Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" And though I can't recall your face
I'VE STILL GOT LOVE FOR YOU"
―TO SAY YIZHI KIR-TABAN HAD CHANGED WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT.
Some would say she was a prisoner in her own home.
She liked to say that she was the ward.
The days once spent in the luxury of the Little Palace had been exchanged for the gorgeous sights of Ahmrat Jen, marbled floors and gilded railings that contrasted beautifully against the jade vases and weapons on display in every hall, the monarchs having had at least the good taste to add a splash of pink blossoms into the mix.
It wasn't as though Yi hated the sight of it, but some days having a bit more of variety couldn't hurt. Her taste for decorating had never changed throughout the three years that passed in the confines of Shu Han, at least. But everything else certainly had.
The first few days she'd come home were pure misery, exacted to elicit the most agonizing amount of annoyance from her. She was saddled with court meetings and events to be welcomed home, though she knew her mother, Sarnai Kir-Taban, and her lovely cousin, Makhi, were far from happy about it.
But Makhi Kir-Taban was nothing if not a strategist, and in the first few months that Yi had used to settle into her chambers, the queen of Shu Han had made it clear that her only plans for Yi were to marry her off for political gain the first chance she'd recieve.
It wasn't just adjusting to Ahmrat Jen that had changed for her.
Yi herself became an entirely different person.
No one would be able to pinpoint the exact moment when her mind and heart shifted, when she suddenly became an expert at building walls and crafting masks of composure, serenity, calm, tranquility. There was no room for the sentimental girl she was, the one who had cried for the firebird and her friends in the battle against the Darkling, the one sweeter than honey. So she hid that part of her and sealed the gap using war tactics and intelligence, using her newfound maturity and beauty and charm that even Nikolai Lantsov would be envious of.
And Saints, did she rise, beloved by the people for good reason, put upon a pedestal she had little interest in.
For a while, Yi forced herself to survive in the palace and among her people for the promise of a stupidly handsome prince she used to know.
