Elsewhere
Marquis Zechs desperately needed a bath after sitting in that stinking cell for so long. Not to mention the three days of travel afterwards, to get as far away from that particular prison as possible. But alas, a bath would have to wait, as he had more pressing issues to take care of- namely, the matter of his original reason for being arrested.
Zechs reined in his stolen horse near the Dragon's Inn and swung himself down from the saddle, his feet squelching in the mud as he landed. He handed the reins over to the stable boy and headed towards the large, wood door. He pushed it open and stepped inside the dark inn.
For a moment, Zechs waited, while his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside. The few windows of the building were covered by heavy drapes, blocking out the sunlight. Instead, fires in the two fireplaces and several torches gave off dim light, just barely bright enough to see where one was walking without tripping over a table or rogue chair. Finally, Zechs could see well enough inside the dim inn, and he glanced around. His eyes settled on a man sitting at a table in the far corner. Zechs weaved through the scattered tables towards the man and dropped into a chair opposite.
"Howard," Zechs said, by way of greeting. The older, balding man smiled and leaned forward over the table. He wore a brightly colored tunic, garish by most standards, and had a similarly garish hat perched on his head.
"Marquis," Howard said with a brief bow of his head. "Glad to see you made it out of jail."
Zechs dropped his velvet purse on the table. "They took everything I had before they freed me," Zechs muttered. Howard grinned again and lifted his own purse to the table. He dropped it onto the wood surface. Inside, coins jingled against each other.
"Lucky for you, I have your share," Howard said, pushing the bag over the table to Zechs, who plucked it up and stowed it away inside his coat. The heavy bag tugged down on the fabric of his coat, but he felt infinitely more comfortable with the heavy weight against his chest.
"What's next?" Zechs asked, after hailing the barmaid for a goblet of mead. Howard set his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together.
"Do you want to hear the news, first?" he asked. Zechs shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose it has nothing to do with me," Zechs said. Howard shook his head.
"No, but it is interesting. Rumor out of the Peacecraft castle is that a man applied for the hand of Princess Relena," Howard said. Zechs lifted an eyebrow. The barmaid brought over the goblet of mead. Zechs wrapped his hand around the cup and brought it to his lips. The sparkling liquid danced over his tongue in a way that inn mead rarely accomplished.
"Just idle court gossip," he commented.
"It was a Barton. And the King rejected the offer," Howard said. Zechs shook his head. "I suppose the King thinks the Princess can do better than a Barton?"
"Perhaps," Zechs conceded. He didn't care much just who the King thought would be the best match for the Princess. None if it affected him.
"I bring this up because of the interesting coincidence," Howard said. This peaked Zechs' interest.
"Oh?"
"The next job has been sent 'round," Howard said. He leaned even closer over the table towards Zechs. "We'll be robbing the Barton house coffers."
"That's bold, and dangerous," Zechs said, but he smiled anyway. "I'm in." Howard clapped his hands together.
"I knew you would be. Now, go get yourself a room and ask them to bring you a bath. You stink to high heaven."
Zechs gave his friend a dark look, but nodded. He rose from the table and made his way to the innkeeper, who stood behind a long counter. He negotiated a private room and a bath, along with a large meal, and made his way upstairs to the second floor.
Sanc Kingdom
Trowa and Relena sat side by side in the rose garden, watching as the last of the day's light waned, the orange sun slipping beneath the pines in the distance. The Princess had dismissed the ladies of her court, insisting that she have private audience with her devoted knight, despite how it might have looked. Trowa was well aware of the whispers about them throughout the court - everyone knew. They all knew that his proposal had been denied before he'd even had a chance to propose.
Relena's hands were folded demurely in her lap, her blue eyes pained. With her long, blond hair freed of its usual braid, waves tumbled down her back in wild abandon. She looked like more of a woodland nymph than princess of one of the wealthiest courts on the continent. But Trowa knew that in the moment, Relena cared for none of these things. She was devastated, and so was he.
Trowa turned to look at Relena, and she lifted her eyes, gazing up at him morosely. She sighed, and her shoulders sagged. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and crushed her to his side. And then Relena caved in to her sorrow. Holding her face in her hands, she leaned into Trowa's shoulder and wept.
"It isn't fair," she sobbed. "It just isn't fair…"
"I know," Trowa murmured, rubbing Relena's back as soothingly as he could, fighting to keep his own tears at bay. He was more than merely sad at their misfortune; he was terrified.
"I'll never find another woman like you," he said softly. Relena lifted her head, raising tear-filled eyes to Trowa.
"Don't say that," she cried, reaching a hand up to scrub at her damp eyes.
"It's true." Trowa's lips turned down. "No one could ever understand me, as you do." He squeezed her shoulders, his words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I… I fear I may never be… myself." He lowered his gaze to the grass beneath them. "I don't know…" He swallowed, fighting for the courage to give voice to the fears that plagued him. "I don't know that I can bear it."
How could he ever find another? Someone to whom he could bare his soul? He and Relena had spent years sharing their innermost hopes and fears with one another. When Trowa had first arrived at the Sanc castle as a young squire, dreaming of knighthood, he never would have guessed the pampered young princess in the frilly pink gown would become his closest companion. And yet Relena had surprised him at every turn. She was not what people expected her to be, and he was one of the very few who knew that.
Trowa hated to think what their futures would be like apart. To think that mere days ago, it had all seemed so promising…
"Trowa…" He looked up at the touch of Relena's hand on his face, tipping his chin gently toward her. She leveled him with a firm gaze. "You must bear it," she whispered. Her other hand sought one of his, and gave it a squeeze. "We both must. This..." She sighed, her voice wavering. "This is not to be."
Trowa felt his jaw tighten, but he nodded. "I know."
"You mustn't do anything rash," Relena said, giving him a knowing look. "I still need you."
"I wouldn't dare," he vowed, unsure, truthfully, if he could keep that promise. "I will remain by your side, as long as I'm allowed." He squeezed her hand in return. "You will always be my Queen, no matter what."
She gave him a thin, but brave, smile. "Thank you, Trowa. You know my heart is yours, always."
Trowa finally smiled himself. "I highly doubt that, milady. One look at the Prince of Arabia, and I will be but a glimmer of a memory, I am sure. He is rumored to be quite handsome, you know." He let out a playful scoff. "Not to mention disgustingly rich…"
"I don't care about any of that," Relena said quickly. "My plans have been thrown into disarray now. I was to care for the kingdom in a way my father never could, to improve the lives of our subjects. It was my chance to show what a Queen could do…"
"You will still be Queen, eventually," Trowa interjected. "And of a much larger kingdom." Not that she would care for that, he knew, but he sought to cheer her up, if only a little.
"Yes, but under a King." Relena sighed. "Now, now I will have to submit, and to allow another man to control my every move."
Trowa huffed a laugh. "As if you'd let him." He couldn't picture Relena giving up her independence; not entirely.
"I do not think I will have a choice," Relena muttered darkly, her eyes narrowing. Despite her determined look, Trowa thought he detected fear in her expression.