Work Text:
It is to Shoukei that Youko turns whenever it comes to matters of fashion. Despite her reformation, the former princess of Hou is still a bit of a peacock.
Youko has become known for her austere style, rarely deeming it necessary to wear the formal robes of her office. The maids are fluttering around as they arrange the brilliant crimson and gold robes around her, but it is Shoukei who will have the honor of doing her hair. Youko lets her eyes meet Suzu's in the mirror, crossing them slightly to display her annoyance.
Suzu giggles, holding a hand politely in front of her mouth, but Shoukei levels a threatening look at both of them. “Just be patient, Sekishi,” she tells the queen. “You'll be pleased with the results.”
Youko doubts that, since she's never been one for frippery. The robes are so heavy it's hard to move, and the hair ornaments rub against her scalp unpleasantly. But she can't get out of this – the celebration of her fiftieth year on the throne.
Time passes in Kei differently than her birth world of Hourai. It seems to rush, then stutter and slow down, before racing forward again. The polish silver mirror in front of her shows a confident young woman. She rarely has time to examine herself anymore, and she finds herself fascinated in this rare moment. She can see no marks of its passage on her face, no sign that she's a woman approaching her seventieth year. The mirror shows the same reflection as when she had first ascended, although she likes to think her eyes hold wisdom.
Sometimes she's not sure if the immortality granted is such a good thing. In her palace, she is surrounded by unchanging advisors, all frozen at the moment they became Sen-nin. Time is a hard thing to keep track of, since each day rolls into the next with little to differentiate from the prior.
Every now and then, though, she thinks on what her life would have been like if Keiki had never come for her. If she had lived in Hourai, she would be an old woman by now, likely married with plenty of children and grandchildren. Sometimes she aches for that simpler life, but it is not her nature to daydream. Becoming the Glory King has been an honor, and she realizes she wouldn't change her fate for anything. She loves Kei, and its citizens are her children.
But she sometimes wonders, anyway.
Her parents are long dead. She supposes she could ask Enki to check up on what had happened to them in his next trip to Hourai, but she thinks it is better not to know for sure what happened to them. She has enough guilt toward them; if their lives had gone in a horrible direction, she was partly to blame. And the last thing she needed to do was accept another burden – trying to rule Kei well is enough of a task.
Youko knows the trials of a ruler are cyclical – she and Keiki have survived several earlier challenges, but she knows another one is due. She has discussed the matter with Shouryuu and Enki several times, and has read enough history to understand how things work. Toward the end of what would have been a ruler's natural lifespan, a threat to their governance will arise. She hopes it's one that won't end in too much death and destruction, but must be prepared for all possibilities.
She's not aware she's biting her lip until Shoukei chides her for it. “I know you refuse to wear make-up, but please don't do damage to your face!”
“Heavy thoughts, your majesty?” Suzu says, tilting her head. She is perched in a seat about two arms widths away, idly toying with the tip of her long ponytail. Shoukei plans on doing her hair next, no matter how much Suzu would protest.
“I was just thinking about what Japan was like now,” Youko replies, hiding part of the truth. Grief is a private thing, and didn't need to be shared when doing so would benefit no one. “I doubt I would recognize the place.”
“It's very likely,” Suzu agreed. She swung a foot idly. “I certainly don't recognize the Wa you speak of.”
Youko has tried to explain the technology of her world several times in the past, but it's only Enki and Taiki who are able to understand what she's referring to. Sometimes she misses television and the Internet, Ipods and telephones, but she's learned to let that stuff go. Occasionally she wonders if her memories haven't been distorted by the passage of time.
Shoukei arranges the final hair ornament, before sitting back and nodding approvingly. “You look lovely, Kei-ou,” she says, folding her hands modestly inside her own fine silk robe.
“I'll take your word on it,” Youko replies. She rises to her feet, refraining from commenting on how she hated the whole outfit.
Her moment of quiet reflection is at its end – soon Keiki will be arriving to escort her to the ceremony, and she has to be properly focused on her duties. While speculating about the past is irresistible, in the end, she must set her eyes on the future.