She came like a creature from the spirit realms, dressed in fine silk gauze, jade pins sparkling down the waves of her hair. She was tall and slim, her movements languid as though wading through water. A retinue of girls helped her down the palanquin and escorted her further along the banyan, the oldest amongst them no more than Kiesja's age. This one lowered a cushion upon the path, and the hanjou knelt upon it with one graceful sweep.

The air hummed with whispers. 'How lovely she is,' people kept muttering. They were right, but all Kiet could see was the hanjou's youth. In the brief second they locked eyes, hers were wide with fear, excitement, embarrassment—a face easily read. Even her escorts seemed more collected than she, kneeling around her like lilypads ringing a blossom.

'Welcome, himisae.' Kiet ignored for a moment the theatrical display of it all. The entire palatial ring had come to the five-arched gates to witness Fukuse's bridal reception, and now they watched along the path, held at bay by only the best of Kathedra's guards. 'I hope your journey has been pleasant. Please, rise.'

'I thank you for having me, maharaj.' Her Common Kapuluan was as smooth and clear as her skin. She rose, but all her servants remained on their knees until she gestured to the palanquin far behind the gates. 'The Divine Gyok extends their blessings. May you accept our marital gifts.'

The hanjou's smile was uncertain, but her escorts knew already what must be done. They had trailed back to the palanquin and thus began the outpouring of gifts: jewels and golden chains, robes and furs, oils and spices ...

She's learnt the words well. He barely remembered the formalities himself, so elaborate and extensive as was the entire affair. Marital rites began at the woman's home, beginning with a ceremony where she would receive her parental blessings, and ending with the bridal valediction that symbolises her departure from her father's House as both name and shelter.

Only the bridal reception was a public affair—one that lasted often days—before the second half of the rites were to be held with the parents of the bridegroom. In their case would it take at least another turn of the week, along with the rising of the new year. Ten days to memorise his words. Ten days for divine intervention.

Kiet watched the flow of riches come streaming in, passed from Fukuse's servants to his own, who in turn carried them away across the palace entry courtyard. His eyes trailed to Judhistir and the other Ametjas royalborns there waiting. Khaisan, Persi ... even Andhika had stayed to attend the bridal reception—though only the latter of the three seemed to actually be enjoying the moment. A seat had upon the heart of the courtyard been arranged for both the Rama and his Rani. Ecru parasols kept them from the heat of the day; triple-tiered and ringed in tassels. Even then the Rani still looked about to faint. She had become so frail these past turns, the servants whispered she barely could rise from bed.

The last coffer was hoisted past them, and Kiet forced himself to look upon the hanjou. 'Gladly I receive their gifts, and gladly I receive you into my home.'

That's not how it goes. Never mind. It was close enough.

'Please allow me now to present you before them.'

Fukuse drew closer, slipped her hand through his extended arm. She was tense as she walked beside him, her fingers trembling where they clutched his forearm.

'My sisters have themselves prepared your guest residence.' His eyes found Kiesja's as he spoke, standing, at peace, behind their father. Her face was unreadable. Jyesta, on the other hand, hardly contained her excitement. 'I hope it will suit your tastes.'

Fukuse blushed and gave a shadow of a nod, otherwise saying nothing. They were expected to keep silent for this section of formalities, but her discomfort made Kiet himself all the more uneasy, and it helped not that their walk up the path and into the entry courtyard was painfully slow.

It took all of Kiet's resolve to match the hanjou's pace. He wanted it quickly done with and over. It shamed him, he realised—walking through this line of spectators, beautiful princess in hand—and he fought the urge to look down and hide his face.

Was this how Father felt, wedding his Rani? Somehow he doubted that. Theirs may have been built not upon love, but Andayu and Judhistir had at least years to settle into the idea of their marriage. His father looked proud even now, back straight in his seat, waiting for their arrival.

A wave of nausea rose from his stomach.

Kiet breathed it out. What was wrong with him? They only walked the bridal reception—they'll be wed not for a while yet!

'Is all well, intended?' whispered Fukuse, breaking her silence.

The nausea rose to his chest at the hypocorism. Kiet gathered himself and smiled. 'It is a hot day, do you not think? I shall be glad when we've seen this through and I can take you to rest in your chambers.' She blushed again, and he cursed himself for how it must have sounded.

But they were coming upon the Rama, now, and there was no time to amend his words. Judhistir rose, Andayu leaning upon his elbow, and Kiet mustered out the customary introductions.

Truly it all passed as a haze before him. Fukuse was presented first before his father and the Rani, then was it their children—Renata, Persi, Andhika ... three more of Andayu's daughters ... Kiet uttered their names and repeated to each of them the ceremonial questions, pausing for breath once they were through with the Rani's half of the family.

At least Fukuse seemed to have eased slightly. Kiet understood. There was something comforting, safe, in performing a well-prepared ritual. The hanjou stepped further along the line and dipped low before the next Ametjas elder.

Chei. He could bring himself not to look upon her face. He looked around her instead, but of course she had come alone. None of her House remained alive to stand beside her—none, at least, so far as anyone was concerned.

'Her Highness, the Honourable Consort, Rajini Chei.' He felt her gaze heavy on him and forced himself to meet it. 'I present to you Hanjou Fukuse of the Gyok Dynasty.'

Fukuse bowed for the hundredth time that midday, repeated for the hundredth time her introductory words. The entire time Chei's eyes remained on Kiet, as though gauging his worth as an intended husband. She raised her brows, but it took a few seconds more before Kiet realised Fukuse was done with her introductions and it was his turn to speak.

'Do you receive her into our home?'

'I do.' A slight smirk. She will never be a sister-wife, it seemed to say. And how pleased she was that her granddaughter would remain free of him. Could he blame her, after all his mother did?

'Thus we ask you your guidance.' If he had it his way, he would prefer instead to be asking for her blessing. Not that he thought she would give it.

Chei bowed her approvals.

The rest of the reception blended into a timeless fog. Khaisan was last in line, and by then Kiet had no strength left to shield himself from the inevitable spite to come his way.

'His Highness, the Rama-in-Waiting, Maharaj Khaisan Ametjas.' Kiet nodded for Fukuse to come forward before his nephew. 'First in line to the throne of Surikhand. I present to you Hanjou Fukuse of the Gyok Dynasty.'

'The gods have blessed me to know your name.' She dipped down to her waist, lowered her head.

Khaisan's eyes lingered on her every movement. He took her by the elbows and helped her rise. Fukuse flinched at his touch but refrained from pulling away. She cast a quick glance at Kiet, but he was too tired to care. Indeed, if he feared not the consequence of an alliance between his nephew and the Gyok Dynasty, gladly would he have further provoked Khaisan to win the hanjou over.

If he is even capable of that. Once upon a time would it have been an easy feat for his nephew, with his station and looks and charms on top of it. But somewhere along the line his charms turned more sinister, his intentions driven by simple, innocent delights no longer. When did the change take over? Was it when he was named Rama-in-Waiting? Was it his mother's death? Gods knew his own mother's death was changing Kiet, too.

'Are you not going to ask my reception, uncle?'

Kiet startled at the question. Both Fukuse and Khaisan were looking at him—the former expectant, the latter more smug than anything. 'Yes—of course, Khaisan. Do you receive the Hanjou Fukuse into our home?'

'A gem as pure and faultless as the Divine Gyok?' He, too, was deviating from the usual structure, but only those close enough would hear. Khaisan bowed at the hanjou, low and measured. 'I do.'

                
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His sisters had done astounding work decorating Fukuse's guest residence. The small courtyard had been repotted at its centre with a blooming spider hibiscus; red flowers sprouting like an explosion of fire from every one of its spreading branches. Somehow they had even learnt of the hanjou's fondness for jasmine, and now the halls of the long-unoccupied residence was fresh and sweet with its burning incense and oils.

'It smells of the old forest shrines long built for Kitsuo,' said Fukuse, lighting with joy every time she paused to inhale its scent. 'His Divine Emperor once took my brothers and I to such a shrine, back when we were much younger. I never forgot the jasmine that there grew, hugging the structure; the largest and sweetest blooms I have ever seen, just as like its grounds were blessed by Tennu herself.'

'It must be one of your most cherished memories.'

'Indeed.' She slowed to marvel at the nagha carved along the side of the hallway; wingless and tail tipped in flames as were the species endemic to her realm. 'I have not returned to the place since, much as I long to. I wanted the next visit to be accompanied by the person with whom I wished to share Tennu's blessings.'

She avoided his eyes, making instead a study of the wall. Even her ears turned red. It clearly took a lot for her to bring forth the words, for which Kiet both admired her and felt an intense guilt. The intimation was obvious enough, but not one he particularly wanted to indulge. 'Would The Spring Hall be not a more suitable place to seek blessing from the goddess?'

'Ah ... so it is, but ... I thought the shrine would be more intimate. But never mind ... it's only a childhood fancy.'

'And your brothers?' Kiet scrambled to divert the topic—destroying the girl's dreams was the last thing he desired. 'Perhaps they, too, would like to relive their childhood adventure.'

'Well, Fukuhei had been then an infant carried in our mother's arms, so I doubt he remembered a thing. And Harubae died a year after our visit, so ...'

Excellent diversion, Kithrel. Even Fukuse's train of servants cringed with him. 'Forgive me. I realised not that you had meant Harubae.' Though of course she had. Who else could she have been referring to? Kamei would have not yet been born when she was much younger. Kiet could have kicked himself. He was losing his touch.

'You need give no apologies, maharaj. It was a long time ago.'

'How fares Fukuhei-himi otherwise?' After our close scrap with the runesmith, that is. Hopefully the Empress and their mind-healer was able to keep Gyoseong from further pernicious experiments.

'He wanted so much to come.' Fukuse's cheeks dimpled when she smiled. 'He does not understand why none of our blood was permitted to accompany me.'

'I can imagine.' It made him also uncomfortable to think of Jyesta departing alone for foreign lands, after her entire life spent cossetted in familial grounds. 'Truth be told, I have little patience for such traditions myself.'

He took them down a turn in the hallway, looking back to gauge Fukuse's reaction, and as predicted, the dismay was clear in her face. The Tsun loved their rituals and traditions—the Divine Gyok possibly more than their entire nation combined. Kiet spoke no lies, but even then he knew not why he tried so hard to fuel her dislike. Even if she hated him thoroughly, still she had no power to call off the wedding.

Kiet sighed, his guilt already multiplying in the short amount of time he had spent with the hanjou. Thank the gods they had come upon the end of the hallway where Fukuse's chambers waited beyond closed doors.

'I will leave you now to your rest, himisae.' He stepped aside to let her maids pass. 'Your servants will know where to find me should you ever require my assistance.'

'Ah ... you will not stay a while? We have not yet had the opportunity to know one another.'

She is lonely and afraid. He should oblige her, at least until she grew more comfortable to the palace. 'I'd love nothing more, but I know your journey must have taken much toll. We will speak tomorrow once you are better rested. The archers' tournament begins in the morning, and I hope you will join me in my seat.'

She smiled at that, assuaging little of Kiet's guilt. Still he left her residence feeling worse than before.

                    
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☆ this chapter is dedicated to Miedalia1 ☆

Video: Music is OST of Kingdom Hearts
Image: Original artists unknown