A bit of warning ahead. This will contain dubious and non-con at some point, so if that is not your cup of tea, you should better not pick this up.
Secondly, while I originally wanted to set this in a close approximation of either Japanese or Chinese history, I found that neither was fit for what I have planned for this story. So I opted for a setting that is a very liberal blend of Chinese, Japanese and European history and culture. I took a lot of artistic license there. I did try to keep continuity, so it shouldn't be too bad.
Lastly, this won't have regular updates, as I do have a substantial amount written already, but a lot of that are bits and pieces that haven't been connected to the main storyline yet. Also I find it rather hard to find the right narrative tone for this one, so writing and subsequential editing go very slow.
Other than that, I hope you enjoy this.

When he had woken up this morning Kuroko Tetsuya had been little more than the exiled son of a Lord, the night will see him as consort and Queen to the most powerful man on the continent. Tetsuya supposes that's not an everyday occurrence, which does remarkably little to lift his spirits. This isn't a place he wants to be; it's just another iteration of the prison of his birthright.

A prison he is certain to break out off eventually. Everything is still covered by his calculations after all.

He won't meet the Emperor and future husband before the actual ceremony, but that's alright as well. It's not a marriage that's supposed to last. One way or another.

Tetsuya allows himself a sigh. It's an oddly loud sound in the confined silence of his palanquin. The outside world is muted, although all that separates them is a thin strip of cloth.

And a line of palace guards, who allow looks at the gently swaying palanquin, but no more. He's a treasure for the Emperor's eyes alone.

Every Emperor needs a Queen, not for blood, not for power, but merely for a noble name. It's the Queen that cements succession. As long as the Emperor is the father, any child can become heir when the adoptive mother is of noble blood.

And somewhere along the way, people stopped caring if the 'mother' was male or female.

It allows his role in this, but Tetsuya has left little more than contempt for the twisted games of noble boredom and ambition that led to the deadlocked rule system antiquated values and morales they're stuck in now. Schemes and Secrets wrapped in tradition.

Tetsuya is tired, despite having barely moved for most of the day. But he had to rise early, getting prepared for a marriage he doesn't want. Even before the actual ceremony, there are countless traditions to be honored, rituals to be followed. He's dressed in white silk, wide sleeved and flowing, like the folds of a rose, some long lost metaphor eternalized in the stones of tradition.

Tradition.

Tetsuya hates the word to his bones.

Tradition is the material his shackles are forged from; tradition is the reason he doesn't remember his mother's face.

His hair is too short for the traditional hair style, so he's left with one single hairpin adorned with a white lily for purity. Flower symbolism is a central theme of the ceremonies, every flower has its own meaning and white lilies are the go to symbol for virginal brides.

Not that the actual state of his virginity matters.

The robe is heavy, layers and layers of silk and Tetsuya is astonished how a fabric so light can pile up such a mass of uncomfortable weight. But he's not supposed to move much anyway, in his slowly swaying palanquin.

The air is filled with the chimes of bells and as they progress Tetsuya can hear the constant thrum of drums. Even in his enclosed space, the air is heavy with incense and it wakes memories, Tetsuya has spent years to bury. But the emotions have dulled over the years. Still, it's disheartening and Tetsuya doesn't wish for the first time that the day was already over.

It's warm and stuffy inside, and Tetsuya wants nothing more than to pull off his robes. All he has is a fan, his family's crest on brittle silk paper. The seal with its dark colors stands out starkly against the rest of his white getup. As loath as the crest is to him, with all it represents, the fan does remind him of the gentler parts of his home.

A breeze picks up but fails to do more than to rustle the curtains securely tied in place. It reminds Tetsuya that, if tradition holds true, he will never see the outside world again. A prisoner or a Queen, the difference is often negligible.

And Tetsuya knows that he is little more than the price for silence.

The bells and drums are joined by other instruments now, zithers and cymbals and the high wailing of an erhu. The sounds are supposed to inspire awe, but all they do is induce a headache. The incense isn't helping either and Tetsuya is glad, for a change, for the long sleeve of his robe. He covers his mouth and closes his eyes, deep breaths against faintly peach scented silk fabric.

It helps at least a little.

The character of the ambient sounds changes, from muffled cheers and music to a form of muted silence that hints at a closed off space; they must have reached the palace walls. Tetsuya doesn't get to see the transition that will inexorably separate him from his old life.

There are voices now, distinct and closer than the murmur of the crowds. The palanquin sways to a halt before it's lowered to the ground. They've reached their destination, somewhere inside the palace, from where he is to take the first steps on his new path.

The doors to the palanquin are pulled open and Tetsuya finds himself face to face with a man he doesn't know. Not that he expected anything different. The man takes longer than he should to focus his attention on Tetsuya and when he does; his eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. He recovers quick enough though and offers his hand for Tetsuya to disembark. He wears white gloves and he makes a point not to meet Tetsuya's eyes.

He's unremarkable enough, so Tetsuya puts his attention elsewhere.

The world that greets him is a buzzing beehive in the disguise of a human dwelling. They're in a large room with high ceilings and overdone decorations. The Imperial palace is an old building, full of history and filled with the tastes of a hundred different men. Tetsuya has never seen it before, but it's easy to believe now. This room does hold testimony to a time long past, when gold was cheap and abundant in the Empire's mines. Everything is lavishly decorated in a redundant display of wealth. It doesn't help at all with his headache.

"Welcome Kuroko-dono." He's greeted by a different man, the other one has disappeared somewhere in the endless reflections of light on polished gold. The man he's facing now is smiling, no he's actually grinning at him, and then he bows, flourished and with little finesse to the smaller distinctions of rank. His eyes are as golden as his hair and he seems to suffer from no small amount of over enthusiasm.

He wears the dark gray uniform with burgundy trimmings that identify him as one of the Emperor's personal guards. A prestigious and powerful title, given only to those who possess the absolute rust of the Emperor. They do after all directly represent the Emperor's will.

Tetsuya nods in greeting, the motion perfectly measured. It's difficult to maneuver through all the rules and regulations defining ranks and appropriate responses but Tetsuya has spent a very long time observing, and learning. Either way, the man doesn't look as though he even notices.

He flashes another grin, amiable and so overly friendly it's almost intimate. Tetsuya absently notes the single silver earring on his left ear. His grin slowly slips from his face when Tetsuya gives no response and finally he seems to catch on.

"My name is Kise Ryouta. I am pleased to meet you." He says, and most of the flourish has left him. He almost seems embarrassed. "Sorry about that." He grins again, but this time it's on the side of boyishly awkward and Tetsuya notes down the reaction for later use. So far the man seems to have no mal intentions whatsoever and Tetsuya sure hopes it's not an elaborate façade. But Kise's face is so honest in his dejection and awkward embarrassment; it's hard not to believe him.

His face suddenly falls even more and he hastily bows. "I mean, my humblest apologies Kuroko-dono." He falters and his resemblance to a lost puppy almost makes Tetsuya take pity on him. But this is a strange place to him, and he's currently more occupied with getting a bearing on it than providing comfort. Even with Kise pulling most of the attention, there is still so much going on in this room.

"Kise." A voice chides and Kise tenses at the sound of it.

"Please excuse my rude colleague, your highness. " The man that approaches them makes it sound like he's reading the lines from a textbook, all very formal little sincerity. His bow is curt, precisely executed as though he measured it. He's trimmed primly, hair an odd shade of green and his eyes are obscured by a pair of spectacles. The spectacles alone are worth a fortune, the art of cutting lenses is an expensive one, but that is all shadowed by the tasteless cat figurine in his hands. The fingers of his left hand are bandaged. He wears a similar uniform than Kise, only slightly different in cut and style. But it's the colors that determine rank, dark gray and burgundy and a golden chrysanthemum emblazoned on the front.

Tetsuya doesn't miss the minute flick of disapproval when the newcomer spots the fan in his hands.

"My name is Midorima Shintarou, if you would please follow me." He bows again and turns, without waiting for a reply. He manages to come off as much ruder than Kise, despite sticking tightly to protocol.

"He's always like that, don't mind him." Kise says with another easygoing smile, his earlier blunder obviously forgotten and Tetsuya decides to just take it at face value. He has other worries right now. Still, he can't forget what Aida had said to him, before their departure. So he tries a smile, as unfamiliar as it feels on his face, it does light up Kise to the point of glowing.

He needs all the allies he can get. Even if it's only good will.

Midorima has reached a door at the far end and is now waiting impatiently for Kise and Tetsuya to follow. The many servants buzzing around in the room bow when he passes, but other than that they are too fixed on their tasks. Preparations for the upcoming celebration as it seems, and Tetsuya wonders if he should take offense that he was received amidst their presence. For the outside world he is an untouchable god, within these walls he's an unwanted element.

That's alright, he thinks. It bears no relevance to his plans.

Tetsuya reaches the door and hesitates.

It is time.

Tetsuya tightens the hold on the fan in his hands, the last anchor to the life he's left behind.

Somewhere in another place and time, May bells chime their sweet and poisonous song.