title: Elusive Thoughts | Chapter 10 rating: PG author: Mir email: incandescence@juno.com website: http://cathedraldragon.tripod.com/sm/ ((completely revised - send in your fics!)) disclaimer: Sailor Moon, et al. belongs to Naoko Takeuchi, etc., etc., and so on and so forth ^_^. The other characters belong to me...for whatever that's worth. I have no money to speak of, so suing me will not make you rich. Yes, and this story was inspired by Melanie Rawn's *Dragon Prince*. Kudos to her, it's an excellent novel. AN: It's taken me forever, hasn't it? I don't want to think about how many promises I've broken (because I promised to get this out by last Friday). Anyhow, here it is - better late than never, right? Please enjoy. Dare I say that some of the middle bits are a bit bumpy? Oh well, that's what I get for trying to make deadlines (even if I missed it *g*). But don't worry, I'll smooth everything out in the revision, whenever that happens ^_^. Happy reading! - and stay tuned for the sequel. *Chapter 10* The music floated lightly across the vast tented expanse as if each note were born upon tiny silken wings of air. Forgetting her bulging stomach, Serena grinned contentedly as she allowed Darien to lead her out onto the area reserved for dancing. Fingers entwined with his, she fell into step beside him, relaxing as his arm encircled her waist. "If this is the best you can do then I might as well collect my prize and leave," she whispered in jest, giving his left shoulder a light smack for emphasis. Darien winced in pain, grimacing briefly. "Gently, gently, remember the the race..." But then his arm tightened around Serena, and he snorted, pressing her against his chest. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you haven't even seen the half of it yet." They floated effortlessly across the floor, oblivious to the multitude of eyes that tracked their progress. Ariane leaned back in her chair and sighed in smug satisfaction. 'They're finally together' she thought to herself as she folded her hands in her lap. She risked a glance at the High Prince's table and was surprised to see Raonus engaged in quiet conversation with a man to his right. 'I would have thought he'd be seething by now, the way Darien completely eclipsed him' But she shrugged and aligned her attention back upon her dazzling pair, ignorant of the bet that had been cast by the dancing lovebirds. "My Lady, don't turn around - just listen." The low voice at her shoulder startled Ariane, and she could barely restrain herself from twisting around in her chair to glare at the speaker. The voice was vaguely familiar, a voice accustomed to both giving and receiving orders... where had she heard it before? "It is of the utmost importance that Darien hear what I'm about to tell you, but I can't very well go and pull him off of the dance floor, so I need you to warn him that his life may be in danger. I've been standing at the door, and there's a good dozen men in dark Sheridian garb lurking in the shadows outside." The voice paused to make sure she understood. "I'm not usually one to point fingers, but I know for sure that those mercenaries aren't here just to listen to the music. No, they're going to crash the party...and I'd pay anything to know who invited them." Ariane jumped as a hand reached over her shoulder and lifted her desert plate from the table. "Are you finished with your diner, Lady Araine?" The same voice inquired, this time loud enough for the entire table to hear. "I do hope that it was entirely to your liking." And the Lady of the Moonlight, contrary to the speakers orders, looked over her shoulder - and found herself nose to nose with none other than Andrew. The words 'I should have known' came instantly to mind, but she bit back any sort of contrary remark, focusing instead on the danger the young man had warned her of. "I couldn't have asked for better. Be sure to let Prince Helder know that his Kersian tubers were fabulous." Andrew nodded. "I'll certainly let him know, m'Lady." He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of what to do with the plate, then set off diligently in the direction of the small cooking tent connected to the far end of the large dining one. If some guests regarded him with puzzled gazes, he held his chin higher and ignored their stares. He had warned Ariane, now if only he could find some way to pry Darien away from Serena.... And the couple, the couple that no one could keep their eyes off of, drifted across the dance floor, one step leading to the next, and to the next and to the next. The minutes flew past in rapid secession, and neither Darien nor Serena took the slightest notice. One had her eyes closed, her head resting against a warm chest gently rising and falling. The other had his arms wrapped gently around the woman of his dreams, one hand caressing her back, the other her shoulders. - - - - - - - - - - Invisible to all but the keenest observer, a lithe shadow stalked the external perimeter of the glowing tent. His footsteps fell as light as the rolling mist, and his calloused hand was steady as it grasped the edge of the white tent flap. On his shoulder was a red badge, a solid field with a serpent rampant. The edge was bordered with a twist of gold and black, a mark of the order to which he belonged. But even his stealthy progress did not pass completely unnoticed. Two pairs of eyes tracked his silhouetted movements, one seated at the Desert tables, one standing guard by the door. The man moved as if to duck underneath the lifted flap, but then, in one liquid motion, let the canvas fall and withdrew back into the darkness. All was quiet; not a single blade of grass had been disturbed. If one had looked closely, he might have noticed the muted glow of heavily shaded lanterns. He might have seen the faint shadows of black cloaks against the starry backdrop. He might have smelt the lingering horsy odor of men who had spent too many hours in the saddle. But no one, save for two, cared. - - - - - - - - - - Andrew's brow furrowed in worry, and he wiped sweaty hands on the legs of his pants. He licked dry lips in nervous anticipation, one hand creeping downward to the hilt of his sword. It had been a gift from the Desert monarchs, a wedding gift when he'd exchanged vows with their lovely daughter. Every part of him ached in her absence, every moment worse than the one before. 'I will avenge her death; the Goddess is just and won't let such grievous an act go unpunished' He rocked back and forth on his heels, suppressing an urge to hum softly under his breath. It was waiting that was terrible, the waiting for the inevitable. And then, as events often do, the false serenity of progressing nightfall vanished into troubled chaos, a fleeting memory evaporated on the wings of dawn. "Stop!" The husky bellow cut through the floating music, cut through the low murmur of idle conversation. The speaker square himself against the white canvas backdrop, hands on hips and hat tilted jauntily to the side. "The next one to speak gets a taste of my sword." And from his hip he made a great show of unsheathing the long blade. If people hadn't been paying attention before, they certainly were now. The music died on the musicians' bow, and every few tables a ceramic teacup crashed unceremoniously upon the silken floor. Ariane clenched her teeth together, hands pressed firmly against the tablecloth, temper dangerously rising. "I ask you, what do you want?" The new speaker rose from his chair in the center of the room, purple robes falling behind him. The High Prince held a half-depleted wineglass in one hand, and he raised it to the intruder, as if he'd forgotten it still rested between his fingertips. "We want what we've been promised," the black-cloaked man replied. He stuck the tip of his sword into the hard earth, the hilt resting easily beneath his hand. "You know us, good Sir, we do our business, nothing more, nothing less. "And what business, exactly, do you have tonight?" The guests' attention shifted to the third speaker - a defiant Darien standing in the middle of the dance floor with Serena unashamedly by his side. The other couples had begun to creep back toward the tables, as if wanting desperately to have something nearby to duck underneath if the scene deteriorated further. "Ah, the young Princeling just a cocky as ever." A smile began to spread across the intruder's face, a quiet dangerous sort, and Ariane flinched, wondering if her godson was in over his head. 'Why couldn't he have just keep his mouth shut for once?' But before either Darien or Raonus could respond, a sharp voice exclaimed from the entrance, "Darien, it's Sheridia. They're surrounding the tent!" "Andrew?" Darien's hand reached for his sword - left resting within the trunk by his bedside - and he cursed under his breath, reaching instead for the beltknife at his waist. His fingers closed tightly around the hilt while his eyes mapped out the most direct route to the entrance. But before he could act in response to the warning, an unexpected tug on his arm sent him tumbling to the ground. "What the - " The anguished scream from the musicians' platform told him all, and he didn't have to turn around to know that a Sheridian glass knife had found its way into the flesh of an innocent bystander. He hesitated, torn between covering Serena's body with his and standing to confront the attackers head on, but before he could decide on a course of action the High Prince once again stepped forward. "Enough of this nonsense!" He exclaimed, unsheathing the sword (that he'd not hesitated to wear to an occasion where being armed was the apex of indecorous behavior. "You've disrupted my dinner, injured one of my finest musicians, and you prance about as if you own this place. I demand to know why you have the audacity to intrude upon this celebration!" If the guests had expected the leader of the Sheridians to cringe at the High Prince's words, they would have been sorely disappointed, for he neither flinched nor frowned - but rather, continued to hold an expression that wavered somewhere between boredom and impatience. "Empty words, your Highness, will get you nowhere tonight." He squared his shoulders to Raonus, but his eyes kept slipped toward the dance floor, watching closely as Darien helped Serena to her feet. Only a handful of the guests noticed that his left hand had slid behind his back, and fewer still understood that the two taps of his palm against his hip were a signal to his men. Darien was one - and, not giving her time to protest, he shoved Serena roughly into Ariane's lap. It only took him a moment to snatch the sword from the nervous hands of one of the guards, and before Serena had time to blink, he was by Andrew's side, blade held before him in warning to the Sheridians outside the tent. "Come one step closer, and I'll stick this in your gut," he growled. "Didn't your parents teach you that it's impolite to use false threats?" The Sheridian leader replied from the center of the tent. He chuckled lightly, a casual smile plastered across his face. "Oh, right, how improper of me to forget. They've been dead for years, haven't they?" Cursing under his breath, Darien glared back toward the other man out of the corner of his eye. 'How could I have forgotten about him? Am I that dumb that I'd leave Serena with the enemy?' Not taking his eyes off of the mercenaries, he clenched his teeth together, hands trembling ever so slightly. "You've no right to insult my parents. It's not their fault that they -" "Come, come, can't we all deal with this without spilling blood tonight?" The High Prince interjected. He was remarkably calm - not a bead of sweat moistened his brow, nor a single tremor seized his voice. "This is supposed to be a celebration, not a battle." As all eyes once again turned to Raonus, the Sheridians used the moment of distraction to shove their way into the tent. Three, no, four lithe shadows pushed past Darien, the last drawing his sword when he was almost on top of the prince. The others pressed forward against the now frantic crowd, brandishing their weapons at anyone who tried to escape out into the night. One look into the determined eyes of his attacker, one examination of the ritual scars that crisscrossed his cheeks, was all that Darien needed to banish any idea of stopping the flow events before steel clashed against steel, and he grunted as he threw up his blade to protect himself. "Tell me who you've been sent to kill." The Sheridian said nothing, but Darien hadn't expected him to reply. He ducked, feeling the movement of air from the other's sweep above his head, and began to move backward toward the center of the tent. Frantic shouts echoed in his ears, but he could barely distinguish voices above the bedlam of crashing glasses and breaking chairs. "Get off of me, you damn bastard!" It was a voice he couldn't miss, a shriek that fell upon his ears as lightning is drawn to the tallest tree. One swipe of his sword and his attacker reeled backward clutching his stomach, while Darien scrambled over the maze of destruction to find Serena. But he'd forgotten her performance at his coronation and at the races - for by the time he found her huddled underneath a table the Sheridian had already been disposed of. One glance at the corpse's features, frozen in intense agony, banished any desire to know what Serena had done to him, and Darien kicked the body with his boot, wanting to get it as far away from him as possible. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?" He asked, trying to make himself heard over the racket, but she shied away from his touch, crawling on hands and knees toward the opposite end of the table. Unsure of whether to follow her or continue to deal with the life beyond the edges of the tablecloth, Darien hesitated. It wouldn't have made any difference, for his decision was made for him. The sound of heavy boots clomping near his head caught his attention, and the voice that followed cut through his concern for Serena. "He's under one of the tables. I know he's here somewhere!" So they were after him, were they…Even as the conclusion flashed though his mind, his words from the other night returned as well. 'I'm a prince before a man…' He shook his head in frustration; of course his words would come back to haunt him. And so he slid forth in one fluid motion, pressing to his feet before he'd been spotted. "I wouldn't have thought you'd sunk low enough as to hire others to do your dirty work, Raonus." The High Prince pivoted sharply, letting the wounded Sheridian he'd been supporting collapse to the ground. He sneered, mouth twisted into an oddly satisfied grin. "Good. I was wondering where you'd run off to. You wouldn't have wanted to miss the grand finale, would you?" He cleared his throat noisily, eyes locked with Darien's. "Why Darien, my prince? There you are!" The shout caught him completely off guard, and the eerie quiet that settled over the tent thereafter dampened his senses, slowed his reactions. He didn't even see the Sheridian captain until he was inches from his side, dagger aimed at his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut, begging Serena to forgive him if he survived - but the expected blow never came. "Darien?" A bundle of dirty silk and streaming hair flew toward him as if propelled by some supernatural force. It stepped over the fallen Sheridian as if he didn't exist, and clutched the prince's arms like a set of iron manacles. The guests, those who hadn't fled from the scene, gawked in awe at the light that had emanated from the girl, the prince's guardian angel of sorts. Bless the Goddess, the captain never knew what hit him. "Serena?" Darien held her as tightly as she clung to him, his eyes scanning for signs of injury but finding none. "I, I thought…thought I'd never see you again…" - - - - - - - - - - The following morning, the sun slowing creeping up over the tired horizon - two riders sat one behind the other upon a gray stallion by the name of Daffyd. In spirit with the concept of pathetic fallacy, the air was light and the sky clear, the epitome of the perfect dawn. They neared a stretch of open grassland, and the horse stopped to allow his riders to dismount. Then they walked, hand in hand, gentle laughter drifting upwards on the morning breeze, a large gray shadow following at a respectful distance behind. "What do you think will happen?" Serena asked, shaking her head slightly and sighing. She already knew the response. "To Raonus? Nothing…not yet anyway. It was perfect, beautifully planned. He won either way." Darien paused in his stride, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The lingering remnants of dew clung to the tall grasses, leaving moist streaks across his pant legs as he walked. "If I died he could have claimed regency over the Desert until a suitable heir could be found. If I didn't die he would have the other princes so frightened and suspicious of each other that they'd jump at the slightest accusation of wrong." He reached down to snag a handful of grasses, and then let them fall to the ground while he dried damp fingers on the front of his shirt. "Do you think they would've believed me if I'd told them that their illustrious High Prince was the one behind the attack? Not after he'd told them that he hadn't the vaguest idea who had organized the intrusion." She placed a hand on his chest, jaw set in solemn honesty but eyes dancing. "You underestimate yourself. If you talk I'm sure that at least some will listen." "Listening's one thing…but believing's another," he replied quietly. "They'll believe whatever they want to hear." He shrugged, wrapping his arms around Serena and falling sideways into the soft grass. "But sooner or later they'll want to hear what we have to say, want to hear it so badly that they'll do anything to wrench it out of us." She squirmed in his embrace, managing to free her arms so that she could play with his hair. "And when will that be?" She asked, teasing his seriousness. "Someday, someday soon," was the reply, and anything that would have followed was smothered by a barrage of well-placed kisses. *end of Chapter 10* - - - - - - - - - - Wow! I can't believe it...It's been four months, but I've finally finished! Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's ever written me about any of my stories. I want to apologize to all of you who've been waiting for the next chapter of "Driftwood." That's next on my list of things to do, I promise! Keep your eyes open for revisions of "Elusive Thoughts" (I've got some new scenes that I'm going to add in), and some time in the future there's going to be a sequel as well - I've already got the plot sort-of planned out...but "Driftwood" first, as promised ^_^. Email, email, email...tell me what you think! - Mir 03.20.01