Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Matter of Good Sense -- Revised ❯ Dread ( Chapter 2 )

A Matter of Good Sense

by Michalyn

Glossary
Saturnum: male spinsterhood

Chapter Two

"Odd isn't it, that Prince Wufei isn't up already? It's almost noon. He's usually awake before the sun."

"Mmm hmm. I thought it strange too. I suppose it has something to do with the news ...."

Quatre was on his way to Wufei's chambers when he caught his brother's name amidst the murmur of conversation. Pausing behind one of the solar's large, stone pillars, he saw the familiar figures of Duke Sinstin and Lord Haynses. Both men were minor land-holders in the kingdom, and were fairly popular at the court. Like most of their peers, they were idle and spent most of their time concocting stories about those outside their social circle. Now, clearly thinking themselves alone, they lounged in the sun like two fat cats, their voices ringing across the room.

"News?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Ahh, just the most delicious tidbit ever. I've been around this court for a long time and nothing this exciting has happened before. I don't know how you haven't heard -- everyone's talking about it!"

"Come on, man don't be a tease. Enlighten me."

"Reliable sources have it that the dark prince is betrothed."

"What? This must be some kind of joke. Prince Wufei, betrothed -- impossible! He's next in line to be master of the temple. Shinsen O has been preparing him for years."

"That's what makes it all the more delectable. After his sixteenth sun cycle passed without an offer, I for one, was sure the case was hopeless -- after all, who would really want to marry such an odd little fellow."

"Come on, he's not that bad."

"Don't tell me you're interested! Heh, are you the lucky man?

"Of course not! I was just saying ... you know...."

"Humph! Anyway, it seems King Zechs finally stopped indulging his pet. I hear the little newt is to be married immediately."

"Immediately? Are you certain? It hardly seems like the King to be so hasty."

"Well, if you were his father, wouldn't you want to get him off your hands as soon as possible? I'm sure King Zechs must have offered a tidy sum to convince whoever the poor sop is to request the bond."

"Hmm ... perhaps.... I wonder who it could be."

"Me too. Since our little prince was firmly on the path to Saturnum*, however, I doubt it would be anyone of note. All the good ones are snatched up right away. Remember how many offers Prince Quatre received -- some even before his majority! No lord worth his salt would be interested in a mate so late after the fact. I'm sure it's some petty, no name--"

"So it is a kalan mating then?"

"Yes! And isn't that the icing on the cake? Can you imagine? I thought for sure Mr. Prim and Proper would be of the other persuasion."

"I suppose. I'd never thought of it before, but now that you mention it; it does seem surprising. Prince Wufei's not bad, but -- brr -- I wouldn't want such an icy partner."

"'Brr' is more than right, my man. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in that bedchamber! Just picture it: First of all, seeing that scrawny little body nak--"

"Gentlemen, I'm so glad to see you keeping productively occupied."

"P--Prince Quatre!'

"Lord Sinstin, Duke Haynses," Quatre's lips thinned and his fingers tightened around the parcel tucked under his arm, "I trust your day is going well?"

Never his favorite on a good day, Quatre had overheard enough of their talk to be disgusted. He was just grateful Wufei would not hear it. As stoic as his brother pretended to be, Quatre knew Wufei was sensitive to what others thought of him, and the courtiers' barbs pained him. He could not separate himself from their mean-spirited talk and often saw it as a reflection of some failure on his part. No matter how Quatre tried to convince him otherwise, Wufei did not listen. He only retreated more tightly into himself.

"Yes ... yes, milord," Haynses wiped a suddenly moist brow, "a--and you?"

Quatre smiled. "Quite well, thank you." He raised an eyebrow. "Lord Sinstin, are you unwell? You've become rather quiet."

"Ah ... n-no, not at all, your highness," Sinstin suddenly produced a pocket-watch from the folds of his robe. "Oh dear, I'm late for my ... meeting! I'm so sorry Prince Quatre, but I must leave right away."

Coward.

Quatre shook his head. "Of course," he turned to Haynses, "I assume you have the same appointment?"

"Me?" Haynses' eyes met Sinstin's. "Oh ...! Yes, I do!" He bowed quickly. "Excuse me, milord. Sinstin, wait! I'm right behind you...."

Quatre watched the two men scurrying away and he sighed. Holding his present close to his chest, he turned to mount the steps to Wufei's room. The runes in his pocket burned and Quatre hoped, by all that was sacred that he was right. He could not stand it if this Trey of Rossetti took his brother away, only to transplant him among an even crueler court. Quatre pressed his palm against the old stones and fragments of the vision returned to him: A dragon imprisoned in darkness ... the lush heart of a rose ... a passion so intense that it made him tremble ... and the midnight orchids endlessly blooming.... Quatre shuddered. He prayed he was not leading his brother astray.

"Wufei?" he rapped on the door. There was no response. "Fei, are you in there?" Quatre cautiously turned the knob. He peered inside the room, "Wufei?"

"--away!" his brother's muffled voice floated from under the pillows where his head was buried. Wufei was curled into a little ball, amidst a mess of tangled sheets -- and equally tangled hair. He was still in his pajamas, and his robes lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. They alone were evidence enough of his brother's distress: Wufei revered order, and his quarters were usually spotless.

It would have been enough, but it was not. Like most seers, Quatre was empathic and now, the jumbled waves of fear, betrayal, confusion -- and just pure, unadulterated pain -- radiating off his brother were enough to make him stagger. His shields always came out a bit battered when he dealt with Wufei, because his brother felt so intensely, but never like this. Quatre swayed and fought to catch his breath. "Wufei-" he steadied himself and tried again, "Fei-love, l just want to talk."

A messy head emerged from the pillows. One dark eye peeked open and then the other. Wufei glared. "Don't call me that!"

Ah, there was life in there after all! Laughing, Quatre hurried to his brother's side. He placed the parcel on the bed, "For you, brother."

Wufei sat up, his loose hair a dark curtain around him. He eyed the box suspiciously but made no move to open it. Wufei scowled. "Why did you bring this? You know I hate surprises."

"Move over ... come on, don't be such a spoilsport--" Quatre jostled Wufei until they were seated in the bed together. He smiled. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Wufei's eyes were daggers. "Don't think you can fool me with this act. I know you know. Father must have told you. What do you want?"

Quatre sighed. He saw Wufei's rumpled head, his trembling hands, his tight nervous expression and a rush of sympathy filled him. Sympathy -- and terrible, terrible guilt... It was under his advice their father was doing this. Despite all King Zechs' misgivings and all his pain, he had put his faith in Quatre's gift: in the vision that had promised Wufei's rebirth to happiness. Quatre worried his lip. What if he was wrong? Had he misread the runes? How could he be sure?

Quatre gave Wufei a quick hug. "It's all right, Fei. I know this seems impossible right now, but just ... just ... trust me."

Wufei's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Is there something about this proposal you're not telling me?"

"No...," Quatre looked away. He twisted a bit of the sheet about his fingers. "I just meant--" Quatre took his brother's hand. "Wufei, I know this is difficult and you have every reason to be scared, but--"

"I am not afraid!" Wufei ground between clenched teeth. He snatched his hand away. "Why would you even think it?"

"Wufei, you don't have to hide. I know you're hurting." Quatre pressed his hand to his heart. "I can feel it here."

Wufei hunched his shoulders. Always suspicious of Quatre's gift, he looked at him now, with dark, accusing eyes. "How dare you?" Wufei's voice was so low Quatre barely understood him. He leaned forward, ducking behind the shield of his hair. "What right have you to pry into my feelings?" Wufei's eyes flashed. "How dare you!"

Quatre flinched. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to ... I just ... I only want to help you, Fei." He placed Wufei's gift, soft and heavy in the rustling paper, in his brother's lap. "Please, will you accept this from me?"

Wufei's eyes were red-rimmed and bright with moisture. He gingerly fingered the edge of the paper. "What is it?"

"The only way to find out is to open it, no?"

Wufei made a disgusted sound, but he began to peel the wrapping away until a delicate, rose-petal red robe lay across his thighs. The diaphanous fabric was intricately embroidered, with shimmering gold shot through its high collar and billowing sleeves and dotted through each of the tiny, carefully-wrought clasps that trailed to its gilded hem. The pattern swirled across the garment in masculine curves that contrasted sharply with the gauziness of the material, giving it an appearance of both boldness and fragility. It was a uniquely beautiful creation, made with obvious love.

The nylah robes were all crafted under the direction of Eires' priests and most powerful seers. Often taking as many as three months to make, the robes were an important part of a bonding ceremony. Nylah were made to reflect each partner's kinah, or true essence and therefore much care was taken in their production. Most important, the priests were never wrong. The styles and colors chosen were the physical manifestation of the kinah, so as to heighten and emphasize the essence of each partner. This ensured the melding of the essences and intensified the act of the bond. In general, the more closely the robes complemented each other, the more powerful and lasting was the bond.

No two Eireans ever received the same robe, though certain hues had specific connotations. The ivory robe was usually the mark of a stoic and practical nature, the black, of the two faces of the noon child and Quatre's shifting aqua robes had represented the essence of a pure and powerful intuition.

Wufei said nothing. He merely clutched at the cloth spread between them. Silken tufts of red and gold glinted between his clenched fingers and Quatre tensed, fearing for the integrity of the material.

Wufei stared at the nylah across his thighs and his fists tightened. Hot color built in his cheeks.

Rich, tumultuous red: an intense and earthly sensuality.

Quatre grinned. "Do you like it, brother? I hoped to give it to you on your sixteenth cycle, but when you did not choose a consort, I despaired of you ever using it." Quatre squeezed Wufei's hand,"I'm glad I was wrong." He heard the fierceness in his voice, and he prayed Wufei would believe in it too. "So? What do you think?"

Wufei flung the robe away from him as if it burned. He rose from the bed in a storm of agitation. "I cannot wear this!" Wufei hissed. He jabbed a finger in the direction of the robe. "I--I refuse!"

Quatre frowned. "It matters little whether you accept or reject the nylah. It simply is." He looked into Wufei's eyes. "Denying it is as futile as denying your own nature."

Wufei's eyes hardened. When he stubbornly turned away Quatre sighed. He pressed a hand to his brother's shoulder as he rose from the bed. "Wufei, allow me to pack the nylah in the event you change your mind."

"I won't--"

"Please brother, allow me this gift."

"But I don't need...."

"I'm asking just this one thing, Wufei. Will you shun my blessing?"

Wufei's shoulders slumped, "All right."

Quatre smiled. "Thank you, Fei."

There was so much more he wanted to speak of, but Quatre knew he had already asked too much of his brother. He had known it would be a battle to convince Wufei, and so was content instead, to choose his victories. He looked to the bright red nylah, flung out like a fan on the bed. This was most important. It was enough.

Quatre gathered up the crumpled wrapping. "Shall I send Trowa up?"

Wufei slunk back down into the covers. He curled his knees to his chest. " If he wishes...."

"He does."

"Be strong, my brother." Quatre pressed a quick kiss to Wufei's cheek. He hurried out the door, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. He would try to do the same.

**

Wufei rolled over on the mattress and followed a pair of buckskin-clad legs up to Trowa's face. His best friend in turn peered down at him with disapproval.

"Aren't you going to get up and wash?"

Wufei shut his eyes as his head thumped back against the pillow. He decided to sleep in just one day and the entire kingdom had something to say about it. Wufei was sick of these "well-intentioned" lectures. What is it so much to ask to be left in peace? It was not as if he was actually needed downstairs. Wufei's mouth tightened bitterly. Now that he was to become the 'gushing bride' he was as good as obsolete in the palace.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters," Trowa yanked the sheets from the bed and began to fold them, "because Rossetti should be arriving soon."

Wufei scowled at being so unceremoniously roused. He sat up. "I fail to see what all the excitement is about. I will treat this as I would any other meeting. There was really no need to come." Wufei pushed back his hair. "Don't your animals need feeding or healing -- or something?"

"This is hardly 'any other meeting' and you know it." Trowa said in his quiet tones. Wufei watched as his best friend rummaged through his closet. Trowa turned and tossed him an outfit. "What about this?"

Wufei balked,"The white silk? Don't be ridiculous. It's far too extravagant."

Trowa frowned "Yes, the white silk -- and what's extravagant about it? There's only this bit of silver trim around the cuffs and at the hem." He raised the robe to demonstrate his point. "Simple: good, clean lines...."

"Humph."

"Wonderful," Trowa shook out the robe, smoothing down the folds and plucking for idle threads with nimble, sun-browned fingers -- healer's fingers used to searching among berries and shoots for secret cures. Bright, copper hairs glinted off Trowa's forearms as he raised Wufei's robe to the light and examined it critically. "This should do quite well, I think."

Wufei grunted, simply watching him. He knew he was the palace oddity, but he was always struck at what a startling picture Trowa made with his green eyes and abundance of thick, red-brown hair. Wufei's mouth quirked in a sad smile. They were both very different in their own ways. Perhaps that was what first drew them to each other whether they had recognized it or not....

What would life be now without his best friend at his side? Wufei preferred not to think on it.

"I'm sure it's fine, Trowa. Just set it aside. I will wear it."

"Wufei...."

"I don't wish to discuss it, Trowa."

"That is exactly why we must speak of it."

"No."

"Must we say goodbye like this then?" Trowa's eyes were shielded by his long bangs, "Like strangers?"

"No," Wufei sighed. "Forgive me. I just --" he turned desperately to Trowa, " Not now. It's too soon."

"All right," Trowa nodded. "What would you have me do?"

Pointing to the glimmering white robe, Wufei gave his friend a shaky smile. "Help me get dressed?"

Warmth flared in Trowa's eyes. He grinned, "Of course."