Temper the Soul

Chapter 13

By zapenstap

One month later, late summer/early fall

The buzz of voices receded into the back of his ear as Manny parted from his parents, younger brother, older sister and a variety of extended relatives who gathered together for Sunday morning Church service. He shook his head at his father's invitation to join him and a friend at one of the tables for conversation, which would probably gravitate around Damion, palace affairs, politics, the weather or Terese to stay in habit, but anything was open. He smiled, though. Laughing at something unrelated to his son, his father nodded, waved and turned back to his friend as Manny began to walk outside.

"Manny!"

Manny stopped before the open double doors of the Church at the sound of Pastor Howel's voice hailing him from the sanctuary following the Sunday service. Smiling, he waited for the middle-aged pastor to join him and hear what he had to say.

"Manny," Howel began again in an inquiring tone, crossing his arms even in the clerical robes he always wore for early Sunday morning services.

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling in welcome for the man who had been his pastor for the last ten years in this Church. They had talked before so his being stopped was nothing unusual. Paster Howel knew all the regulars and Manny and his family was a natural source of information for anything having to do with the palace, the government or other interesting news. Manny himself was currently the closest link to political affairs, especially anything concerning Prince Regent Damion, which people were always curious about, much to his amusement. "What is it?"

But the pastor surprised him today. "There was a young man who stopped by here about a month ago to return some books and manuscripts your young master had borrowed. Is he a friend of the Ravineere family? I saw him in the background with Prince Damion on a re-run television clip of Jacob Ravineere's funeral not too long ago. He's a pensive, dark sort of person, looks to be at least partially Asian in features and coloring?"

For a moment, he was baffled, but then it came to him. "Oh," he said in sudden realization. "Yeah, that's probably Heero. He just came up for the occasion. He left a good month ago. You talked to him?"

Pastor Howel looked perplexed. "He seemed upset about his girlfriend. Do you know if he ever worked it out? He seemed very intense about the whole thing."

Manny put a hand behind his head, rubbing his neck. "Um, he's always kind of like that, I guess. I don't know him very well personally, but I know that when he left it was the intention of getting back together with her. Master Damion's been really busy with things lately and hasn't really filled me in with much correspondence from the outside. It seems kinds of strange to me that he talked to you."

Pastor Howel nodded uncertainly, his eyes troubled. "Back together, huh?" He shook his head, blinking his eyes. "Yes, I thought it was strange too, but I had hoped it might have done him some good. He seemed quite confused. I would have liked to talk with him again but he never came back. Very strange and withdrawn individual he seemed to me, but quite bright I think. I meant to ask you about it earlier, but I just wasn't sure."

Yeah, that sounded like what he knew of Heero, but he really didn't know any details about his relationship with Relena or how it was going now. "I wish I could help," he said with more defeat than he liked.

Paster Howel sighed. "Thanks anyway, Manny. How is Terese?"

"She's good," he said with a smile. Well, as good as could be expected.

He actually couldn't even define the state of his relationship with her currently, other than that they were together still. But he obviously had no idea what he wanted ultimately and he didn't think she did either. Of course, they had discussed their relationship before. Often as a result of those talks they had agreed to back down a bit, take things slow for awhile, sort out their commitments to life and family and God and themselves. Once they had agreed to take a break from sleeping together too, but then the next night they had fallen into bed with doubled desire and urgency. The following few weeks had been some of the most passionate and satisfying (sexually and emotionally) in all their time together. There were other times that they had decided to be more serious and discuss more of their personal needs and desires and had ended up only fighting constantly. And then there was the time when they decided to see other people and maybe just be friends with benefits. But during that term they ended up sharing some of their most guarded secrets and falling more in love than they ever had been before. He had no idea where they were now. More casual lately with all the craziness in Damion's life, which affected their work and their moods. All the wedding stuff was awkward too. With Terese practically planning the wedding, he knew she was thinking about marriage and it made him jumpy. He loved her, but he didn't want to get married, and he knew she knew that. She even once said that she felt the same way, but girls were so oddly roundabout with what they were actually thinking he wasn't sure whether or not he believed her. But all in all, things were good.

Pastor Howell smiled at him and he realized he must look a little spaced out and foolish. He frequently felt he must look that way. Since there seemed nothing more to say, Manny flushed, smiled, and turned again to go.

Pastor Howel stopped him briefly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Manny, one last thing. I know you're doing all right, but tell your Master Damion he ought to drop by once and awhile." Manny blinked at him and the pastor smiled. "I know. I know. I know who he is and perhaps I ought not to speak so casually, but I've known both your families for a long time, Manny; I watched you grow up together. Tell Damion I haven't seen his face in a long time and I know his mother worries about him. She thinks staying in the palace all day stifles him."

"Sure," he said quietly, a little surprised. "I know. He'll tell me he's too busy but I'll remind him."

Pastor Howel nodded kindly and went back inside. Manny turned to go the other way.

Once outside, the sounds of the city during the day caught him and he began walking down the street. Sundays were his day off if he wanted them and there was nothing urgent to be done at the palace, but he had no plans today. He thought he might just as well go back to the palace to do some work, spend some time with Terese or catch up on sleep if she was busy and there was nothing to do. On the way he stopped at a little shop on the corner of the intersection to buy a glass of lemonade and caught the voices of two men and two women sitting outside at a nearby restaurant, discussing Damion and Audrey. In breezy dresses and decorated hats, the women laughed lightly as their male companions smiled and nodded, all of them sitting about a polished white marble table in a fenced-off eating area to a restaurant with a good (and expensive) reputation.

"I heard," one of the women said in an amused tone, "that he's quite the innocent little thing and she this sophisticated woman from the country. I heard she absolutely despises him."

"Oh, no," the other girl countered with a slight shake of her dark curls. "See, you've never seen him. He's quite handsome and very nice. But I heard she is obstinate and selfish and a downright whore."

"Oh, you're kidding?"

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me. Isn't that the way it always is?"

"I would say not! I heard just the opposite. I heard she's sweet and quiet, that she was secluded in the country her whole life, and that he's this obnoxious, arrogant and aggressive..."

"You shouldn't say such things about the prince!" the brunette with the curls exclaimed. "He's a well-mannered man, I tell you. She's the cheating slut. I hear she schemes and tells lies too."

One of the men scoffed. "Like all women!"

The brunette elbowed him in some indignation and both men fell silent, exchanging amused glances between them.

Her friend chuckled. "I'm sure they're both equally bad. He does keep the company of that Julia woman after all, and nobody refutes the stories about her. Have you heard about her? No? Well, they say they've known each other since childhood and she's a regular prostitute. I mean really, an influence like that, what would you expect? As for first choice, well they say she's from the country. Of course she would take any guy she could get after all that isolation. I don't see what the big deal is, there."

"How about the tradition that first choice is supposed to be a virgin when she marries the prince just like in a fairy tale?" one of the men snickered condescendingly. The woman slapped him on the arm in an annoyed fashion but he only made a face at her.

The brunette crossed her arms. "Be that as it may, I hear that she drinks and sleeps with strangers, or did before she was forced to marry him, and now she just pretends to be this angelic thing. It's not like anybody knows her, so I guess she can get away with anything."

Manny shook his head, paid for his lemonade and walked away. He'd heard all of this gossip before, mostly from upper middle class prigs not quite high enough on the social scale to have any real connections with the royal family or the relations of the council lords. The things they said made him want to laugh. It also made him angry, or indignant, but it wasn't really his place to interfere with such idle gossip. Few people knew or understood who he was to Damion anyway. People had been trying to figure out Damion's love life since before he was old enough to have one, but Manny had seen all of Damion's crushes, love interests and idle flirtations over the years. In their earlier days there might have been more to such rumors, after an adolescent fashion, but less from Damion than from the average fourteen-year-old boy. The difference with Damion was that he was a prince and at that age it hadn't taken much to discover that his title was something of a commodity when it came to girls. Such undertakings never amounted to all that much though, not when Damion's parents found out about it. Well, they had expected it and been prepared. After his sense of moral responsibility settled in, Damion's genuine interest in girls was rare. But when he was really interested he behaved like a gentleman.

His maturity and expectations for his love life changed over the years. There had been that one shop girl with absolutely no family or connections whatsoever that had captivated him when he was barely sixteen and trying to run away from his heritage. He had never told her who he was and, if Manny remembered correctly, nothing much came of it, especially when her family moved. There had also been Relena, but everyone knew how that turned out. Damion was more responsible and possessed of what was expected of him by then, but not truly understanding what that meant for his personal love life. His parents hadn't the heart to tell him. But after Clara Veron died, the original first choice, they sat down and talked with him about the traditions of the court in regards to his personal life. Damion had come to Manny (as usual) with the news that he was going to have to marry some strange girl, whoever the Council decided was first choice, a marriage designed to benefit the stability of the state. He would have to marry first choice unless there was some serious reason why he should not. If Audrey actually had been a wanton, drunken slut, that would probably have done it, but however people gossiped, that just wasn't so. So Damion was stuck. He had been pensive and angry for awhile, then settled into his usual resigned optimism. Damion was the rare, giving sort of man, possessed of a natural genuine nicety even Manny couldn't match on his best days. But this was hard for him.

When he was a kid, outside of his required reading, Damion used to read epic tales, mixing war and love until his head spun with overly dramatic ideas. He knew they were overly dramatic of course; he was too sensible not to, but he still had always believed strongly in a sort of fantasy romance. Manny supposed everybody did on some level, but Damion did everything right. With Terese, Manny had never tried to follow any ideal; he just did what his body and heart seemed to indicate would satisfy them both. It seemed to work all right, though it was confusing. But after his early adolescent years, Damion tried to be everything opposite from the rich, priggish, chauvenistic sex-crazed male some people expected him to be and follow a nobler path. He bided his time and guarded his heart. He did it all for that one girl he hoped to love one day.

And then he became Prince Regent. He lost his father and before he could grieve the Council Lords began having fits about the instability of the royal court. The royal family was well loved by the people. Now Damion and his widowed mother were all that was left of it. Damion was well loved by the people. Everyone commented on how refreshingly kind and good-hearted Damion was as the Prince of Taravren. When his father died, everything seemed much more complicated. Damion knew he needed a wife as much as the Council Lords, to help him with his responsibilities if for no other reason. He also knew he had little choice in the matter, but it was a courtesy to invite all eligible girls, especially if something was wrong with first choice. But nothing was wrong with Audrey, save that she was a touch too serious for Damion if Manny had any opinion, almost seemingly unhappy, but Damion had taken to her and that was all that mattered.

She had been staying in the palace for over a month now. There was no denying that she was beautiful, but she seemed sad a lot of the time, withdrawn. Manny watched his master research her in fascination and dedication, trying to thaw that shield of ice she drew up about her person. She seemed entirely unlike Damion, and indeed, even seemed surprised by him. If Damion was incapable of accepting marriage on cold, practical terms, it did not seem to bother her. Manny feared (and he knew Damion did too) that she might even prefer to wed without emotional strings, to be an exalted sort of servant, a receptacle in sex, a clerical secretary in work, but Damion was wroth to allow it. He kept working her with tenderness, searching for something Manny couldn't see clearly, a sort of buried quality in her soul that would allow her to laugh and be happy like other girls, to receive marriage as a reward for love. It wasn't that she was insensitive or even depressed, but she did not give much. Damion said it was like pulling teeth to get feeling from her kisses and harder work to get her to talk, but when he succeeded, it was like he could scarcely breathe for the rush of feeling.

Manny could tell that Damion was beginning to love her. Oh, in those first few days he had taken an amusing attraction and obsession with her, but the past two months he had doted on her like nothing ever before in his life. Without perhaps meaning to he was loving her. Manny remembered when once Damion sat on a chair in his room, staring at the wall with this strange expression on his face. "How can a man not love what he spends so much time and attention on?" he said, "I feel her, Manny, somewhere inside, I can feel her." Manny didn't know what to say, but he understood that Damion was frustrated. She wouldn't let him touch her or hold her like he wanted, and their conversations were becoming awkward with all the things left unsaid. It didn't help that Damion was becoming inflamed with desire for her. That he was forbidden to touch her both by law and her own self-possession only made it worse. Damion didn't talk about it, but Manny could sense it well enough to know. Damion wanted his future wife sexually as well as emotionally and it was driving him half-mad because he couldn't tell if she had any real affection for him at all. The wedding date was already planned and drawing nearer. Damion knew exactly how much time he had, about four months, and then he would marry her, and sleep with her, whether she cared for him or not.

Of course Audrey liked Damion. Everybody could tell she did. And most people liked her, including Manny himself. She smiled for Damion like she smiled for nobody else, and she seemed to enjoy spending time with him, but whatever else went on in her head was unclear. It was like she was afraid to trust herself to love him, or trust him to love her. And as if her emotional guards weren't enough, she wouldn't yield physically either. She claimed to be complacent about physical copulation after the wedding, but Damion said she tensed whenever he touched her, sometimes starting out his grasp and physically moving away from him when he tried to hold her. It broke his heart, but he didn't let her know. He just went on with things, backing down and starting over again more gently. Damion said she always apologized. Manny could tell that Audrey wanted to please Damion, that she understood what he wanted, recognized that it would be good for her too, but for some reason she couldn't give him what he wanted and she couldn't accept what he offered.

When Manny arrived back at the palace, he began searching for Damion or Terese. There were a bazillion things that needed to be done today, and he would do them even though it was his day off. He had always believed that working hard was important to developing good character and it made him feel good to have everything done before he was asked to do it. Damion rarely ever had to ask for anything anymore, unless it was just some spur of the moment favor. One day he would like to do the same for Audrey, but it didn't feel right at this time.

*****

Summer was fading into fall, but in the Cinq Kingdom, it was one of the loveliest times of the year. Shoes off and feet bare, Relena sat in the grass beneath the spreading branches of a tree, clothed in a peach-colored dress with a gauzy and flowing skirt hiked above her knees. She had her head leaning against Heero's chest, sitting behind her with his back to the tree. His legs were propped up to either side of her, his arms circled around her waist and an open book propped open on her lap, held in his hand. He had stopped reading to her, though. The shade of the tree had moved to the other side. They were now bathed in sunlight and he had stopped speaking, eyes closed, just holding her as they soaked up the heat from the sunlight.

"Heero," she murmured quietly, feeling his chest rise and fall behind her head as he breathed. She could also hear his heart beating and nothing made her so happy as to listen to it while he held her like this. "How close are you?"

"I already told you," he half-laughed, probably still with his eyes closed. "I'm not going to tell you when. I want it to be a surprise."

She sighed. "Does that mean you're close?"

His right hand caressed her stomach. "Not quite. Why don't you just relax and sleep with me?"

He meant take a nap under the tree and stop harassing him. She groaned at his jest, half-turning to bury her head in his shirt. "Don't say that. It's torture." He chuckled, playing with her hair.

It was better now than it had been at first. When he first started seeing her again after returning, she had to use an iron will to keep from encouraging him to break his resolution. That first week she had wanted him so badly they had to keep their time together short. After awhile it became easier and now they were able to cuddle again. She didn't regret this decision; it wasn't hurting either of them and she was learning so much about herself and him just from having to tame her desires, but it was certainly a challenge.

To her delight, Zechs sat her down and gave her his full support for her decision to be with Heero. He also welcomed Heero personally and without reservation, treating them like a couple, which was thrilling in its own way. Zechs was still obviously keeping a very watchful eye on them, but Relena felt as if her brother had relinquished his hold on her, like she had already been given to Heero, save for the ceremony that would make it official and legal and binding.

Noin was helping her plan a wedding. Relena wanted a small, private wedding for the people she knew best, but Noin wasn't sure she could get away with it. At the very least, Relena made Noin promise they wouldn't notify the press until after the wedding, where she would answer any questions. All of her planning in any case felt odd, like counting her chickens before they hatched since Heero didn't have a ring for her yet, but she didn't want to wait. As it was, she would be getting married in April or May at the earliest, four or five months after the date Damion was supposed to marry Audrey.

But she didn't want to stress herself out today.

"Heero," she murmured, tilting her head to look up into his face. "Tell me again about your mother."

He swept hair from her forehead with his thumb as she closed her eyes, settling deeper against him. "I told you I don't remember really," he whispered. "Just impressions mostly, a few memories from when I must have been really small."

"She must have loved you."

"Yeah," he said quietly, and she knew he was staring at nothing again.

"Heero?"

"I don't really know," he said. "I don't remember much. I don't remember my father at all. I don't think I ever saw him."

She was quiet. Heero said he believed both of his parents were dead, but he didn't know how they died. He remembered being in a Federation hospital and being told that his mother was dead. There had been confusion in the room and in his mind. There had been Federation soldiers who were unkind to him, insensitive. After the news about his mother, he just left, four-years-old and with no where to go. He remembered wandering around on the streets for a time. He said strangers took him in when they discovered he was an orphan, nice people who tried to discover who he was, but like a stray cat he never stayed long enough to be picked up by social workers. He just kept wandering around. Families who found him would feed him and let him rest in their homes. In gratitude he would do nice things for them, or things a four or five-year-old child thought was nice. But the minute he saw anyone get on the phone to call about him, or get in a car, he would find a way to leave. He didn't want to go back to the hospital. He didn't want to be "settled" by the Federation troops, who often handled such things. He became good at escaping, in being quiet, in listening for information and interpreting people's thoughts.

"I think I kept expecting my mother to find me when I was wandering," he said quietly. "I didn't want to go back to the hospital. I didn't want strangers to tell me my mother was dead again, so I just took care of myself until she could come back. Maybe I thought I was walking home too; I don't really remember. Eventually, wandering became routine. I got used to sleeping wherever, taking care of myself. People in the colonies were kind, but no one came to look for me and I didn't expect them to. After awhile I didn't need anyone. But I hated the Federation. They were not kind to anyone and I think I started to wonder if maybe it was the Federation that had taken away my parents. But I don't actually know how they died."

Feeling so sad, she rolled onto her side and snuggled into him, wrapping her arms around her waist. He smiled as he looked down at her and pushed her hair off her shoulders so he could touch them.

"I remember once watching other children at play with their friends and their families nearby and thinking how I must have done something horrible to be alone," he added.

Her heart had beat for him through all of these talks, difficult as they were for him to say. But this was a reiteration. She had coaxed the answers out of him already, sitting beside him on a couch in a darkened room, watching him as he hung his head and struggled to tell her what he remembered of his past. He had told her the whole of what he remembered of his past that night on the couch. That was only a few days after he had proposed to her. He had called her in the middle of the night, saying he had been thinking about it since they parted, and she had come. He told her all that he knew while she kneeled beside him on the couch, quiet and attentive. He hardly looked at her the entire time, hands pressing into the couch on either side of him, shoulders hunched. Still, nothing he said surprised or frightened her, save that he had completed his first detonation when he only a very small child, even before Dr. J found him. He told her he had sought death for a long time, but suicide hadn't occurred to him until he was older and already half through with his training with Wing. He had been serious about the war then too, about finishing what he set out to do, but he hoped (and even planned) to kill himself on a mission as soon as he was able. But something, some hope for a peaceful world perhaps, kept him going.

"I love you, Heero," she told him now. She sat up, struggling to sit between his legs facing him, taking his hand in hers, stroking his fingers quietly, feeling sad, but strangely content simply because he shared these things with her.

He stroked her cheek with one hand, letting the book fall in the grass. "Turn around," he said. She twisted, falling back against him again. He held her, wrapping his arms around her comfortably, hugging her from behind. "I'm only telling you this because you wanted to know," he said. "I'm not bitter."

"I know," he whispered as he reached around to kiss her jaw. "There has to be some reason you are so kind, but I'm sorry all the same. I just want you to know that you're a good person."

She wanted him to agree but he didn't. He hadn't told her he deserved her yet, but she was patient. For now he only pulled her closer to him and settled back against the tree as she slumped against his chest and stretched out her legs.

"Did you hear from Duo yet?" she asked to change the subject. It was unhealthy to dwell on the past. She had just wanted to know. Besides, she was concerned about Duo. He had left to gather information almost three weeks ago and his messages had been scanty and not too frequent.

"Lady Une said she received a message from him yesterday," Heero murmured. He didn't sound it, but she could tell that he was worried. "It was several days old."

She bit her lip. "Milliardo told me he's going there," she said, trying to control the anxiety in her voice. "He told me he's leaving soon, but he didn't say when exactly. I think he means to slip out without me knowing."

By the sigh that came almost inaudibly from his lips, she knew he was really worried.

"Heero, what's going on out there?" she asked.

"I don't know exactly," he replied. "I imagine that's why Zech's is going. Communication is getting worse. There are so many people out there that everybody just keeps expecting for the situation to dissolve, but it's getting worse. Gardiner is receiving help from all sorts of sources and there's nothing we can do to stop it. I hear buildings have been destroyed. People are out on the street. There are refugees, fires, crime and the collapse of all government. It looks like a war, but it's not. It's anarchy. Civilians are destroying their own homes. The only soldiers out there are ours, trying to restore the peace."

"How long was Duo supposed to be there?" she whispered.

"He was supposed to be back by now," Heero said honestly, and she felt herself tense. "Lady Une is getting ready to send in rescue teams to pull people out. Nobody can locate Gardiner. Even with satellite intel we can't find him. Even Trowa thinks that if he disappeared things would eventually die down. We know he's paying people to keep everything riled up, giving people weapons and spreading derision."

"What else is being done?"

"I heard a rumor that leaders of the old nations want to hold a counsel on site. They want targeted leaders from certain countries to hold a conference near the war zone and call Gardiner out."

"They want to parley with him?"

"They want the bloodshed to end. Most of the nearby nations have sent people out there, but they're dying. Once volunteers get out there, it's just chaos. Communication is terrible. Some leaders think if leaders traveled under heavy guard to the area they could hold a conference, successfully pull their own people out and reach a settlement with Gardiner all at the same time."

"A settlement? Does he want money?"

"Nobody knows what he wants. But they hope to placate him with something, and maybe try to bring him in."

"He's not that stupid, is he?" she protested.

"I don't know, Relena," Heero replied. "He might at least send somebody, or be willing to talk. He hasn't negotiated at all. It's mindless destruction and murder out there and as far as we can tell, he doesn't claim any responsibility. Leaders are desperate. They don't want to look useless and it probably would do some good."

She sighed. "This is so dreadful."

There was a moment of silence. Relena felt a tension between them, and suddenly she knew why. Her stomach plummeted as he shifted behind her.

"Relena?" he said in a cool, urgent tone. It was the tone he used when he tried to detach himself from her, to remove himself from becoming emotionally involved.

"What?" she asked, knowing what he was going to say.

Heero was quiet for a moment, "If Lady Une decides to send people in to pull others out, I'm going."

For a brief moment, her heart froze in her chest, but she had expected it. Her hands flew to his arms, fingers scrunching the material of his sleeves. "Heero…" She forcibly relaxed her grip and turned to look at him. His eyes were hard and resolute as he stared over her head. Just looking at him, she knew she couldn't change his mind.

"Quatre and Trowa are going too," he said, not looking at her. "Wufei and Duo are already out there, though in different places. Wufei we've heard from, but not Duo. He was in the thick of things. Quatre says that Hilde called him. She's a wreck. I need to go, Relena."

She swallowed, eyes running over ever angle of his face, tracing the lines, the determination in his expression. She wanted to kiss him and more, anything to hold on to him a little longer. "Heero, you might have to fight…and kill again. It won't be the same as in the war. Nobody will technically be a soldier."

"I know," he said quietly, his face not changing a whisker.

His face hadn't changed, so hers changed to match his, resolution for resolution, support for his strength. Inside she was calm, but that sliver of anxiety, anger, fear and tears quivered in her gut. Even so, she nodded in understanding. "If you go," she said, keeping the choke out of her voice, "promise me you'll be careful."

His eyes softened as he looked down at her. Lifting a hand, he touched her face softly, like the brush of a feather. "I will," he said. "I probably won't have to go. I'm sure we'll hear from Duo tomorrow, if not tonight." But he didn't sound sure to her

She didn't say anything in response. Suddenly his body felt very real to her and she wished she was married to him already. Why she wanted it, she wasn't sure; perhaps it would make her feel steadier, perhaps she wanted the excuse to touch him again. Maybe she was afraid she would lose him before she could wed him. She didn't want to fear that she never would be his wife and she also knew she couldn't let herself think that way. Swallowing her fears, she turned around again and pulled his arms around her.

She didn't want to think about this anymore. Cuddling, they relaxed a moment under the tree. There was a curious split down the center of the trunk, but from this hill they could see New Port City. Heero told her when they came up here today that he used to sit on this hill and think about her before he discovered he loved her.

"Heero," she murmured lazily, "tomorrow can we look at houses?"

She felt him shift in surprise, but she just leaned her head back against him, covering the masculine hands wrapped around her middle with her own hands.

"Houses?" he repeated in question.

She closed her eyes, feeling the cool summer breeze blow across the skin on her face. "Yes, Heero. Houses."

She thought she sensed him smiling. "I have one in mind you might like," he said, and nuzzled her neck.

*****

Damion lingered in the doorway, for a moment, one hand on the wall as he watched Audrey lean against the balcony, her hips pressed against the carved stone wall, her hands curving over the railing. His eyes traced every curve of her body, from the pale slender neck, to her slender waist to the shape of her legs hidden by her dress. She was wearing one of the dresses he had bought for her, and some of the jewelry too. All of the gifts had bought for her were specially designed, many of them by his mother, but he picked a few out himself. The dresses he chose lately had lower and lower necklines, more trimly cut styles and higher slits in the skirts. Terese had taken to editing his selections. When he found out about it he laughed. He hadn't known he was doing it. Audrey wouldn't have been able to walk around in some of the things he wanted to see her in, but he admitted that he hadn't always been thinking of her walking around.

He thought he must be going crazy. It was common to find himself thinking about girls or girls' bodies or sex or anything in between, but this was different. He had had mild musing of Audrey in that way before, of course, but always with the omission that they were only musings, nothing serious. But it was serious now. His fingers itched to trace the lines of her form. He felt feverish whenever he thought about it. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't rid himself entirely of those feelings. It was lust, but it was not just lust.

He was in love. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted her to feel the things he wanted her to feel. Kisses weren't enough to express how he felt anymore, especially when they weren't always returned with the same energy he put into them. She seemed to like his kisses, though, which was something, he supposed. Sometimes she would let his tongue into her mouth now, which was thrilling, and sometimes she would let him descend below her face to her neck and collarbone. When he stole glances at her face, she seemed to be enjoying it, but for all he knew she was faking her interest in him. His head was so fevered most of the time he couldn't always read her, especially if her eyes were closed. So much was expressed in those large, liquid brown eyes of hers.

She was driving him crazy. He desperately wanted to hold her. Well, he wanted to do more than that, but he could wait for those things if he must, since he knew he was going to get them. Right now he would settle for being able to just touch her, pull her close. The only times she didn't jump out of skin when he held her was when they danced. In public she would let him put a hand around her waist, but he wanted to run his hands over her hips and up her ribcage. He didn't think anything so mild would be forbidden and he was so curious to feel her.

But she did not love him. More than that, she liked him. He felt if he couldn't have her love and desire for him, it would be better if they had never met until the wedding day. Before all of this he had thought falling in bed with a stranger would be bad enough, but now that he knew her (and he felt he was beginning to know her very well) he feared that forcing himself on a friend would be even worse. But he didn't have a choice at this point, and for him, it didn't really matter. He was in love with her. It was her he was worried about.

Being in love wasn't what he had really imagined. He had thought he loved her that first weekend, but it was nothing compared to the confusion he felt now. When his head wasn't fevered with desire, he was floating on clouds and naming his children and thinking about all the things he was learning about her. It was not perfect yet, but he knew enough to say that he loved her, maybe not with a deep, lasting love, but that would come if he cultivated his interest in her. And he was so interested. She was fascinating, challenging, engaging in mind and body and speech. He knew half the palace thought he had turned into a fool. He could not stop smiling when he thought of her. He loved the way she smiled for him, even if she did not love him. He would take anything he could get from her.

He just wished he could get more.

She was standing on the balcony, staring out over the city, at the people below almost too small to be seen. Maybe that counted as public. Nerves jittery, he took a deep breath and approached her from behind. In the aquamarine dress he had bought her, she was stunning, and as he approached, she moved, half-turning to see who was behind her. The front of the dress was scrunched along the top, with round peasant sleeves cut off at the shoulder. He caught a bare glimpse of the swell of her breasts above the material and had to avert his eyes. She blinked at him in surprise, smiling, but before she could completely turn around he stepped into her space and put his hand around her waist, pulling her back against him.

She gasped, tensing, her hands going to his hands and clutching them.

"Why won't you let me hold you?" he asked quietly, staring over her shoulders and past the dark waves of her hair. He had never asked her before now. He had always complied with her silent wishes, trying to be gentlemanly.

He could feel her breathing. She was slender, smooth and soft beneath his hands. He wondered what her skin would feel like, devoid of clothing, and forcefully had to realign his thinking.

"I didn't know you wanted to hold me," she said in a flat, but not emotionless tone. "I…"

"Well I do, nicely." Closing his eyes, he let his hands trail down to her hips, caressing them. Her breathing quickened. His own breath seemed to stick in his throat. He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. "But I don't want to scare you," he said, "or do anything you don't want me to."

She didn't answer, but neither did she relax. Curiously, his fingers brushed the top of her thighs, descending to her legs. Her hands grasped his, pulling them back up to her waist. Only a little put off, he pulled her back into him, wrapping his arms about her middle until he completely encircled her. She gasped again, and then laughed. That laugh was like a drink of cold water and he smiled, hugging her.

"Does it offend you?" he asked. "I don't want to offend you, or make you feel…"

"It's okay," she said, but he caught a hitch in her voice even as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. Then her whole body relaxed, melting into him, going limp in his arms. "I didn't mean to deny you anything," she said in sweet tones, and turned her head so that he could see her face.

She was asking him to kiss her, he realized, or letting him kiss her if he wanted. He did want to, but he would rather she kiss him because she wanted to, so he refrained. But he kept his hold on her, looking into her eyes, reading her face. After a moment he relented and brushed her lips softly, then pulled back. Once started, she completed the kiss, one of her hands coming up to touch his face. Breaking from her mouth, he trailed his lips to her jawbone and then to her neck, nipping at the soft skin. When he came up for air, her eyes were closed in what looked like pleasure, but the minute he stopped she blinked, eyes opening, and he couldn't read a single emotion in her eyes.

For a moment he thought she looked at him with something he would have easily mistaken for affection if he dared, but she never indicated verbally or otherwise than the looks she gave him that she cared for him that way at all. Still, there was something about her eyes. In their depths he thought he could see her thoughts about him, nice thoughts too, maybe loving thoughts someday. She looked at him like he was the only thing that existed, or at least the only man that existed for her, but she did not touch him or say anything. And even when he held her like this it felt like he was being granted a temporary privilege that she controlled and willed because she was generous. He did not like that. He wanted to possess her.

He wanted to ask her if she loved him or thought she one day could but didn't.

"Master Damion!"

He turned his head at the sound of Manny's bright voice in the hall. Damn. He let one palm brush against Audrey's flat stomach as he prepared to let her go. Again the thought of no clothes as a barrier between them invaded his mind.

Manny walked in before he could move, still chatting amiably. "Master Damion, I was in the city and I heard some marvellous rumors about you being an obnoxious, aggressive prig and Audrey being a dru… oh, sorry."

Manny looked a touch sheepish when he walked in upon them, but Damion let nothing awkward show on his own face. Since it was just Manny, it didn't matter to him, but it would be different for Audrey. He kissed Audrey's cheek for good measure and released her, trying not to be quick about it. Her face changed when he let her go, to a more reserved and severe expression, but when he stepped back she turned her head to follow him with her eyes. Was there perhaps a touch of longing there? He wished he knew what she felt.

"Sorry," Manny said again, directing his plea more in Audrey's direction.

"What do the rumors say?" Damion prompted in good humor. He was usually interested in amusing rumors about himself that Manny frequently uncovered.

"You, my Lord," Manny said with an exaggerated bow, "are an aggressive, obnoxious and abominable man raised in the company of a prostitute."

"What?" Damion said, blinking. Audrey laughed, which made his mood even better. "Who?"

"Julia," Manny said, raising both hands in a manner that suggested something obvious.

"Ah," Damion said. Julia. She might agree if she were here, but he remembered earlier days when they were young and he was a little annoyed, though obviously not with Manny. Manny would probably be annoyed too.

"And Audrey," Manny said, looking at her for permission, "if I may continue," she nodded assent, "is a scheming lying little cheat pretending to be angelic."

"I don't pretend to be angelic!" Audrey protested with another of those sweet, happy expressions that were rare for her. This time Damion laughed.

Manny held up a hand for attention. "My Lady first choice is also a drunken slut," he added with a firm nod.

Audrey looked positively shocked. Seemed her sense of propriety was shaken a bit.

Damion merely chuckled. "Very amusing," he muttered to her credit, "the things people say."

Audrey relaxed, but her smile looked a little strained as she touched his arm. "Quite," she said dryly. "I'm going to go take a nap," she added.

He nodded. "I'll find you later," he said, not sure whether to show his regret at her going or try to pretend that her presence or lack of it didn't affect him.

She turned and walked back inside, disappearing behind the corner. Damion watched her go until he could no longer see her, then leaned against the railing.

Manny smiled at him. "Any progress? She looked happy."

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "Is this the way it was with you and Terese?"

Manny made a face. "Terese and I have a chaotic relationship, Damion. You know that. It mostly just sweet flirting at first, but then everything accelerated in a natural progression. It was very…normal, I guess. I don't know what to tell you. It seems weird to me that Audrey would be both emotionally and physically inhibited."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe she's not in love with you, but she likes you, and it's not just friendship. It can't be. Most girls would at least be interested in something physical with that much. I mean, maybe she wants to wait, and that's fine, but…"

He nodded. "But it's like she's scared, yeah. Well, she's probably not a slut then."

"Probably not," Manny agreed. "I wouldn't really worry about this whole love thing, Damion. She should come around eventually."

He couldn't rely on that, though he appreciated Manny's effort to make him feel better. It seemed so unfair that he could fall so in love with her and she could feel nothing for him in return. Well, Manny thought she liked him as more than a friend. That was better. Maybe it was because she was too proper. Maybe he should take her out somewhere in the city where they could shed their identities for a night and behave like young people. Maybe he could convince her to wear something that would show the shape of her legs.

"Any mail for me?" he asked to redirect his attention.

*****

Audrey's forced smile collapsed the second she left the balcony and stormed down the passageways of the palace to her rooms. She kept her expression flat, her movements controlled, her mind and memory as blank as possible.

She didn't know what was happening to her, when she had begun to crave Damion's kisses, when his presence became comforting and terrifying at the same time. But she knew when he had grabbed her from behind she had almost lost control of her voice, had almost pulled herself out his grasp before she could think clearly. Once settled in his arms she felt fine, even safe, but for a moment…

Lights swam hazily, voices shouted and receded into whispers, colors swirled. She laughed and laughed, and cried somehow. Hands on her wrists suddenly wrapped around her waist, guiding her backward. A door shut. Quiet fell over her. Lights dimmed, colors went dark. Movement still felt unstable. Backward. Backward.

She couldn't react like that again with him. He didn't deserve it. She had to shed this, hide it, bury it deep. Running through the halls, she gathering the beautiful material of her gorgeous dress in her hands. Reaching her quarters, she slammed the door closed behind her and began turning on every light in the room.

"Hold still. You said you wanted this."

"I…"

"Come on. It's no big deal, right? I'll take care of you."

She kicked off her shoes and reached for anything to distract her. Drunken slut. People were saying that?

Lips on her skin, hot and heated. Hands reaching for her, grasping and roaming. She pushed against them, swiping them away, but there were so many. Her hands were caught. Her body was against a wall… or a bed?

"Oh." A slurred, gasping plea. Did she even speak at all? The room lurched. The walls disappeared.

"You're fine. Be quiet."

Death of a first cousin. A father gone. A mother dead only a few days. Why not go to some anonymous party? She was First Choice? Who was she to some man she had never met and would probably be indifferent to? What did it matter when there was so much pain? What had her mother always said about men? Silent sobs shook silently in her breast, caught and smothered in her throat.

No air, no space, no voice. She squirmed under weight, heart beating, breath rasping. No clothes. Stifling. Lights blurring. Head buzzing. Room swaying. She felt sick. "I'm going to pass out." Somebody mumbled it.

Hands invading, shadows covering her. Skin in her sight, a man's bare chest and arms that pushed her hands down. She was limp as a jellyfish. Gasp. Fear. Panic. "You're fine." A harsh, husky male voice. A fading world.

"Yeah. Okay." A slurred voice whispering instant intoxicated agreement. Hands ran over her body, rough, desperate, angry, everywhere…

Everywhere.

Everything went dark.

There were no tears now, only acceptance and resolution. It was not an accident. She knew. She knew. She had known. She fell on her bed, eyes drifting closed, mentally sweeping out the closets of her mind, chasing out dreams. It was no use to worry. There was nothing she could do. It didn't matter anyway, not at all, not to Damion and not to her. It was so long ago. Her own choices she could live with, cold if she had to be. It was just unfortunate, just damn unfortunate, for him. She had not wanted to hurt him, not now. If she had known she would like him… It didn't matter now. God, it was so unfair.

It was not rape.

It had not been rape. It was just stupid. She knew what she was doing. She knew. She didn't even remember a thing about it, except when she woke up the next day in a strange place, alone and knowing what had happened, remembering why it happened, and feeling absolutely nothing. She still had no idea what it was really like, no memory even if she enjoyed it, no thoughts at all. Now she was just sorry, so very sorry.

For Damion. Prince Damion who was actually in love with her.

Thank you for all the reviews I received last chapter!!!!!! I was positively THRILLED. I was hoping to have this part done around Tuesday or Wednesday, but apparently not. Is this the longest one yet? It might be. Well, what I've said about reviews still applies, so please don't make me think four days of my spring break was an utter waste of my time. If you reviewed last chapter, please review again!!! Some of you who reviewed for chapters one or two and then stopped, yeah, I had no idea you were still reading. If you don't comment, I have to assume you're not there, that you didn't come back, and that makes me sad. L So PLEASE REVIEW. There are several sections to this chapter, so comments on all of them would be nice since they're not all related. And predictions would be good too. I like predictions. THANK YOU again for reviewing. You make it worth it. Really. Just press the button and write something, okay? ^_^