The Long Road to Freedom Part 1: The Dastardly Prince

The Games End

Kuroihi resisted the urge to flatten the flea on her hand. This had always been annoying, but she'd found the sacrifice of a bit of blood in exchange for Myouga's loose lips was an even trade. He seemed to know everything about anything, and she would admit it had been a boon to her through her years in the field securing her own future.

He was the size of a small melon before he finally fell back in the grass, gorged and satisfied.

"Ah! That hit the spot. As always, thank you for the meal, and for not squishing me." He chuckled.

Kuroihi nodded her head respectfully but allowed herself to finally scratch at.

"It is an honor to serve my liege and his counsel. Is there anything else you require?"

"Oh, no no, you've done more than enough. I'll just wait around until the General returns."

He glanced over her shoulder, though she already knew who was coming.

"Oh! L-lord Sesshoumaru!"

The way he rippled as he tried to bow to the young lord was almost comical. From behind her came Sesshoumaru's rich, but annoyed, tones.

"Old Myouga, is it? My father is currently elsewhere, flea, or is it this Sesshoumaru you've come to speak with?"

The flee waved an arm.

"Oh, no no, just your father. N-not that I wouldn't come to offer your honorable self my counsel as well, but...uh..."

He seemed to realize he was digging himself into a hole and just nodded.

"I'll...Just...Go wait for your father."

He tilted himself forward and rolled off toward the castle gates. Kuroihi giggled.

"Something amuse you, hanyou?"

Sesshoumaru eyed her sharply as she rose and brushed the dirt from her hakama.

"Only Lord Myouga. My lord has a task for his humble vassal?"

"Indeed."

Something in his tone rang with foreboding as she followed him into his quarters. The mood shifted as she shut the door, similar to the nights where he would to her his most sordid commands. His eyes followed her as he motioned to the corner where his new kimono and armor sat on grand display. She was happy to distract herself with it, marveling at the pink-on-white flower design and rich blue obi. She could only imagine where it had come from, but the small white flower gave it away.

"A gift from your honorable mother?"

She glanced back at him.

Sesshoumaru simply nodded as he slipped off his current obi, handing it off to her. She took it and quickly turned away to fold it neatly, exerting every effort to ignore his soft sighs of relief and the rustling of silks. Deep in her belly, she could feel how he relaxed, letting his jyaki slowly fill the room with the suffocating weight of his power, pure and primal, threatening to consume her from inside and out as the drop of youki swelled within her. He felt like the coalescence of a demi-god, a manifestation of celestial savagery, and it made her tremble.

"Bring it to me."

His voice was deep and balmy, and she swallowed hard to free her voice from his intangible vice.

"My lord, please, should this not be Kazawa's duty?"

"The kimono, my hanyou."

He insisted in that deep melody she was sure he knew she could not refuse.

The ache in her chest grew with every motion as she carefully removed the garment from its stand, eyes set on the floor as she brought it to him. She slid the fabric along his arms, laying his collar just so and smoothing the ripples down his back. He turned in her hands, her fingertips following the lean dips and angles of his arms and chest as she crossed his lapels and tied it all in place. The hakama he graciously handled himself.

"My armor."

Irresistible once more, and she felt the weight of his gaze on her as she fetched each piece, strapping them in place and smoothing his kimono again so it wouldn't pinch or tear. She gave it a gentle tug here and there as Rekkonji had taught her to do, her hands trembling even as she found the armor solid.

"My obi," he breathed, tickling one of her tufted ears.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Surely he knew what he was doing to her. This was just another form of torture, punishment, but for what she did not know. She took her time wrapping his waist in rich blue, holding her breath as long as she could when she had to lean it close. It was no use and it didn't matter. The entire room was filled with his heady scent, and she was drowning in it. The demon inside her howled, clawing against her cage of plenary discipline.

'Focus. Focus, you can make it through this,' she thought, trying to ease the tightening coil of primordial need.

He caught her hand as she finished smoothing out the falls of his obi, his grip firm as he twisted her palm up, slipping the comb into her grasp. His fingers tightened for a moment; then he released her, turning sharply and sinking to the floor where he was, poised and controlled. Kuroihi took a breath, shoving down hard at the thing inside her before folding down to her knees behind him.

The time passed in a haze, and she found herself running her fingers through his satin-like hair, the comb discarded. Something rumbled deep in his chest, the youki in her belly thrumming to match the sound, warm and pleasant. The thing inside her howled again, breaking the spell that had befallen her, and she shook away mental fog.

She rose stiffly, putting several paces between them.

"My lord, it...it is finished."

He curled his arm back leisurely to inspect her work, letting his sleeve fall to expose the muscles of his arm, streaked with his signature fuchsia that tapered delicately at his wrist, elegantly defined.

He said nothing as he rose effortlessly, gliding dream-like through the door and down the halls to the courtyard where she knelt to tuck his hakama into his traveling boots with trembling hands. She drank in the fresh air, mindless of her idled state until she felt his foot press against her knee, his boot moving slowly along her calf to give her a gentle nudge out of his way. She shifted quickly and followed him into the grove outside the castle walls.

He paused and turned to face her, gaze chilled and piercing, touched with something almost foreign to his very nature as the wind once more caught his mokomoko to brush along her knees. He held her in gaze for some time, his pools of frozen honey-gold piercing straight through her.

Finally, he spoke; simple and direct. "Do as you please until I return." He stepped and rose to melt into the clouds high above.

The thing inside her howled once more, and she thought she would melt with the burning desire to follow him there.

There was that foreboding again... She laughed at herself as her head cleared and she came to realize the ploy.

'Don't be a sentimental fool, he's doing it on purpose, so you will stay. He knows that you want to leave.'

She pressed her hands to her chest over the pendant tucked neatly away under her kimono. Nothing she could think of justified any further delay.

It was time; before he found a way to twist her own desires and make her want to stay.