Seirya: Legacy II, The Unwanted Bride

Sakura’s plans go horribly wrong when, instead of eliminating the prince, she gets captured and, somehow, worked into being his bride. The plan now? Make his life as miserable as possible.

-x- Welcome to your Life-x-

“Already, agreed.” Sakura nodded. Syaoran smirked.

“I am willing to release you,” Syaoran began, “on the condition that you… marry me.”

Sakura’s eyes widened.

-x-

Fatigue rocked Sakura’s body as she lay, shamefully, in the Li dungeon. Her body had been crusted over by blood, her hair askew and dry, her nails chipped and her skin peeling. Her stomach rumbled in hunger and her features had become a deadly gaunt.

She hadn’t been getting much—if not any sleep—through the past week that she had been locked up for. She Sakura had, unwillingly, agreed to marry to the King and ever since, she hadn’t seen his despicable face or heard of him.

Much to her pleasure.

What surprised her most was that her fellow assassins had disappeared. Surely they knew that she was captured (the chances of Syaoran telling that to the world was high) yet they hadn’t even, seemingly, made an attempt to break her out of her jail cell.

Stupid, so-called ‘comrades.’ Sakura thought ruefully to herself. Sighing, she used her nose to rub away a bothersome itch on her upper right arm. It dulled the feeling for a split second before it came back, annoying the assassin once again.

“Ughh,” She growled, glaring at her arm in disgust, “I hate you.”

“This one!!!”

Idly glancing over, Sakura saw a young woman point to her jail cell as some guards fumbled with a ring of keys. Eventually, after a pitiful struggle, they unlocked her cell door and ran towards her shackles. Quickly, they unpinned her from the wall and Sakura fell limp, a heap on the ground.

“Stand up!!”

Looking up, Sakura managed to sit up but refused to stand up. “Says who?”

“Me!”

“Who’s me?”

“Your personal assistant. Now I refuse to touch filthiness with my hands,” she looked like a bitch, “so get up, and get washed so I can take measurements of your body!!”

Sakura snarled as she pulled her weakened body up off the ground, “Who made you princess of the damn universe?!”

The girl crossed her arms in a rotten fashion, “Not princess of the world, but the wedding planner of the future Queen Li. But until then, you’re merely a woman who needs to be cleaned. So, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Growling, Sakura followed the prissy wanna-be princess out of the jail chamber, actually quite relieved that she was leaving the dingy cell. It was bad for my complexion…

-x-

“STOP-RUBBING-SO-HARD!” Sakura roared, wrenching her chin away from the several women working on cleaning her face. She was submerged in a wooden tub, arms being scrubbed, legs being scrubbed, hair being washed, face being scrubbed—she felt like she was dying.

I wish I let Li kill me that night—what the hell are they even doing?!

“When was the last time you showered?” The wedding planner inquired, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Her arms were crossed and her hair was tied up in a rather tight and plain bun.

“Before I was thrown into a damn jail cell?!” Sakura shot in extreme angered sarcasm. Sighing, the wedding planner sat down on a stool beside Sakura.

“My names Nakuru.”

“Good to know.” Sakura didn’t care.

“I have to prepare you for your wedding tomorrow.”

“Grea—wait, did you say tomorrow?!”

Nakuru’s ruby eyes gleamed. “Yes, tomorrow.”

“SAYS WHO?!”

“Your future husband.”

“ON WHAT TERMS?!”

“… of your release?” Nakuru raised an eyebrow. “Listen Queen Li,” her title was obviously spoken in disgust, “everybody knows of you being the Midnight Assassin. We all know he captured you and gave you the ‘marry me or else’ ultimatum. Don’t act surprised—the King doesn’t hide anything from his subjects.”

Sakura snarled, “Obviously not. Some things are meant to be kept personal.”

“The life of the royal sire is not personal. Learnt to accept that—your life is going to be as global as you could’ve ever imagine.” Nakuru was advising her. No disgust laced her voice. Her eyes seemed genuine.

Sakura was getting advice from a woman that pitied her predicament.

Great.

“You need to be washed up for lunch with the sire and then we need to take your measurements for your dress and—…” Nakuru breathed as Sakura felt water trickling down her back. Admittedly, the bath felt really relaxing and all of Sakura’s tense muscles were being unwound.

After moments of heavenly rest, Sakura was lifted out of the bath and wrapped in towels. Her world spun around a few times as she found herself being fitted into a corset. What the…

She didn’t even have time to breath. The ties to the corset were tied tightly, a quaint pale pink dress was pulled over her head and immediately, she was sat on a stool—her hair being fingered by many women, her face being painted with disgusting makeup and her nails being perfected by foreign women.

After what seemed like endless hours of prepping, Sakura stood in front of a mirror, shocked and in awe of herself: she was beyond the explainable words of beautiful. Her hair was in curled locks, framing her face to beyond perfection. Her eyes were painted a faint pink, her cheeks artificially blushed and, to top it off, her lips were coloured to that of a beautiful Geisha.

“…Wow…” She whispered, Nakuru gleaming brilliantly behind her. “This is—amazing…”

“I know, now shoo! The King is awaiting your presence!”

Sakura glared ominously in Nakuru’s direction before following an unknown maid out of the room. This was the first time Sakura was walking through the corridors of the castle as her and not her undercover alias. Admittedly, it felt kind of good—to be known for whom you are that is. She hated the feeling that she, literally, signed her life off to the damned devil.

Idiot.

The maid pushed the giant iron gates open, revealing a quaint little balcony that Sakura had never seen—for the short amount of time she resided in the castle that is. In the middle of the balcony was a small breakfast table, prepared for two. Syaoran was already sitting there, dressed in a rather fine morning outfit, complete with a cape and his sheath.

Curtseying, the maid scurried off and Sakura, awkwardly, approached her—dare she say it?—fiancé.

Standing up, Syaoran pulled out Sakura’s chair and ushered her to sit down. Reluctantly, she complied. Walking back to his seat, Syaoran took his and crossed his arms, regarding Sakura with, to her obvious disdain, pleasure.

“You look mighty fine without your assassin, or undercover, garb on. You would make a rather exquisite princess.” He approved. Wanting to spit in his face, Sakura merely turned her head away. Syaoran drew a soft, yet harsh, chuckle.

“Get used to it, love,” he spat out with disgust, “this is your life now. Walking around, pretending you want to be here—pretending you want to be my wife.”

Sakura decided to interrupt, “You told everyone I’m the forced, unwanted bride!!”

Syaoran snickered, “To the ears of my employees. To the ears of my citizens, you are the love of my life, as I am yours. So act that way.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then you die.”

Snarling, Sakura looked away from the dreadful Syaoran to see a copious amount of butlers walking in with trays of food. Shocked, she turned back to him—“Wh-what is this?”

“Food, I can’t really let my wife starve, now can I?”

Snorting, Sakura crossed her leg over her left knee, staring harshly at him. “You didn’t hesitate when I lay crumpled in the dungeons.”

Snickered, he nodded at the head butler as the placed the trays of food down in front of the soon-to-be-newly-weds. One by one, exquisite dishes were adorned in front of them and the scent was getting to Sakura’s head… she was so used to eating the shit that Syaoran gave her while she was housed in that dingy little cell.

“That was different.” He shrugged. Grabbing a spoon, he placed some dumplings onto his plate. “So, I assume you heard we’re getting married tomorrow?”

Sakura glared at him. “Yes I did, what’s with the rush?”

“No rush—I just want to seal my fate and yours as soon as possible. Who knows,” his eyes darkened, “you might try to behead me once again.”

Snorting, Sakura crossed her arms. “For good reason.”

“Tell me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“And why is that?”

Sakura looked away from him, remaining quiet. Sighing, Syaoran noted that Sakura hadn’t touched any amount of food. Glancing to his left, he saw Sakura’s lady-in-waiting—well, wait. Ushering her over, Syaoran quietly instructed her to take Sakura to her bedroom, to the room beside his. He also told the lady-in-waiting to help Sakura change and get her anything her heart so wishes and desire… and he also instructed her to get three of the top guards to be out of her bedroom… at all times.

Nodding, the lady-in-waiting scurried over to Sakura and quietly whispered in her ear that she would take her to a bedroom so Sakura could freshen up and possibly sleep comfortably. Without taking a spare glance at Syaoran, Sakura stood up and followed her personal maid off.

She didn’t even send a sparing glance.

Growling, Syaoran ripped his cape off. Why did I ever make that blasted promise that I’d marry the wench that wants to kill me?! Stupid promise…

Glancing at his pinky, his anger escalated, Stupid jewel!

-x-

Sakura had changed out of her gown and into a nightshift. She crawled into the comfortable bed and rubbed her wrists and ankles—they still hurt. Sighing in pain and misery, she lay down quietly, allowing silent tears to roll down her face.

Where are the others?

Her mind raced with wonder.

Why aren’t they here—where did they go?

But the most important question plagued her mind yet…

How on earth did I let that stupid King overcome me? I was trained better—how did it happen?

-x-

Sorry for the extremely long wait—no honest explanation. I’m updating all of my old stories, as you can see—Taste of Love is coming to a complete and I just updated The Curse of Asmahrany today. Seirya is being posted and, slowly, things are going the way they should.

Tell me how the first chapter of the second legacy is!! :D, peace, love and happiness guys!