Chapter 2: Courage and Tears

Van debated whether or not to knock on his own door. He knew it was the polite thing to do, but the lonely part of his imagination pictured various scenarios involving his wife that could be rather amusing to walk in on. He also knew it wasn't really up for debate, that wasn't the type of relationship he had with Hitomi—yet, he thought with pressed lips—but it was an idea that crossed his mind, as he guessed it would for any man who was separated from a wife during war.

After leaving the Council Chamber, and being someone who needed to feel exertion, he'd detoured up a nearby tower to the roof, where he could breathe in the mid-autumn air without being disturbed. Once there, he had finally found clarity of thought, or at least peace from the agitations he'd felt previously. The last hour he had been put through a wringer of emotion, and now he needed a moment to process everything. When he'd thrust that accursed Knight Caeli against the wall, he hadn't counted on the action burning through the anger he'd been nurturing to get him through the war. But it had, only exposing a rather fertile landscape of new emotions he'd never considered possible for himself before. The realization that he was capable of gentler feelings left him, surprisingly, in a blessedly neutral state. For once, he felt as if he stood on firm ground, and, propelled by his latest warm thoughts of gratitude towards Hitomi, he had finally felt ready to return to her in his room.

Yet now he stood at his door, about to see the subject of these new, unexplored emotions, he was overtaken by a sensation of jittery nervousness. He tapped the pillow against his thigh, contemplating what, exactly, he might say to her, while his fingers clenched tightly into its softness. Inside his boots, his toes tapped an arrhythmia, his usual secret outlet for such a rush of nerves as this. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before giving a decisive knock and stepping inside his room.

When he entered, he was unsurprised to find the young Duke Freid seated in a chair next to his bed, where Hitomi sat up against the pillows, apparently having just finished her lunch, which, he was glad to see, was more than just soup. As Van met his wife's surprised eyes, he wondered if she could see his nervousness and looked away, but not before he saw what he secretly hoped was a flash of unconcealed happiness in her face. When he glanced back at her, she was blushing, and he allowed himself to momentarily admire how it brought out the striking green of her skittering eyes.

Chid rose from his seat. "Cousin, I'm glad you're here to take care of Hitomi! I was just about to take leave of her and let her rest." Typical of the Duke, he said it all with a smile, and even Van's scrutinizing gaze detected no hint of judgment against him after the debacle in the war room.

Formalities were useful in many instances, least of which are those when one has no idea what to say or do next. So the king bowed his respects and gave an automatic response. "Thank you, Chid, for looking after my wife while I was otherwise occupied." Yet again, the boy's cheerful expression didn't falter, and Van breathed a sigh of relief for such graciousness. It gave him courage to approach his wife with a modicum of pride once he'd seen their cousin out the door.

Surprisingly, Hitomi was the first to speak. "Oh I'm glad, you brought the pillow," she said almost shyly. She reached for it, not quite meeting his eyes, and he handed it over. After an hour clutching it rather pathetically, his hands now felt cold and empty, and a selfish part of him wondered why she needed it more than he when she had all his pillows to lean upon. To give himself something to do, he moved her empty lunch tray from the bed to the table.

It wasn't hard for him to admit that seeing her in his bed, even clothed in her dirty travel clothes, gave him a strange sense of satisfaction and, undeniably, anticipation, especially after that burning image he had of her earlier. They hadn't shared a bed in their seven—five—months of marriage together, so he surprised both of them by choosing to sit on the bed at her feet instead of taking the chair Chid had vacated. When he'd done so, Hitomi gasped and looked up at him with wide, stunned eyes and an open mouth. He swallowed, forcing himself to act neutral, to keep his eyes from blinking and looking away as he felt like, but merely kept them trained on her in what he hoped was a confident gaze. Before long, she blinked rapidly and looked away with furrowed brows, her blush deepening. Van realized he'd flustered her and felt a half smile crack his facade.

Her fingers were fidgeting in her hair, and at first, he thought it was an act of nervousness, but soon his subdued interest turned to curiosity as she worked to unlace the band wrapped around her head. After a little nudging, her travel-mussed hair fell across her shoulders in a desperate tangle, a state he'd seen few true ladies display in his presence. It didn't bother him, though, and if his wife was embarrassed by it, she gave no indication, but Van knew instinctively that she'd probably like to wash clean at some point. He made a mental note to request a maid to prepare her a hot bath.

Before his mind could wander further down that avenue, he redirected his thoughts to focus on what she presently laid on the bed between them.

"I created this myself," she said quietly, but he heard a proud note in her voice. Examining it, he saw that the band housed a series of small pockets hiding a handful of tiny tools along with a card of thread, needles, and a delicate pair of scissors. She was traveling with a sewing kit hidden in her hair, something he'd never heard of before. When he met her eyes with a questioning look, she laughed a little, obviously amused at his confusion. Again he thought of his imaginings from earlier, how happily she'd looked at him in them, and he felt himself grow lighter with hope. Swallowing, he sat back a little to gain some modicum of control, then said the first thing he thought. "That's incredibly clever, Hitomi." His voice was raspy, but he thought it sounded sincere.

Apparently it had, as Hitomi's eyes turned watery, and she quickly bowed her head to hide a shaky smile, her cheeks blooming in color again. "Thank you," she whispered. Van pressed his lips together and looked away into his cluttered room. Where he'd felt lightness just a moment ago, he now felt the weight of guilt because his simple compliment had apparently affected her quite strongly, and he only had himself to blame. Taking a heavy breath, he counted back their interactions together and could honestly say that he'd never once complimented her, either directly or indirectly. A question flitted through his mind that he didn't wish to examine at the moment: his rank as king aside, as he'd never sensed a hunger for power in her, why in the world had she accepted his offer when he had personally shown no promise as a spouse or companion?

Van couldn't begin to guess the answer to this stinging question, so he shook himself and focused instead on what his wife was doing. She'd taken the tiny scissors to a seam in the pillow and was now deftly exposing the stuffing inside. By the time she looked up and saw him watching her, she'd recovered from her previous sentiment enough to flash him a smile, and he leaned closer to her.

"I bet you're wondering why I have this," she said, gaining confidence. "I made this, too. It's a secret satchel. I'm surprised you didn't notice its unusual bulk when you were holding it," she said with a lilt of teasing in her voice. "But I guess that means it was convincing." And with that, she pulled a small packet of papers from a pocket hidden inside and presented it to him with a smile.

"These are maps I've sketched up of the destruction of Fanelia and the current defenses, a list of the surviving members of your cabinet, and a couple missives from General Balgus and Minister Arlott," she explained. Her voice was gentle, but as he listened, his eyes grew wider and his face slackened. He could hardly believe what he heard. She continued, "They helped me escape the initial attack and have been working underground defenses around the remaining capital. After I discovered the information from Yukari and Amano, I told them I would deliver anything they needed into your hands."

Van dazedly took the proffered papers. She'd gathered all this information on her own? He couldn't think of anything to say; he was stuck staring dumbly at the unbroken seals on the top letter from General Balgus. The months he'd wondered whether she was alive, he never really contemplated what she was doing with herself if she were. Now he knew she'd been spending her time rather wisely.

His mind raced back to when he'd selected her as his queen. During their one extended conversation at his gala, he'd sensed traces of her passion for and dedication to his country, and it was enough for him as they matched his natural feelings on the matter. He never once bothered to ask why she felt so, even though she was native to Freid and not Fanelia. Then, when she'd taken on the mantle of Queen of Fanelia, he had stood back and watched dispassionately as his people, drawn to her humility and natural zealousness, became their people.

The memory of their conversation at his birthday gala—the day they met—brought another unbidden recollection to mind: the feeling that, as they had danced together, it was as if they had always done so; and, while he normally shirked being examined so closely by his subjects—particularly at formal events—he'd felt tranquility instead of horror when he heard murmurs of "How well they look together!" as he crossed the floor dancing with Hitomi Kanzaki. It was after that one dance that they'd stepped into the gardens for conversation, though the details of it were fuzzy at best now.

He was grateful now that he had presence of mind enough to take in how she looked that night: dignified and rather lovely in a golden dress that brought out her honeyed hair and green eyes. And though he couldn't remember returning her smile forthright, he could remember her smiling eyes gazing up at him. Had he unconsciously been attracted to her warmth then, as he felt himself drawn to it now? Or was it her lack of guile and pretense, or her sincere affection for his country that had appealed to him? Ultimately, when his advisors had put her forward as one who'd be a good match, he'd easily and casually agreed on her and thought no more of it.

Now he felt in a great swell of gratitude how very lucky he was that she had agreed to be his Queen.

He must've been staring dazed for a long while because his thoughts were interrupted by her hand on his arm. There was that warmth again, and his hairs stood on end. Swallowing again and gazing down at her fingers, feeling the press of each one against his skin, it was a moment before he recognized that she'd started speaking.

"Van, please forgive me for humiliating you just now. I am sorry," she said. The king turned his eyes to her. She was leaning forward, her expression intent, her mouth set in a firm line. "Please understand I felt safer traveling that way, and it made it easier to transport intelligence without coming under suspicion. I've always noticed soldiers hate looking at pregnant women," she added with a little smile.

Van took in her explanation, and a weight of discomfort he hadn't known he'd been harboring dissipated. He hadn't realized how much it had bothered him to see her fake a pregnancy, and again he felt his formerly taut muscles relax. She began to pull her hand away from his arm, but, without pausing to second-guess himself, he captured it in his hands and pressed it to his lips.

"Hitomi, you have no need to apologize. I… I feel I must thank you. You've done more than I can express gratitude for." It took all his courage to meet her wide eyes.

"You're not angry?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"No," he said, and pressed another kiss to her trembling hand. When he lowered it, he took a moment to appreciate her delicately built fingers—though they were a little calloused and dirty from rough living these past many weeks—and how small they felt in his war-thickened hands. He clasped them with a gentle pressure and looked back up at her.

For the second time that day, the sun came out from behind the clouds, filling the room with light. Van looked into his wife's bright green eyes, brighter almost than the gardens outside, and watched as tears sparkled down her face. She blinked, her mouth pinching as she tried to hold back her sobs, and, realizing what was coming, he glanced around for anything he might use to comfort her.

Though he'd had plenty of devotees attempt to sway his heart with their tears, Van had never felt as impressed as he did now. Here was his wife—a woman who left her home and country for his, and who had traveled eleven difficult days to be here—crying before him, whether from exhaustion or relief or residual pain from his neglect, it didn't matter. Had he been in this position before the war, he would have stalked away, but now he was determined to be different. Van felt the weight of responsibility for her draw him closer. When she left his hands empty after pulling away to cover her face, he made his decision.

Self-consciously, Van scooted closer to her and gingerly pulled her into his arms. She resisted for a moment before curling into his shoulder. It felt awkward, holding her stiffly like this, but gradually she relaxed, her sobs ebbing away. It was then he noticed her fingers playing along the seams of his top. Her almost imperceptible movements sent shivers through his overstimulated nerves, and his own fingers unconsciously dug a little into her back while his heart thrummed in his ears. He wondered if she heard it speed up.

She took a deep breath, or perhaps it was a yawn, he couldn't see. "I think I need to sleep, Van," she said softly.

"Ok." Begrudgingly, he let her go and stood, watching as she curled away from him into the pillows. He pulled a blanket out from under her feet and covered her with it. Again he felt a zing of anticipation seeing her there in his bed, and he didn't want to leave her. She needed rest, though, he knew she did, and he had things to do, too. Perhaps he could even catch his own nap in the library before meeting her for a private dinner later.

He bent over her, swallowing his cowardice as he tucked the blanket over her shoulder. "Please stay, Hitomi," he whispered.

In response, she nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. Van nodded, too, to himself. He'd said it. This wasn't so bad. It had taken courage, but he'd done it. When he heard her take a sharp intake of breath, he guessed she was crying again. Sighing, and acknowledging that there are some things only time and sleep can fix, he closed the curtains on the bed before slipping out of the room.