Ryuu no Hikou, 6/?
Posted: Wed Mar 26, 2003 9:33 pm
I've been remiss in responding to the people who have left me feedback...partly because I'm a lazy bum, and partly because RL has been ridiculously hectic for me lately. >.< So, to everyone who has offered feedback... *massive glompage* I love you all! ^____^
Now, without further ado... ^^
~
Chapter 6
The revelation that one of the dragon-rider's sisters had played a role in the assassination attempt against the Watcher rocketed through the castle and shook its inhabitants to the core. However, not even that was enough to dampen the spirit in the castle for long. There was a ball barely a fortnight away, and preparations to complete.
The other dragon-riders had decided right away that the best approach to dealing with their comrade's predicament was to give him as much space as he needed until he felt the need to come to them to discuss the issue. However, it seemed as though they did not have to worry about giving him space; Wufei became increasingly difficult to locate, investing a great deal of energy in staying well away from most of the castle's human inhabitants. He would reappear for meals, which he ate in stony silence before once again vanishing into the depths of the castle.
But while the dragon-riders were content to let Wufei slip into silence, there were others who were not satisfied with his suddenly taciturn nature. No one seemed quite sure of what to do about the situation, but one thing was certain: the scholars, the councilors, and several others all had plenty to ask. Wufei himself refused to answer questions about his sister, his family, or his estate; he became increasingly reclusive and was often spotted exploring deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle, finding rooms and stores of items long thought lost to the sands of time, covered in dust and the heavy silence that long-dormant rooms seem to generate.
The only time that anyone really saw Wufei any more was at mealtimes. The youth would drift into the dining hall, silent as a spectre, would eat without uttering a word to anyone else in the room, and leave as quietly as he came as soon as he was finished eating.
It was after one such meal that Quatre finally decided that enough was enough, and attempted to speak to him. The room was mostly deserted, being inhabited by only the dragon-riders and a few scattered castle servants, who were too busy clearing the tables and tidying the room to notice.
Wufei was staring at his plate, having paused in his eating to ruminate over some silent thought, his eyes fixed resolutely on the sturdy tabletop. Quatre eyed the young man quietly for a moment, before speaking up.
"Wufei, don't you think that this silence is unhealthy? I don't see why you feel the need to make a hermit of yourself, just based on the suspicions of something that might or might not have happened."
For a moment, no one spoke. Wufei continued to stare at his plate. Quatre watched him, hope lighting up his eyes. Duo stared unabashed at the two, his fork hovering over his meal. Heero pretended not to notice, and Trowa was concentrating keenly on the interchange while giving the impression of detatched interest.
Encouraged by the fact that the other youth had not rebelled, Quatre continued. "Think about it. No one is blaming you, or your duchy, for anything. Your honor is still intact. There is no real evidence to support the belief that your sister could have--"
Wufei slammed his hands on the table and stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. The reaction startled Quatre, his jaws shutting abruptly with an audible snap of teeth, and he suddenly gained the impression of being stared down, although Wufei's eyes never left the tabletop.
"You do not understand," Wufei said coldly, "and you should not poke your nose into situations that are not fully within your expertise." He whirled and stalked out of the room silently, his posture radiating his anger.
Silence stretched like molten glass before shattering with the help of a gusty sigh from Duo. "Well...suppose that's been building for a while," he muttered, standing up. "Sorry man," he said unsympathetically to Quatre, "but what did you have to do that for?"
Quatre was staring straight forward, his expression stricken. "I...I..."
Duo shrugged. "Eh, if it wasn't you, it would've been someone else. Don't sweat it. That guy is too uptight for his own good, anyway. Someone ought to tell him to change the stick one of these days." He chuckled at his own joke and strolled out of the room. Heero followed suit silently, his mind apparently on other agendas.
Quatre felt his face flushing with anger and chagrin, and barely noticed that the other two had left the room. It wasn't until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder that he started and turned slightly to notice Trowa. The other youth's face was expressionless, but there was a kind sympathy in his eyes.
"Come on," he said. "I'll walk with you back to your room." There was a sort of unspoken promise there, as though he would be able to undo Quatre's blunder and make Wufei forget the foolish words he had blurted out without thinking. Quatre nodded silently and stood up, following Trowa from the dining hall.
They walked in silence for a while, but before long, Quatre found his voice, and words poured forth like water.
"I don't know what I was thinking...it just almost hurts to see him so quiet every day...he used to be sort of talkative, but now he doesn't say a word. I don't even think I knew what I was saying until it was too late. But am I wrong? Was I wrong to try and snap him out of this? How much longer is he going to act like this? What happens now? He can't hide in the bowels of the castle forever."
"No," agreed Trowa, "but should you be the one to determine when he is ready to come out?"
Quatre was silent, and his flush deepened. "No," he replied. "You're right. I was in the wrong. I should not have said anything."
"I don't know about that," commented Trowa. "Perhaps your words were hasty, but then again, perhaps they will be enough to snap him out of this funk he's been in. I know that I am as weary as you are of seeing him skulk around the castle like a shade."
"That's just it," Quatre sighed miserably. "I don't like seeing him like this. But what can we do? We can't just make him better. I was in the wrong; I should have left him be. But at the same time, how long are we supposed to just sit in silence and let him mope? Maybe it would have been better if Sally hadn't told him what she had learned about the poison in that dart."
"He had a right to know. You know that."
Quatre sighed. "Yes," he said contemplatively, "and I know that he would have been angry if he had discovered that we had hid information from him. But still...he's been this way ever since we went to Es'rilshan. It's just gotten worse lately. At this rate, he won't even be able to--"
"Master Quatre!"
The two dragon-riders turned at the sound of the new voice. Rasid strode purposefully down the hallway toward them, trailing a handful of Maguanacs behind him.
Quatre inclined his head, trying to hide his apprehension. "Is something wrong, Rasid?"
The older man glowered. "Indeed there is. What is this I hear about you rushing off to confront the king of a rival nation, without any blessing or permission from either the princess or her regent?" He glared at the youth with anger and disappointment; the brace of Maguanacs behind him mirroring his disapproval with glares of their own.
Quatre's first impulse was to fold under the formidable man's ire. But he did not. "I am sorry to have worried you," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "But it was a decision made by all the dragon-riders. Perhaps our decision was hasty, but it is in the past. We acted as a team, and decided to move forward instead of standing still."
Rasid, however, was not satisfied. His frown deepened. "Are you daft?! You could have gotten killed! Your father--"
"I am fine, Rasid," Quatre scowled, apologies dying on his tongue, replaced by irritation. "I do not need you to play nursemaid to me, simply because I am not under my father's watchful eye. We did what we needed to do as a group, whether or not it was the wisest thing for us to do. Father would have agreed, even if it was not the proper move."
"Your father would be furious to know that you risked your life on a hunch!" roared Rasid, waving a fist angrily to accentuate his point. "You rushed off without consulting me OR bringing along any of the Maguanac troops. We are here to watch over you, to make sure that nothing happens to you. We cannot do that if you sneak out from under our noses!"
Quatre colored angrily. He knew that Trowa was still present, standing silent and observing everything, and Quatre was embarrassed to receive such a dressing-down in front of him. "You speak to me as though I am incapable of independent thought, and must be protected as though I were made of glass," he replied acidly. "Father did not need to send you. Besides, even if I had decided to engage your counsel on the matter, I believe that you had taken the Maguanac corps on a hunt, and were not available for such activities."
Rasid fixed Quatre with a cool stare. "It gives me heart to see that you are growing into a strong young man, and that someday, you will make a fine duke for our nation. But your insolence at this moment is most disturbing. What would your father think--"
"I am not a child! I am a dragon-rider! I am not delicate, I am not fragile, and I am not having this discussion!" Quatre folded his arms across his chest. "I do appreciate your concern, Rasid, and I am sorry that I caused you worry. But you must understand that I can't always be expected to hide in the shadows of someone stronger, just because they don't believe I'm ready to fend for myself!" He took a deep breath, and stepped back. "If you will excuse me. I think I need some fresh air. Alone," he said, shooting a significant glance at Trowa to keep him from following before turning and stalking down the hallway, trailing anger and frustration like a nearly tangible banner behind him.
* * *
There was something about the hour before a celebration, thought Relena, that always made the celebration seem more exciting than they did at any point beforehand.
She stood in front of the tall cheval mirror in her quarters, running her hands idly over the skirt of her gown. The royal tailors had worked very hard to create it, and their handiwork showed in every stitch. The gown was made of fine, soft silk, and seemed to flow about her figure gracefully like water. It was colored in a soft shade of blue-violet, which accentuated the creaminess of her skin and made her eyes sparkle like gems.
Relena turned this way and that, picking up the skirts and giggling at the soft swish of fabric. Meryth had left the room for a moment to give Relena a bit of privacy before adding the finishing touches to her outfit; the maid had already been with her for most of the day, helping Relena to bathe and dress, and fixing her hair. Relena had to admit that Meryth's thoughtful gesture of a bit of space was very much welcomed. She felt as though she had been primping since dawn, and it was very near dusk now!
She had already eaten a light late afternoon meal of foods that she could eat without running the risk of ruining her clothing, though she had been almost too excited and nervous to eat. The time before the ball would go rapidly, but still it seemed to drag on. She was to meet with Weyridge in his quarters two hours before the welcoming ceremony, and then would wait the proper amount of time before being introduced to the assembled and take her place for the introductions of those guests who ranked lower than herself.
Relena spun in front of the mirror, allowing the skirts of her gown to rearrange themselves. She hummed to herself, and slipped into a daydream of the ball as she danced idly, her dancing slippers making soft scuffing noises on the stone floor. She imagined herself being lead onto the dance floor on the arm of her prince...his cold blue eyes growing warm at the sight of her...his voice complimenting her on her grace, her beauty, and that she moved like a butterfly when she danced, and that he had never seen anyone so graceful...only to be swept into his arms as the music swelled for a passionate kiss....
She quickly came back to herself at the sound of someone knocking quietly at her chamber door. Relena blushed and self-consciously ran her hands over her skirts, even though she knew there was no way anyone could have seen her. "Come in," she called.
The door opened, and a castle page entered the room, accompanied by Meryth. "Duke Weyridge has asked me to tell you that he wishes to speak with you before the ball, and asks that you meet with him in the antechamber in thirty minutes," the page reported, his face set in concentration as though trying to remember all that he had been entrusted to deliver.
"I shall be there shortly. Thank you." Relena inclined her head graciously, and the page bowed and exited the room.
Meryth immediately went to Relena's side, fussing over the princess and adding the final touches to her outfit. Relena waited patiently, though she realized that she really could have used a few more moments of privacy before Meryth's return, but there was no time to worry about that now. The maid added sprays of tiny lavendar flowers to Relena's hair, fixing them at strategic points where they would not interfere with either her circlet or her line of vision. Finally, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.
"Well...you are a vision, Your Highness, a vision! You'll definitely catch the eyes of many tonight, mark my words, and I daresay that you will--" She was interrupted by another knock at the door, this one louder and more insistent. Meryth clucked with displeasure, and crossed the room rapidly to open the door. It was the guard assigned to escort Relena to her meeting with her regent.
Relena almost wanted to turn back to Meryth and ask the older woman what she had meant by her words, but the guard shuffled his feet and hissed impatiently through his teeth when she tried to turn back to question the maid. Before she could protest, Relena was whisked out of her quarters and was on her way to meet with Weyridge. The countdown to the ball had begun.
* * *
Fikriyya found Wufei in the library.
The dragon flitted between rows upon rows of books, sneezing slightly from the dusty air that books generate, until she spotted her quarry. He sat hunched over an ancient, hulking wooden table, poring over an equally ancient tome. The library was as silent as a tomb, and one would never think that a celebration was taking place mere floors away from the room where the dragon-rider sat.
She stalked her prey like a plains-cat, darting between the aisles, yet always keeping him in sight, until she was very nearly on top of him. She carefully schooled herself, trying to hold back the giggles of mischief that threatened to bubble over and fill the room with sound. Fikriyya faded to invisibility, and cautiously flitted forward to capture her prey.
She did not land on the table, for she knew the click of her claws and the displacement of air and dust would betray her presence, so she carefully hovered in front of the dragon-rider, then snapped back into visibility with the loudest shriek her tiny body could muster.
Her patience was well-rewarded. The dragon-rider let out a roar of surprise, flinging himself backward and nearly upsetting his chair and spilling himself onto the floor. Fikriyya alighted upon the table and immediately collapsed in helpless laughter, allowing the giggles that she'd fought so hard to suppress to roll over her in waves of mirth.
Wufei righted himself, a fierce scowl gracing his features, and glared at his adversary. "What do YOU want?" he snapped.
Fikriyya sobered up enough to right herself and fix the human with a calculating eye. "Why you hide like a crabby-crab in its house shell while the rest of the castle celebrates? They look for you. You're not there. Makes people sad. Makes people suspicious."
The dragon-rider's eyebrows raised in suspicion for a moment, then his expression returned to its normal dark scowl. "I somehow doubt that," he grumbled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I was reading." He hunched over the book once more, pointedly ignoring the dragon.
But Fikriyya would not be so easily deterred. She waddled over to his book, and firmly sat her bottom down on the pages that he was trying to read.
This brought forth a noise of angry disgust from the youth. "What are you DOING?!" he snapped, trying to push her away. "Have you no sense?! I was reading that!"
"Have YOU no social skills?" countered the dragon. "I ASKED you a question." She mimicked his terse tone perfectly, and her high-pitched voice grated on Wufei's nerves.
It was too much for the boy. His dragon's injuries, the assassination attempt, the discovery of his sister's involvement in the plot against the Watcher had all taken a heavy toll upon his patience. The faerie dragon's teasing caused something inside him to snap. Wufei had finally been tormented enough.
Faster than the faerie dragon could react, his hands lashed out and he grabbed the tiny dragon firmly in his grip. He drew his face close to that of his winged tormentor, his lip curled in a snarl. "Now we shall see which one of us has the upper hand." He began to squeeze, intent on crushing the dragon.
But Fikriyya was not one to go down without a fight. She glared at him balefully, and nipped his knuckle fiercely. When Wufei shouted with pain and loosened his grip slightly, she drew in as large a breath as she could and exhaled forcefully, her breath a glittering, misty cloud, right in her captor's face.
Wufei involuntarily breathed in a great deal of the cloud. He coughed explosively, enraged. "Why you--!" But then he drew up short. His eyes, which had been fierce as those of an eagle, softened and seemed to go unfocused, and his tightly-clenched hands relaxed, allowing the faerie dragon to slip free. The dragon-rider's normally tightly-controlled face grew slack, and he gazed about himself with a bemused, relaxed look. "Where am I?"
Fikriyya giggled gleefully and darted off. She knew of one who would not want to miss this opportunity.
* * *
Though Relena was still quite young,she had had plenty of opportunity in her life to experience the pomp of formal ceremonies. Still, she could not help but fidget during the introductions, as she waited for herself to be introduced. Weyridge stood next to her, resplendent in his own robes that denoted his role as her regent.
He noticed her watching him, and smiled at her. "Are you nervous, Your Grace?"
Relena smiled back. "I am not, Weyridge," she said calmly, then scowled petulantly. "But you know that I do not like this wait, however."
Weyridge laughed at this. "Waiting isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, I find it very much relaxing, especially if the event that I am awaiting shall be a busy one."
"You sound as though you know something that I do not," Relena responded, a note of suspicion in her voice. In response, Weyridge only smiled enigmatically, which caused Relena to fold her arms across her chest and scowl crossly.
But before she could question him further, a fanfare of horns jarred her back to the task at hand. She took her position next to Weyridge and placed her gloved hand on his outstretched elbow. Her ladies-in-waiting filed into place behind Relena and her regent, including Hilde, who was dressed in a gown of crimson with skirts which flared dramatically out from her tiny waist, accentuating her features and making her seem more petite and delicate, if that were possible. The raven-haired girl smiled at Relena impishly before fluffing the skirts of her dress self-consciously and tugging at one elbow-length glove.
The doors opened inward and the small party swept into the ballroom. The room was lit softly by several candle-filled chandeliers, which flickered gently from their heights. The room was filled with people, some Relena knew, others whom she did not recognize. She spotted Weyridge's wife, Tassie, who had been welcoming guests and filling the role of hostess while her husband waited to escort Relena into the ballroom. Tassie smiled warmly and applauded along with the rest of those gathered.
Weyridge lead Relena to the dais at the opposite end of the room, where a pair of throne-like chairs had been arranged for the princess and her regent, with several seats arranged slightly lower to accommodate her attendants.
When they reached the dais, the group turned as one to acknowledge their guests.
"We welcome you all to Calon Gaer, and thank you for joining us to celebrate. For not only is this a time to celebrate the trust of continued peace between the nations of Sanq and Es'rilshan--" he turned to acknowledge Lady Dorothy, who was seated near the dais in a place of honor, "--but we must also celebrate the arrival of the dragon-riders." He turned to face the other side of the room, where the five dragon-riders and the entire contingent of Maguanacs stood assembled. The applause reached a new crescendo. "May the presence of these honored guests lead our lands to greater peace and prosperity!"
Weyridge waited for the applause to die down before he continued. "I also have gathered some very special guests here tonight, in addition to all of you who have joined us for this celebration and our honored guests. For the time has come for our princess to choose a consort."
Relena had been trained far too well to react visibly to this announcement, but inwardly, shock plummeted like a hot stone dropped into her belly. What had Weyridge just said?
"I have assembled some of you here tonight so that you could meet the Princess," Weyridge continued. "I am certain that Her Highness is looking forward to meeting you all, as well."
Relena felt the sudden urge to turn and run from the ballroom. Instead, she smiled cordially and tried to look appropriately interested in this unexpected turn of events. She tried to steal a glance at Heero. The dragon-rider's face was an impassive mask. Relena's heart sank. Was he angry by this--or, worse--disinterested?
But she realized that the room was applauding once more, so she quickly turned her attention back to the congregation and smiled, showing the appropriate level of interest. The musicians struck into song, and Weyridge took her hand to lead her onto the floor for the first dance, since there were none higher than himself who needed appropriate flattering, and the suitors (whose numbers Relena did not know) were all in equal standing.
Relena hoped that the dance would last forever, and indeed, as it was a slow, stately dance, it very nearly did. But unfortunately, soon she was facing her partner for the final bow-and-curtsey, and the guests were all applauding politely. Weyridge smiled and lead her back up to her seat on the dais, and she seated herself for a moment as the musicians began playing again. As soon as she was seated, Weyridge excused himself, and Relena was left alone.
She watched the milling heads and myriad colors for a few heartbeats, wishing she could freeze the image in her mind of the people, smiling and happy, content and confident in the fact that they would always remain safe within Sanq's borders. For the briefest of moments, she lost herself in her thoughts. Right now, so much was going well: the dragon-riders had been summoned, and all had answered the call, and it seemed as though Sanq and Es'rilshan were finally moving toward peace. The Oracle had spoken, but so far, no doom had befallen Sanq. Father would be so proud of her, were he alive....
She drew a breath, calling all of her reserve strength to the surface. She could not cry at a time like this! She needed to keep her sense of self about her! Surely her father could see her now, even beyond life, and was proud of her, even though he was not there to share in her successes with her!
But before she could dwell on her thoughts any longer, the dancers parted like waves to allow Weyridge to reappear at the dais, bringing with him a young man who looked to be the same age as Relena herself. He was dressed rather foppishly, and Relena noted with distaste that his hair was coiffed in the heavily-powdered style that the Southern duchys seemed to favor.
"Your Grace, this is Prince Fillippe of Imahllia Virena," he said, his voice carrying a great deal more enthusiasm than Relena felt. She tried to assume her most sincere smile as the prince bowed low and took her hand to kiss it. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance," he said sibilantly.
Too bad I don't feel the same way, Relena thought inwardly, but outwardly, she maintained her air of calm interest as Fillippe lead her onto the floor for a dance.
Dancing with Prince Fillippe wasn't the worst thing Relena had ever done, by far, but she couldn't help but be distracted. The next dance, she swore inwardly, the next dance will be with Heero!
But as soon as the dance had ended and the prince had reluctantly stepped away, Relena was accosted by another prince. And another, and another, and yet more. It seemed that every time she had a moment to herself, another suitor would make his presence known.
Relena found herself helplessly swept into dance after dance with young men whom she had no desire to meet or know. Would she never get to dance with the one prince who did not seem to be determined to win her hand?
* * *
Quatre had paused for a moment from dancing to refresh himself. He had gathered a drink of something refreshingly cool and sweet-tasting, and had seated himself in the room adjoining the ballroom, which had been filled with long tables and low benches, and a buffet table groaning under the weight of an immense amount of food.
He hadn't been seated there for very long before he was joined by Trowa, who had had similar ideas and was carrying a small plate of food. Trowa folded his legs beneath his seat gracefully and concentrated on his plate for a few moments. When he finally spoke, he pretended to be quite interested in the contents of his plate.
"The ball seems to be going well. Her Highness and her regent must be pleased."
"It certainly seems that way. The Maguanacs are having the times of their lives. Fine with me; it keeps them out of my hair."
Trowa laughed lightly. "I saw Duo disappear with one of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting about ten minutes ago. Heero has been skulking along the edges of the room all night, and I haven't seen Wufei since the midday meal."
Quatre nodded absently. "Are you enjoying yourself, Trowa?"
This finally caused the other youth to raise his head. "I suppose," he said contemplatively. "We had gatherings quite often in Alyhandriss, but they were never so large. Mother and Father love to entertain, but they prefer that their audiences are small. I suppose it is part of being a bard. It's much easier to entertain when your audience isn't so large that their talking drowns out your art."
This drew a wry smile from Quatre. "My father dislikes ceremony, but he entertains constantly. For my sisters, mainly. And his wives. The women of my family are like a flock of butterflies, always flitting here and there. Father never passes up a chance to show them off. He's quite proud of his family."
He rested his chin on one hand idly. "For me...I was always being paraded around as Father's crown jewel, his only son in a flock of daughters. He was always so proud of me, but not because of anything that I had accomplished. He was more interested in my potential, my future, than anything I have ever done."
"It is difficult to enjoy the political game when one must be a pawn," said Trowa quietly.
Quatre looked up at the other boy sheepishly. "I...owe you an apology for the other day. I acted childishly, and lashed out at you wrongly. For that I apologize."
Trowa smiled faintly. "I cannot say that I did not understand why you acted in such a fashion," he said. "Your apology is accepted."
A wave of relief passed over Quatre's face, as if he had been brooding on the matter for quite some time. He leaned back against the table slightly, gazing back into the ballroom. "I never did like balls, for that reason," he admitted, sipping from the glass he held. "Even though my father is not here to parade me around, I still wish I were anywhere but here. I wonder why."
Trowa gave Quatre a regarding look. "Perhaps because you have been investing an inordinate amount of energy into trying to avoid the Es'rilshanian emissary?"
This caused Quatre to flush deeply. "What makes you think that I have been trying to avoid her?"
"The fact that whenever she turns your way, you carefully make your way to the other side of the room, for starters."
"I can't help it," Quatre groused unhappily. "She makes me nervous."
"For what reason?"
"I don't know," Quatre admitted. "She's certainly not given me much reason to do so. But there's just something about her that makes me nervous."
"Sometimes the mind tells you things that may go against logic," said Trowa thoughtfully. "Other times it may be warning you of something that should not arouse concern."
Quatre looked at Trowa out of the corner of one eye. "Do you think I'm overreacting?"
"It's difficult to say," Trowa murmured thoughtfully. "I believe that it is still too soon to tell."
"I can't tell either," said Quatre quietly.
"Worrying about what might happen is often more damaging than actually enduring the event," noted Trowa. "Perhaps the emissary represents a threat. Perhaps she does not. But I believe that it is in our best interests to observe and not hypothesize. I do know that too much skepticism could be damaging."
Quatre nodded silently, saying nothing, lost in his own thoughts. "It's just that..."
Trowa regarded him calmly from behind his fringe of bangs, then shifted his gaze to the ballroom. "Such a discussion should not be held here," he said contemplatively. "I daresay that we should not be missed. The Princess has more than enough guests to entertain." He stood up and offered his hand to Quatre. Quatre smiled and took Trowa's offered hand gratefully, standing up in one fluid movement and following him from the room.
* * *
Though Sally had been invited to the ball, she had declined to attend. She was not a great fan of the silliness of such ceremonies; and besides, there was research that needed to be done, instruments that needed cleaning, and reports to write up on her discoveries.
There was also the mystery of the night-bell poison, and what it might mean for the kingdom, not to mention the duchy from which it originated.
Sally sighed and ran a hand over her forehead as she pored over yet another text documenting the illicit use of the flower from a year long since forgotten in the sands of time. So far, she had found many instances of night-bell poisoning, and plenty of evidence why the flower was illegal to grow, but she had found nothing that could concretely be connected with those poisonings and the assassin's attack on the castle.
"It's so strange," she murmured to herself, tickling the underside of her chin with her writing quill, "so strange indeed. The tunic bearing Es'rilshan's crest...the flower coming from a duchy within Sanq's borders...it is almost as though someone were deliberately trying to throw us off the proper trail and trying to get us to attack our own flank...."
A sprinkling of delicate giggles drifted down the hallway and through the open door to Sally's laboratory, heralding the arrival of her dragon companion, and the young scholar smiled. She had wondered where Fikriyya had gone. Sally stood up to welcome her companion. But when she saw who walked through the door, accompanied by the faerie dragon, the smile left Sally's face abruptly.
It was Wufei...yet something was not right. The normally surly dragon-rider had a vacant, calm expression on his face, and gazed about him bemusedly. He smiled broadly when he saw Sally, and strode across the room until he was directly in front of her before dropping into a deep bow, scooping up her hand and kissing the back of it with the air of someone set to seduce.
Fikriyya was giggling helplessly, turning somersaults in the air. Sally looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"What did you do to him?"
The faerie dragon flitted to her shoulder, and butted her head against Sally's cheek. "I brought him to you!" she purred. "Is a present for you. You like?"
Sally sighed. "Fikriyya, did you breathe on Wufei?"
Fikriyya scowled, and hunched up on her shoulder like a recalcitrant child caught in the act of doing something wrong. "Was his own fault," she grumbled. "He tried to crush me. Had to defend myself. Was the best way to do it."
"Oh, Fikriyya," Sally said, shaking her head. "You really must learn to not use your breath weapon unless it is an emergency." She glanced at Wufei again. The dragon-rider was examining a steel candelabra standing in the corner of the lab as though it were the first time he had seen such a thing. "What am I going to do with him until the effects wear off? I certainly can't let him wander about the castle--he could injure himself, in his state."
"I can think of something that you can do with him," the faerie dragon purred sibilantly in one ear. "He is...so much easier to control, in this state, don't you think? I am sure that a wise woman such as yourself can think of many things to do with such a willing partner." Sally shivered slightly at her words. It was easy to forget that Fikriyya was a fully-grown adult of her kind, and had the same drives and urges as other adults, even though her mannerisms and words often made her seem childlike.
Sally shook off the suggestion. "You know I couldn't do that, Fikriyya," she scolded slightly. "Humans have...problems with such casual liasions."
At this, Fikriyya snorted. "Suit yourself," she said, and flew up to one of the high window alcoves to sulk. Sally just laughed.
"Just because I won't use him for pleasure doesn't mean I won't use his relaxed cooperation for other means!" she said, chuckling lightly. Fikriyya stuck her head out of the alcove curiously, wondering what was afoot. Sally regarded several stacks of parchment that needed filing, glassware that needed washing...and the floor could use a good sweeping. She turned to face Wufei, who smiled back at her cheerfully.
"After all, it's been a long time since I've had such a...willing assistant at my disposal."
* * *
Duo led Hilde carefully down into the catacomb caves, going slowly to make sure she didn't trip or stumble. When they reached his room, he opened the door carefully, so as not to disturb anyone or notify them to his presence, and held it open for her, then entered the room himself.
The room was dark, since Faohr had already been dozing for a few hours, but the dragon was instantly alert at the sound of entry. He rumbled low in his throat in greeting. To Duo, the sound was instantly soothing. It was a sound of welcome that he had grown to know with great familiarity since his childhood. But to Hilde, who had never spent much time in the company of dragons, the sound was terrifying. She immediately froze in place.
Duo put his hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Hilde wouldn't move. "That...that sounded like a warning sound," she said hesitantly.
"From Deathscythe? Naaaah, he was only saying hi. C'mon, I'll introduce you two!" He took Hilde by the hand, and carefully guided her to the ledge nest where Faohr lay, his sinuous body curled like a cat. Ashkita, Hilde's cat, was nestled between the great dragon's shoulderblades, as though it were the perfect resting spot for a kitten, and Hilde pursed her lips in momentary annoyance. She had wondered where that cat had gone.
The dragon's head was raised, and he regarded Hilde with bright, intelligent eyes. In the moonlight, his normally blinding scales took on a luminescent glow that was actually quite beautiful.
"Hey, ol' buddy," Duo said softly. Faohr mewled in the back of his throat, a soft sound that Hilde didn't think dragons were capable of making. "I want you to meet my...friend, Hilde. Say hi, Hilde." He nudged her forward gently.
"Hello," said Hilde timidly. Faohr's long neck stretched out, and he sniffed at the girl curiously. Hilde felt his warm breath puffing at her skin, and tried desperately to not be nervous. Suddenly Faohr gave a small cry, and butted his head against her chest, nearly knocking the slight girl over.
"Hey!" she said, half giggling, half in fear. "What are you doing?!"
"He wants a scratch," said Duo, his voice filled with laughter. "Under his chin, that's his favorite spot. Go ahead, he won't bite you."
Hilde hesitantly reached her hand under the dragon's enormous jaw. His skin was surprisingly soft and supple, and quite warm to the touch. She found what she thought was the right spot, and scratched gently.
The reaction was instant. Faohr groaned with pleasure, and tilted his head, butting harder against her chest. She did giggle this time. "Hey, stop it, you! You're going to make me fall over!" She scratched a little harder, and Faohr all but rolled on his back, jaws agape in pleasure, holding his head as still as he could so as not to stop the wonderful sensation. Ashkita let out a squeak of protest and jumped down from her resting spot, looking thoroughly disgruntled at being disturbed. The dragon took no notice.
"Looks like you made a new friend," said Duo proudly. "I'll warn ya, though, he's a bit of an attention hog, when it comes to his scratches."
Hilde giggled again, most of her fear evaporating. She became bold enough to run one finger along the bridge of the dragon's snout, feeling the firm, pebbled surface of his skin. Faohr opened his eyes, which were a bright, startling shade of green, and regarded first her, then Duo. Then he did something which caused Hilde to nearly stumble backward in shock.
"IreallyreallylikethisoneDuoshe'snotscaredofmeandsheknowsjustwheretoscratchcanwekeepherhuhhuhhuhcanwecanwe???" The dragon gazed at Duo with an imploring, pleading look.
Duo tried to maintain his aplomb and not be embarrassed by the dragon's request, but his words had not really impacted in Hilde's mind. She stared at the dragon incredulously. "You can talk!"
Duo did laugh at this. "Course he can talk. All dragons can talk. Most just choose not to. They're kind of snobbish, you know." He walked over to Faohr and scratched him just behind his horns. The dragon snorted and shook his head. "This one just likes to talk to anyone who will listen." Suddenly, he looked up, his expression excited. "Hey, do you want to go for a ride? Deathscythe here won't mind."
"A ride?! Me??" Suddenly, the dragon didn't seem all that benevolent. "Are you sure..."
"Sure I'm sure! Dragons are strong. He won't even notice the extra weight. Besides, the weather is just perfect for a midnight ride. I might even have a spare pair of riding breeches in here somewhere..." He wandered off, rooting through trunks and dressers. "Ah ha!" he said, holding up a pair of well-worn breeches. "I know they're a little old, but they don't really fit me any more. Don't know why they got packed, to be honest." He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "I...didn't pack my own trunk."
Hilde walked past him, tugging the breeches from his grasp. "I'm sure they'll be fine," she said, a smirk on her face. She pulled a tunic from a different trunk, and disappeared behind the changing screen. A few minutes later she reappeared, and Duo had to use every ounce of his self-control to keep his jaw from falling open. Even dressed in his old cast-offs, the petite girl was unbelievably beautiful, in his eyes.
He regained his composure quickly. "Ahh...okay. You'll probably want to sit in front of me, since there isn't a saddle or reins or anything. I'll hold on to you, to keep you from falling off."
Hilde regarded him curiously. "Who's going to hang on to you?"
Duo gave her a lopsided smile. "Oh, I've ridden this old guy hundreds of times. I don't need to hang on any more."
Hilde smiled. "Confident, aren't we?" She turned to face Faohr's nest. The dragon was beginning to uncoil itself and prepare for flight. Faohr shook out his wings experimentally, and suddenly Hilde was reminded of just how large dragons were. But before she could back out, Duo was urging her gently forward. Faohr crouched down obediently, and Duo helped her slide into place just behind his shoulders, then hopped onto his back behind her.
Faohr stood up, and Hilde experienced a moment of vertigo as the ground sped away from her. Duo rested his hands on her waist cautiously, as if not wanting to press his luck, and she smiled to herself. The dragon walked toward the entrance of the cave, testing the wind and air currents, head held high.
Hilde then made the mistake of looking down.
She swallowed convulsively. "Duo. Are you sure this is a good ide--!" But her words were lost in a great whoosh of air, as Faohr launched himself skyward.
At first, all Hilde could do was hang on for dear life and try not to scream. But slowly, her fear ebbed away, and as she realized that she would not fall or be dropped, she relaxed somewhat and opened her eyes. When she did, she gasped in surprise.
The land below them, which had always seemed so normal when she was on the ground, looked impossibly tiny from the back of a dragon. She could see the bulk of the castle a short distance away, its sides glittering with pinpricks of light where windows opened up onto the night. Hilde fancied that she could hear faint wisps of music and laughter, though she was certain that she was imagining it. Below, slightly smaller but no less bright, were dots of light from the farms and homesteads outside the castle walls, seeming more like a child's playthings than actual buildings and homes.
Faohr sensed her relaxing, and grew more bold. He sped up as he skirted the edge of the river-cliff, his powerful wings propelling them forward, and the wind whipped Hilde's hair about her face. She felt Duo's hands on her waist tighten and his legs clamp more firmly around the sides of the dragon, and instinctively she followed suit as the dragon suddenly dipped below the cliff's edge, dropping into a steep dive before allowing an air current to catch him and send him soaring well past the edge of the cliff and higher than before. She did scream at this, but it was more from exhiliration than fear.
Now I know why so many people yearn to ride dragons, she thought to herself. I've never experienced anything like this!
The dragon now turned toward the forest on the other side of the castle opposite the river-cliff, and Hilde laughed as she watched the tops of the trees skim so close below them that she could make out individual leaf patterns. Occasionally a bird would burst from the treetops in panicked flight in the dragon's wake. As the moon broke free from the clouds, bathing the landscape in soft, feeble light, Hilde thought that she had never seen a land so beautiful as Sanq.
But before she could say anything, she suddenly felt the dragon tense. A low, loud grumble reverberated through his body, and he started circling over a certain spot. Duo, too, had tensed. He leaned forward slightly to speak to his dragon.
"What is it, 'Scythe? You see some--"
But he was interrupted by a loud, earsplitting roar of challenge, made all the louder for their proximity to the dragon's head. Hilde shrieked in surprised pain, clapping her hands over her ears to block out the sound.
Faohr dropped into a steeper dive than before, zeroing in on a small break in the forest. Hilde thought she could spot movement, but it could have been a trick of the night. One thing was certain, however; the dragon had seen something, and he was not going to let it slip past his notice.
He roared again, and this time, Hilde could make out words that made Duo's grip on her waist tense even more. When she realized what the dragon was saying, she paled.
"Intruders! Invadersintrudersintruders! Alarmawakeawake! Thereareinvadersintheforest!!"
* * *
Relena finally managed to break away from the flurry of suitors, feigning exhaustion and a headache, and gracefully excused herself under the premise that she was retiring for the night. She ducked down the nearest corridor, surreptitiously looking around her before leaning against the stone wall for a moment's rest.
"Gods, what a disaster," she sighed under her breath. Now she knew why she had never been brought before any suitors--Weyridge had been waiting for this moment to present them to her all at once! She caught herself and regained her regal posture, then glanced to and fro, and wondered how she would go about finding Heero.
She didn't actually know which room was his, and though she could go from door-to-door in the catacomb caves, seeking him out, she knew that doing so would gather unwanted attention. She had last seen him ducking down this hallway; perhaps he was still around here somewhere...
"It is not wise for the Princess to wander around without any guards, when there are so many foreign people about and the risk for danger is so much higher," a low voice sounded from a shadowed alcove.
Relena whipped around, gasping in a sharp intake of breath, trying to locate the source of the voice. She relaxed immensely when a familiar figure stepped out of the alcove.
"Heero! It's you!" she said, unable to hide the relief in her voice.
The young man's lips twitched slightly. "You were expecting someone else?"
Relena flushed. "I...no," she said, looking away. "But...well, you never know who might be hiding in these corridors."
"Indeed." He frowned, regarding her with a calculating eye. "Which makes me wonder why you are here in the first place. It is not safe."
Relena scowled. "No need to worry about me," she snapped, piqued. "I can take care of myself." She turned to leave, her reasons for being there forgotten in her ire.
Heero reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Wait." She turned, fixing him with a cold glare. "Let go of me, Heero Yuy of Kah'legeth," she hissed. Heero returned the stare with equal coolness. "Not until you tell me why you were wandering around the castle alone, without any guards or protection."
Relena scowled deeper. "If you MUST know..." she said, her voice trailing off. She looked at the floor. "I was looking for you."
It was the first time that Relena had ever seen Heero show any emotion other than cool composure, and she was fascinated. He actually looked startled. "You were looking for me?" She nodded. "Why?"
She inclined her head. "Because I did not get to have a dance with you, that's why."
Heero snorted derisively. "There were plenty of princes there for you to dance with. You did not need me."
The rebuff smarted, and Relena fought back her irritation at his bad manners. "And who says that I wanted to dance with all of them?" She smoothed her skirts and stood up straight. "I may be at the mercy of my regent with regard to who is chosen to woo me, but I do have some small say in the matter. If I wanted to dance with you, then I will do so."
"And if I did not want to dance with you?"
Relena flushed even more deeply than before. "You would not refuse the Princess of Sanq," she said, her voice laced with anger and shock.
"Perhaps." It seemed that the dragon-rider had regained his aplomb. "Perhaps not. Would you be willing to chance it, Princess?"
"Chance what?" she replied hotly. "If you value the status of your duchy, you would not refuse me one dance." In her ire, she had not realized how close the dragon-rider now stood. "I somehow doubt that your father would much appreciate his duchy falling out of favor with the throne of Sanq, just because one of his sons refused to--!" She broke off with a gasp as Heero grabbed both of her shoulders firmly and leaned forward until their noses were almost touching.
"Refused what?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flashed as he regarded the princess.
Relena's breath came in short gasps, and she swallowed convulsively. Her instincts screamed at her that she was in danger, that she should do whatever she could to escape, but for whatever reason, she could not move. She locked eyes with Heero, unwilling or unable to blink.
But before either of them could make another move, the castle suddenly erupted with sound and alarms. Relena gasped and took a step backward, looking around her in confusion. Heero dropped his hold on her shoulders and stepped back, as well.
"What--?" she tried to ask as she felt Heero steering her back toward the ballroom. "What's going on?"
"It is not safe here. You, get back to where there are guards. Do not argue with me." His eyes grew steely. "A word of advice, Princess. This may be your castle, but that does not mean it is safe. One such as yourself would do wise not to wander about the halls alone, lest trouble befall you. Now go." He gave her a not-so-gentle push back in the direction of the ballroom.
Relena whirled to rebuke him for his rude behavior, but when she turned to confront him, he was already gone. In the passageway behind her, the sound of heavy booted feet echoed through the corridor, and several guardsman came into view.
"Princess!" the leader of the group exclaimed in shock. "What are you doing here? It is not safe!"
Relena blushed, and tried quickly to think of an excuse. "I..." She shook her head. "What's going on?"
The guard who had spoken to her had quickly turned to his men and chosen two from the group. "You, and you. Make sure the Princess makes it back to her quarters safely, and do not leave her until you hear word from me." The guards nodded smartly, and moved to flank Relena.
"But...I don't understand...What's going on?"
The remaining guards had already begun to tramp down the hallway rapidly, but the leader of the group was still within earshot. He turned to face her once more, bowing apologetically.
"Your pardon, Your Grace," he said in excuse for his haste. "Invaders have been spotted. The castle is under attack!"
* * *
Noin had stayed for as long as decorum required, but was finally able to make her escape from the swirling vortex of multicolored silk and perfumes, and not a moment too soon, in her mind. For a moment, she felt guilty and a bit panicked at the idea of leaving the princess without a bodyguard, but Noin realized then that security was so heavy around the castle that there was no way an assassin could get through.
Besides, she thought bemusedly, the Princess has the dragon-riders to watch after her. For tonight, she does not need me.
The bright sounds of the celebration slowly grew more faint and muffled as Noin put as much distance as she could between herself and the festivities. It was not that she disliked such celebrations; indeed, she did enjoy them. But she had not been looking forward to this ball, not one bit.
She made her way up to one of the rooms where the messenger-hawks were released and brought in. There were several rooms like this one around the castle, but because it was so near the river-cliff, and the wind currents were unpredictable, the hawks didn't like using it, so it was nearly always deserted. Noin had discovered this quite some time ago, and had made it her special place to sit and think.
Tonight, as always, the wide stone windows opened like great maws into the silky darkness of late evening, and Noin could spot the faint twinkle of stars above and the pinpricks of torchlight below. The wind was strong at this level of the castle, and it tugged at her gown impatiently, setting the soft silk to rustle, as though to try and lure her back to the laughter and dancing below.
But Noin was in no mood to dance.
She walked over to a window that faced the direction of Es'rilshan, and leaned against it, her eyes cast far to the horizon. She had told no one, would never admit it, but the real reason why she had been dreading this celebration was because he wasn't there. Since no one would understand why she was pining over a man whom had been given over by popular thought as being dead to Sanq, she rarely spoke of him. But her heart would not be so easily silenced.
"Milliardo..." she said softly, her voice cracking as though thick with tears. It had been so long, so long since she had last seen him. She had tried to forget him; however, it seemed like the harder she tried, the stronger her longing grew. But it had been years. Surely he had forgotten about her, too.
Noin felt tears burning the edges of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly at first, as she had taught herself to do, momentarily forgetting that she was alone and did not have to hide her sorrow. Soon she gave up on posterity, and reached for her handkerchief to blot at her eyes. She gave in to an unladylike sniffle, but even that wasn't loud enough to cover up the unmistakeable sound of...dragon wings.
She looked up sharply, thinking that one of the dragon-riders had gone for a moonlight flight and had spotted her hiding place. Frantically, she searched through and discarded methods of escape, but when she finally looked up to see who had disturbed her hiding, she forgot all about hiding, and gasped with surprise.
"Milliardo!"
He was right there...his dragon carefully hovering beside the window. He jumped gracefully from the amethyst's back and onto the stone windowsill, and the dragon soared up to the flat rooftop to keep watch over the tower. Noin backed away as the young man stepped down from the window and straightened.
"You look surprised to see me...and..." he smirked softly, "very beautiful. I knew that I was right in choosing this night to see you."
Noin blushed, ducking her head, but then regained her senses and looked up at him, her eyes radiating anger and alarm. "Why did you come here? They'll kill you if they find you! Certainly you know that you are considered an enemy of Sanq!"
The man looked at her, his eyes distant behind the strange mask he wore. "An enemy..." he said absently. His eyes sharpened again. "So be it. I did not come here to see my former home." He stepped closer. "I came here...to see you."
She gazed up at him, slightly mystified. "Me..." She reached up hesitantly, then stopped. "That mask...it's..."
There was a slight curve of lips beneath the edge of the mask. "I'm in hiding now," he said sardonically, as though he knew that everyone still knew who he was. "I call myself Zechs Merquise, when I am in Es'rilshan, and I wear this mask to make people forget who I was."
"Zechs..." she said softly. "Of course. I remember that name." She smiled ruefully. "You used to call yourself that...when we were still very young." Her voice had a faraway note to it as she stepped back into her memories.
Zechs stepped closer to her again, so that they were almost touching. "Do you remember anything else about when we were young, Lucrezia?" Through the mask, his eyes were bright and intense.
Noin's breath caught in her throat as her heart leaped. "I do remember...we promised that we would always be together...that we would someday wed..." She looked away. "But that cannot happen now, can it?"
He took her chin in his hand and turned her head to face him gently. "Do you wish it to not happen?" he asked quietly. Noin shook her head, and was rewarded with that small smile again. "Good," he responded, and pulled the mask off, setting it on the windowsill. "Because I have no intentions of breaking that promise, if you will have me."
"Oh, Millardo," she said, her eyes brimming with tears as she stepped into his embrace.
He held her close for a moment, then pulled away slowly, gazing into her eyes earnestly. "No matter how long we are separated, no matter how far the distance, know that my heart always remains with you, Lucrezia," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.
He leaned forward, and Noin's heart hammered in her chest. She tilted her head up and closed her eyes....
But before their lips could meet, the peaceful night was shattered by the loud roar of a very angry dragon.
The couple jumped apart. Noin looked frantically about her, wondering how they could have been spotted so quickly. Zechs strode to the window and hoisted himself out. "Hrynne, what chances? Have we been spotted?"
Noin heard the amethyst rustling anxiously above her. "No," came the dragon's hushed response. "That roar was not for us. It came from the other side of the castle." She shifted nervously. "If there are other dragons about, then we must make our escape quickly. We must not be seen."
"I agree," replied Zechs ruefully, then turned to face Noin. "I am sorry that our meeting must be so brief..." he began, but she silenced him, gently laying a finger against his lips.
"I understand," she said softly. "If this is how it must be for now, then I shall not hold it against you. Now...go..." she said, pushing him gently toward the window. "I do not want you to die for trying to see me. Go, before it is too late."
He nodded, and moved to stand on the windowsill as his dragon launched herself skyward and moved into position for him to jump on his back. But before he could move, the castle suddenly seemed to erupt into alarms. The angry voices of the guards funnelled up the staircase to the room where Noin stood.
"Invaders! Invaders!! The castle is under attack!!"
~*~
TBC
C&C is always loved and appreciated! ^_^
--Sara
Now, without further ado... ^^
~
Chapter 6
The revelation that one of the dragon-rider's sisters had played a role in the assassination attempt against the Watcher rocketed through the castle and shook its inhabitants to the core. However, not even that was enough to dampen the spirit in the castle for long. There was a ball barely a fortnight away, and preparations to complete.
The other dragon-riders had decided right away that the best approach to dealing with their comrade's predicament was to give him as much space as he needed until he felt the need to come to them to discuss the issue. However, it seemed as though they did not have to worry about giving him space; Wufei became increasingly difficult to locate, investing a great deal of energy in staying well away from most of the castle's human inhabitants. He would reappear for meals, which he ate in stony silence before once again vanishing into the depths of the castle.
But while the dragon-riders were content to let Wufei slip into silence, there were others who were not satisfied with his suddenly taciturn nature. No one seemed quite sure of what to do about the situation, but one thing was certain: the scholars, the councilors, and several others all had plenty to ask. Wufei himself refused to answer questions about his sister, his family, or his estate; he became increasingly reclusive and was often spotted exploring deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle, finding rooms and stores of items long thought lost to the sands of time, covered in dust and the heavy silence that long-dormant rooms seem to generate.
The only time that anyone really saw Wufei any more was at mealtimes. The youth would drift into the dining hall, silent as a spectre, would eat without uttering a word to anyone else in the room, and leave as quietly as he came as soon as he was finished eating.
It was after one such meal that Quatre finally decided that enough was enough, and attempted to speak to him. The room was mostly deserted, being inhabited by only the dragon-riders and a few scattered castle servants, who were too busy clearing the tables and tidying the room to notice.
Wufei was staring at his plate, having paused in his eating to ruminate over some silent thought, his eyes fixed resolutely on the sturdy tabletop. Quatre eyed the young man quietly for a moment, before speaking up.
"Wufei, don't you think that this silence is unhealthy? I don't see why you feel the need to make a hermit of yourself, just based on the suspicions of something that might or might not have happened."
For a moment, no one spoke. Wufei continued to stare at his plate. Quatre watched him, hope lighting up his eyes. Duo stared unabashed at the two, his fork hovering over his meal. Heero pretended not to notice, and Trowa was concentrating keenly on the interchange while giving the impression of detatched interest.
Encouraged by the fact that the other youth had not rebelled, Quatre continued. "Think about it. No one is blaming you, or your duchy, for anything. Your honor is still intact. There is no real evidence to support the belief that your sister could have--"
Wufei slammed his hands on the table and stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. The reaction startled Quatre, his jaws shutting abruptly with an audible snap of teeth, and he suddenly gained the impression of being stared down, although Wufei's eyes never left the tabletop.
"You do not understand," Wufei said coldly, "and you should not poke your nose into situations that are not fully within your expertise." He whirled and stalked out of the room silently, his posture radiating his anger.
Silence stretched like molten glass before shattering with the help of a gusty sigh from Duo. "Well...suppose that's been building for a while," he muttered, standing up. "Sorry man," he said unsympathetically to Quatre, "but what did you have to do that for?"
Quatre was staring straight forward, his expression stricken. "I...I..."
Duo shrugged. "Eh, if it wasn't you, it would've been someone else. Don't sweat it. That guy is too uptight for his own good, anyway. Someone ought to tell him to change the stick one of these days." He chuckled at his own joke and strolled out of the room. Heero followed suit silently, his mind apparently on other agendas.
Quatre felt his face flushing with anger and chagrin, and barely noticed that the other two had left the room. It wasn't until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder that he started and turned slightly to notice Trowa. The other youth's face was expressionless, but there was a kind sympathy in his eyes.
"Come on," he said. "I'll walk with you back to your room." There was a sort of unspoken promise there, as though he would be able to undo Quatre's blunder and make Wufei forget the foolish words he had blurted out without thinking. Quatre nodded silently and stood up, following Trowa from the dining hall.
They walked in silence for a while, but before long, Quatre found his voice, and words poured forth like water.
"I don't know what I was thinking...it just almost hurts to see him so quiet every day...he used to be sort of talkative, but now he doesn't say a word. I don't even think I knew what I was saying until it was too late. But am I wrong? Was I wrong to try and snap him out of this? How much longer is he going to act like this? What happens now? He can't hide in the bowels of the castle forever."
"No," agreed Trowa, "but should you be the one to determine when he is ready to come out?"
Quatre was silent, and his flush deepened. "No," he replied. "You're right. I was in the wrong. I should not have said anything."
"I don't know about that," commented Trowa. "Perhaps your words were hasty, but then again, perhaps they will be enough to snap him out of this funk he's been in. I know that I am as weary as you are of seeing him skulk around the castle like a shade."
"That's just it," Quatre sighed miserably. "I don't like seeing him like this. But what can we do? We can't just make him better. I was in the wrong; I should have left him be. But at the same time, how long are we supposed to just sit in silence and let him mope? Maybe it would have been better if Sally hadn't told him what she had learned about the poison in that dart."
"He had a right to know. You know that."
Quatre sighed. "Yes," he said contemplatively, "and I know that he would have been angry if he had discovered that we had hid information from him. But still...he's been this way ever since we went to Es'rilshan. It's just gotten worse lately. At this rate, he won't even be able to--"
"Master Quatre!"
The two dragon-riders turned at the sound of the new voice. Rasid strode purposefully down the hallway toward them, trailing a handful of Maguanacs behind him.
Quatre inclined his head, trying to hide his apprehension. "Is something wrong, Rasid?"
The older man glowered. "Indeed there is. What is this I hear about you rushing off to confront the king of a rival nation, without any blessing or permission from either the princess or her regent?" He glared at the youth with anger and disappointment; the brace of Maguanacs behind him mirroring his disapproval with glares of their own.
Quatre's first impulse was to fold under the formidable man's ire. But he did not. "I am sorry to have worried you," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "But it was a decision made by all the dragon-riders. Perhaps our decision was hasty, but it is in the past. We acted as a team, and decided to move forward instead of standing still."
Rasid, however, was not satisfied. His frown deepened. "Are you daft?! You could have gotten killed! Your father--"
"I am fine, Rasid," Quatre scowled, apologies dying on his tongue, replaced by irritation. "I do not need you to play nursemaid to me, simply because I am not under my father's watchful eye. We did what we needed to do as a group, whether or not it was the wisest thing for us to do. Father would have agreed, even if it was not the proper move."
"Your father would be furious to know that you risked your life on a hunch!" roared Rasid, waving a fist angrily to accentuate his point. "You rushed off without consulting me OR bringing along any of the Maguanac troops. We are here to watch over you, to make sure that nothing happens to you. We cannot do that if you sneak out from under our noses!"
Quatre colored angrily. He knew that Trowa was still present, standing silent and observing everything, and Quatre was embarrassed to receive such a dressing-down in front of him. "You speak to me as though I am incapable of independent thought, and must be protected as though I were made of glass," he replied acidly. "Father did not need to send you. Besides, even if I had decided to engage your counsel on the matter, I believe that you had taken the Maguanac corps on a hunt, and were not available for such activities."
Rasid fixed Quatre with a cool stare. "It gives me heart to see that you are growing into a strong young man, and that someday, you will make a fine duke for our nation. But your insolence at this moment is most disturbing. What would your father think--"
"I am not a child! I am a dragon-rider! I am not delicate, I am not fragile, and I am not having this discussion!" Quatre folded his arms across his chest. "I do appreciate your concern, Rasid, and I am sorry that I caused you worry. But you must understand that I can't always be expected to hide in the shadows of someone stronger, just because they don't believe I'm ready to fend for myself!" He took a deep breath, and stepped back. "If you will excuse me. I think I need some fresh air. Alone," he said, shooting a significant glance at Trowa to keep him from following before turning and stalking down the hallway, trailing anger and frustration like a nearly tangible banner behind him.
* * *
There was something about the hour before a celebration, thought Relena, that always made the celebration seem more exciting than they did at any point beforehand.
She stood in front of the tall cheval mirror in her quarters, running her hands idly over the skirt of her gown. The royal tailors had worked very hard to create it, and their handiwork showed in every stitch. The gown was made of fine, soft silk, and seemed to flow about her figure gracefully like water. It was colored in a soft shade of blue-violet, which accentuated the creaminess of her skin and made her eyes sparkle like gems.
Relena turned this way and that, picking up the skirts and giggling at the soft swish of fabric. Meryth had left the room for a moment to give Relena a bit of privacy before adding the finishing touches to her outfit; the maid had already been with her for most of the day, helping Relena to bathe and dress, and fixing her hair. Relena had to admit that Meryth's thoughtful gesture of a bit of space was very much welcomed. She felt as though she had been primping since dawn, and it was very near dusk now!
She had already eaten a light late afternoon meal of foods that she could eat without running the risk of ruining her clothing, though she had been almost too excited and nervous to eat. The time before the ball would go rapidly, but still it seemed to drag on. She was to meet with Weyridge in his quarters two hours before the welcoming ceremony, and then would wait the proper amount of time before being introduced to the assembled and take her place for the introductions of those guests who ranked lower than herself.
Relena spun in front of the mirror, allowing the skirts of her gown to rearrange themselves. She hummed to herself, and slipped into a daydream of the ball as she danced idly, her dancing slippers making soft scuffing noises on the stone floor. She imagined herself being lead onto the dance floor on the arm of her prince...his cold blue eyes growing warm at the sight of her...his voice complimenting her on her grace, her beauty, and that she moved like a butterfly when she danced, and that he had never seen anyone so graceful...only to be swept into his arms as the music swelled for a passionate kiss....
She quickly came back to herself at the sound of someone knocking quietly at her chamber door. Relena blushed and self-consciously ran her hands over her skirts, even though she knew there was no way anyone could have seen her. "Come in," she called.
The door opened, and a castle page entered the room, accompanied by Meryth. "Duke Weyridge has asked me to tell you that he wishes to speak with you before the ball, and asks that you meet with him in the antechamber in thirty minutes," the page reported, his face set in concentration as though trying to remember all that he had been entrusted to deliver.
"I shall be there shortly. Thank you." Relena inclined her head graciously, and the page bowed and exited the room.
Meryth immediately went to Relena's side, fussing over the princess and adding the final touches to her outfit. Relena waited patiently, though she realized that she really could have used a few more moments of privacy before Meryth's return, but there was no time to worry about that now. The maid added sprays of tiny lavendar flowers to Relena's hair, fixing them at strategic points where they would not interfere with either her circlet or her line of vision. Finally, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.
"Well...you are a vision, Your Highness, a vision! You'll definitely catch the eyes of many tonight, mark my words, and I daresay that you will--" She was interrupted by another knock at the door, this one louder and more insistent. Meryth clucked with displeasure, and crossed the room rapidly to open the door. It was the guard assigned to escort Relena to her meeting with her regent.
Relena almost wanted to turn back to Meryth and ask the older woman what she had meant by her words, but the guard shuffled his feet and hissed impatiently through his teeth when she tried to turn back to question the maid. Before she could protest, Relena was whisked out of her quarters and was on her way to meet with Weyridge. The countdown to the ball had begun.
* * *
Fikriyya found Wufei in the library.
The dragon flitted between rows upon rows of books, sneezing slightly from the dusty air that books generate, until she spotted her quarry. He sat hunched over an ancient, hulking wooden table, poring over an equally ancient tome. The library was as silent as a tomb, and one would never think that a celebration was taking place mere floors away from the room where the dragon-rider sat.
She stalked her prey like a plains-cat, darting between the aisles, yet always keeping him in sight, until she was very nearly on top of him. She carefully schooled herself, trying to hold back the giggles of mischief that threatened to bubble over and fill the room with sound. Fikriyya faded to invisibility, and cautiously flitted forward to capture her prey.
She did not land on the table, for she knew the click of her claws and the displacement of air and dust would betray her presence, so she carefully hovered in front of the dragon-rider, then snapped back into visibility with the loudest shriek her tiny body could muster.
Her patience was well-rewarded. The dragon-rider let out a roar of surprise, flinging himself backward and nearly upsetting his chair and spilling himself onto the floor. Fikriyya alighted upon the table and immediately collapsed in helpless laughter, allowing the giggles that she'd fought so hard to suppress to roll over her in waves of mirth.
Wufei righted himself, a fierce scowl gracing his features, and glared at his adversary. "What do YOU want?" he snapped.
Fikriyya sobered up enough to right herself and fix the human with a calculating eye. "Why you hide like a crabby-crab in its house shell while the rest of the castle celebrates? They look for you. You're not there. Makes people sad. Makes people suspicious."
The dragon-rider's eyebrows raised in suspicion for a moment, then his expression returned to its normal dark scowl. "I somehow doubt that," he grumbled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I was reading." He hunched over the book once more, pointedly ignoring the dragon.
But Fikriyya would not be so easily deterred. She waddled over to his book, and firmly sat her bottom down on the pages that he was trying to read.
This brought forth a noise of angry disgust from the youth. "What are you DOING?!" he snapped, trying to push her away. "Have you no sense?! I was reading that!"
"Have YOU no social skills?" countered the dragon. "I ASKED you a question." She mimicked his terse tone perfectly, and her high-pitched voice grated on Wufei's nerves.
It was too much for the boy. His dragon's injuries, the assassination attempt, the discovery of his sister's involvement in the plot against the Watcher had all taken a heavy toll upon his patience. The faerie dragon's teasing caused something inside him to snap. Wufei had finally been tormented enough.
Faster than the faerie dragon could react, his hands lashed out and he grabbed the tiny dragon firmly in his grip. He drew his face close to that of his winged tormentor, his lip curled in a snarl. "Now we shall see which one of us has the upper hand." He began to squeeze, intent on crushing the dragon.
But Fikriyya was not one to go down without a fight. She glared at him balefully, and nipped his knuckle fiercely. When Wufei shouted with pain and loosened his grip slightly, she drew in as large a breath as she could and exhaled forcefully, her breath a glittering, misty cloud, right in her captor's face.
Wufei involuntarily breathed in a great deal of the cloud. He coughed explosively, enraged. "Why you--!" But then he drew up short. His eyes, which had been fierce as those of an eagle, softened and seemed to go unfocused, and his tightly-clenched hands relaxed, allowing the faerie dragon to slip free. The dragon-rider's normally tightly-controlled face grew slack, and he gazed about himself with a bemused, relaxed look. "Where am I?"
Fikriyya giggled gleefully and darted off. She knew of one who would not want to miss this opportunity.
* * *
Though Relena was still quite young,she had had plenty of opportunity in her life to experience the pomp of formal ceremonies. Still, she could not help but fidget during the introductions, as she waited for herself to be introduced. Weyridge stood next to her, resplendent in his own robes that denoted his role as her regent.
He noticed her watching him, and smiled at her. "Are you nervous, Your Grace?"
Relena smiled back. "I am not, Weyridge," she said calmly, then scowled petulantly. "But you know that I do not like this wait, however."
Weyridge laughed at this. "Waiting isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, I find it very much relaxing, especially if the event that I am awaiting shall be a busy one."
"You sound as though you know something that I do not," Relena responded, a note of suspicion in her voice. In response, Weyridge only smiled enigmatically, which caused Relena to fold her arms across her chest and scowl crossly.
But before she could question him further, a fanfare of horns jarred her back to the task at hand. She took her position next to Weyridge and placed her gloved hand on his outstretched elbow. Her ladies-in-waiting filed into place behind Relena and her regent, including Hilde, who was dressed in a gown of crimson with skirts which flared dramatically out from her tiny waist, accentuating her features and making her seem more petite and delicate, if that were possible. The raven-haired girl smiled at Relena impishly before fluffing the skirts of her dress self-consciously and tugging at one elbow-length glove.
The doors opened inward and the small party swept into the ballroom. The room was lit softly by several candle-filled chandeliers, which flickered gently from their heights. The room was filled with people, some Relena knew, others whom she did not recognize. She spotted Weyridge's wife, Tassie, who had been welcoming guests and filling the role of hostess while her husband waited to escort Relena into the ballroom. Tassie smiled warmly and applauded along with the rest of those gathered.
Weyridge lead Relena to the dais at the opposite end of the room, where a pair of throne-like chairs had been arranged for the princess and her regent, with several seats arranged slightly lower to accommodate her attendants.
When they reached the dais, the group turned as one to acknowledge their guests.
"We welcome you all to Calon Gaer, and thank you for joining us to celebrate. For not only is this a time to celebrate the trust of continued peace between the nations of Sanq and Es'rilshan--" he turned to acknowledge Lady Dorothy, who was seated near the dais in a place of honor, "--but we must also celebrate the arrival of the dragon-riders." He turned to face the other side of the room, where the five dragon-riders and the entire contingent of Maguanacs stood assembled. The applause reached a new crescendo. "May the presence of these honored guests lead our lands to greater peace and prosperity!"
Weyridge waited for the applause to die down before he continued. "I also have gathered some very special guests here tonight, in addition to all of you who have joined us for this celebration and our honored guests. For the time has come for our princess to choose a consort."
Relena had been trained far too well to react visibly to this announcement, but inwardly, shock plummeted like a hot stone dropped into her belly. What had Weyridge just said?
"I have assembled some of you here tonight so that you could meet the Princess," Weyridge continued. "I am certain that Her Highness is looking forward to meeting you all, as well."
Relena felt the sudden urge to turn and run from the ballroom. Instead, she smiled cordially and tried to look appropriately interested in this unexpected turn of events. She tried to steal a glance at Heero. The dragon-rider's face was an impassive mask. Relena's heart sank. Was he angry by this--or, worse--disinterested?
But she realized that the room was applauding once more, so she quickly turned her attention back to the congregation and smiled, showing the appropriate level of interest. The musicians struck into song, and Weyridge took her hand to lead her onto the floor for the first dance, since there were none higher than himself who needed appropriate flattering, and the suitors (whose numbers Relena did not know) were all in equal standing.
Relena hoped that the dance would last forever, and indeed, as it was a slow, stately dance, it very nearly did. But unfortunately, soon she was facing her partner for the final bow-and-curtsey, and the guests were all applauding politely. Weyridge smiled and lead her back up to her seat on the dais, and she seated herself for a moment as the musicians began playing again. As soon as she was seated, Weyridge excused himself, and Relena was left alone.
She watched the milling heads and myriad colors for a few heartbeats, wishing she could freeze the image in her mind of the people, smiling and happy, content and confident in the fact that they would always remain safe within Sanq's borders. For the briefest of moments, she lost herself in her thoughts. Right now, so much was going well: the dragon-riders had been summoned, and all had answered the call, and it seemed as though Sanq and Es'rilshan were finally moving toward peace. The Oracle had spoken, but so far, no doom had befallen Sanq. Father would be so proud of her, were he alive....
She drew a breath, calling all of her reserve strength to the surface. She could not cry at a time like this! She needed to keep her sense of self about her! Surely her father could see her now, even beyond life, and was proud of her, even though he was not there to share in her successes with her!
But before she could dwell on her thoughts any longer, the dancers parted like waves to allow Weyridge to reappear at the dais, bringing with him a young man who looked to be the same age as Relena herself. He was dressed rather foppishly, and Relena noted with distaste that his hair was coiffed in the heavily-powdered style that the Southern duchys seemed to favor.
"Your Grace, this is Prince Fillippe of Imahllia Virena," he said, his voice carrying a great deal more enthusiasm than Relena felt. She tried to assume her most sincere smile as the prince bowed low and took her hand to kiss it. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance," he said sibilantly.
Too bad I don't feel the same way, Relena thought inwardly, but outwardly, she maintained her air of calm interest as Fillippe lead her onto the floor for a dance.
Dancing with Prince Fillippe wasn't the worst thing Relena had ever done, by far, but she couldn't help but be distracted. The next dance, she swore inwardly, the next dance will be with Heero!
But as soon as the dance had ended and the prince had reluctantly stepped away, Relena was accosted by another prince. And another, and another, and yet more. It seemed that every time she had a moment to herself, another suitor would make his presence known.
Relena found herself helplessly swept into dance after dance with young men whom she had no desire to meet or know. Would she never get to dance with the one prince who did not seem to be determined to win her hand?
* * *
Quatre had paused for a moment from dancing to refresh himself. He had gathered a drink of something refreshingly cool and sweet-tasting, and had seated himself in the room adjoining the ballroom, which had been filled with long tables and low benches, and a buffet table groaning under the weight of an immense amount of food.
He hadn't been seated there for very long before he was joined by Trowa, who had had similar ideas and was carrying a small plate of food. Trowa folded his legs beneath his seat gracefully and concentrated on his plate for a few moments. When he finally spoke, he pretended to be quite interested in the contents of his plate.
"The ball seems to be going well. Her Highness and her regent must be pleased."
"It certainly seems that way. The Maguanacs are having the times of their lives. Fine with me; it keeps them out of my hair."
Trowa laughed lightly. "I saw Duo disappear with one of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting about ten minutes ago. Heero has been skulking along the edges of the room all night, and I haven't seen Wufei since the midday meal."
Quatre nodded absently. "Are you enjoying yourself, Trowa?"
This finally caused the other youth to raise his head. "I suppose," he said contemplatively. "We had gatherings quite often in Alyhandriss, but they were never so large. Mother and Father love to entertain, but they prefer that their audiences are small. I suppose it is part of being a bard. It's much easier to entertain when your audience isn't so large that their talking drowns out your art."
This drew a wry smile from Quatre. "My father dislikes ceremony, but he entertains constantly. For my sisters, mainly. And his wives. The women of my family are like a flock of butterflies, always flitting here and there. Father never passes up a chance to show them off. He's quite proud of his family."
He rested his chin on one hand idly. "For me...I was always being paraded around as Father's crown jewel, his only son in a flock of daughters. He was always so proud of me, but not because of anything that I had accomplished. He was more interested in my potential, my future, than anything I have ever done."
"It is difficult to enjoy the political game when one must be a pawn," said Trowa quietly.
Quatre looked up at the other boy sheepishly. "I...owe you an apology for the other day. I acted childishly, and lashed out at you wrongly. For that I apologize."
Trowa smiled faintly. "I cannot say that I did not understand why you acted in such a fashion," he said. "Your apology is accepted."
A wave of relief passed over Quatre's face, as if he had been brooding on the matter for quite some time. He leaned back against the table slightly, gazing back into the ballroom. "I never did like balls, for that reason," he admitted, sipping from the glass he held. "Even though my father is not here to parade me around, I still wish I were anywhere but here. I wonder why."
Trowa gave Quatre a regarding look. "Perhaps because you have been investing an inordinate amount of energy into trying to avoid the Es'rilshanian emissary?"
This caused Quatre to flush deeply. "What makes you think that I have been trying to avoid her?"
"The fact that whenever she turns your way, you carefully make your way to the other side of the room, for starters."
"I can't help it," Quatre groused unhappily. "She makes me nervous."
"For what reason?"
"I don't know," Quatre admitted. "She's certainly not given me much reason to do so. But there's just something about her that makes me nervous."
"Sometimes the mind tells you things that may go against logic," said Trowa thoughtfully. "Other times it may be warning you of something that should not arouse concern."
Quatre looked at Trowa out of the corner of one eye. "Do you think I'm overreacting?"
"It's difficult to say," Trowa murmured thoughtfully. "I believe that it is still too soon to tell."
"I can't tell either," said Quatre quietly.
"Worrying about what might happen is often more damaging than actually enduring the event," noted Trowa. "Perhaps the emissary represents a threat. Perhaps she does not. But I believe that it is in our best interests to observe and not hypothesize. I do know that too much skepticism could be damaging."
Quatre nodded silently, saying nothing, lost in his own thoughts. "It's just that..."
Trowa regarded him calmly from behind his fringe of bangs, then shifted his gaze to the ballroom. "Such a discussion should not be held here," he said contemplatively. "I daresay that we should not be missed. The Princess has more than enough guests to entertain." He stood up and offered his hand to Quatre. Quatre smiled and took Trowa's offered hand gratefully, standing up in one fluid movement and following him from the room.
* * *
Though Sally had been invited to the ball, she had declined to attend. She was not a great fan of the silliness of such ceremonies; and besides, there was research that needed to be done, instruments that needed cleaning, and reports to write up on her discoveries.
There was also the mystery of the night-bell poison, and what it might mean for the kingdom, not to mention the duchy from which it originated.
Sally sighed and ran a hand over her forehead as she pored over yet another text documenting the illicit use of the flower from a year long since forgotten in the sands of time. So far, she had found many instances of night-bell poisoning, and plenty of evidence why the flower was illegal to grow, but she had found nothing that could concretely be connected with those poisonings and the assassin's attack on the castle.
"It's so strange," she murmured to herself, tickling the underside of her chin with her writing quill, "so strange indeed. The tunic bearing Es'rilshan's crest...the flower coming from a duchy within Sanq's borders...it is almost as though someone were deliberately trying to throw us off the proper trail and trying to get us to attack our own flank...."
A sprinkling of delicate giggles drifted down the hallway and through the open door to Sally's laboratory, heralding the arrival of her dragon companion, and the young scholar smiled. She had wondered where Fikriyya had gone. Sally stood up to welcome her companion. But when she saw who walked through the door, accompanied by the faerie dragon, the smile left Sally's face abruptly.
It was Wufei...yet something was not right. The normally surly dragon-rider had a vacant, calm expression on his face, and gazed about him bemusedly. He smiled broadly when he saw Sally, and strode across the room until he was directly in front of her before dropping into a deep bow, scooping up her hand and kissing the back of it with the air of someone set to seduce.
Fikriyya was giggling helplessly, turning somersaults in the air. Sally looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
"What did you do to him?"
The faerie dragon flitted to her shoulder, and butted her head against Sally's cheek. "I brought him to you!" she purred. "Is a present for you. You like?"
Sally sighed. "Fikriyya, did you breathe on Wufei?"
Fikriyya scowled, and hunched up on her shoulder like a recalcitrant child caught in the act of doing something wrong. "Was his own fault," she grumbled. "He tried to crush me. Had to defend myself. Was the best way to do it."
"Oh, Fikriyya," Sally said, shaking her head. "You really must learn to not use your breath weapon unless it is an emergency." She glanced at Wufei again. The dragon-rider was examining a steel candelabra standing in the corner of the lab as though it were the first time he had seen such a thing. "What am I going to do with him until the effects wear off? I certainly can't let him wander about the castle--he could injure himself, in his state."
"I can think of something that you can do with him," the faerie dragon purred sibilantly in one ear. "He is...so much easier to control, in this state, don't you think? I am sure that a wise woman such as yourself can think of many things to do with such a willing partner." Sally shivered slightly at her words. It was easy to forget that Fikriyya was a fully-grown adult of her kind, and had the same drives and urges as other adults, even though her mannerisms and words often made her seem childlike.
Sally shook off the suggestion. "You know I couldn't do that, Fikriyya," she scolded slightly. "Humans have...problems with such casual liasions."
At this, Fikriyya snorted. "Suit yourself," she said, and flew up to one of the high window alcoves to sulk. Sally just laughed.
"Just because I won't use him for pleasure doesn't mean I won't use his relaxed cooperation for other means!" she said, chuckling lightly. Fikriyya stuck her head out of the alcove curiously, wondering what was afoot. Sally regarded several stacks of parchment that needed filing, glassware that needed washing...and the floor could use a good sweeping. She turned to face Wufei, who smiled back at her cheerfully.
"After all, it's been a long time since I've had such a...willing assistant at my disposal."
* * *
Duo led Hilde carefully down into the catacomb caves, going slowly to make sure she didn't trip or stumble. When they reached his room, he opened the door carefully, so as not to disturb anyone or notify them to his presence, and held it open for her, then entered the room himself.
The room was dark, since Faohr had already been dozing for a few hours, but the dragon was instantly alert at the sound of entry. He rumbled low in his throat in greeting. To Duo, the sound was instantly soothing. It was a sound of welcome that he had grown to know with great familiarity since his childhood. But to Hilde, who had never spent much time in the company of dragons, the sound was terrifying. She immediately froze in place.
Duo put his hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Hilde wouldn't move. "That...that sounded like a warning sound," she said hesitantly.
"From Deathscythe? Naaaah, he was only saying hi. C'mon, I'll introduce you two!" He took Hilde by the hand, and carefully guided her to the ledge nest where Faohr lay, his sinuous body curled like a cat. Ashkita, Hilde's cat, was nestled between the great dragon's shoulderblades, as though it were the perfect resting spot for a kitten, and Hilde pursed her lips in momentary annoyance. She had wondered where that cat had gone.
The dragon's head was raised, and he regarded Hilde with bright, intelligent eyes. In the moonlight, his normally blinding scales took on a luminescent glow that was actually quite beautiful.
"Hey, ol' buddy," Duo said softly. Faohr mewled in the back of his throat, a soft sound that Hilde didn't think dragons were capable of making. "I want you to meet my...friend, Hilde. Say hi, Hilde." He nudged her forward gently.
"Hello," said Hilde timidly. Faohr's long neck stretched out, and he sniffed at the girl curiously. Hilde felt his warm breath puffing at her skin, and tried desperately to not be nervous. Suddenly Faohr gave a small cry, and butted his head against her chest, nearly knocking the slight girl over.
"Hey!" she said, half giggling, half in fear. "What are you doing?!"
"He wants a scratch," said Duo, his voice filled with laughter. "Under his chin, that's his favorite spot. Go ahead, he won't bite you."
Hilde hesitantly reached her hand under the dragon's enormous jaw. His skin was surprisingly soft and supple, and quite warm to the touch. She found what she thought was the right spot, and scratched gently.
The reaction was instant. Faohr groaned with pleasure, and tilted his head, butting harder against her chest. She did giggle this time. "Hey, stop it, you! You're going to make me fall over!" She scratched a little harder, and Faohr all but rolled on his back, jaws agape in pleasure, holding his head as still as he could so as not to stop the wonderful sensation. Ashkita let out a squeak of protest and jumped down from her resting spot, looking thoroughly disgruntled at being disturbed. The dragon took no notice.
"Looks like you made a new friend," said Duo proudly. "I'll warn ya, though, he's a bit of an attention hog, when it comes to his scratches."
Hilde giggled again, most of her fear evaporating. She became bold enough to run one finger along the bridge of the dragon's snout, feeling the firm, pebbled surface of his skin. Faohr opened his eyes, which were a bright, startling shade of green, and regarded first her, then Duo. Then he did something which caused Hilde to nearly stumble backward in shock.
"IreallyreallylikethisoneDuoshe'snotscaredofmeandsheknowsjustwheretoscratchcanwekeepherhuhhuhhuhcanwecanwe???" The dragon gazed at Duo with an imploring, pleading look.
Duo tried to maintain his aplomb and not be embarrassed by the dragon's request, but his words had not really impacted in Hilde's mind. She stared at the dragon incredulously. "You can talk!"
Duo did laugh at this. "Course he can talk. All dragons can talk. Most just choose not to. They're kind of snobbish, you know." He walked over to Faohr and scratched him just behind his horns. The dragon snorted and shook his head. "This one just likes to talk to anyone who will listen." Suddenly, he looked up, his expression excited. "Hey, do you want to go for a ride? Deathscythe here won't mind."
"A ride?! Me??" Suddenly, the dragon didn't seem all that benevolent. "Are you sure..."
"Sure I'm sure! Dragons are strong. He won't even notice the extra weight. Besides, the weather is just perfect for a midnight ride. I might even have a spare pair of riding breeches in here somewhere..." He wandered off, rooting through trunks and dressers. "Ah ha!" he said, holding up a pair of well-worn breeches. "I know they're a little old, but they don't really fit me any more. Don't know why they got packed, to be honest." He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "I...didn't pack my own trunk."
Hilde walked past him, tugging the breeches from his grasp. "I'm sure they'll be fine," she said, a smirk on her face. She pulled a tunic from a different trunk, and disappeared behind the changing screen. A few minutes later she reappeared, and Duo had to use every ounce of his self-control to keep his jaw from falling open. Even dressed in his old cast-offs, the petite girl was unbelievably beautiful, in his eyes.
He regained his composure quickly. "Ahh...okay. You'll probably want to sit in front of me, since there isn't a saddle or reins or anything. I'll hold on to you, to keep you from falling off."
Hilde regarded him curiously. "Who's going to hang on to you?"
Duo gave her a lopsided smile. "Oh, I've ridden this old guy hundreds of times. I don't need to hang on any more."
Hilde smiled. "Confident, aren't we?" She turned to face Faohr's nest. The dragon was beginning to uncoil itself and prepare for flight. Faohr shook out his wings experimentally, and suddenly Hilde was reminded of just how large dragons were. But before she could back out, Duo was urging her gently forward. Faohr crouched down obediently, and Duo helped her slide into place just behind his shoulders, then hopped onto his back behind her.
Faohr stood up, and Hilde experienced a moment of vertigo as the ground sped away from her. Duo rested his hands on her waist cautiously, as if not wanting to press his luck, and she smiled to herself. The dragon walked toward the entrance of the cave, testing the wind and air currents, head held high.
Hilde then made the mistake of looking down.
She swallowed convulsively. "Duo. Are you sure this is a good ide--!" But her words were lost in a great whoosh of air, as Faohr launched himself skyward.
At first, all Hilde could do was hang on for dear life and try not to scream. But slowly, her fear ebbed away, and as she realized that she would not fall or be dropped, she relaxed somewhat and opened her eyes. When she did, she gasped in surprise.
The land below them, which had always seemed so normal when she was on the ground, looked impossibly tiny from the back of a dragon. She could see the bulk of the castle a short distance away, its sides glittering with pinpricks of light where windows opened up onto the night. Hilde fancied that she could hear faint wisps of music and laughter, though she was certain that she was imagining it. Below, slightly smaller but no less bright, were dots of light from the farms and homesteads outside the castle walls, seeming more like a child's playthings than actual buildings and homes.
Faohr sensed her relaxing, and grew more bold. He sped up as he skirted the edge of the river-cliff, his powerful wings propelling them forward, and the wind whipped Hilde's hair about her face. She felt Duo's hands on her waist tighten and his legs clamp more firmly around the sides of the dragon, and instinctively she followed suit as the dragon suddenly dipped below the cliff's edge, dropping into a steep dive before allowing an air current to catch him and send him soaring well past the edge of the cliff and higher than before. She did scream at this, but it was more from exhiliration than fear.
Now I know why so many people yearn to ride dragons, she thought to herself. I've never experienced anything like this!
The dragon now turned toward the forest on the other side of the castle opposite the river-cliff, and Hilde laughed as she watched the tops of the trees skim so close below them that she could make out individual leaf patterns. Occasionally a bird would burst from the treetops in panicked flight in the dragon's wake. As the moon broke free from the clouds, bathing the landscape in soft, feeble light, Hilde thought that she had never seen a land so beautiful as Sanq.
But before she could say anything, she suddenly felt the dragon tense. A low, loud grumble reverberated through his body, and he started circling over a certain spot. Duo, too, had tensed. He leaned forward slightly to speak to his dragon.
"What is it, 'Scythe? You see some--"
But he was interrupted by a loud, earsplitting roar of challenge, made all the louder for their proximity to the dragon's head. Hilde shrieked in surprised pain, clapping her hands over her ears to block out the sound.
Faohr dropped into a steeper dive than before, zeroing in on a small break in the forest. Hilde thought she could spot movement, but it could have been a trick of the night. One thing was certain, however; the dragon had seen something, and he was not going to let it slip past his notice.
He roared again, and this time, Hilde could make out words that made Duo's grip on her waist tense even more. When she realized what the dragon was saying, she paled.
"Intruders! Invadersintrudersintruders! Alarmawakeawake! Thereareinvadersintheforest!!"
* * *
Relena finally managed to break away from the flurry of suitors, feigning exhaustion and a headache, and gracefully excused herself under the premise that she was retiring for the night. She ducked down the nearest corridor, surreptitiously looking around her before leaning against the stone wall for a moment's rest.
"Gods, what a disaster," she sighed under her breath. Now she knew why she had never been brought before any suitors--Weyridge had been waiting for this moment to present them to her all at once! She caught herself and regained her regal posture, then glanced to and fro, and wondered how she would go about finding Heero.
She didn't actually know which room was his, and though she could go from door-to-door in the catacomb caves, seeking him out, she knew that doing so would gather unwanted attention. She had last seen him ducking down this hallway; perhaps he was still around here somewhere...
"It is not wise for the Princess to wander around without any guards, when there are so many foreign people about and the risk for danger is so much higher," a low voice sounded from a shadowed alcove.
Relena whipped around, gasping in a sharp intake of breath, trying to locate the source of the voice. She relaxed immensely when a familiar figure stepped out of the alcove.
"Heero! It's you!" she said, unable to hide the relief in her voice.
The young man's lips twitched slightly. "You were expecting someone else?"
Relena flushed. "I...no," she said, looking away. "But...well, you never know who might be hiding in these corridors."
"Indeed." He frowned, regarding her with a calculating eye. "Which makes me wonder why you are here in the first place. It is not safe."
Relena scowled. "No need to worry about me," she snapped, piqued. "I can take care of myself." She turned to leave, her reasons for being there forgotten in her ire.
Heero reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Wait." She turned, fixing him with a cold glare. "Let go of me, Heero Yuy of Kah'legeth," she hissed. Heero returned the stare with equal coolness. "Not until you tell me why you were wandering around the castle alone, without any guards or protection."
Relena scowled deeper. "If you MUST know..." she said, her voice trailing off. She looked at the floor. "I was looking for you."
It was the first time that Relena had ever seen Heero show any emotion other than cool composure, and she was fascinated. He actually looked startled. "You were looking for me?" She nodded. "Why?"
She inclined her head. "Because I did not get to have a dance with you, that's why."
Heero snorted derisively. "There were plenty of princes there for you to dance with. You did not need me."
The rebuff smarted, and Relena fought back her irritation at his bad manners. "And who says that I wanted to dance with all of them?" She smoothed her skirts and stood up straight. "I may be at the mercy of my regent with regard to who is chosen to woo me, but I do have some small say in the matter. If I wanted to dance with you, then I will do so."
"And if I did not want to dance with you?"
Relena flushed even more deeply than before. "You would not refuse the Princess of Sanq," she said, her voice laced with anger and shock.
"Perhaps." It seemed that the dragon-rider had regained his aplomb. "Perhaps not. Would you be willing to chance it, Princess?"
"Chance what?" she replied hotly. "If you value the status of your duchy, you would not refuse me one dance." In her ire, she had not realized how close the dragon-rider now stood. "I somehow doubt that your father would much appreciate his duchy falling out of favor with the throne of Sanq, just because one of his sons refused to--!" She broke off with a gasp as Heero grabbed both of her shoulders firmly and leaned forward until their noses were almost touching.
"Refused what?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flashed as he regarded the princess.
Relena's breath came in short gasps, and she swallowed convulsively. Her instincts screamed at her that she was in danger, that she should do whatever she could to escape, but for whatever reason, she could not move. She locked eyes with Heero, unwilling or unable to blink.
But before either of them could make another move, the castle suddenly erupted with sound and alarms. Relena gasped and took a step backward, looking around her in confusion. Heero dropped his hold on her shoulders and stepped back, as well.
"What--?" she tried to ask as she felt Heero steering her back toward the ballroom. "What's going on?"
"It is not safe here. You, get back to where there are guards. Do not argue with me." His eyes grew steely. "A word of advice, Princess. This may be your castle, but that does not mean it is safe. One such as yourself would do wise not to wander about the halls alone, lest trouble befall you. Now go." He gave her a not-so-gentle push back in the direction of the ballroom.
Relena whirled to rebuke him for his rude behavior, but when she turned to confront him, he was already gone. In the passageway behind her, the sound of heavy booted feet echoed through the corridor, and several guardsman came into view.
"Princess!" the leader of the group exclaimed in shock. "What are you doing here? It is not safe!"
Relena blushed, and tried quickly to think of an excuse. "I..." She shook her head. "What's going on?"
The guard who had spoken to her had quickly turned to his men and chosen two from the group. "You, and you. Make sure the Princess makes it back to her quarters safely, and do not leave her until you hear word from me." The guards nodded smartly, and moved to flank Relena.
"But...I don't understand...What's going on?"
The remaining guards had already begun to tramp down the hallway rapidly, but the leader of the group was still within earshot. He turned to face her once more, bowing apologetically.
"Your pardon, Your Grace," he said in excuse for his haste. "Invaders have been spotted. The castle is under attack!"
* * *
Noin had stayed for as long as decorum required, but was finally able to make her escape from the swirling vortex of multicolored silk and perfumes, and not a moment too soon, in her mind. For a moment, she felt guilty and a bit panicked at the idea of leaving the princess without a bodyguard, but Noin realized then that security was so heavy around the castle that there was no way an assassin could get through.
Besides, she thought bemusedly, the Princess has the dragon-riders to watch after her. For tonight, she does not need me.
The bright sounds of the celebration slowly grew more faint and muffled as Noin put as much distance as she could between herself and the festivities. It was not that she disliked such celebrations; indeed, she did enjoy them. But she had not been looking forward to this ball, not one bit.
She made her way up to one of the rooms where the messenger-hawks were released and brought in. There were several rooms like this one around the castle, but because it was so near the river-cliff, and the wind currents were unpredictable, the hawks didn't like using it, so it was nearly always deserted. Noin had discovered this quite some time ago, and had made it her special place to sit and think.
Tonight, as always, the wide stone windows opened like great maws into the silky darkness of late evening, and Noin could spot the faint twinkle of stars above and the pinpricks of torchlight below. The wind was strong at this level of the castle, and it tugged at her gown impatiently, setting the soft silk to rustle, as though to try and lure her back to the laughter and dancing below.
But Noin was in no mood to dance.
She walked over to a window that faced the direction of Es'rilshan, and leaned against it, her eyes cast far to the horizon. She had told no one, would never admit it, but the real reason why she had been dreading this celebration was because he wasn't there. Since no one would understand why she was pining over a man whom had been given over by popular thought as being dead to Sanq, she rarely spoke of him. But her heart would not be so easily silenced.
"Milliardo..." she said softly, her voice cracking as though thick with tears. It had been so long, so long since she had last seen him. She had tried to forget him; however, it seemed like the harder she tried, the stronger her longing grew. But it had been years. Surely he had forgotten about her, too.
Noin felt tears burning the edges of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly at first, as she had taught herself to do, momentarily forgetting that she was alone and did not have to hide her sorrow. Soon she gave up on posterity, and reached for her handkerchief to blot at her eyes. She gave in to an unladylike sniffle, but even that wasn't loud enough to cover up the unmistakeable sound of...dragon wings.
She looked up sharply, thinking that one of the dragon-riders had gone for a moonlight flight and had spotted her hiding place. Frantically, she searched through and discarded methods of escape, but when she finally looked up to see who had disturbed her hiding, she forgot all about hiding, and gasped with surprise.
"Milliardo!"
He was right there...his dragon carefully hovering beside the window. He jumped gracefully from the amethyst's back and onto the stone windowsill, and the dragon soared up to the flat rooftop to keep watch over the tower. Noin backed away as the young man stepped down from the window and straightened.
"You look surprised to see me...and..." he smirked softly, "very beautiful. I knew that I was right in choosing this night to see you."
Noin blushed, ducking her head, but then regained her senses and looked up at him, her eyes radiating anger and alarm. "Why did you come here? They'll kill you if they find you! Certainly you know that you are considered an enemy of Sanq!"
The man looked at her, his eyes distant behind the strange mask he wore. "An enemy..." he said absently. His eyes sharpened again. "So be it. I did not come here to see my former home." He stepped closer. "I came here...to see you."
She gazed up at him, slightly mystified. "Me..." She reached up hesitantly, then stopped. "That mask...it's..."
There was a slight curve of lips beneath the edge of the mask. "I'm in hiding now," he said sardonically, as though he knew that everyone still knew who he was. "I call myself Zechs Merquise, when I am in Es'rilshan, and I wear this mask to make people forget who I was."
"Zechs..." she said softly. "Of course. I remember that name." She smiled ruefully. "You used to call yourself that...when we were still very young." Her voice had a faraway note to it as she stepped back into her memories.
Zechs stepped closer to her again, so that they were almost touching. "Do you remember anything else about when we were young, Lucrezia?" Through the mask, his eyes were bright and intense.
Noin's breath caught in her throat as her heart leaped. "I do remember...we promised that we would always be together...that we would someday wed..." She looked away. "But that cannot happen now, can it?"
He took her chin in his hand and turned her head to face him gently. "Do you wish it to not happen?" he asked quietly. Noin shook her head, and was rewarded with that small smile again. "Good," he responded, and pulled the mask off, setting it on the windowsill. "Because I have no intentions of breaking that promise, if you will have me."
"Oh, Millardo," she said, her eyes brimming with tears as she stepped into his embrace.
He held her close for a moment, then pulled away slowly, gazing into her eyes earnestly. "No matter how long we are separated, no matter how far the distance, know that my heart always remains with you, Lucrezia," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.
He leaned forward, and Noin's heart hammered in her chest. She tilted her head up and closed her eyes....
But before their lips could meet, the peaceful night was shattered by the loud roar of a very angry dragon.
The couple jumped apart. Noin looked frantically about her, wondering how they could have been spotted so quickly. Zechs strode to the window and hoisted himself out. "Hrynne, what chances? Have we been spotted?"
Noin heard the amethyst rustling anxiously above her. "No," came the dragon's hushed response. "That roar was not for us. It came from the other side of the castle." She shifted nervously. "If there are other dragons about, then we must make our escape quickly. We must not be seen."
"I agree," replied Zechs ruefully, then turned to face Noin. "I am sorry that our meeting must be so brief..." he began, but she silenced him, gently laying a finger against his lips.
"I understand," she said softly. "If this is how it must be for now, then I shall not hold it against you. Now...go..." she said, pushing him gently toward the window. "I do not want you to die for trying to see me. Go, before it is too late."
He nodded, and moved to stand on the windowsill as his dragon launched herself skyward and moved into position for him to jump on his back. But before he could move, the castle suddenly seemed to erupt into alarms. The angry voices of the guards funnelled up the staircase to the room where Noin stood.
"Invaders! Invaders!! The castle is under attack!!"
~*~
TBC
C&C is always loved and appreciated! ^_^
--Sara
