The Way Forward (07-Ghost, Hakuren/Ouka)
Feb. 24th, 2011 08:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nekokoban posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: The Way Forward
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nekokoban
Rating: G
Prompt: 07-Ghost, Hakuren/Ouka: wedding - and then they’ll save the world, little by little
Word count: 975
Summary: A fine day for an imperial wedding.
+++++
The vows are simple in spite of all the weight they carry: fidelity and obedience, patience and understanding, honor and respect. The covenant of marriage is the same in the eyes of the Chief of Heaven no matter the rank of the humans involved, after all--it is a promise, and that is what is important.
(That is what they tell the ministers who are attempting to arrange everything, and what they repeat to the family members that come crawling out of the shadows, simpering and greedy-eyed for some place of honor in the upcoming ceremony. It will be a simple ceremony, one in the open air of spring, led by the Bishop who had once trained the groom. The Princess will wear no jewelry beyond the ring that will be placed upon her finger at the end. This they are insistent on, and though the title of authority is not yet passed on entirely, there is more than enough steel in her to face the lot of them down. A simple wedding is more than enough.)
On the day itself there is sun and clear skies, when things had been gray and dim just a week before; it is cool, but not uncomfortably cold. The gossiping relatives who muttered about disobedience to tradition are sullenly silenced under the glow of beautiful weather. As royal weddings go, it is quiet and very nearly humble; both bride and groom are barefoot in the soft new grass, dressed in simple clean white, which comes as a stark contrast to the majority of the guests. Still, there can be no argument that the First Princess's smile is as bright as the diamonds she has forsaken, or the care with which her chosen consort takes her hand--he, an Oak, when the family was well-known for its disregard of any lives other than their own! An aunt whispers to a grandfather, a cousin hisses to another, and their voices fade to little more than white noise.
("We shall lead by example, then," she says, staring at the paperwork that requires her signature--more and more, now, as her father's health fails. "We are only higher than our people because of the whims of birth. I don't want something ridiculous. Look at this!" She pushes a sheaf of notes to him. "This is how much the jewelry alone would cost! With this, we could feed the entire First District's poor for a month!"
He takes the papers silently; she watches as his brows climb slowly, and as he considers. When he looks at her again, his eyes are clear.
"I think you would look better with flowers," he says, "than any of this.")
There are over a dozen proclamations that are waiting to be signed when the ceremony is over; there is no time yet, the First Princess says, for a proper honeymoon--not when the Empire's coffers are only half-full and there are hungry children even in the First and most prosperous district. Instead, the royal couple will spend the afternoon giving alms in the lower city, a proposition which causes another angry stir of protest among the courtiers until it becomes clear that they are not expected to accompany the newlyweds. The rumor among the servants is that the Oak is the one who suggested it, and there are a few who are proud of this: he might be an Oak by birth and by name, but he has worked hard alongside them (there are more than a few stories of the Princess's then-tutor emerging after lessons to off his help to the janitorial staff, as if it were only natural that even a highborn man like himself would be willing to work), and he is as much theirs as he is the noble Oak Family's prodigal son.
It's not a pace that can be kept up forever, of course; it's an unspoken understanding that most of their allowances are because of the wild card presented by the wedding. In a couple of weeks, when the last lingering well-wishers have trickled back to their own homes, the royal court will rebound, hard-eyed and venomous and resistant to change. They will question any of redirection of funds, even those that do not go to the salaries of the rich and their spies will be slipping into place. Barsburg is a great old dragon, one whose wings spread wider and further than that of any other country, and there are parts of her head which are rotten and deeply-rooted. It will be a long time before all of that is excised and purified.
("I know it is not exactly what you want," she says to him softly, in the breath of space between their lips. "I am sorry for forcing this upon you."
"I said yes of my own free will, Ouka-sama," he murmurs back, equally quiet. To the onlookers, it merely looks like a long kiss, and she can feel the way his mouth turns up into a smile. "I want to see this country saved as much as you, and I believe you will be the one to do it. Therefore, to be your partner in this is the greatest honor I could imagine."
"And happiness?" she asks, softer now, as she pulls away, now a step away from him. The Bishop officiating their ceremony is smiling, she can see from the corner of one eye, but she can't look away from her new husband's face, and the way that his smile doesn't fade or change, reaching his eyes without effort.
"And happiness," he says, making her question the answer. He squeezes her hands. "If I have a wish granted today, then I hope my last one is a long time coming, so I may spend many years beside you.")
Author/Artist:
nekokobanRating: G
Prompt: 07-Ghost, Hakuren/Ouka: wedding - and then they’ll save the world, little by little
Word count: 975
Summary: A fine day for an imperial wedding.
+++++
The vows are simple in spite of all the weight they carry: fidelity and obedience, patience and understanding, honor and respect. The covenant of marriage is the same in the eyes of the Chief of Heaven no matter the rank of the humans involved, after all--it is a promise, and that is what is important.
(That is what they tell the ministers who are attempting to arrange everything, and what they repeat to the family members that come crawling out of the shadows, simpering and greedy-eyed for some place of honor in the upcoming ceremony. It will be a simple ceremony, one in the open air of spring, led by the Bishop who had once trained the groom. The Princess will wear no jewelry beyond the ring that will be placed upon her finger at the end. This they are insistent on, and though the title of authority is not yet passed on entirely, there is more than enough steel in her to face the lot of them down. A simple wedding is more than enough.)
On the day itself there is sun and clear skies, when things had been gray and dim just a week before; it is cool, but not uncomfortably cold. The gossiping relatives who muttered about disobedience to tradition are sullenly silenced under the glow of beautiful weather. As royal weddings go, it is quiet and very nearly humble; both bride and groom are barefoot in the soft new grass, dressed in simple clean white, which comes as a stark contrast to the majority of the guests. Still, there can be no argument that the First Princess's smile is as bright as the diamonds she has forsaken, or the care with which her chosen consort takes her hand--he, an Oak, when the family was well-known for its disregard of any lives other than their own! An aunt whispers to a grandfather, a cousin hisses to another, and their voices fade to little more than white noise.
("We shall lead by example, then," she says, staring at the paperwork that requires her signature--more and more, now, as her father's health fails. "We are only higher than our people because of the whims of birth. I don't want something ridiculous. Look at this!" She pushes a sheaf of notes to him. "This is how much the jewelry alone would cost! With this, we could feed the entire First District's poor for a month!"
He takes the papers silently; she watches as his brows climb slowly, and as he considers. When he looks at her again, his eyes are clear.
"I think you would look better with flowers," he says, "than any of this.")
There are over a dozen proclamations that are waiting to be signed when the ceremony is over; there is no time yet, the First Princess says, for a proper honeymoon--not when the Empire's coffers are only half-full and there are hungry children even in the First and most prosperous district. Instead, the royal couple will spend the afternoon giving alms in the lower city, a proposition which causes another angry stir of protest among the courtiers until it becomes clear that they are not expected to accompany the newlyweds. The rumor among the servants is that the Oak is the one who suggested it, and there are a few who are proud of this: he might be an Oak by birth and by name, but he has worked hard alongside them (there are more than a few stories of the Princess's then-tutor emerging after lessons to off his help to the janitorial staff, as if it were only natural that even a highborn man like himself would be willing to work), and he is as much theirs as he is the noble Oak Family's prodigal son.
It's not a pace that can be kept up forever, of course; it's an unspoken understanding that most of their allowances are because of the wild card presented by the wedding. In a couple of weeks, when the last lingering well-wishers have trickled back to their own homes, the royal court will rebound, hard-eyed and venomous and resistant to change. They will question any of redirection of funds, even those that do not go to the salaries of the rich and their spies will be slipping into place. Barsburg is a great old dragon, one whose wings spread wider and further than that of any other country, and there are parts of her head which are rotten and deeply-rooted. It will be a long time before all of that is excised and purified.
("I know it is not exactly what you want," she says to him softly, in the breath of space between their lips. "I am sorry for forcing this upon you."
"I said yes of my own free will, Ouka-sama," he murmurs back, equally quiet. To the onlookers, it merely looks like a long kiss, and she can feel the way his mouth turns up into a smile. "I want to see this country saved as much as you, and I believe you will be the one to do it. Therefore, to be your partner in this is the greatest honor I could imagine."
"And happiness?" she asks, softer now, as she pulls away, now a step away from him. The Bishop officiating their ceremony is smiling, she can see from the corner of one eye, but she can't look away from her new husband's face, and the way that his smile doesn't fade or change, reaching his eyes without effort.
"And happiness," he says, making her question the answer. He squeezes her hands. "If I have a wish granted today, then I hope my last one is a long time coming, so I may spend many years beside you.")
