Arc II, Chapter 52

There had not been a lot to pack. Those used to surviving off of the lay of the land, such as the soldiers that made up much of the knights of Yuy, only needed to pack the bare essentials and were always ready to leave at the turn of the hour. Most of the time that was spent yesterday was devoted to making sure all of my necessities were packed and ready, a combination of belongings from my dressing room and my study.

There was also the fact that our traveling party had essentially been halved. As Heero had been given a direct imperial order to stay in the capital for another week and a half, there was no need to pack up his belongings quite yet. Trowa and Quatre were still staying, along with Wufei; I knew Heero's aim was to put all his best minds together to wrap up his strategy meetings with the Prince faster, so that he'd be able to follow after much sooner than anticipated.

I'd decided to head out today as planned. Waiting another day, let alone a week, seemed unbearable; every minute I spent in the Capital was just one more opportunity for something unpleasant to come knocking. So instead, the Duchess Guard would be escorting me home to the Yuy province, along with Meilan; of the servants, I would only be taking along Hilde, Coralina, and Daigo. Doctor Po, Chef Morris, and Heero's attendant, Tsubasa, would be following with Heero upon his return.

"You'll be taking the more direct path back," Heero said. We'd taken the longer, more scenic route on our way to the Capital together; the path I'd be taking back was one that cut off about five days' worth of travel. It required us to camp out on more days rather than stay at town lodgings, but it was worth the trouble. Heero had explained this to me several times by now, his eyes and the corners of his mouth pinched with tension. "It's rougher, so if you need to stop and take a break, just do it. I'll wrap things up here and meet you halfway."

I couldn't help the smile at that. "You can't, you'll break your poor horse's back," I chided him teasingly.

Heero started to pout in response, which was cute enough that I leaned up to place a soft kiss to his lips. I ignored the way everyone very obviously turned away to give us privacy, tangling my hand through Heero's flyaway hair at the back of his head and pressing in for another kiss. Heero obliged me, cupping my cheek tenderly, pulling back only to place a feather-light kiss to my brow.

"Don't think about anything that's happened here," he whispered to me with another light kiss. "I will take care of it. Don't spare it a single crumb of concern."

This was also something Heero had told me ad nauseum. I could only guess at what Trowa had overheard from my conversation with Relena, and how much of that made it back to Heero's ears. Doubt lingered like a phantom in the back of my mind, growing heavier by the hour as Heero never took the initiative to talk about it.

Some part of me was grateful that he didn't. I honestly didn't know what I would tell him; the answers that sat in the stifled part of my memories waited for the moment I would let them spill from my mouth, and I could not tell what was stronger: my fear or Heero's doubts. Verbalizing the answers would give them power, and I don't think either of us was ready for that now.

I placed my hand over the one he held on my cheek. "I love you," I told him softly. Despite everything I was before, despite everything I am now - I love Heero. I wanted him to know what, wanted him to understand that no matter what answers laid in the back of my mind, that at least I was sure of this.

I heard Heero's soft inhale at my words, and then he gently pressed his forehead to mine. "I love you too," he told me, confident in contrast, kissing me once again. I took comfort in the feel of his lips on mine, in the touch of his hand on my face, in the warmth of his presence.

Don't leave me.

I wonder if we thought that at the same time.

___

The trip back was a little more somber than our trip to the Capital. Unfortunately, I think a lot of that was my fault; I just couldn't seem to stop thinking about Heero. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I regret leaving as soon as I did, but a large part of me hated being on the road without his presence at my side. This felt patently ridiculous to my more logical side; I traveled around the Yuy province just fine without him, after all.

Then again, that was before I'd actually spent any time with him. I suppose the age-old adage of 'never knowing what you're missing 'til it's gone' really holds true.

"Are you still sulking?" Meilan snipped with a roll of her eyes, rummaging through my tent without an invitation.

I slouched down further on my makeshift cot. "I'm not sulking," I corrected her with what should have been a very scary scowl. It no doubt fell a little short, based on Coralina's cooing response to it. "I'm thinking."

"Thinking about how much he misses the Duke," Asahi contributed idly from where he stood just inside the tent flap. "What color were his eyes again, Your Grace? The color of ocean waves in the moonlight-"

"I have never described his eyes like that!" I snapped back, the heat of the blush on my face feeling like an inferno.

Meilan scoffed, "No, you're too busy fantasizing about his-"

"Stop, stop!" Takeo cried out pitifully from outside the tent. "This is just like hearing about your parents having sex!"

"It is not!"

"What the fuck, Takeo?"

"Does that make the Duke your daddy-"

Ignoring the ruckus from the rest of the Duchess Guard outside, I turned an affronted look on Meilan. "Now look what you've done," I told her. "You made Takeo admit to his daddy issues."

("I do not, Your Grace!" Takeo wailed.)

Meilan waved that off without a care. "Whatever gets that pitiful look off your face."

I should have defended myself again, but even I knew I didn't really have a leg to stand on here. We'd been on the road for five days at this point, about a day and a half from the nearest town and three days from the next town we would stop in. A smaller group made us quicker, but it was obvious to me that my comfort was their number one priority; my tent was always the first set up and we took breaks every other hour.

I could admit that it hadn't been so bad, even without Heero and the others. Sayaka and Berion had appointed themselves the task of teaching me to ride horseback, an activity I did not often indulge in. My own horse, Skeletor, had remained back in the Yuy province, but it would be nice to spend more time riding him. According to Sayaka, there were some nice, private spots around the Yuy estate that were easier to get to via horseback, so I could take Heero out on a nice little date when he finally returned home.

"Do you think it will really take them that long in the Capital?" I asked Meilan, sitting back up. "I mean, they're really good at beating back Romefeller. I don't even know why the Prince wanted to keep them there longer, it's not like he does anything-"

"The Prince also rides into battle sometimes," Meilan pointed out. "He's competent and reliable, as far as I've seen."

"I don't trust him," I insisted.

Meilan gave me a strange look. "Why?"

I didn't answer.

"...If it's because of the Princess, you don't need to worry," Meilan said, awkwardly patting my shoulder in comfort. "The imperial family can't order the Duke to marry her, and he'd never do so willingly."

That wasn't the reason, and after speaking with Relena, I'm not sure Heero was even in her radar as a romantic interest. Just thinking about the Princess made an uncomfortable mixture of anxiety and concern bubble up inside me, neither of which I wanted to examine too closely.

"And if they tried, we just have to kill them." Trademark Meilan...

Hilde finally looked up from where she'd been organizing my things in the corner of the tent. While Coralina was entrusted with my wardrobe and accessories, Hilde was the caretaker of the materials from my study and my more personal items, such as the Death's Door she'd arranged in the corner. She'd seemed quieter these past few days, initially disgruntled after Heero barred her from attending me after my return from the castle, and then kept preoccupied with rushed packing.

I looked to the Death's Door, visible just past Hilde's waist. I'd thought about throwing it from the carriage earlier in the day and wondered if that impulse meant it was soon nearing its end. Asahi couldn't tell me when these altars were to be destroyed, since it differed based entirely on the person and their intent, but assured me that the next one was already made back at the Yuy estate should I feel the need to destroy my current one on my journey.

Even now, I wanted to destroy it.

The skin of my throat itched as I stared at it; with idle fingers, I tapped at the murky grey pearls wrapped around my throat.

Meilan noticed my attention had been diverted, and in an uncharacteristic show of subtlety, excused herself from the tent to "go check on dinner." Coralina was soon to follow her, leaving only myself, Hilde, and Asahi in the tent. Hilde stood impassively by the entrance, Asahi on the other side of it with a small smile on his face.

I had felt an itch between my shoulder blades all day. It wasn't the same sensation as being watched; I knew what it felt like to have eyes on me, hidden or otherwise, courtesy of my guards, and they were more than adept in discerning if we were being followed. The itch was more like a sense of foreboding, only further enhanced when one of the Capital guards that had followed us - Hisashi - remarked on how our current route was only really utilized by knights or soldiers, and that it could easily be used to isolate someone for other purposes.

I tapped once more at my choker, the smell of lilac heavy in the air. "Something's wrong..."

Heero wasn't around to reassure me, and so silence was the only answer.

___

Dinner was a hearty root vegetable soup that Daigo had labored diligently over, tasking Lyle with doling out the tough bread. It was well-seasoned and filling, and still what I considered a luxury given our wilderness trek back home. In some ways, it was an easier trip back given how familiar I was with everyone present and how quickly we were able to move. Given our small number, everyone ate together, and only two were needed to be on watch during the times we slept.

Perhaps it was because of this relaxed atmosphere that we weren't aware of our encroachers until we heard the steady beat of hooves on dirt.

It wasn't entirely unusual for us to run into the odd traveler on this route; while it was used most often by Sanc's militia, some merchants or even the odd soldier would cross our path. We'd shared a meal with a traveling merchant and his hired muscle back on the third day of our trip, which had been a rather pleasant experience since the man hailed from the Maxwell province and was happy to regale us with nonsense tales about his own family's traditions. There had also been the pair of knights from the Noventa province, acting as messengers in a light-hearted familial dispute - but grateful that they'd been allowed to honeymoon afterwards.

For that reason, even when we heard someone approaching, no one was particularly on guard about it until we actually saw the head of the small platoon: Count Otto.

The sun had nearly set by this point, streaks of dark orange fading into the blue-black of encroaching night. We'd set up our tents in preparation for the night, our campfire still strong after our warm meal. It may not be unusual to see people traveling late at night back in New York, but here, everyone knew to set up camp early lest they lose themselves on the trails in the dark.

Count Otto and his men were quick to slow to a steady trod once they'd noticed us. Both Meilan and Hilde rocketed to their feet, the rest of the thirteen members of the Duchess Guard soon to follow. Coralina and Daigo were quickly corralled to the side and out of the way; no one had drawn their weapons yet, but the wariness was more than obvious in their postures.

I would have remarked on their heightened paranoia at any other time, but currently - it felt justified. Something about Otto and his men was just off in a way I couldn't explain, the itch on my back disappearing to be replaced by an icy chill. To travel this late was one thing, to stop and approach as soon as we came in sight was another; it was clear that Otto had been looking for something - and he'd found it.

"Duo," Otto greeted as soon as he drew near enough to be easily heard. As the frosty reception only grew colder, the false smile slipped from his lips for something more genuine- and calculating. "Forgive me- I meant, Duchess Yuy."

The title itself fell mockingly from his lips.

"A mere Count has no business approaching His Grace the Duchess," Meilan snarled, stepping partly in front of me to draw his eyes.

I stared at the back of her head in awe; had she actually been paying attention to the snooty way my little followers in the Capital mocked others? She even bothered to replicate it, because I knew damn well Meilan couldn't care less about peerage titles.

"An outsider has no place in the business of Sanc nobles," Otto returned with calm conviction, unbothered by the insult nor the reprimand.

I grabbed onto Meilan's shoulder before she could take another threatening step forward. As much as I disliked Count Otto, there was nothing useful about engaging in hostilities with him here. Given the way Hilde and the Duchess Guard were scanning the entirety of Otto's 15-plus group of knights, it seemed they were itching to draw their weapons should anything spark. I had no intention of being the match.

"And we have no business with each other, Count," I stated mildly.

It would have been polite to offer to share our camp with him for the night, but there was no way in hell I was doing that for him. Based on the way he acted during the Capital Hunt, it would do me no favors to show him even a passing indulgence, as he'd only be too happy to exploit it to the fullest.

Otto didn't seem disheartened by my words. He hardly ever really seemed to hear me; he had always been so fascinated by whatever useless drivel the Crown Prince or Duke Noin espoused, always taken in by their words all because they knew to hold a sword and recite old tales of chivalry and honor. I remember I used to think he should just bed the Prince; since he seemed so keen on talking him up, he may as well put him in his mouth.

"We used to," Otto returned idly. "But I see your husband has convinced you otherwise."

It was only natural for Otto to think Heero had been involved in my change in some way. To Otto, I wasn't capable of thinking for myself; like a pretty lapdog, I was meant to be led around by the nose. While Heero didn't have the power of the imperial crown, he was still a Duke and the leader of Sanc's military forces; that was a power that even someone like Otto, likely to gain a higher title courtesy of his connections, could not hope to compare.

"It's only common sense to throw away foul, dirty rags," I told him coolly.

Otto's expression shuttered, his voice equally cold. "You're an awful and cruel thing, aren't you, Duo Maxwell?"

I was an easily used tool, a trophy meant to show Heero that his power was tenuous at best: his spouse and thus connection to another ducal house was shaky, his province remote, his closest friends foreign-born. Heero's influence in the court had been damaged by his father's choices and only further strained in the wake of Duke Odin Lowe's death. By taking his spouse - and thus only connection to one of the strongest families in Sanc - from him, it would only be too easy to usurp Heero's place in the nobility.

Pathetic and petty - that was Klementz Otto.

Otto drew his sword first, the rest of his men following suit with the practiced ease of the battle-ready. I understood in less than a second that this was always going to happen because this was his plan from the start.

It didn't matter how it started - only how it would end.

Otto and his men were on horseback, an advantage on the open path, though less of one in the more wooded area where we'd set up camp to the side. Mikhail and the others had drawn their swords the second after Otto had, falling back into the trees so that the horses would find it harder to charge them.

"ASAHI!" Hilde shouted, jerking me back by the elbow. She was too slight to physically toss me aside but she was damn strong as she pulled me back like a rag doll, only to then pass me off to Asahi. He turned me around by the wrist and pulled me in the direction of the foliage, his usual expression of cheery calm long gone as the sound of the horses cried out as the guards made their first strike.

"Asahi - Coralina and Daigo-" I managed out, darting a glance back just as Meilan propelled herself halfway up a tree in order to kick one of Otto's men off his horse. The man hit the ground at an odd angle, bending his neck with a dull crack that left him unmoving on the forest floor.

"Freddy and Simon were with them," Asahi replied, suddenly pivoting when he noticed another couple of riders circling around in order to corral us. "They'll get them out."

Berion dashed by us, throwing daggers in hand that he sent out with deadly precision. One blade hit a rider in the thigh, the next dagger lodged in his eye that sent him falling from his horse with a scream of pain.

I knew what the Duchess Guard intended to do; even if they could not defeat Otto's knights, they intended to fight long enough for me to get away. The only reason Otto had followed us along such a remote path is because he needed to carry out this vile plan while there were no other witnesses; by eliminating both myself and my accompanying party, they only had to dispose of the bodies and evidence before claiming any story about my absence that suited their purpose.

Perhaps they meant to kill me and claim I'd defected to Oz or Romefeller, shaming Heero by association. Or maybe they meant to kill me and blame bandits that didn't exist, and let my death be the death of Heero's connection to the influential Maxwell family. Or maybe this wasn't about Heero, but about Relena - about my connection to a power neither the Prince nor Otto knew I had until she'd shown up and taken their influence in the court.

There was a loud cry in a voice I recognized, and then Asahi's hold on my arm was torn away as Meilan's body collided with his and sent all three of us to the ground. I spat dead leaves out from my mouth and blinked the dirt out of my eyes, dazed by the sudden hit, and then my eyes focused on the red blooming onto Meilan's pants from where her mangled left leg bent awkwardly underneath her crumpled form.

I think I might have called her name - it was unlike Meilan to not answer me - but the chill had entered my throat and choked down the words. Asahi lurched back up to his feet, drawing his sword with a speed quicker than the next breath, only barely fast enough to match the blade that swung down on him as Otto pushed forward and into my line of sight.

"Your Grace, run!" Asahi grunted out, barely managing to parry another strike. I could see the way his arms shook, as if he were meeting the strikes of a war hammer rather than another polished blade, and I couldn't make sense of it.

Count Otto was a trained knight with battle experience, a far cry from some nobles who claimed knighthood but hardly knew how to carry the blade. Still, he shouldn't be such an impressive match to any of the Duchess Guard - who had regularly seen battle as part of the kingdom's militia and underwent intense training for their current roles. They regularly trained with the likes of Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei and Long Meilan; no matter how accomplished Otto was, he was nothing compared to who actually lead those from Yuy.

"Something's wrong," Hisashi's murmur sounded from beside me, though I could not see him; the smell of lilacs hung strong in the air. "There's something in him, and it's wrong."

I couldn't move, but I could see. There was a faint red outline to Otto's eyes, a hazy sort of glow that stood out all the more in the creeping darkness of a new moon night. His movements were polished and predictable, but that vulnerability meant nothing with his overwhelming power; Asahi simply couldn't manage even a glancing strike because every blow from Otto sunk him nearly a half an inch into the soil.

Wrong, it's wrong, I thought, my eyes tracking Otto's movements. The smell of blood was now thick in the air too, the sounds of the ongoing fight raging both near and far; Meilan was stirring beside me, dark eyes slowly fluttering open, though not fast enough as another knight - this one without his horse - stumbled forward. The direction of his steps was clear as he made his way towards me with increasing speed, but I couldn't tear my eyes off Otto - locked on his eyes, lined with a power whose name sat on the tip of my tongue.

The knight never reached me: Hilde's dagger sunk into his side in one second, then into his neck the next. His close proximity sent a spray of blood over my face, wet and warm, but then Hilde was tossing his body aside and closing the distance between us. She didn't say anything, only grabbed me by the arm to yank me back onto my feet.

I tried to pull free of her. "No- Meilan, Asahi-"

"You're more important," Hilde bit out, refusing to let go.

The refusal never emerged from my mouth as Hilde jerked to a stop, shoving me away just in time to parry the sword suddenly inches from her face. I fell back onto the ground at the sudden movement, the chill from before made all the more apparent by the wet puddle I'd landed in. Hilde's second hand blurred for a moment as she jutted the dagger forward, but even with her speed, she could only make the barest of scrapes across Otto's cheek.

Otto paused briefly, eyes flicking down to Hilde's drawn blades. "I was sure I'd gutted you," he mused, sounding as if he were out on an idle walk instead of in the middle of an attempted assassination. "But you're moving remarkably well for someone that shouldn't have working internal organs."

He dashed forward again, sword whip-quick and fluid; the strike sent Hilde back a couple steps but her arms didn't shake. She maintained her stance between me and Otto, aiming a kick at the man's knee that he quickly sidestepped.

"I see," Otto began with a smile; the red outlining his irises bled into a thicker line, glowing eerily in the dark. "So you're like Master Chang's wife."

That information was apparently all he needed, his next strike coming faster and harder. Hilde met each strike in succession with gritted teeth, but then Otto sent a kick straight into her gut that sent her toppling to the ground.

"Hilde!" I screamed, trying to scramble up. I couldn't quite manage it, caught in the thick weeds and mud by my feet, stumbling forward only to see what I had been tripping over.

Asahi's unseeing eyes stared back up at me. Blood was splattered liberally over his face and neck; he had been practically cleaved open, his neck partly detached from his right shoulder, the gaping wound crossing diagonally down his chest and through where his heart should have been. The wetness I'd fallen into had been his blood soaked into the forest floor, sticking muddy clumps to my hands and knees.

Asahi is dead.

I didn't call his name - some part of me knew he would answer it.

"Was it Heero Yuy?" Otto's voice grated on my ears. He was so sure of himself, so confident; he'd known that if he could best Meilan Long, then the rest of the guard would be easy pickings. "I didn't think he would ever make one like you."

Hilde Schbeiker may have been a surprise to him, but he hadn't been wrong - she was similar to Meilan in her abilities, and thus not much of a threat to him. No matter how much of my blood she had taken in, no matter how much my family had tried to cut me apart and insert the tainted bits into her - she could only have taken so much.

Just like Meilan, Hilde was just another failed remnant.

Just like...

"Ah," I felt the words emerge in a gasp from my throat, but it wasn't me who spoke them. "So it was Libra."

Otto froze, head whipping up to pin me with a wild-eyed stare.

I only faintly recalled the name, spoken in old wives' tales and in ancient myths. It sent an icy spike into the back of my head, as if the very words were enough to pry open the crumbling greenhouse that made up my shattered self and dig out the secrets I'd buried there. That's what I was, in the end: a rotting pile of secrets that only the dead could share.

"I am not Heero Yuy's," Hilde seethed, swiping her blade across Otto's shin - the only part in reach.

Otto hardly reacted, his attention wholly focused on me. It was understandable - whatever Otto was, whatever he'd done to gain Libra's grace, it was more than what Hilde had been able to glean from me in all those years. He brought his sword down, the blade puncturing through Hilde's back and out through the center of her chest, temporarily pinning her in place like the dead butterflies my brother used to keep. Her arms flailed just as their wings did during the one time I'd been allowed to touch his collection, and then Otto pulled the sword out and Hilde's blood soaked the ground below her, her breaths shallow in her gored chest.

I couldn't feel much of anything. I sat there on the ground, kneeled in Asahi's dying blood, the sounds of Hilde's and Meilan's failing life in my ears. I could still hear the others from where they continued to fight for their lives, knew that as long as Otto was nowhere near them, they had the upper hand; the dead on their side outnumbered ours, but it wouldn't remain like that so long as Otto still breathed. There was a discordant chill in the air, my nerves sharp with it, burning with the knowledge of what was coming next as Otto drew closer and closer to me.

"You chose the wrong side," Otto told me, eyes alight with Libra's power.

I knew I was going to die.

"Fuck you," I said with a smile. "I won't let you rest peacefully."

Otto swept his sword down and across my throat. Pain like never before lanced through me, the exposed muscles of my throat meeting cold air as my body attempted not to drown in my own blood. I clutched at my gouged neck with loose fingers, felt the blood pour through and soak into the collar of my shirt. The hollowed beads of the choker fell and scattered like the shards of my crumbling greenhouse, meeting dead earth and deteriorating into blood and ash. The raven swooping above us is screeching, empty, mottled chest made of clean bone. Yards away, among the wreckage of my tent, the Death's Door shattered across the floor.

I am not scared of death. It is so very hard to be frightened of something that has followed my every step, that has cared for me like a doting mother and protected me like a vigilant knight. Death has walked in the steps of everyone who has ever loved me, has worn the face of anyone who cared about my meager existence; death is present in every facet of my life, beats in time with my heart and pours from every drop of my blood.

"You," Otto's wide, horrified eyes never left me; the sword he held so confidently only moments before was hanging limply in his hands now, his bravado drained in the face of something that every soldier recognized on the battlefield. "What the hell are you?"

It's a funny question, because I don't think any one person really knows anymore, myself included. Heero's idea of me was as sweet as a dream; Hilde's idea of me was contorted by her heretical thinking; Quatre, Meilan, and the others thought I needed to be protected; Otto and the Prince believed in the easily-used fool. Whatever my brother thought of me, he'd acted on it enough that he'd used an abomination to collar me and whispered blasphemy in my ears.

My blood is dried across my throat; it was mixed with Asahi's, with a rider's, with the dead leaves, with the fragments of ghosts who had touched me in passing on their journeys to reincarnation. If ghosts were a fragment of a person's life, if Hilde was a fragment of me - then Otto was only a fragment of Libra.

And a fragment was easy enough to kill.

I pulled my hand away from my throat; the wound was healed and gone, along with the cursed container where the Maxwell family heirloom had once resided. The black pearl choker had been made from the remnants of my own ancestors, deadly to so many who had desired an heirloom and instead received a curse. It dripped now from the blood still staining my hands, each red droplet merged with its shadow, speed and volume increasing as it shaped itself into what I needed.

Deathscythe. An unspeakable relic closely tied into the origins of my bloodline and soaked in the blood of past generations. There is no clear record of it ever being used, for it has never accepted anyone to host it. A curse disguised as a wish, an abomination that had been locked away until I'd tried to wield it to save my nanny's life, and then it had only let me watch her die twice.

Death knows exactly what it wants, however.

The scythe rested cold in my hands. It was the color of the new moon and starless sky, solid and almost unseen, refusing to reflect even a glimpse of the light. The weight was negligible, because so long as it was my hand holding it, it would never fail to be wielded.

I didn't even need to think about it, mirroring the same movement I had been on the receiving end of just before: I swept the scythe across Otto's throat. The blade sliced through the flesh and bone of his neck as easily as shredding wheat in the field, his head tumbling down from his shoulders and rolling to where Meilan was now partially sat up, staring at me in transfixed horror.

I crouched down, chin balanced in one hand, the other holding the blood-born scythe aloft. "Get up," I told Otto's beheaded corpse. "And go kill all of your men."

The body was smooth in its movements, moving with the same ease and speed as it had in life. I could see Otto's ghost attached to each cold limb, essentially chained to his own corpse, though like all specters cursed to be bound to their mortal shell, his ghost was ignorant of its situation. In the same way I had inadvertently kept my mother bound to her deathbed, I could keep Otto chained to his.

The body is another tool I can use. The ghost is another weapon I can wield.

I told you I wouldn't let you rest peacefully.