All the Things You Never Knew:
Part Seven
By: Kitty E.
Relena had been staying at the Barton Palace for a month, but still she had never quite adjusted to the fact that every corridor looked the same. Looking around, she found that, as usual, she wasn't completely sure of where she was. It's been too long since a woman went through here, she thought, picking out faults in the decor and deciding on the changes she would make soon. Fortunately, she knew at least that Heero would be in the East Wing, and that it was where she found herself now. Whenever she found herself alone, she lifted her skirts to hurry on through to find him. When at last she saw him, she smoothed her dress and ran a careful hand over her hair. "Heero?" she called, wincing as she did, I always forget to use a title.
He paused, and slowly turned around, they stared at each other uneasily for a moment before he nodded, and greeted her. "My Lady, do you need something?"
Relena nodded shallowly, and swallowed against the lump in her throat, "I do. I have heard you are leaving, Heero, and not simply for the duties of state. A campaign, my prince, an invasion," she paused, eyes narrowing in accusation. "You promised, my prince. You promised you would stay here at least until the wedding. Why, Heero, why would you do this to me?"
"Do not presume that your desires have any bearing on my decisions, my lady." Heero started to turn away, his own emotions having been rubbed too raw over the past few days to leave any room for thought of Relena's.
"Hasn't it ever occurred to you that maybe they should?" she asked sharply. "For Godsakes, Heero, I am your fianc�e, in a month I shall be your wife. You *cannot* just disregard me," she stamped her foot childishly in emphasis, but her argument was not at all foolish.
Heero gave her the privilege of speaking to his face, looking back to regard her coolly, but apparently he had nothing to say just yet, and so she continued. "I have tried, Heero. I've tried as hard as I can to be the perfect woman, but you... you've never even offered a warm look." She blinked a few times, trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes. "What is it you want? Is there nothing I can do?"
Heero pressed his lips together, and answered honestly. "I want a woman who would never ask that question." Relena sucked in a sharp breath, but he did not let her speak. "I will follow through on this campaign, and when I return- and *I* will decide when that is- we will marry as is the best interest for both our countries."
Once again, he tried to turn away, but was stopped by a soft, crushed voice. "You won't even try? You can't even try to love me?"
Heero paused, taking no pleasure in having hurt her feelings, but he saw no other way to avoid lying. He considered his answer carefully, and then replied, "Not yet. Forgive me, my lady... but I have much to attend to." Definitively, he turned away, moving down the corridor without so much as a backwards glance.
Relena was stood completely still for a moment before an angered growl forced its way past her lips. She had no control of her emotions just now, but it was still in her power to choose between screaming and crying. She was afraid to shout curses, to spit upon Heero's name, Heero's promises. If anyone, any clerk or slave with a loose tongue, overheard her, to her dying day she would be known as a difficult brat, if she wasn't already. The energy she had drudged up from inside for her tirade refused to fade, still building up and demanding an outlet. A few steps ahead there was a table topped with a vase of flowers. Picking up the porcelain relic with both hands, she lobbed it at a portrait of some obscure Barton ancestor with all the force she could muster.
Shards of china, droplets of stale water, and a rainbow of exotic blooms burst against the wall, a clattering, shining explosion, marring the painting and staining the carpet. Frowning tightly, Relena surveyed her handiwork, and the promptly stormed back to her rooms.
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Trowa had made it clear that there was genuine work to be done, and the Quatre's distractions, pleasant as they were, would only be bothersome. He was unaccustomed to having nights off and so found himself wandering the palace in search of something to interest him. Other servants found it distasteful to associate with him, and Quatre felt no different. Birds of a feather flock together, and Quatre did not, and would never truly consider himself as part of their flock. As he traveled down one corridor, he absently noticed he was near Duo's chambers, and decided to change his direction.
"It's hard to believe that you're the one I've had to live up to all this time."
Quatre turned to regard the source of the bitter words, and spied another slave in the corner, the gold wristband signifying his bondage glittering in the candlelight. A quick assessment revealed that they were about the same age, and size, but from there the similarities ended. Fair hair to ebony, wide turquoise eyes to cynical sloe, bridled free spirit to dignified reserve. He had never seen this other boy before, and had no inkling as to why he was considered a rival.
"Who are you?" he asked, without fear.
"I suppose you may call me Wufei," he took a few steps forward. "What were you before this?"
Quatre shrugged slightly, "Rich man's son." That in itself was summary enough, his life had been spent waiting for his inheritance, both of the money and his place as head of the family.
Wufei apparently found this funny, chuckling softly, "Of course."
Angered, Quatre countered, "And you? What were you, or have you always been a slave?"
He earned a deadly look for such a remark. "*I* was the son to the Emperor's adviser. I grew up in the Royal Palace alongside princes. My future importance in politics was all but guaranteed. Were it not for... things unforeseen, I would have stood on the Emperor's right hand side."
"Suma, right?" Quatre asked, interrupting before Wufei could say anymore. "I should have known, you have the arrogance of one. Your people paid for your blustering, don't ask me to feel sorry for you."
"I don't need pity," Wufei replied through clenched teeth. "I shall take my place beside a monarch even if it is not Suma's."
"You seek to capture Heero's attention then? You want me to help?" Quatre asked, at last seeing a purpose to this conversation.
Throaty laughter echoed down the hall, "I need no help from you. I've only ventured this far to make sure you won't stand in my way."
Quatre never reacted to threats well, let alone one by a person he did not fear. "And why should I bother to tread carefully?"
Wufei smirked, and brushed a bit of hair from his hair, "Because it is in my power to convince Duo you are no longer needed elsewhere. " Quatre's reaction was instant and involuntary, as quickly as he hid the flash of fear in his eyes he did not fool the other slave. "That frightens you... why? Do you care for your new master?"
Quatre shook his head, "I care only for what he may soon offer."
"And what is that?"
Quatre took more time to answer than he should have, he knew the answer and yet he felt there had to be more. "I just want my freedom... and I think Trowa will grant it."
Wufei seemed surprised, but did not say anything.
"These Royals, they spend so much of their childhood reading fairytales of true love. They like the idea, and believe to be true. Still, even they must realize it is not for them. After all, marriages in this world are not based on spells or prophecies, just contracts and alliances. But they *look* for it, they want it, a love so noble it deserves it's own story. Heero doesn't understand it, Duo doesn't want it, but Trowa... he believes in it. Believes in it enough to convince him that what we have is worth making a sacrifice for, that he loves me enough to let me go... or something like that." He sighed softly, and looked at what he'd said, hearing the words echo in his mind. At least Trowa will never know I didn't love him, these memories will bring him happiness.
Wufei snorted softly, "I have to commend you, it's a good idea." He moved past Quatre and put his hand on the door to Duo's room. "But you should not have told me." He opened the door and disappeared.
For an irrational moment, Quatre felt like tearing the door open and demanding to know what Wufei had meant. He felt sick with worry, but was left helpless. To calm himself, he told himself it would be all right if he did nothing to hinder Wufei's plans, whatever they may be. He needed to put distance between himself and the unpleasant thing Wufei had just said, but it was still too early to return to Trowa's chambers. Instead, he sought refuge in the library, though he wasn't able to read the Kalean written language well, but there were usually enough maps, diagrams, and illustrations that he could find something of interest in their text. Pushing open the heavy doors, he had expected to find an empty room, but found Heero.
He tried to duck out before being seen, but as usual Heero was too fast. "Quatre?"
He closed his eyes briefly, and cursed his luck. He turned to face the prince, and said, "I've been given the night off as it were... I thought I'd look up something about stars." It was a completely random answer, but it served its purpose well, the hopeful look on Heero's face was gone.
He watched apprehensively as the prince stood swiftly and moved towards one of the shelves. His eyes slid over the titles for a moment, before Heero reached up to pull out one dusty volume. Quatre tensed as Heero then crossed the room to hand it to him, but accepted it graciously, showing no sign of his discomfort. He stared at the book in his hands, avoiding Heero's eyes and willing him to walk away quickly and return to his work. Luck was not on his side, and a bent finger slipped beneath his chin and tipped it upwards. Quatre did not try to hide his eyes now, but offered them up for Heero's scrutiny.
"I leave in two days," he said softly. "And-" he seemed to remember something just then and stopped himself suddenly. "Do you... do you still hate me?"
Quatre sighed softly, "I don't hate you, Heero, I did for a long time, but not now."
"Then why have you-"
"Please, don't ask me that," Quatre demanded haltingly. His eyes dropped again, "There isn't any answer."
There was a long moment of silence, and then soft sound of frustration before Heero spoke again. "If it's nothing I've done, then what is it? What do you want?"
Quatre did not answer, but shifted back just a little.
"I am invading Kidas, I could take you with me. Much of our time will be spent in your homeland," Heero's voice was a little more authoritative, there was no doubt he had the upper hand now that this was said.
There was a soft gasp as Quatre's lips fell slack, desperately he tried to find a way to make going along with Heero a logical choice. He wanted so badly to see the land that had raised him, to be among his people, but to leave Trowa now would ruin all his careful work. And Heero... he would never... would he? "I could only go if you promised to set me free," he blurted suddenly. It was a stupid thing to say but he clung the slim hope that Heero would understand, and agree.
Heero looked surprised for a moment, but it faded quickly into his usual stern visage. "I can't do that... I don't want to be without you."
Quatre shut his eyes, and clenched his teeth against the words of outrage he wanted to say. Heero sensed the anger just the same, felt it coming from Quatre almost like heat. He stepped back, and looked away, "That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" He shook his head, but to himself, "It's just not possible."
Quatre let out a slow breath, "That is why, Heero. If you really must know, it's because you still think I'm a slave. To you, I have always been, and always will be a slave. But it was *not* always so, I was free, I had a home, and family that had nothing to do with what you-" Quatre stopped himself, and let some thing go unsaid. "*That* is why you cannot have what you want." He turned, book still in hand, and rushed from the room. Briefly, he glanced back to see Heero's face, but he saw nothing in those eyes, no anger or pain. The door was closed, and Quatre knew that Heero would never speak to him again, he almost laughed as he realized it did not bother him.
"Fake," he murmured. "All that we had was fake." He shivered a little and started towards Trowa's room. I think all the love that I shall ever find now will be fake.
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Part Eight