Miya woke up one morning to the kitsune-advisor’s impatient voice. Nari had only recently resumed attacking Gin after her first husband’s death—Miya was a teenager at the time.
“Get up, little princess,” Yanami Sukaru said firmly.
“Do I have to?” Miya asked quietly, only slightly opening her eyes.
One of the kitsune’s ears twitched. “Yes, you do. Make sure you have everything you need; you have to leave the capital today.”
Miya sighed and sat up. “You’ve tried to warn Mother against it?”
Yanami Sukaru frowned, but likely kept her actual opinions quiet. “Your father is dead, you’re too weak for the throne, and there’s enough children running around here as it is. You’re lucky Nari likes you, or else you’d be on the streets begging for scraps.”
“The north can’t be much better!” Miya protested.
“Honestly, you’ll probably eat more there than you would here,” the kitsune-advisor pointed out. With her duty done, she turned and walked back towards the door. “I would consider myself lucky in your position—you don’t have to deal with this insane family, and you’ll get more attention as an individual. You can do other things than fight to make yourself useful up there. Call it a blessing, thank Kyōryokuna Emaya, and go without complaints.”
The kitsune left before Miya could continue her protests. Only a few days ago, Nari decided that she would send Miya to Sólstaður—to keep her out of the war and away from danger, if nothing else. Miya’s father and older brother both suffered—and died, in the former’s case—due to fighting, and Nari wanted to avoid that for one of her favorites.
Miya sighed, and gathered her things to leave. Everything was packed and ready to go; she would need better coats during the winter, but supposedly someone should provide her with that when she got there.
She kept the kitsune-advisor’s words in mind as she left the capital with two guards after Nari’s tearful goodbye. Consider it a blessing? At first she didn’t think it was possible.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
And then, of course, she actually got there—two weeks of sailing after a few days of walking. Miya was greeted by the leaders of Sólstaður.
Her guards promptly left her, meaning that she had to make her own introduction. Out of respect, she bowed. She spoke using the two nation’s shared language, and as such her speech was a bit shaky. “Princess Kuro-Masaaki Miya, daughter of Queen Kuro Nari and First-King Masaaki Heimoru.” She left out the ‘harm me and danger will befall you’ part only because she knew it would sound pathetic coming from her.
The Roken family offered no such formality, and their patriarch spoke bluntly. He gestured to each person as he spoke of them; he also used the modern tongue, as was required when speaking directly to a Kuro citizen. “I am Elias Rokensen; this is my wife Lizette Imiadattir”—the woman to his left nodded—“and our children Amanda and Andreas.” Both children—about Miya’s age—gave their own nods as well.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Miya said. “You know why I’m here, I assume?” She wasn’t sure what to do if they didn’t.
Fortunately, the boy—Andreas—nodded. “You’ll be staying with us,” he replied. He spoke the modern tongue less confidently than she did, which brought some assurance to her.
Miya murmured an agreement, and they started on their trip there. In the following weeks, her opinions changed—she found that she liked the greater possibility of snow, and all the activities it had to offer. It only took a year before she started experimenting with assimilation—making herself fit in more naturally. She couldn’t do anything about her height, but she did dye her red hair so it looked more brown so she at least fit in more with the Kuro soldiers.
Living with the Rokens proved to be a blessing as well. She had her own room for the first few years, and it was interesting to hear of Sólstaður’s legends as well; in a way, it was also refreshing to simply hear ‘Miya’ instead of any other name, as per Sólstaður’s lax politeness qualifications. There were some difficulties—Amanda didn’t like her at first, Lizette only spoke Sólstaður’s native language, and Elias was a bit harsh on Andreas—but Miya learned that even the Roken’s shouting was much quieter than at home. She was homesick at first, before Byen Roken became her new home instead.
Miya found love in the north as well—with none other than Andreas Roken, in fact. They entertained the idea of romance for a few months at a time, stopped to see what it was like with someone else, then inevitably fell back in love. To bring everything up to current events, Andreas eventually gave up trying and just bluntly asked her to marry him and be done with it—she agreed, and in the year since it’s been wonderful.
The north was known as a cold place, but Miya only ever felt warmth while she was there.