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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
2nd March AC 198 Sanc Stephansbourg The Coachman’s Rest Time: 03:30 Relena //This is all a nightmare and I will wake up from it and laugh about the silliness of it and go on about my duties and … and … I … want so desperately to wake up and know that it was a dream.// Relena sat on the bed, legs crossed under her as she ran the brush through her hair. She had welcomed the heat of the shower and the chance to feel clean, to wash away the strangeness. The day felt unreal, otherworldly. Not so many hours ago she had been at a garden party talking to Quatre and enjoying the freedom of not being the hostess, merely a guest. Where had it all gone wrong? Of course, it had started out to be a horrible day, even worse than the day before had been. Why had she not understood that her grandfather’s affection for her was merely a reflection of the use he could make of her, the use that everyone saw when they made a note of her presence? Did he know? Did he know this horrible, terrible secret and was that why he had acted to secure her cooperation and gratitude? Well, her eyes were open now. She knew. She knew that beyond a doubt he would always see her as a tool. //That’s cold, Relena. Very, very cold but what else am I supposed to think? He does not see me as a person, his granddaughter. He sees me as a tool. A key to be placed within a lock and turned at just the right moment. A political tool. Why me, grandfather? Was I so much more malleable than Milliardo? You threw him away when he was little more than a baby, didn’t you? To protect your own position you threw him away. Did you know about … about the … rumors? Did you know that the Peacecrafts were … Was he not what you wanted to come from the marriage but you suspected that I was? But you thought I was dead and he would have been the only tool you had … I don’t … I can’t think. Please, please let me wake up.// If she did not admit to anything, if she avoided saying the words it would all go away and she could wake. The shower had been heaven and the chance to change into something both warm and comfortable had given her the opportunity to steady her thoughts and begin to dismiss the notion of fantasy. She had fallen into a fairytale that was a nightmare and it was time to wake. Her alarm clock would ring at any minute and she would wake to face the mundane day to day tasks before beginning the endless round of meetings and public appearances. She would wake now. Now. This very minute. //Damn. Why won’t it go away?// She had settled on the bed to brush out her hair and wait while Sally took her turn in the shower. During this quiet time she could listen to the muted sound of the storm raging beyond the sturdy old walls of the Inn. There was no indication in that sound that the storm would abate at any time soon and she shivered at the thought that they very well might have been caught out in the mountains in its icy grip. Strange as it was, horrible as the things she had been told were, it was better to be here, in the inn than slowly freezing to death trapped within the storm. //Everything has changed. Everything. Suddenly, without warning and frighteningly … changed. I … I’m not … It was bad enough waiting all day to hear news of what has been happening on Mars but now … Now I … I’m not …// The brush paused in its rhythmic comforting motion.
She would not think it. She would not say it. She would not … // It has been such an long day and I still have no idea what is happening out there. It’s so far away. Too far. Are the babies alright? Is … is Milliardo alive and Noin … How has she dealt with it all? It’s all so unreal. I’m stuck in a country Inn with people who tell me there is a secret archive containing priceless historical documents and … and documented evidence of … Nooo. It’s not possible. They can’t prove a thing. They can’t. They can’t prove that there are … abilities … psychic abilities within the Peacecraft line. It’s all fantasy. It is all nothing but a nightmare.// The brush slowly began to creep back toward her drying hair. The room was warming by the minute and it was comfortable both in temperature and furnishings. The age of the Inn was obvious in the architecture and in the décor chosen by the proprietors and in the very feel of the building. It felt old and that age lent credence to the words that she desperately wanted to ignore. She was not … // People are dying out there. Mars has become a battleground and no one knows it or why it has happened … People are dying and all these people can talk about are witches and sorcery and everyone knows that there are no such things. Anyone would think Sanc still lives in the Dark Ages. It’s a very bad dream and I wish I would wake up.// She had learned over the years that wishing and hoping rarely produced any of the desired results. Disturbingly one thing she could not deny was the impression that both the old man and his wife had been quite serious when they had talked about the ‘magic’ of the Peacecraft line. Initially they had seemed so down to Earth, solid and dependable much like the old Inn itself and they had made every effort possible to see her and her entourage comfortable. Her feelings of comfort and welcome had turned into something else when they had begun to talk of the past and her brother. Magic and supernatural powers did not belong in this age of colony travel and space exploration to open up new worlds. How had they even begun to talk about magic and how her Peacecraft ancestors were supposedly capable of being able to protect the country throughout the ages? Fairytales. //You might as well talk about ghosties, ghoulies and goblins as though you believed in their existence. Are there Trolls under the bed?// This was ridiculous. Nothing but fairytales. It had to be. //All of it flights of fantasy, superstitious rubbish but … they seem to take it so seriously. In this day and age I find it so hard to believe that this type of ignorance still exists. I would have thought this kind of thinking had been left behind centuries ago. Come to Sanc, the tourist media say. Come to Sanc and step back into a time long gone … Well, they have that right at least. It’s not just the architecture that belongs to a bygone age.// Was it rife out here in the mountains, old superstitions that were better forgotten generations ago? What else lurked out here that she needed to know about? She would need to work on improving the education system to stamp out this backwards thinking and ensure that Sanc progressed with its recovery and that the old barbaric days were left behind them all. Education was the way to bring the population up to date and prepare them to become a part of this One World Nation that they must welcome if peace for everyone was to be maintained. In this modern and peaceful age such superstitions could only lead to discontent and the danger of war would eventually rear its head once again. Too many people had paid for this peace for her to permit it to die. // Tradition is all well and good but superstition just has to be dealt with. It can not be ignored but … I have to be fair and that means that I should investigate this talk of magic. Sally gave it another name and she has never been a fool. These archives he spoke of. The King’s archive. I need to find out more about that and investigate what knowledge is held there. If they expect me to believe them then they must show me their so called evidence but how could they expect me to trust that evidence? Most of it would be from centuries ago and there was no such thing as Science then … well, I suppose there was but it was rare to find men of learning amidst the superstition. I am not such a fool as to believe what they say without evidence and how can you trust evidence from so long ago? In my position flights of fantasy are more than merely dangerous. I have to be down to Earth at all times, serious and well informed in order to function for the betterment of the peace. Nothing can be done to help anyone if I should believe anything or anyone without the appropriate research and information. I have to be able to judge what is fact from that which is fiction. That principle is simply common sense. // What the old man had told her simply had to be superstitious rubbish. As if it was actually possible for anyone, let alone her birth father to have an ability that would enable him to talk mutually hostile parties around to peaceful resolution in the blink of an eye. Utter fantasy. No, it was clear that the old man who ran the Inn had a penchant for fairytales and he was just senile enough to confuse such wild stories with the real world. //Idiot. You are doing exactly what you said you would not. Judging without all of the evidence before you and all because you don’t want to be considered a … a … I can’t believe in this.// Relena sighed, her fingers closing around the brush in a grip that left her knuckles white. She needed control. She needed to get a grip on herself. So much had happened and it was far from over and it was only to be expected that she draw the line somewhere or go down into screaming hysterics. With very precise care she set the brush on the bed at her side and closed her eyes against the sight of the very feminine old world charm of the room. She was to share this room with Sally and soon enough the Preventer agent would be finished in the shower and by that time she needed to sort out her impressions of all that she had learned. The little fact and the large fantasy. If only she could really dismiss all of the talk as fantasy. //I want to dismiss it as fantasy and that is the trouble. Father trained me to think first and act second and for so long I’ve acted first and thought about it somewhere down the road. Just look at my past record. Why am I still alive? Because there are people who believe that I can bring about peace and they work tirelessly to keep me breathing. Why do they believe me? Did I earn their belief or did I … Did I …// It was more than merely superstition. Somewhere deep within she understood that it was more than the deluded ramblings of an old couple too isolated for their own good. She was a fairly astute judge of character and her people skills had improved over the years. If they had not then she had no right to even pretend to be a politician. Much as she might prefer it otherwise he really did not strike her as being deluded nor insane. He was too alert, mentally and physically to be senile and there had been nothing about him that had been anything other than normal, discounting, of course, his uncanny likeness to a fairytale character. She had to be honest with herself and in that regard she admitted that initially he had seemed to be a quiet, serious and rather down to earth individual. Right up until the moment he had begun to talk about witchcraft. //Woah, hold it right there. Don’t go off on that track again. Focus. Sally will be out any time now and you need to come to terms with this before then.// He claimed that he was in actual fact the archivist for the King’s secret archives and if that was so the position would demand that he be aware of the need for documented evidence. Especially in this day and age. It was likely that he was in truth a canny old man and that he expected her as the heir to the Peacecrafts to seek out the evidence. Heir to the Peacecrafts? He would see her in her capacity as hereditary sovereign and in that light it made sense that he would have evidence that would stand up to her modern outlook and thorough and very scientific examination. He claimed to have documented evidence that would prove both his story and his theory concerning the Peacecraft bloodline. Evidence that would label the psychic potential in the Peacecraft line and was traceable back through the generations not for a generation or two but to what she would consider to be the days of prehistory. That was a wild claim to make without any evidence to back him up. Magic. Shamans and witches. Fairytales and not very pleasant fairytales either. //Shamans and witch doctors, sorcerers and witches. Magic. Superstitions from the past and I still pray that this is all a very bad dream.// Slender shoulders slumped and she fiddled with the brush for a moment. Would she ever grow up? It seemed that she had been praying for her life to be proven to be a very bad dream for a long time now. Ever since her father had been assassinated by Lady Une. From that time to this it had all been wrong, day after day it seemed that she longed for the innocence she had enjoyed when her father had been there to protect her from the real world. Bad dreams she could live with if only she would wake up and find herself to be Relena Darlian, the darling of St Gabriel’s and the spoiled little rich girl she had been reared to be. If He would walk out of the dream and apologize to her just once more for not being there for a birthday or for a school play because he had to fly to the colonies to help keep the peace … it would all be so wonderful. It was never going to happen and she was not a fool. She knew wishing for the past was a mistake but she would still find herself entertaining such thoughts at the most inappropriate of times. He was not even her real father but he was the only father she had known and she had loved him. You never appreciated what you had until you lost your greatest treasures. That lesson she had learned when her foster father had died and since the nightmare of assassination had become her reality there was another hurt deep within that festered unhealed. She needed to grow up and acknowledge it. Family was everything when you no longer had its comfort. Milliardo Peacecraft. Her family had not told her he had existed. Her father had not mentioned him in all of the years she had been his daughter and not even at his death had he told her that she was not, in truth, the heir to the Peacecraft legacy. Had he known that Milliardo had been alive? Of course he had. Pagan had told her that he had known. It was Lucrezia Noin who had told her of her brother. Lucrezia had informed her that the renowned Oz pilot, Zechs Merquise, was actually her brother and she had learned it while she had watched her brother and her love interest battle it out in the Antarctic chill. They had been trying to kill each other and she had been screaming at Heero to ‘Kill that man’. She blushed. It was still uncomfortable to remember that time. Pacifist Princess? Hardly. So few people knew her and she hardly knew herself in those days. She had been hurting and infatuated with Heero and she had not liked herself much. All of the unkind things she had thought about her father, then his death and the world had seemed to be one terrifying place that she simply could not deal with. How had she ended up as Queen of the World? //I hate that title. Queen of the World. Tool. Spoiled little rich girl who wanted everything that she could not have. Being Queen could cure nothing of the personal hurt but I think I was somewhat insane then. If I fixed the troubles of the world I would fix my own problems. They say that Milliardo was insane but no one mentions some of the things I did. Next to me he was positively sedentary.// For as long as she could remember she had wanted a brother though why she could not say even to herself. Perhaps it was some left over link from her infancy when she indeed had had a brother. Perhaps the infant had known and missed that bond with the brother she had lost the day the world had ended for Relena Peacecraft and begun for Relena Darlian. From the time that Lucrezia had told her who Zechs Merquise was she had entertained fantastical dreams that were more unreal than the notion that psychic ability might run in their family. Her blush deepened as her fingers gripped the brush with painful intensity. She had even treated him like an infant brother, as though she in all of her barely fifteen years of wisdom was the big sister and knew what was best for her little brother who knew no better than to play in mud and make pies no one would eat. She felt her face flame with embarrassment though there was no one present to see it. Day dreams were no better than night dreams of fantasy and wish thinking. Her dreams of having a brother her parents never produced had become the reality of her being a lost Princess and heir to a kingdom newly liberated from oppressive occupation. Then, shockingly, the reality that she was not an only child. Yes, she had a brother but not an infant brother whom she could coddle and annoy and mother but a man full grown who had had a very different view on reality to her own. In her teenage naiveté and in her distress over the changes in her personal life that she could not control she had determined that she had the master solution to the troubles of the world. She was Relena Darlian who had become Relena Peacecraft the Pacifist ruler of Earth and how dare he, her own brother, not follow her version of reality. He unlike everyone else she had spoken to of her outlook, her grand design for the shaping of a new world order, had not believed her. Despite her best efforts, despite her passion and her fire, despite her vision of how the world should be … She had been unable to turn him to her way of thinking … "Oh, God." She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks, barely aware that somewhere within her something had connected and snapped into place and now made a horrible kind of sense. "Oh God, no. I … I honestly expected him to step down from White Fang and follow me like a puppy. A trusting, docile puppy. I … I expected everyone … everyone I spoke to to see the sense of my proposals and follow me, acknowledging that I was right. Infallible." The old man who might have stepped out of a fairytale himself had suggested that she had the ability to make people see things her way. //Noooo. No, no, no. It … can’t be.// It was not just that time on Libra. She had expected not just Milliardo to believe and follow her way without question. Thinking of it she could remember far too many conversations with politicians and world leaders, with diplomats and media, with officials from all walks of life. So many people, not all of them openly hostile to the idea of peace but many of them had been wary and cautious and there had been a few openly hostile to her ideas and ideals. It was not all of them who had entertained changes of heart that in some cases had been considered rather remarkable and she had been congratulated on her skills as a negotiator. After lengthy discussions many of these people charged with extracting the best deals for their people and who had initially displayed reluctance and doubt had turned around and acted in her behalf. He had said that her birth father had had such an ability. Had her glib words won her the victories on those days or had it been something else? Had she done that? She had thought herself to be a wonderful politician, a skilled negotiator and so certain of her standing and ideals and suddenly … Suddenly she was confronted with a frightening possibility. Taking a deep breath Relena stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort into order some of the confusion. How could she know? How could she hope to understand what was surely superstitious drivel and had no basis in fact? She had to face reality if she was to work for the peace and she had to understand her own abilities and what might be a natural skill at negotiation or what might be a very unnatural flair for making people follow her around like a puppy. "Is it all a lie? I don’t know what is real anymore." One thing she did know without a doubt was that she owed her brother an apology. She had been a positive bitch to him on more than one occasion and she had made a total mess of what had been his one chance at something that might approach a normal life. If there was one thing that Relena did pride herself on it was in having the courage to apologize when she needed to. Despite the fact that her brother was not present she needed to give voice to an apology and later when next they met face to face, she would apologize to him in person. “Milliardo, I’m sorry. I never let you be my brother, did I? You were not what I wanted you to be and you would not change just to make me happy. I was a spoiled little rich girl used to getting her own way and even now I’m expecting the world to follow blindly along in my wake. If I can just get these old bastards off of my back." //Ohh, I’m not allowed to swear, someone might hear … Damn it. I don’t care if Sally hears me swear. Why should everyone else be allowed to… // Relena rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "I don’t believe this. I’m afraid Sally will hear me swear and look at me disapprovingly and around me the world is shifting again toward disaster. What happened to the peace we fought for, Brother? I’ve started to grow up, Milliardo. I understand now that we fought for the same thing, in our own different ways. We really did want the same thing. Peace. I’m sorry I never gave you the chance to explain to me … No, you tried to tell me in the hologram chamber but I was too full of myself and my ideals that my way was the only way, the right way, to see what you were doing." She had been hoping, wishing for years that she would have a brother and her wishes had come true, just not in the manner she had expected it to happen. When she had discovered that she did indeed have a brother she had been a royal bitch to him, refusing to discuss what he intended, merely concerned with dictating to him what she demanded he do. He had refused her dictates but he had not once rebuffed her or told her she was a young and idealistic fool who had no true concept of the harsh realities of life. No, Milliardo had not rejected her but to her shame she had rejected him. Even after he had returned from what ever safe anonymity he had found after the war to stand up to Dekim Barton she had not accepted him for who he was. Why had it been so hard for her then to acknowledge that he had had a very different up bringing and that it was no surprise that he had different views to those brought about by her spoiled and privileged childhood? Why had it been so easy for her to accept Heero and the other Gundam Pilots but she could not find it within her to accept that the one person who could challenge their superiority in their wondrous Gundams was the one person who should never have touched a weapon in his life? Her brother. The Peacecraft heir. He was the Prince of a pacifist nation and as such he should never have take a weapon into his hands let alone actually fight and kill. Not once had he killed but many times and pacifists did not do that. Pacifists did not fight and therefore this impostor could not, in truth, be a Peacecraft. //Who said pacifists could not do such things?// Blue eyes closed slowly and she sighed softly. "I did." She pressed a hand to her eyes, not wishing to see the room around her. //Why did I decide that Pacifists should not bare arms or fight? No one should kill but in war, that happens.// Her hand fell to the bed but she refused to open her eyes. "Because I was taught that Pacifists stand there and talk their way out of trouble even as the knife blade drives into their heart. I … I have learned a great deal in the last few years. I have learned that nothing is as it seems. Nothing." Eyes still closed she bent her head forward until her chin rested on her chest. //I never even thought to scratch the surface to look deeper and see if there was another way other than the way I had been taught. Because of that I made mistakes. Because of that my father made mistakes. Both of them. I can’t afford to make mistakes anymore. I have to start by acknowledging that there is more than one kind of pacifist in the world. I see it all of the time around me. The pacifists who stand there and expect the world to revolve around their way of thinking and doing things. Then you have the doers and shakers, those who actively fight, be it with word or weapon to bring about peace and then to maintain it. Fighting with words and with weapons.// "If I want my life to mean anything I have to stop being so shallow." They came from the same family but they had two different outlooks on what it took to bring about and maintain peace. Would she ever be able to tell her brother that she was sorry for all the hateful things she had said to him? Would she ever be able to tell him that she was older now and wiser and that she knew she had a long way to go before true wisdom could be attained? //Damn, listen to me! Idiot. He’s not so much older than I am so what the hell makes me think that he knows better than I do just because he’s a little bit older than I am?// Relena rubbed at her face, hunching in on herself, feeling the pounding of her head as hard physical blows. // I’m going around and around in circles and getting nowhere fast. I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight and I am so tired.// She heard the shower cut off and knew that her breathing space was coming to an end. She needed to make an effort to gather her thoughts and present something more like her usual assured self to Sally. They had agreed to talk after they were both comfortable and the Preventer doctor was going to come through that door any minute and expect to listen to sensible ideas. She would win no brownie points with Sally if she degenerated into the garbled hysterics of a toddler who might as well still be wearing training pants. She was very much afraid though that at some point in that conversation Sally would mention her brother and she was fairly certain that at that point she would crumple into a pile of useless mush. What had to be said about Milliardo and her thoughts on him was surely between herself and her brother, no other. She doubted that Sally would see it that way. But what if the old man was right? What if her brother … //I’ll probably never get the opportunity to tell you in person that I really do understand what you were trying to do and that I think that you did succeed. I am very sorry for not trying to understand you and why it was that you did what you did. I have had my eyes opened to the realities of politics and to how they play the game and I think I can see now. I know that you did the best that you could with what you had to work with. No one would listen to you, would they? No one wanted to admit that you were HIS son. That the old Sanc survived in you. Your likeness to Him… There must be so much guilt out there, so much hurt about the past and none of us are good at letting the past go. I don’t have to agree with what you did but I do have to accept that you did it without flinching. Such courage that must have taken. I’ve learned enough of you from other people who knew you to suspect that you knew better than anyone the cost of what you planned.// She could hear again the old man’s voice speaking of the past and those superstitious beliefs of magic and how could he call some of her ancestors Saints? She was not totally innocent of the history of Sanc. She knew enough to know how many of her ancestors had caused bloodbaths, assassinations and tilted the power structure of the surrounding countries to better suit their own needs. Just like the other countries had influenced those who lived around them. Survival in terrible times called for terrible sacrifices and the Peacecrafts had never shirked their responsibility to their people. //I don’t … If I … // She drew a steadying breath. //He talked about magical gifts and in the next breath he spoke of psychic abilities and in the same breath he claimed to have documented evidence that my brother had one of the abilities that run in the family. If he was right … Milliardo, if he was right and all of this is not so much bullshit …// she gasped at her unthinking use of the small crudity which had been forbidden to her since infancy and blushed. //Could it really be possible for you or anyone to see the future? Were you able to see the future and … Why? Why would you threaten to do such terrible things? What could it possibly be that would be so terrible as to drive you to the Libra and threaten the Earth that you loved? Oh, it’s rot. Utter rot. It has to be. // She sighed and shook her head, finding the brush back in her hands and absently began pulling long blonde hair out of the bristles. She hated her life and the incomparable mess it had become. Her entire life was filled to bursting with lies. They said that the truth hurt and that was such an understatement. She was not in truth a Darlian though to this day she called herself one. Relena Darlian was in truth Relena Peacecraft and her biological parents had stood for peace. They had given everything, including their lives to try to teach the principles of peace and her other father had been just as much a believer in their ideals. In light of that simple truth she needed to understand why it was she used the name Darlian and not Peacecraft. She did not deserve to be acknowledged the Princess of Sanc. Repeatedly she had refused the crown of Sanc and not because her brother, the rightful heir to the throne was still alive. No, it was not because of Milliardo that she begged off the weight of that crown. It was time to be honest with herself and that meant acknowledging that it was the thought of being a Queen itself that set her backing away from the requests. The fiasco with Romefeller had terrified her but it was not that alone. What had she done to deserve the elevated status that was Royalty? She had not been reared as a Princess but a very spoiled commoner and what was it that made people offer her a crown she did not want? Even considered to be obsolete in this day and age. In her sojourn as Queen of the World … God in Heaven, what a farce that had been. Even her grandfather had played her for his own ends. Naive teenager that she was she had gone along with it, convinced of her own importance and her ability to change the world as it must be changed. Her high ideals had counted for nothing. She had been a tool, a means to an end and nothing in the intervening years had changed. That was exactly how she was now viewed by those who had succeeded in pulling her strings yet again. Her guilt over her treatment of Milliardo had given them the perfect opportunity to control her. She danced at the end of their strings now as she had for those in Romefeller years ago. She was such a fool. As Queen of the World she had gone so far as to inform the world’s population that they were imbeciles to squabble over the right to call a piece of dirt their own. That piece of dirt might have been home to them for a thousand generations but it was just a piece of dirt to her. She had disbanded national borders as casually as she would flick her hand at a bothersome fly and she squirmed in shame at taking it for granted that the peoples of the world should and would obey her without question. How had she dared to think that she had the power to so much as scratch her nose in public let alone dictate to the people that she knew best and they must obey her laws. She was fifteen years old and full of her own importance … //I was a useful tool for those who let me have enough reign to give them what they wanted. Now they have put a check strap on me and expect me not to buck their control. Will I allow it? Do I have any choice?// She had made a mistake. The dissolution of national borders had worked in her favour then, to establish a peace but now it was leading them all toward disaster. She had finally opened her eyes and looked around her at the people of Sanc and she could see that these people … her people … had very real ties binding them to this land. Despite the occupation of two armies over the years both of whom had seemed to be intent on destroying as much of the land as possible the people had not forgotten their bonding links to the earth of their home. They had returned after each invasion to scratch out a living and wait for the good times to return. That was what she had observed as she sat in her palace and dictated to the world how to attain and then keep peace. They had returned and lived and waited for a change. How had she dared tell the people of Sanc or those other peoples around the world who for so long had fought to retain the land that called to them, that claimed them, that they could no longer call it theirs? //But we all have to live on this world and we have to share the meagre resources that we have. Cooperation is far better than killing to attain what you need. I was right … but I was wrong too. I was wrong in how I went about it, but at the time there was no other way.// Was that how her brother had felt when he had made his fateful decision to join the White Fang? The world around her had seemed to be out of control. Much as it seemed to be cycling around to disaster now. Someone had needed to take action to stop the war that verged on escalating out of all proportion. One minute it had seemed that not enough people were trying to stop disaster and the next minute it seemed that there were too many people taking action. // Perhaps that was the problem?// Perhaps there had been too many people attempting to bring about peace and in the end they had succeeded only in fouling each other. Yes, that was only too easy to suggest but was it all of the problem? //No, but a large part of it. Look at me. The Queen of the World sitting on her bed pulling hairs out of a brush and whimpering like a baby at the idea of being turned into a dictator by those pulling my strings. I am no better nor worse than Romefeller was in thinking that I know best for everyone. No better or worse than those who now tell me to sit and I sit like an obedient dog. Ahh, they were right to look for some means to control me. It’s no wonder the people in power looked at me and decided that they had to do something. Someone had to put a check strap on me. I am a spoiled wilful brat who wants her own way and who throws tantrums if she can’t get it. I have a very nasty habit of making people listen to me and getting them to think they want the same things … Oh God. Oh God, no. No, I can’t … I can’t do that.// He had said that King Stephen could turn the doubtful attitudes of his enemies into that of freely believing advocates for peace. That terrible, terrible old man who looked so innocent had said he suspected that she had inherited the talent. A talent that in essence could convince others that their way was wrong and that her way was right. Terrible, terrible, horrible dream. //Freak. Freak. I said it. I admitted it. He said I was a freak. I’m not. I’m not.// So much potential to abuse the fundamental freedoms of the people. The inalienable right to entertain their own thoughts, to determine their own minds … to think for themselves. She rocked slowly on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them with her eyes closed and tears tracking over her cheeks. Silent sobs wracked her slender frame as in a very unwelcome parade of memories she relived those instances where she had known that the representatives of L3 would walk out of the peace talks and that the trade delegation from L4 had been about to spit in disgust at the rag tag representatives from L2’s poorer sections who had sought not a handout but a loan to make much needed changes. She had been so proud of herself and of her glib tongue and the ability to find just the right arguments to turn their attention and hold them and finally to convince them to do the right thing. //I’m not a freak. I’m not a freak.// She was a spoiled wilful child who had always had an uncanny knack for getting her own way, nothing more. She desperately needed to believe that there was nothing otherworldly about knowing the right words to say to effect a resolution from dissent. She did not have some strange and freakish ability to control people. If she had such fantastic super abilities then why was she caught under the manipulative thumbs of politicians who professed to know everything for the greater good? Just as once she had thought she had known the right way to go and damn the cost to the little man. It was for his own good. //Listen to me! I trade words with the best and worst of them and work on words until they sound like the right thing for everyone even if I know that it’s not true. Why am I so proud of that? Why am I sitting here howling my eyes out when it’s all wrong? Nothing makes sense anymore.// Slender and surprisingly strong arms slipped around her shoulders and she turned into Sally’s embrace, giving up on everything other than that wonderfully warm human contact. It was exactly what she needed now, just to be held and allowed to cry. Her fingers gripped Sally’s pyjama top with desperate intensity and she let herself go, giving in to the hysterical weeping that was an accumulation of emotion and stress she had too long carried around with her. She would deal with the rest of it later but for now she just wanted to let it go.
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