He was seated on plush velvet directly across from the Triumvirate themselves, and next to them, two young men that Duo assumed to be Odin's sons. One of them wore a gold bonding ring around his crooked left ring finger; that had to be Trowa, the oldest, engaged to the King of Duo's homeland, Ralph.
The other was a youth of distinctly eastern features, presumably Wufei, his dark silk hair bound by a leather thong. Mistrustful eyes darted from side to side, taking in the seating positions of the people around him, their clothing and what it concealed, and what it did not. He noticed the boy's eyes lingered on the heaving bosom of a lady with straw blonde hair as she threw back her head and laughed. "Lady Relena," said her companion as she made a great show of adjusting her gloves, "you shouldn't speak quite so loudly."
"I do as I wish," she said, blinking as if she hadn't issued a blatant challenge to the other less liberated women at the table. "And you, young sir?" He felt a 'discreet' hand pawing at his lap, loosening the laces of his trousers.
"Do you do as you wish, or do you cater to your father's whims? Are you a man?" Duo bit his lap, noting that Wufei's hands had suddenly clenched around the delicate swan-neck stem of his goblet.
"I would say nay," said Duo, shrugging, "for I have no father to cater to." Relena opened her mouth wide, as if she were waiting for someone to drop a rose petal onto her tongue, but one of the Triumvirate rescued him before she could continue to needle him. At the time, of course, it hadn't seemed like an attempt at salvaging the light ambiance of dinner, but the conversational fumbling of an old man who knew not of what he interrupted. Thankfully, Relena's hands ceased their investigation and turned to other important tasks, playing with her gold-bright hair, toying with the edge of her corset.
"Maxwell," said Treize, delicately spearing a caramelized rose stem whose thorns had been plucked like feathers from a fowl, "you bear news of your country?" He peered at him with old eyes that had seen many battles through copper telescopes.
"Yes," said Duo. "As you know, we've recently signed a treaty with Sanquadia, which I believe is beneficial to us both. The King is most pleased with how the courting has proceeded, as well as the diplomatic implications of the joining."
Trowa muttered something under his breath, his eyes focused on something on the tablecloth. Duo knew better than to inquire about his words; from the way Odin's brow had tightened, he suspected the prince would be called on it soon enough.
"Excellent," said Odin, tilting his head. "And Jacob is well, I trust?"
You trust, thought Duo. Of course you *trust*; you already know, seeing as how there are Sanquadian spies all over the castle, pounding the corn into meal, sweeping out the kitchen hearth, perhaps attending to the Prince's private rooms. "But of course," he said. Trowa had dissolved back into his murky cloud of silence, and did not even pick at his food.
"How goes the battle with the hill people?" said Zechs, his voice gravelly. He had the sound of a rich man who had smoked too many poppy cigars in his lifetime, sharply contrasting with a long scar bridging his nose. Duo thought it looked like someone had deliberately drawn a curved blade across his skin, marking him with a crescent tattoo.
"As well as can be expected, Lord Zechs," said Duo, pausing in conversation to pop the ripe head of a rose into his mouth. The tartness of it exploded there, momentarily rendering him speechless. It was a sour that ached so badly that it was almost sweet, a sugary combination that made his gums throb and his teeth tingle.
"Is there trouble?" asked Odin, sawing through his dinnerplate bouquet with rapid jerks of his arm.
By his side, the Lady Relena tossed her hair over his shoulder, laughing enough to shake the candelabras stationed at even intervals down the table. "You shouldn't be so frigid, Hilde," she said, winking slowly. It was a kind of trick Duo had seen prostitutes using on the streets, the interminable lowering of thick, dark lashes against creamy skin. To his surprise, the blonde woman turned, resting an elbow on the table, to listen to his reply.
Always watching those who were watching their exchange, Duo said, "I would love to continue our debriefing...but as I am now feeling quite faint--perhaps the exertions of the trip--I believe it would be better to carry on our conversation elsewhere. Perhaps at a later time," he added, smiling at the spark of understanding in Odin's eye. The older man began to fiddle with one of his gold rings, rubbing the face of the large blue stone absently. "I shall excuse myself, then--with your leave?"
Odin waved him off, turning his attentions elsewhere. The pace at which conversation continued was amazing, making Duo feel as if his long northern vowels and deliberate inflection had been backing up the flow of words. He hurried from the dining hall, making two wrong left turns before finding himself in the courtyard between buildings.
Duo, the _gods_ take the man who had designed the castle, couldn't find his building, and wished he had asked for an escort to take him back to his rooms. "Damn it all to Hell," he groaned. It must have been dinnertime for everyone, even the staff; there were no errand boys, no servants walking around, that he could ask. He went back into the building he had come from. Attempting to find the dining hall was no mean feat; it almost felt as if the entire ground floor had shifted around while he had been meandering outside.
He was treated to the sight of several tapestries, woven from dried roses of different colors, and the framed portrait of Merlin, exile from the green country in the south, and founder of Sanquadia, hanging over stacks and stacks of rose bouquets. "Quaint," he said, his mouth contorting into an expression of disgust. What extreme decadence.
It was then that Duo heard the soft sound of singing, overlaid by some kind of running water. The voice was not beautiful in the traditional sense of alternating clarity and bravado, but rather in the constant intonation of soft nonsensical syllables, words with no meaning, sounds from thin air.
He followed the melody around sharp corners and down long, gloomy corridors lit by tiny torches. Duo scowled as it trailed off, moving more purposefully when it reappeared, floating through the air, enticing him by the ears as the scent of freshly baked bread does to the nose.
"Lost, Maxwell?"
He whirled around, his heart trembling in its fragile bone cage, and blanched as Wufei stood before him, muscular arms crossed. Whereas Odin's power was locked in his eyes, and their power to frighten, this younger man's entire body was coiled and waxed rope, a living testament to strength. Duo would not have wanted to go against him in any duel, let alone in real combat.
"Yes," said Duo, straining to hear more of that soft voice, but it was gone. "It seems the very building is against me. I tried to find my way back, but every turn I took that had once before been correct led me further astray." Wufei shrugged, his eyes slanted like the diagonal body of a falcon, streaking towards some unnamed prey.
"That is why none of the foreigners dare traverse the buildings without a guide." He clapped his hands twice. At the sound, two young girls seemed to slither from the very walls, their eyes wet and knowing. "Take care, Maxwell. Their favor is as capricious as Relena's choice of bedmate." With that, the man strode away, leaving the servants to take him back to his room.
"Their favor?" The Triumvirate, thought Duo. He's warning me against his own father. What kind of place is this? The girls waited patiently for him to emerge from his thoughts, swaying slightly from side to side, the rotation of their hips almost obscene in the context of their small frames. They looked like emaciated dolls, bodies formed from a thin layer of clay over bone. "Let's go," he said.
"So?" prompted Howard as Duo collapsed against his bed. "How was it? Did you get a good look at Lady Relena's bosom? Her mother was well-endowed, and if the stories be true, I'd wager a copper penny on it, she bears no less a weight."
Not even bothering to sit up, he kicked his boots off and tucked his hands behind his head. "Much less than she wanted," he said, closing his eyes against the ghost feeling of fingers playing over his inner thigh. "No good gossip, really. But we've got as long as it takes to--"
Moving faster than Duo had ever seen him before, Howard clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes serious. "The walls have ears, Duo," he said, slowly releasing his master. "And mouths, and eyes, and hands with which to strangle you in your very bed. It's dangerous to speak, dangerous to suppose. Don't even think it. You daren't sleep here as if you lie in your birth cradle."
"You are imagining things," said Duo, but that night, he slept not at all.
End Part Two
Bianca
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