Trowa sighed a little at the recent exchange with the one whom he had hoped to make his bride and queen. It had not went well, but then, he really hadn't expected that it would. He had known very well that she was going to be angry with him for stealing her away; he had been so wrapped up in the need to have her near him that he had overlooked how he was going to soothe her into returning his affections. Bad strategy from one who was so accustomed to using his cool intellect to think things through thoroughly before embarking on a plan of action. It was most uncharacteristic of him, but so was the entire situation. Trowa had to admit that he knew precious little on how to win a lady's affection; she had completely shot down his first nebulous notion by stating that any rare gift or treasure he offered would not buy her heart.
He summoned her image into a nearby mirror and saw that she was sleeping, the silver-white luminance of moonlight turned her pale complexion into the finest pale alabaster and caught the droplets of tears on her golden eyelashes. She had cried herself to sleep then. This was not an auspicious start.
Interrupting his reflections appeared a globe of yellowy-pink light in a nearby table which coalleced into a card, an invitation to be precise. His best friend, Quatre the God of Light and Love, had sent him an invitation to visit him. Perfect! If anyone one would know how to win over the heart of a reluctant maiden it would be the god in charge of such things. He summoned his steed and made his way to the Divine Realms once more.
"… Just don't believe you did this!" Quatre said for the seventh time since Trowa had shown himself into his friends receiving room. His fixation on Trowa's kidnapping of the girl was beginning to grow tiresome. Certainly he had taken Midii to his abode against her will, but there hadn't been many options open to him; Une would never release her and Midii would not have come to the Underworld on her own.
"I did, and what's done is done," Trowa replied tonelessly. "It matters not how upset the king and queen of Romafeller are; I love her and I will not give her up."
"Trowa… I'm happy that you've found someone at last who makes you feel joy, but… Look, kidnapping her away from Romafeller is not the way to court her. Not to mention the fact that Lady Une is more pissed off than I have ever seen her, and considering the warrioress aspect she wore back in the days of the Daemon Wars, that's really saying something."
"Protector of Women and Goddess of Nature, Lady Une!" a nearby attendant suddenly proclaimed with his eyes widened in panic.
Into the room stormed the coldly enraged Queen of the Gods, her clothing no longer the soft silk and satins in all the colors of spring she normally wore but the leather and metal plate of the Warrioress. The winds whipped around her, and the earth gave a small tremble with each step she took, her aspect was that of the dangerous side of Nature in all of its fury and grandeur.
Trowa inclined his head coolly in acknowledgement of the Queen; Lady Une narrowed her eyes at him and prepared a lash of wind.
"I would not do that if I were you," Trowa replied with all of the calm, level-headedness he was well known for. "You'll wreck Quatre's house for one and a guest should be polite to his host."
"My handmaiden!" Une snapped, dissipating the wind. "You will return her to me at once!"
"I will not," Trowa replied. "But you needn't fear for her, I will take very good care of her I promise."
"You dare to disobey me!" Une hissed, partly in surprise and partly in fury.
"I answer to no-one. I am Lord of Death's Realm. My affairs are my own."
It was not often at all that anyone could get the upper hand with Lady Une, she could be quite mild and gentle most times but she had a streak of the battle-goddess she once was, the commander of hundreds of soldiers and the defeater of a thousand Daemons in a single battle. She was no-one to be trifled with. However, Trowa knew very well that he did indeed have the upper hand in this battle, for he was quite correct in his assessment; he was the God of the Dead and he was supreme within his bailiwick. Une could do nothing to coerce him into obedience for his will was a strong as hers was and his power as great in its own way.
"You are the God of the Dead and the ruler of the Underworld," she acknowledged. "But I am the Queen of all of the gods of Romafeller, furthermore, I hold sway over all of the forces of nature in the mortal realms; if my handmaiden is not returned to me I will withhold my bounty from earths children. Not only shall there grow no food to feed the mortals but I shall unleash my full might upon the land that it shall turn into a desolate wasteland wracked by storms, ripped apart by earthquakes and eruptions and flooded by torrential waters."
She paused to let her pronouncement sink in, observing the God of the Underworld as he reflected upon the ramifications of her words.
"I see. I will be very busy in the future then," Trowa replied coolly.
"Lady Une, you mustn't!" Quatre protested. "I love the mortals, please don't leave them to die I beg you!"
"You should listen to Quatre," Trowa pointed out. "It was the mortals who gave us birth, and it is the mortals that give us our power. If you kill them all, where will that leave you?"
Lady Une trembled with rage for a moment, but had to concede that his observation was correct. The Gods protected and provided for the mortals of that realm and they in turn thanked them by paying them worship and granting them the power to fulfill their work. It was a symbiotic relationship and if you removed one side from the equation the other side would soon follow it. If she allowed the mortals to die, then her power would drain away and she and possibly the other gods would fade to nothing. She could do nothing to him for each God was supreme within its own demesne, she had no choice but to cede the battle. Unless… Lady Une got an idea.
"Hear me," she said, her voice ringing in tones of command. "I will have my handmaiden back."
"You cannot challenge me Lady," he said. "For to do so you would have to enter my realm and once you do even a god cannot leave it without my permission, leaving you solely at my mercy."
"I will not enter your realm, and neither will anyone else," she replied. "If my handmaiden is not returned to me swiftly I, Goddess of Nature, will make every mortal stop aging. Not a man, woman nor child will die and your realm will fade nothing. You will become powerless; for who will worship the god of the underworld when they no longer need to fear dying? Think on it well Lord of Deaths Realm."
With a final tremble of the earth and a roll of thunder, Lady Une disappeared.
Trowa stared at the spot where she had stood a moment before, musing for a time, and then he abruptly turned his head to face his friend.
"So," he said quietly. "About getting Midii to fall in love with me…"
Quatre merely stared.
Midii lifted her head from the elaborate silk pillow, she felt stuffed and her eyes felt itchy and dry from weeping. She looked around her as the black velvet curtains swept back seemingly by themselves, moved by the immaterial hands of Trowa's invisible servants. The room was elegant in a dark sort of way; black marble flooring polished to a glassy finish combined with glossy dark woods and sumptuous drapery gave the room a feeling of desolate comfort. The doors to the massive wardrobe opened to reveal rack upon rack of silks and satins and velvets, even samite, in all of the colors of midnight. Simple stola's, gowns, robes, even tunics and trousers made of the finest materials, cut to fit her body perfectly were arrayed before her. They were matched by rows of shoes, slippers and boots, bejeweled with glittering beads of jet winking against their matching black backgrounds and diamonds cut to sparkle as the stars against the night sky.
One of the shadowed ones selected a dress for her, a stola of layer upon layer of shimmering black silk thin as the mist, each layer cut to tie in and accentuate the one beneath it so that it draped about her like a drifting shadow. The Shadowed Ones removed her rumpled dress that she had slept in and pulled the stole about her body and was fastened at each of her shoulders by brooches of the rare black diamonds with strings of fringe as long as her arms winking in and out of the folds of the layers of the slitted sleeves that fell from her shoulders to the ground like a black waterfall and fluttered delicately when she moved. The cords that crisscrossed under her breasts were of black diamonds, and the slippers that the Shadowed Ones chose to accompany the clothes were obviously designed to match. Was the God of the Underworld a closet fashion-horse? Midii shook her head; no way did that dismal man have any hobbies; he was too boring for them.
Curiosity moved her to explore the remaining rooms nearby (no way was she going back out into that disturbing Hall again, it had given her nightmare the previous eveing!). Her clothes trailed out behind her as she moved about. The door nearest the wardrobe led to a bathroom; it held a small black basin on a pedestal with a hole in the bottom and a silver spout coming out from the wall, when she touched the silver spigot, hot water poured out! The water cut off at another touch, amazing. She saw her reflection in the mirror; the black of the dress made her skin look as pale as the moon (or perhaps it was a trick of the odd lighting). To the far side of the room, underneath a large black domed window, a sizable bath was sunk into the floor. Carved of the same polished black stone with silver fixtures that all of the rest of bathroom sported the bath could easily hold her form lying down and if she stretched her hands out to either side neither of them would touch the sides; more like a small heated lake than a bath really. The was an ebony vanity with a large mirror in a silver frame also in the same room with a brush and comb set of black and silver waiting nearby and a silver shelf holding all manner of little vials, and bottles and boxes for scents cosmetics. One of the Shadowed Ones flitted over to the vanity and the brush hovered in mid-air, invitingly it seemed. Stubbornly, Midii took the brush in her own hand and pulled her hair over to one side of her neck to brush it. She left it loose, scowling at her Shadowed attendant, and continued her explorations.
Back through the bedroom and through a different door Midii found a sitting room with a set of couches, a divan, and three chairs upholstered in black velvet seated around an onyx table. Underneath lay a floor rug in black and silver in front of a long, high gothic fireplace.
Oh, very cheerful, she thought dryly.
The next room, an office, had yet more black in it. The desk was of ebony, as were the wooden chairs, the small side table and the cabinets for filing; the soft, upholstered chair behind the dest was upholstered in black leather with silver studs. There were two matching chairs to either side of the fireplace. The room (a billiard room) sported a stunning array of… yet more black. It was only in the library that she at last found a modicum of color, in the bindings and colors of all of the books there, and even those were dull and muted shades of brown, red, and… black. At least it was big; enormous in fact, with two levels and all of the books sorted into groups according to subject. There were even more books there than existed in the main library of Romafeller! She forgot for a time her distress as she wandered through the shelves; wonder-tales, historical chronicles, philosophies, natural sciences, even books on basic home crafts! The library had everything! Midii chose one at random out of a book of historical war accounts and asked the Shadowed One attending her to show her the way to the garden.
This is… she looked around at the dim open-air garden with weary dismay. Not even the garden had any color in it! All of the plants were dead! Midii plopped down gracelessly on a nearby stone bench and rested her chin on her hand. The light was murky there so she asked a Shadowed One to find her a garden lamp or two and light it for her. She obviously would have no duties that day to attend to Lady Une, so she might as well pass the time by reading a book; whether or not it was a good one remained to be seen.
She was surprised from her engrossing account of one of the battles of the Daemon Wars (she could only assume that some mortal scholar of history had speculated about it hundreds of years later) by the sound of a throat clearing. She looked up to see the lean, shadowed form of the castles master standing nearby. He held out a bouquet of white flowers to her; the petals glowed like moonlight and the pistils in the center were ended in tiny motes of light like stars.
"I created these just for you," he said without preamble. Midii would have gladly cast them back down at his feet and walked off in rejection but… she had a weakness for flowers of any sort; it might be that she came from stock of nature-spirits but she could not callously harm a plant. She accepted the flowers without a word (be damned if she would thank him!) and sat back down on the bench turning away a little to read her book and ignore her unwanted suitor.
He cleared his throat again after a moment and then gently tilted the top of the book down so she had no choice other than to look at him.
"Will you walk with me a while?" he asked softly.
"I suppose I have no choice," she replied ungraciously. "You are after all, the master of this realm. You control everything in it. I suppose if I don't do as you ask you'll set one of your shadow creatures to rend me limb from limb."
He blinked a bit as she stood abruptly and flowed past him; pausing a few steps away to look back impatiently at him.
"Well? Are you going to walk or just stand there staring at me?" she demanded. "The sooner we get your walk done with the sooner I can leave you."
Under her breath she muttered "Not for good, unfortunately."
Trowa said nothing and no flicker of emotion crossed his face; he simply followed silently after her. To Midii's relief he didn't make any attempts at conversation as they circumnavigated the dreary garden. When she turned to leave he gently stopped her.
"Have dinner with me?" he asked.
"I'm not hungry," she replied. No god or god-ling spirit needed to eat although a great many did so out of enjoyment of the past-time.
"Then perhaps you would like to dance; I know you greatly enjoyed the amusement in your previous home," he said. "I could summon fine music for you."
"I loved to dance because I was moved to joy," she replied coldly. "There is no joy here, so no; I do not want to dance."
He bowed shortly and said
"As you will have it then; I wish you a pleasant evening."
Although Midii had left the garden the winner in that dispute, she did not feel any joy in her victory. In fact, it left her feeling worse than when she had started. Nevertheless she had resolved to dislike him, and so dislike him she would. He had brought her here against her will and even though he could inflict her with his company, he couldn't make her like it! She'd do as he asked, but she wouldn't give an inch!
Two weeks later, Trowa was wondering what he had gotten himself into. She looked very beautiful in the dresses and jewels that his minions provided for her, but the sadness in her countenance had lessened his enjoyment of her company. It had only been a short time and yet it seemed that she had faded from the bright vibrant woman he loved to a wisp of a lady dressed in the black finery of death.
Whenever he requested her company she went along only grudgingly, scowling at him the entire time until he gave her leave to depart. Her conversations were short to the point of rudeness, her demeanor decidedly chill; she refused to talk about herself no matter what he asked to try to draw her out and she was patently impatient with his attempts to cheer her into a better mood. His gifts were politely but firmly declined and his attempts to get her to like her surroundings were rejected forcefully. He hadn't gained any ground at all and already he suffered for it; morale was low.
Perhaps I should give her back, he thought. She wasn't happy here in this dark realm and she was rightly taking it out on him. He felt like he was forcing himself on her with every action he took to get to know her a bit better; even the flowers he had created for her had been accepted only grudgingly and probably only for themselves and not because he had made them for her. Perhaps it would be better to ceded to Une's demand to return her handmaiden.
No, he resolved. No, if he did that he'd loose any chance at all of ever seeing her again let alone winning her heart. While she was still there in the Underworld there was a chance, however slim, that she would forgive him for stealing her away and come to love him. If he gave her back to Lady Une that slim chance would become no chance.
Quatre had not been of much assistance when it came to advice; he had wanted Trowa to return Midii to Romafeller despite Trowa's insistence that he would do no such thing no matter what the Lady threatened to do. Trowa was on his own as far as figuring out how to win her over went. He was not very practiced in matters of romance; it was not a wonder when every day brought him new aspects of death, but Trowa had been born as a battle-god and had an instinctive and keen understanding of the nature of War. It had been said in the mortal realm time and again (and Trowa had seen nothing to dispute the saying) that love and war were much the same. If he could understand the one, then he could understand the other.
So, he thought turning the situation over in his mind. She is a heavily strengthened fortress. The ruler cannot be bought off, nor bribed into submission which leaves only siege.
As a warrior he knew better than any other that laying siege to a walled fortress was the least effective and most costly of all war strategies; in short… it was the last thing any effective general ever did. Any man skilled in the principles of warfare knew to take the enemy's walled fortress by subduing rather than attacking. Protracted warfare was to be avoided; it only led to a decrease in morale of the troops and high costs for the support of the war abroad thus impoverishing the home nation. Strategy stated that a warrior first attacked the enemy's plans rather than attacking the enemy; if the enemy could be outmaneuvered rather than engaged in direct conflict then victory was of highest excellence.
Strategy also states that a commander who knows both himself and his enemy will be consistently victorious, while a commander who knows himself but not his enemy will only triumph occasionally. A commander who knows neither will loose, he reflected.
Trowa knew himself quite well, but his enemy was an enigma to him. The terrain was unfamiliar to him. He had already sacrificed his largest advantage, that of suing for alliance rather than direct conquest. The enemy had stated it position; a will to resist and had fortified itself against him. All in all, from a strategist's point of view he could be well and truly screwed.
Well, then. I have many disadvantages in the current theatre, he thought. But even attacking an enemy against such odds, it is not impossible to create a victory by changing the battlefield. A skilled warrior moves the enemy and is not moved by the enemy but I can do neither if I do not know my enemy. If I am to defeat her strengths then I must create a weakness. In order to figure out what might move her to place herself in a position of disadvantage I must first know more about her. Reconnaissance is crucial. Walking blindly into a battlefield will result in defeat, therefore I should become familiar with my enemy.
It was a good idea, however there was one problem with it; how was he to probe her strengths and weaknesses when she avoided him at all costs?
A wise military commander had once said that getting the enemy to approach of his own accord was a matter of showing him advantage. To know where he was strong and weak; probe him. To know the patterns of his movement; provoke him.
Hn, in order to understand the patterns of her thoughts and how she is likely to react I must first move her into a position that will enable me to observe her freely.
He mulled over it for a bit more and then finally struck upon an idea.
Midii rose from the soft bed in her luxurious prison to face another long day of getting that thick headed god of the underworld to realize that she didn't like him and send her home. It hadn't worked so far, but as he had said; hope sprung eternal and she had an eternity to hope. The realm of the dead was silent and…creepy (as usual). There were even times when she was almost glad of Trowa's presence, repugnant as it was, for at least then she was not alone in this frightening place where all of the shadows seemed to have lives of their own and all of the statues were of hideous monsters with gleaming eyes that seemed to watch her as she moved about the castle. She'd never let him know that there were times when she hated him less than usual, it would only encourage him. For the most part she kept to her rooms; except when she knew that he was gone from the Underworld on his errands in the mortal realm, then she usually found her favorite bench in the gardens or curled up in front of the fireplace in the library. Both were public places unfortunately, and thus were fair game for him to find her upon his return. Still, she'd gotten quite good at avoiding him for the most part, by being in the last place he expected. How long could this go on for?
She despised him on principle, but in reality she rather felt sorry for him. He was trapped inside this dismal world with no sunlight, no life, no company. And worse yet, he had the dismal task of collecting the dead; Midii had the notion vaguely that he probably saw enough in one day to leech the compassion out of a hundred men; god or no. It was no wonder he was so dull and humorless, what joy was there to be had in death and misery? She didn't want to understand him, she didn't want to sympathize with him or see his loneliness because she knew that if she did her heart would start to soften towards him and then she'd never get home. So every morning she prepared to harden her heart against the dozens of little kindnesses he did for her, and against the encroaching realization that she was really all he had in this world.
She tried not to think about it, tried to ignore it, but it was difficult because aside of reading or walking in the gardens there was really nothing for her to do but think. She lived a life of leisure now, the least of little services were done for her by her attendant Shadowed Ones who were ubiquitous; it was like they knew exactly what she wanted when she wanted it and they had it right there at her hand waiting for her. She had no real sense of purpose so she just drifted through the fog, trying to keep her mind off her situation. The reading helped; she hadn't had the leisure as Lady Une's handmaiden to read as much as she would have liked but now she had all of the time in the world, (possibly in eternity) however too long a time spent in that activity gave even her eyestrain and headaches. Still, the feeling of having no purpose to rise for other than to avoid the master of the manse only seemed to add to the dreariness of her situation, compounding her unhappiness.
A Shadowed One hovered nearby, waiting to dress and attend her. To her dismay a message globe also awaited her.
"When you are finished dressing, come and attend me in the garden," it said. It was Trowa's voice and it was not a request. Midii sighed, she was stuck for it.
"Damn," she grumbled, resignedly turning to pick a dress at random. She'd choose an unflattering one just to spite him if she could, but unfortunately they all looked good on her and ripping them all up, satisfying as that might be, would just make more work for the Shadowed Ones. So she chose a black silk stola that draped from one shoulder and diamond cords to tie over her torso with a matching diamond shoulder brooch. Her hair she brushed and braided herself. Slipping into her black leather sandals Midii reluctantly made her way to the garden with the Shadowed one preceding her, lighting lanterns to light her way.
She found him at the edge of the hedge maze, sitting on a bench of polished black stone with a black wrought iron table nearby holding a carved marble game of Stratagem. He appeared to be amusing himself while he waited for her by playing a game against one of his Shadowed Ones. It was obviously nothing more than a quick amusement; the Shadowed Ones weren't very bright and Trowa had only moved two of his pieces yet he was poised for victory.
"You rang milord?" she said, not bothering to keep the insolence from her tone. As ever, Trowa ignored her cheek and instead said
"I did," he said, neatly finishing off the game. He turned to her and gestured her sit; she stood. "You truly do not like it here then, even after two weeks? The luxury does not suit you? The fine objects and clothes do not please you? Your attendants do not make you happy?"
"They have nothing to do with what makes me unhappy here," she replied. "This place is… it's the complete opposite of anything that makes me happy."
"And I?" he pressed. "I do not make you happy?"
"You are the cause of my misery in the first place," she replied.
"Hm," he said, leaning back and considering her words. Was he actually going to get the message and let her go back home? A small precious hope welled up inside of her.
"I created this estate solely to please you," he mused dispassionately. "But you do not seem pleased at all. Despite the invitation I've left you with to arrange matters to your satisfaction you make no attempts to please yourself; why?"
"There's no point in changing anything," she replied. "I hope that you'll soon come to your senses and let me go back home where I belong."
"Do I displease you in my long absences when I must go to the mortal realm to do my duty there?"
"You relieve me when you leave for the mortal realm," Midii rebutted. "I no longer must find creative places to hide to avoid you."
"Your honesty is refreshing," he said wryly. "So then you must find the Shadowed Ones better company than I."
No, they frighten me too sometimes, she thought silently. He examined her from beneath his fall of bangs; Midii scrutinized the ground at her feet silently.
"You don't like them," he said. He sighed a bit.
"You must be very lonely here," Trowa said softly. Midii looked at him warily as the unbidden thought appeared in her mind:
At least I have you sometimes. How did you stand it here all of these millennia? I'd go mad without some form of company.
"Would you like to come with me?" Trowa asked. "We could spend time together… it would at least get you out of this palace and into the sunlight for a while, you look so pale."
"Your concern is touching," she said, trying to inject some acid into her tone but her effort was only half-hearted. She was turning his offer over in her mind. Visit the mortal realm? True she would have to do while she accompanied him but still… She had never been to the mortal realm before, and it would get her out into the sunlight. It would mean spending time with him, but the opportunity to leave this place for the sunlit world was too tempting to pass up; how bad could it be after all?
And maybe, she thought a little hopefully. Maybe I'll have the chance to escape him while he is occupied and return to my Lady.
"I accept," she said. "Even if it means having to be around you for a day, if I stay down here in this place for any longer I think I'll go mad."
"It will be pleasant to have company on my errands for a change," Trowa said mildly. "My horse is not much of a conversationalist."
"Neither are you," Midii replied. Trowa said nothing to that, merely bowing her to precede him to the front courtyard where, no doubt, his steed awaited.
When Midii emerged from the front doors she found to her surprise that not only did Trowa's dark steed await but that the beast had been hitched to a chariot. Midii's heart sank a little at the sight of a Shadowed One waiting nearby, Trowa had obviously called it to attend her (and likely also keep her from running off). She resigned herself to waiting for the right opportunity. The front gates opened, and Midii tried not to flinch away from the intimidating stone gargoyles to either side.
"They can come alive you know," Trowa mentioned, misinterpreting her fear as interest. "They'll keep you safe."
"Safe?" Midii said sharply but with confusion. "Safe from what? We're in the middle of the Underworld and it's your realm, what could possibly harm us here?"
Trowa looked down at her; from the depths of his cowl his eyes were keen and intelligent. He said
"Never forget that it is from the mortal soul that we gods draw our power and purposes; there is power within even a single soul to change the universe."
"But aren't you the one that gets to decide what happens to those souls?" she asked, feeling a little confused. All of the tales she had read said that the God of the Underworld held dominion over all of the souls of the dead. She had always thought that meant that he got to decide what happened to them after he took the soul from the Mortal's body. "I mean, you are Lord of Death's Realm, all souls who have passed beyond answer to you, don't they?"
"Yes and no," he replied. "I am more like a caretaker than a magistrate."
At her look of confusion he expanded.
"I and my servants free the souls from their flesh and point the way to the Shadowed Gate but each soul carries within it its own private judgment. The souls may answer my call should I ever need it and emerge from the Whisper Gallery to do my bidding but it is simpler to order my Shadowed Ones to attend to any tasks I need, or if it is something that requires logical thought that only humans can do it's easier to request a spirit from the River of Souls to do it for me. I have only once before needed to call upon the aid of the whispers."
"Only once?" Midii questioned, curious in spite of herself. "When was that?"
"Thousands of years ago during the Daemon Wars," he replied. "I had been newly invested into this task when we suffered a sudden recursion of an enemy we thought we had defeated. I summoned an army of souls; legion upon legion of fallen warriors answered my call and rode into battle beside me again."
"That story was true?" Midii said. She had always thought that particular tale of a mighty army of mortal souls rising once again at the command of the God of the Underworld had been nothing more than a tale invented by the mortals who worshipped Trowa to prove that of all of the Gods it was Trowa who was the mightiest. There was always great competition among the temples to expand their flocks, as well as among the gods. It fed into that whole symbiosis; the more mortals who worshipped the stronger the god became, so the temples competed with one another to bring in more worshippers in hopes of a reward from their chosen god.
"Yes," Trowa replied.
And all of the other gods called him the quiet one. That just went to show you… it was always the quiet ones.
Midii was never so happy to emerge from the shadows of that long dark tunnel as she was when she first felt that brightening shock of midday sun. She shut her eyes but let her other senses revel in sensory explosion. The sounds of the forest were sweetest music to her after so long a time of nothing but silence, the only sounds she'd ever heard in the Underworld were her own footfalls and Trowa's voice when he came to visit her. And the scents! Midii was surprised by how much she missed smell, there was no real scent there in the Underworld and it was one of those senses that you didn't notice was missing until there was nothing left to smell. At last, her eyes were adjusted enough to open and she eagerly feasted her gaze upon…
Green! she thought happily. An actual color!
All things in the Underworld were dull muted grays, shades of black, and lifeless monotone. She'd missed color the most of all! Sunlight! Air! Oh how she'd missed it! Not caring whether Trowa was pleased to see her happy or not, Midii couldn't keep her delight to herself and pointed out the different kinds of plants and flowers she knew; some of them had been gifts to the Mortals by her own parents. After a time the joy of being back in the light again receded a little and Midii was reminded that she was in the company of her keeper.
"So where are we going anyway?" she asked. "I thought that your Shadowed Ones harvested all of the mortal souls."
"I do not harvest them," he corrected. "And yes, the Shadowed Ones do a good deal of the routine work involving releasing a mortal's soul to the River. I am called in for the special cases. In this instance the soul in question cannot, by definition be taken and yet it has petitioned me to release it to the Shadowed Gate."
"I don't understand," Midii said.
"The soul in question belongs to an Immortal," Trowa explained. "Immortals cannot die unless their sacred grounds are deconsecrated and they are killed."
"And this Immortal is asking you to come and… kill it?"
"It's asking me to make it mortal so that it can die peaceably. Since it is a lesser Immortal and not one of the Greater Gods, it is within my power to grant its request," Trowa said, and then he added
"And it is not my duty to kill."
The chariot slowed delicately to a stop in front of a small plot of weed-choked earth in the outskirts of a growing city. In the middle of a cracked fountain that had not been cleaned in a long time drifted a small nature spirit. The poor thing was emaciated; its form unhealthily slender, its hair lank, its eyes dull as it gazed up at them in exhausted desperation.
Midii started for it, her eyes filled with pity. She turned to Trowa.
"Why is this poor thing so starved?" she asked.
"This little spirit was tasked by a small band of mortal priests to guard this grove of medicinal herbs long ago," Trowa said. "Unfortunately, the small temple fell into obscurity and there was no-one who remembered to release the little thing so it stayed here to tend the herbs it had been created for. When the woods around this place were still thick and wild that wasn't a problem, but with the encroachment of man on its spot of territory its cut off from any food supplies. The Immortal is starving to death, but because it is immortal it cannot die."
"That's awful," Midii said. "Why doesn't it find somewhere else to go?"
"It's tied to the land, and not powerful enough to release it from its own purpose," Trowa replied. "In this case, the only release it can find is death."
Trowa stepped down from the chariot and walked calmly over to the spirit. The pathetic little creature looked up excitedly at his approach, begging with its eyes for him to come for it.
"I've heard your request," she heard him say quietly. "And have come in answer to your summons. Are you certain that this is what you want? Once I release you to the Shadowed Gate, there is no turning back. Your soul will join the other whispers just as if you were a mortal."
The little thing chimed weakly at him, and he cocked his head to one side, listening.
"Very well," he said after a pause. "I hope you have the benefit of your reward."
Trowa reached downwards toward the little spirit, his shadowed cape and cowl drifting about him like dark fog as his hand emitted a silvery light. When he touched the little Immortal a soft silver-grey cloud shot through with tiny sparkling motes of light like stars coalesced about his hand. He drew it carefully away from the small ephemeral body of the spirit and held it briefly to his chest.
There came the sound of the wind sighing through the trees, like a thousand tiny whispers breathing then subsiding. Trowa's cloak momentarily billowed about him in a sudden directionless zephyr as motes of light, like sparks from a fire that shifted and were borne aloft on the wind, spiraled upwards and disappeared. The breeze died down and Trowa returned to the carriage. Midii said nothing as he took the reigns and signaled his horse to continue on his way.
She had just actually seen the God of the Underworld release a soul to the join the river as it wended its way through the Underworld towards the Shadowed Gate. It had been sad. Midii wished she could have done something to help the little spirit, but in this case it truly looked like death was the kindest thing for it. Perhaps his duty wasn't so bad then.
"Where are we going now?" Midii asked after a time of silence. Trowa wasn't much of a talker even though he was making obvious pains to try to talk to her in hopes of getting to know her better.
"There is a special case nearby," Trowa said. He slowed the chariot in front of a very modest mortal dwelling. Inside, Midii could hear a woman weeping. She followed quickly in Trowa's wake as he stepped in to the abode. A woman dressed in a coarsely spun stola knelt on the floor cradling a child in her arms, weeping as though her heart was broken. The tiniest breath of glowing fog hovered nearby with a few infinitesimal motes of light, like the last tiny spark before they all die out, drifting in the wisp. The baby's soul! Midii gasped, how terrible! Hovering nearby was a Shadowed One; but unlike all of the others (which were formless, shifting beings of night) this one was brightly colored with brilliant feathered wings and hands with long slender fingers to play a flute that it carried.
"That's Moki," Trowa said quietly to her. "He collects the souls of all of the infants and children who die. They like his bright plumage and his flute playing, and so they do not fear when they enter the Underworld."
Midii nodded, unable to speak.
Trowa reached for the wisp, but the mother held the body of her child to her and the fog would not be separated from the body that had held it. Trowa tried once more to take the infant's soul but the mother shook her head and clung harder to her child. Midii saw where the woman had cut open her wrists and used her blood to create a barrier circle around her; she was probably the village priestess or witch. The spirit of the child could not leave the circle she had cast, and probably would not leave while its mother wept so desperately.
"Mortal woman," Trowa said dispassionately. "Your child is dead. You must release its soul to the Underworld."
"No!" the young mother cried.
Trowa tried once more to take the soul from the barrier that she had built; he could cross it fine but the child's soul remained inside.
"Mortal," he said once more. "You know not what you do by detaining the child in this way. By keeping the soul here it cannot pass beyond; it is too young to know where to go on its own and if it cannot be collected by Moki, then it will become a ghost that will haunt this spot."
"You don't understand!" the woman screamed miserably at him. "This child was my only hope. The birthing of Yillisin left me torn inside; after this I can have no more!"
Midii could sense as Trowa gathered his power to him (probably deciding that he was through doing things the easy way); it was like every shadow in the room suddenly grew larger and longer, imbued with a supernatural presence that felt thick on the tongue as though you were breathing in mist. Midii suddenly grabbed his arm.
"Wait," she said. Trowa looked over at her, mildly surprised (of course, Trowa did everything mildly).
"It is my duty to collect this soul," he said. "I know you pity her; but the child is already dead, it cannot be spared."
Midii approached the woman, passing through the barrier with minimal effort. She knelt down, her black silk skirts pooling about her gracefully. The mortal raised her chin, looking up at Midii with her tear-moistened eyes brimming with grief.
"Trowa is right, young mortal," Midii said gravely. "Your son is already dead. You can do nothing more for him but to release his soul to the Shadowed Gate."
Tears welled up in the mortal woman's eyes. She tried to shake her head in denial.
"I can't…" the mortal wept. "My baby! My only hope!"
"I can't spare your child, but I can give you your hope," Midii offered. "My mother was worshipped as a spirit of fertility and healing as well as nature; some of her power passed to me."
Midii closed her eyes and reached down deep inside of herself, searching for that small wellspring of latent power that rested within her. It had been a while since she had done this; it hadn't been necessary in Romafeller because she'd been a handmaiden there and there were no mortals that had anything they needed and in the Underworld… that place seemed to have a strange effect on her latent abilities; Life and Death were rather inimical to one another it seemed. She coaxed a tendril of power to the surface and sent it flowing over to the mortal, smoothing the rippled scarred flesh and soothing it into renewal.
The mortal gasped, her hand flew to her abdomen.
"I can feel-!" she exclaimed. Midii nodded her head once and said
"You can have more children now, by the turning of the next full moon you will once more be at full fertility. Now you must release your son."
The young mother wiped away her tears and nodded reluctantly.
"I'll always think of what might have been," she said sadly. "But at least now I still have a chance."
The woman closed her eyes and the barrier dissipated. Trowa reached once more for the child's spirit and this time it came away in his hands. There was the sound of whispers and sighing wind…
"I wish to send my prayers of thanks to you goddess," the witch said formally. "Who shall I call upon to send my prayers?"
Before Midii could speak Trowa quickly replied for her.
"The Queen of the Underworld," he said.
"I am not!" she snapped, scowling at him and stomping out to wait at the chariot (but not before she caught him in the shin with a well placed kick in passing). She called to the mortal over her shoulder at the threshold.
"You may send your prayers to my mother, Neira the Green Mother. Just light a sprig of thyme and twirl it thrice about your head when the moon is full when you want your prayers to reach her."
"Thank-you, I will," the mortal replied. Midii departed the abode so she didn't hear the woman look at Trowa impishly and say
"Trouble in paradise oh Lord of Death's Realm?"
A few moments later the God of the Underworld rejoined his displeased partner for that day and said
"You did well in there. I have never been able to soothe the ones left behind; always I have had to take comfort in the fact that soon or late they too will join the river."
Midii said nothing, but the frown she gave him had less heat in it. She had done good work in there, so she supposed she could forgive him for taking liberties… besides, the sun was still shining.
The next place he took her too however, had the effect of sucking out any and all enjoyment she had taken out of the sunlight. It was a battlefield; or to be more accurate, it was a slaughter. There was death everywhere as evidenced by the numerous Shadowed Ones flitting here and there over the prone and bleeding bodies of men and women who no longer need cry out in agony from wounds left untended. Midii, sheltered all of her life, had never before been faced with such a magnitude of misery and after that first long uncomprehending stare where her mind could not quite seem to take in and process all of the myriad things thrown at her senses; the heavy coppery smell of blood, the carnage of butchered bodies open to the sun, the sounds of moans of agony as the living who could move separated themselves from the dead and went in search of a priest from the temple of Relena, goddess of Healing Midii closed her eyes tight and turned her face into Trowa's cloak.
Trowa was utterly unmoved by it all, his emotionless eyes taking in the bloodbath before him with calm equilibrium.
"Over here!" a feminine voice called impatiently. Midii looked over (trying to keep her eyes carefully away from the misery before her) and saw a young woman dressed in the armor and helm of a soldier. She had long blonde hair down to her knees, pale blue eyes and a haughty expression. At her feet lay a fallen warrior with armor of electrum and a blue cape; obviously he was one of her chosen Heroes.
"It's about time you arrived," she said. "My warrior has been—Who is this?"
"Dorothy, this is—"
"Midii, Lady Une's favorite handmaiden," Dorothy surmised. "How perfectly wonderful! You've decided to fight."
Out of all of the former War gods and goddesses in Romafeller, Midii had always found Dorothy to be the strangest. She was convinced that war was a beautiful thing and that man was most noble when he was fighting for his beliefs; and yet the war goddess spent all of her time with Relena, the Goddess of Peace and Healing trying to convince the goddess who held peace supreme that war was in fact the thing which ennobled mankind. Perhaps she just needed someone to argue with, but Midii thought it was more likely that she just liked to have someone to inflict her stories and raves upon. Relena was just too nice to tell her to bugger off.
"Lady Une is most upset with you for this particular stunt, not even her beloved Treize can calm her rage. I'm sure it will be a beautiful battle, I'm looking forward to it," Dorothy said enthusiastically.
"Glad I could make your day," Trowa said dryly. "Now what do you want?"
"Relinquish this warrior's soul," Dorothy said, getting down to business. "I wish to immortalize him."
"Noted," Trowa said. He gathered his shadowed power in his hand and enveloped the fallen warrior in shining darkness. A moment later it dissipated without a sound.
"He's all yours now," Trowa said.
"Oh Trowa," Dorothy called as he turned to take Midii away from the scene that obviously distressed her. "I'm looking forward to a glorious struggle, one worthy of a ballad at least; don't disappoint me."
Trowa said nothing as he stepped onto the chariot again.
"Take me away from here," Midii asked quietly, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. "It's terrible."
Trowa looked down at her calmly, his face a mask of detachment as he said
"I am the God of the Underworld, such sights are very common to me; but if it disturbs you I will not remain behind to supervise."
He lifted a hand and the shadows of the evening stretching across the battlefield lengthened and coalesced, thickening with that heavy feeling on the back of her tongue. There came the sound of sighing wind and a thousand tiny whispers…
A horde of misty spirits floated up and followed the Shadowed Ones toward the River of Souls in the Underworld.
The chariot bore them swiftly away from the death and carnage and Midii breathed a sigh of relief when she was taken back out to where the air was fresh and there were no bodies littering the ground. Such terrible misery, how did he bear it?
"Aren't you at least a little sad Trowa?" she demanded, her raw emotions making her unusually prickly. "There were so many dead mortals there. They all died in pain and sadness. Can't you at least cry a little for them?"
"I've been a soldier from the day I was Born, and I used enough sad faces so long ago that I don't have any more," he said. His tone was even, without a trace of emotion.
He's so cold and unfeeling, Midii thought, suppressing a shiver. How can he see this terrible battlefield, all those people suffering in agony, and not feel anything for them? Was it true that he had no heart then? But he was so warm and steady at her back; she leaned back against him…
The mortal world blew past them in a blur of light and color as Trowa's steed pulled the chariot to their next destination. They stopped outside of a large, imposing stone building and Midii got a sudden feeling of chill. Something wasn't right here. Midii felt an aura of… something; she just knew that whatever lay inside was something she didn't want to see.
"What are we here for?" Midii asked, twisting to look up into Trowa's shadowed face.
"A group of mortals dares to impinge upon my authority," Trowa said. His voice was the same even tones he always had, but Midii could swear she heard the slightest edge in it.
Trowa stepped down from the chariot to enter the building, passing through the doors as if they were nothing more than illusion. Midii followed quickly after him, and then wished that she hadn't. That aura she had sensed was pain and misery. Hung along the walls from chains in untenable positions like some kind of macabre statuary were mortals, still living, but sporting all sorts of terrible bruises, cuts, and mutilations. Midii had never before seen with her own eyes the evidences of torture, but now that she had she was shaken. They were in such terrible pain she couldn't see how they could bear it; indeed some few of the mortals could actually see Trowa and looked to him with the same kind of longing that she had seen in the eyes of the nature spirit earlier. Midii couldn't bear to watch another creature in that kind of pain and do nothing to ease it; she tugged at the back of Trowa's cloak to get his attention. He paused to look back at her.
"Trowa, we have to help them." she said firmly.
"No," he said coolly.
"No! What do you mean no!" she demanded. "These mortals are in agony; we can't just do nothing and leave them this way!"
"It is not our place to interfere," Trowa said. "We're not here for them."
"How can you be so callous! Don't you see their suffering?" she shouted at him. Her words had no effect on the cool detachment in his gaze, Trowa simply turned away and continued on to his destination. Midii frowned at his back and set to one side to help them herself; she could at least unbind their chains and bring them down from that wall so that they could escape. But when she reached for the mortal Midii discovered that there was some force keeping her in place and unable to help them.
"Trowa!" she called angrily into the darkness ahead. "Unleash me!"
"Mine is not the power that holds you bound Midii," his voice drifted back to her from the shadows.
Midii rushed ahead to confront him.
"Then why couldn't I set them free?" she demanded when she reached him.
"We aren't here for them," he replied. "We cannot interfere with their fates. That is not within my authority."
They passed through a last door and Midii gasped at what she saw there.
On a stone altar in the center of the room a man was stretched out naked but that alone would not have had the power to shock her. The man was held to the table by a series of spikes driven through his skin and blood oozed sluggishly from a thousand tiny cuts all across his body. He was being bled out and all of his blood was being collected into an enormous round bowl. There were three robed attendants methodically cauterizing each of the wounds with a hot iron spike while the man screamed in agony, weeping and begging for them to stop or at the very least to kill him and end his misery. There were other robed men nearby chanting over a forge and bellows, making something out of glass or metal but it was the man screaming helplessly on the altar that held her attention.
"Stop it!" Midii cried. She rushed forward to try to knock the pokers from the robed men's hands but was stopped once more by an invisible force.
"Trowa!" she yelled, struggling against the power that held her captive. "Let me go!"
"It's not my power that holds you bound," he said emotionlessly. "Those men can't see you or hear you anyway so any action you take will be ineffectual."
" I won't believe that," she said stubbornly. "Don't you see his suffering? How can you stand by and let that happen!"
"It is not my place to interfere with them," Trowa said tonelessly and he calmly walked over to where the mirror resided. "Excepting of course, in those places where they interfere with me."
"But look at this evil thing they are doing to another of their own kind," Midii said, pointing to the man on the table who let out another hoarse scream of agony as one of the robed men plunged the poker into the man's flesh again. Midii flinched away, covering her ears and shrinking back into Trowa's cloak.
"It is unfortunate, but no more or less than has been done to other mortals at other times," he replied without feeling.
Trowa simply walked over to the robed monks working on the forge and gestured and the thing they were forging; a white-hot mirror of silver and glass. The shadowed cloak bristled with power for a moment, whispering around him and the mirror shattered; exploding into fine white powder. The mortals who made the thing, unfortunately, did not die, they were not even harmed.
Midii felt tears welling up in her eyes as the man staked to the altar whimpered and moaned in agony. She sniffled as they flowed down her cheeks. He was in such pain, such torment, and she could do nothing… nothing. Midii didn't think she could bear it. She looked at her captor imploringly, humbling herself to ask with her eyes that he do something to help that poor mortal.
Trowa looked back over at her. It could have been a trick of the shadows of his cowl but Midii could have swore that she saw a flicker of emotion cross his imperturbable demeanor. His voice had its usual stoic emotionless tones as he said
"I do not have the authority to visit death to mortals for my own desires," he said in response to her silent plea. "I collect the souls; I do not decide their fate for myself."
"You can't punish them?" she asked hesitantly. If there were ever any mortals deserving to have a visit from death, surely it was these ones! Look at how they treated their fellow living being!
"No, I can't," he replied.
"But why not?" she asked, not understanding. He was the God of the Underworld, surely he could take the souls from these mortals!
"I answer to a larger universe Midii, as do the rest of the Gods," Trowa said calmly. "It is not my place to interfere."
"Make it stop," she whispered. "I can't… I can't take it."
She buried her face in his shadowed cloak, as she wept helpless tears of sadness for such a terrible fate to be delivered upon a mortal. Trowa held her securely, not certain whether he should be happy that she was in his arms or sad that she was so upset. He could not understand why she wept so for the mortal; Trowa had seen far worse things in his time. Still, he should try to comfort her, say something at least.
"I am not allowed to take sides," he said; but this time his voice sounded a little different, softer. There was still that hollow quality to it, but at the same time there was an edge of something that had been dulled by the passage of centuries.
"I have been the God of the Underworld for almost as long as there have been mortal souls to pass through the Shadowed Gate; and before that I had been a soldier from my very first instant of awareness. Death is all I know. This scene that affects you so much is one that I have seen many times over the centuries in many different forms. Despite the fact that mortals suffer, and that mortals make others suffer, I cannot choose who lives and who dies. I am never allowed to "fix things," I have not the authority to order a mortals death before his time. I cannot be selfish in that way; I am mandated by my position to always be impartial; to never take sides in my task no matter what the offending mortals crime."
"How can you bear it?" she said sobbingly, her heart aching for the needless suffering of a living creature at the hands of one of its own brethren.
"I have no choice," he replied.
"Come," he said, when her weeping would not cease. "This place distresses you, we shall leave it."
He gently scooped her up into the night-folds of his cloak and bore her outside to his waiting chariot. She was too distressed to withstand more of the kinds of things that he saw on his rounds. Trowa mentally cursed himself for being four kinds of an idiot; if he had been thinking with his head he would have realized that Midii wasn't accustomed to being around the kinds of things that he had known all of his life. She was very sheltered; as Lady Une's handmaiden she had been kept close for her entire life within the bounds of that paradise of the gods. Death was all but a foreign concept to her and here he was bringing her face to face with some of the more tragic aspects of it.
Once they were back out in the sunlight and fresh air (Trowa solicitously brought her to a nice forest glen to recover) she seemed to improve a bit; at least her coloring got better. He spread his dark cloak out on the ground for her to lie upon and ordered the Shadowed One attendant to bring her mortal food and drink; in a trice it was back with a small feast.
"Thank-you," she said softly as he offered her an exotic fruit from some far away land across the ocean and to the south.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked after a time.
"A little," she said, obviously still shaken. She looked up towards him (even with the two of them sitting he was still much taller than she).
"It was horrible," she said, her voice still raw with sorrow for the mortal. "How can they do such things to each other? Is this the source from where we divine beings draw our strength?"
"Mortals are capable of cruelty and evil towards one another," Trowa allowed, searching for the words to answer the questions she had not asked. "However, that is not their only, or even their most common aspect. They are capable of great good as well; great kindness, great sacrifice, great strength. Not every mortal is a saint, but again not every mortal is a sadist either. Mostly they run to the better side of the middle; they face the choice to better themselves by harming their fellows and they turn away from it. There are some that revel in their darker side, but I believe that for every darker soul is one that embraces the light."
"Do you see things like that back there every day?" she asked.
"Nearly every day," Trowa replied honestly. "I suppose it is the nature of my profession to see the darker aspects of humanity."
"Do you… do you like what you do Trowa?" she asked, a little hesitantly. Trowa considered her words and replied
"I neither like nor dislike my occupation," he said. "This, and being a soldier, is the only life I know. I have no basis for comparison."
"I see," she said, then after a pause she added. "That doesn't seem very fair."
"How so?" he questioned.
"Well it just seems… It seems like you got shafted," she said, indignation coloring her voice. "All of the other gods got to pick a realm and duties that suit their nature and they just decided to give you this because you were the quiet one. It's not fair that your life is so dismal!"
Trowa looked amused at her indignation on his behalf; it was nice to see her sympathizing with his plight instead of telling him to shove off.
"Well," he said after a silent pause. "Things aren't all bad, recently."
"How so?" she questioned in turn.
"Recently," he said. "I've had you in my world."
Midii didn't say anything to that, but her cheeks flushed a little. Trowa wasn't sure what that reaction meant but he decided to take it as a good sign. Since he was indeed the God of the Underworld Trowa made an executive decision and decided to hold off on his duties for the rest of that day and spend it with her. He took her around to visit some of the more amazing ruins and long-forgotten ancient tombs he was privy to; created centuries ago by mortals and then later forgotten by their descendants; they were filled with murals, statuary and in some cases great treasures. He enjoyed sharing his knowledge of the civilizations of the ancients; how they had lived, their architecture, the special fighting styles that they had developed. Midii seemed to be warming up to him, or at least seemed to be interested in what he had to say.
He was pleasantly surprised when, that evening, she emerged from her rooms when he was present and joined him near the fireplace in the library.
"This doesn't mean I like you," she warned him as she seated herself in a chair brought over by a Shadowed One.
"Thank you anyway," he said. "I'm pleased that you would stomach your dislike for me to keep me company this evening."
"Well," she said, grudgingly. "One cannot play Strategy against the Shadowed Ones; it's no challenge. So you see that I have no choice but to seek you out if I want to have a good game."
"I can promise you a good game," Trowa replied. "I've had many centuries to perfect the art of Strategy."
"I should give you a fair warning," Midii said, taking the silver pieces for herself. "I was beating Trieze every other game back when I was still in Romafeller. I will give you no quarter."
"I shall look forward to playing against you then."
Despite her brave words, Trowa soundly defeated her in that game but in the rematch game she demanded in order to soothe her pride she made him fight for every piece. It almost seemed as if she was reluctant to leave him when she pleaded exhaustion and departed for her rooms. Things were looking up for Trowa, but despite the days progress Midii still remained wary of him. He still didn't know nearly enough about her to even begin to try to understand her. He needed a way to both lower her guard enough to study her in her natural state as well as gain her trust (or at least her gratitude) by giving her something that might make her happy. If she were happy, she'd want to come back; but what could he give her?