A wedding in the Hall of Kings.

It was a pleasant day, with a brisk wind blowing clouds quickly across the bright blue sky. Plumed horses and polished carriages delivered the guests to the great double doors of the hall and smartly attired footmen at the door ushered guests to their galleries sheltered under sheer colored banners. Sitting smartly beside each footman was a well-trained fleethound, there for no other reason than the elegance of their lines. In their chairs at the back of the hall, the Crown Prince sat with his consort and around them fluttered a handful of Komaru. In the most prominent gallery, Toyokuni Sone stood with his uncle, while other members of the Komaru family lined the aisles.

Gahariet Komaru wasn't particularly pleased to be here, but they'd insisted and he'd heard quite a bit about the bride. He couldn't spot her, though, so he studied those around the thrones for a few moments, picking out Her Grace Mei Komaru, standing near the edge of the carpet looking even more somber than usual. Then he found Zoe on his left and nudged her. Zoe was always keenly aware of people in the capital and she had the most amazing ear for the dirtier pieces of news about the more unpleasant sides of court life. He hissed to her, "What's going on? She's late again, isn't she?"

Zoe shrugged one slim shoulder and looked through bleached-red bangs at her brother. "Of course. Tohru is apparently ready to go out hunting for her." She nodded towards the anteroom that she couldn't possibly see but Gahariet, much taller, could. "Poor Aimee."

Gahariet squinted and could just make out the pale-clad thin figure of Aimee Komaru, the groom's sister, as she stood under the archway of the anteroom, staring out at the crowd. Behind her, there was motion and a sigh crossed the crowds like a ripple. Zoe said unnecessarily, "She's here now."

*

Aimee had maintained her composure this long by simply not thinking about anything at all. The crowd was a sea of colors, no more, and her brother's frantic pacing behind her was almost normal. Soon it would be over. Arabelle's breathy voice singing out a smug greeting to the gathered celebrants in the anteroom was no more than the chirping of an obnoxious bird and the babble of voices that greeted her was just the wind. She was numb, numb and perfectly composed. Her hands were loose at her sides and soon it would be time to turn and smile for her brother. Soon...

Obedient to the restraints of society, Aimee turned to face Arabelle, watched as she trailed her hand across Tohru's arm. Arabelle smiled sweetly at Midoko, waved her fingers at Sana in the corner, adjusted her dress, allowed a maid to tuck flowers into her hair. Soon her brother's bride would advance on her, embrace her as a sister. Soon...

Aimee stiffened in shock as Arabelle enfolded her in a silken embrace. Purple-dyed locks framed the Sone woman's face and the odor of sex clung to her hair and the nape of her neck. There were faint, fresh bite marks on her collarbone, just covered by the neckline of her gown. As Arabelle released her and gave her the friendliest smile, her eyes diamond-bright, Aimee felt her precious numbness drain away. In its place rose a formless panic and under the tight lid of her composure, her heart tied itself in knots. Everybody knew Arabelle was completely shameless, that this marriage was a mockery of all the family. Everybody knew that Arabelle was beautiful and charming, that she could twist almost anyone around her finger. Everybody knew, but only Aimee had to face down the crushing horror of her brother slowly being destroyed by the bitch. She trembled as Arabelle and Tohru moved past her, her gaze tracing Tohru's proud, nervous face and then dropping to the marks on Arabelle's neck, hidden now by her gown. Then the crowd was murmuring as the couple was among them, making their stately way to the Crown Prince at the back of the hall and she had to close her eyes and swallow the ache in her throat before she could raise her chin and be the lady she was bred to be.

*

Arabelle really was astonishingly lovely, Gahariet observed clinically. He remembered Tohru as a charming, talented, and very straightforward young man and he wondered how he'd ended up involved with a Sone, especially one like this. He supposed he could get the story from Zoe if he wanted it badly enough. He wasn't sure he cared enough.

The couple made their way up the central aisle together, and the Crown Prince rose to greet them. Alessandro clasped Tohru's shoulder warmly and gave Arabelle a polite kiss on the cheek, before standing back to study the couple. There was a pause, long, longer, and Zoe whispered to Gahariet, "Look, you can practically see her purring. She'd adore it if somebody stopped the wedding." Zoe's gaze darted away, towards the anteroom, and back to the marriage, quickly.

Then Alessandro cleared his throat and began to speak. Tohru and Arabelle faced each other, Arabelle's lips faintly parted as she gazed up at Tohru. Tohru's shoulders were very straight and radiated nervous tension as the Crown Prince's words flowed across the celebrants and the audience. Gahariet was not particularly entertained and went back to watching the audience. After the ceremony there would be the reception, and socializing. He would be flirted with; the family elders would inquire solicitously after his health. His gaze passed over the face he could not forget and he closed his eyes, turned his face away to reject the sight and wished he had not come.

When he opened his eyes again, he found he was looking at Aimee in the back, in the corner, near the anteroom archway still. She was holding a flower entwined between her fingers, one of the blooms in the bride's hair, and every so often her lips would part, as if she were about to speak out, and then her mouth would clamp shut.

*

Aimee prayed. Soon, soon. If something was going to happen, it had to be soon. She watched, breathing raggedly, suppressing panic, as the Crown Prince's words turned from the general to the specific and the pause Arabelle had insisted be there for any challenges to the marriage to come forward crept closer. The stem of the blossom was crushed between her fingers and green liquid stained her hands, trickling down to stain her nails where she rolled petals from the flower between her fingers.

The Crown Prince paused his speech, glancing about the crowd with a sardonic amusement on his face, and Aimee's heart leapt in hope and she glanced around the room, barely aware of the brightness at the edges of her vision.

There were a few quiet chuckles from the crowd as the silence stretched on, and Arabelle looked around happily.

The Crown Prince began to speak again and the bright lights at the edge of Aimee's vision spread. She shook her head wildly and darkness danced with the light as it struggled to obscure her vision. She blinked back pain again and set her jaw. It wasn't over yet. Perhaps the miracle was late.

*

Gahariet watched Aimee shred the flower as the ceremony continued. Red petals dropped, one by one, to the ground, each sliced and scored by the lady's manicured nails. Gahariet glanced down at his own long-sleeved tunic and back again at the petals dropping to the ground. Around him, there was a surge of breath and movement from the crowd, and then amused applause as Arabelle pulled Tohru to her in a passionate kiss. The crowd flowed and moved like a living thing and Gahariet scowled and rose to his feet as the many-legged beast obscured his view of Aimee. Then the crowd parted, and he realized she was gone.

He looked towards the newly married couple, but they were obscured by the crowd already moving towards the reception set up in the gardens outside. Then he fought his way through the crowds to where the little pile of petals had been swirled into the air by the passage of sweeping skirts. He caught one in his hand and the unsettled fascination Aimee had inspired him crystallized into a terrible, upsetting certainty. He swore like a duelist to himself and thrust himself through the crowd again, noting with a distant, savage pleasure when he stepped on a Sone woman's foot and almost knocked a pretty Touraine boy down. He hated them all. She'd stood there in the silence, her heart in her eyes, and they'd laughed and her shoulders had bowed in a defeat he knew so well. He had to find her.

*

Aimee fled from the Hall of Kings and into the gardens. Her eyes were dry, but blinded all the same and she guided herself like an animal, shying away from the sounds of laughter and life. At last she tripped and fell to her knees. There was paving beneath her skinned hands and slowly she began to focus again. She'd entered a courtyard sheltered by tall hedges and had fallen near a fountain where mournful maiden poured water. In the distance, she could still hear the sounds of laughter and talking. Whimpering, she pulled her knees close to her chest and scooted closer to the pool of water.

She breathed for a moment, only breathed, and tried to find a light in the darkness. There had been no miracle, nobody had saved her brother from the bitch. She hadn't even been able to do it, been able to take any of the options open to her.

She made herself breathe again, because admitting that made her hurt so much her heart felt as if it were exploding. She'd been there for him so long, been so patient. She'd done her best to be perfect and then somebody her brother thought was more perfect than she had taken him and would now spend the rest of their lives humiliating and hurting him, and because he was sweet and noble and loved her, he would never defend himself.

She could not save him, and she could no bear the thought of watching him chase after Arabelle as the bitch laughed at him and laughed at her and laughed at all of the Komaru. Her heart threatened to overwhelm her again, but her eyes were still so dry. They were grainy with their dryness. She had to do it quickly, before she lost control.

From her dress, she pulled a slender knife.

For a moment she stared into the water, seeing Tohru awkward and proud as Arabelle smugly cradled a redheaded infant, seeing Tohru's fine hair graying as he paced in a restless circle, wondering where his love was this time, never ever wondering with whom. Then she saw him curled around a pillow in his empty, huge bed, staring with wide, lonely, confused eyes at where his wife should be sleeping, tousles of hair falling over his forehead.

For a third time, the pain in her heart threatened to crush her, and she slashed wildly at her wrist with the knife and held it out to let the blood flow into the pool. It dripped in heavy, thick drops into the water where it spread and began to separate and she thought of her friends, so quiet at the end, of her family, allowing Tohru this marriage because of who Arabelle was. She thought of Arabelle pulling Tohru to her triumphantly after the ceremony was over and the marks of another lover on her collarbone, and she raised the knife to slash her arm again, dizzily.

Before the blade could come sweeping down, one hand closed over her bleeding wrist tightly and the other one darted across her to knock the knife from her hand into the water. A voice growled curses at her and she blinked her dry eyes at the tall figure crouched over her. She had to squeeze her eyes shut and open them again before she could focus enough to recognize a man, vaguely familiar, Komaru. Then he was ripping the sleeve off his shirt and binding her wrist with it and she shook her head and mutely pushed him away. He didn't understand. There was no room for her in Tohru's life now, and without Tohru, there was nothing.

He was shaking her, saying something to her, but it was all the music of birds, and the song of the wind, and the rush of the fountain. She looked, up, away, at the red-stained marble paving. He would have to leave eventually. And then she looked down at the bare hand still clamped over her wound and the blood covering it and saw the neat lengthwise scar on his wrist and remembered him as Gahariet, Zoe and Lissende's elder brother, reclusive on his estates because his lover had betrayed him.

"You hurt yourself..." She realized she'd spoken, barely recognized her own voice, and that her uninjured hand was tracing the scar on his arm. She glanced up at him and he settled his free hand more gently on her shoulder.

"Yes. Aimee..." he said helplessly, glancing down at his own scar.

She said helplessly, "I love him. I love him and he's gone where I can't ever reach him again, and I can't stand the thought of watching her slowly destroy him. I love him..." and then she was sobbing on Gahariet's shoulder as he held her awkwardly with one arm, patting her hair, and muttered imprecations against humanity in general to her.

Above them, the wind blew clouds together, and then, quietly, it began to rain.