Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Unspoken ❯ Chapter 5

Unspoken:

Book I of the Lost Love Arc

Chapter Five

 

Fandom: Sailor Moon/Gundam Wing

Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance

Pairing: Hotaru/Duo

Rating: X/NC-17

 

Summary: Set during the Silver Millennium, Unspoken is a tale of duty, devotion, and loss—and, of course, unrequited love.

 

*

 

Hotaru spent the next two days following her father's death buried under a heap of blankets, so deeply under the influence of sedatives that she barely rose to use the restroom. Her hair remained an untamed mess, her skin supposedly paler than usual. Not that anyone said anything, for the only witness to Hotaru's appearance those days was Maxine. Not even the physicians were allowed to dose her in person—Maxine took care of it all.

 

And while Maxine was busy tending to the princess, the chancellor was busy making the funeral arrangements. Thankfully, the old king had left a document dictating how he would like his funeral—the only thing the chancellor really needed to do was make out the guest list according to who the king's personal friends were, his political allies, and those it was merely prudent to invite.

 

Finally, three days after the old king's death, Hotaru woke from her last sedation.

 

*

 

She sat calmly, stiffly, at her vanity table as Maxine carefully wound her stick-straight hair into a modest twist—what would, hundreds of years from that time, be called a French twist. It looked elegant and simplistic, but Hotaru knew that was just an illusion. It took Maxine at least twenty minutes to get each hair in place, making sure it stayed with pomade.

 

At the same time, the princess artfully applied the make-ups that Maxine would insist upon, making sure it looked elegant, stately, and understated. `My father is dead,' the heiress thought to herself, and with it came a bone-deep numbness. The world appeared a paler place in accordance to this emotion, or lack thereof.

 

Never again would she sit at her father's side while he pored over documents in his study, enduring stern lectures on the importance of economics, alliances, and traditions. His voice—deep and cultured, tinged with whatever emotion he felt—was already beginning to fade in memory. Or was it the lingering sedatives in her bloodstream?

 

No matter.

 

Her father was dead.

 

Nothing mattered anymore except for duty and obligation.

 

The order was so ingrained in her it was not a surprise this was what she fell back on in times of stress.

 

The gown Hotaru had apathetically donned was simple and black. The sleeves were a modest three-quarter length which matched the elegance of the boat neckline. From there, it was a simple sheath, the skirt flaring slightly from the knee down. It was an appropriate mourning gown. To complement it, Maxine had laid out a pair of black shoes with a slight heel on them.

 

The make-up application was finished, as was her hair. When had that happened? The princess was losing track of time; not good. Maxine was settling her mother's necklace of black pearls on her, to match the black pearl earrings.

 

She looked like her mother—delicately beautiful—and like her father—infinitely sad.

 

“Come now, Hotaru, you must put on a brave face,” the maidservant chided, her voice also sad and gentle. Maxine's calloused fingertips were gentle as they slid underneath her chin, tilting her head up regally. “You are the queen now, coronated or not. Your father would tell you that you must act accordingly.”

 

“Am I not even allowed my grief?” Her own voice startled her—it sounded the same as always. Shouldn't it be different now? Reflect the infinite loss in her world? “Of course you are allowed it,” Maxine replied, “But it must be kept on the inside. You have a service to attend now, milady. I've heard that guests are gathering already.”

 

“Yes…I must go play the hostess now. Act like it is not my father we are about to burn on pyre,” the princess responded, her voice bitter. Duty. Obligation. These were the components of her life.

 

Hotaru rose from her seat gracefully, stunned at the vision reflected in the mirror. This was to be the face of a queen? She looked so young…but felt so very old indeed. “I will see myself out to the garden.” Her mother's garden, the same locale a wedding was to take place in four—really? Only four?—days.

 

Without looking back or waiting for a response, the princess glided out of her quarters and down the hall, a slim, straight-backed figure with her head held high. A ghost-like silence permeated the castle—they all mourned, she reminded herself.

 

*

 

Duo watched as the princess—his fiancée, he mentally corrected—walked out of the castle unguarded. With so many nobles from all over the alliance it was an incredibly unwise decision—then he remembered watching the princesses of Saturn and Jupiter spar, and figured she could more than handle herself. She looked very tiny and the unforgiving darkness of her gown made her seem paler than usual.

 

The look on her face though, that was formidable—she reeked of arrogance, her entire body screaming `just try it, asshole.' Even without a crown on her head, Hotaru was a queen—no wonder his parents were practically squirming in their seats. This—this small woman who carried herself like she was ten feet tall—was going to be their daughter-in-law. How positively exciting; something to jabber with the ladies of his mother's bridge club.

 

As Princess Hotaru slowly made her way to the front of the rows, stopping at every cluster of people to exchange greetings and salutations and receive their sympathies, his mother fidgeted in her seat; eager to load the princess with her own carefully worded condolences. They'd been granted a seat near the front—his status as Hotaru's betrothed granted him the right and privilege. The princess herself would sit in the front row, alone. She was the only living kin of the king.

 

Finally, she was near them, and Duo watched his mother leap from her chair. “Oh, Princess, we're so sorry—“

 

“Terribly sorry,” his father interrupted smoothly as he rose from his own seat. He gently disentangled his wife's hands from Hotaru's—no, she didn't seem like the touchy-feely type, did she?

 

“—for your loss. Your father was a great king, and we'll all miss him dearly,” his mother concluded. The princess gave a wan smile and nodded. “Thank you for your kind words. It is a difficult time for us all; his loss is felt across the system. I assume you'll simply be staying here until the wedding?”

 

“You mean,” his mother gasped, “You're not postponing it?”

 

Duo watched as the princess shrugged one elegant shoulder and looked at him—the first eye contact she'd made with him thus far—with an eyebrow raised. He understood immediately what was in that look for some reason, and he nodded slowly—she was right, they couldn't afford to postpone the event. Looking back to his mother and father, Hotaru maintained her small smile. “No, of course not. That would be silly. I don't believe in wasting my efforts and a lot of preparation went into planning the wedding—I'd rather we forge ahead on schedule.”

 

“Makes sense to me, as well,” his father put in before Duo's mother could say anything. Hotaru bowed slightly—Duo assumed the habit came from being one of the sailor senshi; one can't exactly curtsy in their uniform—and excused herself with, “If you'll excuse me, I should greet my betrothed now.”

 

Duo, listening carefully, understood the cue. He rose gracefully, a welcoming smile on his features—he was an excellent actor when he applied himself—as he watched Hotaru glide forwards. A smile of equal worth graced her countenance. To an outside observer they would look like two young people in the beginnings of like, but if one were skilled enough to read the look in their eyes, they would know there was no warmth between them; perhaps a grudging respect, a mutual understanding.

 

Hotaru's fingertips glided over his outstretched palms, hands lightly resting on his. They were surprisingly warm despite their pale-as-ivory appearance. He noted the calluses on her hands from handling her huge weapon, the silence glaive—a woman who knew work. The look in her eyes was a warning—`make it look good, prince,' he could almost hear her say. A slight pressure on his hands; Hotaru was standing on tiptoe, compensating for their height difference. In an effort to help, he leaned down slightly and had the complete and utter shock of feeling her lips buss a quick kiss on his cheek. Duo was infinitely glad that no one could see his expression just then for he was sure he looked as shocked as he'd felt. But he recovered quickly, returning the intimate gesture.

 

To the public—and Duo reminded himself that's who the benefit of the show was for—they looked like a couple now, and the rumors would begin to fly that, indeed, Saturn's throne would be in good, steady hands. It was an official statement that the kingdom was secure, thereby discouraging any lesser nobles of ideas about rebellion and takeovers. The gesture itself was a symbol of that, and it was innocent enough to engage in public. They'd just made their first statement as king and queen, Duo realized.

 

The princess drew back then, her smile a bit wider than before, eyes twinkling with merciless amusement—she knew she'd caught him off-guard, damn it. “Prince Duo, it is lovely to see you once more. I'm pleased that you could make it on such short notice.”

 

“It was only a few days ahead of schedule,” Duo responded smoothly, “Nothing of an inconvenience.” The princess let her eyes flicker off to the side briefly—she was watching Queen Serenity have a seat with her daughters in tow. Her attention returned with a snap one second later.

 

“Very good. If you'll excuse me then, I have to take my seat.” The princess leaned very close then, making sure his body would hide her mouth—and words—from others and whispered, “After the service, if you'll meet me in my—in the study upstairs, I'd like to speak with you. I know you haven't been very involved in the wedding plans, but I've had to make some last-minute changes. I'd like to discuss them with you.”

 

What she really meant to say was, `I assume it's my duty to inform you of your requirements during this little fiasco.' Duo nodded, his face carefully empty of reaction, except for his small smile. Let them think they were exchanging endearments. He turned his head so his words were whispered in her ear. “The same one we had our little tete a tete in last time?”

 

“Yes,” Hotaru said and pulled away, removing herself from his presence and gliding towards the empty front row. It was only as her hands trailed once more over his that Duo noticed they'd been touching the entire time.

 

*

 

Hotaru settled into her seat, ignoring with ease the stage-whispered speculations around her. Let them talk; spread the gossip. That was her exact aim: to make them think she and Duo liked each other—to begin their public façade of a united front. To secure the throne. It was duty. It was obligation. It was her life.

 

The ceremony began promptly at the designated time as the high priest of the Death Temple stood behind the podium. The princess' attention was elsewhere though—focused on the funeral pyre behind the old man, on which rested her father's corpse. His soul had left with the Shinigami's, ushered into the realm of the dead. It was merely an empty shell now, a symbol of his former existence.

 

The priest was motioning to her—she was supposed to say a few words now, wasn't she? Had they already gotten that far? You mean, she had completely missed the opening greetings, two prayers, and a monologue? Wow, she was certainly out of it.

 

Gracefully, Hotaru rose and took the podium, thanking the high priest as she did so. Looking out on all the faces gathered, she picked out her father's closest friends and decided to speak for their benefit. The paper in front of her already contained a pre-written speech, of course—the chancellor had certainly been busy these past two days. But to simply read something he'd wrote like a puppet would be…letting him assert dominance over her, and no one controlled what the future queen said, did, or thought. Except for duty and obligation.

 

Subtly clearing her thought, she began to speak. “Thank you all for coming today, gathering to mourn the loss of my father and celebrating his next step in the cycle. Destruction, death, and rebirth… As you all know, our lives are merely a never-ending journey—our bodies, they may die, but our souls continue on, as do the memories we create in each lifetime.

 

“My father created a good deal of memories with each person present, and through those he will maintain to live as we knew him in this lifetime. His soul, though…that I wish peace and good luck upon, for who knows what his next step in the cycle will lead him to?

 

“But let us give ourselves some closure and pay homage to his lifecycle. After all, that is why we've gathered…” With no expression on her face, and with a leaden heart, Hotaru picked up the torch and laid it to the alcohol-laden pyre, saying a silent prayer to the death deities. The fire flew up so quickly, it amazed her. She hardly noticed when the high priest pulled her back a few paces, fearing she would catch on fire as well.

 

Handing the torch back to the priest, Hotaru returned to her seat, and he continued with the service. But the princess' focus remained on the burning pyre in the background as she prayed continuously, being careful to maintain her regal bearing. She became lost in the dance of flames, the smell of burning flesh and alcohol.

 

If it weren't for a gentle tap from someone, Hotaru wouldn't have even known the service was over.

 

*

 

“I see you found your way.”

 

The voice was cool and amused, and Hotaru strived painfully to keep it that way. Her face, however, was somber underneath its fragile veneer of blankness. Sitting behind what used to be her father's desk, in what used to be her father's chair, she'd had a distinct vantage point with which to spot the soundless opening of the door to the study.

 

It was quite impressive, the way the prince had moved so silently. For the princess knew that the door's hinges were not oiled as often as they should be. After all, the castle was a big place—it was difficult for the cleaning staff to keep up on all parts of it.

 

As Hotaru eyed her future husband, he smiled back, unperturbed by her scrutiny. “Yeah,” he said cheerfully, flopping gracelessly into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “It was touch and go for a minute there, but I remembered the painting of the stuffy-looking old guy.”

 

“You mean my great-grandfather?” Hotaru responded, her voice cool with a slight affront to it. Duo winced noticeably. “Yeah, him…”

 

“So, you wanted to speak to me, babe?” The prince obviously wanted to change the subject before he dug himself a deeper hole, and Hotaru found herself hiding a small smirk behind her hand for a mere instant. The expression passed without embarrassing its owner. “Never again use a pet-name with me, Prince Duo. I'm not one of your twits, and I do take offense to the term `babe'. Do I look like a squalling infant to you?” The question was, of course, rhetorical, and she waved away the indigo-eyed prince's answer before he could even begin stuttering it out with an impatient hand.

 

“Regardless of that, yes, I did wish to speak to you. As you may be aware, my father's death was quite untimely with the wedding a mere four days away. Due to this our kingdom is currently ruler-less, and despite my dear father's assurances, I do not quite trust the chancellor to make political decisions on his own.” Duo wisely chose not to ask why that was—at least he wasn't completely stupid.

 

“In light of this,” Hotaru continued, subconsciously rolling an ink pen back and forth underneath the palm of her flattened hand. It made a loud continuous thunking noise on the solid wood of the desktop. “I've decided to step up the coronation and deification to the day of the wedding. I just wanted you to be aware of this fact. I'm already in the process of contacting the high priest of the Death Temple and getting him to do the coronation before the deification—he's an impartial figure, people like and respect him.

 

“There won't be any whispers about him doing the coronation as opposed to, say, the chancellor or Queen Serenity. The chancellor, of course, is too socially beneath our station to be given the power to do so. If Queen Serenity were to do so, people might murmur about Saturn becoming subservient to the will of Queen Serenity.” Not that they weren't there already. But just because Hotaru was a member of the Queen's Alliance Guard did not mean she could also serve independently as queen of her own kingdom. In the Alliance, no one was beneath anyone else—they'd just elected Queen Serenity to be the sort-of chairperson.

 

Duo was frowning now, the serious expression actually making him look more attractive. Of course, Hotaru promptly flayed herself for even thinking such thoughts. “So, what you're saying is that we'll be getting married, coronated, and deified all in one go. Wow, that's kind of a lot to handle at once, don't you think, princess?”

 

She shrugged, a casual roll of shoulders that did nothing to expose her own nervousness on the enormity of it all. “It's our duty. I'm eager to establish our reign and halt any…nay-sayers in their path, before they can really get started. Do you understand what I mean?”

 

The Prince of Janus nodded carefully, his indigo eyes thoughtful. “You seem to have given it a lot of thought. Yes, we've got to halt any whispers of unrest before they turn to murmurs and then to outright screams. Give them a stable royal pair to rule…It makes sense. I just never imagined I'd be becoming husband, king, and god all in a few hours.”

 

Since Duo had shared his own misgivings on the matter, Hotaru assumed it was tit for tat and nodded her understanding. “I understand all too well, but…duty and obligation must always come before your own personal feelings. My father stressed that point to me over the last year. It's sound advice and I intend to follow it.”

 

The prince gave her a wan smile before saying, “But don't you ever get tired of sacrificing little pieces of yourself to everyone else?” Violet eyes measured him for a long moment before the princess responded. “We've not even begun to sacrifice yet, prince. Lucky for you, you've got decades of sacrifice to look forward to—unless you want to take the easy way out and off yourself once I get pregnant?”

 

“Not a chance, princess,” Duo shot back, a sneer on his face. She shook her head, thick black bangs covering her eyes momentarily. “Ah, well, it was worth a shot.” With that, Hotaru carefully scooted back her chair and stood up, a small grin in place. “Is your family planning on staying here until the wedding? I kind of already mentioned the idea to your mother…”

 

He nodded, his thick braid moving like a living thing as he too stood. “We have rooms at an inn nearby.” Hotaru shrugged one thin shoulder, gliding slowly towards the door. “You may stay at the palace, should you choose. Convenient location and all—and we won't even charge you rent money.” Smiling, Duo moved to intercept her, a hand on the doorknob. “We'll consider it,” he said, and opened the door for her, “Now, I believe we've got a reception to get back to.”

 

“Unfortunately,” Hotaru responded, her voice dry as she prepared to don her public mask once more. Perhaps she and Marle could sneak off for a bit…Otherwise, she'd surely go mad receiving condolences once more. Her father was dead. She was about to be married to an irresponsible, unreliable womanizer. No amount of apologies was going to change those facts.

 

*

 

TBC…