Longings of the Heart
An alternate pairing story

By: Stormlight
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimers:  I do not own FY.  Yuu Watase is the one who created this
fantastic story; I am merely borrowing her characters and promise to return
them to their proper owners (well…except maybe for Hotohori-sama.  I LIKE
him! <g>).  This fic takes place near the beginning of the story, right
after Miaka confesses her love to Tamahome only to be brutally rejected
<mutter grumble cold-hearted creep mutter>  Also, I’m going on the manga
version of this rather than the anime for two reasons.  For one, after
Hotohori confesses his love, she doesn’t stay in his chambers for the night
like in the anime, but rather flees back to her own chambers (probably
feeling plenty confused and, I’d like to think, a bit elated ^_~).  And two
(at least in the translated version), when she confesses her love to
Tamahome, what she says is "I’m FALLING in love with you" not "I AM in love
with you."  Meaning that she isn’t quite there yet, which is an important
fact in this fic.  =)



	It was dreary when Miaka opened her eyes, the dream she’d just woken from
dissipating into her mind like so much mist.  The light shining in the room
was dim, and she could hear the faint patter of rain falling outside.  She
sighed and rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly and looking around.  Her brow
furrowed when she realized that, yes, she was in a strange room inside a
strange palace in the middle of a strange story book…and one of the
characters of said strange storybook had just brutally shot her down after
she had admitted to certain growing feelings for him.  She swallowed hard,
laying back again and turning onto her side, fist pressed against her mouth
in consternation.  I can’t believe I told Tamahome that! she thought
gloomily.  What was I thinking?  ‘I’m falling in love with you’?  Now I
messed everything up!  And I bet Nuriko’ll laugh at me when she finds out…

	That thought was enough to get her blood boiling, anger dissipating her
embarrassment, and she scowled fiercely.  If that woman does tease me about
it, I don’t care how strong she is or even if she’s one of my Seishi!  POW!
She’s gonna get it right in the kisser! she vowed, clenching a fist beneath
the covers.

        Never mind that that action was liable to get her killed,
afterwards…

	Lost in her thoughts, Miaka was startled as she became abruptly aware of a
presence at her side.  With a stifled gasp she jerked around to see the tall
form of Hotohori standing over her, gazing down at her with a kind of
melancholy in his golden eyes.  He blinked in surprise at her sudden
movement—he’d obviously assumed she was asleep—before smiling gently at her.
  "Good afternoon," he told her quietly, his voice a low, soothing murmur.
"How are you feeling, Miaka?"

	"I’m feeling okay.  Just a little tired."  She dropped her gaze from his,
fingers plucking nervously at her quilt, feeling unaccountably shy.  She
hadn’t seen the emperor since she’d left his chambers—two nights ago?  How
long had she been out, anyway?—after he had confessed his love for her, and
she hardly knew how to face him now, of what she should say.  She couldn’t
simply pretend in hadn’t happened, but…

She blinked as a thought occurred to her suddenly.  Here she was, feeling
sorry for herself at having her heart get trampled on by Tamahome, when she
herself was doing practically the very same thing to Hotohori.  Okay, well,
maybe not quite so rudely, she defended herself, but she hadn’t been very
considerate of his feelings so far, what with the way she’d run out on him,
and had sort of been avoiding him since.  She hadn’t even let herself think
about what he’d told her, or how his words made her feel.  She’d let herself
become consumed with Tamahome, instead.  So maybe Tamahome’s actions serve
me right, she thought guiltily.  As mean as he was, I realize that I’m not
acting much better.  How can Hotohori stand to look at me after the way I’ve
treated him?

	"Miaka?"  Hotohori was still waiting for her to reply, concern growing when
she continued to remain silent, staring intently at the covers before her.
Uneasiness grew in his heart, wondering if perhaps his intense declaration
that night had frightened her.  Had he pressured her too much?  Was that
part of the reason she’d collapsed?  Becoming Suzaku no Miko was no easy
task, after all, and she was still such a child in manner at times.  Perhaps
pleading with her to become his empress on top of everything else had been
simply too much for her to handle.  Guilt welled up, and he opened his mouth
to speak, to apologize for anything he said or did that might have upset
her…

	But Miaka beat him to it.  She finally looked up at him, and he was
startled to see the sheen of tears in her eyes as her earnest gaze met his
own.  "Hotohori, I’m sorry," she began quietly, sincerely.  "The other
night…if I hurt your feelings at all, I’m so sorry.  I just…you took me by
surprise, and I never had…I mean…nobody’s ever asked me…that is…"  She broke
off and swallowed, offering him a hesitant smile.  "I didn’t mean to hurt
you and if I did, I really am sorry.  Your friendship means so much to me,
Hotohori.  Without you and Ta-Tamahome…"  She faltered slightly, a grievous
expression passing through her eyes, making him wonder.  But before he could
ask questions she continued, "…and even Nuriko.  Without you I’d be lost in
this world.  You’ve been so kind to me, and…"

	That was as much as he could take.  Between one heartbeat and the next,
Miaka found herself engulfed in warm robes and even warmer arms as Hotohori
swept her into his embrace.  Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as the
sweet, exotic scent of his hair surrounded her, as it had once before.  She
stiffened slightly, not certain how to respond to his embrace, but she
didn’t need to.  "You didn’t hurt me, Miaka.  I have been more afraid that I
have offended you in some manner."  His deep, soothing voice surrounded her,
making her relax in his arms, and she smiled faintly.

	"Offend me?"  She giggled softly.  "Well…you surprised me, that’s for sure,
but I’m not offended!  I was just worried that me running out like that
offended you.  I didn’t even…"

	"Shhhh…"  Hotohori placed a long finger against her lips to shush her.  "No
offense was taken.  So, I will forgive you, if you will forgive me," he
replied, smiling warmly.  "For now, that is all we need say on the subject.
Above all else, what is most important now is that you regain your strength
and your health.  I do not wish a repeat of your collapse."  His arms
tightened briefly as he recalled the image of a frightened, guilty-looking
Tamahome carrying the unconscious priestess into the palace.  Tamahome’s
face had mirrored Hotohori’s own fright at seeing the pale girl laying there
so silently.  Her expression had looked almost…grief-stricken, and something
told Hotohori that much more had gone on in the city than Tamahome’s
explanation had allotted to.  Luckily, Miaka’s fever was brief and had
vanished in a day thanks to the excellent care of the palace healers.
Still, Hotohori was willing to take no chance with Miaka’s future health.

After a long, reluctant moment, he released her enough to rest his hands
gently on her shoulders, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek.
"Perhaps if you’re feeling better, you might seek out Tamahome and Nuriko.
They’re both rather worried about you," he suggested.

	Miaka’s heart abruptly sank at the mention of Tamahome’s name, and the
reminder of what she had revealed to him just before she’d fainted.  "A-all
right," she replied faintly, forcing a smile in hopes that he wouldn’t
notice her sudden melancholy.  Of course he was more observant than that.

	"Miaka?"  Strong fingers lifted her chin until she was forced to gaze into
gentle, golden eyes.  "Has something else happened to upset you?  Are you
certain that you are all right?" he questioned in concern.  She smiled
again, and this time it was only half-forced as she relaxed once more under
the warmth of his gaze.

	"It’s nothing.  You don’t need to worry about me.  I’m tougher than I
look," she replied, trying to sound brave and confident, something she was
far from feeling at the moment.

	A warm chuckle, and his fingers caressed her face softly.  "That is
something I know all too well by now," he replied humorously.  Then, on a
slightly more wistful note, "It is part of the reason why I love you so…"
She blushed again and dropped her gaze, smiling in embarrassed pleasure.
Uncomfortable or not, it nevertheless gave her a warm sort of thrill to hear
such words spoken of her, to let her know that she wasn’t completely
undesirable.  "You know that you can always come to me if you feel the need
to talk to someone," the emperor continued seriously.  "I will never be too
busy to speak with you, so do not hesitate to seek me out."

	"Thank you, Hotohori," she replied shyly, "for caring about me so much.  I
feel better knowing I have friends here."

	His hands covered her own and his eyes caught hers, emotions that she
hardly dared name glowing in their depths.  "More than friends," he
murmured.  "Always…"  With a gentle pressure of his fingers, he released her
fully and rose gracefully to his feet, casting a final, wistful smile in her
direction before turning to leave the room.

~~~{~@  ~~~{~@  ~~~{~@

Miaka sat where she was for a full ten minutes after Hotohori’s departure,
her mind reeling as she attempted to sort through everything that had
happened in the past forty-eight hours.  Tamahome’s reaction to her
declaration faded for the moment to the back of her memory as her mind’s eye
was filled with visions of the events of two nights ago.

It had started out so simply, really.  She’d gone to his chambers in the
first place on behalf of Nuriko, upon discovering that the Seishi’s
bitterness toward Miaka was due in large part to her jealousy of Hotohori’s
attention to her.  Perhaps, if she could convince the emperor to pay more
attention to Nuriko, she would finally succeed in befriending the older
woman.  Never had she dreamed that Hotohori had his own proclamations to
make in regards to her!

Her skin flushed and her heart began to pound furiously as she again
recalled his soft, impassioned words, the feel of strong hands gently yet
firmly pushing her back into the bed.  She could still remember the
delicious heat of him as he leaned over her.  She still felt his breath
caressing her lips as his dark hair fell like a curtain all around them,
trailing over his shoulders and pooling across her chest, cool and silken
against heated flesh where her robe had fallen slightly open.  Their rapid
heartbeats had seemed to thunder in the silence of the room, beating in
unison with each other.  The look in those astonishing eyes could only have
been described as hungry, and she realized belatedly that, if not for
Tamahome and Nuriko’s untimely arrival, Hotohori would indeed have kissed
her…perhaps more than kissed her.

It disturbed her somewhat to realize that, even as her mind whispered
Tamahome’s name, her lips had ached for Hotohori’s kiss, and she had longed
to feel his hands on her body, to hear him murmur her name in passion and
reverence.  She shivered and curled her arms around herself, tucking her
knees up to her chest.  How could she feel like that when it was Tamahome
she loved?  Her own body had betrayed her, stirring up feelings that she had
never dreamed existed outside of movies or books.  And now she understood
the power such emotions held, and they frightened and thrilled her all at
the same time.

But they were for the wrong man! she wailed silently, burying her face in
her arms.  It’s Tamahome I love!  It’s his embrace I should be longing for,
not Hotohori’s!

Even though it obviously was not her embrace that Tamahome wanted…

And that remembrance was a sharp slap in the face, bringing to the fore more
recent and much more unpleasant memories.  Her impassioned plea, his stiff
posture, his cold response as the rain beat down on them mercilessly, and
the grayness behind her eyes as she finally gave into the darkness that had
been hovering over her since her arrival in Konan.  The stress of it all had
been building up for days, she knew, ever since she’d agreed to become
Suzaku no Miko, and Tamahome’s rejection had simply been the straw that
broke the camel’s back.

Unable to stand being alone with her thoughts anymore, Miaka abruptly
scrambled out of bed and hurriedly bathed and stuffed herself into her
clothes, running an ivory comb through her hair in an attempt to straighten
the tangled mess, giving it up after a few quick strokes.  In this kind of
chill humidity, her hair was always impossible to deal with.  She secured it
in a loose braid with one of her ribbons, slipped on her shoes, and headed
out the door in search of something to eat, suddenly realizing how hungry
she was.  Halfway down the corridor, she spotted Nuriko coming out of her
quarters, and bit back a yelp as she hurriedly changed directions.  Former
threat or no, she did not want to face the Seishi now.  Nuriko was far from
happy with the way things had turned out between her and Hotohori, and Miaka
was in no mood to deal with another fit of angst from Her Royal Prissiness.

~~~{~@  ~~~{~@  ~~~{~@

The kitchen was warm and smelled like heaven, as always.  Miaka stood in the
doorway and sniffed hungrily, making no attempt to stop the drool from
forming at the corners of her mouth.  A passing cook noticed her, started
slightly at the glazed expression in the girl’s eyes, and tentatively
offered her a snack as a sweat drop appeared on his head.  Of course, the
poor man had not yet learned that a "snack" for Miaka ranged somewhere along
the lines of a ten-course meal.  But he discovered it quickly enough as the
seemingly harmless-looking girl scarfed down bowl after bowl of rice and
broth.

Afterwards, her hunger quite sated, Miaka took herself off in search of
something to do.  The rain had abated, finally, although a damp fog hung in
the air and covered everything in dreary white.  She decided to walk to the
gazebo beside the pond, since it was quiet and she could think some more on
her dilemma.  As she neared the small building she could see a figure
standing silently, gazing out over the misty water.  Hotohori? she thought,
cocking her head, unsure whether or not she wanted to see him again so soon.
  She loved Tamahome, but her heart felt so torn when she was near the
emperor.  He was so hard to resist…

Maybe that’s what it is, she thought, absently wandering closer to the
gazebo.  Pure physical attraction.  I mean, Hotohori is absolutely one of
the most gorgeous men I’ve ever laid eyes on!  He’s got girls swooning at
his feet left and right!  And he’s just so gentle and compassionate and…
She abruptly shook herself out of her thoughts, frowning slightly.  No.  I
am not going to think about him like that, she told herself firmly.  Not
until I know…until I can sort out my feelings a little more.

She was close enough now that she could make out the features of the one who
stood in the gazebo, and she released a soft gasp as she realized that it
was not Hotohori, but rather Tamahome who stood there.  She froze, her
remembered humiliation rushing back to her all over again.  Was she ready to
face him now and risk his mockery?  As kind as he was, sometimes he reminded
her more of her older brother the way he teased her!  He could be typically
insensitive.  Still…Hotohori had told her he’d been worried.  She hesitated,
then slowly shook her head.  No, she just wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.
She still needed time to gather her thoughts.  I should have talked to
Nuriko first, she thought wryly.  At least if she killed me I wouldn’t have
to worry about any of this anymore!  Maybe she could have even given me some
advice on what to do about Tamahome, even if she wouldn’t let me live long
enough to use it!  The thought made her smile despite herself.

He hadn’t noticed her yet; she should leave while she had the chance.  But
as she turned, her foot kicked a small rock, sending it skittering across
the ground with little clatters that seemed loud enough to be called
gunshots in the silence of the pond.  She froze for another moment like a
startled deer, her heart jumping into her throat, then took off running as
fast as she could back to the palace.  He called to her, commanding her to
wait, but it only served in quickening her steps.

"Miaka!  Will you wait?!  Stop running already!"  His voice was right behind
her, and she realized with dismay that, as fast as she was, he was
infinitely faster.  When a hand closed on her shoulder, she yelped and
stumbled to a halt, breathing heavily.  Her lungs were burning, and she
realized vaguely that running a marathon in her not-entirely-well condition
was perhaps not the smartest thing she could have done.  Oh well, she
thought bitterly.  Just add it to my ever-growing list!

Tamahome seemed a little out of breath himself as he stood behind her, his
hand still gripping her shoulder in the off chance that she might attempt to
run again.  "What’s the matter with you?" he asked gruffly.  "You’re acting
like I’m some kind of enemy or something!"

"Can you blame me?" she shot back through clenched teeth, knocking his hand
away and turning to face him, letting her humiliation and fury shine clearly
in her eyes.  She noted with satisfaction the way he winced when she fixed
her gaze on him, and he sighed heavily.

"Come on," he told her gently, taking her hand.  "Let’s take a walk, okay?"

No!  Not okay! her mind screamed.  He’s using that tone again!  That
patronizing, know-it-all tone!  All you’ll be getting is a stupid lecture!
But at the same time, she wanted to speak to him, needing to be near him, if
not held in his arms.  He drew her as no other man save Hotohori had ever
done before.  What is wrong with me?! she wailed silently as she let herself
be led along.  How can I feel this way?  For both of them?!  This isn’t like
me!  I’m not a tease or a flirt!  And I cannot feel this way for two men!
It isn’t right!

Tamahome was silent as he led her back to the gazebo, making her sit on the
railing as he sat beside her, turning to face her.  He regarded her silently
for a long period of time, before he sighed and dropped his gaze.  "I’m
sorry," he told her.

Startled, she looked up at him; she had not been expecting an apology.
"F-for what?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

He glanced over at her, his familiar, endearing grin tugging at his lips as
he ran a nervous hand across the back of his neck.  "Well…for being such a
jerk, for one thing," he replied.  "And…"  He paused, and Miaka felt her
heart sink in her chest.  "And for leading you to believe that…that I don’t
love you."

Miaka was so distraught that she didn’t even stop to ponder his choice of
words.  If she had, she might suddenly have not been so upset.  As it was,
she valiantly tried to hold back tears at what she thought was another
rejection, but one or two managed to escape anyway.  "Don’t worry about it,"
she mumbled as she swiped at them irritably.  "It isn’t your fault I’m
stupid enough to believe that someone like you could ever go for a kid like
me."

"No!  That isn’t what I said!"  Tamahome gripped her hands, his blue-gray
eyes fixing on her intently.  "Don’t talk that way about yourself," he added
vehemently.  "You’re not stupid!  You’re one of the most incredible girls
I’ve ever met, and I’m proud that I can serve you as your Seishi!  I admire
your strength and courage and your compassion to help this land even though
you don’t have any reason to care!  How could anyone not love you for that?"

"But you don’t."  Her voice was flat, and her soft bangs shaded her eyes as
she hung her head.

He sighed.  "I can’t tell you how sorry I am for acting like such a jackass
before.  You just…took me by surprise.  And I’m flattered, really I am.  But
Miaka…"  He tilted her chin until she met his serious gaze.  "Are you
absolutely certain that it’s me you’re in love with?"

"Of course I am!" she exploded, slapping his hand away.  "Do you think I
just go around telling every cute guy I meet that I’m in love with him?!
What kind of tramp do you take me for?!"

He sighed and dropped his head to massage his temples.  "That isn’t exactly
the way I meant it," he muttered.  "It’s just that…"  He raised his head
again.  "Miaka, I saw you with the emperor that night.  I heard his proposal
to you."

"That’s not…I only went there to talk to him about Nuriko!  How was I
supposed to know he…" she stammered indignantly, but he cut her off with a
shake of his head, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"No, listen.  You need to think about this.  I’ve seen how you act around
each other, and I see how you look at each other, the way lovers would.  Why
do you think Nuriko feels so threatened by you?  It’s because she can sense
that Hotohori’s feelings aren’t one-sided.  She knows."

"Th-that’s ridiculous," Miaka whispered, her face pale.

"Is it?"  Tamahome gazed at her, a strange, pensive expression in his eyes.
"Listen to what I’m trying to say," he commanded softly.  "The truth is…if
it wasn’t for the way your eyes always light up whenever Hotohori walks into
a room, or the way you blush when he talks to you, or the way you watch him
when you don’t think anybody notices…if it wasn’t for that, I’d gladly
accept and return the love you say you have for me."

"Tamahome…" she breathed, her eyes widening, but he wasn’t finished yet.

"No, Miaka, listen," he urged softly, allowing his hand to stroke softly
over her hair.  "The reason why I’m rejecting you isn’t so much that I don’t
love you, as it is that I don’t believe you really love me."

"But, that’s not…" she started to protest, but again he silenced her.

"Miaka, if you can look into my eyes right now and tell me truthfully that
you feel absolutely nothing for the emperor, not even a single ounce of
longing for him, then I will take you into my arms right now and pledge my
love to you."

Miaka’s heart stopped beating for a full minute as she stared into his eyes,
seeing the sad caring that shone within their depths.  This was what she had
been waiting for!  For him to give her his love, all she had to do was… She
took a deep breath, prepared to do just that.  "Tamahome, I do not…"

A pair of melancholy, golden eyes suddenly filled her vision, bringing her
speech to an abrupt halt.  Blinking, frowning slightly, she tried again.  "I
do not love…"

Warm arms surrounded her.  A deep, soothing voice washed over her, murmuring
her name…

"I…"

Silver hair a silken mantle against heated flesh; sweet breath warmed aching
lips…

Stricken, hazel eyes rose to meet blue-gray, the answer clear in their
depths.

"I…can’t…"

A light faded from Tamahome’s eyes at the whispered confession even as a
certain knowledge took its place.  A small smile touched his lips as he
regarded her, watching her eyes begin to shimmer with tears.  "It’s all
right," he whispered, reaching out to hold her, allowing her to sob gently
against his chest.  "It’s all right.  I understand.  Don’t cry."

"I-I’m sorry," she sobbed, her voice muffled.  "I wish…I wanted to say it,
but I can’t!  I just can’t…"

"I know.  I don’t expect you to be anything other than true to your heart,"
he replied.  "I’ll still be your friend, and I’ll still protect you with my
life.  And I’ll still love you, if that’s okay with you."

She pulled away, her eyes still sparkling with tears.  "It’s fine with me,"
she replied softly, forcing a quivering smile to her lips.  "Thank you,
Tamahome.  For everything.  Please believe me when I say that I do love you.
  I-I’m sorry I wasn’t able to prove it…"

"I know."  His smile was sad as he regarded her.  "You love me, but you love
him more.  I always knew that.  Now you just have to make sure he knows it,
too.  Go look for him, okay?  He seems so sad lately, but I bet you’ll know
just how to cheer him up."  He smiled and winked at her as she stood to
leave.  "Don’t worry about Nuriko," he added slyly.  "I’ll distract her
while you’re speaking with him."

She gazed down at him for a long moment, seemingly undecided as to whether
or not to say more, then flashed him another quick smile as she turned and
raced full-speed back to the palace in search of her future.

~~~{~@  ~~~{~@  ~~~{~@

	He sat poised gracefully on the railing outside his chambers, staring out
at the sunset and allowing his mind to clear from the stress of the day.
The problems with Kutou weighed heavily on his mind, but what weighed even
more heavily was one certain young lady from another world.  One who had
quite captured his heart and refused to give him hers in return.  He had
never known love could hurt so much, yet at the same time he would never
even dream of giving up the exquisite feelings he held in regards to her.
He had loved her for far too long to let go of her so easily, even though
all the signs hinted that she had already found solace in another’s arms.
In Tamahome’s arms.

He should have known, of course.  From the very beginning he’d seen the
regard with which she seemed to hold her savior, the obvious infatuation.
Part of him was forever grateful to Tamahome for having saved her life those
few times before they’d come to the palace.  But another part—the small,
selfish part of himself that he kept under tight control—was furiously
jealous that he had not been there to save her first.  If he had, would it
have been him to whom she’d given her love?  In whose arms would she seek
her comfort then?  If he had been completely alone, the distressed emperor
might have given into the grief in his heart then and there, but the shadowy
forms of his guards standing only a few feet away kept hot tears at bay.

	A figure appearing from the lengthening shadows below him brought him out
of his dark musings, and he looked down to find Miaka running across the
courtyard, her hair loose and streaming behind her as she clutched a red
ribbon in her fist, which had apparently fallen out in her mad dash to get
to wherever she was going.  "Miaka!"  Instinctively he called out to her,
and she looked up in surprise, then smiled and waved at him.  It was at that
moment that she tripped and landed sprawled out on the stone floor.  His
eyes widened in alarm as he immediately left his place to rush to her side.

	"Miaka, are you hurt?" he asked in concern as he carefully helped her up.
She giggled, embarrassed, and scratched her head as a blush stained her
cheeks.

	"Only my pride," she replied sheepishly.  "Clumsy me!"  Still, he checked
her over to be safe, exclaiming when he saw that her knee was bleeding, and
immediately ordered hot water, medicine, and bandages to be brought to his
chambers.  Despite her protests that she was able to walk, he picked her up
and carried her up the steps, glad for any excuse, no matter how trivial, to
hold her in his arms.

	"Sit here while I tend you," he ordered gently as he lowered her into a
chair and dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, carefully cleaning the cut.

	"It’s really no big deal," she told him, embarrassed at all the attention,
yet feeling quite pleased about it at the same time.  That the emperor
himself should tend her small hurt, when a servant could just as easily have
taken care of it, told her more than any words how much he truly cared for
her, and her heart swelled with love.  Tamahome was right all along.  I do
love Hotohori.  How could I not?  He’s everything I ever dreamed of in a
man, and I don’t care if he is just a character from a storybook.  I love
him, I love him, I love him.

	Aware that her eyes were resting on him, he looked up from her leg to meet
her gaze with a gentle smile.  "Where were you going in such a hurry?" he
asked, his voice teasing.

	She squirmed a little.  "Well…I was looking for you, actually," she
admitted.

	He was surprised, and pleased.  "Really?  And what did you need me for?" he
asked.

	She dropped her gaze shyly.  "Well…I…I was just coming from the pond, after
talking awhile with Tamahome," she began softly.  He stiffened, forcing his
breathing to remain slow and even, even though his heart suddenly seemed to
want to pound its way right out of his chest.  It appeared as though his
worst fear was coming to pass, and his grip on her leg unconsciously
tightened.  "Ouch!" she squeaked, and he blinked in surprise before he
realized he had a death-grip on her leg.  He relaxed his hold guiltily and
continued to wrap it.

	"And…what did you talk about?" he asked, his voice slightly strangled.  He
didn’t really want to know, but she seemed to be expecting him to ask, and
how could he not comply with her wishes?

	"We talked about…love," she replied, her voice so soft he barely made out
the words.  But he heard enough, and in another moment he was on his feet
and gathering the medicinal supplies back onto the tray.  How could she
torture him like this?  Was she really so cruel, even knowing how he felt,
that she’d tell him of her love for another man?!

	"I…"  He stopped, not knowing what else to say, and turned away from her,
his fists clenching at his sides beneath the sleeves of his robe.  "I am
certain…that it was an interesting discussion," he managed tightly.  "If
you’ll please excuse me…there are matters of the state that I must attend…"

	"Hotohori!"  Her soft, pleading voice stopped him in his tracks, and he
reluctantly turned back to look at her, drawn by the sudden desperation in
her tone.

~~~{~@  ~~~{~@  ~~~{~@

	Miaka was startled as the emperor abruptly stood and turned away from her,
and she realized belatedly that she had said something to upset him.  Her
eyes widened as he spoke, her mind just barely registering the words.  He
was leaving?!  After all that, and she couldn’t even confess her love right!
  Why, oh why couldn’t she be more like Yui?  Yui always knew what to say!
She wouldn’t stammer around like a half-drunken ninny!  Hotohori began to
walk away, still tense, and in desperation she blurted out his name.

	"Hotohori!"

	He paused; slowly turned to face her, and there was a kind of sad
resignation in his eyes, as though he’d simply given up hope.  It frightened
her—Hotohori was not one to give up on anything—and she felt tears start to
her eyes.  "I’m messing it all up, aren’t I?" she asked him mournfully.
"I’m trying to tell you my feelings and I’m messing everything up again!  I
can’t do anything right!"

	The expression in his eyes softened.  "Miaka, I understand what you mean to
say.  Please don’t be upset," he replied gently.

	"No, no that’s just it, you don’t understand!" Miaka continued desperately,
absentmindedly tugging on the fingers of her left hand.  "I talked to
Tamahome, and he told me that it’s okay to love you.  I thought I loved him,
but…but I didn’t love him enough, or it wasn’t the right kind of love
or…well, I don’t know what happened, but I realize now that I was wrong
about who I love.  It wasn’t really him at all!  At least, not like that.
It was always you."

	Hotohori’s eyes widened as his breath quickened in his throat, and he
abruptly turned away from her again, certain he had to be hearing things.
Miaka…was telling him that he was the one she loved?  No…no it was only his
own deluded mind, creating a fantasy for him to retreat to so that the truth
of what she was really saying wouldn’t kill him.  "Miaka, please stop," he
murmured, his mind in a daze.  "Please…don’t say anymore.  I cannot bear
it."

	Miaka stopped speaking abruptly, staring at his back with wide, tear-filled
eyes.  He was…he was telling her to stop?!  She was pouring her heart out to
him…and he didn’t want to hear it?  He’s…changed his mind, she thought in
horrified disbelief.  Now that I know how I feel, he’s decided that he
really doesn’t want me after all!  I…I made him wait too long, and now…  She
choked back a sob.  "A-all right," she whimpered, her voice trembling.  "I
understand.  You’ve… decided I’m not good enough for you, and I can
understand that.  I mean, I don’t even know why you’d want me for an empress
anyway!  I’m just a silly little school kid!  I’m not that smart, and I’m
not graceful and I’m not even that pretty.  My manners are horrible—at least
that’s what my mother tells me—and I don’t know anything about ruling a
country or talking properly to royalty…I mean, look how I always talk to
you!  I know it isn’t proper to call you by your name, but you never seemed
to mind so…"

She stopped, quite aware that she was rambling on—yet another fault to add
to her ever-growing list—and stood with hands clutched in front of her and
head bowed.  "I wanted to make it special when I told you all of this but…I
can’t even get that right.  And now you don’t want to hear it, anyway," she
whispered as a tear streaked her face.  "I-I’ll just go now.  I’m…sorry for
bothering you, Your Majesty."  With another choked sob, she turned to flee
the room, feeling her whole world crumbling beneath her feet.  All she
wanted to do now was curl up somewhere and die.

~~~{~@  ~~~{~@  ~~~{~@

	Hotohori felt his heart begin to pound mercilessly against his ribcage as
Miaka’s tearful words slowly penetrated the thick fog that had covered his
mind.  His eyes widened as he listened to her berate herself, and belatedly
he realized that he’d made a terrible mistake in silencing her.  She
thought…he didn’t love her?  She thought he was rejecting her!  No!  No, she
doesn’t understand! he thought desperately, turning abruptly to face her
again, just in time to hear her apology and to see her start to run for the
door.

	"Miaka…"  Her name left his lips on a breath, and in three quick steps he
was at her side and sweeping her into his arms, holding her like he would
never let go again.  And maybe he wouldn’t.  And maybe she didn’t want him
to.  His arms trembled as they surrounded her, engulfed her, and his lips
brushed her hair, her neck, her face as he murmured her name over and over.
She stood there trembling against him, obviously confused, but unresisting.
"Please, Miaka, forgive me.  Forgive me," he whispered.  "I misunderstood.
I didn’t let myself believe…"  He paused and held her tighter.  "I love you,
Miaka!  Always…always.  Please don’t leave me.  I cannot bear to be without
you!"

At his pleading words, her arms finally came up to slip around his waist,
holding on tight as silent tears slid down her face.  She buried her face in
his chest, relishing in this new closeness, the incredible joy she felt at
just being in his arms.  Yes!  Yes! her mind whispered.  This was right!
This was what she had been longing for!  He was the one she had wanted all
along, and her heart and soul were finally at peace as she accepted his love
and returned it to him tenfold.  He raised his head to gaze at her adoringly
through the wisps of hair that fell across his eyes from beneath his crown.
Impulsively she reached up to snatch the jeweled hat, giggling in delight as
dark, glowing silver fell in a silken shower down his back and across her
arms in a wash of sweet fragrance.  He smiled at her antics as she buried
her face in the cool softness and inhaled, and his arms tightened even more
as a fierce possessiveness came upon him.  Raising her chin, he lowered his
head to slowly, carefully cover her lips with his own.

	His kiss was like heaven, tender and undemanding and soft as warm lips
moved gently against hers, caressing and seeking, yet not taking any more
than what she wished to give.  And oh, how she wished to give!  She shivered
in his embrace as fire coursed through her blood and her legs weakened
beneath her, feeling his arms tighten around her in response.  She had never
experienced a kiss such as this, and she longed for it never to end.

	After a long, silent time, Hotohori gradually came back to himself, slowly
raising his head to gaze through shining eyes upon the dazed face of his
beloved.  She rested languidly in his arms, eyes closed and swollen lips
parted, and his heart swelled at the sight.  "Miaka," he whispered, watching
as her eyes fluttered open.  "Thank you."

	She blinked up at him, perfectly content to let him support her as she
leaned weakly against him.  "For what?" she whispered back, closing her eyes
again and nuzzling her face into the locks of hair that fell over his
shoulders.

	"For the gift of yourself," he replied, stroking her soft hair.  "For
always seeing me as a man, and not just the ruler of a country.  For loving
me."

	She smiled against his chest.  "You made it hard for me not to love you,"
she admitted.

	"You will become my wife.  My empress," he whispered certainly, nuzzling
his face into her hair again.  "I’ll teach you what you need to know, but
all I truly need is for you to let me love you, and for you to love me in
return."

	"I already do," she replied as she met his gaze.  "I love you, Hotohori,
and when this is over, I’ll become your empress.  I promise."

	It was the most natural thing in the world to seal that promise with
another kiss, and in doing so they knew that no matter what the future held,
whether they succeeded in summoning Suzaku or whether war should break out,
they would survive so long as they had each other.

~~A Beginning~~

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