Caveat Emptor

Chapter Seven

The last of the sun’s rays gave way to nightfall. Relena’s body-servant had only lit enough candles to bathe the room with a warm glow. Casting the most perfunctory glance at the myriad of shadows the torch lights shed, Relena sank down into her seat with a loud, unladylike sigh.

The sound prompted Hilde to pause briefly in her evening task of letting down her Lady’s fashioned locks. “You sound irritated, my Lady. Surely you are not disappointed because Caesar did not include you in the travelling party to Alexandria?”

Stretching her arms above her head in a leisurely arch, Relena laughed quietly at her friend.

“Goodness no, Hilde. I am more than satisfied with remaining in the Palace while Milliardo is away. I have only been home for such a short time, and there are much more interesting things here.”

Hilde snorted. “Aye, My Lady, that there is. Much more interesting things.” Her expression gave way to a wicked grin.

Relena blushed, understanding the Celt’s meaning immediately. Clearing her throat, she refused to dignify the comment with a response and instead allowed Hilde to let down the elaborate braids and curls. And not a moment too soon. Today’s style, with the added weight of ceremonial jewellery, was giving her a headache.

“You are so lucky,” Relena sighed, tugging at a loose strand of her hair, “to be able to have such short hair. It must be so much cooler and comfortable.”

Her companion was silent for a moment, the quick movements of her fingers stilling for only the briefest second.

“Yes, My Lady, I guess it is.” Hilde’s voice sounded distant. Relena chewed her lip. Perhaps her handmaiden's hair was not her own choice.

The Lady scowled. What was wrong with her lately? When had she become so tactless?

Only two days before, she had walked in the gardens with Dorothy… and he had heard them. Heero...

She was grateful of the quiet time alone in her garden. The trip to the harbour and back had been long, and she was tired. Perhaps she should be worrying about her brother, and the potentially hazardous journey he had just embarked on. She could not ignore the feeling of apprehension that had troubled her since her all too brief introductions to the Egyptian Queen. There was an air of desperation about the woman that she feared Milliardo had blinded himself to.

She wished Quatre had been there. His sense of people was always infallible, and Relena would have liked to know his opinion. He had been so busy of late, his visits much less frequent than before… She would ask him to visit her tomorrow. It would be good to share her suspicions with her cousin.

But for now, Relena was happy to be left to her solitary reflections. The afternoon was already cooling, as the sun crept lower in the West. Plucking a flower from a nearby bush, she inhaled the calming aroma of its sweet perfume. So deep in meditation was she that it was not until he was only metres away that she became aware of her silent observer.

“Heero, you must stop sneaking about so. Anyone would think you were up to no good.”

She smiled gently, feigning a look of relaxed detachment that was quite contradictory to the racing rhythm of her heart. She should have been accustomed to the way he would appear and then disappear so effortlessly

“What would you prefer, My Lady? That I pass my time providing amusement to your many cosseted and pampered friends”

Relena could do no more than stare, his caustic tone plunging a knife into her breast. His relentless glare of condemnation only succeeding in driving the blade deeper still. What did he mean? What could she have done to have earned such contempt?

A moment passed, and Relena struggled to make sense of his allegation. He stared back at her, his dark eyes flashing with ire and… something else.

And then she remembered…

Relena’s stomach twisted again at the memory that had confirmed what she secretly dreaded. He had heard her callously offer him to her companion as though she thought him no more than property.

What must he think of her? Well, she had a fairly good idea now.

She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t meant it. That he had misunderstood. That she would never treat him with such disdain. But it was not as though she could tell him her true reasoning; could not describe to him the jealous burn that had eaten at her insides at the thought of him with anyone else.

It was probably better that he remain angry at her.

Relena felt the angry sting of her fingernails digging into the palm of her hands. She glanced down at her fists clenched in her lap. If only the meagre ache could divert her thoughts to something else. Something less… confusing.

Behind her, Hilde removed the last of the pins that had contained Relena’s length of blonde hair, setting them aside and reaching for a brush to straighten out the artificial curls. Relena heaved a loud sigh, prompting Hilde to stop and cast a questioning glance at her.

“My Lady? Whatever is troubling you?”

Unable to meet her friends’ gaze, Relena fixed her eyes on her lap. “Heero is angry with me.”

Her companion lifted a sceptical eyebrow at her, her silence prompting Relena to continue.

“He overheard Dorothy requesting his… services.”

Hilde’s laughter surprised Relena; she stared at her maid with bemusement.

“Aye, that Lady Dorothy is bold. But why should he be angry? It is not as though you agreed--”

Relena looked away.

Hilde’s laughter quickly died, subdued by the crestfallen expression on her Lady’s face. “You did not deny her? But why ever--”

“I didn’t want her to know... I did not wish her to have evidence that I…” Relena stumbled to silence.

Hilde watched her, her hand dropping to Relena’s arm in a sympathetic gesture. “My Lady… Relena… what do you want from him?”

Shaking her head slowly, she looked up only briefly.

“I don’t know.”

Hilde sighed, returning to the tedious task of letting down Relena’s hair. Soon she was running a soft brush through the long strands and the motion served to steady Relena’s nerves.

Days earlier, Relena had asked her confidant about… the intimacies that took place between a man and a woman. Her cheeks burned even now, remembering the frank explanation the young widow had given her. Relena felt embarrassed at being naïve to such things… But an upbringing surrounded by scholars and aging politicians had sheltered her, something her more recent return to ‘society’ had made only too clear.

But it had reassured her to discover that she was not alone in possessing a romantic and faithful heart. Hilde had been scornful of the Lady Dorothy and the other women of society whose penchants for casual lovers were neither discreet nor taboo.

“While I do not doubt that others have found pleasure in the flesh of a swain, My Lady, I do not think it could ever compare to sharing your bed with someone you truly love.”

Love. There was no doubting that Hilde understood the emotion exactly. But how did one differentiate between Love and Lust? Or were they merely two different expressions of the same feeling?

Dorothy had spoken of love with scorn and derision. With such bitterness that could only have spawned from a most vicious disappointment. Had the Lady experienced true heart-break? Or did she seek to defend against it? And was she wise in her strategy? Or had she merely made of herself a cautionary tale?

Relena moved restlessly in her seat. What did she feel for Heero? She wished she could answer the one question that continued to torment her, in both wake and sleep.

What was this new-found awareness… this coiled need that lay in wait in the pit of her belly? He had awoken something in her… something that she believed only he could help her to understand.

“Hilde,” Relena turned to her friend, all traces of nervousness gone. Her decision was made. She had to follow her heart.

And her heart would only have one thing.

“Hilde, I think… I think I would speak to him… Would you help me?”

******

Hilde exited her Lady’s quarters quietly, her step light even though her heart was not. She nodded briskly to the soldiers that stood vigil outside, refusing to let their condescending glowers trouble her. What would Duo say if he saw her humble herself to mere Roman militia? What would he think if he could see her now? From a Chieftains daughter to body servant in one fell swoop.

“Oh, how you would scold me, if you were to see me now, My Love.”

For what could have been the millionth time, her fingers strayed to brush at the nape of her neck and touch the shortened strands of hair. She could barely remember now, what it felt like when her hair had fallen past her shoulders and down her back. She could still remember, though, sawing through her long locks with the dull blade, hacking away her crowning glory. Duo had always loved her hair. She would sooner die than let another man touch it.

She had been so frightened, when the slave traders first found her. She had born the lustful gazes from the men, and listened to terrible stories from the women, of perverted nobles and their ‘expectations’ of the women they purchased. She had listened with concealed horror, and she had promised herself that she would do anything to remain true to her husband.

It was over ten days before she had lost enough flesh from her bones for the trader to realise that she was not eating. They found her hacking the last strands of hair from her head and stopped her before she could cut her face. So desperate was she to deem herself worthless. In her darker moments, she wished she could have simply taken her life, but she knew that such a sin would see her separated from Duo for eternity. Even the deepest level of madness could not induce her to commit such a mistake. She could wait… she could wait.

But the fates interceded once more, and she found herself taken in to a most kind household. One that had clothed her, fed her, and given her sanctuary. That it was home to the very Emperor who had taken her husband from her presented only an uncommon kind of irony. At first, she had thought to rebel against their kindness… But that, in essence, would have been to bite the hand that fed her. With time she saw the logic in dropping her guard. After all… it would be presumptuousness indeed to question the plans of the Gods.

And now, despite everything, she had made a true friend. Duo would have liked Relena. Very much. But then, he had always told her that he had complete trust in her judge of character. How she missed him.

Hilde closed her eyes, losing herself in the memory of his touch. She remembered how she loved to sleep, spooned against his back, her cheek pressed to the soft plane of skin between his shoulder blades. She was never sure if it was simply his comforting, solid presence or the steady rhythm of his breathing as he slept, but sharing their bed had always been home to her. Sometimes, she wished that time could have been frozen, allowing them to spend eternity hiding in their safe haven. She could not remember ever sleeping more sound than then…. Now, she hardly slept at all.

But then, she was not the only one suffering from the loss of sleeps’ good graces. Insomnia appeared the bane of several inhabitants within the 'palaces’ vast walls. The servants were abuzz with talk of the reticent Heero, his nocturnal wanderings and solitary behaviour a curiosity to all. They watched him with suspicion and distrust. He was not one of them, and made no effort to be.

They had heard of his assault on the nurse that had aided him, had witnessed his silent insolence towards the head of housekeeping - a woman that demanded the obedience of every servant that entered her domain. They were afraid of him, but there was also a strange sort of respect. Like they knew he was not one of them… But something more.

"I am not afraid of him. And more importantly, neither is Relena."

He was only a man, and a proud and arrogant one at that. Not unlike her Duo, when she thought about it. Hilde wondered what the other servants would think if they knew of the love that grew between him and their beloved Lady. And it was love. She was sure of that. Even if it was yet to blossom, and make its’ self known to them. She wanted to help them, she knew that, but there was a sense of foreboding that persisted despite the romantic inclination of Hilde’s heart.

Perhaps she had been wrong to encourage Relena? She had certainly allowed herself to become wrapped up in the whole fantastical idea of such star-crossed lovers, but in hindsight, such a dalliance could only end in heartbreak. Could she really assist her Lady in this deception? She wanted to help her, knew she could deny Relena nothing. But…

For now, however, she had much to plan for the following day. And she knew that she needed the assistance of one more if she were to carry out her Lady’s wishes. Hilde sighed. For Relena’s sake, she hoped Caesar’s trip would prove to be a long one.

****** 

He had spotted her long before she became aware of him. She still wore the heavy robes chosen for her farewell to her brother, and despite a shadow of weariness, her beauty was overwhelming. He had become less and less surprised when finding her wandering through the gardens on her own; her love of solitary reflection was all too clear to him now. She had plucked a blossom from nearby foliage, and she cradled the pale petals in her fingers as she walked. For not the first time, Heero wished for the birthright to walk beside her, wished that she would welcome him into her company.

But he knew now… knew what a fool he was to entertain such fantasies. She felt nothing for him. Why should she? He should be counting himself lucky that she had not banished him from her sight after he had forced himself on her. But she had done nothing, and although he had thought to ask her for forgiveness, he had, thus far, been unable to raise the courage.

“Why, Lady Dorothy, I’m surprised that you think it necessary to ask.  I could never deny the comforts of a guest.”

Those words had not ceased ringing in his ears since he had the misfortune of overhearing them. He had no one to blame but himself, of course; he had chosen to listen in on their discussion. But that knowledge did little to ease his rancour. She would do that? She would hand him over to the pleasure of another? Would she really expect him to…? The very thought sickened him.

'I would have been better left with the slave trader.'

She was almost before him now, and he realised too late that his opportunity for escape had long since passed. He steeled himself, ready to receive what could only be a perfunctory greeting.

But she surprised him, again; her eyes widened as though startled to find him there. She stopped, only a few meagre feet from him, and smiled.

“Heero, you must stop sneaking about so. Anyone would think you were up to no good.”

Pink touched her cheeks; she lifted the flower to her face and inhaled deeply its’ perfumed aroma. Her action was so relaxed, so nonchalant, and Heero envied her. Watching her there, even more unobtainable than he could ever have fathomed, Heero felt a bitterness rise that left a most unpalatable taste in his mouth.

“What would you prefer, My Lady? That I pass my time providing amusement to your many cosseted and pampered friends?”

The harshness of his words wiped the gentle smile from her lips. For the most fleeting moment, he was struck by a wave of guilt, but he was quick to quash it. He was still too affronted to allow his ire to be dampened by a pair of beguiling blue eyes.

“I don’t… understand…” She barely whispered her response, the words strangled and almost unintelligible.

Could she honestly not understand what he was referring to? She stared at him for another moment, before her brow became furrowed and a hot flush rose to her cheeks. Relena straightened, squaring her shoulders and setting her chin with a most self-possessed motion.

“Perhaps no one has ever taken the time to caution you, Heero, on the folly of eavesdropping. If I felt so inclined, I could set your misconceptions straight. But you give the impression that it would be a wasted endeavour. ”

She brushed passed him then, her tone of disapproval washing over him, and left him to brood over her parting words.

Her reaction confused him. She was openly affronted by his accusation, even reprimanding him for listening in on her conversation. But he knew what he had heard. Did she honestly hold such contempt for him?

Heero scowled at her retreating back, suddenly unsure if his aggravation was truly directed at her… Or himself. What kind of fool was he, to allow himself such weakness? Turning sharply on his heel, he wished only to further the distance between them… Anything to diminish the unsettling turmoil of emotion that meant to overwhelm him.

'Why do I allow her to do this to me?’

His step faltered; stalled by the sensation of something crumpling beneath his foot. He glanced down, only to see the selfsame pale flower that Relena had cradled in her hand only minutes before. He scooped it up, and an unexpected feeling of remorse twisted his stomach into one large knot. He had crushed the very blossom she had, just moments before, embraced with such tenderness.

Its’ petals were bruised now; no longer fresh and vibrant, instead the flower lay battered and wilted in his palm. If he thought himself a superstitious soul, which he did not, Heero could almost have gazed upon the bloom and believed it to be a most unsettling omen. Instead he found himself carefully tucking the crumpled flower into the folds of his tunic, impulsively making of it a keepsake.

He knew, even before glancing back over his shoulder, that Relena was long gone. Sighing, he cast a disheartened eye over the empty courtyard, left to lament another ruined opportunity to be near her.

He doubted the Gods had ever beheld a greater fool.

“I don’t know what job you could possibly have for him, Captain. Oh, he works hard enough, I grant you… But insolent! No respect at all…”

The grating falsetto of the Palace Housekeeper was an unwelcome herald to the woman’s arrival. Gritting his teeth with displeasure, Heero turned in the direction of her approaching footsteps and was surprised to see the now- familiar soldier that accompanied her.

The woman visibly recoiled at the sight of him, no doubt aware that he had heard her petulant whining. It gave him some satisfaction, the knowledge that the formerly overbearing wench now regarded him with such apprehension. If anything, it meant she avoided him whenever possible. Which, of course, wasn’t nearly often enough.

She recovered her composure quickly enough though, and graced him with a particularly condescending scowl. Heero was sure that the presence of the tall Captain was the only thing sustaining her sudden return of animosity.

“There you are. Have you not finished the gardens yet? Standing around in a stupor again I suppose…”

Tuning out the woman’s inane scolding, Heero turned his attention to the Captain, who was silently watching the housekeeper with little expression save the arch of a smooth eyebrow. Trowa was silent for a few moments, before he twisted his head and directed his focus on Heero, cutting her short.

“Your company has been requested.”

His words were abrupt, blunt, and left little room for argument. Turning sharply on his heel, he did not look back to see if ‘the slave’ followed or to glimpse the open- mouthed astonishment of the Housekeeper. Not waiting for the woman’s consent, Heero moved quickly to follow him.

They were well out of her sight before Trowa eased his stride, although if Heero hoped to be enlightened as to their destination he was to be sorely disappointed. Instead they wove their way through corridors and across courtyards in silence, until Heero had all but lost track of which direction they had taken.

There was something in the soldier’s countenance that bothered Heero. Wherever they were headed, it was obvious Trowa was not happy about it. Over the past weeks, he had become accustomed to the watchful gaze of the Captain. There were times when he thought the man had something he would say to him, ask of him… but the moment was always fleeting.

The attention was not one of a bodyguard, ever vigilant of his charge. While Heero had little doubt that Trowa was not in favour of Relena’s attention towards him, he made no move to warn the slave off. Instead he gave the impression of a man waiting patiently.

Heero simply had no idea what he was waiting for.

But his normally curious manner was not to be seen today. Instead he walked slightly ahead, his back rigid and his hand clenched unconsciously around the grip of his sword. His normally smooth features were shadowed with a scowl of displeasure. It was possible that the Captain’s ire was directed at something unrelated to their destination.

But Heero doubted it.

They stopped so suddenly before the large double doors that at first, he thought Trowa had lost his way. The corridor itself was certainly not familiar to him and the doors bore no identifying mark of importance. They did not resume on their way, however, and Heero waited with concealed impatience for the soldier to give out his orders.

The tall Captain watched him in silence. Heero stared back. Trowa opened his mouth, about to say something before deciding against it. He pushed one of the large doors open with a forceful shove, indicating that Heero should pass through. Sensing that Trowa had no intention of following, Heero turned back quickly, immobilized by the sudden expression of discord on the other man’s face and his parting words.

They had no meaning to him. They were barely spoken … yet there was a familiarity there… a feeling of deep seeded regret… and bitterness…  

“I have become accustomed to coming second best to you.”

******

The tiled floor was warm beneath his feet. On the walls around him, the outlines of athletes, both men and women, were illustrated in mosaics. Heero cast his gaze around the bath house, observing the bath that was set in floor in the centre of the room. The heated water was embellished with flower petals, their sweet fragrance perfuming the air. On the other side of the room, a curtain separated him from what he could only assume were private sleeping quarters.

Why was he here?

Against one wall, clean clothing was laid out beside towels, oils and other bathing utensils. In his time at the Palace, Heero had never been instructed to carry out the chores of a body servant and he now found himself glaring at the implements with an uneasy trepidation.

If this was what he had been sent for, he had no idea of how to even start. If he had not already known that the old woman was not party to this task, he would have suspected it to be a set up on her part.

“There you are! I was beginning to think that you had lost your way.”

Heero started, not only at the unexpected sound of the woman’s voice, but at her close proximity. How had she come to stand so close to him without raising his awareness?

Hilde laughed lightly, completely oblivious to the dark glare he sent in her direction. Looking him up and down, she tutted softly.

“Goodness, look at the state of you. You can’t possibly see her looking like that.” Wrinkling her nose, she added, “Or smelling like that.”

Heero quirked an eyebrow at her, too averted by her mention of a third person to take offence to her insult.

“Who..?”

“Who indeed,” continued Hilde, her back to him now, as she busied herself with the items he had noticed earlier. Turning back again, she looked at him in surprise, her voice laced with exasperation.

“Well? Unless you plan to bathe fully dressed, you had better hurry and disrobe. Quickly now. I promised that I would have you ready in time for your… meeting with the Lady.”

Heero started at her, dumbfounded. The Lady? He knew there was no way that she was referring to Relena. So who else could she mean? It took less than a moment for comprehension to set in.

Tugging his tunic over his head, he balled it in his fists. He was such a fool to assume that Relena had seen him as any more than a slave. That she could see him as someone who… But he was wrong. He let the fabric drop unheeded to the floor.

She had given him to the Lady Dorothy.

******

The body servant waved her hand towards the clean garments that were laid out for him across the empty chair, and turned her head away while he dressed. The concern for his modesty was merely a token gesture; he was sure. He actually caught her peeking glances more than once. The knowledge that she had already seen him unclothed in the bath did little to subdue his need to dress quickly.

The tunic was soft against his skin, the smooth linen a cool and luxurious change to his normally coarse, woollen attire. Standing before her, sparsely clothed and barefoot, Heero felt his stomach twist. Something was taking place that he could not control… And he didn’t like it.

She looked him up and down, then quickly turned and led him into the adjoining chambers. The room was larger than he had anticipated, and softly lit by a scattered arrangement of candles that cast long shadows across the richly adorned walls. A large bed, lavishly made, rested in the 'rooms centre and he found his sight drawn to it with an increasing sense of disquiet.

“The Lady Relena is currently attending supper with the Lady Dorothy and some other guests. But you will not be kept waiting for long.”

Heero scowled at her, but the look seemed to have little to no effect. Instead, she pointed to a small table that bore an enticing array of foodstuffs.

“Make yourself comfortable. I was requested to ensure you were offered a plentiful serving of dinner. We can't have you lacking in energy.” She winked at him, the action suggestive and playful.

Heero stared at the platter of food, his mouth literally watering at the sight of the succulent morsels it displayed. The body servant had not brought the meagre breads, cheeses, and cured meats that were a normal part of the evening meal. Instead, he saw freshly roasted pheasant, fruits, pastries, and a generous pitcher of what he guessed to be honeyed wine. He feigned indifference, still unsure if he should trust the pixie-faced Celt; but the rich aroma that rose from the pheasant’s breast tested his every resilience.

His stomach emitted a loud and distinct grumble.

“You are such a man, Heero. Always pride and superiority.” Hilde laughed at him. “I went to some trouble to sneak that passed the Kitchen staff without raising their suspicion, so you would wound me deeply if you were to leave it waste. It would wound her too.”

Her features had turned serious with her final words, giving an almost cautionary air. But what did he care if he offended the proud Lady Dorothy? He planned to do more than merely cause her a little offence, when he rejected her advances. For the briefest moment, he considered casting the platter aside and scattering its contents to the floor. But he had not eaten since waking that morning, and his belly was swift to remind him of it.

Hilde watched him, her mouth curved in the smallest of smiles, her hand motioning him towards the feast.

‘It would be ungrateful to insult Hilde’s kindness.’

The bird broke apart easily in his fingers, the dripping juices moist on his lips as he sucked the flesh from the bone. He couldn’t remember when he had last tasted anything so good. Sinking into a seat, he barely lifted his head to acknowledge Hilde when she bid him an amused farewell, so engrossed was he in his indulgence. His stomach implored him to eat faster and yet his mind told him to slow himself, and savour what could well be the last time he would take gratification in such an indulgence.

Especially once he had warranted the Lady’s displeasure.

Licking his fingers clean, he reached across to sample the contents of the bejewelled pitcher, satisfied to find that it indeed contained honeyed wine. He drank a long draught, coating his tongue with its sweet flavour before swallowing deeply. At least some good had come out of this abysmal state of affairs.

Setting the jug back down with a dull clatter, Heero wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and overcame the urge to belch loudly. Selecting an appetising twist of pastry from the already diminished platter, he snatched it up and chewed. A good fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes had already passed, but there was yet no sign of the Lady Dorothy.

'How long does she intend to make me wait?'

He twisted restlessly in his seat, drumming his fingers on the carved armrest. The persistent suspicion that he was being observed caused his skin to prickle down the length of his arms. Glancing around, he glared into darkened corners and at heavy drapes, mentally willing any potential foe to make their presence known now and be done with it.

But all about him remained still. Time seemed to pass at a most sluggish pace; Heero grit his teeth. He picked petulantly at the remains of the platter, wishing he could simply make his escape. But he wouldn’t be surprised if the Captain had left the doors guarded.

'Why does being here bother me so much anyway? It is, after all, only sex…'

He grimaced, unable to even think of the idea of touching the Lady Dorothy… Or of her touching him. Was it simply that? Or was it the idea of being used purely for her fulfilment that chaffed his pride? Was it that Rele-- that his Lady was so disinterested in him that she could so easily give him away? Or was it because…

Was it because he only wanted to be with her?

Heero pressed the heels of his palms hard against his temples, wishing he could physically grind those unthinkable desires from his mind. To drive out the persistent need to see her, to be near her… To touch her. But the craving was buried deep in his subconscious now, revealing itself at inappropriate and unwanted moments.

Like now.

The heavy chair almost toppled over backwards as Heero sprang to his feet; the need to pace away his irritation becoming too much for him. To him, these lavish sleeping quarters more resembled a cage than the small cell he had convalesced in when he had first arrived at the Palace.

 His first circuit of the room was quick, no more than a perfunctory once-over. The second lap was slower, as he inspected for possible means of escape. It was on the third that he found the unobtrusive wad of inscribed parchment.

He rifled through it, excusing the action as a method to pass the time; although in truth, he bore a mild curiosity as to what the woman read to pass the time when not engaged in meaningless gossip.

'I am surprised she has the time to read at all.'

Not sure exactly what to expect, Heero still found himself surprised by the words that flowed across the pages. Poetry. And not flowery words of romantic love, but a tale of Gods and great exploits. Soon, he found himself drawn in to the tale of a cunning Greek warrior, and his plan to fool the Cyclops that held him and his men captive.

‘Cyclop! If any ask thee, who impos’d

Th’ unsightly blemish that thine eye enclos’d,

Say that Ulysses, old Laertes’ son,

Whose seat is Ithaca, and who hath won

Surname of city-raser, bored it out.’

The storyteller’s words were addictive, and Heero found himself so distracted by the saga that he all but lost track of the passing minutes.

“Are you acquainted with the Legends of Ulysses, Heero?”

His fingers tightened; the parchment crumpling in his clenching fists. Could his own ears be mocking him? ‘That is not…’ Twisting sharply, Heero turned towards the voice, and steeled himself for disappointment.

But he was not mistaken.

“Relena...” He all but breathed her name. A moment passed, and then a second one expired in the silence. Heero collected himself enough to glance behind her and find that they were alone. Where was Dorothy? Confused, he could only stand speechless and bewildered, the forgotten pages slipping from his fingers.

She appeared to mirror his confusion, perhaps thrown off balance by his reaction to her. The sweet smile that had accompanied her words was now frozen on her lips and she blinked rapidly.

But the rustle of the papers as they settled on the floor helped her to regain direction and Relena moved briskly to gather them up, crouching at Heero’s feet while he watched in wonder.

She straightened quickly, standing so close… and yet not close enough. The poetry was now clutched in her crossed arms, pressed to her breast in an almost defensive pose. Again, Heero tore his gaze away from her and stared at the heavy doors through which she had entered. Why is she here? Has she come to explain why I’m here? To excuse herself, perhaps? To announce her guest?

Heero felt anger bubble and froth like a wound in his chest, but her gentle smile cured the poison before it could infect the rest of his body. And then he could only gaze at her, captivated by the soft waves of hair that cascaded over her shoulders, her skin almost golden against the bright white of her robes.

Relena fidgeted; the faintest tinge of blush spreading across porcelain cheeks. She did not shrink away from his gaze, however; instead she lowered her flimsy shield of papers and directed her previous question to him again.

“Have you heard the stories of Ulysses and his great Odyssey before?”

Giving only the briefest shake of his head in reply, Heero gestured towards the manuscript. “These… belong to you?”

His query was low and gruff, but he was sure he failed at any attempt to conceal his perplexity. If they were hers… why were they in here…?

“Why yes of course. They are mine,” Her reply was puzzled, but her smile genuine, “These are my chambers, why else would they be here?”

Heero felt his mouth go dry, her words ringing in his ears. ‘What is going on?’

“Your… Chambers.”

“Well, not physically mine. But they are the chambers Caesar provides for me…” Relena was looking at him, her smile still in place, but no longer as wide. Her brow crinkled.

He spun away and glanced at his surroundings again. And was struck dumb at how obvious… These are no mere guest lodgings. He berated his stupidity under his breath.

“Heero…” There was a trace of steeliness in her voice, and when he turned back to her, he could see her stricken expression. “Heero… Whose chambers did you think they were?”

He swallowed against a burning sensation in his throat.

“Wh-who did you think…” Her chest rose and fell and all the liveliness drained from her complexion. “Who did you think… you were waiting for?”

There was no need to answer her. She had already reached the correct conclusion, and he could see that clearly. It was as though all the air had been squeezed from her, and he watched with some discomfort as Relena moved across the room and sank onto one of the seats he had earlier vacated.

“I’m sorry that you overheard us that day, Heero. But, it wasn’t what you think.” Her eyes flit up from the floor, and then back down again. “Please understand, that I would never ask such a thing of you…” One hand came up to her throat. “I couldn’t…”

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading him to believe her…

He frowned and glanced away

“Do you think so little of me?” She gave her head a minute shake, “Well, why shouldn’t you…But I wouldn’t… wouldn’t treat you with such little respect… please know that…”

He closed his eyes against the desire to comfort her that swelled in his chest. Yet before he knew it, his feet had carried him across the room until he was rested awkwardly in the seat beside her.

“Then why didn’t you…”

“Why didn’t I just tell her no?” Relena sighed, turning her face away from him, “Because I didn’t want her to know… To suspect…”

She seemed unable to meet his gaze now; she moved uneasily in her seat and her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap as if they had a will of their own. Heero watched her solemnly. His fingers itched to brush away the loose tendril of blonde hair that blocked his view of her face, his senses thirsting for the remembered texture of her perfect skin.

“Why…” Relena’s voice was whisper soft, so thick with insecurity that she stopped herself. She straightened her posture. “That night… when we talked… why… Why did you kiss me?”

It was to Heero’s advantage that she did not look at him as she spoke. He was certain his surprise was written all over his face. It took him a moment to school his features. He remained silent for a minute.

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

She looked at him then, her eyes flashing with surprise and… disappointment? She seemed to wilt before him, the profile of her downcast head reminding him suddenly of the pale flower that he had crushed so carelessly beneath his foot. Why did he seem destined to crush her in the very same way? It was only then that it occurred to him. Could it have meant… Did that kiss mean something to her?

Was that why he was really here?

He watched in dazed silence as she rose quickly to her feet, unable to ignore the gentle sway of her hips as she moved across the room to gaze out at the balcony. She appeared unbalanced, perhaps discomforted now that he had answered her question. Her hands were clasped to her breast, and Heero was sure he had seen her shiver. It was only slight, but he had seen it.

Another moment passed by when a slight breeze stirred through the room. It picked up the threads of her robes. Standing as she was, a bracket of flickering candles behind her, the light outlined the smooth curves of her body beneath the paper thin fabric of her robes. Her hair was loose, unadorned, while her throat and limbs were free of trinkets. His heart lurched in his chest.

“Of course,” she murmured, her back still turned from him, “Of course… I feel so foolish…”

Heero picked himself up and moved quickly to stand behind her. The Lady started at the touch of his hand on her elbow.

“Why did you let me kiss you?”

Relena turned to him, placing no more distance between them as she curved her face up to his. She was so close; all he needed do was drop his mouth closer to taste those inviting lips again. But he restrained himself, his need to hear her answer relentless. His hands, however, had their own agenda it seemed, settling around her waist as though they had a will of their own. She did not shrink away, something Heero noted with some hope.

“Because…” She breathed, “I wanted you to. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

She moved closer, melting against him, her head angled to make her lips even more appealing than before. It was all too much…

“I am just a slave, My Lady… You should offer yourself to one more worthy.”

Relena tilted her head at him, as if watching him. She threaded her fingers with his and lifted his hand to rest above his heart. She let it lay there a moment, before mirroring the movement until her hand pressed his above her own heart. She smiled gently.

“We are in my chambers, Heero. There is no stature or hierarchy here. We are equal. And the only rules we must follow are the ones from our own hearts. I know what mine wants, no, demands. Listen… What does yours wish?”

He swallowed deeply, knowing without having to check with any other part of his heart or mind - exactly what he wanted. She gazed up at him, the blue depths of her eyes betraying her nervousness, and he knew then what she offered.

He bristled in her embrace. ‘I cannot allow myself to surrender to this… desire.’

He opened his mouth to tell her this, but the look on her face stopped the flow of words from his throat. ‘Is this some sort of a test? Maybe someone put her up to this?’

Clenching his jaw, Heero wished for the will to step away. To make his excuses and flee the room. ‘No matter how much I want…’

But he knew it was an artificial wish. For more than his heart entreated him to stay.

She deserves someone worthy… Worthier than me…

The tiny voice of reason was quickly failing beneath the combined strength of his desire, heart… and soul.

‘But I… Am only a man.

And she…is here…right now…

With me.’

Pulling her closer, the pure heat of his lips against hers was enough to banish what little doubt remained. His fingers buried themselves in the thick strands of her hair, relishing the soft pleasure of her body pressing against his. She sighed softly, the exhalation satisfied and yet shaken, reminding him of her innocence. Breaking their embrace, Heero stared down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and plump lips. Relena returned his gaze through darkened lashes.

‘I want…’

“Relena… What do you want from me?”

‘This. If she says…she wants this…

I know I can't deny her.’

“You, Heero,” she whispered. But her answer sounded so frank, so certain.

“Just you.”

******