I don't have much to say up front tonight. Just my usual thanks to my usual readers and a welcome to anyone just starting. Also, thank you for the constant reviews. It's great to know you guys follow so closely. I see Macky's review almost always in the same day as I post the chapter. Thanks. :)

Enjoy, and as always, please review. More to say at the end.

-sor

Chapter 7

"He saw it all." The knight's tone gave no hint of distress or worry, but instead was heavy with disbelief. Hadn't they been careful? Hadn't they taken every precaution to keep things secret? No. They had gotten careless. Two years behind them with no direct proof of their affair and they had gotten careless.

It was a different sensation than he had anticipated. Certainly he'd imagined it time and time again, but he'd always imagined himself a bit afraid or overcome with worry. He'd imagined Millerna's face, pale and sick with guilt. He'd imagined so many outcomes, so many emotions, but now that all was said and done, the only thing he could see in his mind's eye was Dryden.

Allen Schezar was overcome with guilt.

He'd seen the look in Dryden's eyes and he knew it well. That forced indifference that came in the form of a smile. It was an expression Allen had imagined his own face had held on many occasions. He could remember fighting to control the rage in his youth, the first time he'd watched the woman he loved married to another man. Then there came the silent resignation that had accompanied Millerna's wedding. He had been always silent and respectful, never giving away the turmoil. That had been the look he'd seen in Dryden Fassa's eyes.

The cushioned armchair seemed almost to cradle Allen's sudden exhaustion as he sunk into its arms, slouching against the back as if he would have collapsed without its support. "She's pregnant, Gaddes."

That prompted the first sound Gaddes had been able to make since Allen had returned home in such a worried state. He'd listened to it all, offering that understanding shoulder that Allen often needed but refused to admit to needing. He'd nodded in all the appropriate places and offered sympathetic expressions when they seemed most important. But this… "She's…. what?"

When Allen only cast an unhappy look his way, Gaddes switched into survival mode. Over the years he had come to know the knight's moods very well and with that came the knowledge of how to handle him when he was especially moody. When he was most emotional, Allen liked to pretend he felt nothing at all and that included conversation. For Gaddes to show even the least bit of shock would only make things worse. So rather than do as he wished, namely take a moment to pick his jaw up from the floor, he skipped ahead to the more practical questions. "Does Dryden know?"

"No. I'm the only one." Allen paused a moment, before admitting with a rueful smile. "We're the only ones."

That, at least, was a relief. Gaddes let out a slow breath before moving forward in his questioning, wading in with all the caution in the world. Anyone watching might have suspected he was easing his way into shark infested waters. "Is she going to tell him?"

"What choice does she have?"

That wasn't a promising answer. In fact, it made Gaddes' stomach twist almost painfully. "But… even if he saw you… it still could be his, right?"

Allen's laughter was short, sharp and almost bitter. "It's mine, Gaddes. I'm the only man she's ever slept with." The statement hung heavily in the air and it seemed as if even Gaddes could think of no bright side to that statement.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, disturbed every now and again by the cheerful birdsong floating in through the open window, Gaddes finally worked up the courage to voice what he'd been trying to for so long. "She hasn't slept with her own husband?"

Allen remained silent, his expression a mask of nothingness. Then, ever so slowly a smile crept onto his features, an expression of both ultimate sadness and ever increasing respect. If anything, he respected Dryden. Not in the way a man respected the honor of his competition or the talent of an intelligent ruler, but in a way Allen had never thought possible. He respected Dryden as a man. An honorable man.

"He won't force her. He won't even ask her." Allen pressed his hand against his face, laughing bitterly against his palm. "He won't even ask her. He'll know right away it's mine." The chair no longer offered comfort. In fact, he felt suddenly trapped and was on his feet in an instant, pacing the room like a caged beast.

"How could I let this happen again! How!" His fist slammed into the small oak table that sat beside the chair causing the fragile piece of furniture to first totter, and then fall. Allen paid it no mind, though, stepping over it so that he could continue his pacing undisturbed. His mind was swamped. He couldn't think, couldn't focus. All he could see before him was this child, another child he could never call his own. Another baby he could never hold. A son who could look up to him as a knight but never as a father.

"I'm going out." His pacing turned back towards the door, a hand darting out to snatch up his sword as he went. He couldn't stand to be confined here any longer, so he fled, the door slamming behind him with a resounding thud.

xxxx

The remainder of the afternoon break had passed uneventfully, but all together too slowly. Dryden had immersed himself in his work, going over financial reports from various ships in his fleet, examining what they had to offer for aid to Zaibach. Usually he enjoyed working with goods and numbers. It recalled his more carefree days when all he had to worry about was getting goods from point A to point B. Politics hadn't mattered then. But in those days, he was younger. He'd enjoyed his youth for a few years too many, he suspected, and now the times were forcing him to compensate for too many years of easy living.

For once, at least, he was thankful for the work. Work could take his mind off the scene in the garden that had been burned into his memory. Or, at least, he thought it could.

Work or no work, he still saw it. He put on a cheerful face for supper, but he still saw it. He saw it every time Millerna looked at him, her eyes wide with emotion. He saw it every time he noticed Allen's absence. The man had been gone all afternoon, or so he'd been told. Off riding, if Gaddes was to be believed.

After supper, there was the mandatory socialization that came with being an Asturian. Talk over wine about matters that had nothing to do with anything. Pointless discussions about weather and swordsmanship and other frivolities. Utterly pointless.

When he was finally able to slip away, Dryden made a direct line for his rooms. Millerna had excused herself some time earlier, complaining of an upset stomach, though Dryden was positive it had only been a ruse to avoid him. Not that he could blame her. Things were awkward enough already without perpetuating them by pretending to socialize as a couple. Things were awkward enough that Dryden hesitated for some time outside his own door before knocking and pushing it open. The main room was empty and the door to the bedchamber was shut. She must have turned in early. Poor thing.

Though he hated to disturb her, Dryden slipped silently into the bed chamber in order to retrieve the spare blanket he used on the sofa every evening. The entire country would have laughed to learn that Dryden Fassa spent every night for the past year curled up awkwardly on a sofa rather than in the bedroom with his wife. However, he wouldn't have it any other way. He wouldn't force himself into her bed until she invited him, wife or no wife.

The curtains were drawn, though moonlight still found its way through the cracks, casting a few brilliant stripes of blue lace over the bed where she lay, her face still cast in shadow. He stood gazing upon her for a moment before turning away towards the chest at the foot of the bed where the blankets were stored. The lid creaked and he cursed the noise under his breath. Creaky hinges would not serve to be his undoing. As cautious as a thief, he took the blanket and lowered the lid ever so slowly, inch by inch, until finally it lay shut without a sound.

"Dryden?" Her voice was soft, floating out of the shadows as if on one of those moonbeams that lay across the sheets.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to wake you." He placed the blanket atop the trunk and moved around the side of the bed. One hand moved on its own, as if to come to rest against her cheek, or shoulder, but it stopped, hanging there in a kind of limbo. "Are you feeling better?"

Much to his surprise, the blankets shifted and one of her hands, so tiny and delicate, even more so in the dim light, reached forward to take his, pulling him closer so he would have to take seat on the side of the bed. The action was so foreign, it left Dryden numb. She had never drawn him towards her in such a manner. She had always been so aloof, so careful with her affections. She was always afraid of leading him on, of that much he was certain. So to have her draw him near now…

"Millerna?" Something was amiss. She was not herself.

Her form shifted beneath the blankets again, this time as she sat up, reaching toward his face to remove his glasses and gently set them aside. This was followed by her hand, still warm from the blankets, coming to rest against his cheek, directing his face towards her own. The gesture was awkward, as if she were feeling her way through the motions for the first time. "Will you lay with me tonight, Dryden?" In her voice was a faint tremor, barely noticeable, but unmistakeable, and when she leaned forward to kiss him, she hesitated. It was only the barest hint of a pause, but it was there, and Dryden, ever observant, saw it.

The former merchant drew back, standing and taking a few steps away from the bed lest he be tempted to join her again. It was an offer he had been waiting for, but to have it come under such circumstances was more than suspicious. "No."

She hadn't expected that answer and sat up quickly, hugging the blankets around herself for security. "No?" Her face was now visible in the moonlight, confused and almost angry. There was fear now in her tone, though she masked it as quickly as it had come, painting on an expression of hurt, causing Dryden even more hesitation.

"Why would you ask now?" It pained him to ask such a question, but he wouldn't allow her to invite him to bed out of simple guilt. He couldn't help but wonder had he never seen them in the gardens would she still make such an invitation? His instinct told him the answer was a resounding no.

She seemed to have no answer, bowing her head, delicate fists clenching around the sheets in frustration. When she did not speak, Dryden pressed on. "Is it because I saw you? Do you wish to make it up to me? You should know I would never… not for that reason. Only if you wish it with all your heart."

"But I do wish it! I do want you to, Dryden!" That desperate, fearful tone had returned. It was most certainly not the tone a woman would use to beg her husband to sleep with her. "It has nothing to do with the garden! I just want you to, Dryden. You have to!"

"I have to?" A dark brow arched, though it must have been difficult for her to see there in the shadows cast by the curtains. "Why should I have to?"

"I didn't mean you had to… I simply meant… I just want… Dryden, why can't you just sleep with me? You are my husband, aren't you!" The blankets had been pushed aside now and she was scrambling out of the bed so she might cling to his arm.

He shivered. Slowly fear had begun to form in a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, let alone cough out a reply. When it came, it was in a tone, harsh and cold and sharp as a knife, loud as a thunderclap. "Why!"

She was taken aback by his tone, and with good reason. He had never been anything but gentle with her. Had never raised his voice once, nor said anything to cause her pain. This sudden change in demeanor was too much for Millerna and in a rush of emotion and panic, she dropped to her knees, hands clutching his robes as she buried her face against them, soaking them with her tears. "Forgive me, Dryden. Please forgive me."

Guilt settled atop the fear in his gut and Dryden instantly regretted his harsh tone. So with all the gentleness he had ever given her, he bent to take her shoulders, guiding her to her feet so he could hold her against his chest. It seemed as if an eternity passed before her sobs slowly began to subside and she found her voice once more. At first she continued to beg his forgiveness, unable to force herself to speak clearly. But ever so slowly the soothing touch of his hand in her hair, the calm security of his arms around her calmed her sobs and eased her pain.

"I'm pregnant, Dryden. Allen and I…"

The proclamation alone was enough, but the mention of Allen… Allen and I…

Sensing the tension in her husband's limbs, Millerna pressed on, not giving him the opportunity to speak until she had said all that she needed. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew it would cause you pain. I thought it would be better if you thought the child was yours. I wanted you to think it was yours. I didn't want to hurt you."

"So that's it…" Dryden was surprised at his own clam. The more logical recesses of his mind told him it was probably shock. He would feel it later. But now, Millerna was of more importance.

He smiled. He pet her hair. He made soft, shushing sounds against her ear. He did all those husbandly things that men did to comfort their wives. He whispered words of reassurance, though they seemed all together hollow. "No one will know." Slowly he drew back, tilting her chin up so she could see his smile and be reassured by it. Then he bent slowly to kiss her forehead. "We have been sleeping together every night for the past year. The baby is mine and it could never be said otherwise. I will not allow such rumors about my wife."

He bent again, cradling her in his arms and carrying her the short distance towards the bed. There, he gently laid her atop the mattress and tucked the blankets carefully around her. One hand smoothed her hair, pet her cheek, lingered for a moment longer than it should have. "Don't worry, my love. Rest. Things will all be right in the morning."

And he left here like that, not giving her time to protest or stop him. He took up the blanket he'd left at the foot of the bed and fled the room with all the dignified haste he could manage. The door was closed behind him and he remained there, hovering for a moment, his hand resting against the cold wood. "No one will know. I swear it."

So, this was the first big plot twist. Hopefully nobody thought it was too lame or cliche. Of course, what's a fic without a little drama?

What'd you guys think?

-sor