FIC: Blodeuedd, Part 3 of 3

[geri_chan]

Title: Blodeuedd, Part 3 of 3
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Leon/D, but the story mostly focuses on two OCs, a customer of D's and his "pet"
Word count: ~6,285
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Matsuri Akino; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Summary: Sequel to "Spirits". D sells a pet to a lonely young man. The story is based on a Welsh legend from The Mabinogion.

Part 1, Part 2

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Kyle could not sleep. He stayed up all night, replaying in his mind everything he had seen and heard, over and over again. When dawn broke, he went up to Blodeuedd's room. She was sprawled across the bed, asleep, blood smeared across her mouth and the front of her shirt. Hands trembling, he quietly backed out and shut the door.

Later that morning Kyle called in sick and canceled his classes. Then he drove to the city, heading straight for Chinatown.

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The doors of the shop swung back on their hinges, crashing against the wall. Count D looked up, raising an eyebrow. He had been expecting Mr. Hamilton, but his method of entry was more akin to that of a certain police detective... Kyle Hamilton looked even worse than he had on his first visit; his clothes still looked as if he'd slept in them, his face was unshaven, and his eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles beneath them.
    
"Count!" Kyle shouted.
    
The Count took a sip of tea from a white porcelain cup decorated with images of tiny red bats. Today his nails were a deep blood-red, matching his cheongsam, which was red, with designs of flowers and birds embroidered in gold. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Hamilton?" he asked calmly.
    
"Why didn't you tell me about Blodeuedd's curse?" demanded Kyle. "How could you let her live like that?"
    
"Please take a seat, Mr. Hamilton, and let me pour you some tea."
    
"I don't want any tea! I want some answers!"
    
"Sit," said the Count, gently but firmly, "and you shall have them." He waited, sipping his tea, until Kyle sat down on the couch, glaring at him.
    
The Count placed another cup in front of his guest, and poured some tea. Both the cup and the teapot were painted with the same design as the Count's cup. "Bats are a symbol of happiness in China," he said.
    
"Kyu!" squeaked Q-chan in agreement. He flew down to the coffee table, and Count D poured some tea into a saucer for his pet. Q-chan lapped at the tea, then waddled over to a large plate on the table. It was filled with small square cakes covered with pastel-colored icing. Q-chan picked one up and bit into it, munching happily.
    
The Count motioned towards the plate with a languid wave of his hand. "Please try some of these petit fours, they are quite delicious."
    
"I don't want tea or cake," said Kyle through gritted teeth. "I want to know how to break Blodeuedd's curse! Why didn't you tell me about it?"
    
"I did say that the lady was under a spell," the Count reminded him. "But it was her story to tell, not mine." As Kyle continued to glare at him, Count D took another sip of tea and said mildly, "I am not sure why you are angry with me. If you know the story behind the curse, you know it was not I who placed it upon her. I merely gave her shelter, and tried to make her life more comfortable."
    
Kyle flushed, and had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I was so angry, I guess I wanted to take it out on someone, and Gwydion's not around anymore."
    
"The fact that Blodeuedd told you her story speaks well of you. She would not have told it to someone she did not trust."
    
Kyle took a sip of tea, feeling a little calmer. It pleased him to think that Blodeuedd trusted him. But he was still suspicious of the Count's motives. "Why did you sell her to me? You must've thought I had the power to break the curse! There is a way to break it, isn't there?"
    
"Of course," said the Count with a serene smile. He picked up one of the petit fours, holding it between the long nails of his thumb and forefinger as he placed it between his plum-colored lips. He chewed slowly as Kyle squirmed with impatience.
    
"Well?!" demanded Kyle.
    
After a long moment, the Count swallowed and replied, "There are actually two ways to break the curse. The first would be for Llew to forgive Blodeuedd. Obviously, that is no longer possible."
    
"And the second?!" Kyle fought down an urge to strangle the Count, who seemed to be dragging out the story for dramatic effect.
    
"A man who truly loves her may grant Blodeuedd her freedom."
    
"How? What do I have to do? Slay a dragon? Go on a quest for the Water of Life, what?"
    
The Count laughed softly. "You have been reading too many fairy tales, Mr. Hamilton. All you must do is say 'I release you,' and truly mean it in your heart."
    
"That's all?" asked Kyle incredulously.
    
"It is not as simple as it seems, Mr. Hamilton. You would be giving her complete freedom: not just freeing her from her owl form, but giving her the ability to choose her own destiny. To remain a human woman, if that is her wish, or to once again become a field of flowers. The freedom to stay with you...or to leave you." The Count's eyes narrowed as he watched Kyle intently. The professor turned pale as the full implications of Count D's words sank in. "Ah, it is not such an easy decision after all, is it? It is often difficult to let go of the ones we love."
    
"I...I could lose her," whispered Kyle. "She said...she wants to become flowers once more."
    
"Even if she chose to remain human, she could still leave you," pointed out the Count. "Breaking the spell requires that you love her; it does not require that she love you."
    
"I can't...I can't do it! I can't bear to lose her!"
    
"Well then, the contract still holds. She is your pet, your property, as long as you continue to follow the conditions we agreed to."
    
The Count spoke in a cool, businesslike tone, but Kyle flinched as if he had been struck. How could he keep Blodeuedd like a slave, when he had promised earlier he would never hold her against her will? But the thought of losing her, of being alone again... He buried his head in his hands, and groaned, "What should I do?!"
    
"That must be your decision," said the Count. "No one else, not I, nor even Blodeuedd, can make it for you. To break the spell, you must sincerely desire to give her the freedom to make her own choice, even if it means losing her forever. If you say the words, but do not feel them in your heart, the curse will not be broken." Kyle stared at him blankly.  After several minutes of silence, the Count asked, "Is there any other business you wished to discuss today?" Kyle shook his head. "Then I am afraid there is nothing more I can do for you." The Count sipped his tea. "Good day, Mr. Hamilton."
    
Kyle stumbled to his feet and staggered out the door, looking like a man walking away from a car wreck or a drinking binge. Q-chan fluttered up to the Count's shoulder. "Chu?" he asked softly.
    
D reached up and stroked his pet. "I do not know if he will have the strength to break the curse," he replied. "I had such hopes for him..." The Count sighed. "But perhaps he is not the one." He looked down at his cup and frowned. "The tea is cold; we shall have to make a fresh pot. Come, Q-chan."

_____________________________________________________________________


Kyle didn't tell Blodeuedd what Count D had told him, and she didn't ask where he had gone. He kept trying to rationalize not releasing Blodeuedd from her curse. Flowers were so fragile, he told himself. They could be destroyed by a storm, dug up by animals, be trampled or picked by humans. She was much safer as a person; he was just keeping her safe. But he didn't really believe it.
    
Blodeuedd withdrew into herself, speaking only if spoken to, and even then, said as little as possible. She stopped reading the books in Kyle's library, and they no longer had their long talks over dinner. She spent most of her time in her room, staring off blankly into space.
    
She even stopped working in the garden. One morning he found bloody feathers on the ground beneath her window. Kyle bought houseplants to try and cheer her up, but she ignored them as she ignored everything else. He ended up taking care of them himself, not wanting to let them die.

_____________________________________________________________________                       
       

Kyle dutifully went out to the yard to water the plants. It seemed to him that the flowers were drooping, although they had been perfectly healthy a few days ago. "Sorry, guys," he said ruefully. "I'm doing my best, but I know it's not the same." As he watered the lemon tree, its leaves rustled softly, as if it were asking, "Where is Blodeuedd?" Kyle's eyes filled with tears, and he leaned against the tree, pressing his face against the rough bark, and whispered, "I miss her too."
    
He went back into the house, and found Blodeuedd in her room. She sat in a chair in the corner, staring at the wall. The curtains were drawn across the windows, as if she no longer wanted to be reminded of the outside world.
    
"Blodeuedd," Kyle said. When she did not respond, he touched her gently on the shoulder, and she turned towards him. She was wearing the same blue gown she had worn on the day he met her. Her outward appearance had not changed; she didn't look haggard and unkempt like he did. Her gown was clean and unwrinkled; her skin was still flawless and creamy-pale, no dark circles under the eyes or frown-lines on her  forehead; and her golden hair was still smooth and shiny. Yet she seemed like a shadow of her former self, all the life, all the hope drained out of her. Perhaps she had not had much hope to begin with, but neither had he. Somehow they had found a small measure of comfort in each other's company...had he destroyed that with his selfishness? Or had they been doomed from the start by Gwydion's curse?
    
"Blodeuedd," he repeated. "Please come out to the garden with me." She shook her head. "The flowers...they're not doing so well. And the lemon tree misses you." I miss you, he thought.
    
"I'm sorry, Kyle," she whispered. "They'll have to manage without me."
    
"But why?" he pleaded. "I thought you loved the flowers!"
    
"It hurts too much to see them, to be reminded of what I have lost."
    
"I know you want to return to your flower form, but is being a woman really so bad? You were so happy when we first started the garden--"
    
"For a brief time each day, I was able to pretend that the curse did not exist. But it was only an illusion; there is no escaping my fate."
    
"But what about the books? Would you ever have learned of Shakespeare and Yeats and Keats as a flower?"
    
"Keats died young," she murmured, "like a flower dying as it blooms." She sighed, and her eyes seemed to look past him, back through the centuries. "Gronw never stopped to think what revenge a powerful mage might take for the murder of his beloved nephew. But I did. I thought I did not care what happened to me. I thought the worst he could do was kill me." A single tear left a glistening trail across her cheek. "I was wrong."
    
"Please," begged Kyle, "Blodeuedd, don't give up hope. We'll go traveling, we can see all the famous gardens in America and Europe--" Wait, no, the contract said no one else could see her! "I'll build a greenhouse," he babbled desperately. "We'll have exotic flowers all year round--any kind of flower you want! Every kind of flower you can imagine!" Just please, please don't leave me! he silently implored her.
    
"I have no strength left to fight," she whispered. Kyle looked into her eyes, and saw that she had gone beyond pain, beyond anger, even beyond despair. Her eyes were empty of any emotion, save for a vague weariness.
    
He wanted to shake her, even slap her; anything to get a reaction out of her, to break her out of her trance! He wanted to kiss her...
    
Kyle ran out of the room. Without thinking, he found himself running up the stairs to the attic. His legs felt wobbly, and he sat down heavily, almost fell as his legs folded under him. He leaned back against a large chest for support. He gasped for breath, heart pounding. What the hell was wrong with him?! How could he even think about hitting Blodeuedd? No wonder she had told the Count that all men were the same! Was he no better than Llew or Gwydion? But he was so scared of losing her!
    
After a few minutes he became aware of his surroundings. Old lamps and furniture, covered with dust...cardboard boxes...the large wooden chest he was leaning against. He slowly turned and ran his hand across the lid, wiping away a layer of dust. It was an old cedar chest that had belonged to his mother, and her mother before that...a family heirloom, she had said. But he had no family anymore...they were all dead; all but him. His hands moved of their own accord, without his willing it, slowly lifting the lid of the chest. He felt detached from reality, as if he were watching himself move through a dream. He laid out the contents of the chest on the floor, one by one. A patchwork quilt his mother had sewn for him when he was a child. His baby clothes, folded into neat little squares. An old teddy bear, threadbare from too much hugging, missing one button eye, and oozing stuffing from a tear in its belly. Misshapen clay ashtrays and animals he had made for his parents as a child. His mother's wedding dress, the white satin and lace turning yellow with age. A bouquet of dried flowers, also from the wedding. A half-full crystal bottle of his mother's favorite perfume.
    
He began opening the other boxes in the attic, continuing to lay the items out methodically. He didn't want to look at these things, these memories from his past, but he seemed to have no control over his body as it unpacked more clothes, his mother's good china, his father's collection of jazz albums, and finally...a box filled with photo albums and framed pictures, including a family portrait of himself at age seven or eight with his parents. They were younger than he was now; forever frozen in time, a lovely young couple smiling at the camera as if they didn't have a care in the world. His hands began to tremble and his eyes blurred with tears. The picture slipped from his fingers, the glass shattering as it hit the floor.
    
The sound of breaking glass triggered something in Kyle, setting off a sudden frenzied rage. He began destroying everything he could lay his hands on: he hurled his mother's china plates against the wall, threw his father's prized records to the floor, stomping on the vinyl till it broke into pieces. He flung a chair across the room; it crashed into an old lamp, scattering shards of glass all over the floor. He smashed his clay figures and the delicate perfume bottle, and the sickly-sweet scent of perfume filled the air. He slipped in the puddle of perfume, and fell to the floor. The rage drained out of him then, leaving behind only the sense of loss and a desperate loneliness. He lay on the floor, heedless of the shards of glass and pottery, and for the first time in years, he wept.
    
"Why does everyone I love leave me?" he cried out.
    
"Kyle? Are you all right?"
    
He looked up and through his tears, he saw Blodeuedd kneeling beside him. He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve, and saw an expression of  concern on her face. He felt incredibly touched that she had actually come out of her shell to come and check on him.  
    
"It sounded like there was a demon or a horde of warriors loose up here," she said.
    
"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," he said, but the smile on his face belied his words. He sat up, brushing shards of glass from his body. "It was just me."
    
She looked around the attic. "You did all this?" she asked incredulously.
    
"I'm afraid so."
    
"Why?"
    
Kyle's smile faded. He couldn't meet her eyes anymore. He looked away, and his gaze fell on the picture of himself and his parents. He picked it up. The glass in the frame was broken, but the photo beneath it was intact.
    
"Is that you?" asked Blodeuedd.
    
"Yes," he replied softly. "Me...and my parents. They died in a plane crash when I was twelve. My dad was going on a business trip, and my mom went along to keep him company. I wanted to go too, but they said I'd miss too much school. I think maybe they just wanted to spend some time together--you know, a few days alone without the kid. They really loved each other, even after being married all those years. He used to bring her flowers all the time. I heard Mom joking with Dad before they left, about their 'romantic getaway'. I was really mad about being left  behind with a baby-sitter. I remember my mom hugged me and kissed me goodbye when they left, but I was sulking, and I didn't hug her back. The plane crashed several hours later. Everyone on board was killed. And I didn't tell my parents I loved them. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye."
    
"I'm sorry," said Blodeuedd gently.
    
Kyle felt that familiar hollow emptiness inside him once more, a void no one had ever been able to fill, not even Julia. She had been right, he now realized, when she had said that he hadn't trusted her, that he hadn't really loved her. He had thought she could fill the empty space inside him, but it hadn't worked, driving him to cling to her desperately, demanding more and more of her time and affection. But somehow no matter how much she had assured him that she loved him, it was never enough. How could he trust anyone when the people he had loved the most had left him without warning? For a time, Blodeuedd had kept the loneliness at bay, but now she too had left him, in spirit if not in body.
    
"Are you?" Kyle asked bitterly. "Can you really know what it's like to lose your family? You never had parents, unless you consider the wizards who created you your fathers."
    
"No! Gwydion and Math were no kin of mine! I do not have parents, if you go by the human definition. But my mother was the earth, and my father the sun and rain. And it hurt me to be pulled from my mother's embrace, as it would hurt a human child to be torn from its mother's arms."
    
Kyle lowered his head guiltily. He had been so wrapped up in his own pain that he had forgotten hers. "I'm sorry," he said. He looked at the mess on the floor and felt even more ashamed of himself. In a fit of pique, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, he had destroyed his parents' possessions--not valuable monetarily, perhaps, but irreplaceable because they were all he had left of his mother and father. He began picking up pieces of broken glass, mumbling, "Sorry, I'll clean up the mess."
    
"Let me help," said Blodeuedd.
    
"No, that's all right--ouch!" Kyle exclaimed suddenly as he nicked his fingers on a sharp shard of glass.
    
"Be careful! You'll hurt yourself! Let me see..." Blodeuedd took his hand in hers. Her hands were soft and gentle, and Kyle shivered with longing.
    
"Do you care?" he asked urgently, gazing into her eyes intently. "Do you care what happens to me?"
    
Blodeuedd stared back at him, her exquisite blue eyes filled with confusion. "What do you mean? You have been kind to me; why should I wish you ill?"
    
"Never mind," Kyle sighed in disappointment. "It doesn't matter." He pulled his hand back. "It's nothing, only a scratch." For a moment, he had hoped that her concern meant she cared for him the way he cared for her. But she only saw him as a friend; perhaps not even that...perhaps he was only a kinder master than Gwydion or Llew. He had thought they had developed, if not exactly a romance, then at least a friendship while working on the garden and reading books together. But what true friend holds a friend against their will? He had the power to free her...but he was afraid to lose her.
    
Blodeuedd helped him clean up the the attic. They swept up the glass and broken items, and packed away the things that were still intact. Kyle hesitated over the photo albums. "What are those?" asked Blodeuedd.
    
"Pictures of my family," he replied. He didn't want to discourage even the slightest sign of curiosity in her; even the pain of facing his past was better than seeing her in that utterly numb, hopeless state. So he opened the album he was holding, revealing candid family shots: his parents kissing at a New Year's Eve party; himself blowing out candles on a birthday cake; he and his father playing catch in the yard; his mother reading to him as he sat on her lap, clutching his teddy bear; all three of them building a sand castle on the beach.
    
"They look very happy," said Blodeuedd, a little wistfully. "It seems as though they loved each other, and you."
    
"Yes, they did...we did," replied Kyle in a husky voice. "Very much." He was unable to say anything else; he was afraid if he did he would burst into tears again.
    
"Did you have other kin, who took you in when your parents died?"
    
Kyle took a deep breath and wiped his eyes before he answered. "My parents were both only children, so I didn't have any aunts or uncles. My mother's parents had died years earlier, and my father's parents were in poor health, and not up to taking care of a child. But my father was wealthy, and left a large trust fund for me. He left me this house, and plenty of money...enough so that I can do what I love--teach--without worrying about paying the bills. But I would trade it all away if it would bring my parents back..." He sighed. "Anyway, I went to boarding school most of the year, and spent holidays with my grandparents. They did their best but...they never got over losing my dad." He hesitated, then said softly, "Neither did I. They died when I was in college, first my grandmother, then my grandfather just a month later. I think he just lost the will to live after losing his son and then his wife."
    
"Gwydion loved Llew," said Blodeuedd, in a tone that was more surprised than bitter, as if this had never occurred to her before. "As deeply as a father loves his son. He was both father and mother to Llew, since Arianrhod rejected him. He used to look at Llew the way your father looked at you in these pictures. There was nothing he would not do for Llew." They were both silent for a long moment, thinking of the incredible things Gwydion had done for his nephew's sake--including creating a woman out of flowers. "He let no insult or harm to Llew, however slight, pass unpunished. I overheard Math telling him once that perhaps he loved the boy too much. But I did not understand what he meant."
    
"Maybe he meant that Gwydion was too overprotective of Llew. I remember my father telling my mother once, 'Sometimes you have to let them make their own mistakes.' I didn't understand that either, then. But as children grow up, their parents need to let them go, otherwise how will they learn to stand on their own?" Kyle fell silent then, remembering the Count's words: "It is often difficult to let go of the ones we love." And then a line from a song popped into his head: "If you love someone, set them free." He choked back an hysterical giggle. I can't believe Sting is acting as my conscience! he thought. How did the original saying go? Something like "if you love something, set it free. If it returns, it is yours; if not, it was never yours to begin with." He closed his eyes, and finally acknowledged what he had known all along: Blodeuedd was not his, had never been his, no matter what the contract said. She was her own person, or at least she deserved to be, having had to serve the will of men ever since she was created.  
    
"Kyle?" asked Blodeuedd softly. "Are you all right?"
    
He blinked and looked into her clear blue eyes. He could force her to stay with him, and she wouldn't even blame him, since she didn't know that he could break the curse. But she would be miserable, and he couldn't bear to see her so unhappy anymore. He felt a terrible, physical pain at the thought of losing her, as if someone had slid a knife into his heart--No wonder they call it heartbreak, he thought. But he knew he had to let her go. Perhaps that was what love really was--not romance and flowers and diamond rings--but caring for someone enough that you would place their happiness above your own.
    
Kyle rose to his feet, and took Blodeuedd by the hand. He had to do this quickly, before he lost his nerve. "Blodeuedd, please come out to the garden with me."
    
"Kyle, I can't--"
    
"Please!" he begged. "Just this once! I'll never ask it of you again. Please..."
    
Blodeuedd opened her mouth to protest, but something in his eyes stopped her. She let Kyle pull her to her feet and lead her out to their garden.
    
They stood in the midday sun, in the middle of the flower bed. Kyle took one last long look at her, memorizing every detail of her face, from the cornflower-blue of her eyes to the way her pale gold hair curled against her cheek. Then he kissed her tenderly on the forehead and said, "I release you."
    
Blodeuedd stared at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly. Then she gasped as she felt waves of magic swirl around her.
    
Kyle smiled at her through his tears. She looked even more beautiful than usual, as sparkling motes of light whirled around her, like a swarm of jeweled fireflies. Although his heart ached, he somehow felt at peace. He realized he no longer felt hollow inside. "Be free, Blodeuedd," he said.
    
Blodeuedd wept, hardly daring to believe what was happening. Finally, after all these centuries, the curse had been lifted! She felt the magic brush against her skin like a gentle breeze, ready to do her bidding. All she had to do was will it, and she would become flowers once more. But she stopped to look at Kyle, the man who had freed her, one last time. But when she looked into his eyes...     
    
No one had ever looked at her that way before. Gwydion had looked upon her with pride, at least before she had betrayed him, the way an artist looks at a great masterpiece he has created. Llew had admired her beauty, and treated her with offhand affection. Gronw had gazed upon her with a kind of greedy desire. No one had ever looked at her the way Kyle did now, with that odd mixture of sorrow and joy. She knew he desired her--yet he was letting her go.
    
She felt the magic beginning to dissipate--she had to make her choice quickly. For hundreds of years she had dreamed of this moment...why was she hesitating now? Memories flashed through her mind:
    
Kyle handing her a potted violet.
    
The feel of the cool, moist dirt beneath her fingers as she dug in the garden.
    
She and Kyle laughing together as they worked in the garden.
    
She and Kyle discussing books together over dinner.
    
Kyle weeping on the attic floor.
    
The lemon tree, waking to her touch, as if from a long hibernation...had not Kyle woken her from her own hibernation?
    
And finally...Count D telling her, "You must choose."
    
Humans were tormented by emotions that flowers did not have to endure...fear, anger, sorrow. She had longed to return to the blissful oblivion of plant life. Yet that would also mean giving up joy and laughter...and love. Blodeuedd made her decision.

Kyle watched as the motes of light gradually faded away. Blodeuedd was still standing in the garden. "Wha...what happened?" he stuttered. "The spell--it wasn't broken?" He didn't dare to hope...
    
"It was broken, my love," said Blodeuedd. Kyle forgot to breathe as she reached up and gently caressed his cheek with her hand. She smiled, and he realized that all the times she had smiled before were but a shadow of the real thing. Her smile was like the sun emerging from behind the clouds, its light warming his soul. "This is my choice."
    
Kyle wept, this time with joy, as he pulled her into his arms and whispered, "I love you."

_____________________________________________________________________


EPILOGUE--two months later.

Leon strolled into the pet shop. "Hey, D."
    
"Good evening, Keiji-san," replied the Count pleasantly. "I have not seen you for awhile."
    
Leon eyed the Count warily. Uh-oh. Was D pissed that he hadn't stopped by the shop for several days? He didn't sound mad, but you could never tell with the Count...
    
"There was a string of gang-related shootings," said Leon defensively. "I've been pretty busy."
    
"But you are no longer busy?" inquired the Count.
    
"Nope, I solved the case, like the great detective I am!" said Leon proudly.
    
"Kyu," muttered Q-chan. Leon wondered how the little bat could make a one-syllable squeak sound so derisive.
    
"Anyway, here, this is for you," said Leon, handing the Count a box of Godiva chocolates.
    
"Mmm...chocolate caramels and amaretto truffles," said D opening the box. "Well, I suppose I shall forgive you this time." He spoke in a cool tone, but Leon hid a smile as he saw the gleam of greed in D's gold and purple eyes. He knew it was taking all of Mr. Inscrutable Asian's willpower not to just dive into the box of chocolates. He was so pleased with himself that he restrained himself from saying the words that were on the tip of his tongue: Why on earth do I need your forgiveness?
    
D saw Leon's smirk, but decided to let it pass for now. "And this is for you, Keiji-san." He handed Leon a cream-colored envelope.
    
Leon looked at the envelope and frowned. "This is addressed to you," he said.
    
"It says 'Count D and guest.' Read the card."
    
"'Kyle and Blodeuedd'--what the hell kind of name is that?"
    
"It means 'flower-like' in Welsh."
    
"--'invite you to share in their happiness as they join in marriage'--hey! This is a wedding invitation!"
    
"How astute of you to notice," said the Count sarcastically. "Is that your detective's intuition at work?"
    
"I don't even know these people!" protested Leon.
    
"But I do. And besides, Kyle is a friend of our friend, Simon Holt."
    
"So what? I hate weddings! Jill dragged me to her friend's wedding last month 'cause her date canceled at the last minute, and man! I thought I was gonna die of boredom!" Not to mention the fact that his ribs had been bruised for days after, since she kept elbowing him in the side every time he started to fall asleep! "Wait a minute..." said Leon suspiciously. "Are you asking me to be your date?"
    
"Is there something wrong with that?" asked D, his polite tone of voice suddenly acquiring a sharp edge.
    
"Well...uh...not exactly...it's just..." What was wrong, was that Leon wasn't sure he was ready to be seen in public with D. They had developed a sort of tentative, off-and-on relationship. Leon frequently got cold feet, but he was never able to stay away from the mesmerizing Count for very long, which resulted in him spending a lot of money on pastries and chocolates as gifts to soothe his miffed lover. Lover...he had a hard time saying that word, even to himself. He could acknowledge in private that D was his lover, but was he ready to "come out" to the world? He already got a lot of smartass remarks and insulting innuendoes about him and the Count from some of his fellow cops. But they were still able to treat it as a joke, since no one but Jill knew for sure about him and D. But if it became public knowledge that he and the Count were an item...they could, and probably would, make his life a living hell.
    
"I doubt that any of your fellow police officers will be in attendance," said the Count dryly, reading his mind as usual. "However, if you are ashamed to be seen in public with me..."
    
"I'm not ashamed!" snapped Leon, which wasn't exactly true. "I hate weddings!" Well, at least that part was true!
    
The Count ignored him and continued, "...then I am sure I can find someone else to accompany me to the wedding."
    
"Like who?" demanded Leon jealously.
    
"Oh...Madame Jill, perhaps. Or that nice young man from the Chinese restaurant...Peter Chen. He has been asking me to teach him about Chinese culture and history. He is a fourth-generation Chinese American, and wishes to learn more about his heritage." D gave Leon his best sweet-and-innocent smile.
    
"Better watch out--remember what happened the last time some chef started romancing you!"
    
"He is not a chef; he is the delivery boy--"
    
"I don't care if he's the Emperor of China!"
    
"There is no Emperor in China anymore--"
    
"Never mind! I'll go to your stupid wedding, OK?!"
    
The Count smiled, magnanimous now that he had gotten his way. "Please sit, Leon-san, and have some tea. This is a special blend which should calm your nerves."
    
Leon huffed, and flopped down on the couch. "Do I have to wear a monkey suit?" he grumbled.
    
The Count smiled, as his imagination conjured up an image of Leon wearing a gorilla costume. But all he said was, "The invitation says 'casual attire'. The wedding is to be held outdoors, at the groom's residence. But I would prefer that you wear something a little less casual than a Metallica t-shirt."
    
"Hmmph. And I suppose you'll be wearing a dress?"
    
The Count considered telling Leon that he would soon be wearing the contents of the teapot if he kept referring to the Count's cheongsams as dresses. But he decided to show that he, unlike the detective, had some self-control and dignity.
    
Leon watched with amusement as the Count's lips thinned with irritation as he pressed them together tightly. D was always baiting him, but Leon had also learned a few of the Count's weak spots, enough to hold his own in their verbal sparring matches.
    
D got himself under control. The icy look in his eyes told Leon without words that he was beneath the Count's contempt, as he said, "I shall of course wear an informal cheongsam."
    
What the heck is an "informal cheongsam"? wondered Leon. But another thing he had learned was how far he could push his luck, and he sensed it would be wise not to annoy D any further...especially if he wanted to get lucky tonight.
    
Leon sighed and leaned back against the couch. "Okay, you win--we go to the wedding; I won't wear a t-shirt, and you can wear--" He almost said "a dress," but D glared at him. "--whatever you like," finished Leon hastily. "Your, ah, informal cheongsam. Are you satisfied now?" he asked, exasperated.
    
"Not quite," said D with a mischievous little smile. He moved across the couch, and sat on the detective's lap, wrapping his arms around Leon's neck. "Now, I'm satisfied."
    
"Uh..." was all Leon could say, as he found his lap full of a silk-clad Count. The slippery silk was causing D to slide off his lap, and Leon quickly put his arms around D to keep him from falling off.
    
"Don't you know I always win?" the Count whispered into his ear.
    
That was usually true, thought Leon, and it was almost always easier to give in than to argue with the Count. He might argue the point with D later, but not right now. He brushed his lips against D's throat, murmuring, "Sometimes you can win by losing."
    
"Why, Keiji-san, that is almost profound!" said D. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet."
    
"Oh, shut up and kiss me," ordered Leon. And for once, the Count did not argue with him.

THE END.

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Afterword: This story was partially influenced by Evangeline Walton's retelling of the Blodeuedd tale, "The Island of the Mighty". The idea of Gwydion being an overly protective and indulgent parent to Llew comes from that novel.