, and she reaches forward tentatively. It's the first time, the first time she ever dares touch him. His fingers are softer than Ka Koubun's, slightly sticky with peach juice. Why isn't she surprised?

Judar is ice and darkness. He's quicksand, cruel and dangerous, the cause of ninety percent of the scrapes she gets into. Yet right now he's here for her and that is enough.

Years later, the seed that was planted bears fruit. She bears the title Eighth Princess Ren Kougyoku with pride. Any fear or hesitation, any trace of that scared little girl are safely tucked behind flowing sleeves, away from prying eyes. She may never become the pride of the court, however, she's no longer its disgrace.

Judar is growing up too. Some days his eyes are soulless; other times his voice seems to belong to someone else. He's a pendulum, swinging, laughing, so huge and so wild, seeking out the brightest stars that he came from, somewhere she can't reach, and the thought scares her. Maybe he's losing it. Maybe she is. Maybe they were both already lost to begin with.

In the oscillating leap of time, there are memories that stand out among the bleary haze of the rest.

"Who is that long-haired man the chancellor is speaking with?" she inquires the day a great caravan is heralded at the palace gates.

"No less than the king of Sindria, Sinbad, ruler of the seven seas," replies Ka Koubun, whose curiosity is piqued by the strangers behind the gates.

"Is he really that amazing?"

"Considering he was the one to establish his country and lead it to prosperity, my answer would be yes."

Kougyoku knowledge of foreign monarchs is rudimentary at most , but if that man can impress Ka Koubun, then he must be a great person worthy of everyone's respect. This occupies her mind until noon, when a voice startles her during one of her art lessons.

"You must be the lovely Kougyoku-hime."

It's the voice of a leader. The voice of a warrior. She hasn't even seen his face up close; already sheer charisma draws her in.

"You're King Sinbad!" she gushes.

The king smiles, sending her knees knocking into each other. There is only so much you can conceal behind your sleeves, and Kougyoku hopes the warmth blooming in her cheeks is one of them.

Judar, who has spent the last half hour splattering her paint, scoffs from his corner, but he can't hide the twisted excitement on his face.

The next day, he sets off with Hakuei to capture a dungeon. She comes back a general, much stronger than before. In the younger princess' eyes, Hakuei has just outdistanced her by leagues of azure horizon, leaving her a foot or two deeper underground.

She's growing tired of fighting destiny. She will never, never be as good as her sisters or her brothers or her cousins or any royals in the palace. The sharp decline of her enthusiasm alarms Ka Koubun, who now sprinkles her days with frequent reprimands. Meanwhile, she devotes her waking hours to thinking. No, not daydreaming — thinking. And fencing. Fighting and not-not-not-not falling in love. These days, she frequents the royal gardens, more often than not with a dreamy sigh on her face. If the palace servants ever thought her queer, their suspicions increase tenfold.

One random morning just after the first sighting of dawn, a magi magicks away her window and sails into the room.

"Is there something you need, Judar-chan?" she asks, quite irritated. She's halfway finished applying make-up and wet hair is all over the place.

He's grinning like an idiot. She doesn't know whether to take that as a good sign.

"Hey Old Hag! Wanna capture a dungeon with me?"

Either this is an extremely rare coincidence, or the universe is playing a cruel joke on me, Kougyoku tells herself, sweating and gasping for breath after the ordeal. Apparently, the dungeon belongs to Vinea, maiden of sorrow and isolation. Judar-chan probably suggested it to humor her. Or maybe he was simply very, very wise.

In the aftermath, said magi floats down on his carpet, draping the white cloth round his neck in one graceful sweep. He stalks forward and pats her head in an affectionate gesture. "Told ya you could do it, Old Hag!"

"Ah, Judar-chan! You're ruining my hair!" Kougyoku's embarrassed and her fingers still tingle, but the smirk on his face appears genuine, devoid of mockery or malice.

Back at the palace, she's greeted by Kouha's signature blood-curling grin. "Now you're a dungeon conqueror, too," he beams proudly. There's that ever-present hint of insanity in his tiger shark gaze. She thanks him nevertheless.

It's past midnight and Kougyoku is wide awake with excitement. Thanks to Judar's and Ka Koubun's help, she's one step closer to her dream. No longer will she known as the whore's daughter. She's the eighth princess, the fourth dungeon raider of the royal family. She can't wait to meet father; he'll surely see her in a new light from now on. Maybe even her stepmother the queen will be pleased. Giddy with excitement, she clutches her hairpin within the folds of her dress and hangs on with all her might.

In retrospect, she has always been a bit too naive.

A year later, she's in the middle of a little reverie that does NOT involve a certain island nation's purple-haired king, when a servant calls her inside. Her father has summoned her to the throne room for unknown reasons.

It comes as a complete surprise. She can count with the fingers of one hand the number of times he acknowledged her existence, often as an afterthought, and she's not in a hurry to live through one more.

The hallway towards the throne room had never felt this long. Her heart's racing a mile a minute with every step. Inhale, exhale, you can do this. You're strong. What is a common throne room compared to a dungeon?

The door opens. Mustering all her courage, she fills her lungs to the brim and steps inside. She strides forward with measured steps, bearing herself like a queen.

"I have come, Your Highness."

At her side is Ka Koubun, who is obviously satisfied with the result of his training. Her voice emanates confidence suited for her regal status. She looks the emperor square in the eye without flinching. Even the ever stoic crown prince Kouen looks impressed.

Emperor Koutoku rises from his throne. "My child, you have proven your worth by capturing a dungeon. I applaud your bravery."

Is this a dream? Please, don't let it be a dream! For the first time, Father actually praised me!

Chiding herself for the momentary loss of composure, she holds her breath as the emperor utters his next words.

"Perhaps you wonder why I summoned you here."

His expression shifts. Narrowed eyes unmask the true ruthlessness of his heart. It takes all of Kougyoku's willpower not to cower in the heat of his stare. In a blink, the image of Koutoku as a proud father dissipates, and Koutoku the emperor emerges in its place. Cruel, unforgiving, bending to the will of none. To enemies, horrible. To allies, powerful. To his daughter, a stranger.

"I have a task for you to accomplish. Will you do it?" His tone is calm, yet Kougyoku feels the invisible dagger twisting at her throat. When she replies, it's not out of respect, or an eagerness to please, but fear.

"Anything you require, Your Majesty."

"Very well. Have you heard of the kingdom of Balbadd?"

"Yes, father. It is a flourishing country by the sea, a center for trade visited by merchants from all nations," she replies without skipping a beat.

"Indeed. It is my wish to form a treaty with Balbadd. As is the custom, in order to facilitate such negotiations, a marriage into the royal family must take place. And the best candidate is none other than you."

No, no, never!

Please.

Her world comes to a standstill. If only she could faint right here, send her soul to oblivion. The palace may not be ideal, but it's her home. She hasn't even achieved her dream of serving in the army. How could she be ready for a political marriage?

"It is final!" he barks out, too consumed by ambition to notice how his daughter's heart breaks with every syllable. "A month from now, you shall set sail for Balbadd to marry King Ahbmad Saluja."