Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Kishikata no Eos ❯ Aftermath ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Kishikata no Eos

Chapter Four -- Aftermath

"Where are we going?" Her sense of direction only mediocre, she knew enough to realize that the place the Royal Family was staying was on the other side of the Arronné estate.

"A shop I know of," he replied, clasping her hand tightly but refusing to look at her. "Here. You wait here." Without giving any time for a reply, he vanished silently inside.

"A shop? Breandon, it's not -" Too late. Dawn glanced about nervously, folding her arms across her bared torso. Suddenly, standing out in the damp evening air, she felt most un-Senshi like.

It felt like forever, but it could only have been a few minutes when Breandon returned, bearing a white bundle that turned out to be a dress. A dress that reminded Dawn oddly of the few minutes of /Gone with the Wind/ she'd seen, sometime ages ago. He handed it to her solemnly, then produced a wide-brimmed hat from behind his back. "I couldn't resist this."

She eyed the dress, the hat, and then Breandon. "You bought me a dress?"

Patiently, he explained, "You're cold in your fuku, and you said the other dress had phaser burns in revealing places. Just put it on and stop arguing."

"And where am I supposed to change into this? I can't exactly henshin into real clothes that I'm holding," she pointed out.

"Uhhh ... " He made an exasperated face, grabbed her arm, and hauled her down the street a bit farther to a convenient bathhouse.

"Here?" She frowned, but obligingly slipped inside. She found an empty corner and, in what she hoped was a subtle fashion, returned to the burgundy dress. Peeling the burnt fabric off, she exchanged deep red for white, extravagance for elegant simplicity. Stepping out, she checked her reflection in the mirror. Dawn took the pins out of her hair, letting it fall loosely about her shoulders before setting the hat on her head. Unsure, she shyly stepped out and tucked both hands behind her back.

"Does this look all right to you?"

Unbidden, the first unreserved smile she'd ever seen came to his face. "You look good enough to take back to the party." He offered her his arm again. "Where shall I escort you now, fair lady of my heart?"

"Back to the party, I suppose," she replied uncertainly, resting her hand on his arm. "Unless that would be a gross faux pas." She self-consciously ran her fingers through her loose curls, still looking at the dress. "I'm going to owe you dinner at the very least for this... for almost a week."

Breandon placed his free hand over hers, looking up. "You don't owe me a thing." /Except the pleasure of your company in this mood./ "If you don't want to go back there, we don't have to. May I escort you somewhere quieter?"

Dawn's subconscious did her speaking for her as she kept her head down. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to go back, or not. I'm already in enough trouble, and staying away might be more appropriate, but it could also be interpreted as running away, and I've already managed to mess up enough on this trip, and..." She stopped, suddenly aware she was babbling. "Sorry," she apologized softly. "I just don't know... what do you think I should do?"

He blinked. "You're asking me what the protocol for a Senshi Guardian is."

"Am I?" She sighed, chewing her lip. "If we're going on purely Guardian protocol, then I shouldn't have even left the party. Damn it to hell," she swore.

"It is a little late to remedy that," he reminded her. "I think it would be best if you left them all wondering. After this, the Pavori will know even less about how to deal with you, which may give our Queen some leverage with them -- after all, you represent a good portion of the army which we can level against them." He began to walk. "Come, we'll look suspicious if we just stand here."

She obliged, one hand delicately holding her skirt so she wouldn't trip. "True," she agreed. She cast a sideways glance at her escort, whose dramatic costume of royal purple and black bore a stark contrast to her demure figure in white. A thought occurred to her... "How did you know what size to get? For the dress, I mean."

"I flatter myself my judgement of a person's figure is superb."

"Oh." They walked on in silence for a few more minutes, until the nagging voice in her mind sang with a more pressing query. "Another thing... and you don't have to answer it or anything," she said, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. "What prompted that kiss in Greynn's a couple nights ago?" /So much for subtlety./

Did she imagine it, or was there a check in his step on that question? "I told you. You required taming."

"I thought that was your reason for kicking the pool cue out from under me," she answered, careful to keep her eyes straight ahead.

"It was all of a piece in my diabolical master plan," he essayed, trying to keep a light tone.

"Master plan? For what?"

"Uh ... " For the first time, he seemed at a real loss for words.

She stopped, a frown on her lips as she turned to face him. "Yes?"

"... for capturing y-- the Princess' heart, of course!" He said hastily.

Dawn blinked as her stomach suddenly felt slightly queasy. "Oh." She pulled her hand away from his arm and simply stood there, unsure of what to say.

He sighed. "You don't take a joke very well, Dawn."

"Sorry, but you sure didn't seem like you were joking then," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest. Her throat tightened, and Dawn slowly turned away from him, the last bit of control she could muster that evening keeping her from swearing... or running... or bursting into a confused mass of frustration and tears. "And no, I don't take jokes well. Character flaw of a sort."

Breandon grabbed her shoulder. "Well, I'm sorry then. Now, where are you going? You'll get lost if you run off." There was an ache in his throat he could hardly get the words around. If she ran from him now ...

She shook slightly as she felt the pressure of his grip on her shoulder. "I don't know," she whispered.

"Look, let's get off the street if we're going to fight. I'm not actually all that keen on having an audience to witness my spectacular temper. Come on," he coaxed.

/But I don't want to fight... I just want to... I don't know what I want.../ Silently, she turned and followed, brows furrowed in thought.



He led her back to the suite the Arronnés had kindly provided him, thankful that it had a door to the outside and he wouldn't have to take her past any inquiring guests. Even here, his reputation extended, and he oddly didn't want Dawn to be touched by that ... especially not after Pluto's warnings.

"What's this?"

"My humble abode while I am here. Safe and secure from prying eyes and Pavori gossips. Now, you may yell at me all you like." /Gods know I deserve it .../ He took a seat on the overstuffed sofa, grimaced as he removed his hair from underneath, and settled back, looking suave and demure.

Dawn's face registered confusion combined with a modest amount of surprise. "I didn't want to yell at you," she managed, slipping the hat from atop her head and tapping her fingers against the brim. "I just wanted to know why you did what you did then... and then tonight... and..." She paused, looking up at Breandon. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're waiting for me to say this one specific thing, because I have no idea what to do or say right now," she finished, flinging one arm outwards to emphasize her words. "You're cryptically nasty at the bar, then you're a perfect gentleman for most of this evening, you buy me a dress that I'm pretty sure costs far more than I should be wearing, and now..." Dawn exhaled such that the curls about the side of her face swayed slightly. "Now, I'm very confused, and I don't play games well, and I'd really appreciate things spelled out for once."

"You seemed to put Miss Syrrene in her place quite well," he observed.

Dawn grinned in spite of herself. "That was relatively easy, compared to this."

"I'm flattered." He patted the couch next to him. "If you aren't going to yell at me, come sit down. I don't bite."

She obliged, leaving shoes and hat at the door before sitting on the other side, tucking her feet up under her. "Are you going to explain the past few days, or do you plan to keep me guessing?"

"I could say the same to you, Dawn," he returned. "I don't actually know very much about you at all. However, as you asked first, I shall endeavour to clarify. What was it you wanted to know?"

She could feel the heat rising in her face again, and she cursed her fair skin... and cowardice. "Why a white dress?"

"It was the first thing that came to hand that suited you."

"Oh." Unable to ask the real question on her mind, she turned to a different tactic. "All right, your turn."

"Why are you here?"

"Here, for this trip? To protect Rini, and act as some sort of status symbol for Serenity," she replied with a shrug.

He shook his head. "No, here, this ... place ... this ... this time."

Dawn's eyes went wide as she jumped up from her seat, doubling the distance between her and Breandon. /Oh shit, Pluto is going to KILL me./

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he sighed.

"I could say the same thing," she managed breathlessly.

"You said I could ask!" he snapped. "Now sit down. I don't think anyone else realises, and anyway I was more or less told."

Settling herself back on the couch, she didn't think she could press herself any further into the cushions. "Who, Rini?"

"No. You're avoiding the question."

She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. "To take Eos' place. She's in the hospital back in New Crystal Tokyo under observation after an attack on Rini last week that sent her into pre-term labour. I got called in right as I was starting my third year of university."

He nodded. "Ah. Thank you. Your turn."

"Why'dyoukissmethatnight?" It was rushed and spoken to her skirt rather than to him.

"Didn't I already answer this?"

She lifted her head, forcing herself to look him in the eye. "Not such that I'd believe you." He looked back at her, and forgot what he was going to say. "Well?" she said.

"Ah," he stumbled, "... I honestly don't know ... let me do it again and I might be able to tell you ... " His expression was soft, longing.

Curiosity combined with sheer naïveté was probably what caused Dawn to raise herself up on her knees and lean across the couch, her gaze fixed on Breandon's face as she kept her balance with one hand on the opposite armrest. Eyes half-closed, she gently brushed her lips against his in a deceptively innocent manner.

Before he could get his arms up around her, she had pulled back. His expression resembled that of a thirsty man just out of reach of water. "Dawn ... "

"So, why did you?" she queried softly.

The expression turned mischievous. "I need to do more research." A wicked glint in the green eyes just barely presaged his pulling her into his arms and lowering his face over hers. "Stop me if you object," he murmured, before kissing her again, with slightly less ferocity and considerable gentleness.

Dawn's body relaxed considerably as she indulged a second kiss that was considerably more involved than the first. Pulling back, she opened her eyes and smiled shyly. "You didn't answer my question," she pointed out.

"Did I not just say I needed to do more research? Impudent imp."

/Imp?/ "So give me a hypothesis," she replied smoothly.

With a sigh smacking of exasperation, he let go of her and flung himself back against the pillows of the couch. "I don't have one, okay? It seemed the thing to do, so I did it. I am not accustomed to engage in lengthy dissections of my motives."

Dawn tilted her head to the left, regarding him through her eyelashes. "A whim, then?"

"I did not say that!"

"But it's an accurate description." she countered. "You either planned it, or you went on instinct. You deny the former, so I assumed the latter."

He frowned. "That's semantics. It was no whim, I assure you, although I seized the moment."

"I can't disagree with you on that count." She bit her bottom lip, still fixated on him. /So, now what?/

The silence became long. Then it became awkward. Then it became downright oppressive. Breandon cleared his throat, and startled himself. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure." She leaned back, then stood, nervous energy manifesting itself in the slow pacing she did in the living area.

Breandon watched her for a moment before moving into the kitchenette. Clinks and slight splashes broke the silence before he emerged bearing a tray with two glasses.

Dawn stood next to the window, fingers twisting her hair as she glanced down at another empty page of his sketchbook. "No inspiration yet, hmm?"

"Inspiration is often forthcoming, but lately ... never mind." He handed her a cool glass and returned to the couch, indulging himself in a rare moment to watch her.

She sniffed the contents delicately, and sipped. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she turned her head and caught him gazing at her. "Yes?"

Breandon turned a dull red. "Nothing."

Again, she didn't believe him... but rather than point it out verbally, she simply decided to return to what she'd been doing. If he wanted to look, there was no harm in looking. Breandon watched her flip through the sketchbook, but his mind was busy elsewhere.

"Is this a new one?" She stopped on a flowing gown that had swatches of lavender next to it, its model sporting dark auburn hair.

"Which?" He asked idly, then shot up out of the couch's embrace as he realised what one she was looking at. "Ack!" Then he realised how completely he'd given himself away, and stood looking sheepish. "I mean, yes. It's new."

"It's beautiful." She closed the book and set it down on the table. "I take it this happened post-Scotch?"

"Significantly."

Something in the tone of his voice made her nervous. Taking another sip from her glass, she shifted her attention to the window and the night sky.

He sighed and came up behind her. "What are you thinking, Dawn?"

She kept her back to him, talking to the panes of glass. Somehow, it made speaking the truth easier. "I'm thinking that I'm going to be in trouble when I get back, although I'm not sure if I care. I'm thinking that there's more to you than what I've been told in my short time here. And, I'm thinking that kissing you before was done completely on a whim, just to see how you'd react."

He nodded. "And how do you think I reacted?"

"You certainly didn't object to it."

He reached out to touch her, but pulled back. "I am sorry. Pluto warned me, and I guess I should have listened. I just ... "

"Warned you about what?" She turned around quickly at the mention of Pluto. "Was she the one who told you about me?

"She said I was to stay away from you."

"Her too?"

"Her too what?" Breandon was considerably startled.

Dawn took another sip from her glass. "I was pretty much told point-blank this evening that you were trouble, and that I shouldn't play games with you," she replied. "Captain London felt the need to play big brother, I suppose."

Breandon laughed. "He's still resentful that Gwyneth liked me more, that's all."

"Oh." Dawn managed a half-smile. "Then what did Pu... sorry, Sailor Pluto, what did she tell you about me? That I was headstrong, lacked manners, and could swear like a barkeep?"

"She didn't tell me anything. Well, she said you were stubborn and independent, but I could see that for myself."

"You said she warned you," Dawn pointed out. "Warned you about what?"

He leaned his forehead on the windowpane. "Not warned me ABOUT you. She said I wasn't to play with you. She said I was to stay away from you." His voice broke somewhere in the middle of that.

"Play with me?" Even though she repeated the words, Dawn's focus turned to Pluto, and something not unlike resentment began to nibble on her thoughts.

"I have ... something of a reputation, as a lover. I've been told I'm considered quite a conquest, which may explain Lady Syrrene's behaviour. But not everyone looks on this in a favourable light. Thus, not to play with you."

"Oh. I see." Suddenly, Dawn wondered if that kiss she'd had so much fun with earlier had been in her best interest... not to mention being here, in his private quarters while she was supposed to be here accompanying Rini and her parents. "And that's why Pluto told you to stay away from me? Because she didn't want me to be tempted by your wily ways?"

"I suppose so ... " He turned back and flung himself on the couch. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure." She took the seat opposite him amidst the cushions. "Your turn for a question, if you're game.

"I ... " Truly told, he'd nearly forgotten about the game of questions they'd been playing. But, if she could ask hard questions, then so could he. "Why don't you like me?"

"I never said that I didn't," she objected. "I didn't have any problem with you the first time we met, once things were cleared up. It was the second night that made me question my judgement."

"Refresh my memory."

She moved her hands as she spoke, gesturing with the glass. "Specifically, you stared at me, then acted like you didn't, then kicked my cue out from under me such that I crashed to the floor, and then you forced yourself on me like it was some kind of punishment."

"Ah ... I was counting the /Euripides/ reception before that. But you are indeed correct ... I have no excuse. You were ... behaving somewhat differently that night, as well."

"Vince let me get into the rum," she admitted sheepishly. "Not the greatest of combinations."

Breandon sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "I suppose we didn't get off to the best start. Although," he opened one eye to look at her, "I do recall mentioning that if you left your charge behind things could get interesting."

"That you did... and they have," she observed.

He closed the eye again. "Does it bother you?"

"No." She moved towards the middle of the couch, dress spilling over the end and hiding her feet. "I'm certainly not bothered by it."

Reaching out a long fingered hand, he took the glass from her and attempted to gather her close to him. "That's good. That's very, very good." He began to trace the shape of her fingers with a gentle fingertip.

Caution following instinct, she leaned back against his chest and watched his methodical study of her hands. Despite the slow gentle movement, she found it difficult to completely relax, with Pluto's warning running through her head.

"You do something that regularly brings your fingers in contact with something rough, don't you?" he commented. "Dawn, may I be completely frank with you?" His fingers were gentle on her hands and arms.

"I'm not as handy with a soldering iron as I could be in lab classes," she ruefully admitted, turning one hand palm up to see the remnants of a few burn marks from last semester. "And yes, I'd rather that you be that way."

"Dawn, you do things to me," he said, very quietly, folding her hands in his own. "It's possible you will never believe me, and I should blame only myself if you don't, but I never expected to meet someone like you." There was silence for a moment. "I ... the reason I was so very rude to you in Greynn's is because I had ... called someone else by your name, in a rather awkward situation. You can imagine, I think, that I was rather confused by this ... "

/And so am I,/ she thought frantically. "I suppose so. Go on."

She could feel his chest rise as he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I took it out on you. You ... trouble me, trouble my thoughts. Perhaps this is normal, for one in my situation ... but you are in my dreams." He swallowed. "I assure you, my dear, that they are not such dreams as I would be shamed to detail in company, either."

No verbal response would have been appropriate at that point, so she simply nodded, the words overwhelming her as he continued to speak.

"I am ... unaccustomed to thinking about what I do; I merely do it. But around you, although I find no need to temper my tongue, I am ... holding back. I want to please you. Yet somehow I seem always to be doing what would annoy you."

"You're not annoying me," she replied automatically. "And as for holding back..." Dawn sat up and twisted about, her face inches from his. "Why?"

"Why would I hold back?"

She nodded.

"As I said, I was warned. Also," he said, holding her gaze, "there is something about you that is intriguing, and I find myself extremely curious. I want to ... " He struggled for words. "I want -- this is precisely symptomatic of the problem! Dammit, Dawn, your presence ties my tongue up!"

She thought about saying something about her leaving so that he could think, but this was neither the time nor place for playful sarcasm. Everything felt so serious, and she couldn't match Breandon's eloquence, despite his claim that he lacked the proper words. Bringing a hand up, she tentatively brushed the side of his face with her fingertips.

The breath slid out of him in a long sigh that ruffled the curls around her face. He leaned his head slightly to the side, pressing into her fingers.

Her body began to tremble as she brought the other hand up to smooth the hair that had strayed from the ponytail. There was a childlike innocence to her movements, as she stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand.

In a rush, his hands came up to clasp around her wrists. "Why are you shaking?"

"Because I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do," she whispered.

"Don't do what bothers you." He smiled weakly. "I've been turned down before."

"I meant... am I doing the right thing..." The words tumbled out in the same uncertain whisper.

"Anything you want to do is right," he soothed. His hands loosened on her wrists, and began to slip down her arms with a light touch. "Trust that I will tell you if you do something I dislike, and I shall trust the same. Nothing happens without trust."

She nodded once, returning a hand to gently stroke his cheek. A dreamy smile crept over her lips, confidence slowly building as she relaxed into him.

Breandon fitted a hand behind her neck and pulled her closer, closer, until their noses touched. For a long moment green eyes met brown, until Dawn thought her heart would hammer itself out of her chest. He kissed her precisely at the same moment as he rested a warm palm against her bare shoulder.

Gooseflesh broke out over her skin at the dual sensation, and she stiffened slightly in surprise. But the warmth... the security, the warmth, the divine electricity that made every inch of her tingle, all combined to bring forth a soft sigh of pleasure and sheer contentment.

Breandon chuckled low in his throat. Breaking the kiss, he said, "I can't believe no one has ever told you before how beautiful you are."

Dawn had no verbal response to that, her mind still reeling from the kiss. Instead, she shook her head slightly and peeked at him through her eyelashes.

"Now, don't do that," he scolded, "I might just toss away all my scruples and ravish you."

Dawn's eyes widened and she giggled softly in reply. "That's a different kind of threat, I gather?"

"Oh, I still think you need taming," he murmured wickedly, "and I'm just the one to do it. Just not tonight." He slipped a hand down her back, caressing lightly.

/There's more?/ Willing the little voice in her head to be quiet for a while longer, she decided to simply rely on instinct. At the moment, instinct meant that a second kiss was in order, so she leaned in and gently nibbled on his lower lip.

He wrapped the arm not occupied with her shoulder around her waist and pulled her more firmly into his lap, then began a whisper-light exploration of her face, arms, shoulders, and back, first with fingertips, then starting over with kisses.

Her hands caressed his neck, one hand finding the tie that held his hair back. With nimble fingers, she undid the knot and combed through the fine silky strands. His lips found a particularly sensitive spot along her collarbone, prompting her to arch her back and emit something not unlike a purr. "Bren ..."

"Yes?" he whispered, nibbling slightly.

Heart pounding, she tentatively let her fingers trail down his neck, nails raking against the fabric of his shirt. Skin on fire and thoughts racing incoherently, she pulled back to catch her breath.

"Breathe," he laughed. "I'm not going anywhere, neither are you, it is not a race. Breathe, Dawn."

"I'm trying," she admitted with a grin. "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be all that important right now." She inhaled, then exhaled slowly, willing her pulse to slow down just a bit.

He smiled. "I should hate to lose you now that I've only just found you ... even to so trivial a thing as lack of breath."

The same dreamy expression returned, her hand returning to his cheek and stroking it gently. "Then I suppose I should practice that breathing thing some more." A spark of mischief entered her smile, and she pulled him back down to her, her insistence surprising both of them.

Breandon willingly succumbed to her desire, nimble fingers reaching for the clasps on the dress even as he occupied her mouth. His mahogany hair spilled everywhere, into her face and his and falling in a graceful waterfall to the floor. The position became too awkward to hold and they tumbled to the floor, still entangled in each other's arms.

Startled, Dawn pulled back, holding hair away from her face as she glanced down at Breandon, who was covered by the skirt of her dress. Half of the eye hooks that held the bodice of the gown together had been undone, and one shoulder hung to her elbow. Her face immediately grew bright pink, and she looked to him for some kind of explanation.

Breandon arched an unconcerned eyebrow. "Is that to say 'stop'?"

"I... I'm not quite sure," she admitted truthfully. The knowledge that she'd had to discard the bra that went with the other dress only made her cheeks grow even redder. "That fall was a bit abrupt."

"My apologies," he said seriously. "You were ... something like insistent, and I lost my balance."

And she was now sitting on him... /way to go, Dawn/. Gathering her skirt with one hand and trying to keep herself from falling out of the top of her dress with the other hand, she unceremoniously flopped onto the floor. "Sorry," she mumbled quickly, completely unsure of what to do next.

He rolled over and sat up, reaching out to her. "Why? It wasn't your fault, and I saw no problem at all."

"You didn't see a problem in falling onto the floor?"

He laughed. "Not with you there, certainly."

"Oh." Unsure of what to do, she fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress that refused to stay on her shoulder. Seconds passed, and she looked up helplessly at him. "Now what?"

"Did you want to stop, or should we go on? There is a bed ... "

At the word /bed/, Dawn involuntarily gasped and swallowed. "I... um, that's..." Words failed, her arms hugging the fabric of her dress to her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, and exhaled slowly. "I..." /Damn it/. "I'm not... not sure if... if..."

Breandon wrapped both arms around his knees. "Peace, Dawn. It is anything you like." He looked at her, watching the blush spread up her face, and sighed inwardly. "Come here. At least let me help you do up your dress again."

Silently, she got to her feet, still keeping one arm pinned across her chest while the other swept her hair off of her neck.

Breandon began to pull the sides of the dress together. "Why are you so nervous, Dawn? You must know that I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know," she sighed. "It's nothing you've done, believe me."

He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "I /am/ sorry. Please let me make it up to you."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," she murmured.

"I wouldn't be so certain of that, my beauty," he returned, sliding a fingertip idly up and down her back.

She shivered before turning to face him. "Then what? What's there for you to be sorry for?"

His eyes closed, and lines made him look ages older as he said, "I don't know how to explain it to you."

/Can't you at least try?/ she wanted to say. "Oh," was all that came out. Frustration set in, with her vision blurred by unshed tears. She sought distraction in the last few unfastened hooks, bowing her head to hide her face behind her hair.

"Hey, hey, there, don't do that ... please don't cry ... oh, gods, please don't cry Dawn." Frantically he pushed the hair aside to get at her face, framing it in both hands. "Please?"

She shook her head, silent tears now flowing freely down her cheeks and over his fingers. Dawn forgot about the dress itself and merely stood weeping, not knowing why but unable to stop.

"Dawn, Dawn, please, don't ... talk to me, Dawn ... " Finally he gave up and simply drew her to sit next to him, pulling her head to his shoulder. "There, now ... " he whispered, stroking her hair. "Shush, it's okay. Everything will be okay. I'll make it so, for you." He carried on in the same vein for some minutes, feeling quite helpless in the face of her inexplicable tears. "I would do anything for you, love ... " he murmured into her hair.

Tears ebbed as the last of his whispers met her ears. That... those soothing words, they kindled a warmth inside her that was strikingly different from the adrenaline rush of before, or the embarrassment that had compounded her tears. Lifting her head, she managed to smile at him with tearstained cheeks.

"Do you feel better now? Will you please tell me what that was all about? Despite my reputation, I am not accustomed to beautiful young women crying at my attentions!"

"Yes to the first, and I'm not sure about the second." She sniffled a bit before going on. "Truthfully, I've never had to -" A sharp knock at the door interrupted the reply, and she stopped, startled.

"What the -- " Firmly he put her aside and strode to the door, hair hanging to his knees and making him look girlish from the back. On second thought, Dawn reconsidered, Breandon could never really look girlish.

He flung open the door.

"Ah, you're still awake." Syrrene stood in the doorway, her expression one of smug satisfaction. "Papa's just a bit unhappy with what you did to Ferrin after dinner."

"Then your father should teach his sons to have more respect for a culture with more history than their own." He deliberately blocked her view through the door.

She bristled. "You're OUR guest, and besides, he was speaking to that Guardian girl first, not you. You should have known better than to get involved."

"I'm here on my own cognizance," he shot back, "and as a Lunar citizen, it is both my right and my duty to defend my culture wherever it is abused, regardless of whom is being addressed."

Dawn slipped into the kitchen area, out of sight of the door. Of all of the possible people to show up...

"And she wasn't even your responsibility," she continued haughtily. "Why didn't you just leave that to Serenity?"

"Somehow, I didn't notice my Queen standing there. Should I then leave her beloved nation open to ridicule?"

Syrrene searched for a reply, and came up with nothing. Twisting a bit of hair between her fingers, she began to pout. "Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

He essayed a smile, but it was a bad fit. "Ah! You came all this way just for that? My deepest apologies, my lady, I already have a guest. However," he pursed his lips, applying his well-known 'undressing' glance to her body, "You may certainly join us if that is your desire ... "

Syrrene laughed, brushing past him. "Liar. I have it on the best authority that you don't have anyone else here this..."

"Evening, Syrrene," Dawn purred from her perch in the kitchen. "Care to join in the fun?" True to her earlier threat, she had altered her fuku to one of black leather, complete with thigh-high boots and a nasty-looking riding crop. "We wouldn't have to tell your daddy, either. Our little secret," she whispered.

Breandon came in behind, shutting the door, and caught sight of Dawn. He held a straight face for a few brief seconds before he began to laugh so hard he had to sit down on the floor.

If she was going to do this right, she had to go all the way... "Get up," she snapped, walking over to him purposefully. "I'm not about to tolerate that kind of insolence." She shot a ferocious grin at Syrrene, who began a cautious retreat for the door.

Breandon gasped out a few more chuckles, bending over and clutching his middle. "Please, Mistress, forgive me!"

"I said that kind of mockery wouldn't be tolerated," she growled to Breandon's doubled-over form. "We'll just have to start with five lashes, to warm up... and then, it can be her turn." She cut through the air with the crop to emphasize, the whistle of leather punctuated by Syrrene slamming the door behind her as she ran out.

Breandon pounded his fist on the floor, trying to breathe. His face was red from laughter. "Did you really *gasp* need to do that?"

"Would you have rather she stayed?" Dawn's brown eyes danced while she twirled the crop like a baton. "Truthfully, I worried that this was something she'd have enjoyed."

He sneered. "Not Daddy's little girl ... although I have to wonder how much Daddy knows about his little girl's plans."

"Plans?" She allowed black leather to return to white satin, lavender haze shrouding her figure. "What do you mean?

Breandon explained, "I hardly think it would enhance his reputation for his daughter to become a conquest of mine. And I keep no secrets."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Which?"

"Having conquests and keeping no secrets," she answered swiftly.

He commented mildly, "Both, she wants. Imp." He smothered a yawn. "Very well. I don't keep secrets because it would be altogether too easy for someone in my position to be toppled by an ill-timed revelation. As to conquests, I'm quite sure I, or someone else at least, have told you about my propensity for amorous adventures. Of which you are not numbered."

She frowned, doubt creeping into her thoughts. "I see." This was not a subject she wanted to discuss with him, not after the past events of the evening. "Well, since she's gone, I should probably go back to my quarters as well."

Breandon nodded, and silently escorted her to the door. "Do you wish me to walk back with you?"

"If you want to. I wouldn't want to spoil your reputation."

"Don't be that way."

"Be what way? You've said some lovely things this evening about how you feel about me, things you would do, and then you offhandedly mention this illustrious reputation of yours that, unless I'm much mistaken, would involve some very similar words and actions." A lump rose in Dawn's throat and something between doubt and shame washed over her.

"You don't listen very well, do you?" he remarked, unruffled by her apparent anger. He regarded her with a cool gaze. "Did you wish to fight about this now, or shall we postpone it until our next meeting?"

"Oh, let's fight about it now," she snapped, sarcasm oozing. "I'd hate to have to reschedule, as you might be busy some other evening with someone else."

He drawled, "Would you care to stand here and screech like a fishwife, or shall we sit down and be somewhat civilised about it?" Dawn got the distinct impression that he was laughing at her... and it only infuriated her more. "Screech? I'll leave that to your 'conquests,'" she retorted acidly. "I'm perfectly capable of a normal toned discussion. As for civilized behaviour, I promise nothing."

He hitched himself up on the counter, leaving long legs dangling. "Fine, I shall sit and you may stand and screech, or not, as you like. Did you have a particular topic, or is this merely your hurt pride speaking at the mention of other women in my life?"

Anger rose as her fists balled at her sides. "Other women? You've already called them conquests, why bother trying to make believe that any of those episodes was more than some kind of game you enjoy playing?"

"You do not believe I valued each of them?"

"No." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "At least, not for more than the handful of hours you shared their company."

"Ah." He nodded. "So you believe that I am ... what is the word? a dilettante, when it comes to women? That I prefer to simply sleep with a woman, rather than have a deeper attachment?"

"You seem to enjoy parading your reputation as such." Disgusted, she turned and started for one of the back rooms.

"Oh, come back here. You started this, now we shall finish it. Unless it is other things you have in mind, my beauty? You are beautiful in anger, you know." Breandon slid down to smile ingratiatingly at her.

"Fuck you," she swore vehemently, whirling about and jabbing a finger in his direction. "And finish it? Of course." Savagely, she undid the clasps on the back of the dress. Dawn again turned away, pulling the dress off and folding it across her bare torso before facing him again.

Now he looked stunned. "Why do you object so vehemently to the knowledge of my prior ... amorous adventures? I assure you, I do not intend to add you to that list."

She took her Guardian form and flung the dress in his general direction, rage building as she stormed towards him. "And how does one not get on /that /list? It seemed like I was almost there before another candidate interrupted." She choked on the end of the sentence, swallowing hard. "And since I can't repay you for the dress, keep it. Maybe it might come in handy for you again."

"Dawn, I ... " He couldn't say it. He closed his mouth, steeled his courage, and tried again. "I ... " He just could not say it! She was on the verge of storming out, in her perfect rage, and the words would not exit his mouth. He took a different tack. "Dawn ... don't, please don't. May I essay an explanation?"

Sure, why not?" She flopped unceremoniously onto the couch and pointedly rested her boots on the armrest. "Try me."

Breandon ran a hand through his loosened hair. He didn't want to sit beside her; she might hit him. "I did not, regardless of what you may believe, bring you here in order to make a 'conquest' of you. I respect my own history far too much for that; one does not use Senshi as sexual play toys." He closed his eyes. "I have made no secret of my personality with you. I find women charming; I enjoy them. I enjoy you. Even in your anger, which I seem to evoke rather easily. I will not," he opened his eyes and speared her with a green glare, "apologise for what I have done with my life before I met you! I do not make apologies for my actions to anyone, and the consequences are my own to assimilate."

"And I didn't ask for an apology," she countered. "At the same time, I think I have every right to question your intentions... maybe because I simply can't fathom how you can lead that kind of lifestyle, with what seems to me like so much..." Dawn let out a sigh of frustration and disgust while she searched for an adequate description. "Emotional fakery. False sincerity. I dunno."

At that, Breandon's temper, capricious at the best of times, exploded. "You think I lie to them? You think I have lied to you? How dare you presume to judge me, knowing as little as you know of this time, this place, me? How DARE you? I do not accept such an implication even from Kieran, to whom emotions are as clouds in the sky, and I will not tolerate it from you." He stalked forward, looming over her on the couch. "How do you dare?"

"BECAUSE I'LL BE /DAMNED/ IF I GET HURT AGAIN!" She shot to her feet in hysterics.

If anything, his voice dropped even lower, a bass and gravel purr that wall nearly inaudible. "You will not claim me a liar again. Not to my face. I require an apology for the insult."

"Then I'm sorry for making such an erroneous observation." She wiped her face with the back of her hand, a grotesque smile on her face as she curtsied. "My apologies, my dear Rainault."

All the rage ran out of him, leaving him flat and drained. Not even acknowledging the apology, he stumbled to the window, throwing an arm over his face to hide it. His voice was rough -- with tears? Dawn wasn't sure. "You've done enough. Go, please. Just go."

She froze, guilt replacing the sarcasm and wounded pride that had fuelled the previous rage. Dawn took a hesitant step towards the window, one word a meek whisper. "Breandon ..."

"Please!" His voice cracked.

But I don't know the way."

His shoulders slumped. "All right," he said wearily, "let me put my hair up. Wait here." He vanished up the stairs without waiting for a reply, and returned a few moments later looking suave and unruffled. He offered her his arm. "Shall we go, my lady?"

She nodded mutely, gently placing her gloved hand on the dark fabric of his sleeve. Eyes downcast, she managed to follow him out into the darkness of early morning.

The dress lay, forgotten, across the arm of the couch.