Chapter Two

Chapter Two

AN: I called the new world order the United Earth Sphere last time, but it's supposed to be the Earth Sphere United Nation. I've changed it in this chapter, so don't be confused if you see it. ^_^ I also wanted to thank all the people who reviewed the last chapter. The reviews were all very nice, and I was happy to get them.

Bird song floated through the gauzy white curtains of the room where Quatre was sleeping. His arms were wrapped around a pillow, face buried in the silk cover. He opened his eyes and stared at the midnight blue blanket tucked underneath his chin, listening to the sweet, piping melody and allowing the warmth of the bed to slowly bring his mind into wakefulness.

He ran his fingers through his pale bangs. "I'm getting married today."

He had known the exact date since last month, known the steps he was to perform since last week, and known that he did not want to go through with it since last night. The blankets seemed to bear down heavily upon his chest. He rolled over onto his back, arms stretched above his head, looking at the white ceiling that seemed as blank as his mind. He lay that way for several minutes, eyes flickering as the light flared and waned in the wake of the clouds that passed over the sun.

I shouldn't be so selfish.

He shoved the stifling covers away from him and stood up, shivering slightly as his feet touched the cold wooden floor. His outfit was waiting for him: coat, pants, and shirt laid out in neat order on the chest at the foot of the bed.

He shed his pajamas and left them in a heap on the floor, for once not worried about keeping the room tidy. Donning a crisp white dress shirt and soft white deerskin pants, he turned to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall.

He looked up, fastening his cuffs without once looking at his wrists.

"Here to watch the wedding?"

He watched Trowa's reflection as the thin young man sat on the cushioned window seat, the window open behind him, a slight breeze making the white curtains billow around his tuxedo-clad frame.

"I wouldn't miss it," he stated simply.

Quatre walked back to the chest, his eyes downcast. He wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't seen Trowa since the last war. He plucked a black cummerbund from the chest and fastened it around his waist.

"Are you staying?" he asked hesitantly. His heart constricted with both hope and anxiety.

"Yes." Trowa paused. "You'll both need guards now. Wufei and Sally have been making noises about being stationed here, also."

"Heero, too?"

Quatre's fingers rumpled the silk of his white coat as he pulled it on, his own knuckles white.

Trowa shook his head. "No one's heard from him since he left."

Quatre looked over Trowa's head, letting his eyes run over the green hills that were dotted with tiny copses of trees on the Earth Sphere United Nation estate. He drew a deep breath.

"Trowa I—"

Trowa got up quickly, the curtains that had been clinging to him falling away as he strode toward Quatre.

"Poor little rich boy," Trowa whispered, putting his hands on Quatre's shoulders. Quatre looked up sharply, his breath escaping in a hiss from his lips. Trowa leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Quatre's forehead. Quatre stood motionless. Trowa's breath ruffled his hair slightly; he could barely feel Trowa's lips.

"Your choices are never easy," Trowa murmured into Quatre's hair. Quatre sighed softly and had begun to lean into Trowa's embrace when Trowa straightened. He turned Quatre around and gently pushed him toward the door.

"Go," he said.

When Quatre glanced over his shoulder at the door, he saw Trowa's silhouette standing before the window. The light shifted, and for a moment, Quatre thought that he had seen the ghost of a smile lingering on Trowa's face.

Relena gazed in the mirror at the magnificent dress she was wearing. Three women scurried around her, straightening lace and arranging the train. All four of them were hidden from view in a big room off the hall leading to the chapel. Joyous music bounded through the halls of the church, clearly heard even in the bell tower, but barely reaching Relena's ears. Relena rubbed her ring finger on her left hand, wondering how it would feel when Quatre slipped the wedding band on. She shifted slightly, and the dress rustled around her feet.

She had to admit that it hadn't taken much persuasion for her to believe her attendants when they told her that she looked beautiful. A strand of pearls and small white roses adorned her hair, which fell loose to the middle of her back, falling softly over her bare shoulders. A thin lace veil fell to the small of her back; it hadn't yet been placed over her face. More pearls were embroidered in a narrow band around the top of the dress; poofy bands of white silk gauze circled her upper arms just below her shoulders. The bodice of the dress was tight, showing off her slender waist.

Relena hadn't been able to completely persuade the embroiderers not to put too much effort on the dress. They had spent days sewing a delicate pattern of birds singing on leafy branches in gold thread on the bodice. The skirt was long, trailing the ground several feet behind her. It was a beautiful ivory color that reminded Relena of the pieces of driftwood she had seen scattered on various beaches, bleached the color of snow by the sun and worn smooth by the ocean waves. It ended in a delicate trim of lace that had been made with care by a nobleman's wife who had presented it to Relena a week before in her rooms. She had curtsied deeply with tear-filled eyes when Relena accepted it and thanked her.

"It's time, Miss Relena," said one of her attendants, a young girl about eighteen years old. She giggled. "We won't be able to call you 'Miss' Relena for very much longer."

Relena tried to manage a soft smile for the girl, even as she felt the blood draining from her face. Her fingers trembled, and she clasped them in front of her, then moved them once more to restlessly smooth her dress.

"Hush, child," an older woman reprimanded the girl. "The poor girl is nervous enough as it is. You watch your tongue, or I'll have you out there in this wedding dress."

"I wouldn't mind it," said the third attendant, a young woman of about twenty, holding the veil in her hands. "Think of it—married to Quatre Raberba Winner!" She pulled the veil down smoothly over Relena's face. Then she turned to pluck a bouquet of red roses from a small table nearby. She handed them to Relena, beaming. Her warm hands clasped Relena's icy ones as she said, "You look absolutely beautiful. A true princess today, and tomorrow a queen!"

Relena dipped her head in a slow, deep nod. Then, feeling as though her knees would give out at any moment, she stepped off the podium she had been standing on and walked into the empty hall. Before her were two large oak doors, stained a deep ebony brown. Two men waited for her there, an attendant and her brother. The walls on either side of her were filled with dancing cherubim whose eyes sparkled at her, one minute the eyes of jubilant children, the next the blood filled eyes of savage beasts. Her feet carried her steadily closer to those doors while her mind trembled. Surely Milliardo and the other man could see her fear. She must be shivering with it. Surely when she got close enough they would be able to hear her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

Milliardo smiled at her as she drew closer. He held out his right arm for her to take. She reached out and almost stumbled to it, so anxious was she for something to support her.

The door opened.

Music whirled around her—the Wedding March. She and Milliardo began their stately walk down the aisle. Through her veil, Relena could see dozens of faces, haloed in misty white, staring at her. She could hear murmurs of amazement and appreciation floating toward her from all sides, filling her consciousness with a subtle roar, like snow tumbling down a steep mountainside.

The chapel, she saw as her eyes darted around it, was beautiful. The wooden walls were the same smooth, dark ebony as the doors. Scarlet curtains fell down the walls in wine-colored waterfalls to pool at the floor. Between each of the curtains was an exquisite stained-glass window, depicting scenes from the Bible in a full spectrum of colors. Above the windows were small, private balconies that were shrouded in shadow. At the end of the aisle, three steps rose to a large dais where the priest, garbed in white robes, waited behind the altar. Quatre waited for her at the base of the steps. Relena was too far away to discern his expression through the veil, but his face was turned toward her. Sunlight streamed in through one of the windows, this one depicting Jesus in heaven with a golden halo around his head. Quatre's hair was also alight with gold.

The bride's maids and the groom's men were arranged on the dais to either side of the podium. Noin, Sally, Hilde, and Iria wore ivory dresses similar to Relena's, though less opulent. They sparkled in their places as though they were jewels set with care into an already beautiful tapestry in order to make it shine just a little more. Across from them Wufei, Duo, and Rashid stood, looking somber in their black tuxedos.

They were drawing closer to the dais. It seemed as though Milliardo was carrying her along with him; she couldn't feel her legs moving. She felt so cold. She just wanted to wrap her arms around her bare shoulders and collapse in a heap on the floor. All those people were watching her. Their eyes were burning into her, making her stomach churn. Dazzling gray spots were welling up at the edges of her vision; she broke out in a cold sweat, fine tremors running down her arms.

I'm not going to make it. I'm going to faint right here.

Milliardo tightened his grip on her arm. She looked up at him. He was gazing at her with concern in his eyes. He looked forward again. She swallowed apprehensively, then she heard him humming softly. It was an old song, one that was popular before the war of 195. She remembered it being about something silly—a girl and her lover planning to fly away to the moon. She tried to remember the lyrics.

They may not understand what we know, baby.

Hearts may ache for the wrong reasons.

If this is forbidden love,

I'd gladly sink into Hell, just to be with you.

I need you.

But your spirit pulls me higher.

Soaring, dipping, tumbling love.

Now that we're together,

I know what I want for all eternity—

Take me to the moon.

Nausea crashed over her in a wave, the force of it stripping her soul bare of reason, leaving her feeling vulnerable.

Heero…

What she felt now, she couldn't put into coherent thoughts. The chaos in her heart was pulling at her, dragging her inexorably down into murky darkness. Her steps started to falter.

They were a few feet away from the dais when she looked up to see Quatre smiling at her.

An angel…he looks so joyful…

He held out his hand to her, his eyes gazing steadily at her face. Milliardo stopped, and Quatre walked toward her. She offered him her hand. When he took it and felt her trembling, his gaze filled with concern and an understanding that made her heart beat more steadily.

As he led her up the steps, he whispered softly, "It's all right. I won't let you fall."

Trowa leaned back against one wall of the balcony, one hand clutching the banister he was sitting on. The Wedding March had just ended; the bride and groom were in their places. The priest was beginning to speak, his powerful voice surging to the back of the chapel and soaring to the ceiling.

"Dearly beloved—we gather here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony."

"Bonds that last a lifetime," Trowa said bitterly, craning his head around to peer down upon the spectacle, his face half covered by the shadows in the balcony. Hundreds of guests were seated below him, sprawled in a plain of festive colors. The windows shed mercurial light over them that changed moment by moment, from cerulean to scarlet to emerald to gold. Two windows depicting scenes of heaven flanked those who stood on the dais.

Angels fly around them and the people shout their names to the heavens. There's no place in this for Nanashi.

So he had hidden himself in this dark refuge to watch as his love willingly sold himself to aid in the success of world peace.

This is necessary, and that's what makes it so hard to bear.

Trowa had spent the night watching Quatre sleep from the oak tree outside his window. Quatre had tossed in his bed for half the night. Then, at false dawn, his mouth lifted from the scowl it had been frozen in. Serenity stole over his features, softening them until he shone with child-like innocence. His arms wrapped around a pillow, he buried his face into it, and slept peacefully until morning. Trowa would have given anything if he could have been sure that he was the one Quatre had dreamt of that night.

As Trowa gazed down upon Quatre now, he felt rather than saw the same peace radiating from him. Trowa leaned farther over the balcony, wanting to bury himself in that peacefulness. It spoke to him of something instinctive on a spiritual level, some mysterious piece that all humans had been missing since the creation of the universe—until it had come to rest in one angelic boy. If only he could touch it…find out what it was. He reached out one slim, graceful hand.

"I do."

Trowa jerked his hand to his chest and sat back in the shadows.

Heero leaned against his couch in his London flat, clutching a pillow to his chest, his knees pulled up. He rested his chin on the pillow and watched with brooding eyes as Quatre and Relena stood with clasped hands before the altar. Milliardo had joined ranks with the other groom's men and was beaming at his little sister. Light spun into delicate strands of gold illuminated Relena and Quatre. The television camera moved smoothly toward them until Heero could see Quatre's face clearly. Quatre was looking at Relena with an expression that was half tenderness and half admiration. His thumbs rubbed little circles on the backs of Relena's hands. Heero thought for a moment that he saw a tremor run through them.

He felt like a thief, hiding there, countries away from his duty to Relena. Calling it duty was the only shackle that kept him chained in London. He wanted to steal her away from that chapel and hide her somewhere, in a haven for both of them. But living wasn't about taking what you wanted. The war had taught him that; Relena had taught him how to make living bearable. So far, they had both lived successfully. Now all he had to do was stay away from her. He could make things easier for himself that way.

His heart leapt into his throat as he saw her draw in a shuddering breath.

Could she—?

"Relena, what did I do?"

However, the moment had passed. Quatre was whispering to her. Her hands had stopped trembling, her breathing slowed.

It doesn't matter.

His eyes narrowed in the dark, and his fingernails dug into the pillowcase as he tried to unclench the icy fingers from around his heart.

"I do."

Heero growled low in his throat.

"Whosoever protests this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Trowa turned and swept from the balcony, making his way through the silent halls to the busy streets outside.

Heero stood and lunged toward the television, punching the power button off with a finger. He strode toward his bedroom; his fingers ripped the pillowcase without him realizing it.

Quatre slipped the ring on Relena's finger, clasping his warm hand over the cool band of gold until it warmed against Relena's skin. She sighed softly as she looked at it shining on her finger; it was the color of melted sunbeams and reminded her of the halo she had imagined earlier. Her shoulders felt lighter, and she almost cried with relief. She slipped his ring onto his finger and saw wonder dawning in his eyes.

He took the veil gently between his fingers and lifted it over her head. He stared into her eyes for a long moment after that; Relena felt that he was asking for her permission. She took a small step toward him, and he gathered her into his arms, bending his head until their foreheads almost touched. His lips brushed against hers, and the guests cheered. Relena felt stronger in his embrace, as if she had been floating away from herself like wisps of smoke carried away by the breeze, and he had called her back.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

In answer, she kissed him again, feeling his arms press her to him. The kiss deepened until the world was filled with light and the cheers of the multitude were drowned out.