Hey, I'm actually meeting deadlines! (and I'm way ahead of schedule ^_^) anyway, thanks for all the love in the last chap. On with the love (literally)!
You know how I usually like to have double meanings, leave the reader to think of it for herself and sometimes end up being confusing? This is one of the few chaps I explain things more, erg, frankly. Let's see how you guys react to that.
Btw, just in case some people might not know, last chap was not done in chronological order. The first scene was actually the part where Athrun killed the lot of people, followed by the last part of the fic (ie, the verbal fight with Cagalli), then by the Shinn-Cagalli conversation at the beginning. Just thought I should clear that up.
Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not own gundam seed/destiny, or its characters, because if I claimed I did, would delete my story—wouldn't it?—and the copyright people will sue me. Any similarities from other fics are purely coincidental, and so are any allusions to real events, places and people.
Chap 27: A Fresh Start
Aprilians did not bury their dead. The bodies were burned and the ashes were brought home for their families to grieve on. There was some practical purpose to it. It was not convenient for the army to bring entire bodies home after every campaign. Urns were easier to carry. The army started cremation for the dead, and the rest of society followed.
Cagalli and Shinn were back from the seashore, just in time for the last burning ceremony for the Crusade. Smoke crowned the flames like the souls of the dead, climbing up the ladder of stars that filled the night sky. Cagalli watched the soldiers as they laid their fallen comrades with sad eyes.
But not one man was crying.
From a far corner, another woman stood. Her dignified air was unmistakably familiar. It was Shiho, who Cagalli saw in Sabadoa.
Coincidentally, the woman noticed Cagalli. Cagalli saw how the woman seemed to recognize her.
But she never saw my face, Cagalli thought. Does she...
By instinct, Cagalli backed away. Also by instinct, Shiho sprang to a dash. Scratching his head as he watched the two women in a chase, Shinn grumbled, "The Commander sure has a lot of competition," not knowing why Shiho was chasing Orb's princess.
Finally catching up with her, Shiho grabbed Cagalli's wrist. "Why are you running away?"
"Sorry, instinct," she said, her breath short.
"Princess, what are you doing here?"
I knew it, Cagalli thought. Shiho had visited Orb the year before.
Shiho lowered her voice, "Are you here as a spy?"
Shiho's sharpness surprised her.
"Was a spy. Now that Zaft isn't a threat to Orb anymore, I'm just part of the medical team."
"So you were here even before Zaft reached our fortress?"
"Since Heliopolis."
"No news from Orb?"
"I got one letter from my brother the other day, but it only told me that they've learned that Zaft isn't attacking Orb anymore and that there was nothing to worry about."
Disappointed, Shiho sighed. Cagalli asked, "Why?"
"I was going to ask you what happened to Murrue, one of Vierna's leaders. I sent her to Orb with one of your lieutenants, Mwu La Flaga."
"In fact, I've gotten word that some of the ministers were able to escape and have set up a government in exile. Where, I still don't know. Yes, we can expect a rebellion. I just don't know when."
"Did I say something wrong?" Shiho asked, noticing the sudden change in Cagalli.
"If Zaft finds out Orb is sheltering a rebel, Orb will be attacked. We can't risk it. We can't accept Murrue."
"What are you saying? Zaft is our common enemy, the invader we have to defend ourselves against."
"Zaft is headed home tomorrow. Orb is safe."
"What makes you think they won't come back for Orb? They're probably just off to get more supplies!"
Cagalli fell silent.
"I don't know what message got to Prince Kira," Shiho continued, "but whatever it was, it could be a decoy. Zaft can just be playing you to get your guard down. Princess, we can't let that happen!"
Suddenly, Shiho stopped. Cagalli turned around to see Nicol just a few feet away, close enough to hear the last words Shiho said.
But like nothing happened, Nicol said, "Isn't it cold out here? The bonfire at base camp's much warmer."
Shiho went ahead. Frozen in her tracks, Cagalli stuttered, "Nicol, what you heard... all that was... it..."
"Relax, we already know what Lady Shiho thinks. We can't expect her not to try to sway you to their side."
"No, about..."
"What, something wrong?"
Cagalli struggled to push out, "Did you hear the last thing she said? Who I was?"
"What? Didn't you want us to know?"
A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have. If the army found out she was Orb's princess, they would immediately suspect her to be a spy.
Even if she had stopped being a spy, letting her identity out was still dangerous.
"If you found out who I was, you might wonder why I never told you who I was earlier," Cagalli finally answered. "You might suspect me to be a spy."
As if on cue, a sudden gust of wind blew. Cagalli took it as a bad sign.
"But I swear, I'm not a spy."
Not anymore. Technically, she wasn't lying.
"Relax."
Nicol's smile was light and comforting.
"I won't tell anyone. I don't know why... well, I think I have an idea..."
His smile faded. He knew.
"But I think you don't want anyone to find out you're Orb's princess."
+o+
Cagalli and Nicol kept the silence until Nicol asked Cagalli to go to base camp without him. He told her his superior gave him a very important confidential task and he must not be disturbed.
"Doing a little bird watching, Captain?"
Le Creuset came out from the shadows with his right arm wrapped in bandages. He was injured from the last battle.
During their stay in Lunius, Nicol had the locals teach him their famed art of birdcatching. "Birds flying in this area are some of the most unique in the world," Nicol answered.
Obviously up to something... secret. Very interesting, Le Creuset thought. "True. Pink parrots are unique to the South."
A pink parrot hovered above their heads, flying in circles. Minutes later, Le Creuset left. Nicol felt his chest decompress. It was only then that he called the pink parrot to descend.
"Nicol, Nicol, Nicol! How do you do? I'm fine, thank you. Too bad, too bad, too bad!"
"Damn, it already knows my name. What if this thing gets away?" Nicol grumbled. "What did she call you? Oh, yes. Haro, please!"
The bird's yapping stopped immediately. The bird was impressively clever; it was getting hard for Nicol to call it in. The message attached to its leg was less hastily written this time.
Brother, I'm fine. I just want to tell you that I'm thinking about joining them back in their journey to Aprilius. Now that Zaft is no longer a threat to Orb, I'm sure you won't mind if I go see their country. You know I've always wanted to see the West.
Your last letter was a comfort. I was worried someone might be intercepting my letters. I'm happy you didn't have to use the information I gave you. May the Divine bless you, and remember that I will always be safe under his watchful eye.
"What did it say?" A voice from behind asked.
"Not much. Just asking her brother if he'd let her go to the capital with us. Are you sure we're letting her come?"
"Yes."
"Aren't we going to tell anyone else who she is?"
"No."
Nicol was following basic military protocol. First, whatever you want to say, inform the officer directly above you. Second, whatever that officer says, follow before you question.
He had been intercepting Cagalli's messages since they left Lunius.
"I think I've put off the question long enough. Why can't we tell the king? And what do we do when she finds out?"
His superior, apparently, wasn't. Right now, only Nicol and his direct superior knew the identity of Orb's spy to Zaft.
"We can't let anyone know who Cagalli is. You know what happens to spies."
Spies were exhausted for information. Nicol didn't want to think of the possibilities.
"Cagalli has done a lot for us, and even if it might have been all for cover, I won't deny a lot of our soldiers have lived because of her efforts. This is the least consolation we could give."
Nicol's superior was right. Cagalli did not deserve the torture.
"Besides, you've been intercepting her messages. Right now, she's perfectly harmless."
"But we can't keep her with us forever. Eventually, she'll find out about the attack to Orb, and she'll do everything possible to escape. I'm sure she'll spill out everything she knows. What do we do then?"
"We'll think of what to do when that happens. For now, just do as I tell you, and keep her thinking everything's fine."
As his superior looked on, Nicol fleshed out a paper and pen. It took him more than two months to master Prince Kira's handwriting, and he was going to need full concentration if he was going to fool the prince's sister.
+o+
When she reached the medical quarters, Cagalli decided to do a last check on all the men she was treating.
"Lt., why were you out?"
Le Creuset's sneer was never comforting. What made it even more eerie was that they were alone in that tent.
"Just hoping to catch a little fresh air," he said coolly.
I'm not buying that, Cagalli grumbled mentally. Whatever. None of my business, I suppose. "Do try to get some sleep. You leave tomorrow morning."
"Your caring gestures are endearing. No wonder the Commander likes having you around."
In an instant, her eyes sharpened. Le Creuset teased, "It's nothing to be shy about. He's very much single… and eligible."
Her eyes grew even sharper. "So it's not that," Le Creuset fingered his chin, searching the tent's ceiling for answers. "I give up. What did he do to you to make you so angry?"
"Nothing."
"Something he said, then?"
"No."
"Well, if he didn't say it, he didn't do anything… Gosh, I've run out of verbs to use…"
And the way this man makes a joke out of everything serious, Cagalli cursed in her thoughts, watching as Le Creuset's poker face amusedly ruminated.
He finally said, "Ah, let's try this. Something he didn't say?"
Her eyes became less sharp.
"Something he didn't tell you? Something you wanted to know?"
Reluctantly, Cagalli nodded. He wouldn't stop asking if she didn't.
"Aw… tell me, then. Maybe I can help you."
"None of your business," she snapped immediately.
"Maybe I know the answer you seek. It wouldn't hurt to try."
"There's no way you'd know. Only Athrun can answer the question."
Three seconds passed. Then it hit her.
"Oh, you're on a first name basis now," he chirped like a nosy humming bird. "Interesting…"
"That's none of your business, too," Cagalli scowled, slightly pink.
Le Creuset asked Cagalli to get him a glass of water.
"I am not your personal maid," Cagalli said, after handing him a glass he finished in one gulp. Then he gave her that annoying Cheshire grin.
"Is this your way of flirting with me? Stop it. It's annoying."
He handed her back the glass. "Don't jump to conclusions, Milady. I'm just trying to be friendly."
"That's not the message getting to me."
"Unlike someone I know…" The grin was wiped off his face. "I know what's mine and what isn't. And I'll never take what isn't mine."
Cagalli rubbed the thought off. This man is 30-something years old, unmarried and… he might be gay for all I know. But I don't think he's a maniac.
She turned sharply, placing the glass back from where she got it. No, I don't think Zaft's king would put someone like that in such a high position.
"Milady, what do you think of this war?"
Milady—the only men to use it were the really old ones, or the young ones trying to sound mature but miserably failing to do so. Le Creuset wasn't that old, but he definitely sounded beyond his years.
"This Crusade? This war to end all wars. This war to conquer and unite the world under one king."
Cagalli answered, "I think it's about thousands of men dying for a really ambitious selfish king."
"Yes, go on."
"I just called your king a selfish jerk. You're not mad?"
"You've changed overnight. A couple of days ago, you wouldn't have the stomach to say that. Headstrong as you are, you're not that brave. But after Athrun's little exhibition, I think you see him differently now, and, in effect, this whole Crusade."
She paced to the other end of the tent and crossed her arms. "I never believed conquering could be justified by anything. These people have done nothing to you. I never told you that because…"
It was not a practical thing to do. She was a spy. It would have gotten unwanted attention, and why they conquered what they did was irrelevant to her mission. They were the enemy. She shouldn't care less.
Unfortunately, she did care. Throughout her stay, Cagalli had gotten mixed reactions from everyone. Some people gave her suspicious looks, but many just wanted to be friends with her. They were all good-natured people, somewhat substituting the friends and family she had in Orb. They all treated her kindly—Luna, Meyrin, Dearka, even Yzak and Shinn. They were annoying sometimes, but they were all good people.
And then there was Athrun. When they set out, she was already indebted to him, he having saved her life when she almost killed him. She went about spying on him and his men, sometimes thinking it was betrayal, but doing it nevertheless because nothing, for her, should outweigh Orb. Athrun was the enemy. He was a good man, but he was the man to beat. Saving his life once was enough. Guiding this misguided puppet of his father was not her moral duty anymore. More importantly, she thought, would it matter if I told him what I believed in?
"Would he pull back the entire army if I told him what he was doing was wrong? I think not."
Silence. Le Creuset with his mask on—his expressions a puzzle impossible to piece together. She couldn't see his eyes, but they seemed to see right through her.
"I thought young people believed in what could be more than old people like me do. It wouldn't have hurt to try."
Le Creuset was right. The way Athrun was not able to answer the last question she gave—it got him thinking. It never saved any lives, but it could have. Had she thrown out the question earlier, Athrun might have thought over his actions and ordered the Crusade to abandon the campaign, realizing how pointless the whole thing was. Lives could have been saved. Those 50 defenseless men he beheaded could have been saved. That little girl eaten by the sea could have been saved.
Had she posed the question back when they first met in Heliopolis, many more lives would have been spared. She was too shaken back then. Things happened fast. All she said was…
I know enough about Zaft politics to understand that you are just the army's Commander. The orders come directly from Zaft's king, Patrick Zala. Your father.
You're a tool, a weapon. You're not the person who decides who gets killed and who doesn't. You're just following orders.
She felt guilty. She absolved him of the fault he had.
"You know the problem with young people? They don't know what war is for anymore."
"Is war for anything other than satisfying greed?"
"You say that because all you know is peace," Le Creuset sneered at the fuming girl. "You don't know how beautiful war can be. War is an…"
"How can anything that causes so many deaths be beautiful?"
"An artist," Le Creuset continued, as if Cagalli never said anything. "War paints a beautiful picture that no one will ever forget. A canvas smeared in blood and immortalized by the pages of history. War is a beautiful, fascinating thing."
His mask glimmered under the moonlight, the shadows of one side of his face darkening against the white glow.
"I'm helping the great artist come up with a masterpiece for this part of history. Isn't that a wonderful contribution? And it won't just last for a generation. It'll last forever. Never forgotten. Isn't that thrilling?"
"You're mad," she muttered.
"I heard that," the old lieutenant grinned. "That's the problem with young people. They don't appreciate it anymore. Most of the army today's new blood—they never saw the great conquests I saw in Patrick's day."
Cagalli was slightly surprised. "So you're on a first name basis?"
"We were childhood friends! I grew up idolizing him. As a cadet in military school, I marveled at how Patrick took control of the entire Northern frontier of the country and how he beat everyone to a bloody pulp. When I was 16, I graduated, was assigned ensign, and set out to capture the last of the Copernican states to fall, Junius."
A few years before Athrun was born, Patrick Zala, Zaft's then young king and the army's commander, set out to conquer cities up north that were then part of Logos' territory.
"Junius was one of Logos' few wheat baskets. It was their primary source for food. Of course they didn't give it up easily. But we won."
"So that's why Logos had been waging war with Zaft for years," Cagalli replied. "They're taking back what was theirs to begin with."
"Theirs? They lost. It's ours now."
"What kind of twisted mind thinks that?"
"Everyone in Zaft twenty years ago. We were heroes when we came home to the capital. It proved what Zaft had been for the last half century—a conqueror. Something with power. Something to be feared. It meant more security. It meant prestige. It meant glory."
Her fists shook under his enigmatic stare.
"The glory of war. It defines us—the descendants of the original forefathers of Aprilius. When you pass by the streets and see the conquered shiver at the sight of your shadow… the feeling is just… amazing. It makes you feel like a god among men."
His smile arched sharply to his chin and pulled back tightly his cheeks—the skin on them so tense the blood was drained. It reminded her of the jester in a deck of cards who owned the gameplan that can never be deciphered until he lets it out himself.
"You've never tasted it. You'll never know what it is."
But she would not be taken aback anymore. Her face was still flushed in anger. Le Creuset found this amusing.
"If you find my sentiments so disturbing, don't worry. Nowadays, not everyone thinks the same way I do. Actually, we all fight for different reasons. Some people think of their families at home when they fight, some people dedicate their battles to those who have died…"
He seemed to have warped back to his regular, less sinister grin.
"Yet some people are in this whole thing just because the king told them to. You can see the divide, actually. The older soldiers fight because they know this Crusade is for the good of the country. The younger soldiers fight because the king said it was for the good of the country."
She recalled what Shinn told him earlier in the night. A journey with a higher purpose… the only way to have real peace.
"What I told you," Le Creuset continued. "A war to end all wars… to unite the world… and blah, blah, blah. Wars end when one king has become triumphant over everyone else and only that one king rules the world, simply because, well, who would wage wars against him? You know the problem with that theory, right?"
"Rebellion."
"Which we have been trying to solve for centuries. It's a vicious, tiring, irritating pest. A better world… that's what Patrick called it. And strangely enough, many people bought it. Especially the young ones. The mantra they live and die by is something they barely understand."
Le Creuset shook his head. For the first time, Cagalli felt she was sure what he was feeling.
Pity.
"And unfortunately for your friend Athrun, he's one of them."
+o+
"Patrick, he's only seven and you're already forcing him to learn to use a sword?"
"I was eight when I first had my swordsmanship lessons. And I did not force him. He insisted on being trained as early as now."
That afternoon of Athrun's seventh birthday was one of the few afternoons Lenore ever let herself look angry. No matter how angry she was, she often made it a point to be the more composed end of the conversation. That day was different.
"What if he gets hurt?"
"That's part of the training."
"He might even kill himself and you still think that's normal?"
"It's part of being Zaft's prince and being the heir to my Commandership. Eventually, it'll be his task to lead the army in protecting the country, and in every battle there will be the possibility that he'll come home in a burial urn. You have to accept that."
Her head hanging on her shoulders, Lenore sank to the first seat she found. Her round green eyes, like shards of precious stones framed by the starch-white canvass of her skin, watched her husband, who looked at her longingly.
"Please understand."
His voice was so used to being stern that in times that it was this tender, it sounded awkward. Only to Lenore would he show this side of him—not to his men, not to his closest friends, not even to his son.
Zaft's king knelt before his wife and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Please understand. Athrun can't see you crying like this. It'll discourage him. He'll be confused."
"I know… but it's just that… Why does it have to be so soon?"
"Because we never know when I'll die. If and when that happens, he needs to be ready."
Lenore begged him not to talk about such things, but he put his fingers on her lips to silence her.
"Before we came, Junius only knew peace. You and I were raised differently—you, from a blissful village in the north, and I from the warlike city of the West. You were taught that nothing could ever be solved by blood. My country thrives in swimming in the blood of the conquered. Logos believes in peace. Zaft believes in war. Not even I can change that."
Lenore wouldn't stop crying.
"Athrun is Zaft's prince. Junius is part of Zaft now. We cannot break tradition. Both of them must live by the sword."
"Why?" she finally burst, the tears flowing from her eyes.
"Because that is who we are."
She lowered her head—it seemed like she didn't want to hear anymore of this. Gently as he could, he raised her head to face him.
"We have made war our business since the beginnings of our city. The bounty our country has is the fruit of that war. Everything we have, in one way or another… we owe it to the battles we have won and the cities we have conquered. Every city takes on individual roles that when put together produce better lives for their people than they could if they scrambled to do so as independent states. War isn't so bad. It just has to be won by the right people. "
The right people, Lenore thought. The same men who killed the thin frontline of Junian soldiers that day Junius was conquered. The same men whose top officers, despite their code of honor, each raped one of her sisters and killed them afterwards.
And now she was married to the very one who killed her father.
"If it weren't for the war I waged in Junius, I would have never met you, and we would have never had Athrun. You and Athrun are war's gifts to me."
He kissed her, the same way he did in all these eight years they were married. The passion, the warmth, the sense of belongingness in his arms had always been there. But that day, he whispered something different.
"You are my prize for winning the war in Junius…"
In Zaft, the woman in a marriage is nothing more than a prize. When the man is courting her, he must do everything to please her—women fall for men who make them feel like queens. For all the hardship and all the days they subject themselves to the whims of a woman, the man is rewarded with the woman's hand in marriage. The woman is the man's prize, and as man and wife, the woman is subject to the man's every single whim.
But she had accepted this. Patrick grew up with this all his life; she couldn't change him. Besides, Patrick loved her, and that was all that mattered. It would be impossible to change him. What she could not accept was that Athrun was going to be raised in the same way.
To Patrick's surprise, she broke the kiss. It had never happened before. Patrick moved his gaze to the door, where Athrun stood with his mouth wide open, his eyes beady as ever.
Quickly, Lenore came to her son's side, saying, "Athrun, do not do what Mother and Father did until you're old enough to have a girlfriend. Alright?"
Athrun nodded weakly. "If that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do to each other, I don't ever want to have a girlfriend."
The boy sped off before Lenore could say another word. "Something tells me Athrun will grow to be very different from the other boys in this city," she giggled, recalling how boys his age were already crushing on girls. Her mood had changed the instant Athrun came in.
"Yes, and at this rate, he'll grow up to be a different king."
Since Athrun's toddler years, Patrick had been crushing rebellions left and right, and most of the time, he left Lenore to raise Athrun within the walls of Zaft's capital. It was Lenore who laid out how the boy would be raised, not Zaft's king.
A woman raised as a foreigner nurtured who would be Zaft's next king.
"A different king? What's so wrong about that?" Lenore said, leaving the room.
+o+
"Damn, I should really teach myself to stay awake when out in the open like this. I always fall asleep."
The smell of something burning woke Cagalli up. She looked to the east, where base camp was located. It was dark—the bonfire had been put out hours ago.
"And that does not smell like burning wood. Wait, are those candles?"
Her feet led her to where the scent came from—a large cave smoothed by the sea and sticking out of the sand. Something inside glowed brightly against the consuming darkness. Cautiously, she made her way in.
The moment she stepped inside, she felt the heat shoot up her foot. Thousands of candles, stood on every inch of the cave's flooring—some even sticking out of protruding rocks on the cave's walls. The cave's watery walls reflected the candles' light, making it brighter. It hurt her eyes.
A small path good for one person was made through the sea of candles. It led straight to an open space, lit by the moonlight gushing through a hole on the cave's ceiling. The cave glowed in two shades—the harsh, golden glow of thousands of candles masking the cool blue luster of the moon. The cave's moonlit center seemed like a refuge from the unearthly heat.
Someone was standing there, the moon's rays raining on his back. The man setting up the candles knelt every time he put down one and stood silent for a while before he put down another, as if to pray. She took wary steps towards him. As she got closer, she recognized him.
"Is this for everyone who died?"
The man answered, "Yes."
"Why so many? Did you kill them all?"
"Yes."
The cave was big enough to house a small village.
"This is what you wanted, right? For me to admit this was all my fault. Because it was me who sent them out."
"You still don't get it."
"It's you who doesn't. These men don't just fight because I tell them to. We all fight for different reasons. If they didn't want to join this war, they could resign from the army and live in peace for the rest of their days—we forced no one."
"What do you call conquering, then?"
"We always gave them the choice. They could have always kept their lives by surrendering. You know me, Cagalli. I never wanted to kill anyone. But they chose to die by my sword. They chose to die, I didn't force anyone!"
Covered in the stinging light from the candles around her, her eyes seemed to burn, two small but furious candles among many of their kind, just as small and just as furious, that when put together could consume him alive.
"You just don't get it."
She was his conscience. She reminded him of the things he tried desperately not to think of. From the glow of furious candles, she stepped into the soft light of the moon. Shaking, Athrun stepped back.
"Don't run away from it. You can't keep doing that. The more you run away, the more people will be killed."
In cold sweat, his back hit the wall. The rough edges pricked the scar on his back.
"At least these people believed in what they died for. Whether they died for tradition, or their forefathers, for their comrades, for their families or for their king. Even dying for you might be a worthy cause. Why you do the things you do… who am I to judge you for that? The point is they died for something they thought was right."
The strength having left him, he sank to his bottom, covering his head. "Enough of this," he muttered.
"At least they believed in what they died for. Can you say the same for yourself?"
He didn't know how long he sat there, praying for Cagalli to leave. He heard her advance towards him and put her hand inside the knapsack slung to his shoulder. She was searching for something. He didn't even bother asking her what she was looking for. Finally, he felt her take something out of his bag. He sighed in relief.
When Cagalli knelt beside him again, the slight contact made him shiver.
"Why are you scared of me? I want to help you."
He felt her lean closer to him, her breath in his ear.
"We are who we choose to be. We believe in what we choose to believe in. I have no right to tell you what to believe in."
She looked straight into his eyes. He could see himself reflected in hers—the image of a scared wet dog wanting his master to come and lead him back home.
"Listen to me. If all you're life the only thing your father taught you is how to follow his orders, you'll never be a good king."
He could barely breathe. He wasn't sick, but he felt feverish. The heat from the candles was getting to his head. She cupped both sides of his head in her hands. For a moment, the shaking stopped. Breathing became easier.
"No one has the right to tell you what to believe in. Not your father, not tradition, not even Zaft itself. You have to decide for that yourself."
She stood up.
"Athrun, let go."
He could hear his own heart, beating madly, a caged beast wanting to burst out taking away his life. His hand clasped her arm firmly. It hurt Cagalli, but she could feel his hand shaking.
"You've come up with your own decisions more than once. You can do it this time, too."
She left. When her footsteps faded, he raised his head. She was gone. That moment, he knew exactly what he wanted.
"I don't want to hurt her."
That moment, he had stopped shaking.
+o+
Dawn's breath was refreshing. The world's source of warmth lazily stretched its fingers—the day was bound to be calm. Out of the hellish cave of candles, Athrun stretched his stiffened muscles. He yawned, thinking he should catch an hour more of sleep before they set out.
Then he found Cagalli, hunched on the sea shore a few feet away. A speck of light flickered under her hands, only to die out, and she would light it again. When he came closer, he recognized it was a candle.
"Cagalli what are you doing?"
"Candles are supposed to guide dead souls to where they're meant to go, right?"
"In Zaft tradition, yes."
There was a time in the year when all of Zaft lit candles at their front doors for the souls of the departed to find their eternal homes. Athrun had made it a habit to do a similar ritual after every battle, a kind of personal offering to the dead.
"Well, this candle's for you."
"What? Don't kill me just yet!"
"No, silly. It's to guide you in deciding for yourself."
The candle, barely longer than the width of her palm, flickered and died.
"Don't just stand there! How did you light all those candles in this wind?"
"This was your idea. You're asking me for help?"
"This is to help you!"
"You're asking me to help you help me?"
"You should help yourself, too. You have to do your part. Now tell me how you got all those candles lit." Annoyed, Cagalli scowled, "What's funny?"
"Don't ask, you'll just get angrier," Athrun pushed out, taking the candle from the girl. "The wind isn't as strong in the cave. Out here, it's definitely harder to light a candle. But…"
He molded out a mound of sand a little taller than the candle and dug a hole inside. He popped the candle into the hole.
"Now light it. The wind won't get in the way."
Its tiny head swaying in the narrow space made for it, the candle glowed softly amidst the sun, like a tiny firefly fluttering beside a grand bonfire, small yet distinct.
"Nice," Cagalli whispered in awe. Something so small could make her so happy. It baffled Athrun.
"You know, I've thought about the things you said. This Crusade… it's wrong. What Zaft's been doing for the last half century… that's wrong, too."
Her bangs covered most of her face. The reaction he could not tell.
"Originally, I set out in this Crusade because my father told me too. A better world, a war that brings peace.. I didn't understand that. As I went on with this Crusade, I learned more about it. First a friend helped me understand why my father told me to set out, and now I understand why he never told me what was wrong with it."
He recalled Kira, the "traveler" he met in Heliopolis. "It would have confused me. I guess he thought I believed in my king so much I'd go crazy if I found out his theory of a better world was just a big lie. And that traveler was right. Back then, I might have even killed him for speaking ill of the king. So I fought for that reason, until another traveler told me I was fighting for the wrong thing."
Cagalli raised her head. Dawn shrouded her in a faint mist, an unearthly light that covered everyone in a glow relieving the world of the harsh, cold night. She smiled, only slightly, but for some reason, a reason he could not understand, he felt happy.
But understanding a little was enough for now. Understanding things bit by bit, learning and unlearning the things he thought were right before was best done slowly but surely.
"When we get back to Zaft, I'll tell the king about the things you said."
Before his mother died, she mouthed the words, "Change Zaft for me." Ever since, Athrun recalled everything her mother complained about: the rift between the rich and the poor, the way the people blindly followed the king as a god, how Patrick, and eventually Athrun, was always away fighting wars. His mother's last wish made Athrun remove the special privileges nobles enjoyed in the army. His mother's influence led him to speak of himself not as a god, but as a servant to his people, contrary to what Zaft has been made to believe for most of its existence. The capital's conservative ministry was far from happy, but because these garnered the king's approval and because they were endorsed by the very popular Prince Athrun, all they could do was talk behind his back.
But never did Athrun do anything contrary to what his father wished. His father's scheming was the infallible formula; everything he did, every decision he made always turned out to be the right ones.
Or so it seemed. Killing off hostile factions mercilessly and humiliating them to serve as the example not to be followed but to be condemned—the sheer brutality of his father's ways, his country's tradition of bloodshed… sometimes, it made his stomach spin.
But brutal as they were, they served their purpose. Every plan the king ever conceived, as far as Athrun knew, turned out the way he predicted—always for the good of Zaft. He was always right. And for Athrun, there can only be one "right". All his life, he believed it was what his father laid out for him and the world.
"I feared making mistakes. So I always played it safe. Stay on the tried and tested path the people before me walked. Conquer. That's what Zaft's been doing for most of its existence, and it is what it is today because of it."
So when his father ordered him to launch his own war—something his mother would have scorned—he didn't bother arguing.
"I guess I've stayed on the easy path long enough."
Now it was different. The most important lesson he got from all of this is to come up with his own decisions.
And fight for them.
"That's a great start. Come on, you look beat. Have you slept?"
It was the same caring Cagalli. Gone will be the Cagalli who haunts him as his conscience, at least until the occasion calls for her presence again. But for now, Cagalli was a friend.
Or maybe a little more than a friend, Athrun added as an afterthought. He was exhausted, but he had a big smile on his face. Just looking at her made his heart skip. It was his first time feeling this way. He breathed deeply. With the earthy scent of morning dew drying up in the sun's growing heat, the scent of white lilies was refreshing.
+o+
"Orb isn't far away from here. I'm sure the message will get here in... Here it is!"
The mood around her made her feel even more thrilled to see Kira's reply. The message was strangely short, though.
Yes. Take care.
Kira
She was expecting a much longer letter reminding her to be careful of strangers and opened, possibly drugged beverages, along with other things women are reminded of when they travel alone. Kira was always the worrywart, and her father was a lot worse.
"Which reminds me, why hasn't Father written anything to me?"
"Uhm, maybe he's busy?"
"Nicol, stop popping out of nowhere!"
Damn, she must be wondering why the messages are so short, Nicol scolded himself mentally. I shouldn't have forgotten to mention her father!
"Haro's excited today," Cagalli eyed Haro, who would not stay put on her outstretched arm. It seemed really happy.
"Nico..."
Right before Haro could say Nicol's name, Athrun shooed it away. The bird jumped to flight, one of the many specks dotting the sky that morning.
"What did you do that for?" Cagalli snapped.
"Sorry, was that your bird?"
"Obviously," Cagalli said, rather annoyed.
"Sorry, I thought it was going to bite you so I scared it away. We leave for the capital by noon today. You might want to pack up. It's going to be a long trip."
Cagalli nodded. Nicol sighed in relief. Good. She has no idea.
"Wait."
Athrun stopped.
"How did you find out I was coming with you? I haven't told anyone."
His heart skipped a beat.
"Never mind. I guess you're really good at guessing what people will do next. But next time, don't assume things too much. You might be wrong."
A small wave crept on the seashore, clobbering at the small mound Athrun made. A tiny candle didn't stand a chance. Athrun's guiding light sank to the seafloor, the light permanently leaving it.
ooooo
And just in case you did not get that last scene, Nicol isn't under any of the divisions. He's an archer, remember?! And there's a separate battalion for them. Guess who commands them, and there you'll have the BIGGEST revelation in this fic so far. Still don't get it? PM or review me. But I prefer reviews. And while you're at it, tell me what you think about this chap. See ya people
