Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cynehelme ❯ Chapter 12 ( Chapter 12 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

OK, a little plug now for a story I am writing together with Iris Anthe and Goldberry called 'The Maids of Silva' We would love to hear what you think of it so far so please have a look if you have the time ^^

Many, many thanks for all your kind reviews for the last chapter ^^ I hope you all enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think!

Cynehelme

by kmf

Rating: PG13 Warnings: AU Standard Disclaimer applies

Chapter Twelve

Relena had been alerted to her surroundings by Heero's warning breathed in her ear.

"We have arrived."

His voice had been unusually soft, but tired and thin. That he was exhausted was not surprising; he had been denied sleep due to his mission of trying to find her. He could not have slept or rested in over two days and a night. During their mad ride they had only stopped on four occasions in order to rest the horse and ease numbness from their own legs. He had been alert to danger each time they stopped, his hand never moving far from his sword, eyes narrowed and ears alert.

She had been more fortunate. She had been able to rest assured that their safety was in the capable hands of Heero, although her frequent bouts of coughing were becoming more than troublesome; they were becoming painful. So long as she remained upright she was fine, but when Heero insisted that she lie down and sleep during one of their rest, her chest would tighten and she would become short of breath.

Instead, she rested as they rode, her eyes closing although sleep proved evasive. Her mind was busy considering who Dorothy turned out to be; Treize's cousin and ally. Although she had never fully trusted Dorothy, rightfully as it turned out, Relena could not help feel sad at the girl's ulterior motive. All the whispered hints and innuendoes had been a means to an end; to encourage Relena to turn to Trieze when the moment came.

It was disconcerting to feel so used, although the realist in Relena told her that she ought to get used to it. She was, after all, heir to the High King's throne and it would be her fate for people to try and use her to gain what they needed. And that probably included King Odin, Heero and Duo.

Her musings had continued along this vein as they rode forcing her into wakefulness and preventing her from relaxing in Heero's warm embrace as she had done before when he rode with her. He had already confirmed to her that should the King of Mercia wish to wed her, then he would not object. And the grim look on his face she caught as they rode only confirmed to her that he had no regard for her other than that she was a distinct nuisance.

Relena felt great sadness over this. She had no real knowledge of relationships between men and women due to her sheltered upbringing in the nunnery, but she did recognise that she felt something towards the young prince. Fascination, perhaps. Gratitude for rescuing her twice, undoubtedly. The stirrings of love? Was it love that made a strange hotness in her abdomen bloom whenever he touched her? Was it love that made his eyes so compelling and attractive? Was it love that made her want to make all the worries and cares disappear from his face?

Questions such as these flew around her head as they rode, until he bent his head down to hers and breathed the words into her ear.

...we have arrived....

Journeys end had come and Relena opened her eyes to see that they had arrived at what appeared to be a fortress. Standing high on a hill a series of buildings stood defended by a number of earth works. Great ditches had been cut into the hill, encircling it so that the only easy approach was the one they came by. A small wooden bridge spanned the ditch and Relena knew that if the fortress needed to be defended, the bridge would be destroyed.

The earth from the ditch had been piled up high in the past so that it would be difficult for a man in the bottom of the ditch to climb up towards the summit of the hill. After the mound of earth came a tall wooden fence made of posts that ran again around the buildings inside. Staring up at them as they rode Relena estimated that they were at least twice the height of a man and the tops of the posts had been sharpened into points dulled with a heavy coating of snow. A gate opened in this fence, manned by men who called greetings to Heero and looked with curiosity at Relena.

And then they were inside. It was a large holding, central to it was the main house part of which was distinctively roman. The rectangular front was made of stone complete with pillars, that had been cut from limestone and glowed reddish in the setting of the sun. Relena could see that extensions to either side had been made at a later date from rougher hewn stone such as the small Abbey had been made of.

It was an impressive building, wide and tall. Smaller buildings skirted it, looking humble in comparison, In these servants would live, those who helped maintain the fortress and protect it. Snow covered the ground but from the way the horse's hooves were sounding Relena assumed that the courtyard was cobbled.

As they halted in front of the main building a man from the gate who had jogged beside them, ran up the steps to the large wooden front door. Thrusting it open he called in that the Lord had returned. Instantly people appeared from everywhere, braving the wintry dusk to come out and call greetings to Heero. He dismounted slowly, Relena could see that he was worn, tired and sore from the ride. He nodded to the people assuring that the rest of the war band was safe and well.

"We need a healer." he said "Is the Druid here?"

A shout went up for the healer to come, while Heero again was bombarded with questions. He held his hands up for people to wait and Relena felt frustration at them; could they not see that Heero was almost dead on his feet? One woman pointed to Relena and asked

"Is that her?" amazement tingeing her voice.

Relena huddled deeper in her cloak as many eyes turned up towards her as she sat on the tired horse. Vanity might be a sin, but at that point she wished more than anything that she did not look like a bedraggled beggar. She blushed, lowering her eyes knowing that however regal she looked in the future they would always remember their first sight of her.

The people parted as a man emerged from the front door, his cream cloak pulled around him, a twisted polished stick of willow in his hand as a staff. His dress was different from that of the others; he wore no colours and no woven band edged the bottom of his tunic. His face was clean shaven and youthful, his hair was shorter than the long tied back fashion the other men wore, and was a bright blond colour. His eyes sparkled blue and were wide with an odd mixture of knowledge and innocence. He smiled at Heero and embraced him welcoming him home.

Heero embraced the man in return, slapping his back. When they separated Relena was surprised to see a rare grin brighten Heero's face. It was obvious that these two were close; a cousin maybe or maybe an advisor? Relena pondered until another cough seized her making her huddle over in pain.

When she straightened she saw that she was now once again the centre of attention. The blond man was watching her with kind and concerned eyes, whilst Heero had come near and had raised his hands to help her down off the horses back. She accepted the help and did not resist when Heero continued to hold her when her feet hit the ground. She felt hot and cold at the same time and muzzy with it. She was certain that if he did not offer his support that she would land in an even more undignified heap on the ground.

Heero gestured to the blond man "This is Druid Quatre Winner," he said before introducing her "Relena Peacecraft, heir to the High Kings throne."

A murmur went up amongst the men and women gathered in the snowy courtyard and Relena could well understand their disbelief. She certainly looked like no princess she had ever imagined, and these people were familiar with royalty being in the household of the Prince of Mercia.

However, she tried to retain some dignity and nodded to the young man before her, considering him again. She had, of course, heard of Druids. They were an old fading power, once strong when Britain was a pagan country. Relena had learned in the nunnery that when her father had turned to Christianity at the prompting of his new wife, many people followed his lead including some of the lesser Kings. That was how the Abbey had come into existence; at the behest of the old Queen. Mercia was not one of those to be so easily led, however, and had retained its old gods and teachings. And here before her was one of its priests.

She looked at Quatre with unbridled curiosity. She had heard tales that druids were fierce unkempt men and women indulging in human sacrifice and the worship of trees. Quatre, however, did not look like he would hurt anyone, much less put a person to death in the name of some unnameable god. She blushed as she realised that he was looking at her with as much, if not more, interest.

Then suddenly his eyes had a faraway look to them and she had to resist the urge to look over her shoulder to see if someone was standing close behind her that he was focused on. Then he blinked and was looking once more at her.

"You are the bringer of peace," he said with both certainty and wonder in his voice.

Heero had gripped Relena's arm tighter in the exchange. "To have peace, first you must have war," he said ominously, his voice harsh in the cold air.

Relena could not help herself. Again she coughed, this time her legs feeling weak and shaky with each spasm that rocked her. When she had caught her breath she realised that Heero had encircled her with his arms and was nearly supporting all her weight. She tried to murmur an apology, but Quatre spoke first.

"Bring her inside, the cold does her more ill than good," he said turning and quickly climbing the snowy steps.

Relena made to follow but found Heero would not let her walk. Instead, he gathered her up in his arms slowly following Quatre. He was so fatigued that carrying her was an obvious effort. But as she made to protest he cut her off with a glare that so obviously said 'Be quiet'.

The room they entered through the main door was large and impressive and obviously part of the original roman villa that once had stood on this spot. The floor was covered in rush covered flagstones and Relena felt disappointment that there were no mosaics left as she had heard a lot about their wondrous beauty. The walls were smooth and painted with limestone wash so that they glowed in the light of the candles that illuminated the hall. The candles themselves were a display of wealth, made from wonderfully scented but expensive beeswax. Not one smoky rushlight was used to bring light to this hall.

Along the edges of the hall were long tables and benches that were probably used in times of feasting. At one end a large fire blazed in a stone hearth, vented by a large stone chimney. This was no cooking fire, no irons or hooks graced it. This was purely for decoration and warmth; another sign of wealth.

Relena absently wondered where the kitchens were as Heero walked steadily towards the fire. A woman rushed up with a low three-legged stool that she placed close to the fire and upon this Heero deposited her. Relena could not suppress the sigh of contentment that escaped her lips as the warmth of the fire started to warm her through.

Heero also had a small smile on his lips as he took his gloves off and held his hands out to the warming blaze. Another woman appeared and handed both Relena and Heero wood lined copper tankards filled with what appeared to be mulled mead. Relena sipped the hot liquid gratefully and sighed again as the heavily spiced mixture hit her palate. She could detect rare cinnamon in the mix, and instantly a long forgotten memory of sitting in front of a fire such as this as a child with her brother came back to her.

Quatre crouched beside her watching her closely, but by now Relena was too contended beside the fire to really care. When she started to cough again he kindly rescued the cup from her hands before she could spill any of the hot liquid over herself. Looking up at him she smiled between coughs.

"Thank you," she managed to say once her breathing returned to normal.

"Perhaps," Quatre said, turning to hand the tankard to a large burley man with a startling beard who stood close by, "Perhaps it would be best to have a look at you before you do anything else."

Relena looked sideways at Heero, who was leaning against the large fire surround, his legs crossed and his eyes closed but his drink perfectly balanced in his hand. He nodded without opening his eyes and Relena felt sudden annoyance as if by looking at him she had sought his permission. He most certainly did not own her. She looked down at her feet feeling cold realisation flood through her.

Yet.

Soon she might be forced to wed him or his father and then, of course, she would be a possession.

Deciding to exert her independence whilst she could she looked back at the druid and shook her head. "I am fine. All I need is to sleep a little," she said quietly.

Movement beside her betrayed that Heero had moved from his relaxed position beside the fire and was standing glaring at her.

"See to her Quatre," he said firmly with authority all tiredness suddenly disappearing from him.

Quatre looked at Relena apologetically "My Lord commands," he said, crouching before her and reaching a hand out to take her cloak from her.

Relena bristled and held the cloak closer "He is not my Lord," she said glaring back at Heero and standing up. Unfortunately the effect of wronged maiden was ruined by dizziness and another coughing fit overtaking her.

Quatre was the one to support her this time, whilst Heero looked on in irritation.

"Forgive me," Quatre said, his eyes honest and concerned. "But I have to insist, my lady. You are obviously not well from your travels and it would upset me to see you fall any deeper into this illness because of my failure to treat you."

Relena could not help but feel calmed by Quatre's wide blue empathic eyes. She nodded her agreement and allowed the cloak to slip away from her small frame. Quatre helped her sit back down on her stool before running his long cool fingers over her scalp feeling the bump inflicted by Dorothy's blow. She winced a little as he probed a tender spot, for which he gave his apologies before running his fingers down her neck and around the bottom of her jaw. He looked deeply into her eyes as he did this, his face so close she could feel his breath on her face.

She blushed at the apparent intimacy of his touch, whilst he smiled encouragingly at her.

"Apologies again, Lady," he said drawing back a little. "Your head wound looks worse than it is, all cuts to the head bleed well and this should need no stitches."

Relena was glad of this. She had helped in the infirmary at the abbey on occasions and had seen lengths of horsehair sewn with small bone needles into the flesh of men and had no desire to experience it for herself.

Quatre watched her breath a little. "You breath is shallow. Does it hurt to take a full lung of air?"

Relena shook her head. "It makes me cough, and coughing hurts," she lowered her eyes ".a little."

Quatre walked around her and she twisted to follow him. Smiling he indicated that she should look forward again and she did as she was instructed staring into the cold face of Heero. He stood still, sipping his drink, but never taking his eyes from her. She glared back, or did until she felt Quatre press his head against her back.

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and so stunned was she that she sat still forgetting even to breathe.

Quatre chuckled a little. "My lady, I wish to hear the air in your lungs. For that you must remember to inhale."

Relena did so in a rush, so disconcerted she was that this strange young Druid should be pressing his body to hers. Of course, she breathed too deeply and was soon reduced to another coughing fit. Quatre lifted his head from her back and instead started to rub it. Relena blushed at his touch, reminded that Zechs Marquis had done the very same thing not yet a day ago.

"Druid?" Heero asked softly, his eyes narrowed.

Relena looked up at him as he spoke and saw that his eyes were narrowed and his hand clasped firmly around the handle of his tankard. The word may have been spoken as a question asking what the matter was with her, but it sounded more like a warning. Instantly Quatre removed his hand from her back.

"She is suffering from ill humours to the lungs," he said. "Scented steam will help. I have some oil of juniper berry that should be added to the steamed water."

"Juniper berry?" Relena repeated, unfamiliar with the fruit.

"A herb from the Byzantium," Quatre explained.

Heero nodded and rolled his shoulders to ease the ache that plagued him. "A bath then," he nodded at the serving woman who stood still near by. "Light the furnace to the bath house," he instructed "Provide clean clothes and prepare a bed for her with the women."

The serving woman nodded, her red plait falling over her shoulder to be tossed back with a flick of her hand. She hesitated then asked. "Lord Heero, I hear that the rest of the warband will be here soon. Is that so?"

Relena watched Heero nod solemnly before saying, "But your brother is not amongst them. He took one of the Lady's companions back to the abbey. He follows after."

The serving woman stood still, frozen to the spot until the words 'he follows' filtered through to her. Then she nodded and swiftly moved off to do as Heero commanded. Relena followed her progress to a small door in the side of the hall through which she disappeared presumably to the kitchens.

So she was the sister of the man who went with Sister Sally. Relena tried to recall what he had looked like; wasn't he the one who had guarded all three of them that first night. She frowned perplexed that she could not recall. Certainly if she was going to prove herself to be a capable in her new role in life, be it Queen or wife to a King, then she needed to start at least remembering names and faces.

"What was her name?" she asked.

Heero followed her gaze to the door that the woman had just disappear through.

"Catherine," he answered without questioning why she wanted to know. "Sister of Trowa."

Trowa.

That was the elusive man's name. Trowa, brother of Catherine, protector of Sally.

"Trowa ought to have caught up by now," Relena stated looking up at Heero who seemed to be showing his tiredness again.

"Aye," Heero nodded answering before he pondered his words. He looked down at Relena, then looked away. "In all probability he has been killed or taken by Treize."

"...Sally?" Relena murmured.

Heero looked into his cup as if he had found something distasteful within it. "She has little value as a hostage," he answered before looking at her. "I told you before. Those slavers' deaths were just the beginning. What lies before us is war."

* * * *

Sally was getting very tired of being a prisoner of Treize Kushrinada and wished above all other things that she had never left young Relena's side. If she had not, she would not be in this predicament now, nor would she have the fate of the warrior Trowa upon her soul.

After Trieze had finished using her as a holder of pen and ink, her had dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He had then stood to watch his men construct a shelter that would be suitable for their needs over the next few days until the troops he had sent for arrived. Sally disliked his arrogance and his apparent vanity, although his men seemed to be spurred on by his languid ways.

Sally noted with interest that the Shamen Une was not fairing so well in her Lord's opinion of late, nor could Sally miss the way in which she reacted. Une seemed to desperately need Treize's good opinion and she sank deep into a melancholy without it, causing Sally to almost feel sorry for her. Trieze, Sally was sure, had noted his Shamen's reaction but did nothing to ease the woman's feelings. This made Sally like him even less.

Even now the Shamen sat huddled next to Trowa having brought him water to drink. Sally was irritated with herself for not thinking of the man's needs; she herself had been thirsty so of course Trowa would have been too. Then again, Sally could not easily get by Trowa's guard without gaining unwanted attention from them.

She had seen the look that they gave her before, in her mother's whorehouse. Men would wander by, their eyes hot and lusty looking at the women who displayed themselves on the benches outside the front of the building. The guards wore the same looks whenever their eyes chanced upon her. Sally knew that her oath of chastity was no protection should these men decide to take her. She also doubted whether Treize would stop their attack.

Wufei, however, would be sure to. Of this Sally was certain. He had been protective of her ever since he took her captive in the woods. He had been affected by her protecting Trowa from his sword and had treated her with an indifferent sort of respect ever since. However, would he protect her if Treize gave her to his men? His devotion to his Lord was plain for anyone to see and Sally truly believed that if Treize decided that his men could have her, then Wufei would not protest.

Sally looked once more towards Trowa and found that he was staring directly at her, his green eye intent. She frowned a little and looked away uncomfortable with his stare. When she once again glanced towards him she found he was still staring at her intently as if he wanted to convey something to her.

Puzzled, she moved slightly towards him and was rewarded with an approving look from him. Did he want her to come to him? Deciding that he did indeed want something, she braced herself for the intimidating looks from the guards and walked to him. Wufei stopped her progress, a hand on her arm.

"Where are you going, woman?" he demanded.

Sally was still looking at Trowa and saw a look of frustration pass briefly over his face, before it lapsed into the usual blank mask. She turned to Wufei and looked down at his hand before staring at him, her eyebrow raised. He understood her meaning and removed his hand from her.

"I wish to pray," she said "I wish to pray for all the poor innocent souls who will be killed because of your master's greed for power."

Wufei scowled and looked away before muttering, "Be quick about your pious mutterings and do not go further than my line of sight."

Sally's eyes narrowed at his words and she muttered a fervent prayer for God to grant her patience when dealing with ignorant savages. She was rewarded by seeing Wufei's fists clench in anger and felt much better. Turning away she made her way over to Trowa ignoring the leers of his guards.

Une did not look up at her approach, but remained kneeling on the cold ground her hands loosely holding onto the now empty cup, her eyes focussed on it as if she could by will alone refill it. Trowa did look up at Sally, a warning in his eyes. Before Sally could ask what he wanted, he suddenly moved.

He lunged towards Une, his hands that had been tied behind his back free of their bindings. Time went slow for Sally as she watched him move, and she saw with perfect clarity the marks the rope had made as he had pulled against his bindings. Une's head raised as he flew towards her, and her eyes widened slightly. But she did nothing to protect herself.

One of Trowa's outstretched hands grasped hold of Une by the neck, pulling her to him. The other grabbed the cup from her hand and dashed it to the ground where it broke into several large pieces. He stood, pulling the woman with him and held a sharp fragment of cup to Une's neck.

"Get behind me!" he hissed to Sally, who complied with haste.

The guards had pulled forth their swords and held them out unsure as what to do.

"Stay back!" Trowa said calmly pressing the pointed edge of the pottery into the Shamen's neck so that it made a dimple in her flesh.

He had all the camp's attention by now. Wufei was advancing at speed, his sword drawn his face intent on Trowa.

"Stop!" Treize held up a hand, his voice quiet.

Wufei stopped immediately, his eyes not leaving Trowa, his face pulled into an almost feral grimace.

Treize watched Trowa closely, his face apparently calm. Sally was impressed at his control, especially when she could see how tense he was by the way his hands were clenched. He gestured to his men to move away from Trowa and his hostage and all complied except Wufei.

"Two horses," Trowa demanded. No one moved. His eyes narrowed and he pressed the pottery shard further into the Shamen's neck, "Now!"

Treize waited a moment longer looking at Une as if he expected her to suddenly work herself free of the situation she was in. Sally felt her hands perspire at the thought of what would happen if horses were refused and wiped her hands nervously down her robes. Then Treize nodded and two horses were led forward.

"Sally, take the reins," Trowa instructed.

Sally's eyes widened at this and she hesitated before moving forward to claim the leather reins from the warrior who held them. She led the two horses back to Trowa ignoring the scowling look Wufei was giving her. His disapproval at her defiance surprised her. If he was in her situation wouldn't he then seek a means to escape? She looked nervously at the small trail of blood that now oozed down the Shamens neck and winced. Sally gave a fervent prayer hoping that their escape bid wouldn't finish with any deaths.

"Now, free the rest of the horses and scare them off," Trowa instructed.

Treize did not hesitate this time and nodded immediately silently instructing his men to comply.

"My Lord!" Wufei protested, his grip tightening on his sword until his knuckles shone white.

Treize ignored him, instead addressed Trowa "Leave my Shamen here," he said frowning.

Sally clambered up on to the back of one of the horses, her tunic hitched high up her legs. They would be riding hard to get away from Treize as quickly as possible; now was the time for speed not modesty. Trowa ignored Treize, instead he too swiftly climbed up onto his horse, holding on to Une's arm and dragging her up in front of him. His movements were so quick and exact that there was little time for Treize to try and rescue Une even if that was his intention.

"She is my hostage," Trowa said "Don't follow. If you do, I will kill her."

Une made no protest as the pottery shard was once again pressed into her neck, her eyes looked dull and lifeless as if she had no will left in her to fight or to live. Trowa nodded to Sally, then urged his horse to move swiftly away. Sally followed with a single backward glance at the newly made camp. She saw Wufei standing stiff and angry, before she turned her face to the front and urged her horse to move faster.

They were free!
TBC