Chapter Thirteen
I
He walked through the frozen-laughing masses alone, hands shoved into his pockets, face half-hidden by his long platinum hair. It briefly occurred to him as he walked that this was the first day since he had taken Lucrezia to the Sanq Kingdom that he had spent almost completely alone. The thought was strangely relieving.
Relena was unaware of his departure, as he had intended. He had not seen her since she had awakened him that morning to bid him to come to breakfast with her. Her insistent knocking on the door and calling for him had awakened Lucrezia as well, who had mumbled, as they retrieved their clothes, rather crossly, "What the hell is she thinking?" He still debated on whether or not he thought Relena truly did want him to choose between herself or Lucrezia, but regardless of that, Relena remained civil to her, courteous when necessary, which was more than could be said for her actions toward Zechs. She wanted something from him, some assurance that he did not know how to provide. Perhaps it was merely sympathy she desired from him. If that were the case, he could offer only silent commiseration.
He had at last grown accustomed to the change in her.
Relena had disappeared sometime after breakfast, and had returned early in the evening, saying nothing of her errand, according to the conversation he had overheard amongst a trio of servants. She had afterward locked herself within the confines of her royal chambers, refusing to come out even at his request.
His mind was haunted by thoughts of a letter he had once glimpsed lying upon her desk. He could not see it clearly within his mind, nor could he find a single reason for his subconscious insistence upon it. He tried in futility to forget about it.
Lucrezia had been called away soon after Relena to repeat to the kingdom's press on the recent return of the Preventer Organization's President to the Mars base. This had consumed most of her day, leaving her weary and in desperate need of sleep. Her pregnancy was now truly beginning to have an effect on her. She had been almost asleep on a sofa in the library when he had left. As he passed her she had mumbled groggily, without opening her eyes, "Where are you going?"
He had paused, only half-startled by her voice. "I need some air," he replied after a moment. What a pathetic response.
"Would you like me to wait for you?"
"No. You should rest."
She gave a slight nod and fell silent. He watched her for a few minutes, until he was sure she had fallen asleep. He whispered her name and when she failed to respond, he knelt before the sofa and, for a reason unknown even to himself he brushed her violet hair aside and kissed the side of her face. She stirred beside him, not as completely asleep as he had thought, and said, laughing softly, "Your affection is requited, my Prince."
And so he had left the palace, undaunted by the cold air and the sighing wind that seemed to have plagued the northern regions of the kingdom for the past few days. The weather was not so foreboding here, however. It was often said that the merchant district of Newport never slept, and at the moment he desired nothing more than the anonymity of such a place. The hour was now drawing near to midnight and still the district was alive and bustling, burning with the light of hundreds of lamps and lanterns, ringing with the intermingled sounds of a multitude of simultaneous conversations and laughter. He was able to blend in perfectly here, despite his signature expressionless face, despite his name, his title. Even his long, pale hair was not a distinctive feature here; he was hardly the only man in the kingdom, in the city even, who wore his hair in this manner, though the others had waned considerably since the kingdom's second collapse in AC 195. During the rise of the Peacecraft monarchy, five generations before the current Queen, the first of the family's rulers had grown his hair to his waist in order to both oppose and mock military regulations. This single act had become a trend amongst the people of the kingdom and surrounding pacifist nations, and although by the time his father had assumed the throne the old military standards were no longer in effect, it had continued as a tradition. He seemed only another follower of that old tradition now, simply another face in a crowd of thousands.
Alone again, as it seemed he always was. Alone although he was surrounded completely by thousands of people. Unknown, unnamed, a prince without a title. The utter solitude comforted him, provided him with a solace that he could find nowhere else. Not even held within the warm, sweet embrace of Lucrezia's arms had he been able to find this, for even as they lay together in that act which they knew only with each other, he had been aware, as his hand rest gently over her abdomen where his child grew within her, of how much he had hurt her in the past, of how much he could still hurt her regardless of what he felt for her. Alone he could hurt no one. Lucrezia. Relena. The child that would be given to him and Lucrezia if no further complication arose. The people of the kingdom, the Earth, the colonies. He could cause no harm to any of them in this self-imposed isolation. He no longer had to act as a soldier; he no longer had to act as a prince. He had only to act as some nameless vagrant, unrecognized, unimportant. Simply another war-scarred fool waiting to die.
He found himself thinking of his days at Lake Victoria, of the nights in which he had discreetly left the grounds and wandered into the surrounding forests, in order to further isolate himself from the constant presence of warfare. This had already become a routine with him by the time he had entered the academy; living in the German estate of Treize Kushrenada's wealthy, disillusioned family, he had often, to Treize's knowledge, left the house at night for the same reasons. He had always found it easier to leave than to press on with his efforts. It had been easier for him to leave Relena in a safe place and leave the kingdom on foot the night of their parents' assassination than to remain there, and that was only at the age of six years. He had only become weaker as the years progressed.
I still haven't acknowledged that I'm one of the weak people.
Will you ever? he often wondered of himself. Will you ever truly acknowledge it, or will you continue fighting under the guise of one who is strong?
The answer was simple and instant. He would continue fighting under a proverbial mask until it seemed that he was no longer needed, perhaps in some faraway time of peace. It was indeed easier for him to continue and avoid transition than to pursue one.
A distant chime tolled the hour of midnight. Soon he would have to return to the palace, to all the reminders of all the pain he had inflicted in these most recent years. He would always return, as a dog to its own vomited waste, to the blood he had shed.
However, he would not return yet. He would allow Lucrezia to sleep a while longer, free from his worrisome presence, would allow Relena to carry on with her private endeavors that she would tell none about but in which she nonetheless desired his assistance. Sometimes he wondered when they would finally come to see that he was nothing more than a burden to them, really, often a willing one, because ultimately, he was too selfish not to be. It was his own selfishness that had brought him back to Lucrezia over the years after every mission that had separated them; his own selfishness that had enabled him to allow her to always place second in the academy, leaving him as the top student; his own selfishness and perhaps nothing more than that, for he hadn't been able to stop her from losing to him every time, for fear that if he did, it would lead to their separation. It was because of his own selfishness that he had asked her to leave the academy to fight those who would become their allies with him. It was through his own selfishness that he had asked her to come to Mars with him. And it was through his own selfishness that he could not leave Relena to fend for herself, though he knew that would probably be in her best interest. He had loved them both for too long to ever permanently and completely leave them.
Or perhaps these thoughts were only phantoms of the guilt that plagued his mind, and the underlying fear that he had endangered them all.
He had inadvertently begun to disassociate himself from Treize's organization since the discovery in Austria, and he feared that Treize was beginning to become suspicious of him. The messages sent from Thessaloníki had become vague and nondescript, almost utterly uninformative, and he had not been summonsed to the base since he had been asked to test the Gemini, two days prior to the Austrian incident. He had spoken briefly of this development — or, rather, lack of development — to Lucrezia and to Odin Lowe, and both of them, one showing concern and the other not, both in their respective manners, had advised him to exercise extreme caution. It was through exercising caution that he had raised the organization's suspicions, but he told neither of them this.
You stole my redemption, you princely bastard. Odin Lowe's first words to him.
"It seems I have made quite a habit of that over the years, doesn't it," he mumbled to himself as he pressed on through the crowd, unnoticed by any as he walked, a lone prince desiring exile. How many times had he stolen the redemption of a person who was as nameless and irrelevant to him as he was to these people, as Odin had been to him before that long ago evening? How many of the lives had he taken in the past could have gone on to accomplish something, even if only for themselves? How many lives had he ended, how many families had he destroyed, as his own had been so many years ago? How many times had he killed Relena? Lucrezia? How many times had created another Milliardo Peacecraft?
He had stolen their redemption, yes, staining his hands in their blood, drinking it down like a wine that could never truly quench his unholy thirst, but perhaps he had bestowed clemency upon all those whose lives he had taken, for he could do nothing more to harm any of them. The ones whose lives he had only ruined were still being hurt by him. Relena could not stand upon her own two queenly feet when it came to matters of the kingdom as long as he was around. She would have been better off had he never reentered her life, if he would have allowed himself to see her personally only once, when she had been taken hostage the first of several times at the age of eleven. If he hadn't been so damned selfish, perhaps he could have allowed himself that one singular encounter and there ended his involvement with the princess.
My dear little sister, he thought, smiling slightly to himself, you were given too much to carry upon your shoulders much too soon.
And Lucrezia, if he had never come back into her life after the Eve Wars, where would she have been now? Still on the colonies, trying again to find her new identity? Or perhaps she would have returned to Italy, her native country, although she accredited the Sanq Kingdom as such. Perhaps she would have even reclaimed her title, which she had forsaken as defiantly as he had forsaken his. She would never be able to truly carry on with her life as long as he was there. She would forever feel obligated to him, he supposed, obligated because of what she felt for him. Was that all love and emotion were, then, mere obligation? If so, then perhaps it would be better if all the lost remnants of war never felt it.
He continued to steal their redemption from them, a psychological vampire with all the inner desperation of a child. They were better off without him, but he could not say the same for himself. He was powerless to do anything without their respective presences in his life.
You can't stand to be without someone or something to fight for, can you, Marquise?
Odin's voice haunting him now as Treize's once did. Both of them, it seemed, were able to read into him perfectly. Zechs paused before the entrance of an alleyway, withdrew his hands from his pockets. They were gloved, just as they almost always were.
Are your hands scarred, Marquise?
Excuse me?
Were your hands ever scarred in battle?
Why do you ask?
Because I haven't yet learned whether you always keep them covered in order to conceal some rather noticeable scar or if it is for another reason.
What would that other reason be?
While we kept you when you were in a coma, I never noticed any scars. Why do you keep them covered?
He turned and looked at Odin, unsure of how to answer. In truth he had never considered this.
Is it possible, Marquise, that subconsciously you are trying to hide your eyes from seeing all the metaphorical blood that you think your hands are bathed in?
Of course it was possible. It was even probable. And most likely, it was even correct.
He peeled one white glove from his hands, then tentatively removed the other. The revealed flesh was smooth and pale, unmarred. A visible lie.
He put the gloves back on. It was almost a subconscious action.
As he moved to step back out into the crowd, a hand clamped on his shoulder from behind, pulling him into the darkness of the alleyway. Too late, drugged by his self-indulgent reveries of guilt, he realized what was happening, but before he could move his assailant succeeded in pulling him to the ground. The breath was knocked out of him as his back met the hard-packed earth, and, seeing his weakness, his assailant fell atop him, pinning him to the ground.
"Marquise," his assailant whispered hoarsely, and gave a soft laugh. His face, a ghastly sight in the darkness, was half-illuminated by the lights of the populated quarter, and after a moment of studying it, as if the out-of-place British voice were not enough, Zechs recognized the man as the one he had come within an inch of killing in Vólos, the computer analyst who worked devotedly for the counteroffensive while serving under Treize Kushrenada.
His surprise was displayed in a blink.
Rhyn laughed again. "With that hair of yours, love, I thought it would be you. Either you or a beautiful woman, and I'm a bit disappointed now." He looked Zechs over and smiled. "But you're quite pretty yourself, I'll admit. What do you say, love? Give us a kiss!" He lunged forward and planted his lips firmly on Zechs's cheek. His eyes widened and he gave another smile (what had happened to him?) and reached down below Zechs's waist. "Is that a gun in your coat pocket, love, or are you just very happy to see me?" He quickly plucked the gun from Zechs's pocket and feigned an expression of disappointment. Then, shrugging, he smiled again and said, "Takes more than a quick nudge to get you excited, does it? Maybe we can remedy that later."
"Get off me," Zechs grunted, pushing the younger man away. The light fell full on his face and again Zechs blinked, appalled by what had been done to him.
Rhyn's sweetly handsome face was almost completely unrecognizable, beaten and cut by God-only-knew whom and with what to such an extent that even Zechs found it horrifying. There was a long gash in his forehead, crimson and swollen, bruised and appearing too fresh to have been properly treated. Both of his eyes were ringed in black, one shot with blood and the other nearly swollen shut, and his lips were split and parched. The sides of his face were mottled with bruises, and atop it all, his hair clung to his scalp in tangled, blood-matted clumps.
Rhyn noticed Zechs's examination of him, and this seemed to somber him. "My face took the worst of it," he mumbled, briefly lowering his eyes. "Herr chief inquisitor ensured of that." He looked back up at Zechs and smiled. "I think he was afraid that with my astounding Liverpudlian looks someone else would take a fancy to me and not leave him any. I always blocked my throat, though," he ended strangely, laughing again but less merrily this time, as though the thought of all he had endured at the hands of the officers in Germany were enough to disturb even him. Finally he got to his feet and said, "Well, love, are you going to give me some assistance or should I start walking?" He eyed Zechs almost warily for a moment. "You still don't trust me, do you, Marquise? I could say the same in regard to yourself, love, but Odin seems to trust you well enough, and so therefore I do as well. We can't very well get anything done if we all think like this toward each other, now, can we? Didn't think so. Now come on, love, get up and get me the hell out of here. I've gotten enough strange looks just trying to get here, and I would appreciate not receiving any more."
Zechs watched him a moment longer, then wordlessly rose from the ground and took his gun out of Rhyn's careless hand. As they walked toward the opposite end of the alleyway, where it opened into an empty residential street, Rhyn remarked, "That was fun and all, but I think I like it with you on top better."
II
"You didn't walk here from the palace, did you? Cold as it is."
Zechs did not even regard him with a glance. "No."
"Good. I don't think I can keep walking much longer."
Zechs put an arm across the younger man's back to steady him. They had gone two miles from the lights and crowds of the merchant district, and within the past few minutes Rhyn had begun to stumble, faltering on his battered legs and almost collapsing more than once. His sense of humor had not seemed to wane, however, and as Zechs held him up while pulling him along — much like Odin had been forced to do for him two nights ago — he waited to hear another coarse sexual innuendo.
Rhyn supplied it gladly, though his voice was becoming as weak as his legs. "Imagine what people would think if they were to see us like this, love. Here we are, two men walking alone together on a beautiful winter's night such as this, and you don't even have the decency to kiss me. What would they say . . ." He stumbled again and Zechs caught him, not having the chance to feel awkward at the latest remark. He did wonder, however, if Treize had been made aware of Rhyn's strange sense of humor, then looking again at the boy's face and knowing that Treize had been in Germany at the time that he was taken into custody, he assumed that Treize had been given the opportunity to learn of it personally. "How soon can we be in Vólos?" Rhyn asked, learning on Zechs now. He really wasn't going to be able to walk much longer.
Zechs tightened his grip on him to prevent him from falling. "We're not going to Vólos."
Rhyn pushed onward, breathing almost laboriously as though he were beginning to contract a cold again. After a moment he said, "Odin told me he would have to restrict contact with you to within the boundaries of the kingdom soon. When did this happen?"
"After the incident in Austria."
Rhyn gave a soft laugh. "Sounds about right. You received a warning after it and I received another beating. It would have been worse if they could have proven I had helped to orchestrate it." He thought for a moment, then added, "I don't think it was any us who did it. It wouldn't have mattered how they worked to hide it, if it had been anyone within the counteroffensive either Odin or Yuan-Chen would have known. They wouldn't have allowed it."
Zechs blinked at the mention of Yuan-Chen's name. "Xing?" he asked, referring to the surname of the one Odin had mentioned.
Rhyn raised an eyebrow. "Yuan-Chen, you mean? Has he come to Vólos already?"
"No."
"He will soon then, after what they did in Austria. Treize will have to act soon now, and we have to be ready to act too. Has Odin mentioned the Sagittarius's development?"
"I thought it was complete."
"It is, but we're awaiting one last detail. It would have been impossible if I had been found out sooner."
Zechs gave him in inquisitive expression.
"I made a copy of the program of the Gemini's cockpit system in Germany and had it sent to Odin the night before I was arrested. Gave it to one of the officers who works for Odin, too. He left the base with it that night. Did he make it to Vólos?"
"I don't know."
"Ah, yes, your business when it comes to the mobile suits is the Gundam, isn't it? The Epyon. Were you pleased with its reconstruction?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I was one of those who headed it."
Zechs looked at him.
Rhyn smiled. "I'm a constant source of amazement, aren't I, Marquise? If you promise not to pull a gun on me again, I'll give you some real amazement once this business is done and over with." He quickly delivered a kiss to the side of Zechs's face. Zechs blinked but did not release him, knowing that if he did the perverse Brit would collapse.
"Where are we going, then," Rhyn asked, "if not to Vólos?"
"The only place I can take you is the palace. You can contact Odin there."
"Yuan-Chen too," he said sleepily, sounding very much like a child, and he followed this with a yawn. "I should notify him too. He's probably already written me off for dead." He fell silent, walked on, guided by Zechs. "Yuan-Chen was my tutor in Liverpool when I was a boy," he said after several minutes had passed. "Tried to rob him, I did. Wasn't successful, though. He all but tore my hand from my wrist, and I never even saw him move. My parents were both killed by the Alliance bigots of the Cosmos Arm. My father died in an air raid, and Mum was arrested by the Arm about a month later. I never saw her again. I don't even know what happened to her. She's dead, I know that, but I don't when or how or what she had to go through before. Have you ever heard the name Sakura Hanasaki, Marquise?"
Zechs started to reply 'no,' stopped. He remembered the picture he had found in Vólos, the one that had for one brief moment elicited an emotion from Odin; the face of the Japanese woman with hair like the wings of a raven, with eyes that seemed to hold knowledge of every aspect of the universe.
"You probably haven't," Rhyn continued without receiving a response. His voice was heavily slurred now, and his thick Liverpudlian accent all but made his words unintelligible. "She died in AC 185. You might find her a bit interesting, though. She was the King Peacecraft of the other side of the globe. Some hailed her as the next Heero Yuy. She began a series of protests in Japan in opposition of the Alliance's hold over the colonies and the Earth, specifically the Cosmos Arm. Had some real opposition to the Arm, she did. People came from all over the world and even the colonies to join her. She was the mother of Takeru Hanasaki, who disappeared immediately following her death and later emerged as" — his voice fell to unintelligible mumbling — "the pilot. You're familiar with that name, I'm sure. My parents were some of those who went to her. Took me with them, they did. It was beautiful over there, Marquise, so…so very beautiful. I know now, knew then actually, why he felt called to go there. Odin, I mean. God only knows how long Yuan-Chen had been there. And she was so powerful. You could see that in her at first glance. I was only a child and I saw it. Strength of the mountain was within her, they said. It's no wonder that he loved her so, of course don't let Odin know I told you that he did. He doesn't talk about it, but by the way the others did — the others at the temple, I mean, when I went there for a year or so once — I think she must have loved him as he loved her. But anyway, my parents fled with me right after she died. We went back to Liverpool, but the Arm was not satisfied with her death alone, and that same year they came after all who were on record as having had contact with her. Air raid killed my father. They arrested mum, and I hid in the alley behind our house until they were gone. I was too young to do anything to stop them.
"Yuan-Chen and I had met briefly in Japan. He was a friend of the woman, Sakura. God only knows how he made it out of there alive. He came to England a few years later, after I had learned the basic rules of survival for any orphan of the Alliance. Traveling the world, he was. Our paths crossed just on the south of Liverpool. I saw him only from behind at first, an old man with long gray pulled and tied into a thin tail, walking alone on such streets that were widely known to be dangerous. I tried to take from him whatever he might have and in less than a full instant he had my arm, and my hand was near torn off my wrist before his eyes had ever shifted toward me. Didn't even see him move. 'Rhyn Tolkien,' he says to me, and he smiles as though he hadn't just caught me trying to rob him of his eyes if I had to. I was eleven years old then, and I hadn't yet killed a man, but I was willing if need arose. 'Of all the people in the world and space, to find you here is something I would never in all my many years have imagined.' Of course that wasn't how he said it, but it's close enough, I suppose. Said he didn't believe in coincidence. I recognized him immediately despite how long it had been since last I had seen him. He–" Rhyn stumbled and almost fell again. Zechs put his arm fully about the younger man's shoulders, and Rhyn put his own arm about Zechs's waist, not as a humorous gesture but rather to stabilize himself.
After they had progressed a few more yards, Rhyn, now silent and yawning, the car Zechs had driven from the palace became visible. Rhyn let out a heavy sigh of relief and said, "Marquise, if you always insist on parking this far away, I pity your Miss Noin when she has the baby. I don't imagine a pregnant woman going into labor would enjoy walking so far to a hospital."
Blink.
"We heard that one all the way up there in Germany. It was reported that rather than come to Thessaloníki as you were told to you left Earth in quite a rush without sending a message of explanation. A group of officers was sent after you, and they managed to enamor the men at the palace's private space harbor in conversation about the returned Prince enough that one of them, thinking nothing of it, of course, let it slip that the Prince had just recently left for the Mars colony. Apparently he mentioned something about the hospital up there, for rather than follow you, love, which, by the way, I would do all the way to the Neptune, if Mars weren't closer and Uranus a bit too provocative for my taste, they returned to the base and managed to hack into that particular hospital's files, where they learned that one Miss Lucrezia Noin had been brought in and was discovered to be pregnant. I'd heard you mention her name before in Vólos right after that pleasant little romp on the floor in front of Odin, so when I overheard the guards in Germany talking about it, I put two and three together and made four, and you must have done something right because according to this conversation amongst fools that I heard, this Miss Noin has always taken a fancy to you and you're the only one that–"
"I understand your point," Zechs interjected.
They reached the car. Zechs had to lower Rhyn into the passenger seat for his strength was nearly depleted by then. "I suppose I'm to stay the rest of the night there," Rhyn said once Zechs had started the car.
"You may stay as long as necessary."
"You don't like me, do you, Marquise? I know you don't trust me, but you can distrust someone and still like them all the same, but you don't do either, do you? You haven't liked me since the episode with the tissue. Fairly rude of you, I might say. They say you need a sense of humor to make it in this life and I believe that, and if it's true then by all rights you should be dead right now."
Zechs grunted. "By all rights I should have been dead at the age of six."
Rhyn feigned a gasp. "My, is that some repressed emotion there, Marquise? You should do that more often. But tell me, love, why don't you like me? Is it because you still think I'm an idiot? You've no reason to think that now, if you were really that pleased with the Epyon. I don't understand you people, I really don't." After another moment he added, "What are the chances I could get something to eat at the palace? Doesn't matter what, really. I haven't eaten in three days. Haven't slept for longer than that. It's a wonder I didn't crash their bloody plane."
Zechs raised an eyebrow.
"You haven't even asked me how I escaped the clutches of Herr Chief Inquisitor yet. What so funny about it is I don't even know myself. It was late just the other night and I heard from my quaint little cell a noise like the beginnings of a fight. Ended rather quickly, though. Next thing I knew my door is being unlocked and when it opens there stands a man like no on else I'd ever seen at the base. Dressed all in black, he is, and a bit taller than yourself, love, and his head was covered completely, including most of his face. 'Odin doesn't know I've done this,' he said, and he told me to come out of the cell. I did as best I could — if you think I'm in bad shape now you should've seen me then — and I saw that the guard had been knocked out. The man led me through the prisoners' ward of the base and out through a passageway I'd never been aware of, and he takes me down to where the hangars are. He said he could not go on with me, but I was to take one of the planes to get as far from Germany as I could 'Find someone who can tend to your wounds,' he said, because the organization would be looking for me and no hospital would be out of its reach. I did as he told me. I wanted to get to Vólos, but the plane had only enough fuel for the mountains around the kingdom. That was all right, though. It'll take them longer to find it now. I decided to try to make it to Newport, to the palace, but call it a miracle or whatever you will, when I reached this area, I caught sight of the lovely Prince I was looking for. I don't believe in coincidences, love. If you regret me finding you, you'll have to take it up with the powers that be. I had to follow you a while, though. Didn't want to get your attention in public, not looking like this. Would've drawn too much attention, it would." His rambling voice trailed off, slurred with sleep. The last words Zechs was able to derive from his speech were 'the voice sounded like his,' and then at last Rhyn gave in to the much-needed slumber that had been trying to take him for so long now.
Zechs did not display his relief.
After he had driven in silence for a while, he became aware that Rhyn was mumbling to himself. He looked at the younger man and saw that he was indeed still sleeping. His voice became a slight degree louder as he went on, and Zechs realized that he was not talking in his sleep, but rather was singing. His voice was soft still but intelligible, and Zechs recognized the words immediately.
"…benedicta tu in mulieribus,
Et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus…"
His hands froze on the steering wheel. It was perhaps best that this happened, for they were suddenly trembling.
Glimmer of silver in the candlelight. Click-click of the beads.
Luca's voice, soft, whispering. Her hand touching his, pressing the beads into it.
My prince, please.
Rhyn's voice of only a few minutes ago: I don't believe in coincidence, love.
Rhyn continued singing quietly to himself as he slept, peacefully unaware that beside him Zechs looked as if he had glimpsed a ghost. His voice was undeniably rather pleasant despite his often crude speech, and had Zechs not been so shaken by the words which he sang and the memory of the one thing request had not been enough to convince him to impart to Odin, he would have found it utterly beautiful. He sounded quite like a young boy as he sang at this quiet volume, though his pitch and timbre were that of a man, and if the era had allowed it and he not have been a soldier, he could easily have been a prominent member of a professional choir.
"Sancta Maria, Mater Dei…"
"Ora por nobis nunc et in hora mortis nostrae," Zechs finished in a monotonous whisper, while the other man sang it. It had been years since he had heard so much as a line of it, but the night of the glimmer of silver and the clicking beads, the night when in Florence he had for the first time seen the girl as the fallen Baroness Lucrezia rather than Cadet Noin, had burned it forever into his memory.
Rhyn quietly sang the prayer to himself again, then moved on to another. The words were distinctly Latin, but they struck no chord in Zechs's mind.
He fell silent when they were only a few minutes from the entrance to the palace. He slept on until they were at the gates, and awoke when the car stopped.
He surveyed his new surroundings in something like an awed silence, then he noticed Zechs looking at him.
"What's wrong, love? You're looking at me rather strangely and I wouldn't exactly call those bedroom eyes you're putting on, so what is it? Did I talk in my sleep?" Despite his comment, he sounded almost embarrassed.
"You were singing," Zechs said pointedly.
"Oh." Rhyn looked away sheepishly. "Sorry if I disturbed you."
"No. You sounded rather nice."
"Did I? Well, that's the Liverpudlian songbird in me. My mum always sang to me when I was a boy. She'd been a singer when she was young, an opera singer, I mean, and she taught me a few things. I was trained in opera professionally for a few years. Made a good living off it, I did." He sat up higher in the seat as Zechs watched him in repressed shock that this strange, coarse young man had once been a professional opera singer. "So love, are we going to have a go at it in the backseat or were you going to express your love for me properly in one of the luxurious beds in your not-so-humble palace?"
Zechs grunted and got out of the car. Rhyn started to get out and could not, and it was soon clear that Zechs would have to assist him.
"Aren't you going to carry me across the threshold, love?" he asked when Zechs stopped to enter the code that would open the gate.
He said nothing and pulled the wounded Liverpudlian through the gateway with him.
A light flickered on in the palace near the reception hall. Either Lucrezia or Pagan, he supposed, most likely the latter. He doubted that Relena had yet come out of her locked chambers.
Pagan opened the door when they were still a few yards away from it. Lucrezia appeared behind him, her face looking rested now and calm despite the scene she looked upon.
She brushed past Pagan and ran down the stone walkway, oblivious, it seemed, to the hard chill that hung in the air around the palace. A testament to growing coldness of its Queen.
"Give him to me," she said when she reached them, and before Zechs could protest she took Rhyn from him. He was barely any heavier than she and she lifted him easily. The Brit laughed and threw his arms about her neck.
"Now this is the proper way to do it," he said, loudly enough to wake the dead as well as every peacefully sleeping citizen of the kingdom, Zechs thought. "Are you sure you don't want me to carry you over the threshold, love? You being pregnant and all, this can't be good for you. That is, I'm assuming you're Miss Noin since your resemblance to her is quite striking and likewise I'm assuming that Marquise over there is indeed the proud papa Peacecraft to be, though I'm rather curious about that one as our cowering Crown Prince seems a bit too full of himself to fill anyone else if you get what I'm–"
"You're Rhyn, aren't you?"
The Brit laughed and planted a firm kiss on her cheek. "Has the lovely Marquise told you about me?"
"Something like that," she replied, exchanging an amused glance with Zechs.
"Did he tell you that he almost committed murder upon my once-desirable body because I reached for a tissue?"
"I believe he mentioned something about it." She turned to carry his ecstatic form through the doorway.
"Are there girls here?" he asked as Lucrezia set him back on his feet once inside the alcove before the servants' quarters. "I know there's a Queen and all that, but is there anyone not quite so in the public eye as to enable them to engage in a scandalous affair or two?"
Pagan, smiling, shook his head as though at the antics of a young child.
"Your presence here is scandalous enough as it is," Zechs said quietly, though to what avail he didn't know, for Rhyn's loud voice had already carried all throughout the corridor, perhaps awakening the entire staff.
Rhyn feigned a disappointed expression and looked pitifully at Lucrezia. "He really doesn't like me all that much, love. He's had it in for me ever since the little tissue incident."
They guided Rhyn through the servants' halls, out into the main parlor of the palace without incident. Lucrezia glanced at Zechs often, and when at last Rhyn's battered head was turned in the opposite direction, he mouthed silently that he would explain later.
Rhyn was allowed to stop and rest in the parlor for a few minutes, then without hesitation or consideration Lucrezia turned him down another corridor.
"I've learned over the years not to question events surrounding you," Pagan said before Zechs followed after them, "but I must admit, Sir, that I am quite curious about this one."
He found them in one of the palace's largest bathrooms. Rhyn, it seemed, whose voice Zechs could hear chattering from the parlor, had been instructed to sit on the marble edge of en elegant bathtub, while Lucrezia saw to cleaning his wounds.
He paused momentarily to reflect on how wonderful she would have been in the medical field, had she only chosen that instead of the life and career of a soldier when circumstances, almost simultaneously with those of his own life, had forced her into an active role in warfare.
He stepped into the bathroom and stood by the doorway. Rhyn saved him the trouble of explaining their reunion in the alleyway and the events leading to it by informing Lucrezia of them as she washed his face, paying special attention to his numerous cuts. Lucrezia nodded often and smiled whenever Rhyn made another colorful statement about either her or Zechs, not offended as he had briefly feared she might be, and after she had bandaged his open wounds and examined his bruised chest and back as well as his face, he was given a handheld mirror.
He stared into it for a long while before speaking, unsmiling, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied his reflection. In those moments Zechs thought that this was the only thing that could sober him as earlier only sleep had.
Finally, he looked up at them and said, "I kind of like it. Gives me a dangerous edge, don't you think?"
A rustling from beyond the doorway halted any relieved reply. They all turned, Zechs expecting to see Pagan or perhaps another servant. He could barely stifle the surprised expression that threatened to come over his face when he saw who it was, and on Lucrezia's face he saw a similar expression.
It was Rhyn who spoke first.
"Your Majesty," he said with a reverence that was not at all false. "I would bow or curtsy or something of the like, but Miss Noin told me not to move and she has not yet told me any differently."
Relena gave a curt smile. She was dressed in the same white raiment that had adorned her divine figure that morning, but her hair had been let down and her eyes were hard and set, and stained red as though from an earlier hour spent crying.
She took another single step into the room, glancing once to Zechs. "I heard something outside," she stated dully as her explanation for finding them. "What is this, Milliardo?"
"This," Rhyn said dramatically, jumping up and bending in an exaggerated bow that must have hurt him, "is one Sir Rhyn Tolkien, formerly of Liverpool as you can most likely tell from my sensuous voice, and guest of the Prince. I apologize for my appearance at the moment — normally I'm quite a wondrous looking creature — but I've recently been imprisoned in Germany, and you know how a few hundred years ago they were the ones who put up places like Auschwitz and whatnot so that should be explanatory in itself."
Relena stood silent, unsmiling, rigid as a monarch of old. After some time she blinked as though returning from some deep reverie and, stepping forward again she asked, "You're an acquaintance of my brother?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, though the lovely Prince might say differently. You have my deepest not-quite-so-humble apologies for my intrusion."
At last Relena smiled. "If you are an acquaintance of my brother you are welcome here, and you may call me Relena."
Rhyn looked at Zechs. "Seems we're already on a first name basis then. Marquise and I aren't even that far yet." He winked and turned back to Relena. "So I have the Queen's permission to stay here, then? That and the Prince's command."
Relena nodded. "Pagan has returned to his chambers. I'll find a room for you."
With that she pivoted and departed. Zechs's eyes followed her, and he caught a brief peripheral glimpse of Lucrezia's questioning expression.
"Is she going to be all right?" Rhyn asked after a moment, perhaps sensing that something was wrong with the Queen, perhaps knowing on some more somber level that this was not the young woman with whom the people of Earth and space had fallen in love years ago.
Lucrezia nodded and gave the younger man a cordial smile. "She has a lot placed upon her shoulders right now, but yes, in time she will be."
Rhyn considered this for a moment in a rare serious manner, then shattered his own solemnity by saying, "Good, because I'd hate see someone with a pole up his ass like our Marquise here have to take her place."
Lucrezia stifled a laugh. She needed something to laugh about, Zechs supposed, and if she were provided with something at his expense, he was grateful for it.
Lucrezia assisted Rhyn in putting his shirt back on, promising to find a change of clothes for him by morning. No sooner had she dressed him and in return received a quick kiss, when Relena again appeared silently in the doorway.
"I have your rooms ready for your use now," she said, then looking at Zechs she added, "I want to speak to you about this in the morning, Milliardo."
He nodded.
"I need to contact Odin first," Rhyn informed her, as though she knew who Odin was. "And Yuan-Chen too. He must be quite worried about me, even though I've never really seen him worried about anything before, what with my supposed death and all. And Marguerite, too."
Lucrezia flashed him the expression of a physician who has just been informed that a patient is about to walk out of a hospital an hour after undergoing heart surgery. "You shouldn't even be thinking of that now."
"But–"
"We'll take care of it. All you need to worry about right now is getting some rest."
Surprisingly, he gave no further protest.
He stood shakily and went toward the melancholy queen. Relena gave a curt farewell to Zechs and Lucrezia and, without a further word, escorted him into the hall.
They were left looking at each other wearily, unable to speak for several slow minutes. Finally Lucrezia took his hand and whispered softly, "Let's go to bed."
III
Rhyn remained almost completely silent as he followed her through the dark corridors, and when he did speak, it was none of his former dramatic rambling. She didn't ask how he knew her brother or why he had been brought here; she didn't care anymore. Besides, she feared she already knew.
Of course, Milliardo was unaware of this.
"Here," she said quietly, stopping him in front of his rooms on the third floor. "This is it."
"You're quite a morose dear, aren't you, Majesty-love?" he asked, but in surprisingly solemn tone.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you really that unaware of it? The whole world outside these walls knows that something is wrong with the lovely Queen of Sanq. If you wanted to become so depressed, love, you shouldn't have become such a public figure."
She met his eyes and he smiled.
"Your brother is quite concerned about you."
"Has he told you this?"
"He doesn't have to. Anyone who knows him at all can tell it. He sacrificed most of his life for you, you know. You can isolate yourself from the rest of the world, Your Majesty, but don't isolate yourself from him."
Her eyes fell away from his. She was beginning to regret personally escorting this stranger who seemed able to read into her too well to his room.
He caught her wrist. "Relena."
"Yes?"
"I won't tell him about your involvement in these affairs. That's your place. But you must tell him."
"I don't understand." Oh, but didn't she understand? Didn't she?
"Do I have to spell it out and throw it all up into your face before you'll admit to it? Tell me, love, why do you think I was imprisoned in Germany? What have I done?"
She tried to pull away from him. "I don't kn–"
"Just tell me what his name is. Who was my imprisonment under?"
"Please don't–"
"Listen to me, Your Majesty! Your kingdom is at stake here, not mine. I have nowhere to go. I do this for your sake and for the sake of your kingdom, not my own. You know what's going on here. You've known almost ever since it began, you suspected it and sometime after your resignation as Vice Foreign Minister you found out it's true. When did he come to you?"
"Who?"
His eyes flashed. "Treize Kushrenada! When did he come to you? I know that he did. What did he do to make you succumb to him? What did he do to make you hide what he's done?"
"You've no right to–"
"You've no right to allow your people to die! Do you think he'll be satisfied with Sanq? Do you really think he will be? The Sanq Kingdom will only be the first to fall and with it will fall the colonies! You have enough power to try to stop all of this. Why are you helping him?"
Something warm rolled down her face. "Don't tell me any of these things."
His voice softened. His hand left her wrist and brushed against her face in a concerned gesture. "The counteroffensive is designing a new type of system for the mobile suits, at the base in Spain. The system is unlike any other. Rather than affect the pilot, it affects the enemy suit."
"You shouldn't tell me this," she said. Her voice quivered like a torn flower in a high eastern wind. "You shouldn't…you shouldn't trust me with this."
Rhyn smiled warmly. "His name, the leader of the counteroffensive, is Odin Lowe. Treize knows this but most of the others don't. I trust you with this. Your brother is, as you suspect, part of the counteroffensive, one of its highest members. You must withdraw your support of Treize."
"I'm not supporting him," she protested, too loudly, too desperately. "I've never supported him."
"But you allowed him to manipulate you into acquiescing while he gains an army."
"I didn't know–"
"Of course you didn't know," he said, his voice softening even more. "Do you really take Treize for such an idiot? Do you take your brother as one for that matter? Treize needed you for whatever ungodly reason and Marquise-love is making a futile attempt to protect you. Do you really not understand this, Your Majesty?"
She was weeping now, she realized unable to stop the tears. A loud sob escaped her lips. "Is this why you've come here?" she asked finally.
He shook his head and smiled again. Despite the numerous injuries that had been inflicted upon his face, his smile provided her with a glimpse of the boyish innocence his face had once possessed. "No," he said, "I came here for free lodgings and perhaps even a nice nap preceded and/or followed by a nice lay. Now, you're not quite as pretty as your brother but you're nice-looking enough. Take me to bed!"
This halted her tears as nothing else had. She merely stared at him for a moment, shocked, then at last his crude statement elicited a quiet laugh from her. She opened the door and waved him through, and after a brief 'goodnight,' she retreated to her own suite, to compose yet another, perhaps futile letter.
She tried to put him and all that he had said out of her mind completely. At the coming of sleep, she succeeded.
Author's Notes: Rhyn's back! I really have been quite surprised by how much people seem to like him. I'm sure some of you have your suspicions about how he escaped prison. I decided to use him in this chapter to introduce the upcoming vignettes involving Odin Lowe and Heero and their connection. Sakura is another original character of whom I'm rather fond, although her very existence, as Rhyn hinted in this chapter, does screw up quite a few lives. She started out as something of a deus ex machina, in that I had intended to simply use her for my convenience in creating a back story, but that back story metamorphosed into what you will find in the next few chapters. I couldn't resist having him sing in his sleep; I've seen a few people do it, and thought it would be cute in a more classical capacity. (As a side note, Rhyn's comment about Germany is not meant to be offensive; I myself from am from a German family.)
The situation with Relena comes to a head in the next chapter.