A Quick Note On Chapter Numbering:

On 24 Sept 2022, I added the Foreword. This means that all the chapters were pushed up a number. So now Chapter 2 is labeled Chapter 3 in navigation. Please note that reviews made by that date refer to the actual chapter number. So reviews for this chapter made by 24 Sept would be labeled Chapter 2, but after 25 Sept they'll be Chapter 3. I'm sorry for the confusion.

Important A/N

You guys, this author isn't dead. I say that because as I've written this story, I realized that I severely under-edited this chapter, and it's rather pivotal to some things that happen later on. So forgive me for posting another re-edit of this after finishing chapter 8, but I had to. I hope you can forgive me. Also, I hope this is an improvement and more in-character for the Van and Hitomi in all the other chapters.

Standard disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne. This story was inspired by Suilsafir's Black and Gold one-shot, Home is Where the Heart Is.

The inspiration for this chapter comes courtesy Florence and the Machine. I love her.

I have a complete playlist for my fic on Spotify. Look up CovertEyes and/or One Night for the Heart if you're interested.

Chapter 2: Courage and Tears

Van stood in the long, empty hallway of the guest wing and debated whether or not to knock on his own door.

He knew it was the polite thing to do, but—in spite of, or, perhaps, because of the onslaught of emotion he'd experienced in the council room—he was in a neutral mood and this newly awakened part of his imagination pictured various scenarios involving a wife that could be rather amusing to walk in on. However, that wasn't the type of relationship he had with Hitomi—yet, he thought with a press of his lips—but it was a scenario that crossed his mind, as he guessed it would for any man who had been separated from a wife during war.

After leaving the council chamber, and being someone who needed to feel exertion to process his thoughts and emotions, Van had detoured up a nearby tower to the roof where he could breathe in the mid-autumn air without being disturbed. The last hour, he had been put through a wringer of emotion, and he had needed a moment outside to think through everything.

Now he stood at his door, his palms sweating as he clenched the pillow tightly and tapped it against his thigh. Inside his boots, his toes tapped an arrhythmia, his usual secret outlet for such a rush of nerves as this.

What, exactly, was he going to say to her?

They'd never expressed anything so deep as gratitude or affection. Most of their conversations had been pleasant enough, but their focus had been on Fanelia, their people, their goals. Was there even a potential for affection?

He had to suppose there was. After all, she'd kissed him—just on the cheek, but it counted—and told him to come back to her. Those weren't the actions of someone unwilling or unaffectionate, and might even be evidence that she felt more than she let on.

His next moments were critical. Since he was likely to surprise her when he stepped back into his room, her reaction when he reappeared would be telling.

Making his decision—time was short and he couldn't imagine examining his thoughts any more than he already had—he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped into his room after a quick warning knock.

Van halted when he noticed the young Duke Freid seated next to his bed–he had apparently interrupted them mid-conversation–but he quickly recovered and turned his eyes to gauge Hitomi's response.

It was encouraging.

Hitomi sat propped up against the pillows, having apparently just finished her lunch—which he was glad to see was more than just soup—and when she looked up to see who entered, her mouth dropped open and one hand snapped to her neck. Just before she ducked her head to hide a blooming blush, he thought he saw her lips form his name. And though she kept her face down, her eyes bounced back to him repeatedly.

Van's heart skipped and, to hide his own embarrassment, he turned for a brief moment to shut the door. When he faced her again, he squared his shoulders and stepped to the bed with his usual practiced confidence.

Chid rose as he approached. "Cousin, I'm glad you've come to look after Hitomi. I was just about to take leave of her and let her rest." Typical of the young sovereign, he said it all with a gracious smile, and even the king's scrutinizing gaze detected no hint of judgment against him after the debacle in the war room.

Grateful the Duke saw no need for further conversation, Van escorted him to the door. "Thank you for keeping my wife company," he said, still eyeing the young man. Nonetheless, Chid's cheerful expression didn't falter, and once he shut the door behind him, he pushed away more of his nervousness and exhaled. The duke's graciousness gave him hope that they hadn't discussed what had just occurred, and thus he could approach Hitomi with a modicum of dignity.

But once he stood before her at the foot of the bed, his mind blanked.

Tapping the pillow against his thigh again, he watched as Hitomi tidied the empty lunch tray on her lap. She laid out the utensils, folded the used napkin, re-covered the dirtied plate before finally glancing up at him.

"Oh good, you brought the pillow," she said shyly. "I'll take that please." She reached for it, not quite meeting his eyes, and he handed it over. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. After having clutched it rather pathetically for the last hour, his hands now felt cold and empty. A selfish part of him wondered why she needed it more than he did when she had all his pillows to lean upon, but he pushed that thought aside. Instead, he busied himself by stepping to her and picking up the tray she'd just tidied.

Turning with it, he blinked and saw the state of his room with fresh eyes. Heat crept up his neck and he swallowed down a rush of bile.

His room was a mess. He had to shove aside two nights' worth of dirty dishes to make room for her tray on the big table. But dinner trays from meals eaten alone weren't the only thing. The tea table, side table, desk, and the floor were also scattered with discarded notes, clothes both dirty and torn, smelly armor, and books from the Aston library. His room plainly said he didn't care about it.

Which he didn't, not when he was alone. There was something cozy to him about the evidence of living in a place. Having a messy room had been his one comfort as a king, where everything else in his life was dictated and immaculate. Here especially, he disliked the idea of staff he didn't know rifling through his things. He liked the Astons, but it went against his naturally suspicious nature to allow just anyone going through his things.

But now his wife was here, he felt a mounting wave of shame and embarrassment and recalled all too well his snub to her on their wedding night.

"I have something to show you, Van," Hitomi quietly said behind him.

Grateful for the distraction, he turned and saw her, arms lifted as she played with her hair. Fresh on his mind was that image of her naked, so his first thought was that she was trying to be provocative. However, she was making a face as she fumbled with her hair, which upon second glance was gray with dirt instead of its normal golden color. On top of that, her clothes were worn and dirty and her face wan. Admittedly, she looked very tired and probably had no idea or intention of stirring his ardor.

He pushed away that idea and stepped to the bed, hesitating only briefly before deciding to sit at her feet instead of in the chair Chid had vacated.

Hitomi's breath hitched as the bed settled, and she looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes. He swallowed again, forcing himself to act neutral, to keep himself from blinking and looking away as he was tempted to do, keeping his eyes trained on her in what he hoped was a confident gaze. Before long, she blinked rapidly and looked away with furrowed brows. Van noticed her blush and realized with some satisfaction that he'd flustered her.

Her fingers returned to fidgeting in her hair, and with a little nudging, she freed the band wrapped around her head and her travel-mussed hair fell across her shoulders in a grimy tangle. Van looked at it with a little sympathy. He'd been in war; he knew what it was like to be this disheveled. Seeing her like this didn't bother him, and he hoped she wasn't embarrassed by it. She ought not to be; he recognized with growing gratitude in his chest that she was in this condition for Fanelia's sake–and his.

"I made this myself," she said. Turning his attention to the unfolded band in her hands, he saw it housed a series of small pockets hiding a collection of tiny items along with a card of thread, needles, and a delicate pair of scissors.

His wife, a queen, was traveling with a sewing kit hidden in her hair.

Van almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but suppressed the urge with raised eyebrows instead.

Hitomi's hands fluttered and she laughed a little nervously. "It's always helpful to have a sewing kit," she said. "Something always needs to be mended, and I hate sitting with nothing…." Her voice faded away as she rubbed her face sleepily.

He sought for something to say before deciding to keep it simple. "I like it," he said raspily. Then, for good measure, he added after clearing his throat, "It's really clever."

Hitomi's face pinched as she bowed her head, whispering thickly, "Thank you, Van." She swiped her eyes and they came away wet.

He looked down at his own fidgeting hands and wished he could excuse her tears as exhaustion. But he knew better. Certainly it contributed to her emotions, but if there was one thing he'd realized in all the introspection he'd done over the last two months—and there wasn't just one thing—it was that he was aware of never having really said anything kind to her. He hadn't been unkind, not deliberately anyway–unless one counted the absence of kindness as unkindness–but he hadn't gone out of his way to show her any consideration.

A question flitted through his mind as he watched her wipe her eyes again: his rank as king aside (he'd never sensed a hunger for power in her), why in the world had she accepted his offer when he had personally shown no promise as a spouse or companion?

"Sorry for crying," she said. "I'm—anyway, I bet you're wondering what all this is." She pat the pillow. He watched with melancholy interest as she took her tiny scissors and deftly began opening a seam on the pillow with crisp, metallic snips.

This caught his attention, and he leaned closer to better see what she was doing. The activity obviously gave her something to focus on because by the time she looked up at him next, she'd recovered from her previous sentiment enough to flash him a small, proud smile. Her small action soothed his guilt a fraction, and he watched her face as she turned back to her work.

"Like I said, I bet you're wondering why I have this," she said, her voice growing in confidence. "I made this, too. It's a secret satchel. I'm surprised you didn't notice its unusual bulk when you were holding it," she said with a lilt of teasing in her voice. "But I guess that means it was convincing."

And with that, she opened the seam, exposing a hidden pocket. Digging inside, she pulled a small packet of papers and presented it to him. "These are maps I've sketched up of the destruction of Fanelia and the current defenses, a list of the surviving members of your cabinet, and a couple missives from General Balgus and Minister Arlott," she explained. "And a few other notes," she added dismissively.

As he listened, his eyes grew wider and his face slackened. He could hardly believe what he heard.

She continued, "Balgus helped me escape the initial attack and has been working underground defenses around the remaining capital. Arlott has been working to organize the survivors and is acting as regent while I'm away. After I discovered the information from Yukari and Amano, I told them I would deliver anything they needed into your hands."

Van dazedly took the proffered papers. She'd gathered all this information on her own? He couldn't think of anything to say; he was stuck staring dumbly at the unbroken seal on the top letter from General Balgus. The months he'd wondered whether she was alive, he'd never really contemplated what she was doing with herself if she were. Now he knew she'd been spending her time well.

His mind raced back, wondering what it was that convinced him to select her as his queen.

The simple answer was that he both sensed a marked lack of unease around her while sensing a love for Fanelia from her.

The long answer was that, during their one dance at his gala, she'd nervously skipped from one topic to the next, and he found that, contrary to when that usually happened, he'd been amused instead of annoyed.

Their dance had started as awkwardly as every pairing did. He knew who she was already, noticed a flicker of fear and apprehension cross her face, and began to lead her into the steps of the dance.

They didn't speak until she noticed an old, Fanelian tapestry that used to hang in his ballroom. It was a scene set in a forest glade featuring a dragon, a wolf, and a cat, one circling the other. Her comment had been about the white winged bird watching from the trees. She'd told him that once she was lost in the woods, a bird like that had flown into the branches above her, watched her like it was watching the others in the tapestry, and then proceeded to fly from one tree to the next until it led her back to the village.

She hadn't been forthright about the details of where the village or the forest was, but he had a feeling he knew where the story took place. It explained a lot, but before he could think on it anymore, she'd moved on to the next topic. As she skipped from one story to the next, Van gradually realized that he might be smiling and began steering her to the garden door before anyone noticed.

But they had. He heard whispers, one woman loudly saying, "How well they look together!" Van remembered his own apprehension as he looked to gauge Hitomi's reaction to the comment, but she had been distracted by something else and didn't notice. When she looked up at him, he'd had to look away, struck as he was by her vibrant green eyes. Thankfully, they'd made it to the garden doors, and he slipped out with her and could have a moment's rest before his next slated dance.

At the time, he told himself he was merely escaping the crowd and getting fresh air, but he found he didn't mind Miss Kanzaki on his arm as they walked around the winter garden. Her nervousness had subsided and she held herself with poise and dignity and didn't mar the peacefulness of the atmosphere with senseless conversation.

He'd complimented her on this—at least he'd meant to—but she'd looked at him with shock and asked if he made it a habit to insult his guests. Taken aback, he fumbled an apology, and she'd gazed at him with a look bordering on skeptical and amused before taking his arm again.

Still, when his advisors, as was their desperate habit after every social event, put her name on a list with those they considered a good match, he'd recognized that she was easily the most comfortable woman he'd ever been around and casually agreed on her. She—or her family—accepted, and he thought no more of it.

Until now.

Now a soft, warm swell of gratitude filled his chest. How very lucky he was that she had agreed to be his Queen.

He must've been staring dazed for a long while because his thoughts were interrupted by her hand on his arm. It was warm, small, a little rough from her travels. The hairs on his arm stood on end with her touch. Swallowing and gazing down at her fingers, noticing the press of each one against his skin, it was a moment before he comprehended her speaking.

"Van, please forgive me for humiliating you just now. I am sorry," she said.

Taken aback by her apology, he turned his eyes to her. How had she embarrassed him?

Her tired eyes examined his face intently, and Van straightened under her gaze. "I've always noticed soldiers hate looking at pregnant women," she continued through a strained smile, and it clicked in his head why she was apologizing. "Please understand I felt safer traveling that way, and it made it easier to transport intelligence without coming under suspicion," she finished.

His mouth parted in silent realization as an unrecognized weight lifted from his mind. Initially, he had been angry and embarrassed by her pregnant appearance, but that anger had all but dissipated in the council room. Now, as he nodded to himself, he knew that after feeling such a degree of gratitude for her, whatever embarrassment she'd caused was nothing worth apologizing for. It was a quick thing for him to realize that he'd already forgiven and forgotten whatever discomfort he'd momentarily experienced.

It hadn't occurred to him yet to ask why she would do such a thing, but her explanation was nonetheless gratifying. That she felt safer traveling through a war torn country, through the wilderness, made some degree of sense, even if he also recognized the danger of it. The anxiety that she could become a prisoner of war was one he'd carried the last two months, and he didn't like to think about it.

These thoughts ran through his head as he stared down at her fingers, his arm warm from the contact. Gradually returning to the present, Van blinked.

He liked her touch.

Just as that brief thought registered, she began to pull her hand away. Not wanting the connection to end, he snatched it from the air, capturing her fingers in his grasp. He heard her gasp, and, unable to think of anything else to do, Van pressed her scratched knuckles to his lips.

"Please," he said, keeping his eyes down, trying to find his words. "Don't apologize. I…." He cleared his throat. "You've done more than I can thank you for," he said, summoning his courage to meet her wide eyes.

"You're not angry?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"No," he said, shaking his head and squeezing her hand in his.

For the second time that day, the sun came out from behind the clouds, filling the room with light. Van looked into his wife's eyes, green like the gardens outside, and watched as tears sparkled down her dusty face. She blinked, her mouth pinching as she tried to hold back her sobs, and, realizing what was coming, he glanced around in panic for anything he might use to comfort her.

Though he'd had plenty of devotees attempt to sway his heart with their tears, Van had never been impressed by them until now. Here was a woman, his wife, who had worked tirelessly for the information she'd traveled so far to deliver. Whether she was crying from exhaustion or relief or residual pain from his neglect, it didn't matter. Had he been in this position before the war, he would have stalked away, but now he was determined to be different. In the very least, he recognized he owed her something.

She pulled her hand away to cover her face as her shoulders began to shake.

He made his decision.

With a deep, tense breath, Van scooted closer to her and cautiously, gingerly put his arm around her shoulders. She flinched before curling down into her bed, but, undeterred, he began rubbing slow circles across her back.

Admittedly, this was awkward. He didn't really know how to sit, and his hands were uncertain in their movements. Nevertheless, she gradually relaxed and her sobs ebbed away.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, or perhaps it was a yawn, he couldn't see. When she was still again, she said softly, "I think I need to sleep, Van."

"Okay." He hesitated, wanting to say more but not knowing what else to say. Only after she sniffed and rubbed her face did he lift his hand from her back. His palm was warm from the friction against her dress, and he stared at it, wondering what it might be like to touch her more. When she shifted a little to stretch out, he finally stood to give her space.

Pulling a blanket out from under her feet, he covered her and watched her profile as she closed her eyes.

What should he say in parting? Should he thank her again? Admittedly, he didn't want to leave, but she needed rest, and he had things to do, so it wasn't logical for him to hang around. But now he wondered what might happen if she were to stick around for a while. He didn't know how long she was planning to stay, but if he had to guess, she'd head back to Fanelia as soon as she could. He wanted to make certain she knew she didn't have to leave for his sake.

He bent over her and steeled himself to speak as he tucked the blanket over her shoulder. "Hitomi?" he said, her name husky on his lips.

She blinked her eyes open and turned, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yes?" she whispered.

Licking his lips to wet his parched mouth, he forced himself to say what he wanted. "Please stay," he said to her in a whispered croak. "Stay as long as you need to."

Her eyes popped open wider before squeezing shut again. She slid the blanket over her face. "Okay," she said through a long, tearful whine.

Van nodded to himself. He'd said it. That wasn't so bad. It had taken courage, but he'd done it, and now his lungs were free to breathe again.

Except now he'd made her cry. For the third time.

Sighing, he pulled the bed curtains closed with an acknowledgment that there are some things only time and sleep can fix.

At least he knew she would still be here when he finished with his tasks today.

At least he had been given a second chance with her.

He wasn't going to waste it.