Chapter Text
Prologue
Wedding bells.
Who knew such a joyous sound could be so hollow?
Though, as boring and hollow as it sounded, within each chime, Satoru found mild relief.
Since he was a boy of barely eight, he had believed that he'd grow up to wed his cousin, the Duchess of the Northern lands, Mei Mei.
She was beautiful the way all Gojo were, and blessed with a fertility sigil at birth…
Though she was twelve years his senior.
And Satoru had always seen her as more of an awkward aunt than his fiancée.
As fate would have it, the stars revealed to him a different path that he leapt to take.
He'd grown to be a powerful, and respectable warrior on the field, but his prowess in the courts was lacking, and his skill with a blade did little to convince the council that he was worthy to lead.
His ailing father wouldn't last much longer, and he was the only heir.
The condition though, was that he needed to be married in order to ascend the throne, and the council was still hell bent on getting him to marry his cousin.
So when Satoru saw the chance to peacefully align his kingdom with a large island nation abundant in resources for the taking, he took it in order to prove that he wasn't just a meat head with a blade.
The residents of the island nation believed in vastly different customs, and at first it was difficult for Satoru to see eye to eye with them, and in some ways he still didn't, but they were weak, and ravaged by war and famine.
They couldn't hold out much longer.
So, Satoru offered them security, and relief in the form of food and protection in exchange for two things.
The ability to open an exclusive trade route to give them access to their minerals and land resources without question, and second, to bring fourth their finest woman, who was also of sharp mind to take home as his bride— so that he may escape the plans that the council had him near cemented into back at home.
Satoru let them pick a woman for him, as at the time, he didn't feel it was necessary to impose himself any more than he had already. To him, any woman of child bearing age would due, so long as she could hold a conversation, for he did not wish to be tied for life to a dull blade.
Though now, he was beginning to think that he'd been too generous. Not only did he not get the chance to test her wit, he had yet to clearly look upon her face at all…
Something that he agreed on— perhaps too hastily now that he thought of it. Though he had been too eager to get away from the claws of his cousin's poisonous cunt.
Besides the fact that she was of his own blood, there were stories after all that he did not wish to test the validity of not even for a moment…
In the end, he steeled himself, and allowed his bride's people to attend the ceremony, and accepted the proposal to blend wedding traditions. He was too concerned that the old fashioned elders would change their mind, or the council would think of a way to send his bride back home before she was properly tied to him. So he agreed to many changes and adjustments just to make sure she found her way before the altar.
Which was where she stood beside him now, in robes that did not quite clash with his formal suit the way his servants feared they would.
Though of a different style, the colors of her robes matched beautifully with the colors that he wore. She wore his clan colors, various shades of purples and blues adorned her form, embellished with glittering silver that decorated her silks. The main color of her robes was surprisingly black, he'd requested the base be white, but at this point, he was just happy she was here at all.
Though it was the veil upon her face that really gave him pause.
A tradition from her homeland he was told, that he was not to look upon her face until they were wed. The veil meant to her and her people, to protect her from evil spirits.
Satoru thought that was quite amusing. What of every other day that she walked about uncovered? Did the spirits they fear only go after women about to marry?
No matter how ridiculous he thought it, he did not argue. This woman, Iori was her clan name, was to be his wife after all, and she supposedly was the finest woman of their lands— at least one who also had wit as he requested. Though he had yet to hear her speak either.
She seemed decent enough, good posture, and stood as tall as he did.
That's all he could gauge from her though, as her sleeves were so long that they hid even her hands.
As per the tradition of his land, he held his hands out and she placed her delicate hands in them. He held on loosely while the officiant wrapped a rope with his family colors around both of their hands, symbolizing two lives forever joined— for a lifetime. The tying of the knot.
A sacred vow.
One that Satoru took very seriously. All vows and promises he took seriously. So much so, he'd grown a reputation around it. His enemies called him a brute and a butcher, but the women and children that he spared called him as honorable, and merciful.
He made sure his armies did not lay hands on the innocent, for to go against his word was an instant death sentence that Satoru made sure to carry out on the spot with no ceremony.
Many tried to lie their way out of punishment, but it was pointless. The sigil that he was born with had been one of might, but he'd always been able to see the truth when he locked eyes with another, and he used that to his advantage. A second gift of sorts that he trained just like any other.
So to not be able to look his bride in the eyes was quite an ironic thing. There would be no way to sense subterfuge until she was already bound to him.
Did she believe in the vows that she repeated? Or were they mere echoes to her?
It was too late to find that out now.
They were wed before the gods, and nothing shall undo it.
The bells echoed in the hall as the crowds gathered cheered, and Satoru watched on with quiet interest as the decorative rope loosely tied around their hands glittered in the light filtered through the stained glass windows.
Slowly, the two of them slipped their hands free of the rope, and pulled on an end each, tightening the elaborate tie into a unique knot that was solely theirs, one that represented their sacred union.
Satoru took the rope and carefully draped it across Iori's shoulders, she was to wear it as an adornment for the rest of the celebration, and traditionally, into their marriage bed...
Now, in front of all, he'd reveal to them Princess Iori, his wife, and soon, his new queen consort. He was a bit disquieted by that fact.
He was to be their King. Why should he share this moment so publicly after being forced to abstain from it?
Instead of turning her to the crowd to reveal her face, he kept her facing him as he slowly reached up to lift her veil.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he finally laid his eyes upon her face. He knew of how some women of her lands in the highest classes chose to paint their faces, but he was still surprised to see a face layered in enough paint to turn her face a porcelain white.
Her lips were ruby red, like rose petals, and her eyes were large and warm, like tea or honey. She was pretty the way ornaments were, not the way women should be…
As smoothly as a stream runs through the soil, he let her veil cover her face once more before putting on a smile to address the crowd.
After a few words that made them erupt in applause, he led his new wife to the banquet where they both sat now, suffering through countless nosey nobles that not so subtly asked why he did not show her face, or simply tried to weasel their way into his good graces with praise and gifts.
All of which he tired of quickly.
The food was bland, and not to his liking, and the cake was quite disappointing. Even the wine that he was expected to share with the elders, and the council was far too bitter for his tastes.
But he beared through it all because he promised himself that he would, though his patience quickly ran thin when he noticed his bride did not seem to have much an appetite either.
Her veil remained in place, her head low, and her hands folded within her sleeves on her lap. If she was not enjoying this, why should he continue to?
That's when he decided that they'd had enough.
Satoru stood, announcing his departure, and Iori stood to follow him like she was expected to. But he wasn't so convinced. He was beginning to suspect that he'd been made a fool of.
So he waved away the guards that led him out of the grand hall until it was just he and his bride's steps echoing against the marble. She walked slow, dreadfully so, and Satoru nearly lost patience as he led her to his, now their quarters.
But he wasn't about to comment on it when anyone would be listening out in these winding halls. He might be young, and ill-suited for diplomacy, but he was no fool.
Once Iori finally made it down the hall, and into their bed chambers, Satoru closed and locked the double doors with the silver bar propped against the wall. He turned around to face his bride, his eyes narrowed, and all manner of pretense gone.
“Do you and your people think me a fool?” He asked, frowning, his jaw set. “Why do you paint yourself this way? We agreed to omit such practices on this day.”
“I… I apologize. It is a deep tradition that—”
“It was part of the agreement, Iori. I take this as disrespect,” he cut in. “I save thousands of your people, and you treat me like this?? I caught what you tried to hide. Remove it all, I wish to look upon your true face,” he demanded.
Silently, she moved to the water basin against the wall, and removed her veil as she began to wash her face with trembling hands.
Satoru watched with baited breath as the white paint clinging to her skin gave way to an ivory that was ever so slightly sun-kissed.
She pulled the elaborate pins from her dark hair, her hands still shaking, allowing her hair to fall down just past her hips in a curtain of shining, thick silk.
Slowly, she turned to him, and his eyes widened when he saw her face.
“You're marred,” he said as he took in the shockingly large scar that slashed across her cheek, and the bridge of her nose.
Iori held her head high, and to his utter shock, shrank as she stepped forward, and out of her shoes— platform sandals taller than any small heel the women of the court wore.
He just stared, unsure if he should be furious or laugh at the outcome that he'd willfully signed up for.
“You asked for the finest woman of wit that my people had to offer, she stands before you now, your wife, wedded to you before your gods,” Iori said, her shoulders set back proud and tight.
She's right… but… “You're tiny,” was all he could say, still so shocked that they'd managed to pass this little woman off as a proper match. “How old are you?” He asked, his displeasure gradually beginning to grow. If they sent him a child he'd make sure to let them know how egregious this was…
Iori set her jaw. “I have already celebrated my twenty-third year.”
The tension in his body near completely dissipated. Good. “Oh… you are three years my senior then,” he murmured, still so relieved that he'd not been duped the way he feared. The sudden drastic changes of emotion too much for the amount of alcohol he drank. Not enough to completely find him useless, but the effects were setting in.
“Yes,” she said, tentatively.
That was acceptable. He nodded, and turned away to leave. He needed to bring this matter to her elders before they journeyed home. He did not want them to believe that they would not suffer consequences for this.
“W-Wait, are you still upset??” she asked, her voice shaking. “I'm sorry there was so much deception, my— the elders insisted that you would not accept me otherwise.”
He turned back to her with a frown. “Did you willingly, or unwillingly go along with it?”
Iori frowned. “W-Well… Your Grace… I— I don't wish to say that I unwillingly did so. How could I have fought them? I didn't want this, but at the same time… I did it anyway… I'm not sure if the distinction matters…”
“It does. Were they not here, would you have adorned yourself so heavily?” He asked as he looked her in the eyes. “Would you have worn these excessive shoes?”
“I… actually wished to meet you before the marriage agreement was solidified, when you first visited my father's palace… but I was kept away,” she quietly admitted. “I did not want our first meeting to be like this…”
“What of those other women? Your sisters I presume? I met them all when I visited. You were not in the line up that I was presented with,” he said, frowning.
She took a deep shaky breath. “I wish to be honest with you, but… I fear retaliation…”
“From me? You fear that I'll strike you?” He asked.
She bit her lip. “What I fear is not my own well being. I fear that… you will wish to undo the agreements that will help my people prosper.”
“Yet even telling me that is reason enough for me to do so,” he pointed out, eyes narrowed. “Why risk so much?”
“I've… heard the tales, Your Grace, no soul can lie to your face,” she whispered.
“Hm, and if you did not know this, would you choose to continue to try and trick me?” he asked as he looked her over.
“No. I don't wish to lie like a snake, it is dishonorable,” she said. “Even if I did not know of your skill, I would want to be truthful with my husband," she said as she lightly pressed her hand against their braided wedding knot over her shoulders.
Satoru stood there, frowning as he looked her over. Strangely, he did not get the obvious signs that always followed when he spoke to someone face to face in this way.
He knew her people were skilled in strange magicks, but he did not sense any cast on her now, and he'd made sure to have his people thoroughly search her and her kin for any suspicious objects or craft before showing them in the castle grounds.
He didn't think she was lying, but not having that sense that always told him when someone spoke the truth was alarming. Still, he wanted to trust her. She was his wife after all.
“Tell me this then: the food at the banquet, was it up to par?” He asked as he crossed his arms.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh… uh, to be honest I did not try much at all. I was too nervous that you wished to reject me to think to eat.”
He nodded, deciding to take her for her word. “Very well, tell me then, why were you kept away from the line up that I was initially presented with when I visited? To show me my potential brides, and then proceed to send a complete stranger is unthinkable treachery in this court. I could have you hung for this. You, and your elders.”
She looked down and clutched her hands together in her lap. “I understand. I was against it myself, but when you told my father that you did not care which bride was chosen, and that you only wanted our finest one with wit— he and the elders thought it wise to save my sisters, and send me in their stead…
They... always thought that I read too much... ”
“You can read?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Have you handled a blade?”
“Yes.”
“What of the rest of the skills your sisters boasted to have?”
“I was trained the same way, Your Grace… I can sing, and I play the instruments of my homeland with ease. I'm sure I can learn to play your piano just as well.”
“So, they took advantage of my lenient request, and they sent me their ugly duckling," He said with a wry smile, still in disbelief at how much effort they put into disguising the way Iori looked. “Let me guess, you were unweddable? Nobody wanted you, so they decided to dupe the young foreigner into accepting you as his bride?”
She grimaced, and tightened her hands into fists. “I-I… yes… I was ruined. Though of royal birth, I was meant to be shipped to the shrines until you showed up…”
“Shrines? A life spent worshiping your gods?”
“Yes… with a face like mine… there was no other option,” she quietly said.
“Is that what you would have preferred?”
She bit her lip. “I… never imagined another life.”
Satoru sighed quietly as he looked her over. It was quite a predicament. Perhaps he should have been more insistent on who he'd wed… Once the public saw her face there might be issues. Even so, she did not look deformed. Maybe a bit of powder and what not of the subtle kind would better disguise her blemish...
The more that he looked at her, the more he realized that she was decent enough to look at…
Perhaps not decent the way a proper queen ought to be, but decent enough nonetheless. Besides, there was no going back now.
She would be his queen whether the people wanted her to be or not.
Iori shifted, and nervously fussed with the wedding knot around her shoulders. "I know I'm not what you expected, but—"
“Hmm, you've got a cunt do you not?” He asked with a smirk.
She gasped loudly, and snapped her head up to look at him, scandalized. “Y-Your Grace!?”
“Well, do you?”
Her cheeks turned a pretty fire red. “Y-Yes, of course…”
“And you know your way around the court?” He asked as he absently rubbed his stomach— he was getting pretty hungry.
“I was trained to handle such things before my... accident," She explained with a frown. "In my homeland, women often take the throne, and I was once the next in line...
Though it's been a while, and there are many differences, I did read up quite well on the long trip here about how your system works…” she said, frowning. "I know women cannot enter court the same way, but I wanted to understand what I was getting into."
“Smart woman. You will do well here,” Satoru said before moving over to pull the lock bar off the door, and ring the bell for his servants. “Since you've not eaten, I'll have something more edible brought to us. I'm famished myself.”
Her eyes widened further. “Oh. You do not wish to uh… consummate our union now?”
He shrugged. “It is as you say, Iori. We are already wedded before the gods. Besides, I know it's not something that you truly want, and I do not bed the unwilling. I did not agree to marry you for an heir, nor did I truly wish to journey so far away to sit through hours and hours of political theater with your father.”
She just sat there, clearly confused. “Oh… well, why did you request a wife then?”
“I wanted to escape the incestuous union my clan attempted to lock me into as a child,” he admitted with a sigh. “My cousin. You will do well to watch out for her. I don't trust her, and now that you are my wife, I can figure out how to undo her webs, and fully expel her from the clan without causing too much drama— I hope.”
She nodded slowly, blushing still. “I… see…” she traced her finger over her scar before looking up at him with a small smile. “So, you won't tell my family you chose not to consummate?”
“What we speak of in this room is between us, Iori,” he said. “It will not leave these walls. You have my word.”
Her smile stayed in place. “Well then… I hope the food is as edible as you make it out to be. I was actually quite disappointed with the options presented at the banquet,” she admitted, surprising him.
He laughed, “Oh yeah? I wasn't aware I had such a picky wife.”
“Is refined taste really looked down upon here?”
“Refined?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I did say that.”
“Cheeky,” he said before turning to gather the food at the door, signaled by a simple knock.
Alright, maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. It was just the first day, but she at least seemed tolerable…
Unfortunately, within the week, Satoru began to wonder if he made a mistake.
Iori was indeed well read, and she began to constantly correct him whenever he made a mistake, and she quickly grew comfortable enough to nag him. And he did not like any of that. No one told him what to do.
Especially his wife…
But he kept his comments to himself when needed, only waiting until they were behind closed doors to tell her to back off. The first few times, that seemed to work, but then she'd get willful again, and the whole headache would start all over.