October 11, 2000
for angel ikari
happy belated birthday, angel. your birthday was in september, right?
pairing: 6+1, implied 4x1
warnings: AU, fusion with a re-telling of Cinderella
BURN THIS.
Burn this.
Burn it until the pristine white edges curl and flutter into the grating as ashes.
Is your fireplace cold, Heero? Stir the coals with a poker, rouse it to a kindling flame. I fear what comes to pass shall be the death of us both.
You must believe me when I say that there are circumstances at hand beyond my control.
How innocent you seemed, fresh from a war, washed clean of the blood!
I wanted to take you into my arms then, but Fate and her horrid devices kept you far away, first at my sister's side as her advisor, then warming Quatre's bed.
What a tyrant you must have thought me, so cruel and unnecessarily denying you entrance to the ball. My heart twisted painfully as I sent the mercenaries into your room to raze your clothes and destroy your finery.
They tell tales of the reams of silk and bolts of fine wool, the sash given to you in honor of your service to the Crown, your mother's pearl necklace you intended to have made into a dagger hilt as soon as you had means. So proud; you would never accept charity, Heero, my love. All destroyed, shattered, torn, broken.
You must think that I despise you, that I sought to instead fill Quatre's role as his vassal and bedmate.
I would have, if it would have spared you an ounce of blood.
The look on your face as you entered your guest chambers, your skin glowing after a short ride through the countryside I shall never forget.
You made a sound like a despairing canary, voicebox crushed, and sagged against the wall, so desperate. "What am I to do now?" you whispered and I thought I would die on the spot.
Aha! I said to myself sternly, pressing my hands to my lips, here is the end of this madness. For I had heard tales and tales, none of which are fit to repeat here, for fear of bringing his Highness' wrath upon our humble heads.
And yet you arrived, proudly noble in a dusty riding jacket and torn breeches, and you bowed before the Prince as an equal, not as a subservient.
Who did not see the lust alight in his eyes? I sensed the night's consequences would be dire, and so I sent a horseman to fetch you and bring you to my estate.
How could I know that my favors were so wretched to you, the dearest light of my heart?
I sit here by the dying light in my study. I have retired here, Heero, to my estate outside the borders of Quatre's kingdom.
It is ironic that such a beautiful, kind-hearted man should meet such a brutal destiny. There are rumors, as rumors go, slithering from one slick tongue to the next.
That on your wedding night he had a gold collar branded to your neck.
That when your virginal blood graced your shared marital bed, your screams filled the castle, rendering even the stoutest of heart unable to move, petrified, sorrowful.
That you lie listlessly on your bed, deaf and mute for hours, unable to move your hands, to force your mind into reality. That he takes you even when you sift in and out of a deathless sleep, eyes unblinking, tearing.
And torture, I have heard of, his collection of whips and chains hidden in vaults and chests and secret panels.
I pray for your soul, Heero. Understand that I mean you no ill will; I would only cherish you as an equal, and perhaps, my lover. You will be safe within my walls.
So listen carefully to these words, for there will be only one last chance. As your husband makes leave to visit Cataluņa to consolidate his holdings there, there will a changing of the guard ten glasses past midnight tonight.
Hurry down the back stairs we played on as children; my most trusted manservant will await your presence there, with horses and food and papers that will see you past the guards. Love, I have heard tales of your haggard appearance, of your thin face and fragile body. Perhaps none shall recognize you.
Above all, do not forget to burn this letter. Or do I presume too much, and these words, this paper already lies consumed in the fire, your hatred for me fueling the flames higher and higher?
Well, even though that was a terrible birthday present...
love,
a+b
Ariana and Bianca
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