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

BONUS CHAPTER 7

With dawn came the reassuming of his mantle of responsibility. Relaxed and clear-headed—perhaps more so than he ever remembered being—Van felt mostly ready to return back to the dealings of the war room. Hitomi was luxuriating in his bed as she watched him finish dressing. Earlier, he'd been overcome by her yet again when, pressed softly up against him, she'd whispered "Good morning, my Lord Dragon," ever so warmly into his ear. Now, as he met her eyes, she was smiling at him as if she were recalling the same thing.

The servant he'd called arrived with tea and breakfast, and he requested suitable clothes be brought for his wife.

Van sat at the table with the packet of papers he'd prepared yesterday afternoon, watching openly as his unclothed wife picked up her discarded nightclothes off the floor and slipped into the washroom. When she eventually joined him at the table, she had her sewing kit and nightgown in hand.

"Do you see what you did to my new nightgown?" she held it up to him.

Van subdued what might have become a proud grin. "It had to come off," he instead said as gravely as he could.

She laughed. He'd never really been one to make anyone laugh—except Merle—but he found he rather enjoyed making Hitomi laugh. "And I'm glad it did," she bumped his shoulder, "but you didn't have to tear it."

"That's what you think," he mumbled, but he poured her some tea.

"Thank you." She accepted it from him. "What are those papers?"

"I prepared these yesterday afternoon. They're replies to Balgus and Alcott. I also sketched a map that will help you find the secret reserves. Apparently anyone who knew where they were is dead, and according to the sketches you made for me, they should have been well protected by the damaged palace. It'll take some excavating, but hopefully they're untouched." This is where Van was glad for his ability to compartmentalize his mind, separating the painful reality of his dead people from what he needed to do to help his living people.

He handed her the map and she scanned it over. "You're right. That part of the palace completely collapsed. Balgus has done a good job keeping looters at bay in the city. It made a difference when he conscripted most of the young men into his army. The gold will help." She returned the map and started stitching her nightgown between bites of food.

It was an unfortunate truth of monarchy that one must pay the people who were loyal. If what he hoped was true, the coffers may be able to keep his troops loyal long enough to come out ahead.

"Van, our people are still going to need aid over the winter," she said.

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing. That's one reason I want you to come to the meeting. I don't want you trekking alone back to Fanelia. I'm hoping that we can send you in a levy-ship with some provisions."

She looked up at him and said with some emotion, "That is—yes, that would be good."

It didn't take long for her to mend the tear on her nightgown as they visited and ate breakfast. The atmosphere was so vastly different from their dinner the night before. Hitomi relaxed in her seat—not minding that her robe gaped pleasantly—and ate almost as if she were starving. Van asked about her living arrangements, how she fared, and day-to-day stuff they hadn't spoken of before. He told her he'd arranged for a loan from the Fassa-Astons for repair and rebuilding of their capital.

She had just cleaned herself up when the maid from yesterday arrived with a bundle of clothes. It didn't surprise him that Hitomi knew her name and spoke with her as if they were comfortable together.

Van insisted on waiting and set himself on the couch, watching stoically as the aforementioned maid helped his wife with her dress and hair. So many layers and ties and pins went into women's fashion, even this relatively simple dress from Millerna, but it all did his wife justice as far as he could tell. Van was amused by the maid's nervous glances his way, but Hitomi held herself with dignity and sent him a smile now and again. Once, he surprised her with a wink and was rewarded with a lovely blush.

He knew it wasn't customary for a man to watch his lady dress, but she was his wife— his lover now, too—and he found himself loath to be away from her today. He hoped by arranging a levy-ship, he could put off her departure another day or two, but he couldn't put off his own much longer. The war needed to be fought. For now, it was enough that whatever he needed to do today, he could do with her by his side.

By the time they left for the war room, Hitomi looked like the queen she was. It was nice to see, after her rough appearance yesterday. Of course, nothing could compare to when he found her freshly bathed and barely clothed before the fire, but the dress did her justice, especially where it nipped in at her waist. She held his arm as they walked, and he decided—either to avoid the other monarchs for just a few more minutes or sneak a moment alone with his wife—to detour through the gardens for some fresh air.

"The upper gardens survived the burning," she told him as they walked through a path lined with roses.

"My parents' monuments?"

"Yes. They're completely intact. And the great tree, too. It got scorched on the west side, but it was just starting to change color when I left."

"I hope you get to see it before all the leaves drop."

She sent him a look that he couldn't interpret.

They came to a little secluded cove of a pond surrounded by tall, sweeping trees. His wife the queen bent over a little to admire some fish skittering in the shadowy water. Van watched her from the corner of his eye as he examined the surrounding area. Birds sang. Leaves rustled. The windows of the palace were nowhere to be seen.

Satisfied, he stepped to her. "Hitomi," he murmured. She straightened and turned her bright eyes to him. With one finger, he lifted her chin and bent over to meet her smiling lips with his. Tasting her, nipping her lips, kissing her deeply, he trailed one hand down the curve of her neck, over and all the way down to rest on the flare of her hip. Pressing into him, she drew her arms around him, tangling her fingers into his hair, warmly returning his embrace. When they finally pulled apart, she planted a couple extra kisses to his mouth.

"It's nice to see you smile," she murmured up to him.

"I'm not smiling."

She laughed and bent to whisper in his ear. "Whatever you say, my Lord—"

He felt something stir within him when he realized what she was about to say, and he quickly pressed his hand over her mouth. "You can't call me that." Her eyes glinted mischievously above his hand, but she nodded. When he removed it, she reached up and smoothed his hair back down, her fingers gentle in his hair. He liked the sensation.

"Now, how does my hair look?" she asked him after she was satisfied his hair was tidied.

"Fine," he told her after looking it over. She smiled and he tucked her hand back into his elbow for the return walk to the palace by the same path.

As they neared the golden-glazed windows, he caught their reflection in a passing window. To his disbelief, he was smiling. It wasn't an all-out, stupid grin like he might imagine himself to have, but it was… happy. Next to him, his wife seemed to glow.

"Van, you didn't tell me my hair was all mussed!" she exclaimed quietly when she spotted her own reflection. He couldn't tell what she meant, but she started fixing some strands of hair back into their pins.

"I didn't notice anything," was all he could think to say.

"You didn't notice that you man-handled my hair from its braid?" she accused. She eventually gave up trying to fix it.

"I think you look nice." She flushed as she shook her head at him, and her green eyes stood out, but she accepted his arm again.

He told himself it shouldn't feel different, walking with his wife on his arm. He'd done it before the war on a regular basis. They'd sat together at court. They'd strolled through the capital among their people. He'd walked her into dinners. But she'd never held his arm as she was now—as if she liked being there—and her face had never been so alive with color. He recalled his reflection next to hers in the window, how he looked surprisingly content and pleased, and it occurred to him that they looked like lovers.

Van wasn't used to caring what other people thought, but after yesterday's heckling from the others, he felt a small shiver of apprehension climb up his spine as they came nearer to the war room. He looked down at Hitomi. Her hold on his arm had become tighter, and she stood a little straighter and a little more seriously than just a minute before. She didn't know about yesterday's incident with Allen—and he prayed she didn't find out—but she might have her own reasons for feeling nervous. He suddenly wished they could have days alone to adjust to this newness between them, rather than being thrust into the thick of planning a war just as they were starting out.

In that moment, he couldn't exactly identify the swirl of emotions within him— resentment, nervousness, or male pride—but he made a decision anyway. He ought to walk into the room feeling proud. He ought to embrace this moment. Yes, he now knew his wife—three times, actually– and she'd enjoyed herself as much as he had, if he might say so. Even better, he looked forward to it again—maybe even at lunch time, but the dress might—

"Van, why are you looking at me like that?" Hitomi's questioning voice interrupted his surging thoughts.

He came to and realized he had been grinning rather wolfishly. Van didn't want to embarrass her, but he didn't want her to be embarrassed either that they'd done something they were supposed to do as husband and wife. "It's probably going to be obvious to everyone that—" he began to explain, but his pride dried up under his wife's shrewd gaze; he felt a warmth rush through him.

"What? What do you mean?" Her expression turned horrified.

"I just want you to prepare yourself. They gave me quite a hard time yesterday." He didn't sound sheepish, did he?

A range of emotions flowed across Hitomi's blushing face as she collected herself and her thoughts. When she finally met his eyes again, her expression was determined. "They can mind their own business." She gripped his arm. "Van, we are here for our people."

Van couldn't help but notice that she meant that as a scolding as well as an affirmation, and he had to admire her resolve. He reminded himself that he felt the same way before he had allowed himself to get distracted. "That's right," he said, forcing his mind to clear. He adjusted himself and pulled open the door for her.