bakerstreet | Bad Time - Population: You

[Just don't expect him to make his decisions based on feeling.]

After they parted, Kunzite left Makoto to herself for a long time. He told himself that this was because it would be a punishment for her: isolation, confinement, the inability to do whatever she hoped to do.

Because she'd better believe he gave orders to the servants and eunuchs that the captured guardswoman of the sultana Serenity should be allowed every comfort and luxury - and no freedom of movement. She was allowed only in her room, and for closely watched walks in the gardens.

He let weeks pass this way, until he had her brought to him after she'd been washed and dressed and perfumed. He smiled as she was led into his presence, where he was sitting comfortably against several cushions.

"Such a pleasure to see you again." And such questionable sincerity.

[continuing AU/scenario from harem meme]

Edited 2016-07-04 16:29 (UTC)

The weeks became longer and longer. Makoto longed to ride her horses.
To train.
She missed her comrades and her Sultana.
Was he simply planning to break her down and test her loyalty?

As she was guided to his chamber, her bitterness bubbled again. This time was different than before though. Physically and mentally she was exhausted.

"What do you want?"

His smile widened a little. "I have good news." For him, anyway. "There has been no word from your sultana. So you will be staying here awhile longer."

Let that sink in. The sultana had not asked for the return of her supposedly dear guardswoman. She had not tried to bargain, nor demand, nor rescue.

And it was true. The part Kunzite was not saying, was that it was by his own design. He had made sure to keep the sultana busy - border raids, stirring up diplomatic troubles with the sultana's other neighboring lands, whatever it took. There had been no time to ask after a prisoner, no matter how dear.

No, he wasn't saying that part. Better, for him, to let Makoto think she had simply been dropped as either a hopeless, or an unimportant, cause.

In that short moment, her heart sank and buried itself deep in her stomach. Tears formed in her eyes and her fists balled up.
She fought hard not too cry, but her loneliness was too strong and a few drops escaped.

"You liar! You fucking liar!"

It couldn't be true. There was no way. Forgotten by everyone she thought of as a friend and left to the enemy.

"Oh?" he asked, keeping his tone to one of polite interest. "Perhaps you have more knowledge of her plans than I?"

That, of course, would be extremely dangerous. And anyway, he knew how closely Makoto was guarded. A shrug. He had only asked the rhetorical question to remind Makoto that she didn't have any word.

To keep her emotionally off-guard (of course he hadn't reacted to her tears, neither by mockery nor by comfort), he changed the topic entirely.

"You've become even more beautiful while you've been here." Truth - he would have credited the harem clothing and the perfumes - as well as words guaranteed to hit at - well, something inside her, anyway.

Betrayal was one thing. She had been betrayed before, but never by her Sultana.
Makoto spent those weeks thinking of her and her comrades. Her best friends. She loved them with all her heart.
She refused to believe Kunzite's words, but it was true. She knew nothing about them. No messages, no glimpses of her gold and silver flags or crescent moon emblem. Was that it?
Was their lives united together in vain?

By this time her wounds had healed and the bandages were off letting him see more of her bare skin. Even in her captivity, she did her best to keep her physical condition up, but it was only so much. To her, she had grown weak, tired, and soft although in reality her physique hadn't changed that drastically.
Is that what he meant by beautiful?
Was her crying what he meant by beautiful?

"Sh-sh-shut up!"
Her voice even stung her own ears with her gasps of air and her tears fell faster.

She still refused to stand down. She would find a letter from the Sultana. A letter in Serenity's adorably sloppy handwriting bargaining for her guard, Makoto Kino. She'd find it, she'd told herself over and over.

Perhaps it was. As intriguing and exciting as he found her energy and strength, Kunzite also seemed to want Makoto as the soft woman. It was both those qualities that made her, as he frankly said, beautiful.

He did not, of course, shut up.

"You already belong here," was what he chose to say, as if this should be recompense for losing the life she'd known before. As if she should start thinking of herself as belonging here. Because of course that was the point.

And of course she'd never find a letter from her sultana. If such existed, he would have destroyed it immediately after reading to be sure.

"Shut up!"
Her scream would probably alert the guards, but at that point she didn't care. She would rather them enter.
What would they do? Kill her?
Her life was her duty for the Sultana no matter the consequences. What happens when her Sultana forgets her?

"I swear... I do whatever it takes... to kill you."

Her knees started to wobble to the point of giving out. He wanted to break her down. This was his plan. He would break her down and build her up to his liking. She struggled to keep some form of composure. Not show him that her heart was utterly destroyed.

A few moments and her tears stopped and her breathing, although deep, was labored.
She would compose her outside and her heart would follow.

"I'll kill you."

In fact, as soon as the men alerted by her yelling entered the room, Kunzite ordered them to bring shackles and sent the men away to fetch them. After all, he could hardly ignore such a threat, even if failing to order his men to take her and lock her inside her room showed that he believed she had little chance of carrying it out.

"Such a misdirection of your anger," he commented. "Jewels would suit your neck and wrists and ankles so much better."

Makoto had been here long enough, he decided, to begin understanding that his will, here, was law.

"I've heard," he said irrelevantly, "that you enjoy baking."

Almost numbly, she barely acknowledged the guards and their task. She was brought back to the scene only when he mentioned 'baking'.
With it, her tears began to fall again.

"What do you want?"

She was becoming wiser. Protesting the chains (which will be worn for awhile, as a reminder of his position here and hers) would have done her no good. Understanding that means they will likely be removed very soon.

What did he want? Why, she could surely have guessed.

"I want to taste your cooking." A whim, he'd claim. Only a whim. Of course. He glanced at the shackles, which of course would make this impossible right now. "The next time we meet."

She'd be supervised, of course; he wouldn't put it past her to try poisoning him.

No, she wasn't going to leave just yet.

"You bring me here to break me down and then you want to taste my cooking and wrap me in jewels."

"I brought you here to give you news," he said smoothly. Her reaction was her choice, he'd have argued.

He wasn't going to say, I brought you here because I wanted to see you.

I brought you here because I wanted you.

"How did you think I was going to react?!"

Desperate, she grappled for a fault in his words. Anything that would prove him a liar.

He had known the news would upset her, of course. He had hoped - perhaps groundlessly - that it would loosen her ties to her old life, just a little. (Of course he knew very well that one incident would not be enough to make her his, but there would be another, and another, until he had her.)

"So get angry at the sultana," he invited. After all, he was not responsible for the sultana's actions.

In a rush, she grabbed a cushion with both shackled hands and threw it to the curtained wall.
Her face was red and her curly tendrils fell over in a mess.

...

"If it pleases the dear sultan, I wish to go for a walk in the garden." She didn't wait for his approval and instead, Makoto turned around to face the door.

The thrown cushion, he could overlook. But she was going to earn her little walk in the garden.

"First turn around," he said, not harshly, but with every expectation of being obeyed. At least 'first' meant he was planning to agree after whatever he wanted.

She did as she was told, the skirt flashing all of her legs as she turned.

Mentally, she couldn't handle anymore.

Edited 2016-07-04 22:31 (UTC)

He watched the swirl of the fabric appreciatively, and imagined that muscular thigh and calf laid out for him in... more amenable circumstances.

Did she know what she did to him?

A hard look assured him that the guards were, at least outwardly, barely taking notice. Of course, it would mean their jobs or worse if they had been leering at someone he considered his; and anyway, they were expected to be fairly impassive.

"You really are exquisite," he said, varying the compliments but apparently never tiring of paying them. But that was not what he had stopped her for. He beckoned to another of the servants, who brought forth, of all things, a carefully potted flower. It was pink, and fragrant with a hint of musk to its smell.

"This is a new flower, cultivated in your honor," he said. A nod towards Makoto, and the servant holding the flower came forward to hand it to her.

As soon as rumor got out that he'd done this for her, the natural assumption of everyone who heard it would be that she had become his long ago, perhaps even on the first night she arrived here. Further, the assumptions would go, clearly she had pleased him. There were a lot of women who'd give a lot for that.

"It needs a strong name, don't you think?" he suggested. "Perhaps... the Jupiter Rose?"

Edited 2016-07-04 22:39 (UTC)

Even past her puffy, red eyes, a hint of a blush formed on her cheeks. She craved for companionship especially after Kunzite's claims about the Sultana.
Her people honored the planet Jupiter and astronomers tracked its path across the sky. Festivals were held at certain times depending on the cycle. Makoto, who had been born with the planet overhead, held a special honor and took the name 'Jupiter'.
To be fair, she had no idea how much Kunzite knew about her. If he would know about her homeland and the beliefs.

"...I-I want to take a walk!" She turned away from the flower and back toward the door.

"As you wish." Another of those half-mocking fluid salutes, and Kunzite beckons that Makoto is to be allowed her walk in the gardens.

When she returns to the palace and her room, she will find the flower has been brought there, a constant reminder of him for her to face the entire time she stays here.

He let her brood on that for awhile. It was only a few days this time, though, before he called for her again. The servant brought word that the sultan expected her to bring a sample of her own baking, as he had asked at their last meeting.

And this time, he would receive her in his bedchamber. When she arrived, she would find him dressed in light silk, reclining against cushions set before a low table.

The room would be trashed again, but the flower was left untouched. In fact, the flower was kept well watered and taken care of.

Makoto was given another outfit for her meeting, a simpler this time.

She placed the cake on the table and crossed her arms. An orange scented cake with a thick glaze and sugared blossoms. It wasn't the most impressive- the cake was slightly overbaked and the decoration was not as elegant as she could've made it, but her handiwork would've given Kunzite's head baker a run for his money.

Kunzite/Ichiou Shin | PGSM Sailor Moon | OTA

starter for yukitohogo

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