Completed: 8/2/01
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OF HONOR AND LOVE: a SORA Zannanza-POV fanfic
By Corbeau Noir & Seininya
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Disclaimer:
All rights and privileges to SORA WA AKAI KAWA NO HOTORI and
its characters belong to Shinohara Chie, and the distributors of her
work. The characters of this series are used without permission for
the purpose of entertainment only, and is not meant for sale or
profit.
Original portion of the fiction here belongs solely to the
authors.
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Author's notes:
For those interested or confused, *Zannanza* is known in the
Chinese version of SORA as *Saiyasha*. I've used the name Saiyasha
before in my fics, but after much research (yes, I did research for
this fanfic...^^;;), I found out that the real name of the historical
Hittite prince who died on the way to Egypt, was Zannanza. To the
doubters, I can only say, go look at the 2001 April issue of National
Geographic. Apparently Shinohara Chie did her research as well, since
Zannanza is also what she used in the original Japanese version of
SORA.
The places I mention in this fic really did exist around
1200 B.C. Anatolia, and I did not make up the information about Azzi-
Hayasa's metal deposits (told you I did research...^^;;). I also did
not make up the title of the "Great King", since that was really what
contemporaries in the ancient world called the king of the Hittite
Empire. Suppiluliumas was a real king who ruled at the height of
Hittite power, and Mursili a younger son who effectively took over
after his father's death. As for all the other people, well, your
guess is as good as mine.
Duugam and Narigu are original characters created by me. If
for some obscure reason you would like to borrow them, please ask me
first. My email's at the bottom.
Ok, enough with the notes. On with the story! ^_~
@}-->-->----
Corbeau Noir
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PART 1: NIGHTFALL
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The wind is shifting sand against me, heaving loads and loads
of it upon me with helpless abandon. It will not take long now for
the desert to completely bury the bodies of me and my men, to smother
us so far beneath this ancient desert that it would be as if we had
never been.
I do not worry too much though; I know by the time that happens
I would be in no position to care.
The desert wind blows sand into my ears, but I'm beyond such
discomfort. After all, what is a little sand compared to the arrow in
my gut and the poison that is coursing toward my brain even now as I
think of it?
And then I sigh to myself. At least she's gone. The desert
journey would be tough, but she would survive as she always have. She
will reach my brother, and tell him all that has happened here. The
two of them will find a resolve for this, and Nakia will finally be
revealed as the cold-blooded murderer that she is. My death would
then at least mean something. I only regret that I would not be there
to see it...
I cough a little, heaving up bits of my lungs along with the
blood and sand.
Of all the dismal futures I've envisioned for myself, never
could I have foreseen this. Death was not the surprise. I had always
prepared myself for death; death from sickness, death in battle, even
death from a knife in the back due to the inevitable lover squabbles
I sometimes found myself in. But to die from poison, of treachery, is
something I had always reserved for people of importance, among whom
I had never considered myself.
But then again, my wildest ambitions could never have prepared
me for being chosen as consort to the Egyptian queen. If all things
had gone as planned, I should now be on my way to Egypt... On my way
to being crowned pharaoh...
A spasm of pain shakes me, reminding me of the present.
It is proving increasingly difficult to concentrate on my
thoughts, and the wailing in my head is drowning out any coherent
thought I could form. This mental cacophony is what I hate most about
the poison I'd unwittingly taken. I am almost glad of the arrow in my
gut then, for Nakia knows her stuff too well, and death by having my
brains slowly eaten by poison had never been first on my list of
priorities.
The pain slowly recedes, but the roaring in my head remains.
The voices in my head are saying something. If I concentrate, I can
almost understand them...
/...foolish, pathetic little orphan boy.../ the voices taunt.
/...you thought you could be pharaoh...you thought you could be
king...you thought...you thought.../
There is a jeering echo, and then a brief silence as the voices
pause to gather strength for the final blow.
/You are NOTHING...Never have been and now, never will.../
As if that was not enough, the wind punctuates that last
statement with a malicious cackle, sounding suspiciously like a
disembodied Nakia.
I almost answer that laughter with a laugh of my own, for it is
then that I realize, with a morbid sense amusement, that the poison
must have finally worked its way to my brain. The end should not be
too long now. The poison scrambles up a person's mind so badly, I
wonder if I would even realize I'm dying in my last few minutes of
life.
As I wait out the last couple of hours left to me, with only
the desert wind as a sympathetic witness, I think of how my life has
finally come full circle. I realize then that the universe must have
a sense of humor. The situation of my death is oddly fitting in a
way. For alone was how I had spent the earliest of my days, and it is
now how I will spend my last.
My mother died very early on in my life and my earliest
memories were that of being an orphan, of being someone no one ever
wanted or cared for. The fact that my father was still alive and in
good health was irrelevant, for in my eyes he might as well have been
dead. Apparently, that was what he thought of me as well.
I had thought that the bitterness and the cold dismissal I had
come to know as the sum of my young years would be my life forever.
But then one day, for no apparent reason, the Queen took me in, took
in the useless orphan boy no wanted and welcomed me as a part of her
family. She was nothing like the second queen that King Suppiluliuma
would eventually take. No, Mursili's mother was kind, too kind. And I
always loved that kindness even though in the end it was that very
kindness of heart that was her undoing.
I cannot say my childhood was not happy, for it was, under the
circumstances. I grew up with the Queen's son, my half-brother
Mursili. He was good to me, never once denouncing me for my lower
station of birth as the other royal children were wont to do,
treating me as if we had both sprung from the same womb. We are as
close as royal brothers could be. Even now he would insist I call him
by his milk name, Kail, and to pacify him I would, though in a part
of my mind he would always be Mursili II, the third prince, second to
the throne of the Hittite Empire.
My life has been good, certainly more privileged than I'm
deserving of as the son of a mere handmaiden. Yet I have always felt
discontent and empty, as if something was missing from my life. And
until I met *her*, I never truly knew what it meant to feel happy. Or
perhaps happiness is too simple a word, for how can one truly be
happy when you know your feeling must never be uttered aloud, when
she can never be yours?
I had tried hiding it behind a smile and lame jokes, but at
night, when I could no longer escape from myself, treacherous
thoughts I managed to push away in the light of day would come back
to haunt me, tempting me. And I am ashamed to admit that sometimes I
am almost persuaded to accept them, that I can almost disregard the
consequences that such action might bring both upon her and my
brother.
For ever since I met her, my nights had been occupied by one
person...a girl...
Yuuri.
Yuuri, known to many as the goddess of war, as my brother's
sole concubine. But more importantly, to a few such as myself, she is
also known as his love.
He may try to deny it, of course, but I know him better than
anyone else; he has never looked upon any woman or girl the way he
looks at her. And for his sake, I should stop thinking such thoughts,
which are not only disloyal but also dishonorable.
For his sake and hers, I should stop thinking...
It is so dark now. Is it night already? It shouldn't be. My
mind might be going under the poison, but I do know there must be
plenty more hours of daylight left. The sun should be in the zenith
now. I imagine right now Mursili must be relaxing in his palace, with
Yuuri by his side. Those two are stuck at the hips, those two are.
She's never far from him, and that brother of mine never too far from
her. He's always watching over her, never letting her out of his
sight. My brother has always been very possessive, comes from him
going to be king one day, I suppose. And she always did bring out the
sheepdog in him. Heh, even so, I still managed to steal her from
under his nose that one time, like taking candy from a...
Oops. Bad Zannanza. Bad, bad, bad...
Shouldn't think like that.
The desert is so quiet at night. I never knew the desert could
be this quiet. There's no sound at all, or maybe it's simply that I
no longer hear. I realize my mistake now; I must have dozed off,
that's why it's so dark now. Nakia must have given her henchman the
wrong dosage, and the poison must not have worked. And an arrow to
the gut is not that big of a deal. I have been through worse---even
if I can't remember it now. I must be recovering. I think all I need
is rest just a little longer, and soon I'll be able to find my way
back to Hattusas, the capital. Hmm. Why am I even out here in the
middle of nowhere, I have no idea. Must have gotten lost.
The stars are so pretty. Like her eyes. We went stargazing
once, she and I. Only the two of us, no Mursili in sight. Only for a
minute, but I remember. I wonder if she's with him now.
Is that a breeze I feel? I can hardly feel the sand against my
face anymore, can hardly feel the pain. No more pain. With a sigh, I
let the last of my muscles fall limp.
I'm so very tired. But I really shouldn't sleep here; it's too
cold. I think it'll be okay if I just close my eyes for a while
though. Close my eyes just for a little while. I promise I'll go back
home soon, but for now I just want to rest.
It'll be all right, I think, if I think of her just this one
time. He won't know, she won't know, and what they don't know can't
hurt them. Just this once I want to forget about honor. Mursili
always did say I had too much honor for my own good.
Just this once, and then never again.
Sleep is fast approaching; I can feel my consciousness bleeding
from me. There's not much time left. And so I allow myself the guilty
pleasure of thinking of her one last time...
Yuuri...
My brother's love.
And yes, mine as well...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[a year and a half ago]
"Way, way! Way for the Fourth Prince, son of the Great King
Suppiluliumas!"
The streets are packed with jostling people, the soldiers and
occasional palace slaves crowding together with the peddlers,
porters, stray dogs, and stray children. It would be almost
impossible to move anything as big as a horse, not to mention a two-
horse chariot, through this swarming horde if not for the single
traffic regulation that makes life so much easier...for the people
with influence that is.
"Way for the Fourth Prince!"
For anyone, from the highest official to the smallest beggar
boy, can tell you that a journey through the lower-city streets of
Hattusas is the truest exercise in how high one has climbed so far in
the social hierarchy. After all, if you are important enough, people
move aside for you, and you in turn make way for the even more
important people.
I watch sympathetically, grimacing as the crowd is forced to
crush into itself on the all too narrow streets of the capital in
order to make way for the ponderous horses and chariots of me and my
men.
Like everyone else in this sprawling city, I am all too
familiar with the tenet that dictates the right-of-way to the one
with the higher social status. However, I am still getting used to
people actually moving out of *my* way, since only a few years ago
the opposite had been quite the norm. Even now I'm not entirely
comfortable with this change.
"Way for the favored Fourth Son of the Great King!"
Involuntarily, my mouth twists into a bitter grimace. I
suppress the urge to glare at the overly pompous public crier, and
instead keep my eyes resolutely fixed on the road in front of me.
Even without ignorant fools like the man in front of me to
remind me, it is always a bitter point to know I am anything but
'favored' in the eyes my royal father. In view of my recent string of
military victories in the Gasga Lands, many people have mistaken the
grudgingly given approval of the king to a successful general, which
King Suppiluliumas only gave because propriety demanded it, for favor
given from a father to a son.
I smile mockingly at myself; once King Suppiluliumas receives
the latest reports of my diplomatic negotiations with the
northeastern kingdom of Azzi-Hayasa, any hope of gaining my royal
father's approval in the near future would also be gone.
At least there would no be any more pretence.
"Way for the Honored Son!
Quietly and, I hope, tactfully, I suppress a scowl that is
threatening to grow on my face. The public crier in front of me
really is beginning to get on my nerves.
"Prince Zannanza!"
That didn't sound like the old man's voice.
Shaking myself from my inner-musings, I raise my head just in
time to see a red-colored projectile flying towards me. Reflexively,
my body moves to a side and my hand darts out to snatch the foreign
object from the air.
"Your Highness!" one of the guards cries out in alarm, moving
to intercept the perpetrator in the crowd.
I wave away the man's concern with my free hand. This does not
have the feel of an attack. Curious, I slowly open my fist to reveal
the semi-crushed petals of a crimson bloom. Already the flower is
beginning to stain my hands a shade of purple. I doubt it is anything
dangerous, but still...
A flower?
"Prince Zannanza!"
I look up sharply. It was that young girl's voice again.
The chariot is making good time on the streets, and I almost
don't catch a glimpse of the vigorously waving flower girl. The
sunlight glances off her gleaming black locks, the overly bright
light obscuring her features. After a moment, I grin back at her,
mouthing a silent thanks as I wave the flower in the air. Then the
chariot rounds the corner and the crowd with the flower girl is lost
in the dust.
"Still got the touch, eh, your highness?" the swarthy man at
the front of the two-man chariot drawls, winking mischievously at my
suddenly cheerful expression.
I chuckle at my second-in-command, carefully fastening the red
flower in the front of my breast-guard. "I think you've got me mixed
up with my dear older brother, Duugam," I reply in good humor,
grinning.
Duugam took his eyes from the road, letting the horses have
their head as they wind through the familiar streets leading to my
palace. He gives me a rueful sigh. "That brother of yours really is a
fine piece of work." He pauses, then continuing in a sly voice, "So,
ever ask him what's his secret?"
I smile a little, thinking of how the exploits of my older
brother Mursili more often than not provide enough fodder to last a
year for the palace gossip. I could always count on my dynamic
brother to be at the base of every scandal. Thankfully though,
Mursili always knew when to rein it in.
"Not really, though I did once overhear one of his mistresses
saying it's all in the eyes." Shrugging indifferently, I take the
reins from Duugam's hands. "I guess gold is very appealing, though I
suspect it has more to do with that mysterious aura he always carries
with him. Besides," and my lips quirk upwards in a wry grin, "the
women loves a challenge."
Duugam makes a face. "Mystery and challenge, huh?"
He opens his mouth to express exactly what he thought of those
two particular qualities. But before he could get anywhere into the
doubtful tastes of women and the injustice of life, the chariot
rounded the hill and my palace rose into view.
In my mind I let lose a prayer of thanks to Ishtar. As
dependable in battle and as likable as Duugam was, brilliant
conversationalist he wasn't and I wasn't ready to hear another spiel
of his on the merits of manhood.
The chariot came to a thundering stop in front of the palace
gate. Before the dust has even settled, the palace gates are swung
open and a troop of servants rushes out to take the horses and
chariots from us.
A timid voice came from the ground beside me, "We are glad to
have you safely back with us, Prince Zannanza."
I glance down to see a young server boy, whom I had never
before seen, smiling shyly up at me from the ground. I smile back and
almost immediately a bright red flushes across the boy's cheeks.
Flustered, the young boy rushes to take the reins of the chariot from
my hands. Bemused, I let him.
It was hero-worship, that I could readily tell from the obvious
signs after having seen it all too often among my brother's men. Why
though, is a mystery to me and not as easily uncovered. After all, I
reflect to myself, I am only one among many of the Great King's sons,
not exactly special...Not like Mursili.
I make a note to have my head-of-staff stop inviting in all
those wandering bards. Narigu must have been doing what she calls,
'bolstering staff moral', which basically involves throwing a feast
complete with take home baskets and a story-telling bard. Bards love
to stretch the truth, and I suspect they've turned my past encounters
with the Gasga People into something resembling that of a Babylonian
siege.
Which would explain the young boy's unusual hero-worship.
I step out of the chariot in order to allow the grooms to
untether the horses, and Duugam jumps out after me. Absently, I
notice that many of the new serving boys my head-of-staff must have
hired in my absence couldn't be more than five years younger than
myself at the most. I watch the new stable boys just long enough to
confirm that the horses were in able hands before turning to follow
Duugam into the inner courtyard.
It is a relief to finally have the earth of my native land
firmly beneath me after endless months mired in a foreign kingdom,
and for a moment I had to resist an impulse to throw myself upon the
ground and kiss it. Instead, a warm gust of wind ruffles through my
hair and, taking a deep breath, I catch the scent of newly budding
flowers nearby.
Spring is finally here, and truly the city of Hattusas has
never looked more inviting.
It had been a weary set of months, being caught in the middle
of the endless political machinations that constituted the affairs of
state in the land of Azzi-Hayasa. My father, King Suppiluliumas, the
current ruler of the Hittite Empire, had already sent in previous
years numerous diplomats to that northeastern Anatolia kingdom in an
attempt to win access to their metal-deposits, but each time every
diplomatic overture had been systematically rejected.
I don't know why he thought sending me would result in a
different outcome. But I do know this: He would see this failure
solely as my own shortcoming.
Though the real negotiations had been over a long time ago, my
duties as diplomat to Azzi-Hayasa had only been formally concluded
four days prior when a letter from the capital had summoned me back
to the Hittite capital. I am not exactly looking forward to the
inevitable denunciation that would come once my royal father learns
that yet again his desire to have a permanent footing in Azzi-Hayasa
has been thwarted.
I suppress an involuntary shudder. No, I am not looking forward
to the debriefing at all.
With some effort, I manage to shelf away that concern until it
came up. There is really nothing else I can do now, and I am
determined not to let that particular thundercloud in the future ruin
my satisfaction at finally being home.
"Prince Zannanza!" a woman's youthful voice calls from behind
me. I turn, pleasantly surprised to see the girl-slender figure of my
head-of-staff striding towards me, a wide-toothed grin on her
naturally tan face. "Thank goodness you're finally back!"
She reaches up and envelopes me in a familiar bone-crushing
hug, one which I gladly returned in full force.
"It's good to be back, Narigu," I murmur huskily into her wisps
of copper hair, glad to finally be home among people I trust.
We stayed like that for an indeterminable length of time, when
abruptly, Narigu pulls away from me, her nose scrunched up in
distaste. "By the gods, what have you been doing? Sleeping with the
horses?"
I laugh at her expression. Even as a child, she never did like
the grime and dirt of camp-life. As a result, Narigu hardly ever set
foot outside the city.
"Well, I did manage to get back here under a month," I tug
playfully at her auburn curls, "so sleeping with the horses isn't
that much of a sacrifice."
Shaking her head disapprovingly, she takes a hold of my sleeve
with her thumb and index finger. Clucking her tongue in mock horror,
she scolds, "You, my dear man, need a bath." And without further
ceremony, she proceeds to drag me out of the courtyard.
It was in such a way that I allowed myself to be led to the
bathhouse. I couldn't help but grin as I listen to her shouting
orders to the maids we passed along the way. Some of the new ones
she'd hired in my absence were obviously shocked to see the prince
being manhandled in such a way. One almost dropped the basketful of
crockery she was gingerly carrying, but regained her balance in
record time when Narigu shot her a pointed look.
Yes, I had missed this. Narigu is like an older sister to me.
Having so young a head-of-staff is highly unorthodox, but she got the
job done in a way the ones before her hadn't.
Speaking of unorthodox...
"So," I begin, smiling in anticipation of the answer, "How has
my brother been doing lately?" By 'brother', Narigu know I am
referring only to the third of my father's numerous sons, Mursili. In
my mind, I have only one brother. "Is he still up to his old tricks?"
"Oh, you won't believe this, but Prince Mursili's finally taken
a concubine."
I froze in midstep. "What?"
"Apparently she's not from around here, and you can't imagine
the rumors that's been going around..." Narigu chatters on.
I stopped hearing.
Mursili... Taken a concubine...
Mursili...
Taken...
A...
Concubine...
The words repeated themselves over and over in my mind, the
pounding of the blood in my ears growing steadily louder with each
passing syllable.
...a...con...cu...bine...
A snarl rips through the air. It takes me a moment to realize
it'd come from me.
I had accepted my older brother's playboy tendencies a long
time ago, but this time Mursili had gone too far.
In a far-off corner of my mind, I notice Narigu is staring, a
confused and frightened look on her face. She had been calling my
name for some time now. The insistent worry in her voice brings me
back from my daze.
Shaking my head to clear it from the haze of anger, I give her
an apologetic look. My face still feels stiff though, so I know that
anger is still in my expression. "I'm sorry, but I need to see my
brother immediately."
I turn to go, foot set in the direction of the stables.
"Zannanza, wait!"
Abidingly, I stop, turning to look at her curiously.
Tentatively, Narigu reaches out to clasp my hand in hers.
"Zannanza," she says, her voice soft and obscure with some
indefinable emotion, "You should rest first." She hesitates a little,
but continues anyway, "Give yourself time to calm down; nothing good
ever came from actions carried out in the rashness of anger."
I smile, appreciating her concern for me. "Don't worry, Narigu.
The news just took me by surprise, that's all." Gently, I disengage
my hands from hers. "I'm fine now."
And without further words, I leave Narigu behind.
Striding into the stables, I head for the first few horses I
see. Wrenching the reins from the hands of a dumbfounded horse boy, I
swing myself back into the chariot. Then with a harsh yell, I tear
past my bewildered guards who barely manage to swing open the palace
gates in time. I went thundering down into the city.
Steering the chariot came automatically to me, handling the
horses a skill as natural as breathing. The wind whips past me and I
am left once more to my thoughts.
So, my brother has taken a concubine.
Now, if this had been anyone else, I could care less. After
all, most men my brother's age and status have harems of four or more
before they can even count the whiskers on their first beard. But
Mursili is different..._was_ different, I amend furiously as I went
plunging down a hill.
My blood pressure once more rose to dangerous levels, and I
growl as a courtier's slave-borne litter temporarily obstructs my
path. The pungent perfume drifting from the silken confines of the
litter makes my head reel, and for a moment I had to restrain myself
from doing bodily harm to the occupant of the litter.
A part of me wonders whether I should have taken Narigu's
advice.
Before I even realize it, I find myself already at the front
entrance of my brother's palace. The horses are foaming at mouth from
how hard I've driven them, and usually I would be horrified to see
any animal in such a condition.
I dismiss my concern for the horses until later. Tensely, I
take one step toward my brother's residence.
I need to see the woman who'd made Mursili forsake our
childhood vow.
As a habitual visitor to this place, the guards at the gate
make no move to stop me as I stride purposefully past the entrance of
my older brother's palace. Barely acknowledging the differential bow
they give me, I storm into the courtyard.
"Brother!" I shout. "Mursili!"
Out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of a frazzled
herald hurrying ahead to announce my arrival. Irritably, I brush past
the sputtering man, my eyes strained intently for any signs of my
brother or even, my lips curl up in a sneer, that concubine of his.
"Come out Mursili! I know you're here!"
"Zannanza!" a smoky baritone calls out in surprise.
I turn toward that familiar voice just in time to see my
striking golden-haired, golden-eyed brother emerging from behind the
ornamental palace shrubbery.
"Zannanza," he repeats, a faint perplexed frown on his face,
"What is this all about?"
The genuinely bemused look on his face makes me grit my teeth
in frustration.
"Don't try to pretend, _Kail_," I say icily, biting out the
diminutive name that Mursili had used as a child. "So who is it?
Which one have you put in your harem?"
My brother keeps a genial expression on his face, his pleasant
demeanor never once wavering as though he does not detect the
undercurrents of anger and bitter betrayal in my voice. However, the
barely perceptible hardening of his eyes tells me otherwise.
"Brother," he states, his tone still friendly but with a touch
of coldness to show that the insinuations are unappreciated. "It is
not as you think." He pauses, then slowly continues as if he could
hear the unflattering thoughts running through my head, "_She_ is not
as you think."
He stares me down, daring me to challenge that last statement.
Against my will, I find myself intrigued by this woman who has
Mursili so riled up that he would feel it necessary to defend her
honor even at the risk of alienating me, his brother and best friend
since birth. She must be special...
I stiffen, the scowl returning in full force. I refuse to
weaken so far as to tolerate this betrayal of trust, no matter how
*special* this concubine might turn out to be. Has my brother
forgotten? Has he forgotten everything? We had grown up together,
had _seen_ what our father's other wives had done to our mothers.
We had sworn on the deathbed of the first Queen to never inflict such
misery on anyone, that our respective wives would never have to know
the lonely nights and harem intrigues.
But now, my brother has gone and taken a concubine.
I glare balefully at Mursili.
Such betrayal cannot to be forgiven.
Taking a few steps toward me, Mursili lays a hand on my
shoulder. I shrug him off coldly.
All of a sudden an air of immense weariness drops over the
features of my older brother. He sighs, raking his hand through his
blond hair as he visibly struggles to put his thoughts to words.
"Zannanza," he finally speaks, "Give her a chance. I'll explain
everything later." He pauses, then adds quietly, "Please."
I look up at him in surprise. This has to be the closest to
begging my proud brother has ever come. Looking into the molten gold
of his eyes, I find apology---for me?, regret---for the past?, and
wistfulness---
The first two emotions I understood their source, but for what-
--or should I say, for *whom* was the last feeling for? Was it---I
pause, fighting to stop myself from filling in the blank with a less
than flattering word---was it for this new concubine he'd taken?
Sighing in defeat, I relent reluctantly.
"Fine."
Mursili looked relieved. He open his mouth to say something---
what, I would never know, for the words died on his tongue when he
noticed who had just entered the courtyard.
As soon as I realized my brother's eyes are no longer on me, a
sense of apprehension fills me. Stiffening, I slowly turn to face what
had captured Mursili's complete attention.
I notice the young woman immediately. Her hair like spun gold,
her cinnamon eyes sparkling, everything that would suggest the girl
with whom my brother is smitten with. Truly, she is lovely, this
woman whom Mursili has forsaken his vow for. A sharp sense of
disappointment flickers through me. Another pretty face...Soon she
will be just another simpering fool crawling along the palace, broken
beneath Mursili's domineering will.
My face, however, reveals no trace of my thoughts. Lifting my
lips into the semblance of a smile for my brother's mistress, I walk
over to her. Taking one of her hands in mine, I brush my lips gently
against the back of her hand. I smile up at the woman.
"This must be your new concubine, brother. She's beautiful."
An uncomfortable silence follows that statement. Mursili is
exhibiting a strange combination of amusement and consternation. The
girl, I note, has a mortified expression on her face. Bewildered, I
turn to my brother for help. "What...?" This isn't the reaction I
was expecting.
The young woman gently interrupts me, "Actually, Prince
Zannanza, my name is Heidi and I serve Yuuri-sama."
And saying so, she steps aside to reveal a girl whose presence
had previously eluded me.
Her unruly black hair barely crops her ears, making her look
even younger than she already is. Slim, hardly reaching my shoulders
in height, with smoldering black eyes like a night sky with the stars
burned out.
"This is Yuuri-sama."
She looks like a boy.
"Her?!' I blurt out, incredulous.
The girl flushes, her dark eyes flashing to meet mine defiantly.
"Yes, I'm Yuuri."
"But she's..." I sputter haplessly.
"Fifteen," Mursili supplies helpfully, arching an amused
eyebrow at my reaction.
I look doubtfully at her, eyeing the girl with obvious
reservations. "Well, um..." I am at a loss for words. If nothing
else, she certainly is different from what I had expected.
Yuuri's face is still flushed with wounded pride, but her eyes
challenge me unflinchingly.
Bemused, I consider this enigma of a spitfire.
From this close up, her femininity is obvious. There is no
doubt she's all girl; the loose white tunic she wears cannot quite
conceal the slight swell of chest, nor completely the narrow waist
and curved hips. For a moment I wonder why she styles her hair so;
the gleaming black locks are cut almost brutally short, wild bangs
falling haphazardly over her exotically slanted eyes.
Exotic eyes, which are even now looking at me in bemusement.
Abruptly, I realize I am staring. Mursili watches me, a
curiously neutral expression on his face.
Flushing a little in chagrin, I hastily recollect my thoughts
and bow low to the small dark-haired girl in front of me in apology.
"Ah, please forgive my rudeness, Yuuri-sama. I meant no disrespect."
"Just plain Yuuri will do."
Surprised, I raise my head to look at her. She smiled then, and
all of a sudden it was as if the sun came out of the clouds for me.
Her eyes lit, staggering me with their power and brilliance. Like a
moth drawn to a flame.
/...she's the one.../
The thought came so soft, and was gone so quickly; I wondered
if I even heard it at all.
"Well, Zannanza?"
I start in surprise. "Huh? What?"
Mursili is beckoning toward me, his face still carefully
guarded. "Are you joining us for dinner or not?"
"Oh, of course." But before I turn to follow him, I pause to
glance once more at the girl.
Why did someone such as she become my brother's concubine?
[End PART 1]
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Authors' Endnotes:
Seininya: This is my first time writing fanfiction. ^^;
Corbeau: And this is my first time writing in first person POV, so
please forgive any kinks in the writing. This entire delving into
Zannanza's skin is much harder than I thought...^^;;;
Seininya: Our storyline is going to be slightly different from the
canon, but that'll only make it more interesting, ne?
Corbeau: And for all you Kail+Yuuri lovers, don't worry. A different
storyline will not mean Yuuri being paired off with Saiyasha. As a
matter of fact, I'm as ardent a Kail+Yuuri supporter as you can get!
*^-^*
Seininya: As for the upcoming PART 2...
Corbeau: Seininya has already written the first draft, so it
shouldn't be long before we update.
Seininya: You mean, if you actually ever get to editing the fic.
Corbeau: Yeah, that too......^^;
Seininya: Well, that's all for PART 1. Hope you liked it. ^___^
Corbeau: BTW, don't forget to send us your comments and critiques!
We'll love to hear from you. ^_~
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E-mail the authors at doppelganger03@hotmail.com
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