Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cynehelme ❯ Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )

Cynehelme

by kmf

Rating: PG13

Warnings: AU/some violence

Standard Disclaimer Applies

Chapter Nine

Dorothy could not restrain the large smile that crept across her face. More than two hours had gone by since her flight from the village, and as of yet there had been no pursuit. It was almost laughable. Those so-called warriors from Mercia were so drunk that they wouldn't have noticed if Kushrinada himself had ridden into the village. They deserved to loose the prize of the Peacecraft heir.

She glanced over her shoulder to check on Relena. The girl lay sprawled in the back of the cart upon which Dorothy rode, her face pale and her lips slightly blue. The side of her head was matted with blood but she still breathed regularly, white puffs of her breath showing as condensation on the cold air. There had been no time to secure extra cloaks, blankets or food and Dorothy was relying on her instinct that Treize was indeed close. Otherwise those lips might well get bluer before the night was over.

A bump on the road nearly threw Dorothy from her seat on the cart, and she turned her attention back to the road ahead. The cart was an appalling poor thing, its wheels rough circles of wood banded with a steel collar. The sides of the cart were made of woven willow branches designed to keep loads in and not keep the elements out. The war-horse that Dorothy had picked also resented the task it had been given and regularly pulled at the bit, shaking its head trying to rid itself of the harness.

"Shush!" Dorothy crooned at the animal "I know how you feel, its degrading to be used for something beneath you." And how well she understood that.

All her life she had believed that she was destined to be more than just a nobleman's daughter, more than just a tool to be used in an arranged marriage. Her grandfather had seen her potential and had encouraged her in her beliefs. He had often sought her advice on the way he ran his estate, on which faction he should back, on whose favours he should seek. And she had done well with her advice, so well that she was noticed by many high powered men, including her cousin Treize.

But then it had all gone wrong. Her grandfather had become too greedy for wealth and had started to lead raiding parties. The last she had seen of the old man was when they had bid each other farewell on his estate. She had urged him loudly to be proud and gain more honour in glorious battle. Her grandfather had, once again, heeded her advice and led a group of bandits on a raid into neighbouring Mercia. It was there that he and all his men were killed by a patrolling band of warriors. A band led by Heero Yuy.

At the time Dorothy had been proud of her grandfathers glorious death, especially at the hand of a Prince. It was a death to be sung about and gloried in. Unfortunately, the King of Lindsey saw it a completely different way. He saw it as an act of aggression against a peaceful neighbour and sought forgiveness from his fellow King. And to do that he punished those who supported her grandfather. And that, in the main, was her.

She had been banished herself to a convent that only accepted her because she had a significant dowry attached to her. Then Dorothy had suffered the ultimate humiliation of having her wondrous hair shorn from her head. She would rather have died.

But still, revenge comes to those who wait patiently. And now it was her time. She was going to have her vengeance against the man who had killed her grandfather and in that act had assigned her to a living hell. She had stolen Heero Yuy's prize, she would be reunited with her cousin and she would be elevated back to the position that she deserved. She would be advisor to the High King and she would have the satisfaction of seeing Heero Yuy grovel before her.

Her eyes narrowed as she thought of him, his arrogant and superior face staring at her as if she was below his notice. How she hated him. So much, that she could hardly rid her mind of his image; his blue eyes and his messy hair. She would teach him to treat her with disdain. He would soon learn that Dorothy Catalonia was a person that should be treated with nothing but respect.

Relena groaned a little, causing Dorothy to look over her shoulder at the unconscious girl again. If she woke up, Dorothy was sure that she would have to hit her again. She smirked, it was something that she really did not mind doing. Relena was such an idiot to blindly follow Heero Yuy when she could freely have the glory that was Treize Kushrinada. Perhaps when Relena met her cousin all thoughts of Heero Yuy and his startling blue eyes would fade from her mind. Satisfied that Relena would stay asleep for a little while longer, Dorothy turned her eyes back to the road then pulled in the reins sharply.

Ahead was a rider on a large war-horse blocking the road. For a moment Dorothy's heart lurched thinking that Heero had already found them. But then she realised that this was not Heero. The man was much taller and dressed in tight leather pants and jerkin, not the linen that the Mercians' favoured. He wore a cloak, unusual in so far as it had a hood. The hood was draped to hide the top half of his face from view, only his mouth was visible. Long blond hair cascaded over his shoulders, reminding Dorothy for a moment of her own lost locks.

"What do you want!" she hailed him, wondering how he could see anything with his hood pulled so low. He did not reply, but rather urged his large black horse forward at a slow walk, his horse eerily blowing puffs of white air from its nostrils. The animal lifted its front legs high demonstrating that it was indeed a well-bred and expensive horse.

Dorothy gripped hold of her reins tightly while mentally assessing whether she could turn the horse and cart around quickly and flee the man. She could, of course, ditch the cart, cut her horse free and escape on that. But that would mean giving up Relena and that she was not willing to do. Instead she allowed one hand to release the rein and travel down to the darkness of the bench upon which she sat. Hidden there was a sword that she had 'borrowed' from the village. If this man had ill intent, then she would fight him.

He came parallel to her, and looked down from his massive horse, his face still hidden but his mouth drawn into a firm line. His black gloved pushed back his cloak to reveal a long sword sheathed at his side. Deliberately he curled his fingers around the hilt.

"She is not yours." he said in slow measured tones, his voice clear and articulate.

Dorothy's eyes narrowed in response. He was another after Relena, perhaps from some faction she was unaware of.

"Neither is she yours!" she responded, pulling forth her own sword and delighting in the way it gleamed in the moonlight.

She stood balanced on the cart and shrugged off her shawl so that she was unimpeded by the fabric. The man pulled his sword forth, and Dorothy almost gasped in delight at the sound that it made. It rang, no it practically sung in the cold night air. It was a blade of high quality, a princely weapon. Her own blade would be no match for it, but still she yearned to hear it sing in battle.

She swung up, aiming at the man's midsection hoping that her aggression and speed would catch the man unaware. Alas, she was disappointed. He blocked her blow without effort, and her next three. He had the advantage of the extra height his horse gave him, together with the additional strength that being a man gave him. She had the inferior position, weapon and strength. However, she would not give up. She would battle to the death if necessary.

Again, she swung at him, but then after he blocked the move she turned around and used her speed to strike a blow that she was sure he would not have time to counter. She was wrong. Steel struck steel and sparks danced out into the night sky. He had anticipated her move, his movements fast as lightening, and had once more blocked her move. This time to the destruction of her sword; she could feel from the way it vibrated in her hand that it had been notched at least by the man's superior sword.

Her hand numbed by the blow she would only watch helpless as he bought his blade up to her neck. She stared at him, trying to get a glimpse of his face but his hood remained covering all but his mouth.

"What do you wait for?" she asked, tilting her head back slightly in proud defiance. She was determined to face her death with dignity, even though disappointment welled up in her heart; she had been so close to achieving her goal with Relena.

The horseman said nothing, but lowered his sword using it to flick Dorothy's dropped weapon from the cart. She stood still watching his actions feeling suddenly weak kneed because she knew at that moment he did not mean to kill her. The horsemen urged his mount to walk forward so that he was now behind the cart. He looked at Relena lying still and pale in the back before looking back up at Dorothy.

"She is not yours," he said again as he sheathed his sword. Leaning down from his horse he took Relena's arm and dragged her up into the saddle before him. Relena remained unaware of all, her head lolling back, her mouth partially open, her lips blue with the cold.

"Who are you?" Dorothy demanded. Her fists clenched at her sides revealed her frustration.

For a moment she thought that he would not reply so intent he was in wrapping his cloak around the half-frozen girl. Then he looked directly at her. His face was still hidden by the shadows of the night, but she felt as if his eyes were boring into her very soul itself. "Good Night Miss Catalonia." he said before urging his horse away into the night.

Dorothy bit her lip to refrain from crying out after him, instead she sunk to her knees her head bowed low. She had lost the battle and lost the prize. She had been so close to winning, and now all was lost. How was she to face Treize when they met? And how did that man know her name?

She ignored the cold seeping into her knees as she remained kneeling in the snow. Slowly she bought her temper under control assessing her options. She could either return to Treize admitting defeat, or she could follow Relena either to steal her away again or lead her cousin easily to her.

Dorothy slowly began to smile. She loved a challenge; she would follow and this time she would not loose.

* * * *

Heero sat comfortably by the fire and listened to the minstrel sing the deeds of battles fought long ago, a large tankard of beer held in his hand. He restrained the urge to down it in one as so many of his men had done. Instead he savoured it enjoying the comfort of a hearth which he had not enjoyed for what felt a very long. A life in the saddle was fine and good, but he missed the comforts of home. He closed his eyes feeling weary after the long ride and could not help but think of how tired the princess would be. She was not used to days of travelling, not after being confined to a convent for so long. It took great effort on his part not to open his eyes and search the room for her to make sure of her comfort.

Relena needed time away from him, of this he was sure. She knew now exactly who he was and that realisation was obviously not a pleasant one. Her look of shock and incomprehension was one that would stay with him for a long time. He could see her mind working out what she really meant to him. Or what she thought she really meant to him; a potential bride or a potential stepmother.

The decision, of course, was in the hands of the King.

He could not suppress the shudder that wracked him as he thought of his father's hands upon her. It was not that he didn't have the greatest respect for him, and he would obey any command that his father gave. But the thought of Relena belonging to any other man, the idea that Relena could be touched by any other man, the concept that Relena would be kissed by any other man instantly repulsed him.

Any other man, but him.

Heero groaned and took a sip of his beer without opening his eyes. She was such an infuriating woman, so trusting and honest. Of course, she would never be so trusting of him again and would never look into his eyes again with her innocent eyes without reproach showing in them. Perhaps he should have been honest at the beginning with her, but it was too late for wishful thinking now. He could no more change the past than he could fly. He would have to deal with her reaction now that the truth was out. And, of course, the perfect way of dealing with it was to completely distance himself from her.

He had thought to go and explain why he had omitted the truth, but that had changed when Heero and seen Duo stumble over to her with an inane grin on his face and an extra goblet in his hand. He had seen her smile at his foster brother and any thoughts on confronting her that night had disappeared. Instead he had turned his back and ignored her secure in that Duo was on hand to protect her even though he had already had a significant amount to drink.

He frowned at his thoughts trying to free his mind of the image of her wrapped in his arms as they rode his horse, of the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin. It was so easy just to fall into the dream of her and remain there comforted and contended.

"Well, what are you smirking about?" came a familiar voice and Heero opened his eyes to see Hilde crouching beside him, her dark hair caught back in a leather thong, her peplos dress replaced by tunic and leggings.

Heero blinked a couple of times thinking that the ale must be stronger than he supposed, or maybe the villagers had spiked it with the infamous mushroom that made its consumers dream happy dreams. He blinked again as Hilde waved her hand before his face.

"Hello?" she asked, her mouth taking on its familiar cheeky smile. "Oh dear. The smile is gone and now you just look a little dim." she said with disappointment.

Heero surged to his feet lifting her by the arms as he did so, nearly spilling the contents of his tankard down her front. "Hilde!" he exclaimed, lifting her into a tight embrace "What in Frea's name are you doing here?"

She smiled and explained how word had come through that the warband was close to home and that she wanted to meet up with Duo as she had missed him. Heero's face went from grin to grimace as he berated her from travelling alone in such risky times. Whilst he scolded he looked around to see if he could see Duo and Relena; he would not have Hilde hurt by witnessing Duo fawning over the princess.

"What a remarkable display your face is putting on tonight." Hilde commented, her eyebrow raised slightly as Heero's eyes swept the hall. "It's enough to scare even the most easy of maidens away," She placed a hand on Heero's shoulder "Just who are you looking for?" she asked.

"Duo," Heero said curtly, squinting through the haze of smoke.

"Don't bother about him." Hilde smiled, taking the tankard from Heero's hand and sipping from it. "He has passed out under one of the benches. He knows I am here, I talked to him when I arrived," she broke off as she saw the stony look Heero was wearing.

"The girl." he grated, his face stern and serious "Where is the girl?"

Hilde looked confused "What girl Heero?" she asked puzzled.

Heero did not pause to tell her any more, instead he pushed his way through the intoxicated men trying to seek out Duo and his charge. Duo he found easily enough; flat on his back, his mouth open slightly as he snored. Heero grabbed the front of his jerkin and pulled him up to a sitting position, shaking him slightly as he did so. Duo snorted in protest, but his eyes did not open. Heero almost snarled in his anger and let Duo drop back to the floor; he knew he would get nothing out of his foster brother tonight.

Hilde cried out in protest and knelt by the drunk Duo pulling his head to her lap, stroking his forehead lovingly. Heero was aware of her glare and that she said something to him, but he was too distracted to hear what she said.

Relena was missing.

There was no sign of her in the hall, nor was there any sign of Sister Dorothy. Heero considered what might have happened. If Hilde had suddenly arrived and announced that she was betrothed to Duo, then Relena might have been upset, might have left the hall to distance herself from his idiot brother.

Hoping that he was correct, Heero pushed his way to the entrance to the hall and ducked out into the cold night air. He breathed deeply trying to clear his head of the smoke and fumes of the hall. Looking around he considered what direction she might have gone; the village was not large and he was sure that she would not have been foolish enough to leave its boundary.

Walking swiftly, Heero began to walk around the periphery of the village, refraining from calling to her but carefully scanning the ground for any signs of her passing. At the penned horses he found what he was looking for; footprints in the snow, small enough to be hers and Dorothy's. Heero frowned. There was also sign of a struggle, the imprint of a body in the snow, a discarded length of wood, and signs that someone had been dragged away.

Swearing, Heero ran to his horse. Relena had managed to get herself into trouble yet again. Without bothering to saddle or bridle his horse, Heero mounted it swiftly. It was a well-trained steed and Heero could ride just as well without reins. His hands grasped onto its mane and he used his legs to urge the horse to jump the fence. Once over, he directed it by nudging the horse with his knees and he followed the tracks that the horse and cart had made.

He felt cold, he had not bought his cloak or his gloves with him. He did, however, have the one thing that he needed to ensure Relena's safe return. His sword. His eyes narrowed. And he would use it, if necessary, even if the perpetrator turned out to be Dorothy. He would not allow her to steal away his princess.

* * * *

Relena woke coughing hard, her hands wiping at her mouth and nose trying to dislodge the mud that clung there making it difficult to breath. She felt comforting pats on her back and realised that she was being held in strong arms, a cloak wound around her.

…"Heero?"

She managed to gasp out the name between coughs, but could do little else other than try and catch her breath. Her hands were shivering uncontrollably and she felt as her very bones were made of ice.

"No."

The voice that replied was not that of Heero's. With effort, Relena squinted up at the figure that held her securely in his arms. His face was partially obscured by his cloak that he wore draped across his head, shadowing his face. His blond hair glowed in the moonlight and looked almost like silver upon the ebony of his cloak

"…who?" Relena could manage no more, she again began to cough deeply.

"I am a friend," The man replied, again rubbing her back.

She tensed at the sensation uncertain of his intentions and immediately he stopped. Relena tried to remain as still as possible in his arms, wondering whether she should take this stranger at his word. This was the third time in a week that she had found herself the captive of a stranger and she was beginning to wonder just how many times God was going to allow this to happen to her.

Rubbing her forehead, absently feeling the dirt come away, Relena tried to remember what had happened to her. She remembered the shock of finding Heero was a prince, the declaration of Duo's and then Dorothy's urging to go with her. Relena sat straight.

"You're Treize Kushrinada, aren't you?" she whispered horrified and more frightened than she had been in a long while.

The man chuckled. "No, I am not," he said, "Although you were on your way to meet up with him. I think your nun friend was not such a friend as you had supposed."

"Dorothy..." Relena murmured grimly, remembering the blow that the nun had given her. "Where is she?"

"Gone back to her cousin Treize, I think," The man said. "She was no friend of yours, Relena. You should not be so trusting."

Relena could not help but smile a little. "I have heard that a great many times over the last few days; mainly from Dorothy herself."

"Its good advice," the man smiled, Relena could see his teeth gleam white as his hair did. "But given with selfish intentions."

Silence fell between them, Relena's cough gradually easing as the panic she felt dissipated. She felt oddly at ease with this man, a strange sense of familiarity was about him. Curious, she tried to ask his identity again.

"Have I met you before?" she asked, watching his shadowy face closely "What is your name/"

His only response was to halt the horse. For a moment Relena thought that she had offended or angered the man, but then her ears caught the sounds of hoof fall approaching rapidly. Ahead of them was a rider, rapidly travelling, a sword held up in his hand. A yell was given warning them to stand where they were and Relena realised with a sudden leap of her heart that it was Heero. She found herself grinning inanely as she realised he had come to rescue her.

The rider holding her lifted his arms to show that he was not holding a weapon and waited patiently for Heero to draw near, murmuring only to calm the horse which had started to back and fidget nervously at the approach of the other war horse.

Relena tried to inconspicuously rub some more of the dirt from her face, suddenly conscious that her appearance was probably laughable. She had, she remembered, landed face first in mud and indeed her mouth felt gritty from ingested dirt. As Heero stared at the man who held her, she tried to look refined, regal and in control of the situation. The effect was ruined when another fit of coughing overtook her.

Instantly the man who rescued her lowered his hands to support her on the horse. Heero, at the same moment, pointed his sword directly at the man, the tip dangerously close to the man's neck.

"Let go of her," Heero growled

For a moment the blonde man did not, and Relena could see that both men were giving each other equally cold stares. Heero tapped the point of his sword against the man's shoulder.

"I wont say it again." He said, eyes like flint.

"Heero Yuy," the other replied, giving Relena's arms a squeeze of reassurance before lifting her down from the horse and letting her go as her feet touched the frosty ground. He backed his horse away from Relena, and away from the reach of Heero's sword. "Listen well. You have been unforgivably careless so far. If you are again, you will not have Relena back. Do you understand?"

Heero's eyes had widened as the man addressed him by name and his hold on his sword relaxed a little as he saw the man was relinquishing her. But the final demand once again had him scowling. Relena ignored him, instead turned to her rescuer who was turning his horse about to ride away.

"Wait!" She pleaded, holding out an arm in an imploring gesture. "Please tell me who you are!"

The man nodded to her before urging his horse into a trot. Over his shoulder he called back to her.

"I am known as Zechs Marquis."

TBC