Dawn and Moon Wars
Chapter Twenty-Two
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters
Sally moaned softly, as warmth danced across her skin creating tiny ripples of pleasure through her body. Slowly, she managed to crack open her tired eyes, staring blurrily ahead at the flickering fire only feet away. For a second, she wondered if she still slept—after nights of trudging through snow, the idea of fire seemed the makings of a dream. But as the seconds passed, the flames continued to warm the air and Sally felt tears prick her gaze.
One trembling hand reached out toward the fire, flames nearly licking at her flesh, as she sought proof of its existence. Somewhere she vaguely heard a gasp and gentle hands entered her vision, pulling her hands away from their dangerous path. Sally let out a terrified mewl, as a form blocked her view of the fire. She struggled weakly against the hands holding hers, fear of loosing that fire creating a surge of panic within her.
"Please, stop! You're going to hurt yourself!" Gentle words that did nothing to calm the growing fear inside the healer. Sally kicked at the strange cloth weighing her down, her free hand lashing out.
"Trowa!"
Immediately, Sally felt another pair of hands grasp her shoulders, shoving her down to the ground. Her weak struggles were nothing compared to the strength in those strange hands and Sally felt tears slide down her face, as she lay at their mercy. "Please…" Her voice felt rough, a whisper of what it usually sounded like. "Please…"
"Poor girl… It's alright, we're not going to hurt you…" The first figure released her hand, moving away only to return with something grasped between her palms. "Trowa, could you lift her head?" There was no response, but Sally felt one of those strong hands slide under her neck, gently applying pressure. Warm metal pressed against her lips and Sally opened her mouth, as soothing hot tea poured down her throat.
Once she had drank her fill, Trowa carefully lowered her back to the floor. Sally blinked fuzzily, feeling a steady warmth permeate her body. She vaguely realized that Trowa had released her completely and had moved away, talking in low whispers with the speaker… She couldn't understand what they were saying, her mind was distant and foggy… The only thing she could focus on was the fire and the strange throbbing in her right hand…
At first, it started off as a tingle—tiny little needles stabbing into her skin… Then as the cold left her flesh, the tingle changed into an alternating throb of heat and cold—leaving her hand feeling disconnected and numb from the rest of her arm. Yet, as the throbbing continued its almost discomforting rhythm, Sally felt strength returning to her limbs. The blood within her veins seemed to flow faster, the fog inside her head lifting as her sight cleared…
She didn't know how much time had passed, but when her arms reached out, pushing against the floor to lift her body into a sitting position, she knew it couldn't have been nearly enough… Her gloves had been removed and she glanced down, not really surprised when she took in the faded white parlor on her right hand… The longer she wore the Glove, the more questions it arose… What exactly was the Glove? Who had created it and for what purpose?
"Oh! Are you alright? Should you be sitting so soon?" There was a flurry of fabric, as the speaker kneeled beside her, worried lavender eyes filling Sally's sight.
"I'm fine…" The healer did not recognize the woman before her, but she did recognize the disheveled clothing of a Dawn noble. The noble woman seemed innocent enough, a kind gentleness eased her features into an open smile…However, Sally found herself distrusting of that kind smile, she was not the same naïve woman she'd been when this war had broken out. Even a Dawn woman could spell out trouble for her and her companions, especially Wufei…
"Wufei!" Catherine's eyes widened at the sudden exclamation, jerking backwards as Sally's suddenly strong hands gripped her by the shoulders. "Where are my companions! A man and a woman! Where are they!"
Once again calloused hands appeared, prying her fingers off the shaking noble. A man with the most stunning emerald eyes Sally had ever seen gently forced her hands down. "Your friends are safe. Look." He pointed only a few feet away, revealing the still unconscious forms of Wufei and Hilde. Both were wrapped in odd layers of cloth and pushed as close to the fire as safely possible. Instantly, the fight left Sally's body and a relieved smile replaced the sudden fear of only seconds ago.
"Goddess bless… Thank you, thank you…" She turned the smile on the two, "I don't know how to thank you enough for helping us… I thought we would die out there…"
"It was Trowa that found you three." Catherine turned a fond gaze on her brother, "It's him you owe." Trowa fidgeted uncomfortably under the stares, standing with sudden vigor. Sally watched curiously as the man refused to meet her gaze.
"I don't deserve your thanks…" There was something very final about the man's stoic words, an almost tangible aura of remorse surrounding the figure.
"I thank you nonetheless." When he didn't respond, she turned her attention back to the woman. "My name is Sally, my friends are Wufei and Hilde. Might I have the names of our rescuers?" She grinned, a tired and weary sort of grin that showed the lines around her eyes—lines that didn't belong on such a young face.
The woman motioned toward Trowa's turned back, "You've met Trowa and I am…" There was a slight hesitance, almost as if she was contemplating some strange mystery. Then a radiant smile broke out across her face, "Catherine, my name is Catherine."
Sally arched an eyebrow at the odd behavior, "It is nice to meet you, Catherine." Sally took a glance around the broken down room, barely able to see anything but shadows. The only light in the small, dingy room was the fire crackling in the middle casting eerie dancing shades throughout the misshapen shelter. Her eyes sought out her companion's unconscious forms, watching as their chests moved up and down in a steady rhythm. Her mind felt numb with the realization that they were actually alive. After days of marching through snow and ice, the hunger in their stomachs turning into a gnawing pain, Sally had about given up hope. Even as she struggled to hold up Wufei's weight, Hilde's steps dragging along his other side, she had found her constant optimism and strength ebbing…
She could barely remember how long they had been walking, how many days had passed since they left the Caverns. All she could remember was the frigid cold and the overwhelming presence of white… She knew in some vague sense of the word that she was still in shock from the experience, which she found odd… After everything she had seen—the fall of the Dawn's Court, the Sadists, receiving the Glove—and yet it was this close encounter with nature, something entirely uncontrollable that she found the most fear…
Mrow.
Sally jerked, mouth falling open in joy and shock, as a familiar warm body pressed against her knee. "Galea! Oh, Galea!" The healer scooped the catriffin into her arms, holding the tiny body close to her chest. Galea did not seem entirely pleased by the manhandling, but she allowed it—noting the quiet pain within the healer. A soft rumbling began to build inside the catriffin filling the healer with its comforting sound. "Galea…" Sally swallowed the sob pushing its way up her throat—the catriffin brought back memories of happier, less complicated days.
"Oh, is she yours then?" Catherine shifted closer to the two, something clutched within her right hand. "She's been following us for a few days now…"
Sally smiled, "We're old friends… Galea never really belonged to anyone, but herself… I'm glad to see that she's safe. We were separated some time before the snow…" A small frown replaced the smile, "I thought she might be with a friend of ours…" The healer didn't notice the noble's sudden stiffening, instead she turned her warm gaze on the purring catriffin. "She's the only one left from my old life, ever since the Fall…"
"The Fall?" Catherine's voice had dropped down to a mere whisper, "You were there? At the Dawn's Court?" The noble's hand tightened around the strange object, an ashen look on her face.
From the shadows, something seemed to move closer to the two women—a shade detaching from the darkness. Sally found her gaze drawn to the fire, her rapidly replenishing gloved hand running against Galea's fur. "Yes, I was there." The flames flickered dangerously before her gaze—the small room seeming to disappear within that dancing fire. In the distance, Sally could hear the sound of sword meeting sword, the floor shook with the clash of foreign sorcery… And the sound of screams, the sobbing of lost children—the panic of a collapsing capital…
Then she blinked and it was gone, leaving behind only the tiny fire and the strange, dark room. "Its not something I could forget. And you?" The healer sent a pointed look in Trowa's direction, "What are you doing out here? This place has obviously seen better days."
Catherine refused to meet Sally's gaze, "We escaped from the Galaxy Court… Its fallen into the Moon's clutches, as well… Just like this village…" A horrified gasp escaped from the healer's mouth, her hand tightening around Galea's fur. The catriffin let out a painful yowl, swatting her hand away.
"He's branched out so far… Why aren't people fighting back? Why haven't the people rebelled?" Sally shook her head angrily, red strands flying at the motion. "Why weren't we prepared for this? How was he able to conquer the lands with so little effort?"
"Without the Dawn, most citizens are probably in hiding with little hope of the future… I would not be surprised if neighboring countries have had their fill of refugees in the last months." Catherine sighed, rubbing her finger against the simple doll she held. "Most likely, the Moon is allowing the commoners to remain at their posts, while accepting any men that wish to enter his ranks… The only real threat to him at the moment are the nobles and by destroying both the Dawn and Galaxy capitals, he's destroyed or enslaved nearly two-thirds of the army."
"With the Reborn Dawn's coronation taking place, a good majority of the nobles were present during the first attack… He couldn't have picked a more perfect day…" There was something eerily definite in Catherine's tone, a distant look on her face—the young woman suddenly looked years older, her shoulders heavy with a knowledge the others could only guess at.
"He won't stop." The two women jumped at the raspy wheeze and, realizing the source, Sally clambered across the floor, grasping Wufei's hand in her own. Tired, yet focused onyx eyes met hers, as he coughed, struggling to raise himself off the ground.
"Don't strain yourself!" Sally helped the man rise until his weight rested almost fully against her shoulder. "Wufei, stop! You're going to hurt yourself!" The healer's demanding tone received a glare from the man, but he finally stopped struggling against her.
"Here, this might help." Catherine held out a steaming cup, watching the pair concernedly and with an open amount of curiosity. The healer didn't respond, instead sending the woman a grateful smile before turning her attention once again on Wufei. Carefully, she lifted the cup to his lips, allowing him to take small, slow sips of the herbal tea. An almost maternal tenderness had taken over the healer's features, her lips softening into a sweet smile, as she lowered the cup.
"Where is my sword?" The warrior's tone reminded Sally of grating rocks, but his stoic face revealed none of the pain he had to be feeling. Instead, the only emotion that lied in his eyes was a slow, steady anger at the loss of his weapon.
"It's safe." Trowa's voice came from the shadows, causing Wufei to stiffen despite his weak muscles.
"Hand it over." There was no mistaking the danger in Wufei's tone, his eyes seeking out the other man's form. Already he had moved his left arm in front of Sally, striving to push her behind him.
"You have no use of it here."
"I'll be the judge of that." Onyx eyes narrowed at the tall man, finally able to pick out him out from the shadows. Wufei ignored Sally's hand on his arm, tightening in warning.
"Judge the damned, judge the innocent… What price shall we pay? What price shall she pay?" Quiet mumbling from the darkest corner of the room, the sound of steel sliding against leather. "Judge the damned…"
"That voice…" Sally released her hold on Wufei, the four ending their tense stare-down to turn toward the speaker. The healer squinted, shifting closer to the voice, only to have Wufei restrain her. "Hello?"
"Will you judge me?" The fire crackled suddenly, as Galea swiped at the fire sending a wave of fiery embers across the room. A quiet gasp sounded from Catherine at the motion, but the others were too focused on the image the fleeting light had offered. A view of a petite blonde woman, her shoulders slumped with an invisible weight, gray eyes dull and lifeless… In her hands there was the flash of steel, Wufei's blade pointed at her throat, inches away from her flesh. Despite the spy's efforts, the blade proved useless—seeming to come in contact with some unseen barrier.
"Midii!" Sally pulled herself away from Wufei, lunging across the room at the Spy Mistress. The spy didn't even look up, as the healer grasped the sword, relinquishing it with barely a fight. Midii merely settled back into the shadows, her lips moving in a quiet rambling that only she could understand. Horror stole across Sally's face, as she took in the woman's actions, her hands tightening around the blade.
"What happened to her!" The healer didn't bother to keep the accusation from her tone, turning on their rescuers with suspicion. At her tone, Trowa moved from the shadows to stand protectively before his sister, eyeing the blade in Sally's hands. He didn't believe the woman had enough energy to actually harm him or his sister, but her quick recovery was obviously the work of some sort of magicks—he wasn't about to take any chances.
"She's locked herself inside her own mind. We have tried to talk to her, but she doesn't seem to understand what is going on around her." Behind him, Catherine refused to meet the healer's gaze—there was an irrational anger displayed across the noble's face. How could Midii have invoked such concern? How exactly did the spy know these strangers?
Sally frowned, "I can see that. I want to know how she got in this state. Something had to trigger such a mental trauma."
Trowa's face revealed nothing, "We do not know. When we met her in the woods, she fell into this state almost immediately…"
"Oh, Midii…" Slowly, Sally lowered the weapon, placing it into Wufei's waiting hands. "How could something like this happen? It's as if she has no soul…"
"Death would be kinder…" Catherine's mumbled response seemed to echo throughout the room and the girl blanched as she felt Sally's cold glare on her neck. The noble shivered slightly, ducking further behind her brother instead of facing the rightful rage of the healer.
"That woman is not meant to die." Wufei took the sword with a thoughtful expression, his voice holding a surprising amount of certainty. At his tone, Sally shot a glance toward the man, but the warrior was focused on the strange sword. A tremor passed through Catherine at the man's steadfast words, her eyes darting toward Midii's huddled form. Only Trowa and the still sleeping Hilde seemed unaffected by the statement, as an uneasy silence settled over the odd group of strangers…
Then Sally looked up, meeting Trowa's gaze with stoic determination, "How long till sunrise?"
The Galaxy Court was a literal maze of hallways—it had been built during the early years of the Dawn's reign, as a protective fortress during the Crusades. Once it had been surrounded by a layer of walls each supported by a team of soldiers, but as the years passed by with little hint of rebellion, the walls had been allowed to fall into disarray. After awhile, they had become foliage covered ruins, a place where adventurous children played.
The citizens had been blinded by the architectural wonder known as the Court. It had been written that many Dawn enemies had become lost within the vast catacomb of twists and turns, a series of halls specifically created to confuse. Even now it was not an entirely rare occurrence for a body to be found hidden in some corner, an unwary assassin falling victim to the confusion. A person would have had to be born within the confines of the Court to understand the building's layout…
Or have official access to the blueprints, which Captain Lucrezia Noin had taken the privilege of during her years as the Dawn's protector. Now, she put this information to use to travel through the shadows of the Court, the unconscious Representative held firmly against her chest. In front of her, the stooped figure of the once proud Healer Irea darted around a corner, quickly motioning for them to follow. Even now it amazed Lucrezia to see the simple serving gown Irea now wore when compared to the layers of silk and velvet that had once adorned her lithe body. When she had come across the other woman, she had been horrified to see a noble woman playing servant to Millardo… The healer though incredibly sweet and gentle could also be amazingly proud and Lucrezia hated to think of how Millardo had managed to make the woman bow before him.
Whatever the case, when Lucrezia had seen the woman trembling before the soldiers, carrying wine at their command, she had thought the other woman completely lost… It had been by pure accident that she had spotted the same woman sneaking into the dungeons, tending to the wounds of prisoners—the guards she'd served sleeping peacefully…
The Lady Irea was a much stronger woman than she or Millardo had given her credit for and she suspected the Moon would be suffering from his underestimation.
Whatever the case, Lucrezia was grateful for the woman's help, without Irea's massive knowledge of the castle's layout and healing lore, Lucrezia would never have been given this chance to rescue Sylvia… And Lucrezia knew it would only be a matter of time before the former representative's lie was discovered. After realizing the terrible danger the woman had placed herself in for the better of the kingdom, Noin had felt honor bound to somehow help the young woman… Especially with the knowledge that the woman suffered because she had not been able to reach the capital soon enough…
Also, she could not get the Lady Pluto's face out of her mind, that foolish woman had sacrificed this capital and its people for her own safety… Noin would not allow herself to become like that cowardly girl. She would honor the bravery of her people and she would strive to help them as much as she could…
Even with the knowledge that it was Zechs behind so much pain…
Noin's eyes narrowed, she would not allow herself to become soft now. One man was not worth the pain of thousands of her countrywomen. She would ignore the newly revived pain within her heart and she would accomplish her duty to her country and queen… Even if it meant the death of the only man she had ever cared for…
Ahead of her, Irea's footsteps fell soundlessly against the floor—soft and sure as she disappeared into the unknown. Waiting for the woman to return created tension within the Captain, her calves twitching as if in preparation to run. The Captain hated the trembling fear within her, hated the sneaking and skulking this rescue required. Lurking in the shadows reminded her of the former Spy Mistress, a woman she had once loathed. In her mind, she had seen spying as a dishonorable profession, but now she wondered at the spirit the other woman must have possessed to withstand all the secrecy…
Lucrezia wondered how the other woman had handled the knowledge of Pluto's brother, hiding his identity from even the Dawn… Perhaps Midii would be able to explain to her these strange emotions building within her chest whenever she thought of Zechs… Ironic to think that she now shared the same traitorous weakness with the woman she had once rivaled against…
She blinked, startled as Irea's ruffled auburn locks appeared around the wall—those mature eyes watching Lucrezia with a curious stare. Irea's countenance of determination and wisdom was at odds with the cowering serving girl she had seen earlier. A solemn wave of Irea's hand pronounced the hall safe before the lady darted once again out of sight, not bothering to wait for the captain. As she walked, Irea ran a hand along the wall, her fingers momentarily pausing over paintings and tapestries. Noin wondered if the woman was trying to memorize every detail of the Court… She could understand the pain of watching one's home fall to pieces…
Suddenly, Irea came to a stop—her fingers seeming to cling to the wall, as she pushed herself forward and balanced on the tip of her toes. The muscles in her neck and back shifted, as her eyes narrowed, her breathing slowing to a stop. Behind her, Noin shifted Sylvia's weight careful to remain silent as the Healer listened to some unknown sound. It wasn't the first time the other woman had suddenly stopped to listen to sounds only she seemed to be able to hear. Lucrezia wondered if the Moon's invasion had instilled some form of hysteria into the other woman.
"Much too easy…" Soft murmurs caught on the air, Irea's whisper twisting the anxiety within Noin's stomach. Neither were sure how long they stood there, listening for guards that never came, but a moan pulled the two back to reality. Irea slowly lowered back down to her heels, darting a glance in Sylvia's direction. Sweat beaded the woman's forehead, her lips parted as she panted quietly.
"We need to hurry." Noin looked down at the woman, as well, her eyes clouded with concern.
"The opening is around the corner, behind the tapestry of Lady Tania d'lonia. I will wait here and distract any guards while you escape." Irea ran a gentle hand across Sylvia's fevered forehead, her voice a mere whisper in the airy hall.
Furrows of doubt lined Noin's face, as she absorbed the other woman's words. "I cannot leave you here, milady."
A hint of arrogance darted across Irea's features, her lips twisting into exasperation. "Do not be foolish! The others still need my help, but she needs yours. We both have our roles to play, Captain." Her eyes narrowed, "Now, go before someone sees!"
Noin hesitated only a second, years of obeying those higher in birth forcing her feet to move before her mind agreed. She could not meet the healer's gaze, as she moved past her—could only focus on the weight in her arms, the responsibility of this one brave woman… Without a backward glance, Noin turned the corner and made her way to freedom…
A shaky sigh pushed its way past numb lips, Irea's hands gripping the cloth of her dress. It would be so easy to escape with the Captain, to run away from the shame and horror that awaited her if she stayed… The Moon's lapdog… Yet, the other Galaxy members still suffered, their age and health making escape impossible. They needed her medical knowledge, needed the hope and information she was able to supply. She could not leave them.
Irea forced her hands down, lifting her head high—she would face her duty, she would not run from the hand fate had dealt her…
Even if that fate included a pair of haunted blue eyes following her every movement…
There was something in the water…
That had to be the only reasonable explanation for the way these people acted, Relena thought, as she watched several young people dance and leap around a large fire. Night had begun to settle, but the celebration for her welcoming hadn't even faltered. It seemed the darker it became, the wilder the freemen and women began to act. She didn't understand how the musicians sitting only feet away from her were able to continue playing for such long intervals, but from the happy looks on their faces she supposed they didn't mind. All in all, she could honestly say she had never experienced anything like it before… She had heard stories, people used to spread rumors about the freemen—calling them wild gypsies. The constant hiding, never staying in one place for any length of time, seemed to have given them almost over-the-top traditions. She wondered if perhaps their celebrations were a rebellion of sorts, a slap in the face to the Dawn officials… The loud music, rambunctious dancing, the grand fire—in the Dawn Court such a celebration would have been decreed sacrilegious and wicked… The celebrations of home had always been solemn occasions, full of prestige and pomp… To be honest, she had never cared for them much. The warm life and joyfulness of the freemen suited her much better, it made her feel light and young to laugh at the dances, tapping her foot along with the music.
Perhaps she could change the Dawn celebrations when she regained her throne… Revive them so that her people could feel the freedom that these people seemed to enjoy in the simplest of actions…
"Miss Relena!" Rachel plopped down beside her, breathing heavily from dancing. Someone tossed the girl a canteen and she guzzled the liquid down with a happy sigh. "Yum. You oughta dance, Miss Relena!" She took another sip, as the Dawn shook her head.
"Maybe later… I enjoy watching you and the others for now."
"Ah…" Another happy gulp and Relena watched with growing unease as a faint flush began to paint the other girl's cheeks. "Want some, Miss Relena?" The canteen still seemed fairly full despite the other girl's attempt to empty it and Relena could not help staring at it with suspicion. It seemed innocent enough, but she had gotten enough of a whiff to know it wasn't water…
"I don't think so, Rachel…"
"Aw, come on! Its really good! Trust me!" The girl shook the canteen wildly in Relena's direction, nearly spilling its contents. "This is your night, Miss Relena! You should have a bit of fun, shouldn't you?"
"No, she shouldn't."
Rachel stiffened slightly, a hint of fear brushing off the tipsiness as she looked up into the cold eyes of the Panther. The girl audibly gulped, "Um… Tomas is calling me! I'll be back, Miss Relena!" The canteen slipped from numb fingers, as the girl rushed away leaving the Dawn to face Heero alone.
"Oh…" Relena shifted under his gaze, it was the first time the two had truly spoken since she'd awakened… Since she'd spoken his name aloud… In front of poor—"Oh, Mother!" She jumped, startling the man, as she turned to face him with wide eyes. "The Crone! Where is she? I forgot all about her! Is she hurt? What happened!"
"She's gone." Heero growled, as Relena began to open her mouth again. "She wasn't human… She was your people's precious Mother in disguise."
"W-w-what? That's…" Relena sat down heavily, "That's incredible… Just…" She shook her head, trying to clear away the shock and confusion. "But why? Why would she hide her true form like that? Why go to such lengths? What could she possibly have been looking for at the slave market? Dorothy…Or…"
"Who knows why immortals do what they do." Heero crouched beside her, looking at the canteen with disgust. "She is gone now… For that, I am glad."
Relena said nothing, instead staring at his boots—dark, black boots covered in dirt and grass and snow and blood… Then, "I'm sorry…"
For a moment, she didn't hear anything—not the dancers or the music, nothing but her own heartbeat as she stared at those simple boots. Boots that had seen and done so much for her… She had betrayed those boots…
"You cannot hide names from immortals… She already knew…"
"That doesn't matter… I shouldn't have said it!" Her eyes strayed from those boots, her fierce desire to somehow make up for what she'd done overwhelming her shame. Cerulean met cobalt, as the Dawn stared into the Panther's eyes. "You bestowed something precious and secret to me and I…betrayed you… I was foolish, I let my emotions overrule my common sense and, in turn, hurt you… I am so sorry…"
Heero looked away from those pleading orbs, watching as the dancers swirled and swayed before them. "I…I allowed pride to control my actions and words… I was wrong." He stared down at her, watching as hope and confusion warred across her features. "You have nothing to apologize for. Your revelation of my name was a mistake, but a mistake made without harmful intentions… I, however… I was not there to protect you when you needed me." Relena's eyes widened and she lunged to her feet, words of opposition on her tongue even as he motioned for her to remain silent.
"No, I failed you. How could I condemn you for calling to me, for pleading with me by my true name, when you have entrusted your well-being in my care? I would not listen to you and then I endangered you… I gave you my name, I have no right to order how you are to use it."
"Heero…" The softest of whispers that caressed the air around him… That name, a cursed name he had longed to be rid of, and yet… When she spoke it… "You are my dearest companion…" Relena tentatively reached out, lightly touching his arm as she stepped closer. "Your mere presence has done more for me than any amount of physical protection… You saved my soul."
He jerked at her words, looking into her face with an expression she didn't recognize. Something dangerous, but gentle… And then one calloused hand reached up, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness she had never seen before… "Relena…"
"Miss Relena!" Giggles surrounded the air and the Panther was suddenly not there, instead standing feet away as if he had never looked her so sweetly in the eyes… "Come on, Miss Relena!"
"Go." His last word to her before he drifted away, once again sullen and dark—the ominous Panther once again. Relena sighed, knowing something wonderful and terrible had nearly happened in those brief seconds and not quite sure if she was grateful or angered by the others' intrusion. Another sigh escaped, as she slowly bent over, picking up the fallen canteen. The group of young dancers were coming closer, their giggles and shouts ringing in her ears as she stared at the simple canteen.
So… This was her night, huh?
With one more glance in the direction Heero had gone, Relena raised the flask to her lips.
"Tsk, tsk…" Lilian frowned disapprovingly, as she continued to wrap bandages around Dorothy's wounded arm. The sorceress grimaced, casting an angry glare at the Elysian which was dutifully ignored. The woman had made her opinion of Dorothy's duel quite clear when she had first entered the room—sending the sorceress an exasperated look before pulling out salve and wraps.
"Ya be hopeless, gurl." Nattie shook her head, chuckling as she leaned against the wall—watching the scene with obvious amusement. "We be here only days and ya be clawin' the locals."
Dorothy shot the laughing woman a look, wincing at a particularly fierce tug from Lilian, "Oh, shut up. I don't need to be hearing about it from you or you." She caught Lilian's eye, eliciting a snort from the elf woman. "That bitch attacked me, what choice did I have but to protect myself?"
Nattie arched an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at her scarred face creating a ghastly expression, "Oy, she really hit a nerve. I be surprised she still be alive from yer tellin'."
"She is the one that is lucky to be alive." Lilian tied the last knot, setting aside the roll of bandages. Her elegant eyebrows pulled together, lines etched around her mouth as she scowled at Dorothy. "Had you not summoned the Scyth'llial, you would be dead by now."
Dorothy rolled her eyes, pulling away from the servant as she paced across the room. Silk whispered against her bare legs, the previous layers of dressing lying in a pile on the bed. The sorceress gathered a handful of creamy ivory cloth into her right hand, plucking and smoothing the fabric in an unconscious nervous gesture. The cold floor sent shivers up her bare feet, the uncomfortable sensation a welcoming distraction from the looks being sent her way.
"Ya be full of surprises, that be fer sure. A scythlililie be what?" Nattie couldn't quite keep the concern from her gaze, as she watched the sorceress cross the room stopping in front of the window.
"Scyth'llial!" Lilian glowered at the oblivious human, "If you must butcher a language, then please stick to your own, human!" The maid sniffed angrily, gathering the healing equipment, standing with a snap of her skirt. She stalked toward a tall cabinet, replacing the remaining bandaging—allowing the warrior woman to make a decidedly rude gesture behind the Elysian's back. Dorothy smirked as she watched their reflections in the window's glass, snickering as Lilian spun around—eyes flashing at the former slave.
"I saw that!"
Nattie shrugged, a wicked grin on her lips, "That be the point, long-ears."
Human and Elysian continued to bicker in the background, their petty insults pulling a smile to Dorothy's face. She leaned against the wall, staring out into the night sky---allowing the argument behind her to wash over her, an odd emotion tugging at her heart as she placed her forehead against cold glass. Listening to them reminded her of so many silly little arguments she had once had with Relena—reminded her of friendly bantering that existed in a different world, a different time…
Would she ever be able to feel that simple camaraderie she had once shared so freely with Relena? Despite all the differences between the two, they had always been able to connect. It had gone beyond Dawn and Advisor, beyond even simple friendship---they had been each other's anchors in some of the hardest times of their lives. It had been Relena she'd turned to whenever her mother's demands became too much and she could not even count the number of times Relena had shown up in the middle of night, a hundred self-deprecating worries eating away at the future queen. They had been together their entire lives, growing up side by side, experiencing the follies of life---more than mere friends, more than bureaucracy, they had been sisters…
Life had never been perfect, but it had been bearable as long as they had one another… Even when they bickered or disagreed, she had known in the back of her mind that Relena would always be there for her… And then she had managed to commit that heinous crime, torn apart their relationship because she hadn't been strong enough to control the blade's hunger… In the darkest depths of her mind, she still saw the former Dawn's surprised face—those brilliant eyes so similar to Relena's glazing over, the ashen parlor of death settling across the woman's features.
She had managed to push back the memories, the devastating guilt that ate away at her soul whenever she held the dagger's weight within her hand. She had no time to wallow in her pain—what right did she have to self pity when she had destroyed such a kind, brilliant woman?
Dorothy's eyes drifted from sky to ocean, her gaze haunted. She had truly admired the deceased Queen Katrina and had secretly envied the loving relationship Dawn and daughter had enjoyed. When compared to the icy coolness that Lady Catalonia had displayed, the Queen had been all warm gentleness—a soothing hand on her shoulder, a comforting smile… At times, the Queen had seemed more mother to her than her own flesh and blood...
She could remember in her younger years closing her eyes and pretending that the Dawn was her mother… That the tender hugs and obvious love shared between Relena and Katrina included her…Dreams of motherly caresses---a smile full of warmth and love, things that her own mother had never felt necessary.
In some ways, she had been able to understand her mother's lack of love for herself… Giving birth to a new Advisor heir had not been a choice, but a duty for Leona Catalonia. Dorothy had never experienced any true moments of motherly affection from her, but had instead been treated more as an apprentice—rewarded and punished, as if a mere student or servant. The terms mother and daughter had always lacked the normal warmth most families placed upon them. Leona had always seemed nearly invincible, even after all the power Dorothy had managed to claim for herself, she had always found herself bowing down to her mother's will. If Dorothy was completely honest with herself, she would have to admit to a certain amount of childish fear whenever it came to Leona Catalonia.
And yet…
She would never forget the image of her mother's shocked features, eyes glazed over in death, surrounded in layers of broken rubble…
Could not ignore the twisting, stabbing pain within her chest whenever she faced the reality of her mother's death… It was not that Dorothy had lost her mother, but that she had lost her childish dreams of one day having her mother look at her the way Katrina had looked at Relena…
She would never know if Leona had ever loved her…
Dorothy swallowed a sigh, eyes following the gentle rolling waves miles beneath her. The sea reminded her of crushed velvet causing her fingers to twitch. The sight brought a narrowing to her eyes, as she recalled the strange sensation that had inflicted her earlier. Gentle fingers caressed her right ear, the memory of blood on her hands bringing a quickening to her breath. What had called to her beneath the ocean waves?
What had spoken to her during her battle with Avila? What had suddenly filled her with the knowledge to summon the Scyth'llial? And why had the others reacted so oddly to the strange weapon? What powers did it hide within its blade?
"Scyth'llial…"
Nattie and Lilian paused their bickering, casting curious gazes in Dorothy's direction. The sorceress remained motionless, her right hand seeming to clutch at the windowsill, while her other grabbed handfuls of silk. Her eyes continued to watch the water, her breathing quick and frantic.
"Dorothy?"
"Lady…?"
Something shifted beneath the waves…
A half moon shone over the courtyard, illuminating the magically enhanced gardens of the Galaxy Court. Compared to its luminescent glow, the stars seemed feeble and lacking—mere pinpricks of light trying vainly to match its radiance… And yet, Quatre knew that in only hours, the sun would rise and its rays would put even this show to shame… Despite the clouds and winter atmosphere, the sun would always manage to overwhelm the moon…
Quatre sighed, running a hand through blonde locks as he leaned against a headless marble statue. The courtyard was littered with the remains of the soldiers' frustrations, statues of ancient female heroes had been desecrated—their once proud visages now headless… Near his feet, the tender gaze of Juliana Noventa stared accusingly up at him and he looked away, a strange guilt bubbling beneath his chest.
He pushed away from the statue, purposefully walking around the rubble, heading toward the open entrance. Ever since returning to the Moon, Quatre had found himself in a constant state of uncertainness… Uncertainness about the Moon and the Dawn, his bondling, and his role in this entire mess… But mostly he was uncertain about himself, about the emotions twisting inside of him, and the strange power pulsing beneath his skin.
He had called upon his full power---the spirit of his bondling had pulsed through him, adding a strength to his soul that he had never experienced before… Giving him the will to finally truly accept the power he had been forced to hide his entire life, the magicks that had so long been hidden away within his lute… The power he had released when confronted by the Moon had been unlike anything he had ever seen---magicks he had not even realized he'd held. A man could become drunk on so much power…
Perhaps that was why it had been locked away, trapped within his lute by some unknown force…
Quatre cast one last look at the shimmering moon, old questions fluttering within his mind. "Only hours till dawn… No matter how magnificent the moon may look, it'll always be overpowered by the sun…" He shook his head before turning away from the sight, walking into the fortress.
The halls were shadowy, lit by the glow of torchlight and magical globes—a far cry from the moon's glittering visage. His feet made barely a sound, the soft soles of his slippers—something he had once never imagined wearing—gliding across stone flooring. Occasionally, he spotted a guard on watch—their eyes wary and suspicious as he passed, their hands tightening around sword or spear. Very few of the guards had approached him since his stay, the tale of his sudden arrival and magical display had traveled quickly among the Moon's soldiers. Despite the growing apprehension within some of the guards when it came to the Moon, Quatre suspected they would still gladly die for the man that had granted them so much freedom.
And the Moon had brought freedom. Every day more and more men flocked to the capital, pledging their allegiance to the man that had managed to subdue their former masters. As Millardo's troops pushed farther outward, taking more land from the old lineages, shackling more and more noble women, former slaves suddenly found themselves in control of their own destinies. However, years of following orders had left many confused and unsure of how to use this newfound power and, as such, had led them to find the man that had brought about such changes…
If this continued, Millardo would soon have the largest army to ever grace the nation... Perhaps, even the world…
Quatre's step faltered, his eyes widening at some sudden revelation… Would a man with that kind of power be able to stop once he had conquered the Dawn Lands? Or would it merely be the beginning of some much larger revolution? If the Moon were to set his sights on the lands beyond, what would become of the world? Would it be a step in the right direction?
Brilliant sapphire eyes widened in horror, a terrible cry escaping past rosebud lips—she was much too young, much too terrified to hold the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders…
A quiet gasp broke the hall's silence, as Quatre slumped against the wall—his breath ragged and frantic as he pushed away the vision… No matter how hard he tried he could not forget the expression on the young Dawn's face, as he lunged toward her… The loss in her voice when she had first approached him, like some angel trying to find her way back to paradise... And he had managed to change that loss into pure fear, into terrible pain… He had made the Dawn fall to her knees, crying out for mercy…
Disgust and satisfaction warred against each other, as he fought against the vision… Pale, long fingers pressed against the scar cutting across his features, running along the jagged skin. He pressed against it, eliciting a twinge of old pain and he slowly pushed away from the wall—hand dropping to his side. If he started to question his actions then he would be lost… He had long passed the point of no return… If he allowed himself to start doubting now…
Footsteps, cloth against skin, the soft airy sound of lips moving…
Slowly, Quatre lifted his head—locks of hair falling across his gaze as he stared into the shadows. The voices sounded feminine… And something dark seemed to flicker within his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching in a parody of a smile, as he began to creep down the hall toward the sound. The shadows seemed to cling to his form, magick silently crackling in his hands—his smile widening further till it pulled at the scar, throbbing slightly at the sensation.
Why oh why would Millardo allow women to roam freely throughout his fortress? Fascinating, indeed…
Shadows upon shadows wrapped around him, as he turned the corner—magick running up and down his arms. He didn't know how he controlled powers he had never used in eighteen years, but the knowledge must have lied somewhere deep down in his subconscious. Knowledge that did something wondrous and impossible, trapping light and darkness around him till Quatre disappeared—hidden away under layers and layers of Spirit and something else… something different…
He watched the trio with dispassionate eyes, recognized the former Captain of the Swords and barely arched an eyebrow as he took notice of the unconscious Lady Sylvia in her arms. He heard their words, soft, paranoid whispers that seemed to cut lines across their young faces---troubled times for such young women… Quatre smirked, as the Captain and her ward turned and walked away—honestly believing they would somehow escape the fortress. He would give them another second or two before raising the alarm, but perhaps he would take the third one under his own custody… How amusing it would be to announce to the Moon that his own personal serving wench had never been under his control…
She turned, head lifted high—old noble arrogance rearing its head. She was a pretty woman despite all the pain she must have suffered at the Moon's hands… Short strands of auburn hair were pushed behind pierced ears, the locks were slightly ruffled, but coifed in a manner hinting at the care she once may have taken in her appearance. Her eyes were startling mature, a sophisticated blue that soothed and pierced in one glance.
Those eyes… Tender and strong… So wise and gentle, facing reality with a steady and warm heart… So familiar and yet…
"I have never regretted bringing him into this world…"
Kind, gentle eyes… Soft, tender hands… A beautiful, sweet lullaby…
"He is my son and I will always love him."
Her eyes… Those haunting eyes…
"Hush, little one, momma's here…"
Quatre slid down the wall, eyes wide as he watched Irea walk by unaware of his presence. There was salt on his tongue and he wiped a hand across his face, a terrible fear surrounding his heart as tears soaked into his shirt's sleeve. Feet away, Irea reached the corner of the hall, disappearing from his sight… His hand shook, reaching toward her fading form, but she did not see… she would never see… those kind, gentle eyes would never look at him again…never never never…
In that dark, empty hallway a broken man wept…
A loud knock broke the sudden silence overtaking the three women, pulling Dorothy's sight away from the strange presence lurking beneath the waves. Dorothy spun around at the sound, arching an eyebrow at the stunned Lilian. "Shouldn't you be getting that?" The Elysian chambermaid narrowed her eyes at the half-breed, turning stiffly on her heels before stalking toward the door. Nattie's hand tightened around the hilt of a small, barbaric looking blade hanging at her side—her eyes intent on both maid and door, as she waited alongside her chosen mistress.
Lilian had barely reached the door when it suddenly swung open, slamming against the opposite wall with a bang—eliciting a slight wince from both sorceress and maid. Nattie merely pulled her blade free, placing herself in front of the blonde half-breed sorceress, ready to face whatever had forced its way into the room… Only to lower her blade seconds later, rolling her eyes at the figure stalking forward.
"Oy, that ain't no way to win a lady's heart, kingie." Nattie walked across the room, sending the obviously angry Elysian an amused look. She grabbed hold of the bowing Lilian's arm, ignoring her disgruntled expression as she pulled her up and toward the still open door. Across the room, Duo faced Dorothy—his violet eyes flashing with dangerous power while the sorceress remained aloof, arching an arrogant eyebrow at his anger. Nattie couldn't quite keep the grin from her face.
"Come on, elfie, they be needin' some alone time."
"Unhand me, you savage!"
The door shut only slightly more quietly than it had opened, the sound of Nattie and Lilian's bickering echoing down the hallway---disappearing further and further away from the King to be and sorceress… Till they were left standing in heavy silence, the air nearly choking… Just the sound of their breathing---the Elysian King still cloaked in layers of heavy brocade and velvet, a glimmering crown set upon his chestnut locks facing the Half-breed sorceress simply dressed in her nightclothes, her long, white-blonde hair unfettered by decoration as it hung around her form, grazing the back of her calves… They were a sight out of some legend told around fires to entrance young and old alike… Except, Dorothy seriously doubted anyone would have included the slight tic developing over said King's right eyebrow---it seemed a very unkingly-like attribute.
"Lovely night, isn't it?" Dorothy raised a hand toward the window, a mocking innocent smile adorning her features. She began to move toward the sight only to have a warm, rough hand wrap around her arm, pulling her back.
"What the hell was that scene all about, Dorothy! How on earth do you manage to get yourself in these kinds of situations?" Despite his anger, Duo managed to keep his voice reasonably low, probably in fear of anyone overhearing… Or maybe he was merely trying to hold onto his temper. Briefly, Dorothy wondered what it would be like to see Duo in true combat, his anger and determination overcoming all other emotions… And a dark secret part of her wondered what it would be like to have all that energy directed toward her in a very different manner than anger…
"Perhaps it is yourself you should look to. She was, after all, one of your subjects. What kind of kingdom are you running that your subjects go around attacking representatives of other nations?" Her lip curled disdainfully, as she yanked her arm from his grasp—facing him with an old familiar facade of arrogance and disgust.
Duo growled, "I can't go around protecting you from every idiot you antagonize! You need to learn some restraint, Dorothy, before you get yourself killed!"
Dorothy saw red—it painted her vision till all she could do was hiss at the braided elf. "Restraint! Restraint! You need to learn how to control your citizens!"
No amount of control could stop the enraged yell from spilling from his mouth, as he threw his hands into the air. Duo spluttered angrily, shaking a finger wildly at the sorceress. "You, you! I swear to the gods above! You!"
"How elegant, how eloquent! So this is the grand Elysian king—you suit your people well, you arrogant ass!" Dorothy swung a hand at the enraged Elysian, glowering as he easily caught the offending appendage, holding it in his much stronger grasp despite her struggling. A hint of fang glimmered in the faint light, as Duo hissed at her—the sound seeming to glide against her ear's delicate flesh. Anger stained Dorothy's pale cheeks red, as she fought against the hand holding her wrist---glaring up into those alien violet eyes so unlike her seemingly human ones.
"I hate you!" More a snarl than sentence, but the emotion remained clear and Duo growled in return, bowing his head till their noses nearly touched.
"The feelings mutual, witch!"
Angry panting filled the air, the only sound in the large bedchamber, as the two glared at one another. Their fighting had loosened the Elysian's braid, loose strands of russet hair catching Dorothy's gaze. Her fingers twitched to push aside those stray locks, something strange and unfamiliar twisting within her stomach… Silk rubbed against Duo's pants and he glanced down, for the first time seeming to notice the sorceress's clothing. As if burned, his fingers released their firm hold on her, jerking away as he took several steps back—breath suddenly ragged and incredibly loud in the room's ominous silence.
Dorothy's eyebrows shot upward at the sudden change in emotion, watching as the King paced back and forth before her—running a hand through his hair and effectively knocking his crown to the floor. The crown teetered back and forth on the hard floor, both watching its spinning progress—sending rays of flickering, golden light outward. Duo paused, standing eerily still as Dorothy slowly kneeled, elegant fingers curling around the golden circlet. Straightening, she ran her fingers along the simple crown—gliding over an intricate mix of gold and jewels.
"It doesn't really suit you…" She tossed the coronet aside, watching as it bounced against the bed's soft mattress, landing serenely in the middle of the large bed. Dorothy smirked slightly—a strange mixture of honest smile and arrogant frown, "You looked better in the woods, all covered in dirt and grime…"
He nodded slightly, eyes narrowed, "I see… Of course, you would rather see a man dressed in rags and dirt than silk and gold."
She shrugged, "Of course, but then again you're not a man." Silk shifted against smooth flesh, as she walked around the room—once again approaching the window, pushing aside the curtain to gaze at the moon. "I didn't attack her; I was looking for you when she came after me… Though, I will admit I did 'antagonize' her, but no more than she deserved. It will not happen again."
"Yes, it will." He sighed, pulling at buttons and ribbons as he pulled off the heavy coat he wore—tossing it aside, as he paced across the room. "You summoned Scyth'llial, others are bound to show up wishing for a duel, hoping to somehow gain control of it."
Dorothy glanced over her shoulder, the moon outlining her fey features, "Eventually someone will have to explain to me why that sword is so special… But not now..." She turned toward the window again, "It is a lovely night, perfect for a late night stroll if we weren't floating in the air."
She tried not to stiffen as he approached her from behind, his warm breath shifting her hair. He reached around her to hold the curtain back, allowing her own hand to fall to the windowsill. Slowly, her breathing began to match his—their chests moving up and down in perfect sync.
"There's magic in the air…"
She couldn't control the unladylike snort from escaping, earning a grin from the Elysian behind her. "That sounds like a line from one of Relena's favorite fairytales… Something the prince would say to capture the fair maiden's heart…"
"You're thinking like a human." There was something gentle, almost tender about the way he spoke---something that kept her usual answering pride at bay, as she half-turned to face him. He didn't meet her gaze, but motioned toward the sky, "You have to listen—hear the rhythm of the world around you… Something magical and wondrous is happening out there, something that may change the world."
"I've had enough of magick that shakes the world's foundation… There used to be something joyful and exhilarating in the touch of magick, now it feels haunted and heavy by the presence of prophecy…"
"Do not let the past taint something so beautiful. You must learn how to listen." Duo pressed his hands gently into her shoulders, sending a shiver through the sorceress at the touch of skin against skin. Within seconds, she could feel the rise of his magicks seeping into her flesh, flowing outward till the source of his power wrapped around them both. Her head rolled backwards, eyes closed as the scent of chocolate and mint seemed to fill the air… Sweet and bitter and incredibly fresh---twining around her senses until she could gladly suffocate in the essence of Duo Maxwell…
Behind her, Duo lowered his face into her hair breathing in the smell of lilacs—the scent of human and Elysian magicks that encompassed Dorothy's own inner psyche… But behind even that nearly overwhelming sensation lied something else—the taste of sticky sweet honey pouring down his throat, the spicy fragrance of cinnamon rising into the air… Her Elysian power hidden for so many years eagerly rose to combine with his, surrounding them in a cloud of magick until the two could only ride the wave of sensations…
"Listen, Dorothy…" Duo's voice was low and muffled by her own hair, but unnecessary as ancient knowledge crept outward—calling to something magnificent… And Dorothy listened.
The sound of a hundred bells chiming, the gentle whisper of the wind, the low, powerful humming of the moon's rays, ancient and powerful music… And something far away that shone like gold, a song of such glory and beauty—twisting rays of gold and heaven and power into a sound unlike anything she had ever experienced… A pure, heavenly note that shot into the air—exploding into an array of music more glorious than any bard's song… An angel's gentle strumming on some heavenly harp—a song meant only for immortal ears and yet she was somehow blessed with its presence…
"Beautiful…" Dorothy slowly opened her eyes, tears streaming down her face—a gentle, tender smile gracing her lips… At her voice, Duo leaned back, watching her with a curious expression. Something innocent and kind shone within her blue eyes and the Elysian royal marveled at the image she made—at the strong soul she possessed to hold such innocence in the face of so much pain and suffering…
"Everything has its own song, even people… But usually it is a simple chord, a single note reverberating around them. However, there are some people that possess incredible music—the essence of their soul creates a song of such beauty and power that it mesmerizes all that come in its presence." He titled his head at her, smiling in a gesture so tender she barely recognized him. "Did you know, Lady Dorothy, that you possess such a song?" Her eyes widened, hair swinging wildly as she turned to face him completely, mouth opening in some harsh retort. However, Duo placed a gentle, but persistent finger against her mouth—removing it only when she remained silent. "I have never heard anything so beautiful as your song…"
The scent of mint, the taste of chocolate, the sight of amethyst—the essence of Duo surrounded her senses and yet nothing could compare to the sound of HIS song…
Slowly, gently Dorothy pressed her lips against his.
"Ta-da!" Rachel stepped back, nearly tripping over her own feet before righting herself with a giggle. With an exaggerated flourish, she swung her arms, accidentally hitting another girl. Fortunately, the other female seemed as intoxicated as Rachel and merely joined in the laughter before oohing and aahing over Rachel's hard work---a fully gypsified Relena, complete with swaying scarves. At the onlookers' encouragement, Relena did a little twirl, smiling widely as rows upon rows of color danced with her.
"Beautiful! Thank you very much!" Despite her new friends' insistence that she drink jug upon jug of 'moonshine', as they so lovingly called it, Relena had managed to limit her intake—producing a joyful haze of innocent happiness… Something that once would have come upon her without the assistance of alcohol… Only another reminder of the horrors she had come to face since her days as the somewhat spoiled Morning Star… Horrors that she would not allow herself to think about this night—for one night she would pretend that she was merely a young girl attending a festival with friends… Tonight, she would not allow destiny and fate to bring her spirits low…
And if keeping herself in such high spirits relied on the occasional sip of moonshine then she would push aside disapproval and doubt and gladly take that welcoming sip.
Relena smiled warmly at the group—male and female mingling together so easily, joking and teasing each other in a way that she had never seen before. It was incredibly beautiful and exhilarating to be able to witness something so miraculous—a miracle to her Dawn-bred ways. This was what she would aspire to, this was the path she hoped to show to her people—a life of simple joy and acceptance.
"Now you're a true Freeman, Miss Relena!" Rachel declared loudly to the crowd, happily taking Relena's hands in her own—pulling the girl toward the center of the clearing, where a large bonfire licked the sky and groups of men and women danced wildly. "Come on! Now that you look like a Freeman, you have to learn how to act like a Freeman!"
"What? Rachel!"
"A dance, Miss Relena, a dance!" Rachel released her hold, throwing her hands over her head as she began to twirl—twisting and kicking to the music. She shot a wicked grin in Relena's direction before being thrown into the air by a laughing man, who caught her with ease. Though a part of Relena warred with disbelief and shock, another part of her could not keep her hips from swaying gleefully to the playful music twining through the air.
The Dawn took a sweeping glance around, grinning as she watched others dip and twist, their laughter a welcoming change to the ominous silence she usually traveled with… Ominous silence which at the moment was watching her disapprovingly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a step toward her—mouth set in a stern frown. Relena's grin faltered slightly, as she watched the Panther come closer---her mind already supplying his harsh words describing her foolishness… And Mother above, she was so tired of his disapproval… So tired of the strange, tense emotions that played between them—emotions that she doubted either of them could name…
Relena spun around, seeking some form of escape and finding it in the genial smile of a brown-haired Freeman. With a leap more alcohol induced than anything, she threw herself at the gypsy, taking his hands in her own as she struggled to flee from Heero's dark gaze. The man seemed only slightly surprised by her attack, laughing heartily as he swung her around—closer and closer to the flames till its heat caressed her skin. The warmth seemed to seep into her skin, heating her blood till she threw back her head and laughed at the exhilaration of it all. The fire glinted off the metal enclosing her pale throat, in the night air the collar seemed more like some beautiful decoration than the cruel, imprisoning weapon it was…
Heero halted in his approach, eyes narrowing even more as he watched his ward run away in the arms of another man… He shook his head violently, not another man—a man, a simple human man—he couldn't be another man, the word another implied that Heero thought of himself as a man and he couldn't do that, wouldn't do that… He was not a man, he was not a human—no matter what the gods might say he could not affiliate his race with hers…
He could not believe that once his race and hers had been one…
A low growl rumbled from his throat, his feet carrying him through the fire's shadow—its flames reflecting in his cerulean gaze. At his side, his fingers curled in and out—a mockery of the claws he'd once possessed… Claws and fang that wanted nothing more than to go to her side, protect her from the danger she put herself into without even a second thought. He'd seen the canteen in her hands, watched as she brought it to her lips again and again—allowing these wild humans to captivate her, blind her of her common sense.
In a crowd of humans, Heero watched as the strange male lifted Relena into the air—spinning her with wild abandon as she laughed and flung her hands into the air. When he lowered her, Relena twirled away—a coquettish smile on her lips, scarves swaying wildly around her lithe form. Another low growl escaped past his lips, as the gypsy-man grabbed her hips, pulling her close as the two swayed around the flames. He dipped her low to the ground, locks of golden honey brushing the ground before he swung her back up—twirling her outward with a sly grin.
Released from her nameless dancer's hold, Relena spun, her scarves dancing around her as she swayed around the man. Her hands ran down the simple cloth skirt, fingers tangling into the layers of wispy scarves—knots loosened at the motion and when she lifted her hand, a single yellow scarf remained wrapped around her fingers. A girlish giggle painted the air, as Relena ran the flimsy fabric across her face, down her chest—tickling the visible expanse of flesh, as she twisted the fabric between her hands. A faint blush, whether from lust or alcohol she didn't know, tinted the man's cheeks, as he reached for her.
From the shadows, Heero watched as the two moved as one… watching, always watching, only watching…
A dip, a sway, a twist, a spin, a lift…
The gypsy-man lifted her high in the air and Relena threw back her head and laughed. He lowered her and she danced away from him, kicking her right leg as she spun to face the crowd. There was something almost primal in the way she faced the onlookers, eyes half-lidded, those sapphire orbs dark and shadowed. Her right arm pointed outward, scarf hanging from her fingers—a flick of her wrist causing the simple piece of fabric to dance in the air. Her body swayed and moved and beckoned and when she motioned, Heero slowly straightened and walked toward her.
Relena twirled just out of his grasp and waved the scarf before him, a taunting smile on her lips. While she danced, he stalked---muscles tensing and shifting as he followed her every move, dark and primal as he came closer and closer. His eyes remained locked on that silly, foolish yellow scarf—growling as she waved it in front of his face, her dance partner long forgotten in this new game of cat and mouse… And Heero couldn't help, but wonder if he was the cat or the mouse in this game—there was something strangely predatory about the way Relena moved before him.
Those strange blood-red hands mocked him, yellow twisting around her fingers—blood stained hands pressing against pale skin, as she brushed her fingers against her chest, a simple, accidental brush of skin against skin and yet his blood boiled. Relena gasped, as Heero suddenly shot forward, his hand wrapping around the fragile cloth with a snarl.
For a second, they remained still—nearly nose to nose, as one red hand and one tan held the simple scarf between them. Around them the dancers continued to leap and laugh, unaware of the silent battle playing out between Dawn and Panther… Among all these humans, the two seemed merely another woman and man—just another couple standing amidst the chaos…
"What have you done to me?" The words were barely understandable, anger and confusion twisting them into a mixture of snarls and growls. Heero ripped the scarf from her grasp, grabbing her wrist with his other hand. His seemingly normal, human teeth were bared at her, lip curled back in a semblance of animal rage.
Relena's own gaze narrowed angrily, "Me! Why is everything always my fault with you?" She pulled at his hand, trying in vain to release his hold on her. "Let go of me!"
Heero leaned in close, invading her personal space in a way only he could. "No."
Somewhere, outside their little private world, the music quickened. Heart beats sped up.
They moved.
Fluid grace was the only way it could be described as the two danced together, their bodies locked against each other. Relena's scarves floated through the air, dancing around the couple as Heero led the Dawn through a series of twirls and twists… The yellow scarf fluttered to the ground, his hand moving to press against her back, pulling her closer. Relena ceased her struggling, instead wrapping one hand around his vest, clutching at the stiff leather—but her eyes still remained lit with anger, her mouth copying his motion, baring them in an angry, wild grin.
Heat pulsed within the Dawn, flowing through her veins until she nearly panted at the intensity of it. It poured from her in waves, a heat stronger than any flame---a fire of immortal intensity that burned beneath her flesh. The air rippled around the two, magicks crackling through the air—Dawn power and Freeman power and a power uniquely Heero's, blending in the air, coiling around them. A wisp of her hair grazed across his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth across his flesh… It grew between their skin, where his hands touched her skin—burning through his skin, piercing through flesh and bone and blood till all he could feel was the warmth of her presence.
Relena tossed her head back and forth, her breath ragged and hurried, as she fought to control the sudden overwhelming force uncoiling within her… Her body burned and where his hands touched, it burned even more---a heat unlike anything she had felt and yet so familiar…
They didn't dance, they existed within each other's arms—unaware of the eyes watching them, unaware of the power rolling off their connected forms… And the music continued to pound, growing in intensity—gypsy music, gypsy power adding to the typhoon of magick surrounding Dawn and Panther. The music continued it's tempting, tantalizing beat and the power grew.
What will you fight for, little Dawnling?
If she was flame, then Heero was ice—eyes cold and harsh, a glittering blue unlike any she had ever seen before. Those eyes could freeze a simple person, surrounding them in a frigid ice there was no escape from… And yet, ice could melt—becoming an ocean of rolling, wild waves. He had the power to pull a soul down into those depths, drowning them gladly in the cold wealth of his sea…
And yet she burned where he touched her…
The finale was coming. The dance continued… Touching and not touching.
Heero's wild eyes peered into Relena's cloud blues… And saw something stir deep within their depths… Something wild and feral and Heero growled. A game of cat and mouse—no… Neither would ever accept the role of mouse willingly, never would they accept anything less than complete equality… There could be no prey and predator, no human and animal, no Dawn and Panther…
Abruptly, the music halted—ending on a long jagged note that seemed to tear at the sky, causing the two to stop their frenzied dance. Sweat beaded their flesh, as Relena smirked, "If this were a battle, who would win, Heero?"
He didn't answer and she briefly wondered if he had forgotten the human ability to speak in words—his eyes were much too wild for his human face, much too pure… And in that moment, surrounded in a cocoon of magick and emotions, Relena saw the beauty in a world without words… Especially when actions could say so much more…
A growl, most likely learned from Heero, poured from her throat—almost more of a purr, as she dug her hands into his hair—ignoring his warning snarl, as she pulled him close. A crazy, wild impulse that most likely she would regret later, but at the moment it stole her senses—she wanted something, she craved something, and she could not think of a single reason why she could not acquire this one, simple desire
With that single thought, Relena pushed herself forward—lips pressing against Heero's in an almost bruising manner. Rough hands twined into her hair, holding her firmly against him as Heero growled into her mouth, nipping at her lips in a purely animalistic manner. She tasted blood and wasn't sure if it was hers or his and she didn't really care—the warmth of his lips poured into her throat, building within her chest till she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel his lips pressed against hers… The taste of him, the feel of him—drowning all other thoughts in the ocean that was Heero…
Fire licked at her flesh, it tore at her soul, and yet all she wanted was him—all she wanted was Heero to always be with her, to always be at his side…
A flame building within her chest, shooting from her toes and fingers—burning away the essence of her, a core of energy clawing at her throat, at her skin—escape, escape, escape!
Heero slowly pulled away from her, eyes wild and dark as he stared down into her flushed features… Eyes of sapphire blue glittered up at him, lines of gold streaking through the black irises—a tremor passing through her form, as he continued to hold her close.
"Relena…" The barest of whispers, a single second of calm before the storm…
Eyes too bright, too golden, too immortal stared up at him and Heero could only hold onto her, as the Dawn threw back her head and screamed, raw magicks pouring off her…
The acceptance of power is a hard burden to bear…