(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ee/Midori.jpg)<br/><br/>Shun Midori was not a happy woman. She'd trained with her father's troops from childhood, made a name for herself as a strong but fair leader and warrior, even at her young age. It was no secret her father was disappointed that his first born had been female, but it was a secret that Midori envied the love and attention her father paid to her younger brother. It would be her brother that would inherit everything, while Midori had been married off to the first person her father could shift her off onto.<br/><br/>Midori stood tall and proud, befitting her rank, keeping all emotion out of her eyes. It had been a long week's journey to get here, and they had arrived, as her father had planned, on her sixteenth birthday. He hadn't wanted to wait to be rid of her, hadn't even wished her a good day. But she would not cry, would not allow anyone to see her hurt. She had done everything in her life to please him, but he had never wanted her.<br/><br/><em>Lao Fang. Palace Minister. Advisor to Shun Tai, her betrothed, a man she'd never met. Uses a cane due to a knee injury when he had been Chief Protector of the previous emperor, injured when he had been not much older than she.</em>She ran through this little bit of information, all of the information she had on him, really, and she couldn't help but peek curiously around her father's shoulder to see this man that would most likely become a part of her new life as Empress.<br/><br/>Soft brown eyes blinked at him, taking in his dress, his cane, his stature...and the creature behind him. A gasp escaped her lips, and without a second thought, she stepped quickly in front of Shun Hideyoshi, her father. She was a tiny woman, barely over five feet, slender but muscular, and very definitely feminine. A delicate brow raised in question as she looked directly at Lao Fang. "You think to greet Shun Hideyoshi by bringing Death? Is this the welcome your new Empress should expect?" Her voice was soft and tinkling, though the words themselves demanded an answer. Tiny, almost dainty hands rested on the swords at her hips, leaving no doubt that this porcelain doll could be as harsh and vicious as she needed to be.<br/><br/><em>He seems an intelligent, respectful man</em>she thought.<em>And quite handsome. May my wishes be granted that my betrothed is the same.</em>