Heart of the Sword
Afterward
By Zapenstap
Heero stole across the plaza of the seaside mansion in deathly quiet, skulking through the shadows and avoiding the rays of moonlight that poured silver rivers across the lawn. All was quiet, but he had to be sure, absolutely sure, that he compromised all sources of danger here. It had to be as clean as an open meadow, as safe as a mountaintop in perfect isolation, or he would never forgive himself.
He had found only one guard, a night watchman, and capturing him and locking him up had been only a small difficulty. There seemed to be nothing else. It did not surprise him. The resident of this house was not one easily given to fear.
Creeping to the door, he found it locked and guarded with a passcode security monitor. Retrieving a small device from his coat pocket, he held it up to the side of the security system and watched the digitalized combination that opened the door appear before his eyes. He took the device away, entered the code, and watched the door swing open with a soft click. He looked behind him and smiled as he entered, propping the door open with a small stone on the doorstep.
The inside of the house was empty, dark and devoid of all sound. He carefully searched each room on the lower levels and then climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor. Again he checked all the rooms, glad to find them empty, and approached the master bedroom with less caution.
He had been a week back in the Cinq Kingdom with Relena. He had allowed Trowa to fly the Wing Zero back to Cinq when the other pilots decided to return while he flew back with Relena by plane. It should have bothered him, but Zero was the prototype for all the gundams, and each of the pilots had piloted it at least once, and he trusted Trowa. Besides, he had wanted to fly back with Relena and taking care of Wing Zero seemed less important now than taking care of her. She had awoken in his arms stiff and sore at first, but so gratified to see him still there that they did not leave the room for several minutes. That was all it took. There had been more of it during the flight.
Damion had found him shortly before boarding the plane while Relena called home to inform everyone of her return. Heero had stiffened at the meeting, but Damion, arrayed in all his formal attire, had said nothing about the past, nor much about Relena, other than that he was glad to see her with him, which Heero did not understand. They communicated mostly in silence, each with eyes sharp as glass fragments, but Heero felt no competition in it. He was almost sorry to go, and realized with a shock that he actually liked Damion Ravineere. .
"Take care of her," Damion had said softly. "She deserves that." His gaze then became suddenly intense. "There were rumors about the details of my relationship with Relena before we came here," he said. "I want you to know that they're not true."
Heero had never been more relieved to hear anything in his life. He was never really sure if he had believed those rumors, but to hear Damion deny it was a load off his shoulders he hadn't known he was carrying. She really could be totally his, if she wanted it, but the chance was there. "You really are a good person," Heero told him quietly. "I'm... sorry for the way things have been."
"That's a compliment and an apology," Damion replied gravely, but he smiled. "I doubt you give out either often. I thank you, and I appreciate it." Damion then offered him his hand, and Heero took it hesitantly, but Damion's grip was strong. "I mean it," he said, speaking close to his ear. "Take care of her. She's waited a long time." And then Damion explained to him in low tones something he had learned yesterday about Clara's networking over the past few weeks that made Heero's blood boil.
Heero kicked the door open to the Master bedroom and found himself face to face with a blonde girl in bed wearing black lingerie, her hair wild about her face. She made as if to reach under a pillow for the gun Heero was fairly certain she kept there, but catching a glimpse of him in the light from her window, she stayed her hand and leaned back easily. One of her legs, pale and smooth as ivory, came out from under the covers, bare to the thigh, and the covers around her front slipped to her waist.
"Heero," Dorothy Catalonia purred, her eyes like shards of blue crystal, and just as bitingly sharp. "Whatever are you doing in my room at this hour?"
"I came to see you," he said darkly, and pulled a gun on her.
Her eyebrows rose in question, but she was neither afraid nor surprised. Her voice had the consistency of oil. "So is that the way of it? I heard you went to Taravren to be Damion's bodyguard. How did that turn out?"
"I kept him alive," Heero replied. "I hear you knew a great deal about it."
She shrugged and replaced one of the straps that had slipped down her shoulder. "Clara always was a love-sick little thing. Pathetic, really. I wanted to see the look on her face when Damion chose Relena and squashed all of her dreams. You know that all she wanted when we were children was to marry him and live happily ever after?"
"And all you wanted was a fair amount of estates in Taravren when she was made queen."
Dorothy sighed and stretched her arms. "Yes, well, that obviously didn't work out, did it? She was supposed to demand marriage or murder, but she chickened out."
"She's dead," Heero said flatly. "She took a bullet for Damion and died in his arms."
Dorothy's eyes flickered momentarily. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "Was it one of yours?" She eyed the gun thoughtfully.
"No."
Dorothy's lips twitched in a smile. "Well, I guess all that means is that Relena is now free to marry Damion. You don't suppose she would give me estates if I asked for them, would you?" She laughed wickedly and rose from her bed. Heero grimaced. It was all in her plan. She smiled at him. "You know," she murmured, "there was one other thing I wanted."
"And what was that?" he asked in his darkest voice and deepest glare.
She seemed unaffected, approaching him slowly, the light from the window casting odd shadows on her body. "You," she said softly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You see, if Clara failed, Damion would have Relena and I would have you. I could get estates from either of them. If Clara succeeded, I would be given them outright. As for you," she laughed. "Well, would you really want Relena knowing she was a whore cast aside by a prince of a two-bit kingdom? It was a beautiful plan. And don't you think we're perfect for each other?" she added in tones of sweet carress. Her voice was pure music when she tried, but Heero was unaffected. Images flashed through his mind as he looked at her body, but the images were not of Dorothy.
"I'm not sorry to dissapoint you," he said. "That will never happen." He lowered his gun--it wasn't loaded anyway--and lightly pushed the door behind him, holding it open.
Dorothy stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening in shock as Relena stepped through into the room, a tape recorder in her hands. Heero watched her and did not bother to guard his expression from revealing any of his his emotions as his eyes drank in her face, her hair, her body. The very way she moved, glided really, in a long white dress, reminded him of a swan, and in the darkness, he wanted nothing more than to touch her. But he stood in the shadows as she stepped into the moonlight, her eyes meeting Dorothy's in utter calm.
"Miss Relena," Dorothy babbled. "I heard you were back, but I..."
"You thought I would go back to Taravren soon?" Relena finished for her calmly. "Why would I do that, when Heero loves me?"
Dorothy's eyes swung to Heero and she hissed. "But Miss Relena..."
"Damion and I broke up, Dororthy," Relena said. "Because Heero loves me. Everyone's talking about it. Haven't you heard?"
"I...I don't listen to rumors, Miss Relena," she stammered.
"No," Relena said sadly. "You just spread them."
Dorothy's eyes darted.
"They can be traced," Relena added, and paused, fingering the tape recorder, waiting for it to sink in and stretching the silence. When she spoke again, that white angel had a voice frozen like deep winter, and every word was a nail driven through stone. "I want you out of Cinq by dusk tomorrow, Dorothy," she said. "And of Taravren also you are exiled, unless you want to face changes of conspiracy to terrorism. Here you will be sued for Slander if you remain, and I will strip from you every cent you own. You will have to rely on others to support you. If you go, you can fare as well as you might. Your reputation, unfortunately, can not be saved. There have been many inquiries since my return, and you know full well that I am honest."
Dorothy swallowed and she looked to Heero, almost asking for help. "We are not alike," Heero said coldly.
"Truth melts deception, always," Relena said, smiling at him with her heart in her eyes. Dorothy noticed, and blanched. "This should keep you out of trouble," Relena added, turning back to her. "If I see you again, I will not hesitate to denounce you in public."
Relena swept out of the room and Heero followed without looking back, shutting the door quietly behind him. Once they were back out in the lawn and the moon made Relena's skin seem to shine with a pale flame, he couldn't help himself, but picked her up in a hug, burying his face in her neck as he swung her lightly around while she laughed.
And he remembered the joy of the last few days like it was the present, reliving it in his mind.
They had been in Cinq a few weeks while Relena frantically tried to catch up on her work, fretting constantly about what to do about Dorothy. They had talked about it, and about everything else she had planned for Cinq and for the universe. She had had a lot of work to do for the days she had missed, and many meetings, but Heero found her before or after every conference, and soon they learned every hidden corner and closet between every council room. For minutes only they had those days, and the fire that ignited between them was better than anything he had ever known. And it was enough. He was willing to wait forever, as long as he could stay by her, though it drove him crazy. And her reputation was important too, or maybe it wouldn't have mattered so much, especially with the rumors Dorothy had started, though those were slowly dying. But that wasn't the point. He wanted something real with her, something that would last, forever maybe.
He had walked her to her private home at dusk last night, reluctant to let her go, and she paused at her door, aglow in the light of the stars and the streetlamps, clothed in a blue spring dress and sandles that showed the gentle curves of her calves and her arms bare from shoulders to fingertips. He remembered holding her just moments ago, and looking at her wanted to touch her again, every inch of her. And she had looked at him and fidgeted, stalling.
"Heero," she said, the light casting odd shadows on her face. "I love you." He moved in to kiss her and she let him grab her, but she pulled her face away, hands rested lightly on his arms. "Stay the night with me," she said breathlessly.
It had almost killed him, hearing her say that. "Relena," he breathed huskily, trying to block out the images that danced through his head whenever she was near. "Don't. You know you can't."
"I don't care," she said, her hands clutching his shirt sleeves as she stared into his eyes.
"It's only been a few weeks."
"It's been three and half years," she returned with such heartache he could hear it in her voice as well as see it in her eyes.
"No," he said evenly, but he couldn't stop the images. He still wondered at the love in her eyes, and every time she touched him, however innocently, was always a shock. No one had ever wanted to touch him before. She didn't know the damage she could do with what she was suggesting, and how much he wanted it, even though he was afraid. And that was the truth. He was afraid. She still seemed only half-real to him, and he didn't want to ruin it, or hurt her, or do anything to jeopardize this dream. And it wasn't just about him. "You can't damage your reputation." He would threaten anyone who didn't respect her, and he wanted her to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her beyond conception, they he respected her for everything that she was. She had the courage of a lion, the kindness of an angel, the strength of the ocean, and she loved him. It was too good to be true, and he couldn't say or do enough to convince her of like sentiment. But maybe she just wanted him to express it. Fully. He was bad with words; he didn't like to talk, but he could show her. He could show her. He felt hot.
"No one has to know," she said, searching his face.
He smiled at her, into her eyes. "They'll know. They'll guess. They'll find out."
She looked down. "I know," she said, and looked back up again. "Do you want to stay the night?" she repeated it as if there had been no interlude, nothing said between now and her first request.
He froze, breathing in the night. His tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She was serious, really serious. The kisses weren't enough to prove it to her, or to him. She wanted to know him, and he couldn't stop desiring her. It was healthy. He loved her. "Yes," he said hoarsely, and felt the fire building between them until it was a roaring furnace. He flung all hesitation out the door. He could show her he loved her.
She smiled, biting her lip, and took his hands, leading him inside. He could hardly keep his hands off her once they were through the door and kissed her everywhere she would let him as they made their way upstairs in the dark. It slowed them down, but her skin felt hot to his lips and he couldn't stop.
She laughed when they stumbled through the doorway into her room, and she didn't stop laughing when he began removing her clothes in a frenzied fashion, but when he paused long enough to capture the light of her eyes, they twinkled with happy acceptance and an eagerness that surprised him. She stroked his face with one hand and smiled up at him through her lashes as he leaned over her. There was joy in this. He could see it in her eyes. She began plucking at the buttons of his shirt.
"Aren't you scared?" he asked quietly. He was scared. It wasn't fair if she was not when she was the one who was supposed to be.
She undid the last button and smiled up at him. "Yeah," she said, but she didn't sound afraid. "Some. But it's not as scary as you're destroying me, now is it?" And the look she gave him was wicked mischievious.
He forgot all about that when she began touching his chest with her fingers, sliding her hands up his chest and removing his shirt over his shoulders with a kind of happy wonder in her eyes. He swallowed, shivering under her touch and annoyed that she could move him this way, but solved the problem by tackling her onto the bed. He'd be damned if he was the first one undressed. She squealed in surprise, laughed, and she didn't stop laughing until he got serious with her. Her skin was the softest, smoothest thing he had ever felt.
There was only point when he spoke again, softly, to ease her, but she had only nodded and clenched her eyes shut. After that they didn't speak at all, save what escaped their lips, and that only served to make them shut up and work harder for more such sounds, until the sweat slicking their bodies was the only thing cooling them. He didn't really know what he was doing, and she didn't either, but by her cries, he figured he must have done it well enough. Besides, as she laid across his chest afterward with her head on his shoulder she told him so, and he believed her. He would have believed her if she said the sky was falling. He would have believed anything, done anything for her, but all he did was return the compliment, hold her arm, stroke her back and fall asleep. It seemed to be enough, because when he awoke, she was still there, gazing at him with a smile on her face, propped up on one arm. She had come up with a solution for Dorothy. And then she said that she was sore, and he laughed.
Now she laughed again, even as she had last night, arms around his neck
as he set her back on her feet. He kissed her deeply there on the
streets late at night, and all thoughts of Dorothy or anything else vanished
from his thoughts. But other thoughts replaced them and he broke
their kiss, suddenly wanting to get back to her house as soon as possible.
Every glimpse of her skin made him think of other patches that were hiding
and he wanted to see them again. He could love her forever and never
be satisfied. She caught it in his eyes, growing quiet, and he knew
she would try anyway.
*****
One month later
*****
Relena stopped by Terese's desk and picked up a pamphlet of papers and various mail left for her by her secretary. Terese was on the phone in the other room, probably with Manny again. Relena smiled as she leafed through her mail, but she didn't get all the way through it before Tersese popped out of the room and grabbed her arm with a grin.
"What's going on?" Relena asked in mild amazement.
"Your brother's back with Miss Noin," Terese said, still smiling widely. "They've arrived a day early."
Relena tossed her mail back on Terese's desk and grabbed a sweater-coat from the coat rack, throwing it over her shoulders as she ran behind Terese to the front of the castle.
Zechs stepped out of a limo and helped Noin out behind him, both in Preventor jackets, coming straight from the spaceport.
"Milliardo! Noin!" Relena cried, hugging both of them.
"Relena," Noin said in welcome. Zechs inspected her over Noin's shoulder and smiled.
"You must be tired," Relena said. "Can I offer you anything?"
"Just news," Zechs replied as they went inside. "We've been out of touch for some time. I hear you've been quite busy."
"Yeah," Noin echoed. "What's this whole thing with a Taravren Rebellion? You dated Prince Ravineere?"
Relena smiled. "For a little while," she said.
"I thought for sure you were going to hook up with Heero," Noin half-joked. Zechs said nothing, catching his sister's sudden look.
"I have," Relena said, stopping. They both turned and stared at her.
"Relena," Zechs cautioned.
"How?" Noin interrupted. "It wouldn't seem..."
"It's a long story," she said diplomatically. "Don't worry about it," she added with a smile. "I'm old enough now to make my own decisions. I know it may seem strange to you, but I've never been happier."
Zechs frowned at her, searching her face, but he said nothing in the end. He wouldn't approve no matter her choice, though she knew he respected Heero. None of that would matter when he found out, and he would find out, but she didn't care. It really didn't matter what he thought. She loved Heero, and he her, and nothing could stop her from expressing that now.
Zechs and Noin retired without much more talking, exhausted from their travels. Relena went back to Terese's desk and found her secretary grinning over a letter ripped from an envelope addressed to her personally. It had Taravren as a return address. Terese caught sight of her coming and flushed to her hairline. "I think you have one too," she said, barely containing some sort of glee.
Relena blinked, and then noticed that the envelope to Terese's letter was sealed with a royal emblem. She stared in confusion before picking up the pile she had discarded earlier. She flipped through the stack of bills and invites until she found it, a thick envelope addressed to Relena Darilan from Damion Ravineere, Prince of Taravren.
"Thanks, Terese," she said, absorbed in staring at the letter. "I'm going to go home for a little bit."
She opened the envelope as she walked back to her house, hoping Heero
was still in bed. Sometimes he got up early and sometimes he slept
in, depending whether or not the Preventors requested his presence and
what they had done the night before. She grinned as she withdrew
the letter and unfolded it. She stopped in the street just
outside her door to read.
Relena Darilan and Heero Yuy,
Excuse me for excluding Heero's name on the envelope. I didn't want to confuse the address and I wanted you to read this first. I am afraid I have a lot to say and no real plan as to how to go about it. I think it most important that you know that my wish for your happiness with Heero still stands, though I do regret losing you in a nostalgic, wistful sort of way. Even with that I think I am getting over you. Don't get too depressed, my dear; remember, you started it. I would also like to confess that I have made a terrible mistake, or rather an oversight, and I hope you will forgive me. If I had known the error I was making--and I feel a fool for making it--I would have made you that promise you wanted so desperately ere you departed from my home. But how was I to know? It might ease your mind now to hear that I have indeed had a change of heart. I had lost my faith in God and love and happiness in life, but I have reclaimed all three. I believe in love again, or rather, I am sure it is real. Don't grow too excited; I have not met someone elese. The cure to my tangled ideology was mere contemplation, and so obvious I had to have been blind to ever doubt. I told you I used to pray to God to show me true love existed and had grown bitter when it was denied me, but my lamentations were without warrent. I have been shown love; I was just too blind and self-involved to notice. It took a little time to realize it with my thoughts so full of my loss of you, the tragedy of Clara and the truth of my parent's marriage, but if love was the sight I asked for, there is no more beautiful picture than what took place beneath the Wing Zero that fateful day. So I confess that I am not only a fool, but a selfish and impatient one. I saw love and grew bitter because it was not mine, and that is a very childish reaction. Thus I have since sworn faith and patience. It would seem that God works in mysterious ways, for if I had never interfered, that scene that now inspired me may never have taken place, and that would have been a real loss for everybody. It was never certain afterall that you and I would work together. My parents seemed to think it wouldn't and maybe they were right, but whatever their thoughts, I have reconciled with them, and my mother is much relieved. I am certain you are too. Their love is real, by the way. I see that now, though it would it was not always so. Either way, it gives me hope, and I will wait patiently for the girl that will bring me the kind of happiness that I'm sure you bring to Heero. Which reminds me: Tell him when you see him (as I'm sure you frequently do) that he had better keep his word, and also that he should know better than to believe he can control everything. Obviously, none of us have been very good at that, despite our professed powers. At any rate, I believe that there was a design that you and he be together, and rather than entangling that design, I think I played a part in it. If that seems silly to you, please just humor me. It will soothe my feelings. You and Heero are certainly welcome any time in Taravren, as well as all your friends and relations. It would be a blessing to have such brave and honest friends stop through from time to time, especially Vice Foreign Ministers and Gundam Pilots.
All my best wishes and love,
Damion Ravineere
PS: I have taken the liberty of offering your charming secretary
a better salary and a new job here in Taravren, plane tickets and living
establishments included. I hope this doesn't infuriate you too much,
but as I believe we have spoken of before, I have lots of money and few
honest friends. Besides, Manny put me up to it and you should know
that I can't refuse.
Relena bit her lip with a smile as she folded up the letter and clutched it in her hands. Racing to her door, she flung it open and hurried inside and up the stairs to her bedroom.
"Heero!" she called. "I've a letter for you! You must read it!"
She heard him moving about in her room and, opening the door, walked across the floor and crawled up on the bed beside him. Only half dressed, he caught hold of her and took the letter from her hand. She stretched out on his left side and laid her head on his shoulder, watching him read, her fingers playing absently with his hair.
Heero lowered the letter and smiled at her. "Do you think Terese will go?" he asked her.
"I think she's already packed," Relena replied. "What do you think of the rest?"
He nodded, the kindness on his face capturing his heart. "It's good," he said. "I'm glad."
She sighed and laid her head on his bare chest, tracing patterns on his stomach with her fingers. "If we were meant to be, why did it take us so long?"
"Why didn't you kiss me back... that one day?" he asked quietly.
She started, looking up at his face. "Heero," she breathed, love for him sprouting anew. That did mean something. "You surprised me. I'd never been kissed before. And it was you."
"I was your first kiss?" he said in wonder.
"You're my first everything," she told him in a murmur, and closed her eyes so she could listen to his heart beat. "By the way," she added. "My brother's back."
Heero swore and then laughed. "Am I going to have to fight him
for you too?"
~The End~
Sequel: Temper the Soul