All the Things You Never Knew:
Part Ten
By: Kitty E.
Duo knew that it was best to at least look grieved, even if he all he could feel was nervousness and guilt, but something kept him from playing the part well. The palace, or rather the embalmers, would be receiving Heero's body today, and protocol required that he be there. His brother's dead, decaying, body was being transported with the greatest care to be placed in the catacombs beneath St. Andrea, but before it could laid to rest he was expected to look upon it and confirm that it was truly the prince's body. He wasn't completely sure that he could do that, the only way he kept himself from going mad was to block out the memories, the knowledge, of what he had done, and he did not know what he would do when confronted with the final proof of his crime. Still, he could no more leave than he could stand to be there, and so he stood as still as possible, feeling as though he were being eaten alive from the inside. Wufei stood beside him and, whenever the embalmers' eyes wondered elsewhere, would offer some brief touch to the shoulder, hip, or face to calm him.
Wufei's almost constant presence near his master, while never explained to those around them, was simply becoming a part of the new way. The world had changed in more than one respect with the passing of the two most powerful men in Kalea, and gradually people were beginning to accept what was their new truth. Relena had ironically found better treatment now that Heero was gone. Resolutely, she had hid herself in her rooms, but now even she was venturing from out to receive the many visitors gathering for the pending funeral. Her devoted grieving, the clear affection she still had for her dead fianc�, had transformed the gossiped stories of their engagement into something of a fairytale. She was being touted as the model for noble women, and Heero, the loving but dutiful prince. It made Relena laugh bitterly when her ladies in waiting assured her that Heero's last thoughts were of her. Still distraught, she had not even begun to consider what she would do now, and that played very well into Duo's plans.
Trowa had apparently found some strange secret to ease his grief, something that seemed to please him merely by existing and being known only to him. Duo dared not ask about it, dared not seek to know, his brother's dues had been paid, and Duo did not wish to hurt him again. There was the small matter of Trowa's coming of age, of the arrangements and engagements that would follow, but for now he left his younger brother to recover. He did not know when he would be forgiven, but he was assured that at some point the newly created animosity between them would be cleared.
The sound of a door opening broke each man from his introspective silence, and Duo was the first to turn towards the noise. He frowned tightly, and moved forward, "My Lady, you shouldn't be here."
"Why not?" Relena demanded, sharply. Her whole body spoke of violence should someone try to move it.
Duo sighed, Relena had never been as kind to him as she had been to Heero, but he forced himself to be civil. "Stay if you like, but it will not be easy to-"
"I am here to meet and bless the body of my dead fianc�, I did not expect it to be easy." She walked forward and stood stubbornly next to, but not near, Duo.
The Prince glanced over to Wufei with a plaintive look, //My future wife// he commented silently. It was by no means official, Relena didn't much care for him, and the feeling was more than mutual but Relena's sense of obligation to her family was strong, and her engagement had been to a Barton, not just to Heero. Wufei flashed a quick half smile, mischievous and condescending for an instant before it disappeared. Sex without love was nothing new to Duo, but marriage was unknown and quite troubling. Wufei's calculating eyes, and barely cruel smile was enough remind him that, at the very least, Relena could be easily handled.
There was a knock at the door, and some official, a courtier he would soon have to make an acquaintance of, appeared and opened both of the French doors. "Sire, it has come."
Relena's already pink and swollen eyes began to shed new tears, and Duo took advantage of this moment of weakness to take her hand and lead her from the parlor. The funerary coach had been pulled up right beside the steps, and Duo halted at the first step down. Through the open back he saw it, amid flowers old and new, lay the simple coffin that held his brother's body. He was nauseous just looking at it, knowing what was inside. His head began to feel thick, and his thoughts became difficult to order. Still, he did not look away, he became convinced that somehow it would cast suspicion upon him. Relena's high-pitched, increasingly loud sobs were not helping his sudden illness, and he released her hands to take a few steps away.
"Master?" Wufei's voice was barely above a whisper, or was it? Duo found he couldn't tell.
Duo tried to remember what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say, but whenever he committed to a word or action he would worry it would give him away. He stood still, like stone, like a statue, desperate not to reveal a thing, be it of grief or guilt.
"Master," now Wufei's voice was forceful, and he tore his eyes away from the coach and coffin. "Master, are you prepared?"
Duo nodded, but did not understand the question, until he saw the coach doors being opened. Blindly, he grabbed the material on Wufei's shoulder, and the oriental slave took the chance to place his hand on his before discreetly removing it. Damn him, he promised. He promised me that he could handle this. Three men lifted the coffin and set it carefully on the ground, Duo wanted to turn away as they moved to undo the two clasps holding it shut, but he knew he could not look away now.
He could bear the sight only for an instant, and looked away before he could even entirely register the image in his mind for fear of carrying such a memory to his grave. Relena had fallen silent, her breath had stopped, and with a disgusted noise she began it again. Duo had looked to Wufei for some bit of help and received only a look of warning, "It is him," the prince said quietly. "It's Heero. Close it, please, take it away."
Relena had already fled, holding herself in a sort of stately hysteria, in a balance between irrational thought, and rational behavior as she escaped through the halls to her room. Duo made a pretense of following her, but ducked into the first open door he found. Wufei stepped in after him and closed the door, watching silently as Duo's legs gave out, and he crouched on the floor, shuddering. "God, Wufei, god... that was- he-" he coughed violently, as if he would vomit, and then was still, desperately trying to calm himself.
Wufei said nothing, did nothing for a long moment, Duo's emotions were perilously contradictory, and at any moment the slave himself might experience a backlash for being the person that had enabled Duo to commit such a crime. "It is good that you feel remorse, master," he said finally. Tentatively, he stroked his fingers over the prince's mass of chestnut locks, done loosely in a ponytail today, to indicate a bit of modesty. "I think I should fear you if you had no regrets for what has been done. It was not a proud deed, but it is what had to be done, and now there is no going back." He knelt beside Duo and held him close, stroking his back, "And even though now you must deal with this guilt, you have not yet began to reap the *benefits.* In two weeks, do you know what shall pass, Duo?" His voice and actions were tender, and he let his words follow the lead, addressing his prince by his name for the first time. "You shall be crowned and made the darling of your people."
Duo was limp, numb and lost to his thoughts, but he moved when Wufei changed their position, now cradled against the slave. "Just give it time, Duo, just give it time. The great good you shall bring to Kalea will far outweigh this unpleasant necessity." He leaned back, and rested against the wall to wait until his master could speak again. "Such a tormented soul," he remarked threading his fingers through Duo's hair again. "But still beautiful, as worthy of love as any other, I swear it."
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Knowing what was to come to pass today, Trowa had sought refuge in nature, taking Difficult for a ride. An attendant flanked him, silent and sullen, and quite willing to be forgotten. Glancing back once, to see if Mueller was still there, he noticed a large, white pony{1} in the distance, at a trot and maneuvered with a skilled hand. He didn't spare more than a fleeting look, but he was sure that it was Quatre. Unavoidably busy, and chained to proper conduct by a constant company of servants, clerks and assorted ilk, he had not seen or spoken to Quatre since the night he'd first returned. He picked up his own pace a bit, so that Quatre needn't hang back so far and headed down a path familiar to them both. Anticipation seemed to add a mile to the trip, but eventually the muddy, leaf-strewn trail came upon a green, but fading clearing.
He dismounted quickly, and his attendant followed suite. He thrust the reigns out, and ordered, "About a hundred yards that direction there is a spring, water the horses. I feel like a rest."
"Yes, sire," the words were said clearly, but lifelessly. Absently, Trowa wondered if Quatre had been unique in his ability to hold onto his spirit, or had simply been the only slave who dared bare it to his masters. Layer after layer of birch and dogwood concealed the servant, and no sooner had he left earshot was Trowa tackled from behind. "I hadn't realized what it is like-" Quatre murmured into his ear, "-to want you so badly and be kept from you. Turn around, and let me kiss you."
Trowa did turn, but held Quatre back, "Are you sure that would be appropriate?"
Quatre abandoned his kiss, but still crowded Trowa against a tree, "Free men have free will, appropriate or not, the only thing that shall stop me from kissing you is if you do not want it."
"I do, but what I want more than a kiss is to have you by my side, and in my bed while I still can."
Quatre sighed, and let his head fall onto Trowa's shoulder in mock exhaustion. He mentally reviewed Trowa's words in search of a new point to argue, then stopped cold. "While you still can? What does that mean?"
"Sixteen is the age of engagement{2}, or at least when you begin looking. I might soon have a wife competing for my attention."
Quatre winced visibly, "A wife?" At last he broke their embrace and walked a little way off, he turned back to regard Trowa, shifting from foot to foot. "A wife."
"Free man or slave, things are soon to become more difficult. Maybe too difficult, I wouldn't blame you if you left again. But I would like it, Quatre, if I could keep you in my home, always have you near, and not to have to bother with creating moments to be together but just be free to find them throughout the day."
"There's no other way?" he asked weakly.
Trowa shook his head softly, "One of the requirements of my positions. Quatre, you still can't trust me enough to believe I'd let you go if you didn't want me?"
"It's not that," Quatre looked pained, and tiredly wiped his brow. "I wouldn't just be your slave, Trowa. Anyone, anyone who thought the were better than I am could ask anything of me, and I would have to comply."
Trowa was still leaning against the tree, but he did not look relaxed, his shoulders and expression tense with emotion. "I would protect you from them, from Duo, I'm not concerned about hiding my choices. If you do not want this enough you should just go."
"What makes you think I don't want to say yes?" Quatre snapped. "You say I doubt you, but you do not trust me either."
"How could I? After what you did I-" Trowa stopped himself, he felt a rare anger in him and he did not care to indulge it.
Quatre's shoulders sagged, "I wronged you, yes, I know that. I'm sorry..." he paused, but was not encouraged by Trowa's demeanor. "I'll think more about it, I promise." A far off snap of a twig hailed the other servant's return. "Just one kiss before I give you my answer?"
Trowa thought about refusing, but held out a hand in offering. Quatre took it tightly and pulled him close for a quick kiss, mild and searching. Quatre looked positively elfin as he flashed a farewell smile, and left to mount the bareback white pony that had been given to him along with his freedom. Trowa distracted himself from the deeper issues at hand with thoughts of Elf-Quatre and his select repertoire of spells.
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Trowa regarded the funeral procession with such detachment he felt more like the throng of peasants that had gathered at a gates than a member of it. He had never realized that there could be so many rules and traditions ascribed to such a private process as grieving. Even the procession from the steps of the palace to St. Andrea was timed and choreographed, but for what reason he could not deign. First to arrive, four rows deep and four wide, was their legion of cousins, the noblemen that made up the upper echelons of the aristocracy. They dressed humbly in black and lacked adornment, standing solemnly as if they cared, but Trowa knew, and they knew, that they were only there to prove to the peasants their closeness to the king, morbid bragging rights to be hinted at among lesser company in the future.
Relena had emerged next, her disdain for the spectacle more visible than Trowa's. The finality of this occasion, the unavoidable truths she'd been forced to face had aged her. She sat upon her bay gelding with a dignity and aloofness she'd never had control of before. With diplomatic portions of intrigue and dread, Trowa regarded her companion, Dorothy of Catalonia. There was a shortage of eligible, presentable young women in the nobility, and though Dorothy carried herself with the utmost grace, and reserve, there was a menacing quality about her. If one looked too hard they would never find it, but in an absent glance Trowa had seen, and feared it.
Difficult suddenly reared up a little, displeased at the presence of other horses around him. A stable hand moved forward, and took the reigns steadying him. "He'll be alright, sire," he voice low, and cooing for the horse. "Once he can get moving, he'll be alright."
Trowa nodded, saying nothing, and giving no outward sign of his impatience- one that seemed to include everything -save a sidelong glance at the door. Duo was the last to appear, the eldest son now, and future king, nothing could begin or end until it was his 'will.' Finally, the doors opened, and Duo emerged with tired steps, but a straight back. He paused momentarily to survey his gathered family, absently striking an almost portrait like pose. He looked good in black, and his loose hair moved like waves of water, in character or not, Duo certainly *looked* like a king. Trowa's eyes swept over him indifferently, and then fell upon the slave beside him. Unconsciously, his hands tightened on his reigns, as he simultaneously remembered and cursed Wufei.
It was easier to hate the slave than his brother, but right now he didn't want to hate anyone. He wanted to mourn his brother and father but his mind was constantly being dragged elsewhere to selfish pursuits. He shut such thoughts away, and hoped, futilely, to make some sort of peace with his family before the day is over. Duo mounted easily, and the procession began, soldiers marched before them, pressing the crowd back, and from the sidewalks people watched them pass. Some threw flowers in their path, others pebbles, but most simply observed them with a kind of respectful boredom.
St. Andrea loomed at the end of the King's Way, the central street of the capitol that connected the palace at the North, and the city's most important church at the South, the street from which the entire metropolis radiated. Trowa, lost in the very thoughts he'd hoped to put aside, only looked up when the reigns were tugged sharply by a groom to halt Difficult. Before him Duo dismounted, and only after his horse had been led away did the rest of them follow his example. The new Crown Prince seemed to hesitate a moment before ascending the steps, but it was so brief one could scarcely comment on it.
Trowa had been in St. Andrea only a few times, royal neglect of the church was accepted as necessity, but he still found himself in awe of how well the temple embodied divinity, real or not. He sat in the first pew, beside his brother, but neither sibling sought any comfort in each other's prescence. The Bishop, dressed in the fine robes that reminded all present of the church's great wealth and power, and with an almost arrogant wave of his hand, signaled the beginning of the funeral song, loud and nearly discordant in it's forceful proclamation of grief.
The doors were closed upon the first note, the people were allowed every involvement with the grieving process save this, and the royal family was expected to maintain it's composure at all times before and after this last, sheltered but public farewell. Trowa closed his eyes and listened to the music, thinking only of its intricacies, letting nothing else touch him.
He did not notice the sudden flood of light as the doors were opened, nor did he hear the startled gasps and angered cries of the assembled aristocracy, but he opened his eyes when the music stopped and followed the gaze of every man and woman present to the shadowed figure at the door. Soldiers, armed and in foreign garb, followed this person down the aisle, each noble seeming to stand only after he had passed. Away from the harsh spotlight of the sun, his features became more defined, red hair, cut short and pulled to the side, and nearly colorless blue eyes. He seemed to be in his late-twenties, but was as thin, and fair as a child.
Duo gave a panicked look to Wufei, then stood up angrily, and shouted down to the man as he approached. "Who dares to interrupt my father's funeral?"
The slight figure afforded Duo only a glare, and announced to them all in a voice that seemed unaccustomed to being so harsh, "I am Marius, ruler of Kidas. I have come, as is my right as King Treize's first born son, to mourn my father's passing."
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{1} Think Peasant's Pony, not Carnival Pony. ^_^; That's all, it's not quite as big as a horse, but Quatre isn't riding anything absurdly small.
{2} 16 does seem a bit young, ne? But factor in a year for "courting" and about another year or so for agreeing on the terms and preparing for the engagement and you get an easier to swallow age of 18.
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Part Eleven