The Arabian Palace

Heero Yuy stood before the weapons rack, off to the side of the training area, selecting what he would need for his upcoming journey. He would want his katana, of course; it was his oldest, trustiest blade. Not that he believed in luck or any foolhardy superstitions, but if he were to ever carry something resembling a talisman, this would be it.

He reached for the well-worn leather hilt and ran his other hand along the smooth blade, his blue eyes gleaming in its reflection. Flashes of memories burned in his mind, some more brutal and harrowing than others. Indeed, years of battles had earned this sword its place among his traveling essentials.

Heero sheathed it back in its scabbard, then considered his other choices. He always felt better carrying his shuriken, and he knew he would also have to bear the scimitar, as a member of the King of Arabia's royal guard. But since he would be spending much of the journey on horseback, he needed to keep his pack light. And he wondered how it might look if he turned up in a foreign kingdom as decorated as he planned to be. His lips tugged into a sly smile.

He knew his preference of dress would be vetoed by the King, so Heero had already resigned himself to appearing in the uniform of the Arabian royal guard, much as he detested it. The silken tunic and ballooning pants hardly afforded his preferred level of disguise. For the duration of the journey, at least, he planned to wear his familiar leathers, and change into uniform only for his ride into the Sanc Kingdom. He grimaced at the thought. He was going to look ridiculous...

"Have you made up your mind yet?"

The dripping voice behind him wrestled him from his thoughts. Heero rolled his eyes and lifted a sabre from the rack, testing its weight in his hands, but didn't respond or turn around.

"Why bother with a sabre when your scimitar is far superior?" Wufei pressed, spurring Heero to throw a look over his shoulder.

"I need to lighten my load," Heero muttered.

Wufei nodded to where Heero had set his katana. "Leave that," he suggested. Heero shot him an exasperated look, to which Wufei rolled his eyes. "Never mind, then. It's not a monumental decision, you know."

"What's it to you?"

Wufei shrugged and made his way over to the rack, perusing the rows of weapons himself. "Nothing. I thought perhaps you might want to spar before you leave. Last time we trained, it was clear you could use the practice." In the evening light, Wufei's obsidian eyes glinted. He lifted his favorite wooden staff from the rack and spun it in the air with time-honed precision.

Heero scoffed. "I'll pass. I'd rather not leave Arabia covered in bruises, much as I know you'd enjoy it."

Wufei barked a laugh. "Fair enough. I'll spare you the backache. You're going to have a long ride, after all." The Chinese man replaced the staff carefully among others on the rack, as if it would snap in half if he didn't secure it just so. Then he turned back toward Heero.

"I don't envy you your task."

Heero quirked a brow. "Why is that?"

Wufei folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the nearest post. "Because. You have to escort some sniveling wench for weeks. Talk about a royal pain in the-"

Heero snorted. "I thought you called her an 'unparalleled beauty.'"

"So I did. So I have heard." Wufei rolled his shoulders. "And if that's true, one can only imagine how entitled she must be. And undoubtedly unhappy at the prospect of being dragged to a foreign land to marry some prince she's probably never heard of, let alone-" Wufei's mouth snapped closed as Heero peered at him. After a beat, Heero shook his head.

"You've thought about this far more than I have," he said pointedly. Wufei's face flushed.

"Yes, well. I know a bit about arranged marriage, after all." He turned his head to the side, breaking eye contact with Heero. "My wife, Meilan, was afraid of me at first." Heero said nothing as Wufei spoke, knowing from past discussions that it was best not to comment. "At first I couldn't understand why…" The Chinese man huffed a laugh, his eyes still focused on the training room floor. "In fact, I was downright insulted… why wouldn't she be thrilled to marry the heir of the Chang clan? It was a great honor any woman of our village should have been happy to receive, and I found her attitude disgraceful. I thought she was a brat," he added, raising his head slowly.

Heero frowned when Wufei fell silent. "And…?" he prodded, although he knew he shouldn't.

Wufei's shoulders dipped. "It wasn't until the night of our wedding that I realized… I, too, was afraid." His gaze softened briefly before his eyes tightened again. "But then I wasn't very sympathetic to her feelings. And when the time came to… Well. She was weeping. And I may have told her to stop acting like a child." Wufei laughed again, but it was a hollow, mirthless sound. "She was only a child, as was I."

Heero watched as Wufei unfolded his arms, letting them fall to his sides, before balling both of them into fists. Wufei's eyes darkened, and a muscle throbbed in his jaw.

"If I ever get my hands on the bastards who took her-"

"Wufei." Heero took a step forward, raising one hand, as if with that he could part the darkness that had rolled over the other man like a cloud. But as he moved closer, he could see that rage had overtaken the man's features. Wufei's eyes were tight and focused, his breathing heavy and labored, as if he were about to charge into battle, or already fighting one in his mind.

Heero took a chance and clapped a hand to one of Wufei's shoulders. The other man immediately stiffened at the contact. But after a moment the tension ebbed, and he straightened himself.

"Sorry," Wufei muttered, breaking away from Heero.

"Don't worry about it," Heero said.

"Perhaps it is for the best that I am remaining here, with the Crown Prince," Wufei added quietly, his eyes calmer but still haunted.

Heero nodded his agreement. "He needs someone to watch his back."

"And so the King decided to send his best-trained assassin to fetch the future Queen, and leave the disgraced Chinese nobleman and former scholar to guard his only heir." Wufei chuckled. "A wise choice, indeed."

"Yeah, well, you're not half-bad with a fighting stick," Heero said wryly.

Wufei's eyes snapped to his. "It's a staff," he said sharply. "And I could best you wielding it with a hand tied behind my back."

Heero scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

Wufei tipped his head at him. "Some other time. We can't have you horrifying the poor Peacecraft princess with the signs of your beating, after all. You must appear as the shining knight, and represent our kingdom well." His face spread into a grin. "Otherwise you'll send the girl running for the hills, screaming, and it will mean your head."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Heero glowered at the other man.

Wufei's grin widened. "I am merely trying to picture you galavanting about a European court, but am failing to conjure up an image… You may want to take up acting lessons before you go."

Heero's brows lifted. "As in theatre?"

A guffaw escaped from Wufei, and he clutched at his sides as his laughter grew more boisterous. Heero gaped at him. "I don't know why you find this so amusing."

Wufei only laughed harder. Heero gave up on continuing the discussion, but decided that Wufei was right about one thing - it was probably best that Heero was the one going to Sanc, along with a small band of the King's most trusted men. Heero had recently met Darlian, the ambassador from the Sanc Kingdom, and felt more at ease than when he'd first learned of the journey that lay before him. The man was genteel, if a bit bland, and Heero was satisfied that he and his companions would not be walking into any threat. All in all, he expected an uneventful trek, one that he was actually looking forward to - at least, the first half. For those first few weeks, it would be nothing but him and the rest of the contingent from Arabia, their horses and his own stallion, Wing. And the few men that were accompanying him were nearly as taciturn as he was.

Heero smiled to himself, already anticipating a quiet, blissful ride through open fields, the wind at his back.

Not much excited him these days, but he could hardly wait.

A/N: Yes, we are fully aware of the innuendo that abounds in this chapter... Yes, we went and wrote it anyway. Cheers!

- RGS