A/N: Reminder: This story has been reverted back to the original version. Please see my profile for the revised version.

CHAPTER 5

Van stepped back into his darkened bedroom to find Hitomi a dark silhouette against the flames of the fire, her hair glowing a golden halo around her. Offhand, he thought it peculiar that his queen made it a habit to sit on the floor, and he decided that at the next opportunity, he would move the couch for her. This time she sat facing out, watching him as he approached, and he guessed that was so he didn't startle her again—which was a shame, because he had found her surprise earlier quite amusing.

He saw her face lift as he stepped closer, but it was in darkness and he couldn't discern whether she was still bothered by his obvious admiration of her earlier; he'd been agitated enough by her barely hidden figure that he had needed more than a few minutes to cool himself down in the washroom.

Now, apparently, it was his turn for his wife to admire him, and his male pride was glad he'd opted to leave his top behind in the washroom. His robe billowed out behind him, and he watched her shadowed eyes widen as she scanned him up and down, down and up. It was something he'd been victim to hundreds of times, almost always accompanied by flirting, simpering, and exaggerated smiles. At those times, his practiced stoniness came in handy for dissuading most hopeful devotees, since he thought of himself as a stone tower to their wind: he didn't let them get to him and eventually they wandered off.

The look from Hitomi felt different, though, for the simple reason that she'd never looked at him like that. He couldn't read her clearly in the shadows, but nevertheless her study of him sent a tremor of excitement throughout his body. He focused his breath—he was King of the Land of Dragons, dammit—and kept eyes trained on her.

Again he recalled how he liked the way her hair caught the light. He was just going to ask himself why he hadn't cared to admire such things between their wedding and the war, but he was interrupted from his thoughts when she finally broke through the silence.

"Do we have… matching nightclothes?" She asked.

"Yes," he said, lifting the edge of his blue robe. "They were a gift from Millerna."

"Oh! How very thoughtful of her."

"I thought so, too." It was serendipitous that Millerna had tracked him down in the library, handing him the clothes and offering the services of a maid for Queen Hitomi.

He held his hand out for her. "Are you hungry?"

"Incredibly."

"I'm sorry I made you wait."

"It's fine. I've been drying my hair." She placed her cool hand in his, and he helped her up. It was with just a little sadness that he noticed her robe was tied securely around her waist.

"I thought you were sitting like that so I couldn't startle you."

She merely laughed in agreement.

In spite of their informal attire—or more likely because of it—he tucked her hand into his elbow and led her the three steps to the table, as he would have if they were attending a formal dinner together. She went along with it without hesitation. "Would you like to sit closest to the fire?"

"Didn't you bathe?"

"More or less."

"Then it's your turn to dry your hair," she said, smiling up at him and giving his arm a squeeze.

"I guess you're right," he agreed, and he returned her smile. He watched her eyes brighten and her lips form a lovely smile, and he found himself relieved that he would have the advantage of firelight on her for their dinner.

He sat her at the table. For as much as he shunned formal events, he found small formalities such as these niceties grounding in moments of insecurity. He hadn't missed practicing them during the war, but presently it helped channel what might be nervousness into something that attempted to mimic confidence.

Hitomi had uncovered her plate and was waiting for him. He followed her lead. It was a simple meal of hen with garden vegetables.

"Would you like some bread?" she asked softly.

"Yes, please." Van watched patiently as Hitomi stood and prepared bread and butter from a separate platter. His eyes skimmed down along the curve of her hip as she bent over.

"Tea?"

He nodded. The gracefulness of her hands as she expertly poured their tea indicated to him that she, too, appreciated little formalities. She was, after all, the daughter of a countess and a general; undoubtedly, he thought, her upbringing had prepared her well to be his queen. Self-consciously, he asked himself when had he started thinking of her as his Queen?

She handed him his things and his eyes followed her as she returned to her seat with her own things.

"Thank you, Hitomi," he said.

"You're welcome, Van," came her quiet reply. They both began eating.

"Your room here is very nice," she said after a minute.

"Yes, the Astons have been generous."

"Are you here often?"

"No, you caught us during a strategy meeting."

"Yes, I knew I would."

"How?"

She looked up at him, and her green eyes glistened in the firelight. "Intuition," she said, then she speared a green vegetable off her plate. As he watched the movement of her lips as she ate, he wondered what she meant by that.

They sat alternately slicing, chewing, sipping. He eventually decided on a question for her. "What route did you take here?"

"Over the Arzos Pass."

"How long did you travel?"

"Eleven days."

"Alone?" He wanted to ask how she managed it.

"Yes. I had a horse for some of it."

"Had?"

"Yes, it got spooked by dragons three nights in." Her gentle voice contradicted the seriousness of her statement. Dragons were no laughing matter.

"But you didn't?"

"Van, do you think I would have traveled all this way through dragon country without knowing how to avoid dragons?"

Again he found himself staring at her lips, and their pleasant lines distracted him from knowing how to react to what she'd said. "You're not afraid of dragons, then?" he finally said.

"No, I married you didn't I?" she teased.

Van looked down at his plate and wondered if he felt pleased or chagrinned by her playful remark. Very few people called him Dragon to his face.

"Your people love to call you the Dragon King." She sent him a smile.

"I've only killed the one dragon," he said lamely, knowing it explained nothing.

It was a couple moments later that he heard her murmur, almost with reverence, "I hear you fight like a dragon."

Unbidden, images of soldiers in red, fire and swords, and bloody limbs flashed through his mind. He lost his grip on his fork. It hit his plate with a jarring chink, startling both of them. Hitomi's wide eyes met his. Van tried releasing the tension in his chest with a deep breath. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Of course, Van," Hitomi said. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't bring himself to respond but instead glowered at his teacup as angry thoughts of his burnt capital and dead people flew through his mind. Those are the reasons he fought like a dragon; it was kill or be killed, and he was determined to lay waste to all of Zaibach.

A splash of tea into his empty teacup broke his thoughts. His wife was leaning over the table pouring for him, but all he saw was that her robe had conveniently fallen open to reveal her pleasantly low cut and gaping nightgown. The swells of her faintly exposed body reflected alluringly in the dim light. His mind blanked as a heat spread throughout his body.

"Would you like dessert, Van," he distantly heard her ask.

"Sure," he said, not really caring except that he could watch her move as she did whatever it was she was doing. He leaned back to let the firelight fall on her better and enjoyed the way it skimmed down the slope of her neck to what was hidden under her nightgown. Almost, he could imagine the feel of her soft curves, and his hands twitched at the thought.

"King Fanel, are you going to eat your cake?" her sardonic voice cut through his wandering thoughts.

"Hmm?" Blinking, he focused his eyes on her face. Her eyebrows were raised at him. She was seated again, too—when had that happened?—and had even started her cake. As if through a fog, he registered that she'd called him King Fanel and wondered if that meant he had annoyed her again.

She laughed and shook her head. "Eat your cake, Van."

So he did, tasting it in an effort to cool himself off. It took a minute, but as he forced himself to look at everything in the room except his barely covered wife sitting across from him, he very gradually felt his mind clearing.

Five bites in, he heard her sigh and looked over to see her leaning over her folded arms on the table. He forced his eyes up from her chest to her face; she was watching him intently. "Van, I have to ask you something." She took a breath. "I would like to know if you're planning to keep a mistress." He barely had time to register what she'd said and the chill it sent through him before she asked him another question. "Why did you ask me to stay?"

The cake had lost its flavor and he swallowed thickly. He drained his cup in one swig and sat in thought. She'd asked him two different questions almost as if they were one and the same. Is this how a woman's mind worked? Where had this come from? Maybe she had been bothered by his obviously lustful stares. He rubbed his hands through his hair and felt very grateful he'd slept for a couple hours in the library because this had been a very long day. He briefly considered that battle might be easier than this day had been.

Since he didn't know any other way to approach her questions, he switched his brain to mediating-king mode. He'd take it one simple problem at a time, as if he were helping his citizens. She'd asked him if he was planning to keep a mistress. A memory came to his mind from earlier in the day.

When he had finally collected his thoughts and looked up at her, she was sitting back and staring glassy-eyed past him into the fire. "This morning I thought you with child by another man." Her eyes darted to focus on him. "It—um – it made me realize that I…. Truthfully, I didn't like the idea of you having another lover, and I don't want one either."

He watched her blink rapidly and visibly relax.

Van steeled his courage for his next thought. "As for your other question... Hitomi, has it occurred to you that I asked you to stay for perhaps the same reason you trekked across two countries to deliver intelligence any messenger could have brought?"

He watched as she let out a breath. When she looked at him, he wished he could understand her expression.

"So you're not just lonely for the company of a woman?"

Internally, he both cursed and admired her directness. He reminded himself that while he might be the King of the Dragon Country, he'd made her Queen, so perhaps this candor was to be expected.

It was hard to think like this, but luckily, his mind had been working things through in the background again. Maybe it's time he told her the truth. "Honestly, Hitomi, I haven't been able to get you off my mind since the war started."

When her eyes met his, he saw a flash of something he'd never seen before. The blacks of her eyes were large and deep and a blush was spreading across her face and neck. It was a long time she held his gaze.

"I'd like things to be different between us, too," she eventually whispered.

The sound of the settling logs behind him returned him to the present. So absorbed had he been with Hitomi that he hadn't noticed the dying fire. He stood and fed it a few pieces of wood, playing with the embers while Hitomi started tidying the table. He felt a jittery energy had settled between them.

"Are you tired?" her voice timidly asked.

"No, you?"

She let out a breathy laugh, "Not really. I slept all afternoon."

Van rubbed his neck. "Yeah, I napped too." Looking around the room for something to do, he spotted the couch in the corner and was reminded of a thought he had earlier. When he looked back at Hitomi to ask her opinion, she was gone, and he heard the washroom door close.

He realized it was his turn to wait by the fire for her.