The Isle

by puzzlepuzzle

In the aftermath of the Second War, Athrun Zala vanished without a trace for seven years - Cagalli never thought to find him. But fate deviates when he comes to find her himself and a web of desire and deceit lies before them. Original Cover Art SEQUEL OUT. .

14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

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A/N: Hello, dear readers!

I'm really sorry for the long delay, even though so many of you reviewed and helped me hit that personal target. I was hesitant about uploading this chapter, which attributes to its delay. Frankly, I was afraid that I'd be accused of being a bad writer and that readership would drop like crazy if I uploaded this chapter- but hey, here it is.

As D.L.S and so many other of you assured me, I will stick to what was meant to be a grittier, more adult story that I'd written and finished months ago. Call it smut if you must, but I have found that taking anything out of what is written and released will not do justice to the plot and the ending. The adult scenes (read the warning below) are absolutely necessary for this story.

Hence, there will be a chance of story rating from now on.

For those who are uncomfortable with (M) and cannot continue to support The Isle, I must thank you anyway for those great reviews and PMs.

Hence, please give me your support if possible- so many have done that in the past, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. Twilightsonnet even offered to be my beta, which is lovely. I really need the assurance that this story should be continued in the way I intended. So please, read and review if you can, I'd love the readership to continue for this story.

In the case that I feel I must take out the more adult scenes, I'd rather discontinue this story totally. I hope you understand.

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Warning: Adult scenes

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Chapter 13

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The lights in the large house seemed dimmed by the night. There was a single moth, grey, desolate, drawn to a light it thought was the moon.

When Lacus had left on the shuttle, Kira knew that she would cry only when it took off.

Her eyes had been red but mostly dry, and no tears fell. She had given him a small, brave but nevertheless, wan smile. She had been wearing a loose oatmeal-colored dress, since Lacus was beginning to become heavy with their child. The security guards around her were operating on a nearly paranoid level, for they did not want anyone to agitate her. Also, they were careful not to agitate her themselves.

It was difficult, Kira reflected, not having his wife with him. These few weeks had been awful, but with her, it had been so much more bearable. She was the one person who understood him even when he did not have to speak, and perhaps he had taken that for granted. Now, the world around him was waiting for statements to fall from his lips, and it unnerved a usually taciturn, slightly introverted man that his words carried a thousand times more weight than before.

Before him, the light illuminated the papers he had to read before the meeting tomorrow, and he felt an awful exhaustion creep into his mind and his body.

This was what Cagalli went through every day, he thought wryly. Who was he to complain?

He rubbed his eyes, biting back his yawns, and he forced his eyes back onto the papers. He worked through the remaining files steadily, taking care to read every single clause the clerks had drawn up, seeing if they matched his exact instructions. But then, she had the most capable people working for her in her air-tight parliament, and it was clear that her power extended even to the choice of people in the system she had re-created.

His twin was probably one of the most capable people he had ever known. She may not have realized this or recognized her own abilities, but she had long proven herself to be more than Uzumi Nara Atha's daughter. She was Cagalli Yula Atha- someone who was capable of writing her own history, someone who had written so much of Orb's. She was a law unto herself- and the people worshipped her for it.

The tiny moth was made prettier by the light- an artificial light, but a light that gave its grey a shimmer nonetheless. It pattered aimlessly in the air. Kira's eyes were drawn to it for a second, and he was hypnotized by its futile attempt to approach a light that was locked within the glass sphere.

Some sadness was mingled in the pride when he thought of Cagalli. She did so much and asked for so little. Yet, he had never told her that he had forgiven her such a long time ago, and that it was time for her to forgive herself.

He hadn't spoken to her much since her twenty-second birthday, although Lacus had long been urging him to. Now, it was possibly too late. But Kira had no time left for regrets- if he could do something for Cagalli right now, he would, no matter how painful it was for himself or for Lacus. Frankly, Kira wondered if war would quench the rage that was in him. Orb would be on his side, and like him, Orb wanted revenge for Cagalli Yula Atha. But Cagalli had done so much to protect Orb, and he couldn't go against her wishes.

Now, both he and Lacus were bearing the consequences of Cagalli's disappearance.

Being discharged from her post as Mediator had been something Lacus did not want, but Kira knew that it was best for her health's sake.

Of course, Kira was objective enough to know that she was certainly more useful in office than a nursing home, especially with how things were building up between the EA and Orb at this point. Plant needed to be on guard to play a peacemaker this time, and that called for all its diplomats and the mediator, the head diplomat, to be working harder than ever.

For if Orb and the EA went to war, Plant's investments in both superpowers was very substantial. With a war, all these would fail and millions of Coordinators would face the impacts of unemployment and possibly even an economy that would be hindered for the next decade. Plant's economy that was not quite fully recovered from the war could not afford that. But Plant was awaiting a child that the world would be delighted to welcome into the world, and Kira did not want her exposed to the trappings of expectations and a frantic, even bloodhound-like press. He simply did not want to risk putting Lacus in the spotlight at this moment.

Neither did the Supreme Council, for that matter. Chairman Kanaver had ordered that the Mediator of Plant take rest until her pregnancy was over. But Kira knew exactly why this had been ordered.

Like him, the Plant Council knew that Lacus Clyne was perfectly capable of handling a pregnancy and her work even until her third trimester. In fact, they needed her more than ever, what with the war looming on the horizon.

But the Plant Council no longer saw Lacus Clyne as the Mediator, since she was directly related to the Orb Princess. Any action Lacus Clyne took in the name of Plant would bear serious consequences on Orb's relationship with Plant, as well as the Earth Alliance's. The Council could not risk a situation whereby the Earth Alliance would accuse Lacus Clyne and by extension, Plant, of siding with Orb.

Neither could the council risk having Orb accusing the Plant Council of dealing with the Earth Alliance in such a way that overcompensated for Lacus Clyne's relationship with the Orb Princess. Either way, having Lacus Clyne as the head diplomat was too much of a risk.

Besides, Kira thought ruefully, the fact that he was here, as Orb's Proxy, was already a fortunate mistake that Plant's Supreme Council had made. He had been lucky to be discharged from his duty as a Zaft General with Kira being released after citing the reason that he wanted more time for family.

To think that the Supreme Council had actually gone along with his reasons for wanting to be discharged from duty! Both Kira and the Supreme Council knew that there had been more going on at that point.

The Supreme Council had released the Head General of defense technology and military research only because they thought he was unlikely to agree to be the Proxy for Orb. They had reckoned that Kira Yamato would not agree to the grim responsibility of heading Orb; at least, not when his wife was in Plant and pregnant with their first child. Not when his reputation and his job was at risk, not when there were threats that like the Orb Princess, he would be attacked and wiped off the face of the earth too.

But Kira Yamato had.

He sighed now, feeling lonelier than he had when he had stepped back into this house and realized that there was nobody waiting for him.

The Atha Estate was well-furnished with a coziness that had probably been Aaron Biliensky's achievement, Kira suspected. The person who was subordinate only to the Orb Princess herself was a very remarkable person. Yet, even Aaron Biliensky could not drive out the feeling that this vast estate housed a woman who did not really belong anywhere in it.

Kira looked at the grandfather clock in the drawing room, where Cagalli must have often sat to read or to work or even to address letters to people. It read four in the morning. Letting himself yawn now, he stood up, stretching and feeling how sore his arms were.

The clock chimed morosely, and he stacked the papers up, preparing for bed.

The lights seemed to illuminate everything in this room; the desk, the framed pictures, the settee, the handsome bookcase that housed her favourite books and most of her working files, even the potted plant that nobody had watered for quite some time.

The room haunted him.

The memories of his twin in here were too many for him to bear. How many times had he come in here and saw her wearing the green, kimono dress with its orange sash- what he had given her for her eighteenth birthday? How often had he seen her smiling and asking him to wait a bit while she finished her letter?

And how many times had she set down her things as soon as she could and flung herself into his arms, telling him that she had been thinking of him even when he had come here for himself to see her?

The last memory of her in this room, his last memory of her actually, had been a painful one.

Three years ago, he had visited her. The matter had been hushed up- she controlled enough of the press to ensure that the event had not been leaked to the media. What he had heard from Aaron Biliensky, however, had been enough to make him take the first shuttle he could to Orb.

But what Kira had heard had certainly not been enough to prepare him for what he saw when he entered her drawing room.

Three years ago, Cagalli had not been at her desk, writing or speaking on the phone as he had often seen her do, as he had imagined that she would be doing then.

But then, Kira thought sadly now, that had been a foolish hope.

His twin had been resting on the couch in a manner that suggested that she was either a very human looking doll, or a lifeless entity.

Her eyes had been hollowed, and he could only see one, for the other was wrapped behind a bandage. One arm resembled a bolster, her fingers and hand not visible because of the thick white bandages and the strap propping it up, her elbow limp in its sling. Her other hand was put in such a way that her palm faced upwards to the heavens as it rested on the couch, and her knees hung from the seat.

She wore a mint, shapeless hospital gown that had been unbuttoned to allow ease of changing the bandages. And with shock, he realized that there were cuts all over her neck and most probably, her chest. The hand he could actually see was not unscarred either- her wrist was heavily bandaged.

Her eyes had not met his even when he approached her and sank to his knees, looking at her face, calling her name in a strained voice that was hushed in his horror.

She could not greet her own twin- she was still going through speech therapy to regain what had been an ability to communicate to all ages, to persuade, to reinforce, to inspire.

But what had frightened him the most was the expression- the lack of humanity, the lack of warmth and life in her white face.

The girl sitting before him had not looked like his twin. This girl- this thing was not a human. It was abused, damaged, mutilated for someone's sick pleasure- and it was not his twin.

Aaron had told him exactly what she had gone through- what she had done to save him. She had pulled the trigger when she had realized that Aaron was not capable of doing it. She had killed because Aaron would have been killed, and he would have died for her. So she had taken a life for him and for herself.

It had angered Kira, and it had elicited a rage in him he had not been able to control. Not because she had betrayed ideals that both of them had shared and upheld for so long, but because there had been people who had forced her- someone like her!- to betray her trust in humans and her own beliefs.

Aaron had told him that not all the injuries that she carried were sustained from the assailants' actions. Most of them were self-sustained.

The memories were plaguing him still.

As he switched off the lights, the moth fluttered to the ground, spent from its efforts, conscious that it had been chasing a dream after all. Kira took a step nearer and saw that its wings were singed and that it was lifeless.

The morning was of a darkness that even the lamp he carried could not purge.

His feet guided him up the stairs, up the hallway, to the room, to a room that was probably meant for guests, only that it was hers. Her room was a guest room for its own owner- she slept fewer hours in this bed than the number she spent working in her office.

Kira had never wished for time to turn back. He had often wished that things would change, but he had never wished that he would regain lost time, not even in his darkest hours. But in this very hour, he got on his knees, praying to whoever who would listen, that time would reverse itself, that she would be safe.

He had to see her again. He had to tell her that he had never meant to blame her, that he had merely done as he had deemed best at that time. He had to tell her that he had not meant to use harsh words; that he had done so only for her to fight her way out of depression.

He had to tell her, Kira thought with his heart aching like a wound in him, that she had the right to forgive herself.

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That night, she came to him.

Athrun had not known that she would, nor did he realize the implications of her actions at first. It surprised him, on retrospect, many hours later, for he should have known it wouldn't be simple. Of course, he thought much later, it was logical to expect nothing more than an apology from her and a peace-offering, for Cagalli was not the sort who could be angry or have someone angry at her for a long time.

But he should have known, still, that it was more than that. The fact was that she came to him this time, offering something that he could not resist.

He had lain in his bed an hour after their confrontation, the pillows soaking the excess moistness from his furious, almost desperate exercise.

He hadn't bothered with a change of clothes- merely pulled on his pants after little more than a quick toweling-down upon finishing his swim. He had flung himself in here, his head throbbing.

And Athrun had thought that it was his fault that she had evaded him again. He'd pushed her too far- he'd pushed both of them too hard. In the process, he'd revealed more than what he could or wanted to, and even then, nothing made a difference.

Perhaps Cagalli was right- she was meant to exist for Orb and nothing, for nobody else. Not even if he was begging, not even if she might have had feelings for him, not even when he was risking everything he had for her.

Even with his cabin door locked, the moonlight was streaming clear into the area, an invader that bathed the room in a dim light. It fuelled his frustration and he felt feverish under the white light, and it seemed to him that he was being driven into lunacy.

He stretched his hand out, seeing it become almost glowing under the moonlight. Athrun knew that the light was not worth chasing after. But on the other hand, he wanted to hold it, to grasp it and to feel something solid in his palm and fingers.

When he heard a tentative knock on his door, he sat up disbelievingly. It was Cagalli. Of course it was Cagalli. Who else could it have been?

And that was why he stared at the door for a while, not moving. If he pretended to be asleep, perhaps he would wake to find that things had only been part of a long dream. Perhaps she would leave.

But she began to speak, and he knew he was fighting a lost battle.

"Athrun," Her voice was quiet and with a dignity he suddenly despised. Her dignity, that cold, cultured façade had been lost when he had spoken to her tonight. But Cagalli had put it back on, like a mask, evading him.

"I know you're still awake. I know you won't want to hear this, not after how I've treated you for all these years. But I must say it still."

There was a pause and she began. Her voice was steady although he sensed there was dread and pain in it. "Orb's waiting for me to return. It's not a matter of choice, even if I wanted to stay. It's true that I have so many things I have yet to learn about how I even ended up here. I am curious- of course I'd be. I want to know why I was brought here for, what your plans are and who's giving you orders."

He listened to her pause and then continue. "But nothing matters more than returning now. If I stay on for six months as you order me to, there's no telling what would happen to Orb and Scandinavia- or for that matter, myself."

It was humiliating, Cagalli reflected, to have him bring out all her insecurities one by one, to watch what she had established be negated by how she had established those very things.

But the fact that he had forced her to address all these didn't change the truth that she was afraid of facing herself every day.

And she knew what she had to do-if she had already traded her ideals for Orb's sake, then at least, she would keep Orb safe.

Orb was the only thing she had left, and so it was the only thing that mattered.

And that was why she had to keep Orb from sinking at all costs- all to keep herself from sinking. That was why she had to leave The Isle, the yacht they were on now- and return to Orb, to stop it from sinking and to stop herself from being destroyed along with Orb by a person she was so powerless against.

There was no telling, Cagalli decided, how long she would be stuck in the manor without a route she could use to escape. But there was something she could use- Athrun himself.

The guilt tore at her but she steeled herself. An hour had been enough for her to come to a decision, and it was culminating before his locked door.

There was only once chance to make him play her game now.

"Please open the door." She said hesitantly. "I need to speak to you, face to face."

His voice was steady from behind the door. "Not until you promise me that you won't run from me and yourself this time."

She breathed in deeply. No- she had a better solution to their problem. It was a solution that would allow her not to run but to face him every day.

And yet, she wasn't sure that she could promise him that she would open herself to both of them, which was clearly what he was asking of her.

"I don't think I can promise that, Athrun." Cagalli said quietly. "It would be far too dangerous to let you any closer. For both our sakes, you know this is the rational thing to do. But I do need to speak to you still. If you hear what I have to offer, perhaps you'll understand. So please, open the door."

Athrun felt his hands trembling. How it stung, to have her still think of him as a mere captor who was intent on extracting things from her, how she was thwarting his feelings for her now by saying this!

"I don't want to let you know me. I don't even want to know myself after all that I've done. "Cagalli said softly. "Here, on The Isle, I have to. You make me face myself. I did tonight, didn't I? You made me do it. But I can't do this on a daily basis the way I'd do if I were near you everyday."

Her breaths were becoming shaky, and she swallowed to keep her voice from vanishing completely.

"If I questioned myself everyday, I wouldn't be able to go back to Orb and face everyone again. I would never be able to act as the Orb Princess they look up to anymore. I'd be too aware of the lives I harmed while trying to protect others. And you remind me of that, Athrun. I never dared to admit it to you or myself. But you're a living reminder of what I sacrificed for Orb."

The door was flung open, and Athrun stood there, his face white with anger and distress.

He was bathed in moonlight and she saw that his eyes were almost black in the strange, foreign light. Those glinted, and she knew that they were wet.

His voice was low and raw.

"Didn't you realize it?" Athrun said hoarsely, "That I knew all you'd done even before I brought you back here to The Isle?"

She had suspected it, of course she had.

Subconciously, she had sensed that he was studying her, judging her even when she had awoken to find herself in bandages and seen him sitting by her side, as if they were in a normal hospital and he was simply visiting her.

Every step he had taken, Cagalli realized now, had been calculated. When he had asked her to kiss him, he had been testing her, to see if she had numbed herself completely to the past.

Before that, he must have realized that she had gone through some kind of trauma that had been so efficiently hushed up that nobody really knew anything about it. After all, he had witnessed the way she had reacted extremely and adversely to seeing him kill a man. Had he allowed the man in to elicit a response from her, so that her bluff would be called?

During the encounter at Rochestor's party, hadn't he led her on and then rejected her right before she could erase everything she didn't want to remember about herself with the haze of heat and pleasure? Had he been leading her on merely to confirm that she was running from both him and herself?

"I didn't think about it enough." Cagalli admitted. "I didn't want to face the possibility that you knew all the things that I wanted to forget so badly."

Athrun looked at her, his eyes stormy. She somehow found the strength to continue even when he watched her with those terrible, knowing eyes of his.

"I suspected that you knew about these seven years even before you'd taken me to The Isle." She admitted. "I would have been a fool not to suspect that you didn't know about my past. My being brought here was well-planned, very well-planned, in fact. So it was likely that someone as meticulous as you would have probed into the past to make your present plans function efficiently."

She looked at him wistfully. "Maybe that's why I was always so hesitant and so mistrustful of you. I didn't even dare to admit it to myself- that I was hiding something and that I wanted to continue hiding it even if you might have already known about it. So I wanted to distance myself from you. It wasn't simply the fact that you'd changed and that you were my captor. Frankly, Athrun-," She dropped her gaze until he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him, "I'd become very attracted to the aspects of you that I'd never seen before. I always thought I understood you in the past. But even now, I don't know."

"So if you were learning to accept that I'd changed, or possibly, always carried these traits within me," Athrun said slowly, letting his fingertips move from her chin to rest on her shoulder, "Why did you distance yourself from me?"

"It was the fact that you could confront me with the past at any time that I was here on The Isle, the way you did tonight." Cagalli said quietly.

"Then I was right." He said dully. "I was right all this time. But didn't it occur to you that I never wanted to bring the past against you?"

She was startled, and Athrun must have seen it. He began to speak, and his voice poured into the air, shaking at first and then growing steady as he told her the truth.

"I thought if you could face your sins and accept it, you would begin to accept yourself once more. Yet, I knew pushing you to it was cruel. So I never did, although there were so many questions I wanted answers to."

"Tonight, I chose to bring up the things you wanted to forget, because it seemed like the only way to make you stay with me. And that was the real reason why I chose to confront you in a manner I never planned for or wanted."

His face was pale, and his hand on her shoulder grew stronger in grip. "I want you to stay. This isn't about the people whose orders I follow anymore. This isn't even about the secrets I've kept for seven years. I want to be selfish, more selfish than I've ever been in my life. I deserve the chance to fight for what I want, even if I have to resort to ways I never imagined."

She looked at his arms, those bare limbs that ran from his shoulder down as beautiful slabs of white marble would be attached. There were scars she could not see- scars she'd put there.

She had made him in so many ways that she had never seen before- perhaps even more than his father had, despite what she'd always seen and thought.

She took a tentative step forward, feeling the chill travel over her hands and down the length of her spine. He watched, still and grave as she placed her palms on his shoulders and traced the wounds that had healed over but still existed.

The bullet wound in his arm, she saw, had probably been a deep one. He'd told her once that his father had ordered him to be detained; shot even, if he'd tried to escape. Of course, Patrick Zala had ended up shooting Athrun himself, just to keep him from defecting.

In the past, Cagalli had been sure that the scar was proof of Patrick Zala's blind ambition and his conviction that his only child was better off dead than alive with beliefs that deviated from his own.

But the scar was deeper than that. Cagalli had put it there as well- she'd asked him to think about what he'd always believed in, she'd asked him to question the fundamentals of why he was staying on in a war that he had lost faith in.

When he'd left the Plants as a defector, as a war-criminal, as a disowned son; his arm had been bleeding and his mind still in numb shock over the way his father had looked at him and shot him.

But Athrun Zala had done it while thinking of what she'd said.

He had told her that she might have changed but his feelings hadn't.

Hearing that had made her wonder if he was the fool or she for having felt her heart beat against her throat. Hope was something she could not afford. And so, no matter how tempting it was to let him guide them both this time, the only kind of possible redemption for her mistakes in the past was to live and die for Orb.

And that was why she had to pull him to her and use him now, even though all she wanted was to have him take her into his arms and let herself love him.

She traced the scars and then stopped abruptly, pressing a finger to his lips, touching his mouth now.

"Athrun," She said softly. "Let's turn back. Bring me back to The Isle with you."

He looked at her, running his hand on her shoulder down to her elbow, shifting her hand away but transferring it into his own. "What?"

"Bring me back to that room in your stronghold," Cagalli said softly. Her hand was cold in his warm one. "Do whatever you need with me- extract whatever information you need to have from me. If you want wealth, I have plenty of it. I can give you anything. And then let me go back to Orb. I'll give you anything in exchange for letting me go."

"That's impossible." Athrun said stonily. "Because you can't give yourself to me if I have to let you go in exchange."

She drew in a deep breath. "It can be done. It already has been done. You've left a scar on me the way I've shaped you."

His eyes traveled to her collarbone, where it was covered by her blouse but he knew that a thin, almost indiscernible scar lay under it.

"Don't you see, Athrun?" She said wearily. "You already have me. I'll never be able to forget about you, I'll never rid my conscience or my consciousness of yo. Not this scar either-," She laid a hand on her collarbone and they both knew that the scar ran deeper than it seemed.

"You needn't be afraid that I'll lose the memories of you." Cagalli told him pleadingly. "Seven years proved that it was unlikely, and seeing you again proves that it's impossible."

He stared at her, unable to speak because his throat was constricted as if someone had an iron grip around it.

"Isn't it enough?" Cagalli said brokenly. "Isn't it enough that you've managed to leave a mark on me and that I will never be free from you because of it? Isn't it time that you accept our fates and let me go?"

"No." His voice was calm, but there was something in it that cried out, a masked mention that gripped her and made her look directly at him. "It isn't enough until you give yourself to me- willingly, completely. Call it a conquest, call it anything. I don't want anything from you, Cagalli. How many times must I say this? I don't want anything from you- I want you. But what more do you want of me? What more must I give for me to have you?"

Cagalli looked at him directly. She had been waiting for this moment. "Information. Tell me about the on goings that have happened outside The Isle, those pertaining directly to Orb and the Earth Alliance. Tell me what Orb is doing, what Scandinavia's doing, what their affairs are like at this point. I want to know."

He let go of her hand, stumbling back into his room. She followed after him, watching as he sat heavily on his bed.

When he spoke, there was frustration in his voice. "I can't. If I do, you'd want to go back even more. You wouldn't be able to sit still and stay on The Isle for the next three months. You'd become even more determined to escape."

"I won't." She assured him, lying even though she knew he was unlikely to believe her. "I just need to know- just to reassure myself that I'm in the know."

"But I don't have the power to give you that information even if I wanted to." Athrun said somberly. "That information must be withheld from you at all costs- those were my instructions."

"But this isn't about the people who're giving you instructions anymore." Cagalli reminded him, a challenge in her voice.

Her eyes looked at him deliberately, and he saw both hollowness and steel in them that existed, a dialectic that had driven her forward for seven years and would possibly continue to do so until she breathed her last.

"You said that yourself." She said firmly. "If you want something from me, this is your time to take it. As long as you give me that information, I'll give you what you want in exchange for it. I can't go back to Orb with just that information, so you have little to lose with this."

He remained silent for a long time. She merely stood, watching him. The room was half dark and half light with the moon's casting of itself over them, and he was sure now, that both of them were mad. It was the moon- this lunacy, this complete giving in to their motivations and the trading in of their sanity.

For Cagalli took a step forward, and then another, and suddenly, she was crouching above him, for she had pushed him to lie on his back. He was stunned, unable to speak while she bent slowly, her golden hair brushing lightly hoer his face as she kissed him slowly.

It was a soft, lingering kiss, a strangely reckless one that had hints of suggestion in it as she parted his lips with her mouth and explored tenderly. He remained numb, unfeeling to her, and eventually, she moved away, staring at him with some uncertainty.

"What in the blazes do you want of me?" He said helplessly, not bothering to conceal his emotions at that point.

He could barely think straight. He suddenly realized how well she fit into his arms, like a piece that had been removed and returned to him.

His mind was returning to the night when he could have taken her so easily, so quickly, before he would have realized that they were both making a mistake-

She was resting her head against his shoulder. And Cagalli's eyes were bright and mischievous. Her mouth- it was plump and sweet, mewling if he kissed her and took too much air at one time.

It was a strange smile that he had never quite seen before or thought she was capable of administering. A strange, sultry smile that made him wonder if he had underestimated her and overestimated himself.

"Athrun," She whispered. He wondered if the gulp he had heard was part of his imagination or a sound that his own mouth had produced.

Cagalli's fingers trailed spider lines down his lips, and her voice seemed to melt into the air in the very moment that she let her words flow from her soft lips. "Will a kiss be enough for information?" She trailed off hesitantly, suddenly losing her nerve.

"Cagalli-you-," His voice was hushed with desire and anger. Immediately, she faltered- she had not expected to anger him although surely, it was justified.

"I thought," She said hesitantly, sitting up now, "I thought it would be enough. The other time, when you agreed to give me information about the manor and The Isle, you asked for a kiss."

"Do you think that it will be enough now?" Athrun asked soberly. "It won't be. I won't accept this game you want to play. I can't give you information that I myself have no liberty to dispense."

She was too dangerous. He knew how his heart had beat, how it had thrashed against his throat when she had kissed him and asked him to trade information. She wanted to do that again. What more? She would be asking for his life next in exchange for a kiss, and he would be tempted to give it.

Even now, he was tempted to die for her, if she would only put her arms around him and tell him that she loved him. This was not something he could risk.

So Athrun stood up, pushing her away. "Tomorrow, we'll be back at The Isle. I recommend that you make the necessary mental preparation- I will be a far less tolerant of your attempts to escape this time. The twins and Epstein will watch your every move, even when you are asleep."

She stared at his back in frustration. "Athrun-,"

"No." He said softly, cutting her off. "There's nothing more to be said."

---

Sheba turned sharply into a corridor, saluting as the Head of the Swedish Royal Guards looked at her with a bored expression on his face. Sheba looked at him fearlessly, nodding as he asked if she had recovered sufficiently. In his mind, the Head thought that Ola Gudmund, the chief bodyguard of the Crown Princess, had been in a shooting incident.

This was actually true, although it had been orchestrated by Ola herself.

Three bullets in the leg was nothing when Sheba wore a bulletproof suit even to sleep. But when she had been shot the other time, she had made sure that nobody except three other guards knew that there was actually no intruder in the Swedish Crown Princess' quarters. These three other guards knew that the Princess' chief bodyguard had not really been injured, and they all knew that she had ordered one of them to fire a few bullets at her leg.

That was the way the Eyes functioned- as a team, with perfectly-coordinated networks and seamless actions down a line of people who operated on a single order from the top. There was a strict hierarchy that Plant had incorporated into its politics, despite the claims that the Coordinator society was made of equal Coordinators. And the Eyes were a league unto themselves- they were the Intelligencers that even most of Plant's parliament was not aware of.

Sheba took a glance at the tags she wore over her crisp white shirt, her black blazer framing her height as she walked briskly down the hallway, saluting at whoever she needed to. Her picture had been taken as Ola Gudmund, and she had been assigned an identification number- although the woman in the picture looked nothing like her when she peeled away the last layers of disguise.

As she turned into yet another hallway, a man with nondescript brown hair and rather ordinary features passed her and she saluted, as he did. In this palace, Niklolai Lio, her third aide, did not know her personally.

Sheba ignored him for most part while she was working. Zechariah Houfer and Hideki Clarriker as well. As she passed the final hallway into the innermost of the Crown Princess' chambers, she noted that there was no bustling and little signs of any activity. Perhaps her mistress was still sleeping- it was after all, seven in the morning and the maids had been instructed to let her sleep until late morning for her health's sake.

Frowning, she strode forward to the retina scan, letting it register the contact she had slid onto her pupil. As the bodyguard Ola, Sheba had established a solid relationship of trust and mutual respect with the Crown Princess. That woman was frail in body but certainly not in mind or spirit, and Sheba wondered if the loss of her husband had shattered or made the Crown Princess even more determined.

Now, the computer made a sound of acknowledgement and the doors slid open.

She faced a large living room, richly furnished with beautiful drapes and open windows that let the fresh air in. There were no maids pattering out to announce her entrance today- and Sheba sensed that there was something wrong.

She began to sprint into the rooms beyond the living room- and she knew then, that the dead silence meant more than quarters that had been kept silence for the Princess to rest.

And when she entered the innermost chambers the Princess lived in, Sheba found that she could not breathe.

Things were strewn everywhere, with books on all the tiles, flower petals and porcelain crushed on the floor, a white shoe left behind, a shoe that Freja Magdalena had been wearing.

The Crown Princess was nowhere in sight.

---

Three days later, Cagalli was lying in bed, locked in a room she had been brought back to. Athrun had had her blindfolded when they arrived back at The Isle, and she had strained her ears, guided by his hands, trying to hear something beyond the gulls and the sea and the waves crashing upon the shore.

With him leading her, she had walked down step after step, leaving those sounds behind until suddenly, she knew that she was in the manor again. And even then, he had not taken off the blindfold but had made her walk forward, her shoes against a carpet and not sand now, and then she had heard a door unlocking, felt his hands pushing her in, and heard the door locking once more.

Now, she watched mutely as Cartesia made tea and poured it carefully into a dainty cup. She felt drained, as if someone had taken her apart and re-stitched her, and she found no energy to get up.

And so, she remained in that awkward position, half-lying, half-sitting up. It gave her the overall appearance of a broken doll that had been flung into a corner and forgotten.

The girl was pattering around, communicating with her sister with only her eyes, and Cagalli knew there was a code that she could not decipher. It was difficult to understand the maids' intentions, let alone those that their master had instructed them to act upon.

Cagalli tried to understand still.

"Cartesia." Cagalli said softly. "Sit down and talk to me."

"No, my lady," The girl answered fearfully. "I am not to do that. The master has instructed for me to keep away from you. Since he arrived home and received the news Epstein showed him, he-,"

She was silenced by Laplacia, who capped a hand over her sister's mouth.

And Cartesia, who had been so willing to sit and speak and tell Cagalli of so many things, seemed another stranger now. Her sister glanced at Cagalli hesitantly too, and Cagalli felt more alone than ever in the room she had been locked back in.

"Why?" She demanded. "Why are you doing this?"

"Your Grace," Laplacia said tearfully, "It is the instruction from our master."

Cagalli felt herself turning pale. "Does he trust me so little?"

An unlocking of the door made her sit up forcefully- she yanked the blanket off in the process and made as if to run towards the door, despite it being a good distance away that even a sprint would not suffice.

"What have you done to gain his trust?" Epstein said calmly, looking at her.

He stood, his back pressed against the door momentarily before he began to approach her. There was something different about him- something younger, something more haunted, and she wondered if it was her imagination.

Today, Epstein looked drawn and white, thinner than when she had last seen him. Had he been overworked while his master had taken her away? She looked at the dark circles under his eyes and how weary he seemed to be, like a child that had stared for hours at a window, waiting for something.

"Why are you here?" She managed, sinking back into the bed, weak with the effort and the rush of hope that had pounded into her veins and made her react on instincts alone. Her head was beginning to throb.

"To keep watch." Epstein answered directly, nodding and signaling to Cartesia that she could take her leave. "It is my hour now."

Cagalli bit back her anger and turned away. It was wrong to take her anger out on Epstein. He was only following orders and she did not want to antagonize her situation or their friendship.

Yet, there was a frustration that could take control of her if she wasn't careful. So she averted her eyes from his face and sat stiffly upon her bed. The twins were making preparations to leave, but their eyes were darting from Cagalli to Epstein.

Now, Cagalli realized that Athrun had his subordinates spy on each other even while working for him. Epstein was his spy, but Athrun had people spy on his spy too. He was not one who trusted- not when he had been so betrayed in the past.

She said brusquely to Epstein, "You can leave with them."

He seemed to understand her feelings and came towards her. His steps were hesitant though, as if she would spring upon him like a wild cat and claw him to pieces.

"I won't do anything, you know." She said bitterly. "He won't let me. Nor can I find enough resource or energy to plot and escape."

Esptein did not seem to be put off by her sour mood, but sat next to her, placing an arm over her securely. "Cagalli, don't blame him."

She looked at him mistrustfully, and he seemed to be hurt. He said slowly, "I'm not trying to defend him- I'm only trying to show concern for you."

She found his fingers brushing her fringe out of her eyes and his cool fingertips trailing across her forehead. At least she had not lost his friendship. He guided her head to his shoulder, letting her rest it there.

And Epstein said softly, "Trust him so that he can trust you."

"How am I to?" She said wanly. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"As we speak," Epstein whispered, lowering his voice as Laplacia made preparations to follow her twin out of the door, "He is pacing in his study. He has been doing this for an hour now."

Cagalli lifted her head, looking at Epstein carefully. And Cagalli saw unhappiness in his young face. She saw that he was burdened by Athrun's own unhappiness, and she felt a weight settle on her.

"It is my fault." Cagalli admitted, "I was foolish enough to provoke him. He was very kind to me, Epstein, but I chose to go against him so many times. Now, he will never trust me again."

The door's built-in locks opened and shut momentarily as Laplacia and Cartesia pattered out, wheeling away the utensils they had brought in to make tea. The scent of rose and strawberries, as well as butter cakes filled the white, steaming air, and Epstein let go of her momentarily.

He reached for a small, candied strawberry, transferring her head back to his shoulder and stroking her lips in the hopes of feeding her. There was a concern in his eyes that she felt touched at, for he was like a young boy who was trying to feed a sick, tired stray. Yet, his gentleness was to no avail, for she found no appetite.

"Surely you did not know that you were provoking him," Epstein said gently. "How could you? This happened some time ago, didn't it? When you made the decision to move on, how were you to know that he would have still cared and that-,"

"Epstein," Cagalli interrupted him, raising her head. "What are you saying? I don't understand-,"

"Well," He said in amazement, "I thought you were aware of why my master is in such a temper. He has not spoken of it, but it is clear that he was unhappy about the news he received upon his return."

"News?" She echoed, still not understanding. "What news?"

His eyes regarded her with confusion. "Why, news of your engagement to Britannia's Prime Minister, of course."

---

In the evening, Athrun visited her.

She had expected this- she had been waiting for him.

She had already prepared herself, all while the maids had collected the tea things and Laplacia had left, leaving Cartesia to watch over their master's captive. Cagalli had ignored her for most part, sitting on her bed and thinking, planning and plotting.

But she had fallen asleep, and at that point, it did not occur to her that he had come into her room and re-secured the door.

She had been dreaming of a garden she had once seen somewhere, a garden filled with roses and a soft bunny toy being pressed into her hand. She did not like it- she shook her head, trying to push it away. The boy smiling at her had a weak, white face she disliked- he smiled wider and she smelt the roses in the air.

And she suddenly awoke to the scent of his aftershave and the memory of a rose's fragrance filling her senses. Then she knew that had been asleep for quite some time. Surely she must have slept, for when Epstein had left, the maids had returned. What had they done? She couldn't remember- she had tried to convince one to let her out of the room. Her requests had become demands as she lost her resolve to stay calm, but then-

She stared blankly, blinking blindly. She couldn't remember.

The twins had probably bathed her and dressed her in a fresh dress and guided her back to her bed without her being fully aware of it. She was in a white muslin shift now, and she did not recall wearing it while having tea with Epstein. Before that-

She couldn't remember either. Strange.

Now, Athrun stood before her, a single white rose in his hand, and there was no expression on his face. She had detected the rose's scent and it had stirred the memories of the garden. The Seirans' rose garden, actually. Her father had pledged her as Yuna's playmate, although she had not understood the deeper implications of what it meant to tumble around in the grass, being forced to play hide and seek with the Seiran's only son.

Yuna had been a selfish child, bullying the servants' children, forcing them to give him piggybacks and their parents too, whipping the crawling children around with sticks he picked up. Cagalli had had her hair pulled by him, for it had been long once and tied with brightly-colored ribbons. Yuna had already been a tall boy, albeit one with a weak jaw and sly eyes, and she was such a small child that kicking and biting at him was futile. He found her every time she was forced to hide from him- and the rose bushes had scratched at her arms and face while he hauled her out, laughing and crowing to the other children that he had found his playmate. She had bitten his hand once, and he had slapped her in his rage, and she had ran away, hiding herself, sobbing even though she wasn't sorry she had bitten him and he had slapped her.

She hadn't thought of Yuna since he had died. She did not feel compassion for a man she despised, but that was another death and another stain on her hands that she did not want to remember.

Now, it occurred to Cagalli that she had never understood any man in her life. Not her father, not her twin, not Yuna Roma Seiran, and certainly not Athrun Zala.

Athrun's eyes regarded her coolly, and she realized how close he was standing. He had teased her senses while she had been in slumber, leaving the rose near her for her to stir and wake to its scent. But when she looked at him, she saw that he was careful to hide any clear emotion from his face.

He was guarding himself from her.

Drowsy with sleep, she struggled to open her eyes wider, rubbing to try and keep alert. The twins were nowhere in sight, even though they had stayed around to watch her being comforted by their master's other aide. Had they told Athrun of this? It occurred to her that the twins had given her more than just tea- surely, this heavy, comforting sensation was that of being sedated.

She could recall, very vaguely, a time when she had sat all day long doing nothing, staring into space, unaware of the bandages she wore. The doctors had given her heavy sedatives at someone's order to keep her from hurting herself. And when she finally regained herself, she had forgotten that unhappiness- working to keep her from remembering. But what she kept locked in her heart and her mind, her body still knew. This sluggish, doped feeling was familiar.

This was a similar nightmare to the past.

In that drowsy, heavy moment, she wondered if time had turned back. Had she been brought to The Isle only yesterday?

Frightened now, she glanced at her collarbone and found the scar there, but she was not bandaged and her orientation of time was righted then.

His eyes were staring straight at her, and she flinched.

"I'm not here to make things difficult for you." He told her simply. "This is the last time I will set eyes on you. After this, you will not see me again. Tomorrow, you will leave the Manor and be put in someone else's care."

She tried to speak but found that she could not. He was ruining all her plans. She lay there, unable to say something, unable to apologise if he wanted an apology, unable to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"But before that," Athrun said wearily. "I need you to answer my questions."

He stepped closer and she looked at him dully. He began to sit on her bed and force her to sit upright, but she found that she was not frightened.

She knew what to say to him. She knew what she would make him do.

In her mind, she was still bandaged, she had returned to two separate moments that had been merged into a single one now. She was thinking of the moment when she had awoken to find herself bloodied and bruised, a person's blood on her hands, she the survivor because she had chosen to kill, and Athrun standing by her side, throwing away flowers she was allergic to, telling her that there was a price for everything.

This was the only way to survive on The Isle.

"Ask and I will give you answers if I have them." She said softly, "But in return, promise me that you will hear my proposal after you have gotten the answers."

A wary look came over into his eyes, but she knew he would agree. This time, it was she who had information he wanted.

"Fine." He said curtly. "Tell me why you gave your hand to James Marlin."

She had been prepared for this the minute Epstein had told her that Athrun had shown anger at the news reports that his ward had collected for him while they were away.

"He kept silent for a very long time." Epsten had revealed. "And then he ordered me out. The only reason why I'm saying all this is because I want you to know that he cares more than you think. He cares more than I know, probably, more than I'm allowed to know."

Cagalli was going to make use of this now.

"The papers I've collected," He said breathing heavily, "Inform me that he is someone you got engaged to some time ago."

"As all political marriage usually go." She told him calmly. Her lies were only a means to an end. "To hold my power, I must marry by my twenty-sixth birthday and produce an heir, since I must continue the Atha line to remain in power. You know this as well as I do."

"Why him?" Athrun asked tensely.

"He was the most suitable candidate." Cagalli said simply. "That is all."

"Why did the media only release this information recently?" Athrun said abruptly. "If there had been an engagement in the past, as they now claim, wouldn't they have reported it?'

There was a lurking suspicion in his eyes and she knew that it would not do to let him probe too much into the matter.

Swallowing, she said steadily, "The Orb Parliament controls the press. It was advised by the Council of Elders that the engagement be used as a trump card, and it was kept secret."

"Trump card?"

"For a time when Orb would weather problems. The announcement of an engagement and marriage would distract from the problem, if there were such a situation."

She was actually telling the truth now. If she had gotten engaged, it would be kept secret until the news could be used to the government's advantage- there was a calculation and a purpose to every aspect of her life that she herself had no control over. The Council of Elders, a gathering of the other Nobles from the other houses, would decide which men she could see, which man she would marry, even which heir would take the throne.

Athrun himself knew that. He had known it so long ago. It had sealed his decision to renounce his name and become Alex Dino, her bodyguard- not so much because he wanted to forget his father, as Cagalli had assumed. It had been the only way he could have been with her.

Not that it made any difference now, he thought bitterly.

He recalled the reports he had seen. He had been collecting those over the years, keeping track of her for his duty's sake but taking a personal interest in those. He was furious now, that he had somehow neglected the reports that he had dismissed as idle rumors.

After all, it was common for the media to spy on the Orb Princess- these seven years had seen them making bets on who she would marry to fulfill her duties.

Picture after picture of her with different men, candidates, he knew, had been published. Cagalli Yula Atha, dining with the Head General of Orb, Cagalli Yula Atha giving her hand for the top American diplomat to kiss. Cagalli Yula Atha, wearing an exquisite kimono the Japanese Prince's had personally chosen and presented to her, he looking positively smitten. Cagalli Yula Atha, strolling with the Britannian Prime Minister in the royal parks while visiting London. There were so many powerful, charismatic and attractive men who wanted the Orb Princess' hand. Too many men, too many candidates.

In the past, Athrun had suspected that the Orb Parliament allowed those to be published to persuade the public that she was keen on fulfilling her duties, lest they accuse her of wanting to keep power entirely to herself.

Now, he was cursing his carelessness. There were more reports of Marlin accompanying the Orb Princess to various functions than any other man. He should have seen the truth amidst the clever ruse the Orb Council of Elders had used. Hadn't the reporters taken photos of them looking closer than she had ever been with any other man? Hadn't her general tolerance towards those reports been something uncommon as compared to how strict she had been when the papers had suggested her being with other random candidates in the past?

For that matter, hadn't Cagalli spoken of 'Jimmy' when she had been intoxicated at Rochester's estate? So many pieces were coming together now.

She was looking at him quietly. "The Council of Elders must have released this piece of information because it is a crucial time for Orb now. Perhaps they are demanding that a new leader is elected in light of my disappearance- and perhaps this is to distract them from the issue at hand."

"How like Orb." He said sarcastically. "Always so open and so trusting of the public's opinion towards its government."

She shrugged. "The best way to do things isn't always necessarily the most morally correct way."

His eyes darkened, and he reached forward, gripping her shoulders.

"Tell me if you love him." He demanded.

"That is not the issue at hand." Cagalli said simply, quietly. "He is the most suitable person to fulfill my duties with. The elders chose him from all the others because he is the person Orb will benefit the most from. I am not adverse to him either."

She stared up at him, and for once, he could not read her mind. She was reading his. He hated her then. He wanted to tell her how much she'd hurt him, how much he wanted to turn back time, but perhaps she already knew. Perhaps she was already using it against him.

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" He said, a rage building up in him. "Why didn't you tell me? When you asked me for information, the night before we came back to The Isle, were you thinking of returning to him? When you told me that I meant something to you, were you lying to me so that I'd trust you and let you go back to Orb- to him?"

His voice was growing louder and strained, and she knew that he had been baited. Cagalli drew in a breath, praying for the courage to lie to him and to save them both.

Then she wrapped her arms around him and pulling him to her as they sank into her bed. She caught him by surprise, and she had hoped to pin him down, but his instincts were so honed that she was the one who found herself lying on her back. He stopped himself from crushing her with his weight, crouching above her, supporting his weight with his forearms and knees.

She reached up to him and stroked his face with his hands, bringing him into a stunned silence.

"Does it matter?" Cagalli said softly. "Does all this matter anymore? I'm here, aren't I? I can't return to him, can I?"

There was something different about her now, he saw that immediately. He had lost control, but she had gained it. She was in a more submissive position, but she had the upper hand, and he was aware of it.

She began to undo the top few buttons of his shirt and she placed her warm, throbbing lips to his cool neck and collarbone. Her hands wandered to the underside of his shirt as she pulled it loose, running her hands over his flesh to feel his abdomen. There was a recklessness in her as she stroked his cheek with her finger, and he was seized by an unbearable lust.

"Will you hear my proposal now?" She said huskily. Her naturally mellow, alto voice dipped in pitch, and he felt the air compress around him.

"No," He said fitfully, pulling her hands away although he did not get off and away from her. There was a certain dominance in his position, and he would make full use of that to extract information. "I haven't finished asking."

Her eyes surveyed him with a calm steadiness. He felt like she was mocking him, mocking the fact that he was so worked up over something he could not change.

"How long have you been with Marlin?" He asked quietly. "As man and wife?"

She looked at him confidently, only that she had never been a good liar with him, and the sultriness had a hint of uncertainty in her. He did not see the hesitation in her, however, for he was too intent on hearing her answer.

"Two years now, although we haven't been officially married." Cagalli said. She manipulated her tone and expression now, telling Athrun him carelessly. "Still, we are to marry, and these plans have already been accepted by the Orb Royals, the Council of Elders and Marlin's own minders. Surely that warrants unfettered excess to each other?"

She was lying to him about her engagement to Marlin because of two main reasons- she wanted to have some kind of information that he did not have. It would serve to her advantage.

Secondly, she had wanted to gauge his reaction to her telling him that she had been with Marlin. Clearly, Athrun had been jealous. A jealous person could be easily goaded into wanting something it did not have yet even if had to trade it more than what was reasonable or fair. She was only setting up the stage for the moment when she told him of her proposal- and this time, she had information he did not and she was a step ahead of him.

"Unfettered excess." He said numbly. "He must have had you already. Was that why you couldn't love me in return?"

"No," Cagalli said tersely. "Until we are officially married, he keeps out of my affairs."

"Affairs?"

"Surely I don't have to explain myself any further?" She said wryly. "You were probably an experienced lover even when we first met."

She ran her smooth hand to his collarbone and traced a finger down his chest, until he knocked her hand away.

"Tell me," He interrupted. "Tell me how you met him."

Cagalli was prepared for this. She had thought of everything to say, everything she would tell him to lead him into her proposal. She looked at him directly, for that was the best way to lie.

"We were acquaintances for some time, and then we were engaged in secret, with the blessings of our countries. The people have not been informed it yet. However, he visits the Atha Estate as frequently as he can."

Despite every effort to prevent himself, Athrun thought of her, soft, welcoming body, imagining her panting and letting another man make love to her, one who had the right to touch her, to possess her and to hold her and watch her fall asleep. Athrun could imagine what it would be like for Britannia's Prime Minister- a man who wielded the power that Orb wanted its hands on. A man who like so many others, had become besotted with the Orb Princess and had the fortune of marrying her without realizing that she was already married to her country.

And yet, Athrun understood why James Marlin had been willing to do all this- to visit his fiancée in secret, to hide from the press, to subject himself to Orb's wishes, to align himself with the Orb Council of Elders' traditions and secrets. What for? Why, simply the chance to enter that estate, through the tall, iron gates and to knock on that door and be received by a woman like her!

"As frequently as he can?" Athrun breathed. He was suffocating from his pain and the thought of her with another man.

She stared at him, a trace of rebelliousness coming into the shape of her mouth. He reached his hand to her lips wildly, stroking her mouth, watching as she flinched.

"Then that's just as good." He said impulsively. His expression grew stubborn and he began to smile, only that it was filled with a searing, wild misery.

His hands found her shift, and swiftly, he untied the straps that held it in place. The cloth loosened in his hands although he did not continue to pull it completely loose. And she kept still, determined not to waver. This had been what she planned, she told herself firmly. There was no way to back out of it.

"I'm going to show you that I need you more than Orb or Marlin ever will." He told her. There was an insane rage in his eyes that belied his true feelings, however. "If you've been with him, then it's all the better for me. You'll know that he was nothing because he only wanted you for your power.

"You underestimate me," She retorted, impassioned by her pride. "I may have married him as a trophy wife, but in no way am I one."

"I know." Athrun said directly, surprising her. He smiled again, this time, a smile that sent a wave of want and electricity through her- an animal's smile that changed what she understood of him suddenly.

"You don't love him, nor do you see him as your equal. It's precisely because I know, that I'm going to make love to you, not as someone who wants your power, but as someone who wants you."

She felt a frisson of fear and desire run through her. Perhaps it was true, how she had never been able to love Marlin, because he was not a man who could make her forget Orb. Neither was he a man who she felt an emotional connection with- he was too handsome, too charming, too clever, too much of everything, too perfect. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he would never understand how she struggled. He had never struggled in his life before.

The man who was kissing her lips now, however, was something very different. This man had his scars, his flaws, a cruelty to him that ran in his blood despite his nature as one with a strong, fair heart. She lay there, responding to him, touching his face, running her hands over his shoulders, enjoying his warmth despite the situation and the deceit that sullied everything. She was pulling him into a trap, and he was falling for it. Yet, he was still dominating her, and she found that she was pleased by it.

It showed from how she lay on the bed, how she allowed him to be above her, where he was clearly in power. It was exceedingly clear that he had the advantage of strength, cunning and information whereas she did not.

But Cagalli had yet to make her proposal- and from the looks of it, he was actually playing along into her hands. That was all she needed to do for now; to lead him into agreeing to let her go.

She watched numbly as he moved over her, letting his weight sink over her now, no longer consciously keeping away from her. His arms found hers as he pinned her down, although she did not struggle. With some surprise, he looked at her, and she shocked him even further by seizing his mouth with hers.

But for Cagalli, it was what she had wanted for so long. Those white, perfect forearms felt as she had imagined- today, she would be able to touch him without hesitation. And her hands ran across those forearms, fingering the veins and tautness of the limbs that held her as well.

If only he wanted her, she thought miserably. If only he wanted her for being someone he loved, not because his pride had been hurt by her revealing that she had married someone else for power but refused to give in to their desires for the sake of keeping that same power.

She folded her arms around Athrun, bringing them up to his shoulders and neck. Almost carelessly, he slid his hands up her sides, across the downy, bared back that her shift revealed, fingering the straps of the dress that did not sit on her shoulders but now hung off her arms. He pulled those down a little lower, and her neckline dipped even more. Any more, and her breasts would be visible.

When they finally parted for the necessity of air, she was gasping slightly. His eyes were narrowed, that strange, oddly-beautiful half-smile lingering near his lips. "Was that your idea of a seduction?"

It was obvious that he could seduce her without trying, whereas the opposite was true for her.

But he held on firmly and crushed her towards him, daring her to disobey his will. His voice tickled her earlobe and she trembled.

"Ah, but weren't you the one trying to seduce the Orb Princess?" She murmured. Her voice was rough, although she wasn't acting at all. "Surely, you don't want the people giving you orders to find us rolling around on the bed?"

Athrun bared his teeth in a strange, ghoulish grin. It suited him- she thought dazedly, anything suited him. "If I had any less regard for duty and both our situations, I would have taken you to bed a long time ago."

"Was your duty the real reason why you didn't, that night at Rochester's?" She asked, a little taken aback.

"No." He said simply. He looked at her seriously for a moment, admitting more than he wanted to. "At that point, it was to heck with duty. You surprised me, actually. I always thought you would be too reserved- too pious, too careful of the implications of your status as the Orb Princess, to have a casual relationship with a man. I assumed that you weren't looking for a casual relationship actually. I couldn't bear the thought of bringing you to my bed and leaving you in the morning. But when I realised that all you wanted was a casual relationship to forget your pain, I knew I had to stop it."

She was privately touched by this.

"Even now," He said teasingly, brushing his lips against her shoulder, running his fingers along its smooth, spherical surface. "I never thought you would want this- I assumed you were waiting for me to seduce you."

"What makes you think I was waiting for you to seduce me?" She said impetuously. "Haven't you realized that it's the other way around this time?"

He remained silent, although his eyes darkened. It was true- she was clearly teasing him, tempting him. But then, so was he. It occurred to him now, that they were testing each other with very dangerous tools of deception and desire.

"Athrun," She said hesitantly, "You've had your answers. Now listen to my proposal."

He looked at her with a hint of impatience, a desire in his face that made her realize how susceptible he was to her. With some guilt, she led him on, putting her finger near his bottom lip and stroking it until he yanked her hand away, holding it in his hand.

"Why now?" He said directly, suspecting what was actually the truth. "Why don't we wait until we finish what has been going on for far too long?'

She wanted to. She would have liked to be with him, to be his lover and to give him the happiness he deserved. But this was the only way to give them both their release, she thought painfully. This was the only way.

So Cagalli looked at him and said simply, "But that's part of my proposal."

He stared, not understanding.

"I'll give you anything you want if you agree to release me from The Isle."

His eyes widened suddenly. He saw that she was not struggling, he saw that there was a calmness in her eyes, the way he had seen people look while they had knelt and waited for their turn to be shot. She was an animal, a sacrifice- she was sacrificing herself, and he saw that she was making use of his feelings for her.

At that point, it should have been enough.

How dare she assume he could be bought over with her flesh, how dare she assume it was enough when he had given up nearly everything Athrun Zala had for her heart?

He should have gotten away, left and locked the room until it was time to hand her over, whereby he would never see something that could destroy him ever again.

But he gazed down at her and ran his hands across her abdomen, feeling the warmth of her flesh rise from beneath the thin white muslin shift. He could not resist her. Her breasts were nearly visible, and a single yank of the material would reveal them if he wanted. Looking at her sent hives down his back, a need so great he nearly bit his lips. The last time he had had a woman had been far too long ago. The only woman he had ever wanted was now in front of him, and yet, there was a price to her.

"Give me the information." She repeated. "I'll give you anything."

He tested her now.

"Even your body?"

He looked at her, and she watched as his face lost its calm, measured nature and changed. There was a numb, cold anger about it, and he moved off as she sat up.

"Will you not understand?" He said grimly. She had hurt him so many times- but this was the most agonizing. She had never wanted him- she had only been making use of him.

He stood, massaging his temples. "You need only stay six months. No less. Your desperation provokes me- it sickens me."

She stood as well, mute for a second, one second where she thought she would die from the hurt and the humiliation. But then she moved to him swiftly, her lips against his warm throat because she was not as tall as him and could not kiss him as easily as he could her. Her breasts were pressing against his chest, and he felt himself tighten. Against his will, he caressed her back, her smooth, white back that promised to be even silkier between the sheets of his bed and against the rough pads of his fingers.

"You can say or think anything you like of m. But I'll do anything," Cagalli promised. Her voice was hoarse. She was begging. "Please. Just take what you want and let me go back to Orb."

"You would even let me take you to bed?" He said darkly. "Are you so desperate for an early release from The Isle?"

She drew in a deep breath, knowing what she had to do. Acquiescence was necessary for her to win this gamble and return. "I don't care. I need to go back to Orb as soon as I can. One night- you can do anything you want. And then let me go."

"And what about your fiancée?" Athrun asked sardonically. "I reckon that the Britannian Prime Minister wouldn't like to find that his wife-to-be became her captor's lover. I'd be hanged- you'd be reduced to a common whore. Of course, I'm assuming that you have to display a bloody sheet the morning after the wedding. But isn't it a valid assumption? What else would get Orb its investments and more military power from Britannia?"

He looked at her with contempt, taunting her.

"No," She lied wildly. "I was experienced even before him."

He looked at her with some surprise, and then a growing realization. This recklessness had probably been shown to others. Perhaps, Cagalli had been stripped her title and her responsibilities along with her clothes during the night, driven by her loneliness and yet, unable to love. Athrun was now thinking of how easily she had offered herself to him that night at Rochester's- how easily she had gotten tipsy.

For Cagalli, she could see doubt in his eyes, and while she felt mortification at his thinking that she was easy, she knew it was necessary.

"No." He said eventually. "I won't accept your proposal."

"Why?" She said exasperatedly.

He looked at her savagely, and she felt herself become defensive. Surely, her inexperience and ignorance was not so clear? She decided to push her lies further.

"Perhaps you deem me unfit as a lover?" Cagalli said boldly. Her arms around his neck circled him tighter as she stared stubbornly at him. "Marlin did not think so. He told me otherwise, as the others have."

Athrun stared at her, not really believing her. Unlike what she believed, he was not disgusted at what she was saying- but he was surprised, nonetheless.

"Besides," Cagalli said softly, "There's only one way to prove that I can please a man, even one as experienced as you. If you accept my proposal-,"

"That's not the issue." He interrupted. He felt his anger and lust boiling like warm, feverish blood. The thought of her with another only because that man was of use to Orb, made him sick to the stomach.

Now he found resentment springing in him.

He wanted to have her more than ever, because he wanted to prove that she wanted him, that he mattered to her more than Orb ever would, and that he was the only man who he deserved her.

At the same time, he didn't want to let her do this. If she didn't love him, nothing he did would change that. He loved her even if she didn't love herself, and for that, he couldn't let her do this.

So he looked at her coldly, unwinding her arms and going to sit by the bed, leaving her standing there. His voice was taut with unhappiness, but he did not know how to mask it.

"Having you in my bed is not worth the information about the damn Isle, its whereabouts, its nature, every single thing about that wretched place. You're not worth the trouble. Your judgment was poor when it came to your own value."

She stared at him, her eyes beginning to redden, and she bit her lips, trying not cry. She wondered what he would have thought of her if she hadn't lied to him and told him that she was an experienced lover. He would have been even less agreeable to considering the proposal.

But he looked at her and suddenly, his eyes softened. "You're worth more than the information about this damned place."

Cagalli took a step closer, hesitant. But she had also underestimated the extent of his need for her. In a fluid, forceful movement, Athrun pulled her closer to him, cradling her as she settled on his lap, not by choice, but by the force of his motion.

And Athrun kissed her gently on her forehead.

She strained up to him, tense with longing and she buried her face near his neck. Her hands splayed on his chest, and her breathing was in tandem with his. "Athrun, please, I want this-"

He disentangled her roughly although he did not push her away. He could not find the strength to do so. "If you want to exchange something, I'm not the person you can gain anything from."

"Why?" She said desperately.

"I want nothing more of you." He said dully. "Nothing more that you can give."

"Why do you say that?" She said in dismay. "Were you leading me on and making me believe that you wanted me?"

He looked at her grimly. "I'm not capable of that when it comes to you, Cagalli. By now, if you haven't learnt that I don't merely want your body, then you disappoint me."

"So you do want me then," She challenged. "Why don't you accept my proposal? If you just take it, you would have gained something you never had. Why not then?"

He shook his head, looking at her with sadness in his face. She could not bear it.

"If you can't let me go back before the six months are up, why don't you give me the information that I want?" She pleaded, hoping for anything now. "I only need to know what Orb is doing now, what its situation is like now. Give it to me, because I cannot leave Orb with just that information. You risk little."

This was untrue. He knew all the risks behind revealing that classified information. If the Eyes found about this- heck, if their superiors heard about this, he would be in a predicament that would cost him a great deal.

"What will you exchange?" He said coldly. "Your body still?"

"No," She said hoarsely, abruptly.

If Athrun took her to bed, he would surely realize that she had never been touched by anyone else before. That was not so much of a problem- the problem was that she had lied to him and told him that she was experienced. In doing that, Cagalli believed that had made herself more desirable than she could ever be.

If she slept with him, Athrun would mock her, surely, and he would realize that nobody had really wanted someone like her. If he took her to bed only once and let her leave right after that, she would leave with a shred of dignity yet. If she slept with him and had to face him for the rest of the time, she would die of the humiliation.

She would have to face him every day for the rest of the months, with him aware that she was nothing but a façade in more ways than one. As the Orb Princess, she had failed. He would know that she had failed as a woman too. She could not allow him to see her fail in this aspect as well.

"No." Cagalli said again. An obstinate, obtuse look was coming into her face. "Not unless you let me go back immediately after one night."

"But that's impossible, since I won't let you return until six months are over. So what can you give then?" He said tauntingly. "Your wealth? Your military secrets?'

"If you want those," She said helplessly. "I am willing."

He laughed. He stood there and laughed, a bitter, quiet chuckle. His eyes were like cold chips in his face, and she saw cruelty in his expression. "You have nothing left, Cagalli. I already told you. You cannot trade when there is nothing more of you that I want."

"Half of me," She said abruptly, desperately. "You can have half of me if you will trade it for the information."

His laughter died away and he looked at her. A strange expression lurked in him but she was too frantic, too flustered to understand what it was.

So when he nodded slowly, she was too relieved to understand that pain and disappointment had filled him when she had pressed on, insulting his love by offering herself for information.

Athrun stared at her and found a very pleasurable but somehow uncomfortable rush to his loins. But he hated her suddenly, hated himself for even loving her.

He chuckled softly to disguise his disconcertment. "You are not a fool- I wouldn't have loved you if you had been that. Surely, you know the implications of what you are offering. Do you really want to play this game?"

Cagalli nodded. "I'll give you what you want."

In a matter of a moment and a quick push, he had forced her to lie on the bed, moving over her as he had previously, but this time locking her under him and snaking a hand to her waist, trailing it up to her chest. He peeled open her loosened shift, but did not reveal her breasts entirely, for that would have been agony for him. He slid a hand beneath the flap of cloth to cup her, watching how she flinched. His palm met not her bare flesh, but another layer of binding. He exhaled, the binding reminding him that he could not be impatient but had to take her slowly. "Then I want to touch you."

Cagalli looked at him shyly, with some fear. In that sort lapse of focus, she had lost her nerve. It was all she could do to keep from pushing him away in fear that he would find out that no other man had come so close to her.

"But-," She said in a small voice, "You already have. And you are now-," She blushed deeper and lowered her head while he smiled and shifted his hand to her cheek, stroking it. She was still sitting on his lap, and she could feel him stir, making her nervous but strangely excited.

"Not properly," He whispered. "I have never touched you properly."

He knew she was frightened, and suddenly, it did not disturb him but gave him pleasure to watch her discomfort.

There was, after all, a very thin line between love and hatred.

"I want you to bare yourself for me. Completely. Let me see you." He told her. "I want to touch those and have you watch me, sober, awake, knowing that you were the one who gave, and I did not take without you giving."

She bit her lips, unable to refuse now.

"As long as you give me the information I want, that's fine." She said hesitantly.

"I keep to my word." He said emphatically. "And in return, anything above your waist belongs to me now. You'll have dinner with me first, and then you'll prepare yourself and sleep in my room, in my bed from this night onwards."

She shook her head with mute fear, and then stammered, "I didn't agree to that- I,"

He leaned towards her with a small, bitter smile that still sent a thrill up her body. "I can't detach half of you off and keep it with me, can I?"

She was silent. She had promised him half of her, and she would have to keep to her word. It was becoming clear that he drove a hard bargain, but she could not refuse.

"I suppose you'll be afraid to carry out your side of the deal now." He said, taunting her, still hurt by her and wanting to hurt her in return. "Someone as-pious and as self-righteous as you, being by Athrun Zala's side. I am a fugitive, someone who the world has forgotten about but remembers only because of a lunatic father who sired him out of a need to answer to society. I am a man that Orb will never approve of, a man you can never approve of because Orb doesn't. But you'll be granting me favors, all by your own admission- the righteous Orb Princess who is to be married to one of the most powerful men in the world as part of her duties. Tell me, do you still want to play this game?"

She realized that she was trembling.

Her eyes pooled with tears even though she spoke rashly. "Consider it done."

---

Their dinner in her room was a tense affair. The maids brought in porcelain plates heaped with smoked meat and potatoes mashed into a cream. There were luscious peas and carrots lined around a snow-trout, and chocolate gateau with marzipan pearls in oyster shells for dessert.

The flowers were set beautifully, even more luxuriant than the usual.

All around her, there were sprays of vanilla dahlias and baby's breath with tiny white pigeon orchids, illuminated by cinnamon-scented candles.

But as Cagalli sat by the table, waiting for Athrun to arrive, she registered nothing of the sumptuous display.

The maids had brought in the golden dress that she had never wanted to see again. It was as if Athrun were taunting her, reminding her that he had had enough of women to not really need one like her. It was a reminder of how she had offered herself to him that night at Rochester's, and how he had pushed her away.

This evening, however, she was presented with a silk ribbon, a quail's egg ruby for her to wear around her neck. She had put everything on, understanding that he had ordered this and expected her obedience.

This was some kind of elaborate ceremony, she thought tensely, this parody of a romantic meeting for lovers.

It was poetic irony that she had spent so long preparing herself.

Cagalli never taken particular care with her appearance for all the other suitors who would have given her the world if she had asked for it.

But tonight, she had done everything in her power to make herself attractive for a man whom she could not afford to be attracted to. He would not give her back her world even if she begged for it- she would have to trick him into giving her information, little by little.

So Cagalli had taken extra care with everything tonight- putting on a perfume that she would have never worn, making some effort to do up the long hair that reached almost half of her back now. It was now in an elegant twist and secured with diamond pins.

She wore nothing on her face but a blood red for her lips. Cagalli wondered if she looked as stunning as Aaron had always insisted when she bothered at all. Perhaps, her best friend had only said all that out of obligation. Nothing she did could instill the confidence she wanted so badly tonight.

When she heard him entering, she looked up, just in time to see the maids leave quietly. Her expression in the vanity mirror on the other side of the room was a frantic, harassed one, despite her overall appearance.

Athrun, on the other hand, looked calm and collected, having taken a bath and appearing for dinner in a fresh set of clothes. He wore a plain white shirt, dark pants and no smile, no hint of warmth in him anymore. There was such casualness and ease to his demeanour that made his simple, crisp attire seem almost expensive and more elaborate than anything Cagalli had put on.

It was from this that Cagalli knew that he had, in no way, put in the effort that she had. In fact, he seemed to have put in none at all, as if he refused to.

She felt more self-conscious than ever, feeling like he'd played her out by refusing to disguise the sordid nature of the night. In doing so, he had shamed her even more. She felt like a harlot, dressed-up, lips reddened, nails painted scarlet, lingerie under a dress she did not feel she could wear. And this was all for his sake, while he maintained his dignity, as if he had merely arrived from work and slotted in an hour of time for her, at her request, as if he was a paying customer she had somehow ended up falling for.

And really, she thought desperately. This was probably the case.

Athrun barely looked at her, merely nodding curtly to show his approval before looking elsewhere. And he set himself to the meal, taking his own time to enjoy it. Cagalli on the other hand, found no will to do anything, save stare at him.

He ignored her throughout most of dinner and she could scarcely swallow anything. Her room looked sickeningly unfamiliar to her, and she was glad that she had not eaten anything.

She watched as he ate calmly.

There was veal, and he sliced it precisely, slowly, putting a small sliver into his mouth and chewing almost unnoticeably. He had beautiful manners, those of a cat, effortlessly dainty and naturally polished. But Cagalli was disconcerted by the way in which he ate; how he tasted the food, how he took sips of a deep burgundy wine, but seemed to find no joy in the meal.

It occurred to her that every delicacy that existed might have been placed before him, but he would eat only unhurriedly, politely and delicately. Athrun did not seem to find enjoyment in the finery he had been having all this time- he seemed to eat with a kind of tolerance rather than gusto. And the man before her did not seem to be one who ate for pleasure, but for the greater purpose of sustaining himself.

She thought of how he had looked at her when she had agreed to let him do what he wanted with her. There had been lust, an animal's drive, certainly, but not quite as much as bitterness, and sorrow.

There was neither been greed and gluttony in the manner in which he ate, nor the way he had looked at her. There had only been an inevitability in his eyes, as if he knew that this had been coming all along.

So Cagalli found herself wondering if he would find pleasure in touching her at all.

When he made love to a woman, she wondered, was he like a cat eating too? All immaculate, neat and very sparing, without much ado or any consideration for the environment or whoever who was before him?

Throughout the course of his meal and her watching of him eat, the tension had developed into something Cagalli was very unfamiliar with. There had been something sensual, something almost quixotic about the way he ate, despite its mechanic patterns. He had used the utensils almost surgically, working through the range almost methodically, and she had noticed but not registered this.

Without realising it, she had witnessed his feasting as she would a lion partake its meal, how it showed dominance over its prey. It both terrified and electrified her. For she had found herself wondering if he would consume her in such a manner, dominate both her will and body. Would he enjoy it and show it?

When she was conscious of these thoughts, Cagalli blushed and lowered her head, not daring to look at him.

Because she could not deny the thoughts about what he would do, Cagalli tried to remind herself that any gratification he might gain from her would be a coincidence rather than a conscious effort to please him on her part.

Whether or not he found pleasure was besides the issue. Cagalli would not go out of her way to please him. After all, they had agreed to this because there were mutual benefits both could gain- she ought not to care about his feelings or the benefits he gained as long as she gained what she had set out to have. She would shut her eyes tightly throughout the ordeal she would eventually have to face later, and she would see nothing and feel nothing.

But Cagalli's eyes wandered to his mouth and hands throughout the meal, the hands that smelt of clean soap, his mouth that bore witness to the anise, cinnamon and similar spices in his wine. He had a scented, sensual mouth that looked tender and soft, articulating words and pronouncing those beautifully. But it was also one that could be demanding, rough and even primitive.

And she was embarrassed by how she was fascinated by his mouth. For she didn't understand how she could be so fixated on something so- so undeniably physical about the man seated before her.

She lifted the goblet to her lips, not tasting but watching him. If she had tasted and registered, she would have known that she had not been served wine on Athurn's orders.

Cagalli did not have enough self-awareness to understand her own reaction to him. Since she had always distanced herself from the sensuality of human bodies, she could only make wild guesses as to how his body would feel against hers.

Her guesses were ill-informed; thanks to her alienating herself from the conversations she had no experience to share of. But she was sure about one thing- she did not want Athrun to guess that she was guessing her way about.

He would never see her as someone worthy of his attention ever again.

The truth was that Cagalli knew very little about these things. What she understood of the things that pleased a man were all from Aaron- who was gay and probably not the best representation of a man's tastes.

The other things that Cagalli knew about were all things she had listened rather unwillingly to. Some of her friends complained about their boyfriends periodically- from their lack of sensitivity and care, even their performances in bed. Cagalli did not like to hear about the emotional aspect of relationships, but she was even more eager to avoid hearing about the physical aspects.

The idea of sex both frightened and fascinated her- she was awkward and unwilling to hear or talk about it, although she did imagine what the deed would eventually be like at times. She couldn't help noticing those around her seemed to be having lives of scandal and intrigue; even the secretary a floor below her office with the love-bites on her neck.

Cagalli, on the other hand, wanted nothing of that. Granted, she had been attracted to plenty of men, but she always found a way to ignore or become immune to them. A tryst was out of the question, let alone a relationship- she did not want to entertain the idea of being involved with a man. When Marlin had proposed, it had been easy to dismiss him as another man who was being pushed around by his country or a man who was foolish enough to want her for power.

Perhaps, her inexperience and immaturity in matters such as these only stemmed from her assumption that she simply wasn't attractive as a woman.

As the Orb Princess, she was quite sure that she was attractive, only because Cagalli was convinced that men were attracted to power and a conquest that involved someone of her status.

But it seemed to her that no man would really love a woman like her beyond the fact that she was the Orb Princess. And therefore, she did not want to let any man close.

Even flings were unthinkable- without saying this to anyone, without even any semblance of self-awareness, Cagalli had always assumed that any man to be allowed close was a man she had to love first. Nobody had imposed that rule on her- she herself wasn't even aware that there wasn't such a rule. She simply assumed that any man she slept with had to be one she loved.

So now, she found herself in a terrible dilemma. It would have been foolish to lie and say that she wasn't attracted to him or that she didn't love him. But Cagalli was anxious to prevent him from discovering that she had never been touched. And that was why she couldn't let him take her to bed. He would realise that nobody really wanted her- and he would lose interest and care little for her.

And so, she trembled as he drank the last of his wine, set his utensils neatly on the plate, and dabbed his lips with a snow napkin, his eyes fixed on her face.

Her eyes gazed at him hesitantly. Her food was untouched, and his eyes lingered on it before moving to her face.

"It's getting late." Athrun said finally. This was the first thing he had said since coming into her room. "Come. I want to sleep."

His eyes studied her soberly, and she lifted her head, flinching. She wished he would look at her with something that she could hate him for, to think lowly of him for. But he gave her none of what she had expected from meeting so many men, and it confused her.

She imagined that he would lead her out of her room, towards a corridor. There would be no signs of anyone anywhere, nobody to save her from him and herself. He had spoken to her of the Wing he kept for business and one for private matters, and she wondered if how many other women he had led to his bedroom.

But when Athrun did not unlock the door, but led her to a wall at the far side of her room, she was surprised. The wall was one that she had never paid any attention to because it was curtained and there was apparently nothing there. But how wrong she had been!

"What is that?" She said uncomfortably, staring at the surface he revelaed by lifting the curtain out of the way.

He looked at her mildly, as if he were amused by her question. And she understood why as he lifted the curtain and produced a small, iron key.

In that moment, she understood.

With someone like him, how could he not have his way of entering her room without coming from another passage? He had always used the main entrance, that was true. But her experience and time with Rune Estragon should have shown her his cunning and his ways of entrapping a person the way a spider did its prey. How could she have failed to suspect that a passageway existed here?

His fingers traced an innocuous looking brick and he located a little opening that was almost invisible. He pushed the small key in, and the brick door slid open, a mosaic of cement and terracotta, grinding a bit noisily ad echoing into the tunnel before them.

The door had been part of the wall before this, chameleon-like with its texture.

And Cagalli she stared at the passageway that lighted up automatically. It was narrow, but adequate for a person to walk comfortably through it. Athrun took a step forward, leading the way, not looking at her. But he took her hand in his, guiding her in and shutting the door whereby it automatically locked. She would never return to that room.

And his hand was warm around her cold one and she felt the heat and electricity of her body responding to him, despite her fear. But she held her head high, her face blank although she was sobbing inwardly. His aftershave filled her senses, and she felt strange and light, even though something was aching in her.

She counted the steps. Cagalli knew then, that if he wanted to enter her chamber, all he had to do was to walk from his room to hers, through the passageway, and it would have been fewer than sixty steps.

The thought filled her with a strange apprehension that somehow seemed like anticipation.

Then he guided her through another door, into his room, and she stared, blinking blindly at the interior of his room, all while he locked the door they had previously entered.

She stared, looking at how sparse his room was, how empty and devoid of a human touch it seemed. There was a lone window, far at the end of the large room, but she could see nothing through it with all the curtains drawn. The air was scented with musk and perhaps vanilla, but she could not tell. It seemed unlikely that anyone even stayed here.

It was all done in a deep maroon and sepia that should have made the atmosphere comfortable. But even with the lighted candles, the warm glow did not suffice in making the cold vanish. There were no flowers in his room, no homely touch despite the richness of materials and his clearly impeccable tastes. There were no books or things haphazardly thrown around- there was a basket of apples on a small, beautiful table, but there was nothing welcoming about it. A chaise lounge sat at one side of the room, but no picture hung above it.

And Cagalli thought of a hotel room, furnished with lovely things that nobody would have any real attachment to it. It would be a place for temporary things, for time to simply pass, a place that was not worth remembering. And the thought of this made her distressed, despite her insistence that such a deal had nothing to do with feelings.

"Athrun," She whispered, feeling like an intruder, "Is this your room?"

Nothing in it looked as if it belonged to him. Not even the wardrobe, which was probably filled with his shirts and shoes and other things. Even the little writing desk had a pen that looked as if he did not use it.

He looked at her directly. "Yes. But I do not come here often."

"Oh-," She said, made strangely unhappy by gaining this new piece of knowledge. "I see. I thought-,"

But he silenced her by stepping behind her, closing his arms around her from behind, trapping her. It was obvious what he was telling her. He did not care to hear what she thought of the place, his room, him. He did not care. He wanted her to fulfill her side of the bargain now.

And she caught a breath, shuddering, but without the repulse she had expected. His arms were cold at first, but then she realised that she was warming him and that the contact sustained a feedback, a loop of warmth between them.

Her eyes darted around her, suddenly registering the fact that they were standing in the centre of the room, a four-poster far at the other side, a long, wide mirror hanging on the immediate wall they both faced. It was an ornate mirror, its frame a copper-tinged gold with spirals and vines like fingers on the glass perimeter. It was a beautiful mirror, but the glass seemed like ice- sharp and cruel.

The mirror was foreign to her, as were the reflections of themselves. Granted, they'd had physical contact before, and she had sensed what he wanted from the contact. The mirror was only reminding her that this was just another moment.

But the sight of her being wrapped in his embrace had a new sensuality, a vision that had its totality, a sight that made her very aware of their bodies. She was viewing them now as a third party, looking at the man and woman entwined in the man's embrace, as if she wasn't the woman.

It was altogether a new, dizzying intimacy that she was afraid to admit.

At the same time, his arms and the familiarity of his embrace did not distract from the unfamiliar, hard glint in his eyes. She was looking at his eyes in the mirror, and those made her feel uneasy.

How strange his eyes were! In this light, she thought those were hardly emerald- those resembled an amber, a yellow rather like hers, save that her eyes now seemed gold in this light. He was staring at her reflection, his hold and gaze equally possessive, and only the warmth of his body told her that he was human.

He kissed her neck, and she trembled, feeling his hand snake to her waist and press her closer to him. She was frozen, rooted and petrified by their reflections; by how beautifully their forms were wrapped in each others'.

Then his fingers located the buttons on her dress, and he began to undo those with a hand, the other hand still holding her by her waist, to him. He undid the buttons methodically, with precision and a cold calculation that made her very nervous. She shifted a little, although she held her chin high and proud. She would not cry out even if he struck her- why should his stroking her achieve a sound from her?

His expression grew steely in the mirror, and he said softly, "Why don't you struggle against me or cry out?"

In that instant, she was reminded of how he had eaten, how surgically he had divided his meal into portions that were consumed in slivers. He was not a man that ate for pleasure, she thought. He ate for sustenance.

"Because you are a man of your word and I can assure you of mine as well." She said stiffly.

"Good." He said simply, releasing the last of the buttons from their slots.

The silk dress unfurled as it went past her waist, down to the ground, pooling near her ankles, and she trembled, sensing her vulnerability. And his arm slid across her waist once more, reclaiming her as his even as her outer skin was shed.

And with a suppressed gasp, she saw and felt her dress unfolding, like butterfly wings parting, his hands aiding the material as it slid down from her torso. And the mirror told her that he seemed to be peeling her out, exposing her as a bare, soft silkworm would be.

She was without her cocoon of protection now, but she was covered by her remaining few garments still. The ruby around her neck weighed down like a terrible burden, bleeding light over her breasts- his mark on her.

He looked into the mirror, watching her as they both looked at their reflections.

Without hurry, with a gentleness that surprised her, he slid a hand to the upper-half of her breast, touching the partially exposed flesh with his fingertips. She trembled, frightened, as he inspected the way she had bound her breasts.

He looked at the chemise she wore, noting how her breasts had been pressed together. While her waist was made even narrower and her form even more compact from it, her chest was bound with strips of white cloth she must have torn from somewhere. He recalled how he had taken her back to The Isle- watched as Mile Summon had changed her into an operating gown. The surgeon had been cursing as he had untied the bounds hurriedly- the way she had bound herself had increased the pressure on the wound and she was bleeding more quickly because of it. Athrun had not thought much of how she'd bounded her breasts- he had been frantic at that time, desperate as he watched Cagalli bleed.

Now, he looked at her, frowning slightly.

Being bound like this was not a matter of comfort- she had grown into this cast, this kind of containment since her physical maturing, and she had come to rely on this suppression as her defence, a denial of her womanhood and sensuality.

He gazed at the mirror's reflection of her chest, noting how she was leaning against him unconsciously, weak with the slight suffocation. It was the first time he was seeing how uncomfortable her binds were.

Slowly, he moved his hand across the cloth of her binds, finding knot that sat between her breasts. He undid it deftly, looking at her, daring her to refuse him. But she could not. He would not allow her to, and she knew she would not refuse him either.

She breathed in suddenly, feeling the cloth expand and sag as he unwound the strips, letting those flutter to the floor like thin bandages.

His eyes were focused on hers in the mirror, not on her body.

And this disconcerted her even more than if he had been staring at her bare chest and the thin red line that ran down its centre, an imperceptible wound of that bullet she had fired into herself, but a wound she still felt.

She closed her eyes, unwilling to watch any more.

But her body woke to his touch.

And his fingers ran like water, moving over her mouth first, then smooth and flowing, down her neck, over her collarbone. She could not help it eventually- she opened her eyes and found him waiting, watching her still.

Something in his face had changed again. It was no longer impassive and calm, it was filled with a fury and pain that made her shiver, although she could not move with how he was holding her.

"Did you think," He whispered. "That trading half your body for information would be so simple? Did you think it would be enough for me?"

She began to struggle, against him, misunderstanding him, thinking that he would enter her and he would realize that she was worth little to a man such as himself. Her nakedness suddenly more apparent than ever to her, her face ashen-white. "Don't- I don't want to-,"

"You misunderstand me." He answered simply, watching her as she struggled. He was not looking at the representation of Cagalli in the mirror, but the physical form he had captured in his hands now.

"But then," He said ruefully, "Haven't you always?"

He laughed suddenly, and it was a terrible laugh, filled with anguish and bitterness. "You're letting me touch you only because you think that this is purely for my physical gratification."

She looked at his face in the mirror and felt something break in her.

"No matter," He whispered. His eyes were filled with pain. "I'll have something of you still, even if I can't have your heart. And you'll give me what you promised, as you said you would."

Cagalli was mesmerized by his eyes- how emerald they were, how they were ringed with a black rage and lust.

"I'll show you what it's like to be touched by a man who wants you and not the power you represent." He said softly, his voice hoarse with need and hunger. She shivered, still locked in his arms. "He may have taught you to be the Orb Princess to her husband, but I'll teach you to be a woman to me."

Keeping one hand on her waist still, he ran his right hand to a white, silken breast, grabbing it and squeezing it hard. And she cried out with shock and pleasure as he ran his index and thumb up to meet at a tender, sensitive nipple, the pad of his thumb and his index compressing, clamping, teasing her roughly. She moaned and he softened his touch immediately, not wanting to hurt her.

He experienced a jolt of pleasure within himself- the breast he held was full and pleasingly soft, trembling with sensation. As he raked his finger across her hardening, rose-pink nipple, he grinded his body against her back and simultaneously pressed her body to his chest, feeling his hardness strain against his pants and towards her soft body and against her rear.

He cradled her against him this way, one hand keeping her there, the other touching her breast, his eyes watching them in the mirror.

She keened against him, swaying slightly, purring, close to him now even without him pressing her close.

The reflection showed how heavily she was leaning against him, how she had reached up, bringing an arm around his neck. Her hand was twining itself in his hair, one of his hands on her waist, the other cupping her breast. From the way he held her against him, her body pressed against his, she could feel him growing very hard, and she blushed, understanding the effect she had on him.

She looked at the mirror, not really seeing, but watching. Was that really her? Who was that woman he held, the woman who moaned his name as he stroked and played with her breasts, his face buried near her shoulder as he bit into her? Who was that in the mirror, with her mouth and body was trembling so clearly, without any effort to hide the sensations she felt?

She had been peeled away from everything she had known- the defences of her office, her house, Aaron, her government, her obligations to be the Orb Princess at all times, even her self-defences. The woman he cradled in his arms was already his in some immutable, unchangeable way- and she saw that she had become his.

It sobered her in that split moment, and Cagalli was terrified. She saw in the mirror that he was fully-dressed, whereas she wore only her panties. And she saw that he had no trace of emotion, whereas pleasure had been clear on her face. He was in control over both of them, but she had lost her control.

She was afraid and ashamed of how she was responding to his touch and how she'd allowed him to make her feel so vulnerable both physically and emotionally.

And she pushed him away and dropped to her knees, kneeling and stooping over, before the base of the full-length mirror now, covering her chest in shame. She bent into a foetal shape, panting with humiliation but the undeniable rush of adrenaline coursing through her blood.

He said nothing, only watched from where he stood, as still as a statue.

In the mirror, she saw that his eyes had nothing left of humaneness, and that the warmth of his eyes had long become shards of glass.

His reflection loomed over her, and she watched in silent apprehension as he began to undo his shirt from where he stood behind her.

Her breaths were loud and rasping in the room, as if she had run a long distance.

He removed only his shirt and nothing else, folding it neatly, almost mechanically and setting it aside. It shamed her even though she did not know why, to see that her dress was a crushed pool of colour, but his shirt was a neat little white envelope of cloth.

Then Athrun was kneeling down to her, blocking their wretched reflections only partially from her eyes. For their side profiles were still reflected by that mirror, and she huddled into an even tighter ball, as she had as a child, in the dark, afraid of the monsters beyond her bedroom door.

His hands found their way into her hair and he smoothed it, freeing it of its binds as he had her chest, combing it out with his fingers, looking at the gold that slipped through his hands. It spilled over her shoulders, fine and light-coloured.

Cagalli was his. He ran his hands through her long hair, like the king appraising the worth of Rumplestiltskin's woven gold. She had given herself to someone else. But he wanted her still. It made no difference who she had been with as long as she agreed to be with him.

For Cagalli, she couldn't help thinking of the time when she had lost her speech, how he had sat with her every day, talking to her even when she couldn't respond, how he'd been so gentle. Would he be the same now?

But Athrun ceased to comb her hair with his fingers. He had been long weary of treating her as he would a child. He did not want a child, a pure, immaculate goddess to worship and to adore, unlike Orb. He wanted a woman. He wanted her.

Now, he braided her hair roughly, gathering it with a clenched fist then twisting her hair, winding it around his fist. She cried out at the sudden action, afraid and sensing that the action had a rage in it that was almost cruel.

And he deposited it over her shoulder, pressing his lips thirstily to a creamy, white shoulder, groping for her breasts. She covered her chest as best as she could with her hands, pushing his hands away, gasping as she struggled, her expression filled with misery.

Even though she did not want to admit it, there were tears pooling in her eyes. So she kept chin tilted and defiant, although it took a great deal of will. He saw humiliation in her eyes, but there was a pride that she could not let go of. Despite his unwillingness to be as emotionally vulnerable in the same way that she was physically vulnerable, Athrun knew then, that he felt a great deal for her.

She had pushed his hands away, and he had let them fall by his sides. But now, he brought one to her cheek and stroked it.

"Don't be afraid of me." He said quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you. You promised me half of your body, and I'll take it. But no more than that. I keep to my word."

Cagalli felt his hand moving down her shoulder, to her elbow, up her forearm which was pressed desperately to shield her chest. "Why don't you just take what you want and let me go back to Orb?"

Her face was white and she stared at the sole garment he'd allowed her to keep on, the cloth covering her last shred of dignity.

"Because I want you by my side." Athrun replied stoically. "So I won't take you fully because I'd have to let you go after that. So I won't."

She looked at him reluctantly. But he mistook her silence for unwillingness.

"Do you want to keep to your promise?" He said tonelessly. "If you don't, we'll call this deal off."

She thought of the room, how any woman might have been allowed in here, how he might have spent his nights with women who could at least be of some value to him. If she lost her nerve now-

"No!" Her voice shook and rang in the stagnant air. "I want this!"

He stroked her bottom lip with the tip of his finger, watching it tremble in her fear. "Then let me have what you promised me."

She felt his hands move hers away, pulling her forearms straight so they no longer covered her. Cagalli resisted, panicking. But then she stopped when she looked into his eyes. There was no hard cruelty there, and the flintiness and hollow emerald had become sadness. There was a dignity and something of a plea in those eyes.

For him to touch her, he had to cast off all feelings for her. For her to let him touch her, she had to relinquish her own feelings for him. Otherwise, they could not be like this.

She stared at his eyes in the mirror, not sure of herself or him any longer, and found herself suddenly looking at him as he shifted her head to face his. From then on, she was unable to see the reflections of both of them. She lost the ability to look at them both and judge them as a third part would.

She saw only him, and anything that she saw of herself was the person reflected in his eyes. And from then on, she did not know if what they were doing was right or wrong, only that he made her feel what she had never before.

For Athrun made her lie on her back, pushing her hair back so that it lay like a golden fan around her head, where it could not cover her chest. And he was pressing her down against the fur carpet very gently, and his weight moved above hers, raising himself to look directly at her. It felt comforting actually, this softness against her back, and how the weight of his lower body was grounding hers.

She bit her lips, unsure of what to do, but found that his mouth was crushing hers, demanding and begging. His tongue slipped between her teeth, lightly, exploring the crevices of her mouth, and she found that she could not deny them both.

So she found herself responding, kissing him back with a passion that surprised her. She pulled him down to her, his bare chest against hers, feeling his heart beat a rhythm different from hers. The material of his pants created a maddening sensation as it scrapped across her waist, highs and feet.

He kissed her hungrily, so eagerly that he was sure that he was bruising her lips. But she was responding to him, moaning a little, her hands pressing into his back like claws, and he knew that he loved her desperately.

He knew it was dangerous. She had convinced him that having half her body was worth letting her have the information. A day would come when she would offer him all of her if he would let her go back to Orb. And he wasn't sure he would be able to resist that offer, even if he had this time.

But for now, Athrun thought desperately, surely just a little of this wouldn't hurt? He'd stop taking if she wanted to return to Orb in exchange for what she was giving. But for now, all he wanted was to watch her breathe and fall asleep by his side. Surely, there wasn't anything dangerous or wrong about that?

When he was sure that she was used to his presence, he shifted over. He laid on his side, watching her breathe, thinking of how beautiful she was, how utterly perfect and lovely she was.

Those breasts had been bound every day, hidden them under coarse, rough material. She'd been ashamed of them, ashamed of the fact that she was a woman; ashamed that she was human and fallible, perhaps even more fallible as a woman.

"Look at you," He murmured, shifting down so that his head level was near her collar bone. He ran a hand over the side of her chest. "Do you know how lovely you are?"

She looked at him mutely, trembling. How could she tell him that she hated any sign of her womanhood? As she had grown, it was clear that many considered her as little more than another girl to be used as a pawn in the politics of the royal families. She had always known that people saw women as weak and beautiful women as mere ornaments. Even when she had been twelve, there had already been people looking at her, admiring her. She hated it. Cagalli knew that many, even the servants she barely knew, saw her as a child and nothing more than that.

Because she was a girl, she would never lead. Because she was a girl, she would be worth little more than a kind of social butterfly, a trophy wife to further a man's political career and image.

She had grown up this way; she had hated her face, her body. Cagalli hated the fact that she was female and that she would never be quite as equal to a man, to Yuna, and certainly not to her father.

Now, Athrun, like so many she had met before, was telling her that she was beautiful. The difference was that her heat had beat a tattoo against her, for unlike what she had felt with the others, she wanted him to mean it.

At the same time, the insecurity he could see in her eyes made Athrun realise that Cagalli had hidden her breasts, the clearest sign of feminity, to enter the men's world of politics and become an equal if not a superior to them.

As a woman, the world would view her with the failings associated with the weaker gender. But as a woman without any overt feminity, as a woman who was far removed from the earthiness of others, Cagalli had been elevated on a goddess' pedestal. She was a woman yes, but she was immune to men and she existed only for Orb's interests.

This was the way Cagalli had survived in that world of hers.

But surely, he thought, she must have known that there would come a day when her womanhood was inevitable and she could not hide what she was.

He stared at her, watching her look at him shyly, a blush beneath her cheeks. This was the day.

Athrun had no need for the Orb Princess, that pristine, glorious image of correctness and inaccessibility. He only had need for Cagalli, a Cagalli who would be a woman to him, a woman that he loved and a woman that loved in him return, a Cagalli who would be his woman. The thought of another man already having taken her made his innards burn with hatred and jealousy.

He was filled with a heat and longing, an insane need to possess her even though he could not. Someone already had- and she did not allow him to either.

In a frenzy of lust, he began to stroke her white breasts with his fingertips. He touched her with feather-light finger tips, stroking the sides of her breasts, their roundness, but not touching her nipples at all. If he touched the most sensitive points now, she would panic, and he did not want that.

She looked at him, not resisting, but not really responding.

But he was patient. Even as he stroked her, avoiding the most sensitive areas. She was comely, golden with a light sprinkling of the sun, fading as his eyes traveled to her shoulders and breasts, becoming all white and milky with breasts that had been locked under her suits, bound, soft like flower petals, never having seen the sun.

Her lips had parted to reveal the pink tongue behind them, and he knew that her body was aching for him to touch her.

She wondered how he had touched other women- surely, they had been more beautiful than her, surely, they had deserved this more than her. Despite her fear and the guilt of using him, she knew that she wanted him to touch her, to give her what she could have as a woman for once.

He took both throbbing, rose-coloured nipples between his thumbs and indexes and squeezed those, making her gasp. Was this what it felt like, she thought dazedly, to be touched by a man this way, this rush of adrenaline and tangy, tingling sensation that electrified all of her to the tips of her fingers? He was not being as gentle as much as teasing, more demanding now, and she found that she enjoyed his attentions even more.

While he squeezed both her nipples simultaneously, she bucked, as if he had pulled her towards him by tugging a string attached to the area between her legs. A moan tore its way out of her, and she gasped.

"Athrun," She pleaded embarrassedly, "Those are sensitive!"

He only squeezed harder, causing new spikes of sensation to shoot into her whole body. He teased her harder, wantonly even, smiling a soft, sensuous smile that sent thrills of excitement down her spine and a tug of need to the apex of her thighs. "I know."

She leaned back, writhing in gratification and struggling, though not against him. Her cries were building and he groaned suddenly, a hoarse, desperate sound, squeezing her vigorously with both hands, jamming her breasts together, forcing her nipples to meet and rub against each other. He watched her, feeling himself grow dangerously aroused- he would have to make sure that he did not lose control.

The sensation was maddeningly good- she cried out and parted her thighs, wrapping those around his waist, unconscious of what she was doing.

He understood immediately, however. She keened, straining against him, and he smirked, knowing that she was past pretending to be immune to her own desire for him.

"Athrun," She said, panting. Shyly, she averted her eyes from his hands, not daring to order him to please her, not daring to ask that she be pleased by someone like him.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes, waiting for a prompt.

"Show me," He said simply.

Without understanding how she knew what she wanted him to do to, how she knew to address the heat building in her, she guided his head to her chest, stroking his cheek, watching him smirk. She blushed slightly, unable to say anything, but then he spared her and began to press his lips to her. And she gasped with pleasure as he ran his lips across a warm, throbbing nipple, then with the tip of his cool, wet tongue. Before she realised it, he had brought a nipple between his lips and teeth, his tongue swirling around it as his mouth latched onto her and applied a suction that made her cry out in her fever.

His other hand caressed the unoccupied nipple now, and the combination of the gentle teasing of his hand on one breast and his demanding, rough mouth on the other made her pant in earnest, her body subjected to two different sensations.

She writhed, shaking and bucking, panting his name, and he suckled greedily, enjoying how she was writhing under him. She was wonderful, scented with honey and apricot, and he was sure that the milky texture of her flesh was testimony to what he tasted. Her animal cries aroused him, her body entwining his as it strained towards his above hers, her voice husky as she cried his name in her heat.

Athrun could scarcely think as he touched her, tasting her and playing with her while she lay below him, her body splayed on the velvet and fur carpet. Her body was soft and small, but her breasts were surprisingly so much fuller and so much more sensitive than what he had expected or seen of any woman. He was filled with awe by how she was responding to him, cuddling him and accepting his touch.

He smothered himself with her generous breasts while he took turns to address each one, devastated by them, by how wonderful they felt, bare and crushed against him. Her nipples were not soft rosebuds now, but pebbles of pink hard-boiled candy crowning soft, creamy peaks, throbbing and irresistable. He moaned while he touched her, losing his own control.

He couldn't resist biting her in his eagerness, although he took care not to hurt her. And he lost himself to her cries, biting and caressing each nipple in turn. She was incredible, just as he had imagined when she had agreed to let him touch her.

When he had finished with her, he saw how flushed with colour her lips and cheeks were, how her nipples appeared like ripe, swollen raspberries, throbbing and wet from his suckling. Any more could cause pain- she was so sensitive, he had to be careful.

She was still moaning in the throes of her pleasure, quietly now, and her eyes were shut still.

Then her eyes began to flutter open, and he stared straight into them, looking at the golden, almost molten texture. She was still trembling with sensation, and he knew that she had lost her initial fear of him and gained pleasure instead.

Cagalli was not any other woman- she was the only woman that he loved. He had agreed to not love her, and if he tried to take things to far, she would be frightened and he would lose her.

He grabbed her chin, lifting it to his eyes while his free hand slid to her collarbone, tapping a finger on it. Then, still holding her chin so she had to look at him, he slid his other hand lower to her breast. She jolted, startled and electrified.

He looked at her triumphantly, and she blushed, covering her breasts with her hands. But he struck them down, saying curtly, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He looked at her again and felt another rush of blood to his loins- his pants felt unbearable against him, and he bit back a groan of utter suffering. He had shown her how he could make her want his touch- that was enough for now. The rest would fall in place.

Athrun had made his own plans as well. Cagalli thought she had the upper hand, but he would prove her wrong. Each time he touched her, he thought now, it would be by her own permission. And each time he touched her, he would show her that it was not a matter of physical pleasure but she had an emotional bond to him. And one day, Athrun planned, she would give herself to him without wanting anything in return. He would not force her into giving herself. And one day, he thought wistfully, she would realize that she had only been fooling herself.

But in the meantime-

He spoke, his voice soft now and commanding. "From now on, don't bind your breasts when you come here. Nothing above your waist either."

She stared at him, not understanding.

"I don't want you to deny what your are," He said quietly. "You've agreed to be my woman, and that's what you'll be to me."

She hesitated, then nodded.

She was already learning wasn't she? He thought of how she had responded to his touch. Although it was only the act of touching her breasts, she was already becoming aware of her sexuality and how she could please him. He would teach her how she could be a woman to him, a little by little, then until she was completely his. It didn't matter that Marlin had already taken her. Athrun didn't care- it didn't change what he felt for her.

He decided then that no other man would have her here on The Isle, that no man would enter her mind except him from now on. She had pledged herself to him.

He had planned to send her to Sheba's stronghold, to hide her away from all his enemies and even himself. But now, after agreeing to what she had suggested, after finding out what it meant to have her like this, he doubted her would be capable of sending her away. He wanted to hold her, to have her fall asleep by his side like this.

It was impossible to send her away now.

He pulled her to her feet and led her into his bed, drawing the curtains of the four poster. She was stiff now, awkward and unable to look at him in the eye. But it didn't matter- he would make her his, little by little, slowly and surely.

She laid next to him, her arms around him in what seemed like a hesitant manner, his mouth kissing hers and her neck to seal her to him.

His voice was a murmur. "I'm not going to send you away."

Cagalli felt her heart beat a little faster. "What?"

He repeated himself, a bit impatiently, and she knew she had succeded wit hthe first step. As long as he did not send her away to someone else, she would be able to convince him to trade his information, and she would be familiar with this place and know how to escape.

She felt him sigh quietly, and she heard him say softly, "Neither of us can afford to play another game like this."

Cagalli looked at him quietly, not saying anything. If he knew that tonight had been the first step in a plan that would get her back to Orb, would he have held her so tenderly like this?

Through the night, she held him, learning what it meant to be next to a breathing person, watching him sleep. But despite the tugging of her heart, there was a cold determination that had begun to root itself in her will. She would play this game. It was the only way to survive with him, to survive with herself, to leave him and The Isle and return to Orb.

For now though, she would sleep by his side, absorbing his warmth, feeding him with her own, learning what it meant to be loved by a man like him.

But throughout the night, she repeated to herself, silently; even while she fell asleep, that she would not love him back.

---

3 months. 28 days.