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 3 is labeled Chapter 4 in navigation. Please note that reviews made by that date refer to the the actual chapter number. So reviews for this chapter made by 24 Sept would be labeled Chapter 3, but after 25 Sept they'll be Chapter 4. I'm sorry for the confusion.

A/N This chapter always needed more work. I'm pleased with it now.

Update. I've re-edited it again.

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 is Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey.

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 3: Bloom and Glow

Beams of consciousness began to crack through the delicious and dreamless heaviness of Hitomi's sleep. Distantly, familiar sounds of a servant moving around her further roused her mind. Growing up the daughter of a count, she had been used to the soft bustle of serving girls preparing her room, but lately exhaustion and necessity had made her used to just the opposite.

She shifted slowly, her body heavy, noticing with dull senses that this wasn't her simple bed in Yukari's home. This was a luxuriously soft bed, and its scent… she breathed in. An essence, vaguely familiar and masculine, filled her nostrils and alerted a part of her long asleep. Her skin prickled as an inexplicable wave of excitement rushed over her. Cracking open her gritty eyes, she saw the red glow of what she guessed to be the sun through the bed curtains.

Bed curtains?

Bolting upright, Hitomi blinked as she got her bearings. Head swimming, she sucked in a sharp breath before her mind cleared enough for her to recall that she'd been sleeping in Van's bed.

She'd just slept in her husband's bed.

Fisting the fine bed linens, she closed her eyes, trying to recall how this had come about.

The last thing she remembered was crying herself to sleep.

Fingertips flying to her shoulder, she recalled how Van had placed his heavy hand there and asked her to stay. It had been too much for her to take in then, but now she could almost feel the warm pressure of his hand again.

He'd come back.

And he'd asked her to stay.

Her belly stirred in a new way, and she had to take a deep breath to center herself.

Finally, she rubbed her eyes and pulled the curtains aside.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," came an unfamiliar female voice. Hitomi turned to see a pleasant serving girl not much older than herself, her hands busy with a dust rag. "I hope I didn't disturb you?"

"No, you didn't," Hitomi answered carefully, looking around impressed.

The servant had cleaned the entire room as she'd slept—and done it silently at that. Recalling how cluttered it had been before, that was no small feat. When Van had carried her in yesterday—no, earlier that day; the light now was the late evening sun angling through the windows—the state of his room here had reminded her of the only time she'd been in his chambers in Fanelia, before it burned. The thought of that experience usually made her want to roll her eyes, since her husband hadn't even bothered having his room tidied for his wedding night. This tidiness now, she guessed, had to be the doing of Millerna, who probably knew about its condition and had sent a servant in.

As if reading her thoughts, the girl said, "King Fanel instructed me to make the room and you comfortable for your night's stay."

"Oh!" Her breath hitched and her eyes grew wide before she could think of anything to say. Desperately, she wished to ask the maid to repeat what she'd said—because certainly her husband, Van Fanel, didn't care what his room looked like for her—but discretion and honor made her bite her tongue.

Rubbing her head and hoping movement would get her brain working again, she stood and walked around the room to examine it. There was a little tea table by a large window, a long couch in the center of the room, pushed away from the fire and backed by a larger table that had formerly been covered with trays and paperwork. Now the paperwork was stacked on the writing desk close to the bed, and the table stood empty. A bin of trash stood ready to remove by the hall door along with a bag of what she guessed was laundry. Even the floors looked swept and the fireplace was swept out and ready for a new fire.

Hitomi must have slept very soundly to not hear all this.

The young queen didn't know what to say. She gaped at the lovely condition of the room with unabashed awe. Grateful for habits formed in her upbringing that gave her grace in her astonishment, she asked the servant her name.

"I'm Rena, your majesty," she said with a curtsey.

"You really have done a beautiful job with the room."

The girl smiled in a way that Hitomi guessed meant she knew her worth. "Thank you, your majesty. Would you like tea while I run your bath?"

"Oh, yes, that—that sounds wonderful," Hitomi replied sincerely. She stepped to the washroom door and peeked in to see that it, too, had been scrubbed clean. The wash basin stood ready to be filled in the center of the room, the counters tidied, and the mirror washed.

Now the chambers were clean, the unfortunate grittiness about herself was all the more apparent, and her hair hadn't been brushed since she'd left Fanelia eleven days ago. The idea of a bath sounded like absolute heaven. "Do you happen to have tonics for my hair?" she asked Rena.

"Yes, your majesty, I have a tray full. King Fanel said to be prepared for it."

Hitomi's knees buckled, and had she not been running her hand along the table at that moment, she might have collapsed for the second time that day. As it was, she pressed her palms into the smooth wood and waited for strength to return to her legs. When it had, she used the sound of Rena pouring her tea near the window as her focus and stepped deliberately across the room.

Grateful, she sunk into the little chair and accepted the teacup.

This discomposure had to be because she hadn't eaten enough—that had to explain her moment of weakness.

Again she thought to ask Rena for clarification, but she knew she'd heard correctly. Hitomi's problem was that she didn't understand why Van was suddenly showing her such considerations. Her first instinct had been to attribute it to his innate snobbishness as king, but he didn't normally fuss over his room, so that must not be it. Perhaps, she thought, losing his home had made him more grateful for his surroundings? No again, likely for the same reason.

As she sipped her tea, she saw again her dirty fingernails, her scraped skin, the fine layer of dirt coating her entire being. A cold weight settled over her chest. Perhaps her husband had been so disgusted by her that he felt the need to give everything she'd come in contact with a good cleansing.

The idea made her feel physically sick, and she lifted her cup with eyes squeezed tight. Swallowing back threatening tears and a bitter swig of tea, she forced herself to really consider if such a reason were possible.

Yes, it had been days since she'd bathed. Yes she was an inelegant mess. Yes, she stank.

Yet, she couldn't help but recall that his behavior towards her—on his bed—had never once been anything but forthright and, almost, gallant (if such a thing were possible from her husband). Van had given no indication whatsoever that her travel-worn appearance had bothered him. As she thought of him now, she saw again the flash of his eyes and how she'd caught him gazing at her with something suspiciously akin to… admiration.

With another quick swallow—this time to settle her private embarrassment—she cast away that sickening feeling and sat back into her chair. The sound of water running drifted from the washroom. It was a sound Hitomi loved and sought out often, though now it made her skin itch with the anticipation of washing away the filth and sweat of her travels.

Without warning, the light in the room dimmed, and Hitomi turned to see that the sun had dropped behind a gloomy wall of roiling, gray clouds.

A storm was coming.

Something about the sight pricked her mind, but before she could ask herself what for, Rena stepped back into the room and began immediately stripping the bed of the linens Hitomi had dirtied. Seeing the maid in action reminded her of her previous line of thought and gave her an idea. If she asked a neutral question, she might get the information she desired without giving away how little she knew of her own husband.

"Rena, how often does my husband have you clean his room?"

The maid snorted so loudly Hitomi flinched and tea sloshed out of her cup. She scrambled for a tea towel as the girl answered. "My lady, as far as I know, nobody's allowed in here unless it's to bring food or something. King Fanel is quite the recluse," she added with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Hitomi eyed her sharply as she soaked up the dripping tea. She didn't like the idea of her husband being the butt of the servant's jokes, but she couldn't deny that the easiness in the maid's manner confirmed her honesty.

With a warm flush of astonishment, Hitomi realized that the only proper conclusion was that she herself might well be the impetus for such alteration in her husband the king's behavior.

Inexplicably, heat crept up Hitomi's neck, even though the sun dropping behind the clouds had chilled the room significantly. She tugged at her collar, her dress too tight, and took a little sip of her tepid tea with the hope it would cool her. It was hard to swallow.

In a rather pathetic attempt to calm herself, she tried instead to breathe in its cinnamon aroma, but to no avail. Its color reminded her again of her husband's eyes, this time how they shone in the sunlight as he had pressed her hand to his lips.

A phantom warmth spread where his hand had held hers, and she dropped her teacup with a clatter so as to rub the sensation away.

For the first time in their marriage, Hitomi allowed herself to admit that she rather liked the feel of Van's masculine hand around hers. Gazing into his beautiful eyes, too… that was something else she'd like to get used to.

Inhaling sharply, Hitomi realized that it had been that kiss on her hand had been the point at which she'd started crying. With a quiet groan, she channeled her humiliation by agitating her feet beneath her skirts.

Ought she to be embarrassed by having shown so much emotion before her stoic husband? Or should she rather feel elated that he'd spent minutes comforting her, rubbing her back as she calmed down? Her turbulent feelings at the time made it so that she couldn't bring herself to look at him again, so she had no way now to analyze what his reaction might have been.

Nevertheless, she knew she wasn't wrong to think that he'd tried comforting her. That had to have meant that he wasn't put off by her emotions.

She shivered as her hands and feet tingled. Her mind drifted to how it might feel to be held by him—really held—and how nice it might feel to touch him back. Perhaps he might return to her again tonight, and she might have a second chance to be held by him again—this time minus the crying, and perhaps without—.

Hitomi stopped her thoughts with a sharp laugh, only to see Rena jerk to attention at the corner of her eye. All too aware of her blunder, and to contain her warm blush, Hitomi cleared her throat before taking one last swig of her tepid tea. The maid was still gaping at her curiously.

"Well, Rena," she said, standing and smoothing her dress in a useless attempt to dignify herself. "I'm ready for my bath."