10-Jul-2003
Noin POV, light shojo-ai, set in the early days of the Sanc Kingdom, prior to the arrival of Dorothy.
For Akai.
Relena always rises at seven o'clock. I know, because I always get up at six-thirty so that I can watch her. I take a shower and brush my teeth, and pull on some underwear and a T-shirt -- no need for full uniform at so early an hour -- and then I go into her room, just as she's beginning to stir.
Relena's room is decorated in cream and muted pink, not my colours at all, and the carpet is soft an pale, which used to make me feel out of place, but now I don't think about it. Her bed is a single, pushed against the wall directly opposite the window, and when she wakes up, she never fails to turn her head and look at the town, still grey in the morning light. I don't think she ever closes the curtains.
I smile at her then, and she says, "Good morning, Noin," far past being surprised to find me there. We both know there are things to be done -- there always are -- but we let it be for the time, because it's morning and cool but not cold, and the world too light to be weighing it down with cares.
I don't carry a gun any more. Relena doesn't wish it. I don't carry a gun, but I always have one nearby, and the palace has better security, and more guards, than she realises. I know it's important she stays true to her ideals, but I can't lose her. The Pacifist cause has had enough martyrs to last for generations. Relena's too good for that fate. She's going to live.
We eat breakfast in the conservatory downstairs. It's too hot to sit in later in the day, but when the sun's only part the way up, it's perfect. Relena has toast and orange juice, and I have a mug of tea with lots of milk and sugar. I started living on the stuff at the Academy, and though I've cut down since then, it's still a bit of a staple for me. Relena gives it a disapproving look, and I retaliate by teasing her about eating kids' food, and we try to make light of the fact that, if not for the war, we'd neither of us be much more than children right now.
Our dirty things get cleared away into the dishwasher, and then we return to the table, and talk in soft voices about little things that'd sound silly later on in the day. I cover her hand with mine, and she turns hers over so that they're touching, palm to palm, and we stay that way until she eventually pulls away, stroking my knuckles with her thumb as if to reassure me that she likes the touch; it's only, she knows it can't last.
After a while, the rest of the household start to get up, but we stay sitting together, just her and me, for as long as we can, like waiting for the tide to come in. It's quiet still, although the silence about when we first came down is gone; broken with the first murmurings not confined to our conversation. Soon, we'll be bustled upstairs to get properly dressed, and then Relena'll be busy the rest of the day with debates and decisions, and all the thoughts her advisors can throw at her, but, just for this stolen hour, she's mine.
I love the early morning, almost more than everything else in the world.
Fin.
(:./psyche/daybreak)
