"I've decided that I will throw a ball here in the Underworld and invite all of the other deities to attend."
Midii blinked at him in surprise from across the board of the game of Strategem they played. Of all of the things she had thought he might say to her, that one had not appeared anywhere on the list. The God of the Underworld was notoriously reclusive; the other gods (with a few exceptions) usually only happened across him in the course of his duties. There had never been any cases of the gods visiting in this realm that she had ever heard of; and to throw a party!
"To that end I want you to prepare the castle for it," Trowa said, jarring her unpleasantly out of her thoughts.
"Excuse me?" she said coldly. "You want me to do what?"
"You've made it quite clear that you find this palace unsatisfactory in your sight," Trowa replied neutrally. "I wouldn't want to make a poor impression upon my peers, so I want you to ready this place so that they will find it more comfortable, plus write the invitations, find music, and other necessities. I assume that you would know more about it than I, having been Lady Une's favorite handmaiden."
"Preparing for the party is not a problem for me," she said lifting her chin a little. "But I wouldn't want to do anything that might make you happy, you might start to think that I like you and I don't."
"I would think that, by now, that goes without saying. But if I must make it a demand, I will."
Midii thought quickly, a demand was not the same as a command; it was still just barely on the shade of a request, only not so polite. She might get away with a refusal but it was best to be cautious.
"And if I refuse?" she said, meeting his eyes.
"That is, of course, your right," he said impassively. Midii's eyes gleamed with triumph.
"However," he added. "You would loose your chance for your reward."
"What, more jewels?" she riposted dryly. "No thank-you. The only reward you could offer me that I would value would be-"
"Your freedom," he said equably. Her heart leapt. Could he mean…?
"For one month," he qualified. Her heart receded back again. It wasn't a promise to release her from this place at last and let her go home where she belonged, but after having spent so much time in this miserable dreariness, any chance to get away from it for however long an amount of time was to be leapt at. It was better than nothing.
"One month?" she asked, needing to be certain. "And I could return to my home? I could stay there for all of that time?"
"You can travel anywhere you wish," he promised. "But you must give me you most solemn oath that, once that time is done with, you will return here to me."
She thought hard about it for a moment. An oath amongst Gods was a serious thing; a God or godling spirit (like she was) could not betray her sworn vow. Once it was given, it was binding. If she swore her oath to return to Trowa once that time was done with then she would be bound to do so and nothing or no-one could interfere on her behalf. To do so would make her Oathbreaker, and that was not to be thought of. Still, it would be a month. Three weeks in which she could bask in the sun, talk with her friends, and stroll through her sunlit garden! She wanted that badly.
"Very well, I agree," she said at last. "I'll prepare for your gala, create the perfect celebration in return for your promise to release me home for a month and my promise to return once that time is done."
"Good," he said, examining her measuringly. He offered her his hand; she clasped it and they shook on the bargain.
"In order to complete the task you've set me I'll need access to the authority and resources to get it done," Midii added after a brief pause. Trowa looked vaguely indulgent for a moment as he said
"Of course. As God of the Underworld I grant you full and equal use of my power and authority, provided," he qualified, raising a long elegant finger. "That you do not use it to escape me."
"I won't," she said. Then at his pointed look Midii grudgingly added. "You have my word."
She didn't like it, but she was willing to lay aside her enmity towards him and jump through a few hoops if she had to in order to win free of this place for even a brief time. Midii felt an odd, foggy chill settle over her as Trowa granted her the powers of the Lord of the Underworld. Midii turned without a backwards glance to survey the palace in earnest and take stock of all that needed to be done.
He's granted me his powers and bargained from me a purpose that suits his ends, she thought as she waded slowly through the luminescent fog that drifted in and out of the chambers. I can't take overt revenge on him of course, but I'm not above making life a little unpleasant for him. This is going to serve him right.
When Trowa had placed all of the resources of the realm of the dead at Midii's disposal he hadn't quite been expecting… this.
"This" was a miniature army of disembodied spirits flitting this way and that, overseeing tasks that she had assigned to them. She seemed to take particular delight in usurping his private quarters with her demonic army of hench-seamstresses to festoon all of his walls with hangings of (of all things in Deaths Realm) pink draperies. She said they were colors called "heart's rose" and "mauve" but they looked pink to him. Before this exercise in amusement for her had begun he wouldn't have known a what a corduroy was if it had swatched all over him but she appeared to take great delight in having one of her evil minions educate him… at length… with samples. She also seemed to take delight in seeking out his opinion about niggling little trivialities that he had not the first clue about. How was he to know the difference between eggshell and ecru? He took it all gamely in stride however, it was all part of his plan and he was learning lots.
In a matter of two days, just two, she had built an organized and disciplined army of specialists and menials that would rival to work of any great general. She'd gone from having one or two Shadowed attendants under her command to having annexed all of them to her command. Command was a good word for it too; she ran the operation with all of the seasoned expertise and precision of a general in the field.
In an afternoon, she'd taken the powers he had gamely granted to her in order to fulfill her task and she had run with them. She'd plucked out various spirits from the river of souls, men and women who had excelled in the fields of interior design, fashion, architecture, calligraphy and a variety of other fields that he assumed had something to do with preparing this estate to host an extravagant party and had set them in charge of small groups of Shadowed Ones. The meeting she had held on the evening she had assigned duties and missions rivaled any tactical meeting held on the field. Trowa found himself admiring her organization, her poise, and her good sense. Hers was the hand on the rudder and her impromptu army of spirits and servants well knew who was Lady of the Manse.
If I could get the girl to fall in love with me, we could well be a perfect match, he thought, pleased. …Or I could be facing a hostile takeover.
That could be fun too.
His plan was two-fold, really. The mission he had assigned to her would allow him to observe her in her natural state so that he could gather at least a little intelligence; and incidentally it would forestall Lady Une making good on any of the threats she had made when last they had met. Midii would return to Romafeller temporarily, which would buy Trowa some time to work his way around the will of the Queen of the Gods. That was incidental really, what truly mattered to him was his reconnaissance on Midii. If he could just begin to understand her…
Well, he had gathered plenty of intelligence in the last two days; aside of finding that Midii had a ready grasp on the organization and deployment of specialists he had discovered that she had an active mischievous streak. Like the time when she had "accidentally" ordered his wardrobe of garments befitting the Lord of the Underworld replaced with… well, the replacements had a lot of frills and lace and a good deal of them had been pink, and the tight hose had caused him to shudder. She had also, out of the generosity of her heart he was certain, taken it upon herself to "spruce up" his personal chambers. Gone was the collection of swords, maces, pikes, spears and other implements of destruction that he had collected over the years and arrayed in his study, and in their place had appeared a cozy tea service on the table and hanging wall decorations featuring cute little animals with doe-like eyes. She had also somehow contrived to have the voice of some soprano belting out an aria piped into his chambers, activated whenever he attempted to summon one of her Shadowed Ones (the ones she had pressed into service, that is). Despite her little side-mission to make his life miserable, (Trowa was certain that she had assigned a special task-force to attend to him personally) her primary task of preparing the estate to host the fete proceeded apace.
Her first endeavor on her campaign was to clear the entire estate of the creeping mist by ordering the Shadowed Ones to gather it all, and then to condense the luminescent vapor into brightly glowing liquid which she then had placed in crystal globes and set into all of the chandeliers, wall sconces, and lamps. Then she and her captains of lighting design had debated over whether or not the ensuing pure white light was not, in fact, too harsh for the occasion. They had gone on to place yellowed shades over them to dim them down a little.
Because Midii was now, in effect, Lady of the Realm, it and all things in it answered to her the same as they answered to him; everything, including the castle that he had himself created.
The sinister black marble pillars and ribbed arches of carved stone in the shape of starved souls that supported the vaulted ceiling of the main hall had been made less sinister by changing them to plain mirrored pillars with water running down the sides, causing the images the mirrors reflected to waver. Instead of the arches carved to the shape of despairing souls with their arms outstretched to support the weight of an unbearable load, the figures had been changed slightly to resemble the peaceful saints who supported his temples. The main hall floor had been changed from polished cuts of black marble to a whole piece of clearest crystal that could let one see the pool of clear water she had placed beneath. The bottom of the pool was mosaic tile with bright lights that shone up from through the rippling play of water that flowed down into the pools from the sides of the pillars, through the clear glass of the floor and up to the ceiling; the mosaic depicted a scene from the Wars, from one of his own greatest battles in fact. He was quite pleased by that; even if she was likely getting the account from one of her consultants it showed that she was at least learning something of him. The dome of opaque black glass that he had placed at the top of the pillars in the main hall she had decided to leave intact as a backdrop for the play of the natural changing ripples of light caused by the light shining through the water. Sharp edges of light and shadow danced through the clear air, the movement of the light emphasized by the soft, thin carpet of glowing mist that she left to hover over the glass, moving with the currents of air. The overall effect was mesmerizing. Clearly she had the taste not to choose to blanket things with gaudy illusions when subtle changes of light and tone would add more over all effect than the finest crafted illusion.
The grand dining room to the left of the main hall had been left tiled in polished black marble to offset the stark white of the linins she had chosen to dress the one long table that dominated the room; which he had originally furnished in polished black marble. Perhaps as a concession to the overall tenor of the realm all of the dishes were shining black with a hematite stripe about the rim picking up the color of the floor; the stemware was of black crystal and the white light gleamed off from darkened silver utensils and candlesticks. The long room on the other side of the main hall had been changed; the formerly stone wall had been changed to clear glass leading out into the central courtyard of the garden. Trowa didn't know how she'd managed it since the central garden in the castle was to the back of the main hall, but there it was. The garden was lit with floating will o' the wisps placed inside black wrought iron lanterns. There was nothing to be done about the dead plant life (since this was after all the Realm of the Dead) so Midii had made a virtue of necessity and replaced all of the shriveled, dead plants with flowers of cut black crystal and climbing vines of blackened wrought iron.
Midii was in the process of weeding through the souls of the dead she had plucked from the river to assemble a small symphony of players to play music for the inevitable dancing as Trowa walked up to her.
"You've accomplished a remarkable amount in the last four days," he said as an opening gambit. She started a little as she turned to face him; apparently she had yet to grow accustomed to the way he made no sound as he moved. "I admit to being impressed."
"You should be," she replied. "I've taken your estate from a tastelessly cold monochrome and added style, elegance, and illumination while keeping the character of your realm intact. After all, your guests are coming expecting to see something suited to the Underworld and would be disappointed to be met with a copy of Romafeller."
"So it was for my guests benefit and not to see me comfortable then?" he inquired.
"I would as soon see you uncomfortable as possible," Midii replied candidly, and her features pulled into a teasingly thoughtful expression. "It is definitely a project for the future."
Trowa avoided any remarks on the future; his bringing up the subject would only remind her that he held her here, which in turn would cause her to close up on him and he wanted to evade that. He'd try to keep her in her relatively open mood as long as possible in hopes of gleaning valuable information for his own campaign. Instead, he tried another compliment. He had been diligent in his praise of her efforts and her beauty in hopes of winning her regard but thus far his efforts had met with no success.
"How could I possibly be miserable when I'm near such beauty?"
"I'm sure I'll figure something out," she grumbled. "Are you going to help or are you going to stand around wasting my time? If you have nothing useful to do then begone so I can finish here."
He found her shooing motions cute. A long dormant and repressed streak of puckishness suddenly bobbed to the surface and he said
"Well, since you put it that way, perhaps I will stay and help."
"You'll only be in my way," she replied as she absently nodded her head in acceptance of one soul's playing.
"There must be something I can do," he sallied.
Midii opened her mouth to deny his claim but paused.
"Those flowers," she replied. "The white ones you gave me. They wouldn't be out of place in the garden."
Trowa hid his surprise. She was actually (in a way) inviting him to participate! Well, it looked like this mission of his had granted him unexpected benefits; usually she made every effort to be rid of him but it looked like her attitude towards him might be softening a little. Perhaps there was hope of being invited to spend more time with her.
"And don't think that just because I let you help me with those flowers of yours that I like them or you," she added as a parting shot before wandering off to see to her next task. "Because you know I don't like you. I just don't like to settle for less than my best on a task, no matter who it's done for. It's a matter of pride."
Or not. Trowa shrugged; at least he had gleaned some information from her. She took pride in her work; a possible point of weakness in her fortress walls for him to exploit in his campaign. In this particular war he'd take his victories where he could find them.
Midii sighed a little to herself. Damn the man. As a gambit to make her warm to the place it was actually starting to work… in Romafeller Midii had not had any say in so much as a placement of a fresh bouquet without the approval of Lady Une; her heavy hand and work were seen everywhere from the light filtering through the sheer white curtains to the mathematically perfect flowerbeds and hedges of the inner gardens. Everything in Romafeller was ordered, organized and approved by Lady Une. Even in Midii's own private quarters the things she placed about the room on a way that felt "lived in" were silently returned to a place that was more organized and fitting to them by the invisible air servants as soon as Midii's back was turned. She hadn't really thought of it much then but here in the Underworld, when she told her Shadowed Ones to "leave it" they left it and she could order her things to her liking. Now she had been invited to stretch her talents and imagination to the limits; turning the murky, dismal Underworld into a place on par with any of the estates of the other Greater Gods while keeping its basic character intact was a very big challenge and she found herself liking the challenge.
As a change of pace it was certainly… interesting. In Romafeller Midii had known down to the minute what each day would bring her; how long she would spend helping Lady choose her raiment and dress, how long she would spend attending Lady at breakfast, her precise duties in weeding through Ladies missives and on and on. Everyday had been the same routine over and over; even her afternoon stroll and dance had been predictable and it was the one time when she had ever really felt free. She wasn't happy in this dark gloomy Underworld, but she had worked with what she had and now felt a feeling of pride and triumph in her accomplishment. She was particularly proud of her work on the grand Hall; those pillars of twisted, starving lost souls caught mid-moan had been the first thing to go. What could this man be thinking? Was he trying to scare everyone away? (He would certainly have succeeded with her if there had been anywhere to run to.) Or was it just that…
Or is it just that that's all he knows? she wondered.
Trowa spent each day in the mortal realms visiting to mortal a wide array of deaths. He knew death in all of its forms; old age, sickness, plague, murder, famine, sacrifice and… torture. Everyday he was treated to the worst that humankind could do to itself and he was tasked with the duty to never take sides, no matter what the situation he was faced with. Death was not allowed to take revenge; the soul supplied its own form of punishment and despite the fact that he ruled deaths realm, the adjuration of souls was not his responsibility. He seemed cold, emotionless and utterly without compassion yet when he was faced with circumstances like those every day how could he be anything else?
Added to that was the fact that Trowa spent all of his time among the dead and it seemed that his only constant companions were the Shadowed Ones; not terribly bright and though they were useful they weren't any suitable companion for a person. He wouldn't get any intellectual stimulation out of them certainly and Midii could tell even in the short time she had spent with the Lord of Death's Realm that if nothing else Trowa was possessed of a keen intellect. He could opine knowledgably about any of the classics of literature, art and philosophy although his interests tended to run to historical accounts and military campaigns(possibly because he had been near to hand for all of them).
The Underworld was a lonely, dismal place. Trowa was rarely invited up to Romafeller to visit and intruding unasked was rude. He couldn't kidnap a few mortals the dally there in the Underworld with him for though he was its ruler, the very nature of the Underworld itself killed anything mortal that entered it regardless of its master's wishes (Midii didn't count since she wasn't mortal). Even though he spent a good deal of his time in the mortal realm, it was vanishingly likely that any of them would invite him to any feasts or revelries. Even his mortal worshipers were a very dreary lot, they liked to shave their heads and walk about barefoot chanting dour laments. He had few friends and no real companions. Was it any wonder then that he had… Stubbornly she pushed that thought aside before it could blossom into a full realization in her mind.
Midii didn't want to understand him, but it appeared that she had been born into this world with the unfortunate gift of being able to see both sides. She was stubborn however and in this case (because of the situation she was in) just because she could see both sides didn't mean she had to look at them. Whenever understanding tried to rear its moderate head Midii promptly tied it up and stuffed it back into a closet in her mind. She didn't want to understand him! Understanding him would mean coming to see his sorry plight, which in turn would lead to her feeling sorry for him, which in turn would lead to her trying to alleviate some of his sorrow, which then meant spending more time with him, which would lead to her getting to know him, which would likely mean coming to care for him and after that it would all be over with and she'd never leave this place… so she obstinately turned a blind eye to the situation she was faced with. She told herself that she wasn't actually enjoying the evenings she spent with him playing Strategem; that she was just there with him at those times so she wouldn't have to be alone. She told herself that she hadn't turned his entire wardrobe pink so that he would seek her out and she could see the look on his face (well, actually that part had been kind of fun!). She told herself that all of the little kindnesses he showed her; giving her equal power to work within his realm, setting aside his work to tour her around some ancient ruins in the mortal realm, creating new flowers for her every day, sending her lost music of the ancients to play for her in the garden, creating beautiful illusions out of the mists of stories lost to time and battles fought long ago… she told herself that all of the things he did for her were tricks to win her favor and not done out of a simple desire to see her smile. She brushed the thoughts of her dour abductor aside to concentrate on the task that would allow her to visit her home in Romafeller once again, and sternly told herself that she was not going to worry about what Trowa was going to do while she was away.
"The last of the invitations have been sent," the ghostly form of her calligrapher informed her.
"Well then, in three days we shall have a party here," she said and went to check of the ornaments she'd arranged to have set up in the dining hall.
The party had begun nearly an hour ago and invitation- bearing visitors dressed in their darkest colorful finery had descended en masse upon his formerly quiet new home. Midii had declared that the fete she was throwing for him would be a masquerade; so all of the guests (as per the stipulation) had worn their costume finery with a mask. Many of the attending gods and goddesses wore themed costumes based on their realms and specialties but there were also those who seemed to have chosen their finery for the evening based on its outlandish design as well. Ribbons and feathers, furs and streamers, glitters, beads, illusory extra appendages; anything and everything an imagination could conjure was out on the crystal floor with water patterns shining up through it eddying through he patterns of a waltz played by ghostly musicians.
Trowa, despite the fact that he ruled the realm, had not gotten out of it; Midii had picked his mask out personally and had sent a Shadowed One to ensure that he wore it. It was kind of her, really, but how precisely was the Lord of Death's Realm suited to a clown mask? Even if it was only half a mask, it was so… cheerful. It seemed at odds with his expressionless face and his usual costume of his shadowed cloak. As a concession to the festivities he had worn a cloak that was a little different from the one he usually wore; instead of a dark cloak of shifting shadows this one held starlight in its folds, tiny points of silvery white that peeked out here and there when he moved. The suit and breastplate he wore beneath his cloak was the night-armor that he had fought the Daemon Wars in so many centuries ago (it was the nicest thing he owned for all of the rest of his wardrobe were the clothes he habitually wore to work).
He stood off to one side, admiring the view for the place was really very different this evening. The grand hall which was serving as the grand ball room for the evening was a whirl of light and dark; the water-shadows dancing up through the bare wisp of mist Midii had left in place played against the velvets and silks and jewels of the guests creating an odd symphony of color. Guests chatted amiably with one another, greeting him cheerfully in passing (they didn't seem to expect more out of him than a nod of acknowledgement thank the powers). Gods and goddesses grazed at the long table in the dining hall to the left of the grand hall set with foods Midii had ordered from the mortal realm (eating food from deaths realm was tantamount to having to stay there) and in the long hall alcoved off on the right side of the grand hall Midii had set up a troupe of spirits that had been Players while they had been alive and were happily enacting various plays to entertain those not minded to eat, dance or mingle out in the gardens. The window-wall in the back of the great hall at the top of a small marble staircase led out into the gardens that Midii had made Trowa create flowers for. He was surprised; everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves!
"Trowa!" Quatre called over to him. He detached himself from a knot of adoring admirers and walked over to where Trowa stood observing the churning sea of dancers. The God of Love and Light was dressed this evening as one of his own mythical winged arrow-bearers; thankfully he wore a full robe instead of just the loincloth (much to the disappointment of his adoring fans Trowa was sure).
"Hello Quatre," he said when his friend had reached his side.
"I never thought I'd see the day that you would throw a fete here in this place; usually just getting you to attend one is like pulling teeth," Quatre said jovially.
"I thought that Midii might be lonely for company," Trowa replied. He was glad when Quatre didn't say any number of the things he could have said to that such as "yes, I can see how carrying her off and trapping her here might make her a little wary of yours," or "well, I'm sure those spirits in the River of Souls over there make marvelous companions for a girl." Instead, Quatre only said
"Speaking of Midii, where is she? She is going to attend right?"
Trowa wasn't paying attention however; his gaze and attention were riveted to a slim figure atop the stairs leading in from the gardens. Instead of her usual practical layers of stola, Midii wore a true gown to the party. The full skirt was divided in front into two panels; with the overskirt panel being gathered into opulent folds of plush black velvet that shone white in a trick of the light in that way that black velvet always did. The under panel looked like it was made of starlight; thousands of tiny multifaceted diamonds were sewn into the cloth to catch and play with the light as she moved, winking in and out of the folds of black velvet. The torso of the dress was a black satin corselet sewn with tiny beads of obsidian that winked subtly in the dancing patterns of water-shadows flitting through the air. Elbow length black gloves of satin edged in sparkling diamonds encased her hands which held a simple mask of black satin. Her golden hair was swept up on top of her head strung with strings of black diamonds and jewels. All of that alone would have been lovely enough, but somehow from the back of the dress sprouted two sheer black wings; structured like a faerie's wings but with water-patterns in small glittering diamonds.
She spotted him and Trowa watched, utterly mesmerized, as she drifted over to him. With a pang, he noted that Midii was frowning however. Part of him didn't care… she could frown all she liked if he could just watch her move about in her pretty dress. She reached his side, looked up into his face and said
"You're wearing a suit of armor to a fete?"
Trowa blinked. What was wrong with that? Midii sighed upon seeing his obviously clueless look and said
"It won't do. The cloak is fine, but the rest…"
Suddenly his armor started to writhe and blur around him, vaporizing into a thick black cloud. Too late he remembered that he had granted her power in his under-realm the equal of his own to affect whatever changes she wished… that included, apparently, even the clothes he had on. He braced himself for another appearance of the pink tights (why would such a mischievous woman waste an opportunity to embarrass him publicly?) but was pleasantly surprised when the mist coalesced into pressed velvet slacks, a waistcoat of black satin, a grey silk shirt shot through with threads of silver, and a matching cravat with seed-sized diamonds sewn into the cloth. The cloak settled about his body from silver epaulets on his shoulders.
Oh! He was now dressed to match her gown. How nice!
"You have impeccable taste," Quatre complimented her.
"Thank-you," she dimpled at him. Trowa surreptitiously took her arm in his. Midii glanced over at him, but to his delight, didn't pull her arm away! It didn't last long however…
"Midii!" called the strident tones of the Queen of the Gods, Lady of Romafeller, Protector of Women, and Goddess of Nature; Lady Une.
"Milady!" Midii rushed off to embrace her (former) mistress, and Trowa was treated to the sight of seeing her hasten in her beautiful dress again. He could watch her entrancing figure all night. On the downside of the viewing arena, he was also treated to the sight of Lady Une's formidable glare. Now there was something that could make death itself turn and run. Thankfully, before she could wander over to Trowa and begin tearing bloody strips off from him she was joined by her beloved Lord Trieze. Trieze put a gently restraining hand on Lady Une's arm and said softly
"Lady… don't forget that we are guests here and must act accordingly."
In an unheard-of event, it looked like Lady was truly considering ignoring the words of her beloved Trieze! She growled deep in her throat, and her glare intensified, but with a final narrowing of the eyes she backed off, taking her (former) handmaiden with her. Trowa watched while Lady Une examined Midii minutely, obviously looking for any signs of mistreatment on his part. She questioned her too but Midii could only assure Lady Une that she had been well cared for by him and his servants. She had no real grounds to reclaim her handmaiden (as Protector of Women) on charges of mistreatment and Trowa smirked just a little as she leveled another glare at him for thwarting her.
Trowa strolled over to Midii's side once more to face the unholy wrath of her former mistress with his usual stoic demeanor. Truth be told he was a little amused at Lady's growing frustration with the fact that she was essentially powerless because this was his realm and he held all of the cards. Yes, he had stolen Lady's handmaiden and now he was getting away with it right before her very eyes and there was nothing she could do about it! He wasn't a petty man, or one that found amusement in the discomfort of others, but he couldn't help feeling a little tickled by the situation. He couldn't resist twisting the knife a little by retaking Midii's arm in his own and meeting Lady's disapproving look with a blank implacable expression. Trieze shook his head a little; half in admiration of Trowa's bravery, half in amusement. He saw the humor in the situation too!
"My beloved Lady," Trieze said, deflecting her anger a little. "Let us have a dance."
The Lady, unable to resist a request from her precious beloved, allowed herself to be drawn off into the crowd swirling in unison. Trowa looked over at Midii hopefully, trying to gauge whether she might humor him with something he wanted. He decided she might go for it because the atmosphere of the party was so light.
"Will you dance with me?" he requested. She took a moment to seriously consider it. At last she said
"I suppose. It would be a waste of all of this effort not to have one dance."
Perhaps Trowa was simply being optimistic but it sounded to him like her answer didn't carry its usual caustic tone to it and the reluctance in her reply sounded only half-hearted. Before she could change her mind Trowa turned her to face him, placed his hand at her velvet-clad waist and drew her closer to him before whirling her out into the crowd in time to the music. In all of his centuries of servitude to his duties his heart had never felt as light as it did that night when he held her close and they swirled about in the patterns of the waltz. He carefully memorized her every look and feature for he knew that in the morning he would have to let her go for three interminable weeks; but for that time she was there in his arms and he felt bliss.
Midii woke a little groggily; she always had difficulty waking up when it was dark outside and that went double for when it was raining; Trowa's Underworld had that dim, directionless light that simulated daylight filtered through heavy black stormclouds. It made it difficult for Midii to wake up, and with her drifting purposeless existence in this place she liked to spend her mornings lazing about in bed. Not this morning however; this morning she was to leave this place for an entire month of freedom in her home! A whole month gone from this dark cheerless place (that she had arranged so that it was not-so-dark and not-so-cheerless). A whole month away from its master as well; no more hearing the sound of his soft footfall in the great hall and bolting for her quarters or any other place to hide… okay, to be completely honest with herself she didn't hide away from him as much as she had at first after he'd taken her away from her home, but still, she wouldn't have to spend evenings in his grim company as the only other living being in the realm!
Midii practically sprang out of bed in her eagerness to be off and on her way. She paused however, as she stood in front of her closet; should she pack? It was likely that she'd have her former clothing provided for her in Romafeller after all… but one didn't go on a journey and not pack. She'd just take the important things; a silver comb inlaid with black diamonds, a matching brush, her favorite hair-jewels… Maybe she should take one or two outfits just in case they had packed away her stola's. It would be inconsiderate just to show up with nothing after all. Midii ordered her attendant Shadowed One to take out the stola of black spidersilk with the diamond shoulder-clasps and the light black satin gown with the sash in silver-and-onyx patterns.
She debated with herself… and took the glowing silvery-white necklace that Trowa had given to her in gratitude for her efforts on his behalf. Really, she had become quite attached to it in the short time she'd had it, and so it wasn't because he'd made it just for her at all! That was her loophole and she was sticking to it! She dressed herself in one of her more practical silk stola's, twisted her hair up with a simple comb of obsidian for the journey, and slung the light silk bag for the trip across her back. Her footfalls tapped lightly down the wing leading out into the garden towards the Great Hall and front entrance as she hurried to wait for her ride to Romafeller in the front courtyard. Trowa was already there awaiting her, his steed stood solidly nearby, the chariot was once again attached to him. Odd, Trowa always rode the beast saddled when he went out on his errands; the only time he'd ever bothered with a chariot was when he had taken her to the mortal realm with him.
"I ordered the chariot prepared to take you to Romafeller," he said as she approached him.
"I thought that one of the gods from Romafeller would come to collect me," she said in confusion.
"None can enter my realm without my permission and although I sent an invitation Lady Une is currently not answering, or likely even opening, any mail from me," Trowa explained sheepishly. "Still, I am a god of my word and so here you are. Mortis will see you safely to your destination."
"Oh, thank you," she said, uncertain of what else to say. Trowa handed her up onto the platform of the chariot but retained her hand when she turned to go.
"If you should ever need me," he said. "For anything at all; call for me and I will come."
"Ah… that's nice of you to offer," she said a little awkwardly.
"You shouldn't make the trip without a cloak to keep you warm at least," he said in concern. "Some of the Divine Realms are quite cold." A shadowed cloak materialized in his left hand and he deftly swirled it about her, fastening the brooch and setting the hood and cowl in place.
Midii couldn't help smiling a little at that as she pressed her palm fondly to his cheek. He was acting a bit like a protective mother seeing her only child away for the first time but it was sweet of him to worry for her.
"I'll be alright," she couldn't help reassuring him. She was going to be gone from him for a whole month after all, and the journey from the Underworld to Romafeller crossed through all of the Divine Realms, even the not-so-savory ones. She could allow him a fond good-bye. It wasn't as if she was really feeling sad to part from him; she was just making sure he wouldn't decide to drop by Romafeller and ruin her vacation that was all. So there; it wasn't because his emerald eyes looked so morose to see her up in his chariot and leaving him.
"Mortis is trained for war," Trowa said, sounding more as though he was reassuring himself than he was cheering her. "He will protect you."
"I'll see you in three weeks Trowa," she said, signaling Mortis to start on the journey. She actually nearly said "take care while I am gone" but stopped herself in time. Goodbyes always seemed to do that to her. Yes, that was it.