Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction; I'd be making another season of the show.
Part 1
There was never love between us.
Oh, how could I have known
That what I saw shining there
Was what I saw alone?
Before her, the clouds were spread, bedecked with gold, across the horizon, listening intently to the last fluting song of the birds that were taking shelter in the fading light. The gold turned to scarlet as the sun sank below the mountains, turning them black. She placed her hand gently on the cool glass in front of her, captivated by the sight before her. The rosy clouds sped on their way, leaving the light behind and becoming bathed in the cool darkness. Silken shadows spread along the ground covering the sharp creases that were visible in daylight with an ebony blanket that softened the ridges into waves. An errant piece of gold slipped from its nightly tomb and flew away into the sky, along with a pair of cardinals that winged their way, singing, after it into the heavens.
"Miss Relena," said a muted voice behind her. She turned to see Pagan standing with one hand covering a pile of papers on her desk. She hadn't seen him enter and wondered how long he had stood captivated by the sunset just as she had been.
"Thank you, Pagan," she said with a smile. "Go to bed. I can take care of this by myself." Pagan nodded and left with a bow, closing the door to her office behind him. With one last glance at the moon-softened landscape behind her, she turned to concentrate on the pile of crisp, white envelopes before her.
All letters, probably from my fellow aristocrats, she thought with a sigh. She had been born in a world of ballroom dances and nobility, a world where names meant more than personalities. The letters before her would undoubtedly be full of hollow sentiments that would leave her feeling drained after reading all of them.
I wish I had wings.
Where would that put her? Surely wings would be enough to carry her beyond the monotonous life she lived now and take her to a place were people were still filled with humanity and not the grating coldness of rocks.
She still had her friends of course. The Gundam pilots and the others she had met in the war still filled her soul with hope and love and kept her going when the minor victories she won in the conference room could not. Lately, she had felt her resolve slipping from her. What did universal peace matter when she couldn't have peace within herself? Her days now were filled with spats of temper shown by people who were supposed to be the foundations of peace. She herself had her own doubts.
The world will never be completely at rest, she thought wearily. There is a cycle, as Dorothy has told me many times. We're all so superficial that we cannot see beyond our own worries. So we fight—sometimes for things that don't matter at all or things that will prove to be false or detrimental to the people who fought for them in the first place.
Those whose beliefs are rooted in the fighting are left to hold the world together afterward. I would swear that many people have forgotten the true purpose of the last war. How are we supposed to lead them if they don't change in their own hearts?
God—she just wanted to disappear sometimes.
She had told her council that, once when the desire was so strong that the wish escaped her lips in words before she could stop it. They had stared at her in horror—all except her bodyguards. Noin; Heero, who had returned several years after the end of the war; and Quatre, who also served on the council as well as being her guard, knew her well enough to know that while she would never throw away pacifism so carelessly, something was bothering her. They had tried to comfort her, Quatre by leading the remainder of the meeting, Heero by scaring the council into silence before their never-ending debates became tiresome, and Noin by making sure she had gotten a week's vacation. That had been three months ago.
A sudden urge to just throw the letters away overtook her. She ruffled through them, and not seeing anything of major importance, swept them off her desk and into the trash can. She pulled the navy velvet bow from her long blond hair and ran her fingers through it, resting her forehead on her palms.
I'm not doing anything tonight—except being Relena. Not Relena Dorlian or Relena Peacecraft—just Relena, a girl who's going to be terribly behind in her work in the morning.
She removed her formal coat and pulled off her boots. She closed the door to her office, and tiptoed stealthily down the hall to her room, making sure that no one saw her and had cause to be alarmed. She wanted one night just to herself.
She turned the copper faucet of her large bath and let the steam rise until it filled the whole room with a smoky white cloud. Half an hour later, she emerged from the bath, toweling her hair dry and feeling considerably more relaxed. Her room looked foreign to her, the peach comforter on her queen-sized bed looked inviting but strange, as if she were sleeping in another's house. The portraits on the wall seemed to be of another woman, a majestic queen with aloofness in her posture and confidence in her eyes. Nothing like me, Relena mused as she buried her toes in the soft sea-green carpet. She placed the towel back on its rack in the bathroom and collapsed on her bed, her hand brushing against something stiff.
"What?"
She rolled over and saw a plain white envelope lying on the comforter, no name or address on the outside. She reached for it and tore it open, feeling tears come to her eyes as she read the first line.
Relena,
I'm leaving today. Actually, I'm gone now. You'll be fine, I know. Don't waste time looking for something that was never there. Keep your eyes turned toward peace. Believe in yourself and don't give up.
"Believe in me," Relena whispered, clutching the note in her fists. "That's what you told me—Heero. Are you leaving for good, then?"
She ripped the note in two and threw it on the floor. Her tears were falling faster now, but they didn't mirror the anger that she felt. The anger roiled inside her with no focus, just as the tears blinded her making everything run together in a gray haze.
"Was our love never there? Was it even ever possible?" She lay face up on the floor, staring at the ceiling and letting the carpet absorb her tears. "Why didn't you take me with you?" She curled up on her side, staring blindly at the bed skirt.
Just before dawn, Noin entered the room quietly and picked the pieces of Relena's sorrow off the floor, depositing them in the wastebasket. She turned to look at the girl, sleeping in a tightly curled ball and put her comforter over her before turning to the door.
"She thinks that peace has stolen everything away from her," Noin murmured to herself. "Perhaps it has. I just hope that we can give a little back to her."
Quatre was playing his violin in a patch of sun that streamed in from the windows on the east side of the palace. He didn't look up as Noin entered the room and silently leaned against the wall. The bow trembled in his hand as he let the last wavering note fall on the still air. Noin spoke first.
"Every time I hear you play, Quatre, I feel that your heart is the strongest among us. Yet that song was so sad."
"I was playing my memories," Quatre said and placed the violin in its case. "How is she?"
"As we expected. She took it hard, Quatre. I'm worried," Noin bit her lip and looked out the window. "I wish that he hadn't left her like that, especially now."
"He couldn't see any other way. I would have left, too."
"Your song sounded like you were leaving something."
Quatre shook his head. "I should be focusing on my life now, on her life. Old ghosts have been haunting me all morning," he smiled gently. "How will she take the other news?"
"I don't know, Quatre. I don't know…"
She turned and left; the first meeting would start in about an hour. Quatre carefully put his violin case on the ground, then sat in the chair that had held it, looking out over the gardens. It was spring now, and the land inside the palace grounds was an explosion of color. Gardens weren't places of sadness; looking at one usually lightened Quatre's heart immediately. This time it didn't, however.
Do I love her?
What he had agreed to was right—and necessary. He couldn't see any other way around it, and he was the only one who could help Relena. Heero would have given the world to try, Quatre knew, but he still regarded himself as nothing more than a soldier. While love was important, more was riding on this than just Relena's happiness.
Or my own.
He would do his duty, but now he felt as though it were more than duty. They were kindred spirits in this war of broken hearts. Yet, when he looked at her, he saw a soul that was stronger than his own but crying out in an agony that was in danger of consuming it. He cursed the world with his whole heart and turned away from the window.
What mattered was not that the most influential leader in the United Earth Sphere was not performing but that her heart was dying. The girl who had raised the Peacecraft Kingdom and principles, the girl who had united the Earth, the girl who had given up her power so that there would be no monarchy—that girl was falling further and further away from herself, toward a black pit.
I love her. I have to, or she won't make it.
Relena entered the council room and immediately knew that today would be different. The counselors weren't reclining lethargically in their chairs, but were whispering to each other in a low buzz that carried out into the hall. The droning noise stopped when she took her seat. Quatre and Noin entered behind her, Quatre sitting on her right, Noin on her left. Relena shuffled through the sheaf of papers that she had brought with her, taking a couple in her hands.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," she said, nodding politely. They shifted in their chairs with glassed-over eyes. Relena placed the papers on the table in front of her and smoothed them with her hands, trying to banish the disquieting feeling that was welling up in her stomach.
"The past few years, most of our attention has been spent furthering the Mars Terra-Forming project. As you all know, Milliardo and Lucretzia Peacecraft returned earlier this year with news that project was advancing smoothly. From the reports that we have received from the scientists and technicians stationed on Mars, I believe that it will soon be safe to send civilians up. I propose that we wait for the council members who are not present to return, then meet to discuss a prospective date to begin colonization."
There was a few minutes of active discussion among the council members, punctuated occasionally by raised voices and enthusiastic gestures. One old gentleman lumbered ponderously to his feet.
"Miss Relena," he said in a slow drawl. The others fell silent, their eyes trained on him. "Some of us are concerned that this will put an undue amount of strain on you and this council. Beginning colonization now might stretch our resources to the limit. The United Earth Sphere has recently received word of a minor rebellion that has flared up in the southern regions of Russia. Perhaps it would be better for us to wait. We can't be sure how long you—"
"Lord Tudor, I'm fine," Relena said, barely able to restrain herself from snapping at him. The old gentleman fell back in his seat with a surprised expression on his face. The other councilors broke into heated discussion once more.
When the noise finally subsided, Noin rose from her seat and walked to the opposite end of the table.
"Miss Relena," she said, bowing. When Relena nodded she continued. "The council has, in order to maintain the peace for everyone, put forth a request that a consort be found for you."
Relena tightened her grip on the edge of the table. She barely saw Quatre gazing at her with concern in his eyes.
A consort…be found for me? Arranged marriage. Is that why?
"Relena," whispered Quatre. Everyone was looking at her; Noin had stopped speaking.
"There is a concern, as Lord Tudor expressed earlier," Noin began again, slowly, "that the strain is too much for only one person to bear. The consort would have fully the same responsibilities and power as Miss Relena. Many of the councilors feel that there is only one man with the ability to hold this much power—Quatre Raberba Winner."
Quatre.
Her heart froze. It wasn't right…wasn't fair! But, who was she to argue? They had picked the best choice, the man that she would have chosen. She struggled to hold back tears.
Quatre winced at the sound of his name. He had learned to be proud of it, but now it sounded harsh and imposing. Relena's eyes had widened, but she did not look at him.
He took her hand and kissed it as the councilors and etiquette expected. Her fingers were trembling against his lips. He felt his heart go out to her even more when she painted a calm expression over her face and bowed slightly in his direction.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Quatre nodded. "I'll do everything that I can," he whispered back.
Everything…that I can do to heal your heart.
AN: Lucretzia and Milliardo were married sometime before this story took place. Lucretzia's friends, however, still call her Noin. I don't go into detail about their wedding in this story, maybe I will in another, though. I haven't decided yet.
