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Strictly business, I tell myself. Simple public relations promenading, a validation of the new regime; the same silly process that has taken place since ever there was a government. Two people get married for mutual gain disguised as concern for society; they go out together every morning, sign some bills, shake some hands, attend a few meeting, pose for pictures, and return in separate cars. The only life they have together is a public one; their personal affairs stay personal.
Except, of course, there have * been* no personal affairs. At least, not for me.
Oh, I know about him and Trowa Barton. How could I not? He allows the man to live in our house. A personal bodyguard, he tells the public, although they, and I, know that Trowa is much more than that. I hardly ever see him, of course; I am not permitted in the east wing, where Quatre's apartments are located (and I can only assume that they are as luxurious as mine; I have never seen the inside of them). Everyone in the world knows that I, Relena Darlian Peacecraft-Winner, am trapped in a loveless, faithless marriage to a man who will never find me attractive. They also know that there is basically nothing going on in * my* bedroom, at least as far as other men are concerned. That's one thing I respect about Dorothy Catalonia: she has never given any indication to the public that she sometimes visits my own chambers in the south wing. She knows how to keep quiet.
She was the one who tipped me off about the other, more infrequent visitor to the east wing.
When I found out, the news nearly broke my mind. I attempted to kill myself, as a matter of fact, and you better believe Rashid did a good job of covering * that* up. As far as I know, not even Quatre himself found out. Not that he would have been very concerned.
The fact that my husband is gay doesn't bother me much. Quatre let me in on that little secret before we made the wedding arrangements, and we both agreed that it would present no obstacle in attaining our mutual goals, although as a woman, it is kind of difficult dealing with the fact that I am married to a man who in no way finds me desirable. The fact that he is sleeping with Trowa doesn't bother me either. From what I've managed to glean from Dorothy, Trowa is a perfectly respectable man who loves Quatre very much, and also feels some sort of brotherly affection for me. Quatre told me once that he even stood up for me to Wu Fei! That in itself was enough to gain * my* admiration.
It's the other visitor who is killing my soul. Of all the men in Earth and space, Quatre, why did you have to pick Heero Yuy?!
Dorothy brought the news to me one rainy night, I can't even remember the exact day; my memory fails me sometimes. Must be the pills. She came to my chambers sometimes, did I tell you that? She did her best to comfort me, to see to my needs. A woman * does* have needs, you know. She was massaging my back, and she told me she'd seen Heero sneaking up the back stairs just before her. I admit, I did sort of…freak out, I guess you'd say…well, actually, I threw the bedside lamp at her head. It took about ten minutes to get me calmed down enough so I was only crying instead of crying and screaming his name. I managed to convince her that I was okay, and she could leave…and then, of course, I sneaked over to the east wing, crept right up to Quatre's front door, and sure enough, I heard Heero's sweet voice moaning, moaning like I had only heard in dreams of him. Everything went black then, and when I awoke, I was back in my room. Quatre never said anything about it, so I suppose I must have gone back there in a sort of fugue state. I know there would have been dire consequences if he had caught me listening at the door. These days a man can divorce his wife for nothing more than because he wants to, and with the Cinq Kingdom in shambles, I need Quatre's financial backing to stay in power as Queen of the World Nation. He needs me too, to give the trusted name of Peacecraft to his regime…but he can find ways around that, I'm sure.
Anyway, it was that night that I went kind of nuts and called Catherine, hoping to get her to come to me, to hurt Quatre and Trowa, but she is fiercely loyal to her brother, and brushed me off. So I swallowed a bottle of pills, I can't remember which ones. Lucky for me, I guess, that Rashid came to my rooms to tell me that Quatre wanted a private audience with me at my disposal. He got me to the palace physicians in time and made my excuses to Quatre.
By the next week, I had recovered enough, or so I thought, to meet with him in his office. I was actually really nervous; it must be important to warrant an intrusion into the east wing.
Boy, was I right.
"Please sit down, Relena," Quatre said, motioning to the comfortable chair in front of the huge teak desk. I could hardly keep from looking around enough to obey him; even Quatre's office was better furnished than mine, and I had the best of everything! When I managed to get my curiosity under control, I asked him why he had summoned me there.
"It has come to my attention," he said nervously, "that the citizens of the World Nation are losing some trust in their royal couple."
Oh no. "Why is that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Well, Relena…" Quatre fidgeted. "They want a royal * family*."
I had known this was coming for a while. They * always* wanted a royal family. "I suppose I should report to the clinic for artificial insemination after this meeting?" I remarked, a bit sarcastically. Quatre's nervous expression intensified; he was and still is a sensitive guy, and fancied he knew the toll his lifestyle took on me, although I know he didn't know * I* knew about him and Heero.
"That won't be necessary," he replied, growing ever more fidgety. "You see…every palace has eyes and ears, and this one has its share. The people of the World Nation want to know that even after the wars, the institution of family is still intact, that their rulers are really as loving as they seem to be.."
My husband of three years cast his eyes down as the implications hit me like a falling mobile suit. "You can't mean…"
"I'm afraid I do mean it," Quatre mumbled, eyes still downcast.
I could do nothing but stare at him. I was only twenty--* we* were only twenty-and I didn't want to be pregnant at twenty, at least, not with Quatre's baby. Finally the anger hit me like a tidal wave, and I rose from my seat. "When will the blessed event take place?" I said coldly.
"Tonight," he replied, too hastily. "The sooner the better."
Of course. Bad enough to be married to a man I didn't love, worse still that he was gay and saw sleeping with me as some unpleasant chore, to be disposed of as quickly as possible.
"Just…just come to my chambers at ten tonight." Quatre held his head in his hands, as if the very thought of touching me physically hurt him.
I was getting madder by the second. "And what guarantee do we have that I'll get pregnant after only one try?"
Quatre raised his head to look into my eyes for the first time since I'd entered his office, the fatigue of his duties showing on his once-young face.
"You have been slipped fertility drugs with your meals for the last month."
Now I could not control the fury boiling inside me. "What?!" I screamed, and swept innumerable and doubtless important papers off his immaculate desk. "Where do you get the nerve-"
"Please, Relena," Quatre interrupted tiredly, rising and leaning over his desk. "You can't tell me you relish the idea of sleeping with me any more than I do. But it has to be done, and I think we'll both agree that we would rather it only have to happen once. This way, you'll become pregnant immediately. No muss, no fuss."
"No fuss?!" I was still screaming. "It's MY body! I don't WANT to be pregnant!"
"That doesn't matter." Quatre was becoming frustrated now, I could tell. "You are Queen of the World Nation. You exist to serve your people. Your people want you to have a baby, and have a baby you shall. It is the * only* baby we ever have to have. If you find a man you like, and are discreet about it, I will claim your child as mine, as long as it doesn't get in the way of our child. Just agree to do this now, and you will never have to touch me again."
There was no way to win. If I continued to fight him, he could dethrone and divorce me. In the worst-case scenario, the people could become disgruntled and overthrow us.
"I guess I have no choice," I said, falling back into my chair. "I'll have the baby."
Quatre sighed. "Thank you, Relena. I will do my best to make it as pleasurable as possible for you. If you want, I can summon Dorothy…"
"No, please don't." I waved his suggestion away. I didn't think Quatre would be able to handle a horny Dorothy. "Let's just get it done."
"The reason I ask is that…I may have to have a little help, if you understand my meaning…" Quatre examined the toes of his finely-made shoes. I looked into his face, and what I saw chilled me to the bone: some part of him * wanted* this, to be with me and Trowa at once. Maybe Trowa had caught wind of my call to Catherine and put Quatre up to this. I didn't care at that point.
"That's fine," I said in a monotonous voice that reminded me of Heero. In that moment I wanted to be like him, to be able to turn my emotions off at will. "Just do what you have to do."
I left his office dreading the coming of the moon for the first time in my life.
9:55 p.m.
Dorothy had helped me dress, and now I stood outside Quatre's apartments, wearing only a short white lace nightie, a sheer white housecoat, and very small white lace panties. I'd left the two small braids of my childhood behind me long ago, but she had insisted I wear them tonight, and had tied them with bits of white silk. I felt like a little girl playing dress-up in a game far too old for her.
"White," Dorothy had said to me. "White's the color a bride should wear to her marriage bed." She knew very well that I'd spent my wedding night with her, so I suppose she was joking. She didn't seem jealous at all; she was very open about such matters, and anyway she was only with me because I let her do pretty much any sexual thing she wanted to do to me. I didn't care; I closed my eyes and pretended she was Heero. She probably pretended that I was my brother, so she didn't mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, the double doors finally opened. Quatre, wearing a red smoking jacket and slippers, beckoned me inside, barely sparing my outfit a second glance. He led me to the bedroom, where Trowa waited, sitting on the bed, wearing black silk boxers and nothing else.
Standing by the bar with a glass of something dark in his hand was Heero Yuy, wearing boxers which matched Trowa's and eyeing me appreciatively.
I began to shake my head frantically. "No…no," I whispered.
Heero began to walk toward me. "Believe it or not, Relena, I've wanted to see you like this for a long time," he said, wearing one of his rare smiles. I felt my whole body melt.
I gaped at him in amazement as he continued, "Of course, we can't * actually* have sex, since we must make sure Quatre makes you pregnant-that's the mission-but I hope I can at least make your experience a little more…enjoyable."
Quatre swallowed nervously. "Let's get started, shall we?" He turned me to face him, lowering his face to mine and kissing me. It was the most loveless touch I had ever experienced and remains so to this day. It didn't help that I could feel the heat radiating from Heero's body, less than six inches behind me.
Quatre gave it the old college try, kissing me for about a minute before giving up and walking to Trowa instead. Trowa welcomed my husband into his arms, kissing him passionately and ridding him of the smoking jacket. Quatre was naked underneath. Already a growing bulge could be discerned beneath the black silk. I watched in awe; I had never seen two males together in this way.
I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. I wheeled around to gaze into the face I had loved since I first caught sight of it on that beach. God, I with I had gone with Father that day…
Heero leaned in, close enough to my ear to send shivers down my spine, and whispered: "I set this up." I could smell the liquor he'd been drinking. I felt as if I would fall.
He kissed me, gingerly at first, but with growing passion. I felt myself spinning in a downward spiral, anchored upright only by Heero's strong arms. Not even Dorothy's expert caresses had ever awakened this feeling in me.
He slowly, carefully, slid the white housecoat off first my right shoulder, then my left, guiding it down my arms and letting it fall to the floor. Goosebumps followed his practiced fingers as they trailed their way back up my arms, coming to rest at the nape of my neck, entangling themselves in my hair, moving restlessly, as if he couldn't wait to touch more of me. A warm tongue explored my mouth wantonly. Surprisingly soft lips captured mine again and again. The fingers traced the lines of my neck and chin, tilting my head back to give the lips better access to the tender skin of my throat. I could barely think, yet * Heero, this is Heero* ran through my mind like a mantra. * Heero* was gently biting the muscles of my neck, making me squirm both toward and away from his questing mouth; * Heero's* hands were now falling down my body to cup my breasts, making me arch my back and bringing soft noises from deep in my throat; it was * Heero's* slim length I was feeling pressing urgently against my suddenly naked lower body, pressing against a place that previously only Dorothy and I had explored. He was cupping my buttocks now, forcing me closer, dropping sweet kisses along my neck and chest, returning to my lips for teasing nibbles, lapping at my earlobes, tasting every part of me, God he was * tasting* me, and then he was leaning against the bar to better reach my breasts with his mouth, licking at the nipples gently, now biting, now tracing the circumference with his tongue-
"Heero, bring her here, it's time," Quatre's lust-anguished voice moaned. I shook my head, surely the pleasure couldn't stop now, I wanted Heero to be my first-
Like a hero in a dimestore romance novel, he picked me up and carried me over to the bed, lying down with his knees dangling off the edge and pulling me atop him. We groaned in unison as I fell onto his erection. I was bent over, my behind in the air, Quatre behind me, and Trowa behind him.
I imagine that Quatre closed his eyes and winced as he pushed his stiff member into me. I groaned painfully into Heero's mouth; it seemed my husband would be my first male lover after all. Heero's own arousal pressed more urgently against me, spurred by my noisemaking. Quatre was moving inside me now, and it was not so painful anymore but almost pleasant, and I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted to because Trowa was slamming into Quatre and making him grunt loudly, pushing him deeper into me, and the expression on Heero's face as the triple strength of us massaged his erection were like heaven to me. Even so, I felt intense hatred toward Heero for making this happen, for Quatre and Trowa for participating, for the people of my nation for wanting me to have a baby-and yet, there was sweet, unbridled lust, the indescribable sensation of having another human inside me for the first time, having the man I'd loved for five years beneath me, digging nails into my back and kissing me, of being thrust into with the double force of Quatre and Trowa…I could do nothing but moan loudly with every thrust, it might have been Heero's name or maybe just wordless sounds, and finally Trowa slammed into Quatre one last time, grunting with the force of his climax and driving Quatre into me, bringing his release. I felt his member pulsing, his warm seed pumping into me, as his orgasm pushed me down harder onto Heero, triggering his climax, spilling hot fluid onto my belly, his cock pulsing against that magical place, and I came harder than I had ever come, finally screaming, finally sated, the four of us moaning and sighing with the aftereffects of our shared lust.
When the smoke cleared, I was the only one crying.
Quatre and Trowa had the decency to leave then, grabbing clothes at random and disappearing into the sitting area, leaving Heero to comfort me. In my shame and physical pain, I was hardly aware of either their exit or Heero's soothing hands cleaning the remnants of our romp from my body, as if I were a child.
I have to give him credit. He stayed with me for a little while, holding me as I rocked back and forth crying, running gentle hands over my hair and back. He even dressed me, and found a heavier housecoat in Quatre's closet; I was shivering as if I'd been in a snowbank instead of an orgy for the last hour. Although I wished he would, he didn't try to make love to me himself. Maybe that was a good thing. I think he may have carried me back to my chambers, although that may just be more wishful thinking, false memories or something like that. I do remember, though, that Dorothy was waiting when I got back to my room, and that she drew me a bath and put me to bed, and that when I awoke the next day I knew I was pregnant.
Nine months later, on December 31, AC 200, the anniversary of my marriage to Quatre Raberba Winner, I gave birth to Arwen Quatrina Peacecraft-Winner. She's an adorable little girl, the spitting image of her father with her pale blonde hair and turquoise eyes. Sometimes I can't stand to look at her.
I didn't see much of Quatre during my pregnancy. After Arwen was born, though, there was a slight but definite change in him. She captured his heart, as little girls tend to do to their daddies, and she delights him thoroughly. And through her, Quatre makes a genuine effort to learn more about me. We go to state dinners and social functions on each other's arms, and leave in the same car. He sometimes visits my rooms, and we have friendly talks late into the night while watching Rashid play with the baby. But we have never spent another night in carnal embrace; he's never asked, and I never offer.
Trowa has moved out of Quatre's rooms. He still acts as our personal bodyguard, extending his able protection to me, and even speaks to me once in a while, as his relationship with Quatre seems to have evolved into a deep and lasting friendship.
Dorothy has moved on. Her kind of comfort is no comfort to me anymore. She writes occasionally, but the space between her letters grows with each mailing.
Heero comes to visit only once or twice a year, and that only to check on me and the baby. It hurts me to see him, and it hurts more to see him go, but I think it is for the best. I have to think of my baby now, and of the people of the World Nation.
But, to the best of my knowledge, he has never reentered the east wing.
And neither have I.