This last chapter is dedicated to TheLadyKnight because if it weren't for her exceptional deal making abilities, this chapter wouldn't have been posted in time.
Pyrodragon: Thank you! I'd have to say… my favorite would be… hm… well… I don't think I've written enough to declare one my favorite just yet, but I think the most "developed" one would be Seven Days.
Chikin Wang: No, Sora is not going to end up locked in a tower and wait for talking mice to save her… but it sounds so tempting, hahaha.
Disclaimer: Digimon is not mine.
Chapter Thirteen – Tangible Remnants of Hopes and Dreams
Miyako wasn't given enough credit on stealth. She ordered the coachman to slow to a mild canter and stay a good distance away from the ivory carriage in front. The man barely even gave her a glance before tightening his pull on the reigns all the while keeping an eye on the dim white dot.
"Miss, they've stopped," the man's gruff voice came from the front.
Miyako pushed aside the lacy curtains and realized with a shock that they had stopped in the village. Surely a village girl could not afford the luxuries that the auburn haired woman flaunted. Creeping cautiously out of the carriage and ignoring the quizzical stare the footman gave, she checked to make sure her mask was intact and continued towards the woman in sea green velvet, unsure of what she intended to do. The modest carriage had stopped in front of the dark butcher's shop.
Shadows veiled the small surrounding buildings and Miyako easily slipped into the dark corners, pulling her skirts close with a hand over her heart as she held her breath and waited for the carriage to pull away. When it finally did, she frowned as the woman's profile was barely visible in the darkness and her mask remained tightly bound to her features. Miyako was just making wild stories in her mind of the woman's deformity until a low glimmer caught her eyes. Even in the dark, from a distance, it was still hard to not recognize the very silver chain that a servant had threatened her life over once.
§
With a hand on her mother's necklace, Sora watched as the carriage dissolved into the darkness in the horizon. All of a sudden, her nerves began rattling and a frosty wave stole over her skin. Having learned to never disagree with her instincts, Sora swiveled on her glass heels to stare straight out into the dark. The surrounding black felt thick and practically radiated with an ominous aura. She suppressed a shiver and instead, continued staring into the darkness as if doing so could grant her the ability to see through.
The village was silent, the barest movement of skirts sounded like thunder in the still quiet, the shutting of a door, an earthquake. Sora's heart constricted to a stop as a flicker finally caught her eyes, but quickly continued its rhythmic pounding when she concluded it to be light reflected off of a glass. Perhaps her nerves were playing a joke on her, perhaps she was just filled with too much unsettled energy from the excitement of being with Yamato, but after a while, Sora finally pushed away her worries and entered the shop.
§
The sun's rays stretched lazily over the kingdom when dawn finally arrived. The sky was a pallet of blues, pinks, and yellows, but its beauty was lost to the woman before the vanity mirror. A bright reflective mask lay on the vanity surface by her fists, knuckles white from her trembling anger. It had taken a couple of hours for the shock to subside enough to turn into fury and even longer for her mind to think logically.
She had not seen the woman's face. The necklace could have been any other, though she doubted that theory. It was nearly impossible to forget the chain that she had taken from her stepsister. For the first time, Miyako saw Sora for what she really was, her stepsister and formidable opponent. Sora had just started chores for Miyako and her mother then and curious of what could be done to provoke the girl, Miyako had stolen into her bedroom and taken the most valuable thing she could find. It was the first time she had seen her mad—no, beyond mad, furious. That night, Sora was whipped for the first time and the day after she began her life as a servant to the Inoues.
Years ago, when Miyako had first met Sora, she had seen her as a gullible, cheerful girl and settled to make her life miserable. Sora was everything she wasn't, and everything she wanted to be. She was beautiful, even at such a young age she glowed with radiance. She had friends, people that praised her, she was loved and worshiped. So, Miyako had set out to keep the one person she envied most, the one person who could take everything away from her trapped under her thumb as a servant. She learned that fate could not be thwarted.
Before her very eyes, Miyako saw it all repeating, but this time, she feared Sora could not be discouraged so easily. She took in a long shaky breath and loosened her fists, coming to her senses and the present. She would marry the prince and damn it, she was going to live "happily ever after."
The knock at the door echoed through the bedchamber and Miyako watched a brunette with large emerald eyes enter the room upon giving her consent. "Janine."
The girl paused in the middle of the room, holding a small tray of breakfast in one hand and a washbasin balanced on her hip with the other. "Miss Miyako…"
"Tell me, when was the last you've been to the markets?"
The blood drained from Janine's face, but she held her head high and answered in an unwavering voice, "Just a few days ago, Miss."
"I see."
"Is… something wrong, Miss?"
There was a long moment where neither of them moved. Janine held Miyako's stare, willing herself not to run.
"…no. Nothing is wrong."
§
Mimi came earlier than usual. The woman showed up in a lavish gown crawling with red embroideries that she explained to be Christian Dior. She seemed to be more excited than usual, if possible. Sora sat in bed, absentmindedly watching Mimi hustle about the room and trying to shake an unsettling feeling.
She stopped her pacing and turned with a hand on her hip to the young woman in bed. "Sora sweetie? Are you feeling okay?"
She blinked. "Oh, I'm fine."
Mimi gave a small nod and a smile that didn't quite reach her sparkling hazel eyes. "Don't worry." The words spoke volumes beyond Sora's comprehension. She straightened up and waved her wand at Sora, magically lifting the woman to her feet. "I heard it's white tonight?"
Her crimson eyes lit up at the memory of the previous night spent with Yamato. "You know?"
"Of course I know," said Mimi with a wink. "Girl, let me tell you, if that guy was in the twenty-first century, girls would be all over—oh, well I guess that's happening now, isn't it?" Mimi giggled lightly wrapped in her own musings while circling around Sora with her wand poised against her chin. She waved the white rod and exclaimed, "I've got it!" just before cool fabric brushed against Sora's skin.
She glanced in the three-panel mirror Mimi had materialized once again in the center of the room. "Heavens, is that really me?" said Sora, reaching out a hand to tentatively touch the cold glass.
"You like it?"
She swallowed hard. "I love it." For the occasion, Mimi had outfitted Sora in snow white satin. The glossy fabric wrapped around her arms tightly and constricted about her slim waist only to blossom into a breathtakingly wide skirt. Delicate silk embroidered meticulously with a shiny bead floral pattern was layered lightly over the skirts. Around her neck, the crest of love had been turned into a modest necklace consisted of Baroque pearls, the same as the bracelet her wrist donned. Sora's earrings were simple, made of single spherical pearls. To top it off, Mimi had decorated her auburn hair with a crown of baby's breath flowers.
"I think the flowers are a nice touch, don't you think so?"
"Y-yes," stuttered Sora still in shock.
The other woman clasped her hands together, heedless of the sharp wand and sighed dreamily. "You're going to make such a gorgeous bride. Donald Trump and Melania got nothin' on you and Yamato."
Sora smiled. She was already used to Mimi's occasional comparisons to the twenty-first century and learned to simply nod and smile.
"Remember, Sora. The necklace will change at a minute before midnight again. Remember."
"I will, Mimi. I hardly noticed it change last night, we were so caught up with discovering the passageway."
Mimi smiled knowingly.
"That reminds me. Have you heard of Cupid?" asked Sora, slipping into her glass slippers.
"Cupid! Girl, I dated him."
Sora's eyes widened as she stared at her friend incredulously. Why anyone would want to be with an overgrown baby with wings was beyond her.
It was as if Mimi could read her mind for in the next instant, she clicked her tongue and giggled. "He's not really like that, you know."
"Oh… really?"
"He'll kill me for telling you, but Cupid was a late bloomer. He used to wet the bed during his 'active' years. He'd run around and play with arrows and people's hearts, terrible."
"But he courted you!"
"Oh, people grow up, and so do we. Cupid grew out of his childish games, but not before doing enough damage that people would start relating him to all their love issues. He's quite the looker now. Blonde, blue eyes, tall, handsome, much like Yamato."
The idea of another man looking even remotely close to Yamato's perfect features was unheard of to Sora, but she nodded and listened nonetheless. "So… the arrow—"
"What can I say, he has a knack, playing with hearts."
"I was right, he is devious."
Mimi gave a sly smile. "Oh yes." Suddenly she stilled and gave Sora a regretful smile. "I have to go now."
"Oh do you really?"
"Yeah, but don't worry girl, you look gorgeous. The necklace will change at a minute before midnight and… good luck."
"Mimi—" A thunderous pounding from below startled Sora. She snapped her head to the doorway and when she turned around once more, her fairy godsister had disappeared. "Tai?" Sora called.
His voice wafted up from the first floor. "Sor, I think you should come down." The serious tone he used only added to her worries and Sora found herself picking up her skirts and racing down the steps.
"What is it—Marianne? Janine?" She stared at the aging woman by the door and almost broke out in a smile if it wasn't for the way Janine leaned against her for support. "What, what's happened?" asked Sora as she raced towards them, accidentally pushing Tai aside in her urgency.
Janine staggered forward and fell onto Sora's outstretched arms and into the dim candlelight. Sora's knees buckled under the unexpected weight and they tumbled onto the floor, with Janine resting on her lap. She gasped at the blood that glistened wickedly in the glow. "Marianne, what happened?" Janine's arms and face was covered in bloody cavities and appendages.
Marianne dropped onto her knees by Sora and held back her tears as Taichi stared. "Mi-Miyako, she found out who you were and," she hiccupped and sniffed, "and she accused Janine of stealing. She didn't believe that you could afford everything and sh-she knew how close you—"
"Where is she?" Sora had heard enough. Her heart constricted painfully knowing she had been the main cause for so much turmoil.
"I-I don't know, she's probably almost ready for the ball. She told us to leave—oh God, Sora, she went mad! She took the fireplace pick and started burning Janine! Th-this was after she whipped her an-and when she took the scissors, I was finally able to rush in and stop her."
"Damned bitch."
A strained laugh came from the figure on the floor. "Sora, I never thought you even knew such words."
She smiled down at her friend, unshed tears brimming in her eyes. "I've never been mad enough to use them."
"I take it you know what living means now?"
"Absolutely." She looked away, hiding the tears that broke free and turned to Taichi who stood quietly in the corner of the room in shock. "Tai, could you find Joe? Now please."
He sent her a look that warned her not to do anything stupid and she had to look away. "Sora, I'm not leaving the two of you."
"I'm not going to do anything stupid, Tai. Just please, Joe may be the only one who can do something about this."
After a long moment, he nodded and headed out the door.
"Marianne, where's Sam?"
"He's at the mansion. I told him not to get involved, goodness knows he's not the young man he used to be."
Sora gently pulled Janine to a sitting position and wrapped a poorly bandaged arm around her neck. "Let's get upstairs, Janine. You can rest there."
She moaned lightly and shuffled her feet idly. Marianne went to the opposite side and took the other arm. Together, they made it up the stairs to Sora's bedroom and slowly set Janine down on bed. There was more light in Sora's room and it revealed Janine's scabs, scars, cuts, and burns.
"Oh Janine… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Sora reached out a hand to touch Janine's blood dampened brown locks as Marianne rushed outside to fetch a pail of water.
"Stupid girl. It's not your fault."
"Yes—"
"Stop it Sora. Stop taking responsibility for what I do. I chose this."
"No you didn't."
"Yes. I did and I did it all so that you could go marry that prince charming. Just remember to take Marianne, Sam, and me with you."
Sora looked down at her blood stained dress. The dress didn't matter anymore. She felt selfish. She sacrificed her closest friends' safety for her own desire. If she had gone back to the mansion none of this would have happened. But, even as Sora tried to convince herself it wasn't worth it, her heart knew it was. It only made her more determined to go. She stared down at her hands, trying to make her decision for what seemed like an eternity until a larger hand was placed over hers. She looked up and found Joe smiling down at her.
"Don't worry," he said.
Sora lowered her lashes as the familiar words echoed in her head. Mimi knew—knew what was going to happen, what was happening. The knowledge gave a little reassurance and oddly, no anger. She knew, warning Sora of the future would be disastrous. Besides, Mimi wouldn't let anything bad happen, would she? Sora inhaled deeply and looked up with a question in her eyes.
"Janine will be fine. No scars."
"N-not even from the whipping?"
"Not with me here."
Sora glanced around the room from Joe's smiling features, to Janine's tired but happy smirk, to Marianne's twinkle in her eyes, and finally to Taichi's reassuring grin at the doorway where he stood.
"Sora, if you don't go, you're telling me that all this was in vain," whispered Janine, knowing just how to persuade her. Her voice was hoarse, but somehow still possessed the kindness and warmth.
Silence passed through the room with the occupants smiling confidently and Sora seemingly struggling in her own battles. Truthfully, her heart had long ago won. She stood, ram rod straight and her lips curved. "My dress is dirty."
A pillow flew at Sora and hit her squarely in the chest with a soft oof.
"Okay, I'm going, I'm going. Obviously you're fine if you can throw a pillow."
§
She still worried. Sora sat in the back of the coach, rocking gently from side to side, lost in her thoughts and concerns. For the second time she could remember, Sora felt her anger consume her and boil close to the surface, threatening to be unleashed. She had learned to leash her temper, but it always came back when the things and people she cared for were in jeopardy.
Sora stared down at the invitation in her lap and lifted a hand to her mask. She had almost forgotten them until Taichi ran down after her with the items in hand. A promise had been made to Janine that she would attend the ball and marry the prince. It wasn't so selfish, in a way, she did it so Janine didn't suffer in vain. Right, she just had to keep reminding herself that.
The dress was still soiled, but it was no longer important. Sora didn't care who stared at her or anything else the whores had to say, she was going for Yamato, for a chance at a happiness long postponed.
"Miss?"
Sora blinked rapidly and jerked her head towards her right. The footman looked at her quizzically by the open door with a hand outstretched, ready to help her out. She lowered her lashes. "I'm sorry."
Her heart was thundering as she stepped out of the carriage, but before Sora could even try to calm herself, a hand reached out and struck firmly across her cheek. She whirled around, hand pressed firmly against her cheek and stilled. Sora froze at the sight of Miyako and a million thoughts sped through her mind in a silent hurricane. Her face was blank as she tried to search for the right emotion. Anger? Pain? Shock?
Miyako didn't seem to be having trouble with finding the right emotion and raised her hands to grip firmly around Sora's throat, pushing the woman back until her head collided with the side of the coach. Sora flinched momentarily, but in the next instant, her features contorted into one Miyako hadn't seen before. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. Miyako applied more pressure to Sora's neck; for some damn reason, it didn't affect her.
Sora's hands closed around Miyako's wrists in deadlocks. She promised Janine she wouldn't do anything rash, stupid, something that could jeopardize the future, but the truth was, Sora was tired of playing the submissive servant. It wasn't until Miyako let go completely that she realized how much pressure she was placing on the woman's wrists. Sora blinked, straightened, and pushed aside the offending limbs, disgust written all over her physiognomy. Miyako rubbed her wrists and she glared up at her accusingly. Even in the dark, Sora could make out the imprints her fingers had left, a few half moon curves remained from where her nails had dug into her flesh. She almost smiled.
Words had fled from her mind and Sora's mind had stopped functioning correctly. It was as if another person had taken over her since the moment Janine had shown up at the door, covered in scars and blood. Deciding that words weren't necessary, Sora bent down to pick up the invitation from where it had fallen.
A foot stamped down on her fingers, viciously grinding her hand against the ground. Miyako's heel found its way onto Sora's flesh and she relentlessly crushed it further in as she bent to slowly pick up the piece of paper, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. Sora watched as she snatched the invitation, held it firmly between her fingers, and promptly tore it apart into halves, fourths, eighths, tinier and tinier until the pieces were as big as her thumb nail. Fiery orbs followed the pieces to the ground in slow motion, watching as her hopes and dreams were literally torn before her very eyes. The pain from her hand was minute compared to the one resonating from her heart.
She was suddenly desperate. Sora's eyes jumped around their surroundings and her features darkened. They were a little way from the palace, but not at its gate. The streets were dark, quiet, abandoned at the late hour.
"Don't bother, you're not going to get any help," sneered Miyako as she bent forward to roughly rip off Sora's mask. "I paid the footman and coachman to bring you here. They're not going to help you."
Her eyes darted to the front of the carriage and took in the empty seat. The footman was nowhere to be seen, when had they slipped away? As Sora slowly came to terms with the situation, foot still trapped until Miyako's heel, the spiteful woman pulled and ripped at the mask.
The ribbons came off first, then the beads, the glitter, the fabrics, and finally, she pulled the final piece apart right down the middle. Shock was the first to hit. Shock that hours, days, weeks of hard work had been ruined in a mere minute, and shock that Miyako was strong enough to rip the mask in half. The lavender-haired woman gave an unladylike snort and threw the remaining pieces at Sora's face. One piece hit her in the eye and the sting brought her senses back.
Sora's eyes watered and Miyako laughed. It was loud, piercing, and shrill. Unwelcome in the dead of the night. "What's this, are you actually crying?"
She glanced up from where she knelt, their eyes locking. Sora's vision blurred and her eyes brimmed with tears, but none fell. She wasn't feeling sad, helpless, hopeless, and pathetic, but instead, anger raged within. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Miyako, you are by far, the most pathetic person I have ever met."
Miyako shrieked and her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. She opened her mouth to retort, but Sora had taken the chance to lung forward, knocking the woman onto her back. In a most out-of-character rage, she knelt forward and clasped her left hand loosely around Miyako's neck as the other struck her in the face, again and again, and again.
"This is for Janine." She clenched her fingers in a fist and struck, surprisingly well for a hand so abused and beaten. "This is for my mother's necklace." She left hand tightened its hold and Sora violently took in a handful of Miyako's hair, lifted her head, and shoved it forcefully back into the ground. Miyako was screaming now, realizing that the same advantage of the dark she had given herself, was working equally well with Sora.
Sora wasn't done. Over a decade of anger had been locked inside and suppressed and now, she was finally revealing it all in a flurry. "Allow me to be selfish, Miss Inoue, but for some reason, I feel that you owe the biggest debt to me." Sora stilled and bowed her head, the auburn locks fell forward and framed her face. Finally, the unshed tears fell. She took in a deep shuttering breath and released Miyako. "God, what am I doing?" she whispered, watching as the woman scrambled madly to stand up shakily. Without another word, Miyako ran in the direction of the palace, making sure never to glance back.
She finally did it. Sora didn't know whether to be relieved, proud, or ashamed. The weight was lifted off her chest, she could breathe evenly again, she was damn proud of herself. But after the pleasing sensation subsided, she had to face the overwhelming guilt and disappointment. She should have never resulted to violence, she was better than Miyako. The tears continued; now it was due to regret.
She didn't know how long she had been sitting there—dress soiled, hand bloody and bruised repulsively, surrounded by the tangible remnants of her hopes and dreams. Even if she could bring herself to walk through the palace gates, there was no way the guards would let her pass. No mask, no invitation, and looking like the corpse's bride. But Mimi had said everything would work out, right? Mimi wouldn't lie to her. If she didn't attend the ball, Sora would have to face the shame of going back to Janine and telling her she failed. "Sorry I couldn't go. Sorry I can't take you all away and make your lives better."
Sora pushed herself off the ground and stood. A dizzying sensation rushed through her and she braced herself against the coach for a moment to let it pass. She wouldn't be the one to tell her friends she failed. She wouldn't give up, not when everything was so close, within her grasp, just waiting for her to reach out and take it all. She wouldn't spend the rest of her life wondering or regretting about this night, not like she had done so many times before about countless other nights.
The passageway Yamato and her and found would let her in. She would show up looking like hell, and she'd hold her head high.
§
The stone felt cool to the touch as her motions grew more and more frantic, hurried. Sora constantly spun around to check the area, perhaps she had forgotten the location of the passageway? No, she was certain this was it. It wasn't something you could forget so easily. Then why, why, why, why, was it not opening?
She started pounding at the wall, unsure of what to do anymore. A bitter laugh dissolved into the night, and she had said that the passageway was dangerous, that anyone could get in. Midnight drew closer and Sora's heart raced faster with each passing minute. What if she didn't get there in time? What if Yamato took some other woman to be his wife? She shook her head, Yamato wouldn't do that.
Discouraged, Sora felt her heart give a sickening drop to her stomach. With her back firmly against the stone wall, she slid down to the ground and drew her knees to her chest. She just didn't know what to do anymore. Surely the guards wouldn't let her into the palace, hell, she wouldn't even let herself into the palace. Her voice sounded harsh and strained in the thick silence as she laughed. Good God, I'm going crazy.
She had hit the bottom of the painfully deep well in one night and now, there was nowhere else to go but up. She prayed that someone would go searching for her, send down a bucket, a lifeline, anything, but she knew the chances were slim. Still, with her anger and frustration spent, things were looking oddly more optimistic. Sora gave herself a good inspection with her hands and laughed again. The crown of baby's breath had long ago fallen off and her dress was not only bloodstained, but now torn as well. She had ripped off part of the fine underskirt to use as a makeshift bandage around her right hand. Miyako was a driven—a bitch, but a driven bitch. If the outcome of everything she did wasn't so dismal, Sora would have thought Miyako's determination to be downright inspirational. Now I know I'm crazy.
So, it was sitting against the stone wall by herself, laughing wildly and thinking that nothing could possibly make things worse, that Sora proven correct. The strand of pearls around her neck morphed back to the original necklace and Sora tensed. A minute before midnight. A minute before Yamato would announce his decision. She stood up, and resumed the careful inspection of the wall. It was better than waiting for midnight to come and her meaning of life to end—Sora gasped.
Suddenly, she was no longer in the chilly night air. The dim passageway with its smooth stone walls, bleak lighting (she stopped to wonder for a minute just who lit the torches in the passageways), and mucky scent was the most inviting thing she had seen in… well, that long if you stopped to think of it. As her hand touched the familiar pendant around her neck, it hit Sora that the night before, the necklace had changed just as the passage opened as well. Now that her mind was working properly again, she remembered Mimi telling her repeatedly not to forget the necklace. She smirked; Mimi wasn't very good at giving clues.
So the passageways must've only opened around midnight, minute before, minutes after. As Sora raced along the dingy corridor, she realized she owed the maker an apology. It wasn't dangerous and careless. It was the most thoughtful thing she had ever known.
§
Yamato was having trouble breathing. The women around him were too much to bear, their perfumes were intoxicating, they were all poison. Slow, painful poison to the senses. He smirked handsomely, Sora would like that, a little more of his broken poetry as she would call it. His dark eyes scanned the room for the millionth time, searching for a fiery redhead, but like all the times before, his gaze returned to the floor, defeated. To his right, Yamato saw his mother pass a worried gaze at him. He had promised to announce his bride at midnight and midnight, was drawing closer by the second. What would he do if Sora didn't arrive in time? Stall?
From a distance, the deep ringing of the clock tower could be heard.
Panic washed over him like a chilling waterfall, what in the world was he going to do? Too confident, Yamato had been sure Sora would arrive in time. A hand was placed on his shoulder and he glanced upwards to see his mother look down at him regrettably. She gave a light squeeze. Simple, no need for words. He looked away, his midnight blue gaze hard and cold. The prince stood with a sigh and the room instantly surrendered to silence.
Stall. It was the only thing he could think of, but what would it accomplish? It was only delaying the inevitable. Once more his gaze traveled around the room, lingering on foreign faces he hadn't recognized. Make a decision, Yamato. He broke out in a dazzling grin all of a sudden and a collective sigh sounded throughout the audience. The decision had been made all along.
Yamato opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly stopped, frozen stark still as a soft clink could be heard from the direction of the gardens. His heart stopped with his breath and his eyes stayed on the pair of large French doors. The ballroom grew even quieter if possible as more and more occupants were alerted to the crescendo of clinks.
The sound grew louder, thundering in Yamato's mind until a breathless Sora raced into the ballroom, oblivious to the bewildered and repulsed looks she received. He saw only her and his features instantly lit up into a euphoric grin—until he saw only her and her bruises. He stared, expression blank and confused at the sight of Sora's soiled gown, and bandaged and bloodied hand. He rushed forward against a few women's objections and made his way to Sora, arms parted, welcoming, loving, ready to soothe away her problems.
Sora relaxed against his warmth and laughed inwardly. An hour ago she was worried that he might've been displeased with her looks, but he took her in his arms like a secretly treasured china doll. One of the many reasons she grew to love him so quickly. Yamato had this amazing ability to make you forget your doubts and troubles with one glance. With a kiss, he could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Of course, she'd have to make sure that the latter was reserved for only her.
So lost in her blissful musings, Sora had forgotten about the problems at hand—something she blamed on Yamato.
He held her at arms' length, eyes boring into hers, hands radiating warmth and comfort where they touched her skin. "Tell me." Two words and Sora poured her heart out, not caring if everyone in the room heard. They probably did, seeing as how every syllable seemed to bounce off the smooth walls.
For some reason, she felt a little dirty and low for ratting out Miyako so quickly, so loudly, so willingly, but she was mad, she was in pain, patience was not a virtue that night. Besides that, Miyako had dared to hurt one of the few close friends Sora possessed, there was no forgiving of that. Somehow during the retelling of her story, even with the wild arm gestures and throbbing pain, Sora had managed to forget her hand. She had told Yamato the bare skeletal structure of what had happened, but none of the meat had been revealed. He grabbed her right hand as gently as he could and closed his fingers firmly around the bandages. There was no pain, only warmth.
"And this?" He asked, knowing the answer but showing undying concern for what she had to say.
"…Miyako stopped me with her heel before she tore the invitation to pieces." Sora glanced away, feeling like a five year old telling on a bully.
To her surprise Yamato's jaw clenched and he slowly unwrapped the makeshift bandage. Even Sora cringed at the sight of her hand, bruised, purple, raw, bloody, gory, anything else you could think of. It felt sticky and dirty above the hammering pain. He only smiled before lifting each finger to his lips.
When he straightened, his eyes were cool, burning fire. "Miss Inoue." His rich baritone voice was commanding, stern.
Sora blinked when Miyako stepped forward. She was still there? She actually stepped forward? The world didn't make sense anymore.
"Y-your royal h-highness." At least she sounded scared, that seemed normal.
"Do you have any idea how much pain and suffering you've bestowed upon Lady Takenouchi?"
She flinched lightly at the title. "…no."
"I should have you beheaded." Gasps sounded through the ballroom and Sora's eyes met his in a pleading look. "But of course, she's asked that you not be." He fought against the urge to add "little gullible vixen," under his breath. "However, as future queen, I will leave it in her more than capable hands to decide upon a suitable sentence."
Queen Natsuko beamed radiantly as her husband downed his drink with one gulp and slapped the nearest servant heartily on his back.
Miyako looked as if she had just been beaten with a large wooden stick and then forced to eat it. Sora? Queen? Punishment? Her voice raised an octave, much like her frustration. "But she is nothing but a servant! Look what she has done to me!" She tore off her mask in one fluid motion and displayed the scabs and bruises Sora had left. "This… this… harlot is not fit to be queen and—"
The slap Yamato's hand made as it connected with the side of Miyako's cheek echoed through the silent chamber. His chest heaved with each breath and he held Sora closer to him, arm wrapped securely around her waist. "Never slander my bride's good name. I will not stand for anyone who dares to defy her."
Sora's head was spinning with the overwhelming enormity of it all. Yamato had just announced her as his bride. Sora Takenouchi. Lady Sora Takenouchi. It was so uplifting, to finally be truly recognized and announced so widely with the title she had inherited in her own right from her mother. Miyako was being reprimanded. Yamato defended her honor and she knew from the way he held onto her body that it took all his self control to only slap the cow. Now wasn't that a nice feeling? The most gorgeous man in the kingdom, her future husband, the prince, future king, most importantly, her lover, was defending her honor. In fact, it was such a nice feeling that the rush of it all left Sora breathless. For the second time, she fainted in the prince's arms.
The soft silk caressed against Sora's skin, the texture smooth and flawless. The last time she had woken after such and embarrassing failure of her strength, she had stared up at the same lavish ceiling, ornate paintings, and heavy drapes. The soft aroma of freshly cut flowers floated to her nose and she inhaled deeply. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed of pleased. Euphoria won without a doubt. So what if she fainted in front of a million women? None of them were waking up in the morning to silk pillows in the palace.
She giggled lightly to no one in particular and as she flipped over to face the windows and welcome the sunlight, Sora suppressed a sharp gasp. Her eyes met sapphire and her body froze.
Yamato stared at his beloved lazily from where he kneeled by the bed and reached out a hand to smooth away stray auburn strands. He chuckled. "What were you laughing about, love?"
"About how lucky I am."
He pouted. "You've got that right. I was the one who had to endure those women after you fainted. What happened, love? Our close proximity finally became too much for you to bear?"
She laughed and stretched lazily out on the bed. "Oh yes, I was thinking of ways to be rid of you."
Yamato's grin was unfazed. "I regrettably inform you that it will never happen. Not in a million years."
"'Tis good that I adapt quickly."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Say you will be my wife. I want to hear you say it."
"I haven't heard the question yet, how can I possibly answer?"
"Lady Takenouchi, will you be—"
Her hand darted out to cover his lips and a mirthful gleam entered her eyes. "No, no, Yama my love, I want to be surprised," she said before she removed her hand.
"You minx."
"Better than a cow."
"Agreed."
"What happened after I fainted, Yama? I must say, I've always been known for my good health. Fainting spells have not been in my history until I met you."
"I knew it was the proximity."
"It must be from the horrid stench you give off at a close distance."
"Lies, Sora love."
She smirked and rolled her eyes, turning more onto her side for a better view of his face. "So tell me, what happened?"
"I had Miyako beheaded—no, no, I didn't," he added quickly when the color drained from Sora's face. He didn't know why she protected the witch so, but anything for Sora, right? "I had her brought to the dungeons. She's awaiting your decision."
A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. Was it so wrong to feel so smug and satisfied at the knowledge Miyako was in the dungeons? Her smile widened. It felt good. In fact, she was sorry she hadn't been awake to see it happen. Knowing Miyako, the words "kicking" and "screaming" came to mind.
"Afterwards, I brought you here and conveniently used you as an excuse to leave the ball," her eyes narrowed a little and he continued, "Mother and father are eager to meet you. My mother is completely supportive, and my father I believe, has finally relented."
Everything sounded so perfect, Sora wasn't sure she could believe it all.
"As for Catherine Grant, since she hasn't actually physically acted, I only banned her from the palace, you, me, our children, their children, their children's children, their children's children's chil—"
"I see." She thought for a moment. "Catherine was… probably just desperate for attention. I don't believe she was too ill hearted to do anything like Miyako." Suddenly Sora's eyes widened and she shot up in bed, holding a hand against her forehead as the dizzying whirl returned. "Yamato, my friends—"
"Say no more, princess. I will have my men bring them to the palace where they are welcomed to stay forev—"
"Thank you!" she moved forward to wrap her arms around Yamato but stopped when he held up a hand.
"—under one condition."
"What… condition?" Sora bit her bottom lip lightly, uneasy with the turn of the conversation.
His handsome features broke out in a huge grin. "Will you marry me?"
"You're terrible!"
"Did I surprise you?"
"No, but you did lose a lot of my respect for you."
He hung his head; shoulders slumped.
"Yamato, Yamato, Yamato. Did I ever mention that your hair reminds me of… dried hay? It's quite nice."
"Oh, but I love your rusted metal much more."
A passive silence passed between the two until Sora sighed happily and snuggled further into the feather pillows.
Yamato raised a questioning brow, his expression one of amusement. "What is it, love?"
"I'm just… happy." She frowned. Happy was such a meek word to use, but it was just so fitting. "My friends, Janine, Marianne, Sam, Taichi—"
"Taichi? Who's Taichi?" he quipped, slightly alarmed at the new male name.
Sora only laughed and tousled Yamato's hair lovingly. It might've looked like hay, but it was no where near the texture of hay. "A childhood friend, we grew up together. He has a younger sister named Kari and we're just… they feel like family, Yamato."
His expression softened. "You deserve to feel loved."
"You make me feel loved."
"If you think this is how it feels to be loved, just wait until our wedding night, love."
"Yamato!" He silenced her with a kiss. "Are you going to answer my question?"
"What ques—oh." A slow smile spread on her lips. "Will you open the palace to my friends?"
"Is my answer not obvious?"
"Is that a yes?"
"Will you stop asking questions long enough to answer one?"
Sora rolled over onto her back and onto her side once more, throwing her head about and laughing whole-heartedly. "Yes."
Yamato flashed her an I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it grin before climbing onto the bed and dipping his face down over hers. "Is that a you will answer one question, 'yes', or a you'll marry me, 'yes'?"
His breath was warm and tempting and Sora couldn't help but part her lips just a little in anticipation. "It's both," she murmured with her eyes fixated on his mouth.
Yamato's lips met hers in a hard, scorching kiss while his hands snaked around her slender frame to hold her as close as humanly possible; she knew he'd never let go.
Epilogue"Oooooooooh Yama, that hurts!"
"How about now, love?" he whispered huskily.
Her reply was a pleasurable "Mmmm." "Yamato Ishida, accomplished masseuse. Will the surprises never cease?"
He laughed heartily. "If I stop surprising you, I'm afraid you'll find me dull."
"You? Impossible."
"It is one of my greatest fears." The prince's hands traveled up to his wife's nape and his nimble fingers began rubbing the skin with practiced tenderness. "Is that good?"
A soft, barely audible moan escaped her lips. It made him shiver. After two years of blissful marriage, the barest touch from her could still make Yamato think thoughts that would have sent any other young man jumping into a tub of ice. Fortunately for the prince, his wife made no protest to his more… adventurous schemes.
"I'm tired, Sora," he teased.
"But remember, what's good for me, is good for the child." Her hands instinctively went to her barely swollen abdomen. "I can't believe Janine was with child before I."
Yamato's hands traveled down his wife's arms until they covered her smaller hands, positioned on her stomach. "She and Joe were married before we were," he reasoned.
She smiled. "They make such a lovely pair." After the prince's engagement was formally announced, Sora had her friends brought to the palace as promised. Janine didn't stay long and quickly left to live with Joe, but visited almost daily. Taichi and Kari decided to stay at the butcher shop, where the business blossomed when Yamato declared that Taichi was the official royal butcher. It made no difference to Taichi or Hikari—they both visited as often as possible. Sometimes even with Takeru in tow. Marianne and Samuel were the only ones who stayed at the palace with Sora.
The wedding had been lavish and grand as expected, mostly filled with strangers to them both. As promised, Mimi attended the wedding and her daring dress quickly became the talk of the town. She cried and hugged Sora, half her tears due to her sorrow and guilt for not warning Sora of the horrendous night, and the other half out of pure joy for the young woman. Later that evening, Yamato had surprised Sora by whisking her away to a faraway estate where the seclusion and intimacy was ideal for any of Yamato's "adventures."
"I can't wait until the day I can hold her," came Yamato's voice.
Sora blinked. "Hold who?"
He squeezed her stomach lightly in response, earning a coy smirk from his wife.
"Who said anything about a girl? I want a boy."
"A boy?"
"So he can grow to be just like his father, of course. I can see him now, handsome and daring."
"But a girl would have your beauty and grace."
Sora lifted a brow and her smirk widened. "I already sleep in your bed willingly, why are you still charming me?"
He leaned down, brushing his lips lightly against hers. "Because it is the truth."
She parted her lips and pressed harder against her husband, eager to taste his lips. "I suppose, we'll have to have both a boy and a girl then, my prince," she whispered, breath warm against his skin.
Yamato chuckled and purposely pulled away to tease his wife. It worked like a charm and she pouted prettily. "It'll be 'my king' by next week," he corrected.
"I think your ego is swelling faster than my stomach."
"Anything you say, my queen."
End
AN: It's finished! Finally! I'm really sorry, that it's probably not "polished" but it's 5:40am and I need to update before I leave. When I get the time, I'll proofread! Good God, I went through a few versions of this chapter and decided to just settle. It came out… a little worse than I hoped it would be, but a little better than I thought it would be. A decent compromise.
About Miyako, I know people were dying for her to… die, but not only could I just either kill her off or think of anything bad enough to make him stop, I thought why not let the readers decide what they wanted to do to Miyako. Catherine… I didn't really dislike her at all oddly, so I just felt pity on her.
FH was just kind of a… on a whim thing and I'm going to admit that I thought it was shit halfway through, but decided that instead of going back and changing everything, making the next chapters better than the previous ones would be a better choice. Another deal with TheLadyKnight came into play as well, lol.
It's been fun writing this, but even more fun finishing it. I have a one-shot planned, and then another high school fic (just because they're so damn fun to write). Both Soratos. I hope to see some familiar reviewers!
Thank you for taking time and reading this story! (Now, a review perhaps?)
6am, time to go to sleep.
And they lived happily ever after…