Heavy Lies The Crown: Chapter Three
by Starrify
There's a madness, a madness of the heart,
but you knew it, you knew it from the start.
Cagalli fluttered her eyes open to the small sparks bursting away from the small pieces of wood. It seemed that the bonfire that guy started earlier was dying, and there was little to do about it. She was leaning on a tree stump, with a pile of leaves underneath her as cushioning. How she got into that position, she didn't know—and at this late a time, her mind was too groggy to care.
A small breeze passed, and Cagalli realized that her cloak had fallen down to her waist, so she tried to reach for it, but then she realized that there was a tepid hold on her left wrist. She looked to her left, almost afraid to find a skeleton or something equally macabre, but it was only that guy. The prince, she tried to remind herself, but her anger was still getting the better of her.
She just happened to hate him so much for what he had done for her this day.
In the faint light, she could still make out his features. No doubt he was handsome—she chuckled as she recalled her nickname for him: pretty boy. It was only apt, after all. His midnight blue hair blended in with the rest of the night, yet she still could tell where it was. It seemed to have a certain shine that the shadows couldn't imitate. It was persistently long, and it irked her somehow. She couldn't deny it appealed to her, the thought of reaching out to it and feeling it under her own fingers.
Such an angular face—it's like he's some statue, so perfectly sculpted…
She forcefully slammed her right hand down after it threatened to touch the prince's cheekbones. Her eyes widened.What the hell do you think you're doing, Cagalli? He's a prince! she inwardly berated herself, not denying the heat on her cheeks caused by her actions. But what did that have to do with anything; she tried to reason with herself. She was, after all, a princess.
In exile, she had to remind herself. The feeling brought by the negligence of her own people toward her came back and she felt the familiar melancholy she's experienced many times before.
Except, not alone… She was still looking at the guy. His eyes were shut, so she couldn't see those green eyes which mesmerized her while she was drowning. She was not ashamed to admit that she found his face to be very attractive, but there was still something about him she couldn't shake off. It was her suspicion that he would, at any time, somehow betray the small trust she gave him.
Cagalli frowned at her own admission. She trusted him—regardless of how minute that may be, she trusted him. Lack of this kind of intimacy with anyone for five years…it was no surprise that she had to be so defensive.
She didn't remember if she promised him anything during the evening. Did she tell him she'd bring him back to Plants? She really couldn't remember most of their conversation. In her mind was only a grainy memory of her calling for Kusanagi and then collapsing.
"You're quite troublesome, did you know that?"
"I—I'll lead you back to Plants."
"You will?" She could remember how his eyebrows had risen up in surprise, as if he couldn't accept such an offer from her. "That's nice, but really, you don't have to—"
"I will! Let me do that, please. I—I was going to die, but you saved me—you could've died, too, so I—"
She was adamant, she could tell as the memory played itself in her mind. Damn it, she cursed. She could leave now, make her escape to her little tree back at the heart of the forest with Kusanagi—where was that horse anyway?
Cagalli temporarily diverted her eyes from that guy to search for her horse. She found him lying down a few meters away, on a small bed of grass and weed. He was resting—a much deserved rest after he chased her at the same pace of the river current. They weren't too far away from the body of water that threatened to crush her, but it was much stiller this time at night.
Everyone else seems to be at peace here—the trees, the water, the animals, even this guy. Cagalli couldn't help but envy how they were oblivious to her struggle.
I could run away now. Leave him be so that I'm no longer responsible for him. Kusanagi would find his way back like he always did. If the prince doesn't get to Plants, there's no doubt that his people would search for him. They may find him all hungry and bruised, but at least he'd be safe under their care. No one else probably knew the harshness of the forest like she did—someone as pampered as he showed himself to be wouldn't survive out here for so long.
And as Cagalli herself questioned her own sanity, she wasn't entirely sure if he'd survive her own hands.
She faced him again, and her eyes softened at the sleeping prince. He looked too tranquil to be disturbed. Her heart ached when she pried off the fingers wrapping around her wrist. His hand was so large compared to hers and the pads of his fingers were callused, probably from the years of training whatever weapons he was versed in.
She looked at her own. Then again, hers weren't as smooth and soft as they were when she was younger.
The flames crackled once, twice, bringing her out of her short reverie. The same breeze made its way back to her and she shivered under its cool touch. The light was getting fainter and fainter, and she was afraid that soon she'll be immovable once the darkness completely engulfs her. She could only think of two things to do: run away before his guards could come to get her or kill him now before he kills her.
At the moment, Cagalli didn't have the heart to be so cynical. Really, must it always have to go this way?
Cagalli knew he kept a small dagger somewhere—where, she didn't know. Kisaka used to keep his in a holster near his left boot, but she didn't know if the prince had his there, too. And even if he did, she didn't think she'd be able to retrieve it without rousing him. The only weapon she was sure she had on him was a sword which was in its sheath on his left.
With her cloak wrapped around her, she stealthily attempted to reach for the hilt of his sword. If she were to make a move so quickly, the leaves under her would surely rustle and wake him up—which was the least thing she wanted right now.
He was snoring ever so softly, and Cagalli could not hide the small affection held in her eyes as she tilted her face to check if he was awake. Again, she shook her head, reprimanding herself. This isn't the time to be thinking about how silly he looks, damn it.
And suddenly, Cagalli realized the flaw in her plan: even if she was able to reach the hilt of his sword, she wouldn't be able to extend her arm enough to completely draw it out. She cautiously shifted her position such that she was kneeling. With one limb hovering just over his stomach, Cagalli found herself multitasking balancing on one knee, unsheathing his sword, and praying to Haumea that he wouldn't wake up.
She had drawn out almost half of his sword when he started to stir. The fire crackled again and Athrun, feeling something was wrong, opened his eyes. He found himself staring at the blonde who was partially straddled on him. Amber eyes met his in surprise.
"What are you doing?" he half-said, half-yawned.
"I…" Cagalli found herself at a loss for words. He just had to open his eyes, and it was like she lost her impetus to kill him as well. "I…"
"You—?" Athrun tried to follow, squinting his eyes to trace the outline of her body. Funny, he thought, she didn't look this small a while ago… He was looking at her eyes, those which seemed to belong with the rest of the stars above them, and then traced down to her small, pointed nose, and then to open lips struggling to find something to say.
"Hey," he continued, almost stifling a chuckle at her mortified expression. "What's wrong—" he stopped when he saw her outstretched arm, the one holding his side—or specifically, the hilt of his already half-exposed sword.
Not wanting to hear anything more from him, she quickly took his sword out and pushed him back by kicking his stomach. Athrun groaned slightly at the force of the impact and clutched the part she had just hit. He was sitting upright and his back was leaning closer to the tree stump with the rough edges scratching at the fine fabric of his top.
Cagalli outstretched her arm such that the sword she was holding was pointed at his throat. There was a dangerous spark in her eyes, but it wasn't the ferocity she displayed when Athtun first saw her—it contained something more, mixed with just enough disillusionment. He eyed her cautiously, not wanting to agitate her further.
This girl, Athrun thought, had serious issues —and that was already putting it nicely.
"So you have me here," Athrun started, avoiding a yawn passing through his lips. "What exactly are you going to do?"
"I…don't have…any intention…to kill you," Cagalli rambled, her breath hitching between every word spoken. "But you…you're going to…kill me."
"Then go and stab me," Athrun replied calmly albeit the cool metal shaking in front of his throat. He winced and continued, "I promise I won't hurt you—"
"You can't promise me—"
"If I had any plans to do that, then I wouldn't have—"
"Saved me? People do that all the time and when you think—"
"Not everyone has an ulterior motive—"
"You never know! Besides, I don't know you—"
"And you don't believe in strangers—"
"It's not that, damn it!" Cagalli swore, her hold on his sword tightening. "You're the prince of your nation; you were raised to be—" she paused to think of how she herself grew up to be. She knew she had no right to throw comparisons like that around, not when they grew up in different worlds.
"To be?" Athrun questioned. "What exactly would you know about my upbringing when you live here in the forest?"
"Don't interrupt me while I'm speaking!" she bellowed, stomping her feet on the ground. "You are in no position to tell me what to do!"
They spent the next few minutes trying to catch their breath, Cagalli never once lowering her stolen weapon. Athrun attempted to open his mouth to speak, but his words were all tangled in his mind, as if it knew that nothing he said could change her mind.
He opened his mouth to try again, but she beat him to breaking the silence first.
"I'm sure you have someone who's waiting for you to come home."
"And so do you. Wherever your home is," he answered. "You and I are no different."
She lowered her head, her fringes covering her eyes. What he said took her aback—was there really someone waiting for her? Yes, there was. A whole kingdom was waiting for her.
"You have to understand why I don't want to hurt you."
"I…I don't."
"Listen to me," Athrun commanded gently. "Hey, I won't hurt you—I've told you that again and again. I just…want to help you. It's so weird; I don't know you, but I have this strong urge to just...let me help you." His voice was almost pleading.
"You…I…" Cagalli was struggling to find something to reply to him. His sincerity reached her ears, and she desperately wanted to believe him, believe someone again for the first time. "You're lying—"
"I'm not. What do you want me to do to prove to you that I'm telling the truth?" When she didn't reply, he tried again, "I'll protect you."
"With what?" Her voice was shaking, showing her own fear. "I have your sword! I'm your only way out of this forest!You are at my mercy! How could you possibly do that to me when you've nothing on you?"
He didn't bother to answer. Athrun closed his eyes, preparing himself for whatever her next move may be. He didn't know what he was thinking when he asked her that, but then again, they were no different from each other. He heard her step back, perhaps to ready her swing towards his neck. He wasn't aware of how long he has been holding his breath for, but the hit he expected never came.
He opened his eyes to find only darkness. The fire he started was completely out, and the moon didn't bother to come out to witness such a tragedy. He couldn't see the girl, but he still felt her presence somewhere near him. He would've called out for her had it not been for the sound of his sword clanking on rocks and the crunching of leaves under someone else's fallen weight.
"I…I'm sorry," he heard her finally croak. "I didn't know what I was thinking."
"It's fine," he replied, massaging his strained neck.
"No, it's not."
And they both knew she was telling the truth.
"Has my son kept you waiting long, Lacus?"
Lacus put down her teacup on its matching saucer. She idly glanced at the rose pattern intricately printed onto the cup, praising the talent of whoever made it. And given that she was currently in the household of the Joules, one of the most powerful noble families in the Plant kingdom, she was sure that they did not waste any money looking for the best possible teaware there was.
"No, not really, Lady Joule," she responded, smiling gracefully at the matriarch entering the parlor through grand oak doors. "I'm very much willing to wait as I was the one to impose so early in the morning."
Ezalia pursed her lips as she took a seat on the futon in front of Lacus. She was loosely wearing a dressing gown over a white peignoir—both articles of clothing definitely expensive to suit the taste of the refined white-haired woman. "No, no, Lacus, my dear, you know you are always welcome here. Besides, the sun will be up in a while now."
Lacus smiled politely. "Yet my arrival need not have awoken you as it is your son I am after today."
"Always the perfect princess your father raised you to be," Ezalia commented, taking a biscuit from the silver tray and carefully plopping it into her mouth. "I often find myself wishing Yzak had found a better prospect for a wife."
"Is there something wrong with Shiho, Lady Joule?"
"Heavens no! She's a very lovely woman and I have no doubt in her capabilities in managing the estate in the future," Ezalia said with a haughty yet agile laugh. "She's well-bred. It's no surprise since she came from the house of Hahnenfuss."
Then, she sighed, "I still can't convince her to act more like a lady. She refuses to wear dresses in public and insists on spending her time training in that pigsty with Yzak and Dearka!"
Lacus giggled. "Perhaps that's why Yzak is very much taken with her. He likes the break from his norm, from all the class and expectations of nobles."
"Are you insulting how I brought up my dear Yzak, Lacus?"
"I'm merely saying that Shiho's pragmatic personality intrigues him so." Lacus picked up her teacup and took another sip. "And, Lady Joule, aren't you happy that he has finally shown interest in the opposite gender?"
"What is that supposed to mean!" A voice boomed from the doorway, an indignant stomp on the floor resounding in the room. "Mother! Lacus! How dare you!"
Both ladies turned their heads to the direction of the voice. They found Yzak standing stiffly in plain trousers—tailor-made, yet crumpled from sleep. He was frowning; his blue eyes were wide open with their usual ire.
"Yzak," Ezalia smirked. "Is there such a need for your booming this early in the morning? It's barely dawn."
"And tell me, Mother, is there a need for discussing my sexuality at this time, too?" he answered defensively, crossing his arms in front of him. "Lacus, I can't believe you're in this!"
Lacus settled her teacup back down. "Yzak, please calm down. Your mother and I were just talking about Shiho. How is she?"
"She's fine," he grumbled, muttering a few more things under his breath.
"Is she still in October then? Or is she back here in Aprilius?"
"She's staying in October for another week. It said so in the message she sent. She's still in that damned giant library—"
"Yzak Joule, watch your language."
"Sorry, Mother," Yzak gritted through his teeth. He took a step forward and took a seat beside his mother, his posture stiff and his face showing nothing but his annoyance. "Now, Lacus, I believe you requested for me?"
"Ah, yes," Lacus started, still smiling. "Yzak, I wanted to ask a favor of you. To be precise, Athrun asked me to ask you for a favor: to fetch him. Of course, this favor is rather circumstantial—"
"Do I look like a damn chauffeur to Zala?"
"Yzak!" Ezalia scolded again.
Ignoring the protest of his own mother, Yzak continued, "What does he want me to do this time?"
"You see, when we were going back to Aprilius from Copernicus through the common trade route, we were kind of ambushed—"
"Kind of?"
"The person only took Athrun's pouch. It had—"
"His mother's ring?"
"Yzak, stop interrupting Lacus."
"Mother, now is not the time."
Lacus could only laugh bemusedly at the mother and son pair. They have always been close and it was not rare for them to argue like this in front of a guess. She coughed lightly and continued, "Yes. I don't think that person was part of a group. And Athrun, being himself, chased after the thief on his own."
"That fool!" Yzak shouted indignantly, pounding his fist on the table. The porcelain cups rattled and tea spilled over Ezalia's cup. "The forest is dangerous! Who knows what could be in there—"
"Oh, Yzak, please tell me you don't believe in those petty ghost stories!"
"Mother, not now!"
"Athrun originally wanted for you and the others to come after him in three days' time, however, as I am off to Junius to join the celebration of their harvest festival, I would not be able to make this request by then," Lacus finished explaining, grimacing at the glare Ezalia was giving Yzak.
"Does His Excellency know of his whereabouts?" Yzak inquired, not daring to face his mother.
"I am not sure," Lacus answered uneasily. "I had hoped that the escorts with us would not tell the king of what his son has done."
"I doubt Patrick's unaware of where his son is now," Ezalia supplied for Lacus. "He had a messenger summon Athrun during one of the Supreme Council meetings; he had forgotten that Athrun escorted Lacus to the Alliance."
Lacus winced. "It's undeniable that the King is very busy handling the affairs of the kingdom."
"He can take care of a whole kingdom, but he neglects his own son?" Yzak scoffed. "What a pathetic excuse for a father."
"Yzak, may I remind you that speaking of the king in the manner that you just did is punishable by law. And here, you're in the presence of a member of the Supreme Council," Ezalia reprimanded sternly.
"I was making a comment on his paternal capabilities, not on his kingship," Yzak said, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, Lacus, when am I to head out?"
"If he is not back in the castle by tomorrow, then you shall go. You may ask Martin DaCosta to guide you to where we got separated," Lacus paused to take a deep breath. "I feel guilty for letting Athrun go like that."
"Well, you know how he is," Yzak offered with a grimace. "If anything, Zala's persistent. He'll go through everything just to get what he wants done. Imagine all the paper work he faces every other day because he wants to."
"It's because Athrun wants to help his kingdom in that way. He switches from his duties to Zaft and to the rest of Plant every day—imagine the stress that poor boy undergoes. Working in an office stacked with papers and then having to train all those soldiers! I bet you can't pull that off, Yzak," Ezalia taunted with a challenging smirk.
"He's just as duty-oriented as I am, Mother. It's just that his rank is higher, so he has more on his plate than his stomach can handle—"
"Oh, speaking of his stomach, I heard from Dearka that he has quite the body! Oh, Lacus, dear, how lucky of you to be engaged to a man like him—"
"Mother!"
Cagalli blushed, diverting her attention to the oh-so fascinating small rock right beside her left foot. With a grimace on her lips, she picked the rock up and threw it at the midnight blue-haired prince.
"Hey! I thought you wanted this," Athrun cried, crossing his arms in front of him. "Princess, don't tell me you're backing out now."
"Don't call me that!" Cagalli barked back, annoyed. For a second, she had thought he had seriously seen through her and recognized her somehow, but then his condescending tone gave her a hint that he was blatantly calling her such to mock her. "And I am not backing out! It's just that I…I…I hate you, damn it!"
Athrun smirked. "Then why don't you face me? You're the one who asked me to take off my shirt."
At the mention of her earlier demand, Cagalli ducked down again to cover the red tint of her face. She could not believe the nerve of this guy! And here I thought we were making progress, she told herself, now I'm just making a big show of him being naked—half-naked. Still, he's undressed!
When they woke up that morning, this time quite a distance from each other, they established a truce—it was filled with mostly her apologizing for what she did to him and him trying to convince her that he wasn't going to do anything to her. She was on the brink of tears yet again when he decided to go up and give her the most awkward hug she had ever received.
It was safe to say that Kusanagi was not amused.
They had been trekking for two hours when Cagalli called for a break. She sat under the shade of a giant tree and as Athrun was walking to sit beside her, she saw that there was a portion on the side of his red coat uniform which was a shade darker than the rest.
She jumped up from her comfortable position and squealed as she pointed to his side, "Did I do that! Oh, Haumea, I did! No! I'm so sorry! Let me fix it—please, it's the least I can do!"
It was something in those lines, Athrun recollected, except, perhaps, with less enthusiasm and a moderate threat to punch me if I didn't let her seal the wound she immediately took responsibility of.
"How long has it been bleeding? Why didn't you tell me of this, you idiot!" she whined, rummaging through an old knapsack tied to her horse. When she got a hold of a long piece of cloth, she took it out and examined it. "This should do—urgh! Why did you not tell me that you were injured?"
"Because," Athrun explained, trying to not be confused by the concern in her voice and the glare she was giving him. "I didn't want to bother you any more than I have to."
"What are you talking about? I'm the one who owes you!"
"So we keep owing each other—at this rate, it won't get us anywhere," he calculated for her, giving a loud laugh. "What exactly are we going to do about this?"
"Take off your shirt," Cagalli said quickly, still glaring at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't make me repeat myself!" she growled, almost throwing the long piece of cloth at him. "Now do as I say or else I'll leave you to bleed to death from your wound."
What an ultimatum, Athrun thought, looking amusedly at the infuriated blonde. The confident grin on his face faltered when she turned around and trudged away from him. With her golden hair swinging behind her and her shoulders hunched in a way Mana would definitely reprimand her for, Cagalli walked towards a different tree, putting a good distance between her and the boy riling her up.
Athrun snickered and took this opportunity to further test her patience with him. After unfastening the last of his buttons and throwing his coat over one shoulder, he examined the wound on his side. It wasn't that deep, but he still could feel some pain coming from it. What he feared most right now was getting an infection from the open cut—leaving him dead and her guilty.
He walked up to her, his gait somewhat limping yet postured properly. "Hey," he called, trying to get her attention. "So are you going to be the one to wrap that thing around me or am I going to do it by myself?"
Hearing the guy's voice, Cagalli's ears perked up. Still seething, she looked up at him and screamed, "No! I won't let you—" and she stopped, her eyes slowly trailing down to see his exposed torso glistening with sweat and the left side of it caked with dried blood.
"—what do you think you're doing?" Cagalli shrieked, more for herself than for him. She looked somewhere else—anywhere, so long as it was away from his body.
"Hey! I thought you wanted this. Princess, don't tell me you're backing out now."
"Don't call me that! And I am not backing out! It's just that I…I…I hate you, damn it!"
"Then why don't you face me? You're the one who asked me to take off my shirt."
And that brought them to where they were currently in. Cagalli was still trying to avoid eye contact with Athrun and he was just entertained over the fact that she was nervous because of a guy's body.
"You're such a prude," he sourly commented, sitting down beside her. He felt a small pain coming from bending his torso like he did, but he brushed it off—he had felt worse, after all. That and he was a soldier taught to tolerate extremes farther than a small cut from a sword. "Come on, did you really expect that someone wouldn't be injured when you unsheathe a sword at close proximity with another person?"
"I wasn't expecting you to wake up!" she answered defensively, still shutting her eyes.
"Just give me the cloth; I'll tie it myself," Athrun sighed, defeated. "If I prolong exposure like this, it'll get worse, wouldn't it? Just give it to me." He kneeled beside her and pulled at the cloth she was firmly grasping in her frail hands. When she wouldn't let go, he tugged even harder with a straight line forming on his lips.
"Give it to me," he demanded, pulling at the cloth.
"No!" she shouted back defiantly, also trying to keep a hand on the cloth. "I won't let you do that!"
"Well, you're not doing it so obviously I have to!"
"If you just put on your damn coat, I would!"
"There'd be no point anymore if I did!"
"Don't shout at me!"
"Then don't close your eyes on me either!"
"That's not a fair comparison!"
"You are unbelievable!" Athrun gave up on arguing with the girl and threw his hands up onto his hair. He let out an exasperated huff of breath before thinking of an approach to this girl. He was usually so calm and reserved, but her energy was too influential and he started to defy his expectations for himself with her. No, Athrun, be proper, he had to remind himself so often. Being away from Plant does not change the fact that you are the crown prince and that you have certain things to uphold.
He closed his eyes, and breathed in and out until he regained his composure. In his third round of deep breathing, he felt warm hands slide down to the side of his stomach and his breath hitched, his eyes flew wide open, and he found himself looking at a blushing blonde sitting in front of him. She stopped and retracted her hands to her lap and looked down.
"Are you sure you want to do this for me?" Athrun tested, blinking his eyes at the bizarre girl.
"Yes," Cagalli replied. "I'm sure. Just…close your eyes, please."
"Why should I?"
"Because I don't like them, that's why!" she whined, wanting to punch his face repeatedly until he had no ability to open his eyes, but he was a prince, and laying a hand on him in such a way was against their law or something as bad as that.
Athrun frowned and did not make any witty retort at her insult. She had basically insulted his mother, who he got his eyes from. He followed her orders and closed his eyes; he didn't need another reminder of who he was.
"Right," Cagalli said uneasily. "Tell me if it's too tight, alright?"`
And not helping himself, he grinned. With a cough, he imitated her voice. "Please be gentle with me—ah! Okay, okay, I'll shut up!"
After an hour and a half of riding on the back of her horse, Athrun felt tired. His injury notwithstanding, he, for some reason, was compelled to just go down and tell her that he wanted to rest, but the girl was adamant on bringing him back to Plant as fast as she humanly could.
His hold on her hip loosened and he said, "Hey. Could we walk from here?"
Cagalli felt his breath tickle his ear and through her panic, she pulled too strongly at Kusanagi's reins. The horse stopped so fast that the guy behind her was also propelled forward, causing him to hang onto her stomach with one arm—whether it was to cushion him if ever he fell or to avoid having her fall, she couldn't tell.
She turned around, her face scarlet. "S-sorry, what did you say?"
He gave her a small smile. "I asked if we could walk from here. That's the castle up there—do you see it?"
Cagalli looked up ahead and saw the castle he was pointing to. It was a dull shade of gray against the palette of orange, red, and purple hues from the sunset. From here, the highest tower seemed to stand more than a hundred feet, and it would've intimidated her had it not been for the fact that the forest still had a more ominous feel.
But still, it was quite admirable, Cagalli praised, looking at the tall structure the Plant royal family lived in. It's probably not as cozy as the one in Orb, but it still looks habitable enough. It was the same castle she remembered touring on a friendly visit to Aprilius City.
She went there when she was around ten. She was with her father to directly offer condolences to the king of Plant for the tragic fire in Junius City, the last attack from the The Alliance before the war ended. A hundred civilians died in their quiet homes—and one of the casualties was the beloved queen—
She blinked, finding a pair of large hands in front her eyes. The guy was waving it, as if to call her attention.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "Or are you spacing out on me again?"
"Sorry," she mumbled. She had not even noticed that he was already standing on the ground. She positioned herself to dismount Kusanagi when she felt his hands slip to her waist and lift her up and carry her down to the ground.
She frowned disdainfully, and Athrun, noticing it, could only ask, "What did I do wrong?"
"Do I look helpless to you?" she asked, annoyed. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips formed a straight line. "I'm not a damsel in distress, if you've well damned notice."
Athrun maintained his calm façade, his mirth twinkling in his emerald eyes. "But now that we're in Plant territory—or at least a mile or so away. Actually regardless of where a royal is, he or she should always act his or her part."
Cagalli could have laughed at the irony of his thought. They had started walking at a leisurely pace, as if they were admiring the forest instead of trying to get out of it. Kusanagi was following behind, not so happy at being so far away from where they usually stay.
"But then," Athrun continued with a slight crease on his forehead. "I have withheld myself from doing so because you've not given me much opportunity to show my supposedly proper breeding. I know I've been aggressive and such, but will you give me this chance to redeem myself as the future sovereign of the land we're currently on?"
Cagalli raised a brow at his eloquence. She was impressed, but still, the mildly pompous expression he held didn't match him that much. "What's with the sudden change of attitude, Your Highness?" she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
Athrun did not skip a beat in answering, "It's to hopefully change your opinion of me in the case we meet again in the future. Contrary to what the political advisers say, the opinion of one citizen matters. So, have I done well so far?"
Cagalli could not help the smile forming on her lips. She hadn't done so in a long time, and it felt somewhat wrong. There was also another feeling stirring at the depths of her stomach—one she could not put a name on, but there was definitely something there.
"Yes," she grudgingly admitted. "But expatiating yourself further would be futile. I doubt we'll meet again."
Athrun frowned dismally. That thought didn't suit with him well, and it scared him how he was already attached to the blonde. I don't even know her name! he mentally panicked—such was her effect on him.
They spent the next ten minutes in silence, deep in thought. Neither knew what to say and they both had unconsciously slowed down, prolonging their inevitable separation. Cagalli pursed her lips and let out a weak sigh. She knew she wasn't meant to feel like this—she didn't know his name, so the prince was only another stranger to her, regardless of his rank.
She was looking morosely at the ground to avoid his gaze. Yeah, so much for being a brave lioness, Cagalli, she scolded herself with a frown. Not that it matters anyway—you're going to leave him soon.
She just didn't expect soon to be one minute away.
She was still walking when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Hey—!" she cried, surprised. "What's your problem?"
"You were going to fall if you took another step," Athrun explained with a small shrug. He pointed to the spot behind her. "It's elevated, you see. We're here."
Cagalli whirled around—he wasn't lying after all. It was the last few minutes of sunset and they had caught it just in time to see the sun sink into the sea. Wow, she couldn't help but admire. The sunset sure is more lovely here than in the forest.
"You shouldn't say those things, you know," Athrun suddenly spoke up—shocking the both of them. Damn, he cursed, why did I have to say that? It was the line he was holding in for the past ten minutes and he saw her amber eyes look up at him in confusion.
"What did I say?" the girl asked, her contralto voice reverberating between them.
"Ah, I mean the one you said earlier. Err, you said we wouldn't meet again," he tried to explain not so smoothly. Get your act together, Athrun! "You know that story about those red strings tying people together? Like, if it's fated or destined or something for their paths to cross, it just will—?"
"You're terrible at explaining these things," Cagalli pointed out, trying to stifle a laugh. "But I get it. Do you really think we're meant to be together?"
At this, Athrun's eyes widened, and so did Cagalli's a second after she realized what she had just implied. "No, no! I meant—err, never mind."
They were staring at each other, blushing. There was enough light from the moon to illuminate the color and they ended up laughing at the silliness.
"Anyway," Cagalli started. "This is your stop, isn't it? I'll go now—" she turned around again to Kusanagi when his hand was on her arm again.
"Could you make it on your own? It's dark and dangerous. I know you think the forest is your domain or something like that, but please consider staying with me here in Plant," he said, trying to look at her straight in the eye albeit how wary he was of himself. "Please?"
"Stay…in Plant…with you?" Cagalli found herself rambling.
"Even if it's just for tonight!" Athrun offered again. Shut up, Athrun, you are not helping! "I don't want to be guilty if anything happened to you just because I let you go out on your own in the night."
So it's just his conscience, Cagalli thought sadly. She shook her head. "I don't belong in Plant. Or anywhere, actually—except for the forest. And won't they be suspicious if you suddenly brought a girl into your castle just like that?" She tried to give him a smile. "I'll be fine, um…"
"Athrun," he said, returning her smile with as much sincerity he could muster. "My name's Athrun Zala."
Cagalli's smile faltered and her mouth hung open. "I told you not to tell me your name!" she cried, but she still couldn't force down the smile on her face. "I guess it's only fair if I told you mine, then."
"I'm Cagalli. Cagalli Yula—" and she stopped, forgetting that he couldn't know about who she really was. "You can call me Cagalli."
"Well, Cagalli," he tried to test her name, and it seemed to roll of his tongue quite nicely. "Cagalli, I insist on having you as my guest."
"Athrun," she answered, finding his name to be fitting on him. "I'd rather not impose, really. I—let's just say I don't want our favors to each other to continue."
Nodding once, he accepted the fact that it was her pride that kept her from staying with him. He realized that he was still holding her arm, and that his hand had slid down to her wrist while they were talking. Pulling away, he mumbled a quick apology and ducked his head down.
Cagalli nodded, too, and turned around. Kusanagi neighed, impatient for his owner to come. When she put her hand in one pocket, she pivoted her heel on the ground and called out, "Athrun! Wait, I—"
Athrun, who was just about to slide down the gentle slope of the small hill, turned around and raised a skeptic brow, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "You?"
Cagalli pulled out the pouch from her pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it deftly, a bit disappointed that she didn't change her mind about staying. "You're giving this back to me? But—why?"
"You said you wouldn't leave me until I gave this back to you. Funny, I don't even know what's inside."
He walked up to her and opened the pouch. He dug for the small ring and when he finally caught it, he brought it out and showed it to her. "This is why I had to run after you," he admitted with a laugh.
"And here I thought that the only way you could get a girl was to chase her into a forest," Cagalli joked, ignoring the slight pang in her chest. "I should've known that someone like you would be already on their way to getting married or something. How old are you, exactly?"
"Eighteen. You?"
"Seventeen," she answered nonchalantly. She further inspected the ring in his hand and saw that it was beautifully crafted with the metal band having small gentle curves deviate from the center where a ruby was held in place. "This is for the pink-haired girl in the carriage, isn't it?"
When he nodded, she laughed. "Well, thank Haumea you came after it. I wouldn't have had a use for it anyway. I thought it was food; I'm not really the jewelry kind of person," she said. When her laughter ceased, she continued, "Right. I better be on my way then."
"Wait!" Athrun called out again. He caught her hand and took it in his, carefully putting on the ring on one of her fingers. When he saw what he had done, he looked away shyly.
Cagalli's eyes were wide in shock. Did he just…? She put her hand up to her face to look at the ring. It was very pretty, but it just wasn't hers. "Athrun, this is no way to give a girl a ring! Your fiancée would be displeased."
But Athrun hadn't heard a word she said. He was intently staring at the ring on Cagalli's hand and saw how it became her, how it was perfect for her—more than it could fit Lacus. He wanted to smack his head at the stupidity of his actions, but refrained from doing so, keeping his dignity intact while with her. "Right, I'm sorry, I—"
When Cagalli handed the ring back to him, another voice cut through the night air. "Athrun! Athrun is that you?"
That voice—it couldn't be— Cagalli flinched and decided that it was best for her to take her leave at that moment. Saying a quick apology to Athrun, she mounted Kusanagi and stirred away; riding at full-speed, and not once looking back.
It was a little after dusk, and a lone figure was passing through dark alleyways and the occasional crowded streets to get to his destination. Jumping over small fences and gently pushing through crowds of people, this guy seemed to be very set to make his way out. This person's cloak trailed behind him, the force of his abrupt movements pulling and pushing at the stretched wool.
He had just been from the center of the city, specifically at the town square where people had gathered to form a fighting crowd against the poor messenger of the king and the other escorts. Swords and shields were raised, but the people, testing their limits again, still went on with protesting loudly.
The guy shuddered and for a moment, lost his footing while he was distracted over the memory of fallen heads and innocent bloodshed all over the brick road children usually played on. The people felt even more compelled to fight against the soldiers because of what they just did to their fellow people, but the soldiers, being repeatedly trained and conditioned for cases such as this, continued with the slaughter.
He noticed the look on one of the soldier's face—how he had been so horrified when he raised his sword over his head and stabbed it at the man lying down on the floor. It was the king against the people, and the people had no willpower to fight against the army; the army of Orb didn't have it in them to harm the many civilians. They were all so reluctant to do anything, and that had been the case for the past five years.
And then there were those The Alliance bastards who acted like kings and treated everyone else like dust. They made rounds with a few escorts from the Orb military, knocking on different houses to inspect for suspicious activity, they claimed to be said by the king himself. The people had no choice as not cooperating could result in their assault, looting, and worse, killing them.
Rounding a final corner, the person found himself on a main street—lined with different shops adjoined to houses. Except they were all closed so early, probably for fear that the army would decide to march in at any time—that, or the people were out participating in the riot.
He kept on running and finally stopped in front of a building that looked dilapidated and abandoned—but the man knew that it wasn't really so. He knocked once, twice, and then after a pause, thrice.
"Who is it?" a voice whispered from the other side.
"Miri, let me in," he replied, losing patience and knocking another time. The door creaked open in front of him and he found himself looking at the brunette holding a small candle in her hand. Seeing her, he immediately took her in his arms, massaging circles onto her back. He released her and stepped into the house, locking the door behind him quietly.
The guy took her hand and they walked through the hallway with only the small light guiding them. "How is it out there?" Miriallia, nicknamed Miri, asked nervously, holding his hand. "I couldn't see much through the window upstairs, but I saw people and they were—" her voice wavered. "—I just don't want anyone to be hurt, Tolle."
Tolle smiled reassuringly at the worried brunette. He didn't know if she was able to see it through the darkness, but it was there all the same. He squeezed her hand once and let go when they arrived at the small dining room. The faces of the people waiting for them lighted up. "Big brother Tolle, you're back!"
Tolle grinned at the children. "Yes, I'm back. Have you eaten?"
One of the children took his hand and led him to the table. There was a basket with a few more pieces of stale bread and cups of water. It was inadequate for children like them to be eating so meagerly like this, but they had no choice—rations were hard to come by these days. Tolle gave a loud sigh. He didn't pity these children; he empathized with them. After all, he grew up in the very same orphanage.
He heard a woman's voice cut through his thoughts and he turned around and found a purple-haired woman aiding an older male. He beamed, "Aunt Caridad, Reverend Malchio—I made it back."
"Yes, you did," Caridad returned his smile and took a seat on one of the chairs around the table. "How is it out there, Tolle? The children haven't been out for a week out of fear that the soldiers will come," she stated solemnly, her tone bordering melancholy.
"Bad, actually. There were a few casualties at Heliopolis Square. It was full actually. I think they know."
The children looked at the brown-haired boy they considered their brother. He had just given a vague answer, and none of their innocent minds could process what could possibly be known by them—whoever they were. They turned to Caridad, the one who mostly took care of them, and saw that there was a frown forming on her old but still beautiful face.
"Are the soldiers leaving tomorrow?" she asked with pursed lips.
"Yes, it's happening next week," he said, sitting down on another chair. Miriallia followed and sat beside him, still clutching his elbow. "They started to notice on the third year, so this is the second mass rally, isn't it?"
Miriallia nodded in response. "They're holding their breath, aren't they?"
"It's not unexpected," Reverend Malchio stood up, his cane supporting his weight. Caridad stood up and tried to convince him to sit back down, but the priest would not have it. "It's what the people want to believe. Hope isn't that hard to find after all."
Everyone smiled. It was rare for him to speak up like this when all of them were gathered together, but when he did, they knew that what Reverend Malchio had to say was something worth noting.
"Yeah," Miriallia added. "It's all we have, isn't it?"
A knock echoed throughout the small space and they all faced toward the door at the end of the hallway. Everyone paused in their merriment and the children started to cower, hiding behind the table. Caridad went to them and shushed the children, telling them there was nothing to worry about.
Miriallia looked up at Tolle. "You weren't followed, were you?"
"No, I took so many detours just to avoid anyone who might've seen me," he admitted, though also a bit unsure. "I'll go get it—" Tolle took a step forward and Miriallia took his elbow with her hand and pulled him back.
"It's probably just Sai. I'll get it," she offered.
"Miri, I'm being a gentleman here!"
"No, you're being a pain in the ass!"
Tolle sighed, knowing his overly feminist girlfriend of one year was most likely going to file this under an insult to her gender. He raised his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine," he said, grinning. "But if it's a big bad wolf at the door, don't come running to me."
Miriallia stuck her tongue out childishly. "I'll always come running to you, Tolle." With a chaste kiss on his cheek, Miriallia ran to get the door. The children, disregarding their anxiety, started to snicker at the display of the couple.
She opened the door and found Sai tired, clutching his left arm and his glasses cracked. She gasped at the sight of him bloodied and bruised. "Sai, what happened?" she cried out, pulling him into the house and locking the door. "What happened?" she asked again, alarmed.
Hearing her shout, Tolle and the other children ran up to Miriallia and Sai. When they also saw the state of their other big brother in the sparse light, they started to murmur to one another, mostly asking what happened. One of the little girls started to cry and Caridad followed, calming the small girl. When she also caught a glimpse of Sai's battered body, she exclaimed, "Sai! Oh my, Sai, let's get that fixed first—"
Sai put his good arm up to stop her. He didn't speak, but he rushed up the stairs. Miriallia and Tolle, after one affirmative nod, went up after him. The children, unsure of what to do, stayed and prayed downstairs with their Aunt Caridad and Reverend Malchio.
Upstairs, at the shared living space of the children, Sai was sitting on one of the small beds, looking distraught. Miriallia and Tolle sat beside each other on the bed opposite Sai's. The tension still hung around the air, what with Sai's silence and Miriallia and Tolle's evident worry for their friend.
"Sai, are you going to tell us what happened?" Miriallia finally spoke up, holding her boyfriend's hand for support. "You were still at Heliopolis, weren't you?"
The boy in question nodded grimly before looking at the direction of the window. There was a thick, dusty curtain there to hide the children and to keep the appearance of the rest of the building. "Look out," he said. "You'll see what happened."
With the slightest bit of hesitation, Miriallia and Tolle stood up and walked to where Sai pointed. Gathering the heavy cloth in one hand, Tolle pulled it aside, revealing people rushing home, running away from just one place.
Miriallia held her breath when she finally saw what Sai wanted them to see. At the very center of the city was a giant flame, burning brightly in the night. From where they stood, it only looked like a faint spark, but Miriallia knew that the damage was far bigger than that. "That's Heliopolis Square…it's burning!"
Tolle, having been there just a while ago, was even more unnerved at the sight. He held the trembling Miriallia in his arms and faced Sai. "What happened?"
Sai frowned. "One of the protesters got through the guards and went onstage. It caused quite the frenzy, but the guards couldn't afford to put their attention away from the growing crowd." Sai paused to take off his glasses and massage his aching temples. "He was just jumping up and down the stage, so they didn't mind him that much—after a while, though, when a strong gust of wind came along, he emptied the contents of the sack he was carrying."
"Why was he carrying a sack? How'd he get through like that?" Tolle asked, not believing the incredulity of the situation. "It seems more like a staged setup—do you think a loyal Orb guard let him through?"
Sai shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Could you guess what was inside that bag of his?"
"Something that would fly with the wind…paper?" Miriallia guessed.
"Yeah," Sai confirmed, furrowing his eyebrows. "It took a while, but his message got across. That man set himself on fire before the guards could behead him. That's why Heliopolis is like that right now."
Miriallia bit her lower lip. Tolle, seeing this, held her even tighter. "So the people scurried away?"
"Like mice," Sai answered with a twinge of bitterness laced in his voice. "The freaks called in from the Alliance wanted to chase after them, but the ones from Orb insisted to do some damage control before the fire could spread away from the stage."
For a moment, they were all quiet, silently praying for the state of their country. Miriallia was the first to speak. "Do you know what was written on those papers?"
Sai nodded, taking out a few crumpled sheets from his pocket. He grimly handed one to each of them and let his back fall to recline on the bed. Sai sighed again—they were living in a too messed up world. Not world, country, he had to remind himself. He had been wishing to escape Orb for so long, but attempting equated suicide, and he believed he still had much to live for.
He heard a gasp slip from both of their lips and decided it was best to not expound on it. He didn't understand much, but he knew what the person on stage was trying to say.
"So it's true…it's her, isn't it? It has to be her!" Miriallia argued, flailing about with her simultaneous disbelief and amazement. "This means she really is…"
"We can't be too sure, Miri," Tolle said. He didn't know why his breathing became uneven, but he blamed it on the same skepticism Miriallia showed. "We shouldn't get our hopes up."
"But it's all we have," she repeated, her words firm when leaving her lips. Blue eyes scanned the paper again and again, rereading the small printed text that blurred each time she went back to it. There were only three words, but she still could not find it in her to consider what she was seeing. After the umpteenth time, she settled the parchment on her lap and let the tears she was holding back loose. There was no longer any doubt in her mind.
The Goddess of Victory was coming back.
End of Chapter Three
Song of the Chapter: Tall Tales for Spring by Vanessa Carlton
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