The wind blew fiercely underneath Nagisa's many skirts, making him cringe from the cold rushing up to lick at his mostly unshielded behind. House Akabane's extensive lands were in a far more temperate climate, but this was the halfway point between their two spheres of influence. The perfect space to make an exchange, for Nagisa to surrender everything about his past life, including his own free will.

Nagisa didn't like the way the man under Akabane's banner was looking at him. He was a lot taller than Nagisa, though that wasn't saying much, and used his superior height to look down at him. His gaze wasn't violent, in fact if anything it was too kind. Catching Nagisa's direct line of sight, he licked his lips suggestively. Perhaps his disguise was too convincing.

"Time for the ceremony," Irina, his handmaiden, whispered into his ear. "This is the hardest part."

He didn't know much about Boy Lord. There were the political facts, of course, the things every good nobleborn child was taught. Nagisa knew that Lord Akabane, Karma, would have a long list of expectations for his future wife. He knew that his parents had both been fierce warriors, the unfortunate turn of one battle rendering him the man of the house at just eleven years old. He knew that they were almost the same age. But, Nagisa knew nothing of his personality, nothing except hearsay of violence and exploits. Irina said he was very lucky to now be pawned off to some old, rich Lord, ninety percent of the way to death already. For Nagisa, that would have meant a shorter time in captivity.

Not that he was intending to be married to Lord Akabane for long, of course.

"May I present Lady Nagisa of House Shiota," one of his father's servants announced proudly.

One of the Akabane men, thankfully not the one staring him down, stepped forward. "Karasuma," he bowed. "I am the Lord's personal bodyguard, and will therefore serve you as well. It is with regret that the Lord is not able to greet you here himself today."

Nagisa curtseyed in respect, a movement he'd been learning since he could walk. He wanted to politely thank the man for his kindness and warm greeting, but that wasn't appropriate as the bride to be. That was what his father's guard was there to do, to be his voice. Nagisa didn't even get to sign his own name on the marriage documents.

The man, Karasuma, sighed exaggeratedly to himself. "No need to waste time. We'll go on with the ceremony. Lady Nagisa," he gestured him forward.

"Pardon!" Irina stepped up, eyes wild with danger. "I must protect my lady's virtue!"

The man who'd been eyeing Nagisa laughed. "Get over it, slave. It's custom."

Nagisa glanced nervously at her. They could lose everything here. It was common, in the western kingdoms, for the bride to be cleansed of their old lives in the Hand Over. For royalty that would probably mean a bath, but it seemed they were skipping that step. Still, Nagisa would have to completely strip in front of these strangers, and that would be a huge problem, as they'd surely notice his definite masculinity.

"Our customs must be respected too," Irina pushed. "For a group of men to see a Noble Lady naked may as well be the loss of her virtue."

He snarled. "Who let this bitch speak?"

Nagisa's guard cleared his throat. "Forgive this servant. She was a foreign whore, and forgets herself. However, she does speak the truth of our customs."

Karasuma held a hand up towards the other man, silencing him. "If Lady Shiota wishes to get changed in her carriage, then it will be permitted."

He didn't wait for him to change his mind. Nagisa dipped his head politely, and then climbed back into the carriage. Women's clothes were so fiddly, he'd been wearing them constantly for almost a year now as this contract was drafted and negotiated, and he still wasn't used to it. For once, he was almost glad that Irina climbed in to help him.

"Nagisa," she said, closing the door behind her, "that was a good performance."

He did his best to hide his flush. "I only did as we practised."

Irina smirked. "Our plan is in motion. These clothes are disgusting, though."

They were… certainly plain. Nagisa knew that House Akabane was frighteningly rich, their lands stretching out to the ocean, allowing them to trade spices and other goods. Far richer than anywhere Nagisa had visited himself, anyway. But the gown Nagisa had worn looked of far greater value than the grey and almost shapeless robes presented to him. Was this supposed to be an insult?

Once Irina helped him slip them on, however, he discovered that they were practical. He could move freely in them, and the fabric was breathable. His handmaiden seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she reached into the chest, producing the knife Nagisa had been training with since early adolescence, concealed in its sheath.

"Eastern steel is far superior," she said, reaching under the skirt to strap it to his thigh, concealed from sight. "Westerners make their blades more durable, but, well," Irina smirked, "you'll kill with the first blow."

Nagisa flinched, as she removed the ties from his hair. They, too, counted as foreign property. He hated the way his hair looked when it flowed freely, though it did add to his femininity. There was nothing in the carriage to show him his reflection, but he knew he would have hated it. At least the cool metal now fastened to him was a reminder of what he needed to do.

"Just remember," she said lowly, "just a few more weeks, and we'll both be free. You'll get to be Lord Nagisa, to claim your birth right."

He nodded, and exited the carriage again. Karasuma's eyes raked over him from head to toe, showing no other emotion as he gestured towards their own carriage. Though it went against all he'd promised to himself, he allowed himself one moment to turn his head back, looking at the carriage and his guard and his old land for one last time.

The guard lowered his head, his eyes showing a hint of sadness and regret. If all went well, then perhaps Nagisa would see him again. For now, though, he had to play his part. He turned back, lowered his head once again, and approached the area in which Karasuma and his men were standing. He didn't see any carriages waiting around for him though.

"Your horse," Karasuma gestured.

Irina rushed forwards, hiking her skirt up to travel more quickly. "Where's the carriage?!"

He didn't seem too bothered at her protests. "There is no carriage."

"You expect us to ride?" She looked as though she was about to explode. "My clothes- I mean, my Lady's clothes

"It's okay," Nagisa spoke finally. A part of him was excited. He hadn't been allowed to ride since he was a young boy, and he missed the rush of horseback.

One of the other men promptly placed down some wooden steps, and assisted Nagisa in mounting the horse. Since he was still relatively short, it felt amazing to be so high up above the world. Irina still complained of course, complaining about her satin as she took her own ride. Honestly, Nagisa begun to understand the appeal of the new clothes. His old gown would have been far to restricting to allow a comfortable ride. So this was how they functioned in the Western Lands.

He wanted to speak up, when one of the men moved to lead his horse on foot. But he did hold his tongue. It wasn't typical for a noble born lady to know how to ride. He wasn't exactly in a hurry to meet his betrothed, anyway. There were still days until the wedding, where Nagisa would have to play the nice and obedient guest, and he wanted to keep that period of time as short as possible.

Even as a child, Nagisa had never really been outside the own safe boarders of his home. He hadn't seen vast oceans and forests and rolling hills with his own eyes, only in books and paintings. It was mostly just fields and a few trees dotted around, but it was still exciting. He wondered where they were going to sleep for the night, since the journey to this point had already taken five days.

When the sun went down, he found out, when their group finally came to a stop. Nagisa was about to question it, when tents were erected with quick precision, like they'd done this many times before. He'd never slept in a tent, like a soldier. Irina had, by the looks of it, and she didn't seem happy.

"We'll ride on in the morning," Karasuma said, "the weather will be fine. I'll be posted outside all night."

Irina practically dragged him inside, sending the man an incredibly dirty look. There wasn't a lot either of them could discuss, the thin material the only barrier. Nagisa wasn't provided with any other clothes, either, and so he ended up just curling into a ball. He definitely wasn't about to try and share body heat with Irina, turning around before she could even suggest it.

They rode on for four more days. By the second, Nagisa's butt was starting to get sore, and soon became almost unbearable pain. At this rate, Nagisa wouldn't be able to sit at his own wedding feast. The only thing distracting him was the sea, the vastness and scent of it baffling him. They passed through fishing village after fishing village, each one bigger than the last. It was unlikely any of the people living there would have seen his portrait, so nobody spared him more than the odd glance.

Eventually, it made way for bigger harbours, and then suddenly they were riding into an almost hilariously over militarised fort, compared to the rest of its surroundings. But he supposed the late Lord did die in combat. Really, Nagisa was just relieved when his horse was lead through the huge gates, and gentle slowed to a stop. Before he really even had time to react, one of the men had his arms around him, lifting him down onto the ground.

There didn't seem to be much pomp and circumstance to their arrival. A few servants stopped in their motions, but none were lined up to greet him. Still, Nagisa smoothed out the skirt, and tilted his head up, looking towards the door. Karasuma, who Nagisa had come to realise was respected by everyone, cleared his throat, as though he was about to say something.

Before he could, the door was abruptly banged open, and then Nagisa met eyes with his future husband. In an objective sense, he could admit that the young lord could be considered handsome, from the one portrait he'd seen. This was not handsome. He looked angry, eyes a wild fire, almost like a boar. Stopping after a few paces, he held Nagisa's gaze, and his eyes opened up a little wider. If they hadn't been so doused in fury

Karasuma bowed, though Nagisa suspected that was purely on custom and not respect. "My Lord. Glad to see you didn't get yourself killed in my absence."

He held his glare. "Not for lack of trying."

Regaining his posture, Karasuma nodded. "May I introduce Lady Nagisa of House Shiota."

Very quickly, Nagisa realised he was a fish out of water. All his lessons, years of preparation, may as well be useless. The only charms he'd learnt were suited to the prim and proper, the type of lord who just wanted a silent yet aesthetically pleasing incubator for his heir. Nagisa got the feeling that none of that would work here.

"Couldn't you give her a better dress?" The lord said, eyeing Nagisa up and down as if he were a pile of horse manure.

Karasuma sighed. "You didn't want to send the carriage, My Lord."

He shrugged. "I'm surprised she even got on the horse."

Nagisa wanted to yell out that he was there, in case everyone else had forgotten. He understood it, though. Even impersonating a girl, he looked weak and frail. Not the type to put up with such a long journey on horseback. But that didn't really matter. It wasn't like he was going to be expected to do more than sit around this castle.

The young lord came a little closer. "You don't look like your portrait."

He choked on his air. Of course, Nagisa didn't doubt that. Even after having to pose for it for hours, he'd barely looked at it when it was finished. The outfit had been his mother's choice, naturally, and made him even more feminine than usual. Even if that was the point. He just turned away, and like -that it was approved and shipped off to just about every unmarried lord in the known world.

Was it appropriate to reply? Though Nagisa was sure he wouldn't be immediately sent away in shame, he didn't want to take any risks so soon. Success here meant his knife buried in Lord Akabane's heart. Nagisa couldn't do that without getting close, and the only way that could happen was if they were married.

"Neither do you," Nagisa lowered his head and half bowed, before meeting his eye, "My Lord."

A part of him half expected swords to be drawn, but instead a glint came across The Lord's eyes. He hadn't been lying, those eyes looked brown in the painting. In reality, their colour was almost molten gold. Oddly enough, it seemed the anger was dropped, though Nagisa could tell there was something going on there.

"Let's get you inside," a woman cleared her throat, stepping in to break up the tension.

They continued to maintain eye contact, as a flurry of servants came out to grab his things. Irina had warned him not to get attached, had said that Nagisa didn't have experience in this kind of thing, and his heart could easily swayed. Maybe this character he was playing was beginning to convince even her. He knew though, looking straight into his betrothed's pupils, that nothing would change his plans. As if on cue, he inhaled sharply, turning away from Nagisa like he just got bitten.

That was all for their introduction, it seemed. Like that, he was back inside the castle, and Nagisa was left with a group of servants he didn't know. He had Irina of course, but if he actually referred to her as a servant he would probably be executed by her on the spot. His handmaiden hadn't been forced to sacrifice all her belongings from home, at least, so a few servants rushed forward to take it. Nagisa just had himself.

Realising that he was supposed to follow, Nagisa tentatively took pace behind the woman, one of the more senior servants perhaps. The castle wasn't the warmest looking of places. Most people decorated their homes at least, as a show of wealth. And Nagisa knew this place had a lot of wealth. The lack of much of anything reminded him of his own home.

Just like the dress he was given, his chambers were just as grey and boring, practical. Though, Nagisa supposed logically there wasn't too much reason for anyone to decorate it for him. With his wedding day soon approaching, he'd be moved to the lord's room pretty quickly. The servants only gave him a quick explanation, that they'd come back to bathe him before the celebratory feast, and what Nagisa presumed was normal welcoming stuff.

Unlike most people of his station he hadn't been much of anywhere before. He'd never even left the walls of his own home unless he was in a dress and forced to keep quiet about it. It had taken Nagisa a while of course to realise that this was odd. That he was a boy so why were the servants dressing him up like a girl. They'd hushed him of course, eyes darting round the corners as if they were very afraid.

His mother couldn't get to him here. Nagisa was surprised, honestly, because she couldn't control him now he'd been sold off. Evidently the Akabane soldiers and money were more important. But now he had some kind of prospect, rather than just moping around his home. That meant he couldn't be careless, as much as he hated this entire façade. He should probably reject the offer of help with bathing.

Irina waltzed off to her own chambers as soon as she couldn't, which Nagisa expected, and meant he was finally alone. There really wasn't a lot to do, even if the typical feminine hobbies were to be considered. He ended up sitting down by the mirror. Nothing new laid out for him, of course. Looking around the room, he managed to produce a bit of string, and he didn't waste time tying his hair back up. Nothing fancy of course, not on his own, he just gathered it at the back in a ponytail.

He couldn't help but feel like it was dangerous here. The way that man had looked at him for the last few days, the uneasy environment here, all of it seemed like a thousand disasters waiting to happen. Of course, a part of Nagisa knew it was very possible for him to die here, no matter what. It wasn't like he was unrealistic.

Eventually the servants did come in, with warm bathwater, though he dismissed them almost immediately. It was nice, at least, to wash the grime of such a long journey from his skin. He'd have loved to fall into bed after that, but then Irina was at his door, holding a brand new gown and embellishments. Yes, he had a feast to get to.

Neither of them said much to each other as she begun getting him dressed. It was an uncomfortable routine for the both of them, and always had been, since the day she even became his handmaiden a year ago. Maybe it was because they were no longer in his own home, but something seemed different. For such a formal occasion, it usually took longer to get his dress on.

"What's this?" Nagisa hissed, finally catching his own reflection.

She shrugged, moving to pin his hair up properly. "I was just told the lord requested it."

It was scandalous. Practically stuck to his skin, there wasn't a lot left to the imagination. He was lucky such a tight garment had just enough room in it to not expose his secret to everyone. Still, there wasn't that much material elsewhere. He'd seen prostitutes wear more. Why was this a request, exactly? To show him off to their banquet guests? His fiancé had basically called him ugly during their interaction, so Nagisa was sure the most obvious reason wasn't it.

Even Irina couldn't hide it well. She laughed, and not in a friendly way.

"I can't go out like this!" Nagisa protested, the pitch of his voice raising in agony.

She looked him dead in the eye, turning far more serious. "You've come so close. I don't care if that brat wants you to cartwheel in your underwear whilst the entire country watches, you'll do it because we are this close to our freedom," she squeezed her fingers together, to accentuate the point. "The more he desires you the better, anyway. Makes your job easier."

Nagisa's gaze dropped to the floor. "I don't think there's much desire involved."

"Make him, then." She muttered something under her breath. "You know what you have to do, there's no way out of it now. So," she spun him around, checking his appearance over a final time, "go steal his heart. Then you can put a knife through it."

Their preparation time was up. It was time to attend his engagement feast, a hearty celebration to welcome him and mark the beginning of official preparations for the wedding. It was hard to feel like he wasn't walking straight into a funeral, though he kept his head poised up, and tried not to flush under the stares his attention was getting him even from the servants, as he made his way towards the banquet hall.