Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6677488.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gundam_Wing
  Relationship:
      Quatre_Raberba_Winner/Heero_Yuy, Treize_Khushrenada/Quatre_Raberba
      Winner, Trowa_Barton/Quatre_Raberba_Winner, Chang_Wufei/Duo_Maxwell,
      Zechs_Merquise/Lucrezia_Noin, Trowa_Barton/Quatre_Raberba_Winner/Heero
      Yuy
  Character:
      Heero_Yuy, Quatre_Raberba_Winner, Trowa_Barton, Duo_Maxwell, Chang_Wufei,
      Treize_Khushrenada, Zechs_Merquise, Lucrezia_Noin, Lady_Une, Rashid
      Kurama
  Additional Tags:
      Yaoi, Alternate_Universe_-_Dark, Love_Triangles, betrothals, Arranged
      Marriage, Marriage_of_Convenience, Romance, Angst, Threesome_-_M/M/M
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-09 Completed: 2016-05-19 Chapters: 20/20 Words: 67308
****** Consponsata ******
by Noelleian
Summary
     Prince Quatre convinces Heero, a peasant from the neighboring kingdom
     to elope with him so that he can escape his betrothal to General
     Treize. In return, Heero is assured that his land and his people will
     be protected from the tyrannical rule of Ghali.
***** The Devil In the Flesh *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter has implied attempted rape.
Hello! I just wanted to say thanks for checking out my story! I hope you enjoy
it. I just wanted to share that this story is a fictional fantasy romance with
  political elements. This is not in any way a political story and real world
rules do not apply. All I can say about this story is don't overthink it haha!
Quatre is a little damsel-in-distress-y, but he is in no way wimpy, or weak. I
  refuse to write him that way. His situation in this story is due to adults
  having power over him that he cannot control, but he fights the only way he
  can. There are elements in this story that some may find squicky, the most
 notable being characters who in our day and age would be considered underage.
  And while this is a fictionally historical setting, certain things like the
   pairing off and mating of young people do apply here as it was common in
  ancient times, so please heed that and please heed the warnings as there is
   rape, attempted rape, the concept of sexual slavery, as well as violence.
                              Thanks for reading!
        Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story so please don't sue. 
===============================================================================
 
The click of boot heels echoed off the stone walls of the dungeon, coming
closer, the sonance menacing. Lieutenant Zechs Merquise shifted on his feet,
unsure how mere footsteps could be threatening, but intimidated all the same.
They were the footfalls of the most sadistic man in all of Ghali. Worse than
that, he was the right hand man of their ruler, second in power and influence.
His mere presence commanded respect, incited terror. The sound of his steps was
a warning, an omen, of insidious things to come.
He waited uneasily as his General approached, knowing the news was never good
and dreading being the one Treize took his anger out on. From the whispers of
gossip around the castle, Treize had apparently tried to bed his betrothed
early that morning and it had not gone over well. A servant spied the General
pinning their Prince to the wall of his chambers and the answering screams
reverberated along the winding hallways, though no one dared intervene. It was
sanctioned by the King after all.
The King had promised his only son to the General in return for his loyalty and
protection from the neighboring kingdoms. He was of the belief that they were
trying to remove him from his throne and he was probably right. He was a
tyrant, a murderer, and such things were no longer acceptable in the new
world. 
Treize, a tyrant himself, ruthless, heart black like coal, had eagerly agreed
to the proposal. He had his sights set on inheriting the kingdom of Ghali for
himself. That was, when his soon to be husband took the throne, though Treize’s
personal plans were far more nefarious. 
He was obsessed with the Prince and Zechs had known the man long enough to know
that his intention was not to rule by the heir’s side, but rather to seize all
the power for himself and adorn the boy in chains.
Zechs had watched them interact and sufficed to say, the Prince was not the
least bit impressed with the General who couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of
him, even in public. He worried for the Prince’s safety, not that he would do
anything about it. He didn’t want to lose his head. 
He’d been down in the dungeons, “interrogating” the prisoners when word reached
him that the General had attempted to have his way with the Prince, only to
take a knee to the groin, had his face nearly clawed off. To say he was not
happy was an understatement. Treize was cruel on his good days. He was
downright demonic on his bad.
Zechs steeled himself, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin as
Treize appeared around the corner. His stride was imbued of arrogance. His
essence, his aura bled viciousness in every gesture, every movement, every
merciless glare. When he got closer, Zechs could see that the rumor mill had
been right. Four long gouges ran the length of the General’s cheek, starting at
his temple and extending down to his throat. He silently applauded Prince
Quatre and settled his face into a neutral expression.
He held his breath as the glow from the torches that were mounted along the
walls reflected off the General’s eyes like the fires of Hell. He stopped in
front of Zechs and regarded him with a sour expression. Those icy blue eyes
were angry, malevolent. He was itching for someone to take his rage out on
since his betrothed had denied him of his most carnal desires and Zechs did his
best not to curl in on himself.
“They’re ready, Sir.”
Treize’s eyes slid from Zechs, over to the right and through the bars of the
cell where two young men were chained to the wall. They'd been beaten and
deprived of food and water for five days. Their crime? Trespassing.
They were caught hunting just on the outskirts of the bordering kingdom of Sai.
It was technically considered a neutral zone according to the treaty, but King
Zayeed considered anything neutral as his own. As far as he was concerned,
they'd crossed into Ghali and engaged in unlawful hunting.
They weren’t nobleman. They were dressed like peasants and after five days in
the dungeons, they smelled like peasants, too. Zechs guessed they were from one
of Sai’s several villages. Their eyes had the slant of Sai so he knew they
weren’t among the people of Ghali.
The boys looked up, glaring through bruised eyes as Treize approached the bars
and watched them. His silence typically worked as an interrogation tactic,
often frightening the prisoners into talking before he even said a word. It was
the eyes, Zechs knew. They may have been sky blue in appearance, but they were
endlessly black in every other way, completely void of humanity. Those eyes
were legendary. Some said when you looked into them, you could see the Devil
himself.
Zechs had never tried to look that deeply, usually averting his eyes out of
respect, fear, but he believed it. Oh, yes, he believed it. 
The usual tactic of staring them down didn’t seem to be working. The boys
looked unafraid, much as they had during their interrogation. They didn’t
scream, whimper, or even cry as they were struck with heavy branches and
pummeled with fists and steel-tipped boots. They didn’t beg for food, or water.
They took it all in silent defiance. Zechs had to admit he was impressed
considering these boys didn’t look any older than sixteen. Probably close to
the same age as the Prince. 
Treize emitted a small growl when his frosty glare only resulted in answering
glares from the prisoners. His lip curled up just slightly.
“What were you doing on our land?”
The boy with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes gazed at him from a face
dark with dirt and grime. He opened cracked and bleeding lips and
sneered. “What happened to your face?”
Zechs cringed inwardly as Treize snarled through gritted teeth. “I’ll ask the
questions here,” he snapped. “What were you doing on our land?”
“It isn't your land. It’s part of the neutral zone. You know that.”
Treize lifted his nose in the air and sniffed. “I know no such thing.”
The other boy spoke up, his voice gritty with dehydration. “Then ask your King.
He agreed to the treaty.”
“Under duress from your Queen. I know how you Saians work. Your brutality and
savage ways -”
“The only brutality here is yours!” The black-haired boy shouted. The other one
stilled him with a calm hand on his knee. 
“We were hunting. Nothing more.”
“You were in our zone, plotting to kill our King.”
The blue-eyed boy’s brows lowered in anger. They were being set up to fall and
the ground for which they were about to be dropped was spiked with iron. He
clamped his lips shut, jaw twitching.
The other was furious as he spit through clenched teeth. Black strands of hair
had come loose from the tie at the back of his head and stuck to the blood on
his face, “We were doing no such thing!”
“Can you prove you weren’t out to infiltrate our castle and assassinate our
King?”
“You know we can’t prove something we weren’t doing!”
“It’s a pity then, isn’t it?” Treize turned slowly, presenting them with his
back as he stepped towards Zechs. He leaned in, speaking to his Lieutenant as
though in confidence, but his voice was deliberately loud enough to be heard by
the prisoners. “Send a messenger out to Sai and tell them we have two of their
people. Tell them...” He paused and turned his head to look over his shoulder
at the boys, a malicious smile pulling up one side of his mouth. “Tell them
they are to be put on trial for plotting to assassinate the King of Ghali.”
The black haired boy struggled against his chains, spitting rage. “We did no
such thing and you know it!”
Zechs was hesitant, everything about this was terribly wrong. “Sir? They’re
just boys -”
“Dangerous boys, obviously. Do I detect some...reticence from you, Lieutenant?”
His voice was deceptively mild. The eyes flashed and Zechs swallowed down his
fear, pulse pounding. It would do to not speak out of turn, or his head would
roll and he much preferred it on his shoulders. Treason was thrown around as
commonly as theft and it was punishable by torture and death by beheading. 
“No, Sir.”
“Good. Because that would be a shame.” He lifted his head until he was looking
down his nose at Zechs and he couldn’t help but stare at the angry gashes that
lined the General's aristocratic face. It gave him a hard, rugged edge and
emphasized the sadistic air that hung about him like a dark cloud. The Prince
had done quite a number on him. “I want to be sure I can trust my men. If I
cannot trust you, it would not bode well for you, or your...family.”
You bastard! “I know, Sir. I am sorry I made you doubt. My loyalty to you and
the King is tried and true.”
“See that it remains that way.” The barbarous eyes lingered on him, glinting in
the low light. Danger in every hard edge of his body. Zechs gulped and nodded
once. Treize walked back down the corridor he'd come from, his voice fading
with every step. "Have the prisoners bathed and prepared for trial. They smell
like dead curs."
He disappeared around the corner and Zechs felt the tension leave his body the
further away the General got. He blew out a long, soft breath, shoulders
sagging. That was close. He was going to have to work harder to control his
traitorous, impulsive emotions. He turned his head at the rustle of chains as
the prisoners shifted in their spots. They had no pallets, no cushioning from
the stone floor and were shackled so tightly to the wall, they weren't able to
move very far, much less lie down to sleep. Zechs felt a twinge of guilt. They
were just boys. They really hadn't done anything wrong and now they were being
charged with one of the worst crimes imaginable. Within two days, they would
probably be hanging by a noose in the town square. The King's Court Marshal was
not known for being fair, or objective.
There was also the issue that this incident would anger the ruler of Sai. It
wasn't a matter of possibility. It was a given. They'd been existing next to
each other, not in peace, but in a virtual stalemate. Tensions between the two
kingdoms were high as King Zayeed's border seemed to constantly expand,
encompassing more and more neutral territory, despite the treaty that had been
written up and signed by both rulers. They'd been receiving warnings from Queen
Une to stay on their own side of the border, but the King's men, led by Treize,
were steadily encroaching on what was strictly known to be Sai's territory.
They were getting far too close to the outlying villages of Long and Syun and
the people were getting frightened. Many of them already fleeing their homes to
take refuge in the interior areas of Sai.
Now, they'd captured two of their own. The Queen would not take this news well
and it could possibly be considered an act of war on the kingdom of Sai. Zechs
highly doubted she would buy the story that these two kids had sneaked into
Ghali to kill their King. Things were about to get very ugly, most probably
bloody. If the Saians weren't already arming themselves and preparing to defend
their land, they would be after this.
"Hey," a croaky whisper jarred him out of his musings and he glanced at the
prisoners with a raised brow. 
The brown haired boy was speaking to him. Those blue eyes were sharp,
observant, and Zechs had the uncanny feeling that this boy could see right
through him, could see into his soul. He felt laid bare, gutted and flayed like
a fish. He shivered involuntarily and then straightened his back, his platinum
brows lowering severely over his eyes. 
"What?" He barked. Though he knew it was too late. This boy had seen his
momentary weakness. He was vulnerable despite being the one outside the bars. 
"I know you don't want to do this."
Damn. Zechs lifted his chin and stared the boy down even though his pounding
heart was shooting adrenaline all throughout his body. He tried for a sneer.
"What would make you think that?"
The boy fixed him with a knowing look, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in
the grime of his face. "Because I can see it in you. You know this is wrong.
You know we did nothing wrong. Let us go. Let us go and we'll never have to see
each other again."
Zechs laughed on impulse. This was preposterous! Who did this kid think he was?
"Are you mad? Why in the seven Hells would I do that?"
"Oh, forget it about it, Heero," the other boy snapped. "He's not going to let
us go." He slouched against the wall and sulked, rubbing his fingers together
to force circulation into them as his hands hung on either side of his head. 
But the blue-eyed boy, Heero, was staring at him with eyes that belied his
intelligence. His gaze never wavered. Zechs was impressed by his
perceptiveness, but he was not about to risk his own livelihood, his family, by
letting them go, even though his mind was furiously scolding him for refusing
to do the right thing. He scoffed. "I have no intention of letting you go. By
sunrise, you will face a judge. The servants will clean and dress you for your
trial." With a final curl of his lip, he said, "Sleep well," and turned on his
heel with a dramatic swing of his cape and stalked down the hall, internally
berating himself. 
You fool! You are as bad as the General. You are worse than him. Because
youknowthis is wrong!
There's nothing I can do. It's out of my hands. They are only peasants. I have
my wife and unborn child to think about. 
Your wife and unborn child could be placed in even more danger if war comes to
pass.
My wife and child would face death right alongside me by the hand of Treize for
my treachery!
You know it's wrong. You know it is.
Zechs tamped down on that inner voice and shooed it away. He strode through the
corridors after summoning a messenger and sent servants down to prepare the
prisoners for trial. He moved with purpose, desperate to see his wife. He
needed her. Needed her to tell him he was doing the right thing. For their
family, for their people. Needed her soft curves and gentle touch to soothe
away his doubts. No, he would not let any harm come to them.
I'm sorry, boys. I have my family to protect. I have no choice. I will do what
must be done.
Then I hope this haunts you for the rest of your life.
He passed by the Prince on the way to his chambers and paused mid-step as the
blond head turned, aquamarine gaze focusing on him. 
Quatre was standing near the entrance to the courtyard, the long gauzy material
of his tunica billowing in the gentle breeze, exposing a fleeting glimpse of
smooth, slender legs. He was illuminated by the sunlight that streamed in
through the threshold, giving the appearance that he was glowing, glinting off
the silver of his belt and the tiny, jeweled circlet that rested on his blond
curls and Zechs' breath hitched in his throat. There was a reason the boy was
highly sought after by the noblemen of the kingdom, courted by numerous suitors
before his father had offered his hand to Treize who had been his most zealous
pursuer. Zechs could easily understand why. He was beautiful, fair, almost
feminine in appearance. His body was petite, seemingly delicate, though Zechs
knew looks were deceiving. Prince Quatre was a little spitfire when it came
right down to it and Zechs wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd raked up
the General's face.
He didn't miss the blotch of red on one soft, cherubic cheek and made the
likely assumption that the boy had been struck by the General for his
'insolence'. He couldn't help but grind his teeth in anger. The kid didn't
deserve this. To be thrust into an engagement at such a young age for the price
of a secure border. He'd been nothing but a commodity to his father, a
bargaining chip. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Quatre and
the knowledge that he would only be able to ward off Treize's advances for so
long before he lost the battle made Zechs sick to his stomach.
The two observed each other in silence and Zechs was rooted to the floor as the
boy looked him over with a critical eye. Quatre knew full well what went on in
the dungeons and he was wholeheartedly against it, quite vocal in his
opposition. He'd often gotten himself in hot water with his father for sneaking
down there to offer the prisoners food, water, blankets, and other small
comforts. He was an empathetic type, so different from his father's apathy. He
was caring, compassionate. He stood up for what was right no matter the cost to
himself and Zechs flushed with shame in his presence. He would never be as
strong as this young man. His own principles not enough for him to put his neck
on the line.
Quatre's chin lifted, his eyes like flint, and Zechs allowed himself to be
judged. He glanced over to the tall young man beside him. Trowa was Quatre's
personal servant and bodyguard and rarely left his Prince's side. Zechs
realized the irony that the one Quatre needed protection from the most was
someone Trowa couldn't defend him against. Still, he was fiercely loyal and
Zechs often wondered if there wasn't something more going on between them. But
that was neither here, nor there. It was none of his business. 
He dipped his head in a gesture of respect, eyes lowering to the floor. "Your
Highness," he murmured.
Quatre said nothing, just kept staring at Zechs as if he was nothing but a fly
on the wall, his eyes cold with accusation. Finally, he turned away and stepped
into the courtyard, Trowa obediently following. Dismissed, Zechs continued on
to his own chambers, feeling lower than a filthy dog. Lucrezia greeted him with
open arms and he sunk to his knees in worship, pressing his face into her
prominent belly, feeling the miracle of life move against his cheek, absolved
of his sins, at least for the moment.
"Darling," Lucrezia whispered, stroking his hair. "What is it? What's troubling
you?"
He buried his face into her lap and sighed. "Everything."
***** Betrothed *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter contains attempted rape.
Quatre stepped out into the castle courtyard and lifted his face into the warm
rays of sun. His bruising cheek burned slightly in the heat and he blew out a
breath of irritation. Treize had hit him hard enough to rattle his teeth and
leave him dazed. Trowa had found him early that morning, stunned on the floor,
his nightclothes torn.
He'd been cosseted in his own chambers by the General, his betrothed, though he
was loathe to think of him as that. Quatre had been woken up, taken by
surprise, and was in no mood to deal with Treize. He hadn't even had time to
change and he blushed and tried to hide his body with little success in the
flimsy nightshirt he was wearing. Treize casually wandered about the room,
examining heirlooms and knick knacks as he told Quatre about their advancement
into the neutral territories between Ghali and Sai.
Quatre was furious about the development as said as much.
"You have no right to do this."
Treize merely raised a brow at him, absently stroking a jade statue, running
his thumbs along the sharp edges. He set it back down on the mantle. "Don't
we?"
"You want to start a war?"
"You're father -"
"My father is a fool and a megalomaniac. He won't be happy until he's conquered
Sai and all the other surrounding territories. And you are all blindly
following him, doing his bidding like a bunch of mindless sycophants." Quatre
crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't hide his disgust and he didn't try
to.
Treize sidled closer. His hand closing around an ebony bedpost. His voice was
smooth, calm, slick like grease. "It is essential for the prosperity of Ghali."
"Ghali is already prosperous! We are doing quite well. There is no purpose for
this other than power-hungry tyranny -"
"Sai is a threat to the kingdom."
Quatre snorted. "Sai is a threat to my father and for good reason. Why
shouldn't they be? He's trying to invade them."
"Ghali's sovereignty is at stake -"
"Only because my father thinks conquering land that is not his is -"
"Be that as it may, you do not know the Saians like I do. You have never come
in contact with one. They are a ruthless, savage race. Blood-thirsty,
uneducated brutes. Infidels, the whole lot of them. If we do not come for them,
they will come for us. Is that what you want?"
Quatre hesitated. No, of course it wasn't what he wanted. As the heir to the
throne, his first priority was to the people of Ghali. To see to it that they
flourished, were healthy and happy, and were protected from subjugation by
outside forces who sought to harm them. He didn't know if what Treize said
about the Saians was true. He'd never met one, though the general consensus
among Ghali reflected that interpretation.
Treize stepped closer, cautiously, like he was approaching a wild animal.
"Leave it to me to tell you that I know what's right for Ghali. I know what it
takes to protect your father, protect you, as is my duty. We must act to
preserve our way of life before it is taken from us."
"But...the treaty -"
"The treaty is only useful until a threat is made upon our monarchy."
Quatre narrowed his eyes, shooting the General a suspicious look. This was new.
"Whose threat?"
"Didn't your father tell you? The Queen of Sai wishes to absolve your father,
and you I might add, from your positions. Wishes to take dominion from us, to
raze our land, liquidate our assets, and enslave our people."
Quatre shook his head. He couldn't believe that. "No. You are lying."
Treize shrugged, unperturbed. "Ask your father."
"Why should I believe him? Or you?"
"Because we've been out there." He stood only several inches away from Quatre
now, gazing down at him with an expression that left him feeling confused,
uneasy. "We know what it's like. You have been sheltered, my Prince. Your
father and his men have protected you from the cruelty of the outside world so
that you would not have to suffer. But we've seen it all. We're doing what we
must do to protect Ghali and while I admire your principles, I must inform you
that you are misguided in your understanding of the reality of the world we
live in."
Quatre hated to admit it, but that much was true. He had been sheltered. Never
allowed to cross the borders of Ghali as it was far too dangerous. He knew he'd
lost the argument. He had no standing against someone who'd been out there, in
the outside world. Someone who'd had to sacrifice to protect his people. He
straightened his shoulders and changed the subject.
"I hear you have two boys in the dungeons. No older than me."
Treize's head dipped once in acknowledgment. 
"Why?"
"For plotting to kill your father."
Quatre stared at him, astounded. "Why would a couple of peasants wish to kill
my father?"
Treize's shoulders lifted. "My instincts tell me they were ordered to by the
Queen."
"Are your instincts ever wrong?"
Treize's lips curled up and he stepped closer. Nearly up against him, their
chests just barely touching. Quatre cursed internally as his back hit the wall.
He glanced down to see Treize's hand lift and he shivered in revulsion as that
hand, that hand that had killed who knew how many, rested on his waist. Treize
leaned down until his nose brushed against the soft tufts of Quatre's bangs,
still messy from sleep. Could hear the whistling of his nose as Treize inhaled
his scent. Quatre closed his eyes as he felt the hand on his waist curl around
the small of his back, the strong arm pulling him in against a broad chest. He
looked up and tried not to cringe at the covetous look in Treize's eyes as he
stared down at him. 
His other hand rose up and cupped the boy's cheek, his thumb caressing the soft
skin, and it took all of Quatre's willpower not to pull away. Treize's voice
was a breathy whisper when he said, "Why do you hate me so?"
Quatre's eyes hardened. "Because you're a cruel, evil tyrant -" He was
interrupted as Treize threw his head back and laughed. He gazed down at the
Prince in his arms, eyes sparkling in amusement and Quatre felt his hackles
rise at the patronizing look. The General lowered his head until his lips
rested just over Quatre's, lightly grazing against his mouth and Quatre's heart
jack rabbited in his chest, deeply conflicted. Treize swiftly captured the
blond's mouth in an arduous kiss, moaning in bliss at the boy's sweet taste,
his tongue forcing its way between Quatre's lips.
Quatre pulled his face away, not ready for this, not wanting it. He shuddered
as the slightly chapped lips trailed down over his cheek, nipping his jaw,
descending to his neck, and sucked a mark into his pulse point. He pressed his
hands against the General's chest, trying to push out of the embrace. Treize
grunted and pulled him closer, his arms like a vice around his waist.
Quatre gasped at the almost erotic sensation as Treize's mouth suckled at his
throat. "Let me go. I don't want this."
"Just let me...I can make you want it. Want it as bad as I want you...Your High
- Quatre, my beloved...let me make love to you," Treize rasped against the damp
skin of his neck between kisses and nips of his teeth, his voice gravelly with
arousal. His large hands traveled down to cup pert buttocks, squeezing them,
fingers digging in almost painfully. Quatre struggled even harder, the fabric
of his nightshirt tearing in the process.
"I said no!" Treize cursed as a small fist struck the side of his head and he
momentarily lost his grip. Quatre used the opportunity to wiggle out of his
grasp and ducked to the side where he could make a break for the door. He was
only able to swing it open before he was grabbed from behind and slammed
against the wall again and he shouted in indignant rage as the groping hands
touched him in places that made his skin crawl. Treize pressed up against him,
so tightly he could barely breathe, smothered between the General and the wall.
He felt those hands slide down the backs of his thighs, clutching hard enough
to bruise as he wrenched them open, lifting the boy off the floor. Treize
shoved his hips between the shaking legs, growling, his teeth clamping around
the boy's shoulder. His hands slid up under the thin material of Quatre's
nightshirt, rucking it up around his waist, and stroked along his bare ass. His
calloused fingers delved in between, seeking the opening he so desperately
wished to plunder.
Quatre screamed as he was penetrated by an invading digit and did the only
thing he could do in a desperate attempt to stop the impending rape. His
fingers curled in and he swiped them along the side of the General's face, hard
enough to draw blood. Treize shouted and dropped him to the floor, clutching
his cheek. Quatre closed his hands over the man's shoulders and brought his
knee up right into the General's groin. Treize roared in pain and outrage,
stumbling on suddenly weak legs. On reflex, his arm swung out and his hand
connected with Quatre's cheek hard enough to knock him over. He spilled onto
the floor, stunned from the blow, the torn neckline of his nightshirt slipping
down over his shoulder.
He pressed his hand against the side of his face and looked up in fear as
Treize stood over him. The General's nostrils flared in anger, his hands
curling into fists and Quatre feared he would be struck again. He flinched,
wanting so badly to call for Trowa, though he knew his friend and confidant
could do nothing. 
"You -" Treize growled, his eyes nearly red with rage. The gashes on his face
bled profusely and it gave him a murderous appearance. "How dare you? You are
my betrothed! You are obligated to give yourself to me whenever I wish it. You
have no right to deny me!"
Quatre glared up at him, defiant as ever. "We are not wed yet."
Treize's hand shot out, quick as lightening and wrapped around his throat.
Quatre gasped and choked as he was lifted off the floor, feet kicking uselessly
against the man's shins. Treize yanked him forward and pressed his snarling
face against the boy's cheek. "You really think that matters, love? You are
mine. You were given to me by your father in return for my services and come
Hell, or high water, I will have you. I'd suggest you start accepting that for
your own well-being. I can either make it really good for you, or I can make it
a dreadful experience. It's your choice."
He was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor and he curled up as small as he
could as Treize turned and stalked from the room. He was shaking terribly and
he cursed his father to the deepest levels of Hell for forcing him into this.
"Quat?" Trowa rushed in as soon as Treize was gone, having watched the scene
unfold through the crack in his adjoining door, and gathered him into strong
arms, nearly weeping with rage.
"I'm okay, Trowa," Quatre soothed, stroking his servant's hair. Trowa clutched
him close and pressed his face into his belly, lamenting his inability to
intervene.
"I want to kill him. I want to spill his blood all over the floor and I want it
to stain the stone so that it may never come out -"
"Ssh, Trowa. You can't talk like that." Quatre quickly hushed him. That kind of
talk could get him in trouble. They could take Trowa away from him, execute him
for treason. He'd be powerless to stop it and then he'd be alone.
"I can't help it. What good am I to you if I can't protect you from him?"
"You know I don't want you trying anything." Quatre pulled his head up and
gazed into sorrowful green eyes. Such beautiful, soulful eyes. He kissed
Trowa's forehead and dried his tears with his thumbs. "It's too dangerous for
you. I don't want to lose you. You're the only friend I have. If I lose you, it
would kill me, you understand?"
"This is killing me! What he's doing to you. What he's going to do to you. Oh,
God, Quat!"
"It's none of your concern."
"Quat -"
"No." Quatre's voice took on his formal tinder. It was the voice of the Prince,
the heir, laden with authority. He hated using it on Trowa, but this was of the
utmost importance. "What happens between the General and I does not involve
you. Do you hear me? You let me worry about that."
"But, he's going to hurt you!"
"It's not your concern."
The tone of Quatre's voice was enough to quiet him. He may have been the
Prince's protector, but he was also a servant and his job was to obey his
Master. He sniffled into the fabric of Quatre's nightshirt, though he couldn't
help but ask. "What are you going to do?"
Quatre brushed the long locks of hair away from Trowa's forehead. "I don't
know, but I have to think of something."
 
***
 
Quatre stormed into his father's chambers without bothering to knock. Zayeed
paused in his conversation with his adviser and fixed his son with a glare. 
"What have I told you about that?"
Quatre didn't answer him. He directed his attention to the adviser, looking
down his nose at him. He was a sniveling little weasel who never failed to leer
at Quatre whenever he thought he could get away with it. He was underhanded,
slippery as an eel, and he never failed to give Quatre the creeps. "Get out,"
he snapped at the man.
Zayeed glanced at his adviser, an apologetic look on his face. "Quinze, if
you'll excuse us..." Quinze's beady eyes flashed as they focused on Quatre and
Quatre's lip curled in a condescending sneer. Quinze spun on his heel and left
the room, closing the double doors behind him. Quatre turned to his father,
breathing heavily, heart pounding with anger. 
Zayeed raised a brow at him, his eyes focusing on the blooming patch of red on
his cheek. "What happened to your face?"
"What do you think happened?" Quatre snarled. "You think you can muzzle your
dog until the wedding night at least? Can I have that much?"
"Ah," Zayeed turned and stepped over to his desk, rifling though a few scrolls
of parchment. "I see the General is a little...eager," he said mildly.
Quatre nearly spat in rage. "Eager?! He tried to rape me!"
"Quatre. You are his betrothed. It's your duty to -"
"It's not my duty. I am allowed to have my own autonomy."
"No, you really aren't." 
Quatre sputtered. "What?"
"You are his. He has a right to your body whenever and however he sees fit. It
is your duty to please him. Why must you make this harder for everyone?
Including yourself?"
"I'm the heir to the throne, not a concubine!"
"You are the promised one. When it comes to relationships, we have duties to
our spouses and some of those include pleasing them sexually."
"Did you do that to Mother?"
Zayeed turned a vicious glare on him. "Don't you dare speak of your mother that
way!"
"It's a valid question considering you seem to think it's okay to rape your
spouse."
"It's not rape, it's your duty!"
"I hate you!" Quatre screamed, unable to control the impotent rage that boiled
up and spilled over. It was gone as quickly as it came and he was left feeling
weak and helpless, his arms falling uselessly to his sides. "I hate that you
did this to me! Why did you do this to me?"
"Quatre. It is essential that our kingdom is protected by the best. He is the
best. In order to receive his promise to keep us safe from harm, I had to offer
him something of value."
"Our vast collection of gold coins and jewels wasn't good enough?"
Zayeed glanced away, unable to look his son in the eyes. "He wanted you. He
wouldn't settle for anything less."
"Well, that's wonderful. Terrific. So you just hand over your only son to be
ravaged by that - that beast because you're a coward."
Zayeed strode towards him, eyes alight with anger. He pointed a finger in
Quatre's face. "You will not speak to me that way. I am not one of your
servants. I am the King of Ghali and I am your father. Youwill respect me."
Quatre shook his head. Any and all respect for his father died a long time ago.
His voice was dull, devoid of emotion when he said, "You are not my father.
Fathers do not give their children away to be enslaved. They protect their
children. You are no father to me. You never were." He turned on his heel and
walked out of the room, ignoring his father's shouts. 
"Don't you walk away from me, Quatre. Quatre!"
Trowa was waiting for him outside the King's suite and fell into step alongside
him as Quatre stomped away in fury. 
"I take it it didn't go well?"
"I'm not getting any help from him, that's for sure. Oh, what was I thinking?
He's the one that promised me to him. I don't know why I ever thought he'd try
to help me."
"It's only natural for a son to seek his father's protection."
"It seems no one is able to help me, no one is willing to put a stop to this -"
"I am." Quatre caught Trowa's intense look. It was desperate, imploring him to
let him do something, anything. He glared at his servant, expression making
clear that that would never happen.
"With the exception of you," he said firmly. He softened at Trowa's despondent
expression and sighed. "I'm going to be that man's husband soon and I'm going
to have to give myself to him. God, Trowa! How did I end up in this
predicament?" 
Trowa said nothing. Simply followed his Master out to the courtyard.
Quatre stood in the threshold and let the breeze cool him down. He didn't need
to say anything. Trowa knew Quatre like the back of his hand. He knew when his
Prince wanted to talk and when he didn't. Quatre turned at the sound of
footsteps and his eyes landed on the General's Lieutenant. He lifted his chin
as he watched the handsome man pause and the two stared each other down.
Zechs was a man of principle, but he did the General's bidding despite his
sometimes obvious misgivings. Quatre wasn't sure if the Lieutenant realized
just how much his face, his eyes, gave away. He probably wasn't even aware of
it. Quatre immediately knew he'd been down in the dungeons, hurting those boys.
Not because he wanted to, but because he was ordered to. The guilt was all over
his face.
Quatre understood that he had a wife and a child on the way and he was only
thinking about them. He knew full well what Treize would do to them if Zechs
defied him. He couldn't blame him for wanting to protect his family, but it
still didn't quell the bitterness he felt that if people around here simple
stood up to him. Stood up to his father, that things could change for the
better. He didn't believe for one second that those boys down in the dungeons
were plotting to kill his father. He knew the most likely scenario was that
they'd been picked up in the neutral zone, probably while they were hunting. 
This situation was just more of the same. His father and his men seizing more
power and control of the land surrounding them. Maybe he was misguided. Naivé
even. But he didn't buy Treize's story. Not one little bit.
The Lieutenant bowed his head, uttered a soft, "Your Highness." Quatre watched
him for another moment before turning away and stepping into the courtyard.
Trowa following him as he always did. As he always would. Quatre sighed and
lifted his face to the sun. Perhaps it was time to pay those boys a visit.
***** Gala *****
The gala that night was just one of the many that Quatre was forced to attend,
though he much preferred to sit in front of a roaring fire and read to Trowa.
It was simply a pompous way for Ghali to show off its fortunes and its prowess
in the region. To celebrate and talk about how wonderful they all were. 
It made him sick.
But, being the Price of Ghali required him to be there. And as such, that meant
spending the remainder of the day primping and primming for the gathering. He
soaked in a warm tub with scented oils as his skin was exfoliated with rough
stones. Trowa always treated these pre-gala rituals with reverence, handling
Quatre as though he were made of glass. Quatre smiled warmly at him as the
servant lifted a perfumed hand and gently rubbed the skin until the dead cells
were removed and the fresh glowing layers beneath were revealed. His eyes were
wide, devout, as he cleaned the Prince and Quatre shook his head fondly.
"What would I do without you?"
Trowa chuckled. "You would do just fine."
"No." He lifted his hand and lightly grasped a lock of hair and tucked it
behind his servant's ear. "I would surely wither and die."
"You are strong, my Prince. Much stronger than you give yourself credit for."
"I don't feel strong." Quatre shook his head as he rose from the tub with
Trowa's help and allowed himself to be draped with the drying cloth. "Sometimes
I just wish I could give all this up. Live a simple life in a cottage
somewhere, surrounded by animals. No stuffy parties, no betrothals, maybe own a
farm."
Trowa laughed. "You? A farmer?"
Quatre swatted him playfully. "It could happen! Okay, maybe I wasn't built for
farming, but it would sure be better than this." He stood still as Trowa patted
him dry and removed the cloth. He could smell the sweet scent of roses wafting
off his skin from the perfumed oils and his nose wrinkled. Treize loved the
scent and 'ordered' him to use it for the gala. Quatre used to love it, too,
until he began associating it with the General. He stepped over to the small
platform that stood in front of a full-length mirror and looked his body over
with a critical eye.
He was slender, almost curvy, which he supposed was what men were so often
drawn to. He glanced behind him, his eyes taking in Trowa's form. His servant's
body was much more 'manly'. Tall, with broad shoulders and thick biceps. His
chest and abdomen were deliciously rippled with muscle, brimming with strength
which tapered down into a narrow waist. He had the body of a warrior which made
sense since that was what his people were. 
Trowa was taken along a with a group of other young boys and girls when their
village was raided by Ghalian forces. They were brought back to the kingdom and
raised to become Ghalian warriors due to their naturally powerful physiques and
ingrained fighting skills. But the army soon figured out there was a problem
with Trowa. A birth defect. The King's physicians diagnosed him with a weak
heart. It was far too risky, not to mention unbecoming to the army, to have
someone with such a health problem. They decided he was obsolete. Of no use to
the Ghalians if he couldn't fight. 
Quatre had seen him while the boy was being examined, peeking through the crack
in the door, shocked as he heard the prognosis and furious with what they were
going to do to him. His heart had broken from the lassitude he'd seen in the
boy's face. He seemed to accept his fate. His eyes so sad. Quatre had run into
the room and launched himself on top of the boy, screaming that they couldn't
kill him. That he would take care of him. He begged his father, tears in his
eyes, to allow the boy to live.
His father thankfully relented. "He's your responsibility, Quatre. If he steps
out of line, that's it."
Quatre was eternally grateful as he led the boy away. He looped their arms
together as Quatre showed him the castle. He'd confiscated the empty suite of
rooms next to his own and proudly announced them to be Trowa's new chambers. 
It took a long time to bring the boy out of his shell, but Quatre never gave up
on him. Eventually, Trowa came around and the two began a tentative friendship.
With time and patience, they grew closer and closer until they were nearly
inseparable. Trowa idolized the Prince, loved him like he'd never loved anyone,
and devoted every aspect of his life to him. He was the Prince's constant
companion and best friend. Trowa knew things about Quatre that no one else
would ever be privvy to. He'd seen him in his most vulnerable moments, moments
that Quatre never allowed anyone else to see. Their love for each other was
unconditional. 
Quatre extended his arms out to his side as the pale green and ivory silk and
muslin fabrics were draped elegantly over his body. The formal dress extended
down the back and trailed a few feet behind him. Quatre hated it because he was
always tripping over the damned thing. Trowa stood behind him and adjusted the
tunica until it laid perfectly over his body. Quatre admired him through the
mirror, took in the intense concentration in the beautiful green eyes and
chuckled.
"I think you enjoy these events far more than I do."
Trowa's mouth curled up as he fastened delicate chains of gold and turquoise
around the Prince's neck. "I just enjoy the preparation."
Quatre smiled. He did, too. These moments were always filled with such
intimacy, such closeness. Quatre turned to him, looking up into the handsome
face as Trowa fluffed his hair and arranged his curls around his forehead and
ears, then reached down for the gold circlet, embedded with emeralds and
amethysts and placed it on top of his head. As a final touch, he dipped his
fingers into the pot of scented oil, warmed by a candle, and dabbed the
fragrance onto Quatre's wrists and over the pulse points of his neck. Then he
stepped back to admire his work.
Quatre flushed prettily as he was examined with a critical eye. "Am I
sufficient?"
Trowa's eyes softened and Quatre didn't miss the hunger in those green depths.
"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," he whispered, awe in his
breath.
Quatre shot him a derisive look. "Flatterer." He turned back around to look at
himself. He knew what people said of him. Of his appearance, his desirability,
especially to the male population of Ghali. Men from all over the kingdom
tripped over themselves just to be near him. When the announcement was made
that Quatre must become engaged, the kingdom erupted in a flurry of chaos, many
of the men desperate to be the one who was chosen as the Prince's betrothed.
They competed for his hand, oftentimes becoming violent as they vied for
possession of not only him, but for the chance to rule Ghali.
His father eventually chose General Treize since he was the strongest of
Quatre's competitors, the most powerful man in the kingdom. An alpha through
and through. He was the one with the best chance of leading Ghali to victory
time and time again and he was the one who fought the hardest, the bloodiest,
for Quatre's hand. It hadn't been beneath him to thrust one of his blades deep
within the chest of his most viable rivals. He'd done it a few times when they
got far too close to winning the prize. Quatre could barely stomach it. Being
fought over like a piece of rare meat between rabid dogs and he'd made his
distaste evident.
At any rate, Treize would be happy with his appearance, not that Quatre cared.
He turned from the mirror and adjusted Trowa's tunic around the muscled
shoulders, his hands lingering over the smooth skin. He smiled up at him.
"You're not so bad yourself." He winked a turquoise eye and laughed under his
breath when Trowa blushed. He caressed his servant's face, stroking over the
fine structure and Trowa gazed down at him, his eyes so warm with affection and
gleaming with desire. Quatre's breath hitched at the heady look, his groin
twitching at the hunger in those eyes. 
They'd been making love for nearly six months. The first time had been right
after Quatre's engagement to Treize had been announced. He was so distraught
and it had just happened. He wept beneath his servant's powerful body as he was
taken to heights of sensation he'd never felt before. He wondered if he'd be
able to continue the relationship once he was married. It wouldn't be easy, but
he was determined to have at least some semblance of control over his body,
even once he began submitting to his betrothed. 
He wasn't looking forward to that, to say the least, but in a sense, his father
was right. He only grudgingly admitted that. As the Prince of Ghali, he had
obligations to his people and this was one of them. To enter into an agreement,
a union that would strengthen the monarchy, which in turn, would strengthen the
kingdom. Treize was the most qualified to keep their people safe. He was the
best of the best. It was only natural that he would rule right alongside him.
Being difficult for his own selfish reasons would only serve to hurt his people
in the long run. He had duties and he would uphold them, even if it wasn't
something he wanted.
The only thing he asked was to be left alone until the wedding night. To allow
him these final weeks of 'freedom' before he gave himself to his new husband.
But it seemed Treize was not willing to wait. 
He glanced up at Trowa as those strong arms encircled his waist and pulled him
into that beautifully powerful chest and his body flushed with arousal. He
leaned up on his toes and brushed their lips together, his tongue swiping
lightly against those lovely lips, whispering heatedly into his mouth. "We've
got time."
Trowa groaned and reached down to grasp the back of Quatre's thighs and Quatre
wrapped his legs around his servant's waist as he was lifted up and carried to
the dressing table. Trowa sat him down on the edge and pressed into the
welcoming space between his Prince's legs. Quatre surged up and kissed him
deeply as Trowa parted the folds of his tunica. Quatre's hands shook as he
unbuckled the belts of Trowa's trousers, shivering in delight as his servant's
erection was bared, pressing incessantly against his most intimate place. They
used some of the scented oil to lubricate the way and Quatre threw his head
back and wrapped himself around his lover as Trowa plunged deliciously into his
depths.
 
***
 
As required, Quatre had to spend the evening attached to the General's side,
forcing smiles and cheerful conversation while on the inside, he was cringing
with antipathy. Treize never allowed him to stray very far and he had to endure
the possessive hands as he kept his arm tightly wound around the Prince's
waist. He was mandated to offer his lips for kisses, tying not to wince as
their guests doted over them.
Treize brought him a cup of wine and slid his hand onto the small of Quatre's
back, husking against his neck. "Mmm...you look and smell good enough to eat."
He punctuated the 'compliment' with a nip to his skin and Quatre involuntarily
pulled away, then caught himself and covered it up with well-practiced smile. 
"Thank you, Darling."
"Your betrothed is right, Your Highness. You look positively radiant tonight,
as always," simpered one of his father's military advisers. He was a tall,
scrawny man with a balding head and had a penchant for dousing himself with too
much sandalwood oil. Quatre played the part of the modest, charming Prince and
blushed as he smiled at the man while his belly curdled with revulsion.
"Why, thank you, Admiral Barton. I do hope your wife is doing well." Quatre
noticed she hadn't attended and was a little concerned for her welfare.
"She is quite fine, Your Highness. Just a little under the weather at the
moment."
"Well, I do hope she recovers quickly. She is quite a woman." Quatre actually
liked her. How she could stand being married to that man was beyond him. 
The wine was making him a little loopy and the superficial small talk was
making him irritable, a strange combination that make him want to slap at
Treize's invasive hands, but was too dizzy to actually do so. When the music
began, Treize took his arm and led him out to the center of the ballroom,
expertly sweeping him across the dance floor. He was a good dancer, Quatre had
to give him that. He allowed his body to relax, to be led around as he felt the
eyes of their guests, staring in awe and fascination as their beautiful,
beloved Prince danced with his betrothed. He caught his father's eyes before he
was spun away again and didn't miss the nod. The intent in his eyes was clear.
You are doing well so far. Do not embarrass me.
Treize was humming to the music, the vibration tickling Quatre's ear. "We'll be
wed in a few weeks," he murmured.
Don't remind me. "Yes, we will."
"I can make you happy. If you'll let me."
"I highly doubt that."
Treize chuckled and it rankled Quatre's nerves. "Must you doubt me? I only want
what's best for you."
"No, you want what's best for yourself. You don't care about me. You care about
the throne. You will not fool me with pretty words."
"Don't you realize how long I've wanted you?"
"Lust and love are two different things. You may want me, but you do not love
me. If you did, you would respect my wishes to wait until the wedding night to
consummate this arrangement."
"What difference does it make if it's now, or a few weeks from now?"
"It makes all the difference to me."
Treize swung him again, then leaned forward, lowering Quatre into a dip and
their audience cooed. Quatre's stomach flipped queasily and his head spun as he
was righted again, nearly stumbling on feet unsteady with wine. Treize smoothly
covered it up with another spin and Quatre was reluctantly grateful. 
"By the way. I know what is going on between you and your servant. Once we are
wed, you will no longer be providing him with your...affections."
Quatre's heart skipped and he frowned at the General. "You have no say in
that."
The arm around his waist tightened possessively. "I am granting you this right
now, but when I am your husband, I will not allow it. I will kill any man who
lays a finger on you."
Quatre closed his eyes, dread encasing him in a cold chill. "Please don't hurt
him. He's all I have and I -"
"You love him."
Quatre didn't answer. Of course he loved him. Trowa was the one who'd been
there for him when no one else was. "Please. Please don't hurt him. I beg of
you."
"Then do not let him make love to you after the wedding. You will give yourself
to me and me only."
He said nothing. He had no intention of cutting off his relationship with
Trowa. They would just have to be extremely careful from now on. But he was not
going to give that up. Trowa was the only one who made him feel good, feel
beautiful. Trowa loved him, not what he could get from him.
"Do not test my hand, or my patience, Quatre. For you will find yourself
suffering greatly for it."
"You're a bastard." He sucked in a breath as Treize painfully pinched his side.
"Behave yourself and watch that mouth of yours."
Quatre clamped his lips shut with some effort and closed his eyes, listening to
the acoustic swells of the music and imagined he was dancing with Trowa. It was
something he and his servant greatly enjoyed doing together and the fantasy
allowed him to relax some more. He rested his head on the broad shoulder as he
was led this way and that, allowing his body to be maneuvered and molded in the
arms of his lover. He could feel himself getting into it, felt the music in his
blood, his heart beating in time with it. 
"There you go. That's more like it," Treize's voice lilted in his ear,
destroying any semblance of the illusion. He huffed, but kept his body pliable,
languid, and endured the rest of the night in relative silence.
The evening mercifully came to a close and Quatre was eternally grateful as he
stood next to his father and wished the last of their guests well. As the last
of them left, he turned away to head back to his chambers, exhausted and a
touch drunk.
"Quatre."
He turned to look at his father, gazing into the brown eyes expectantly, not
knowing what he was going to hear. He hoped it wasn't another lecture, or
criticism. He was pretty sure he did a good job tonight.
"You did well. Perhaps you are finally learning."
Quatre's lip curled and he pivoted on his heel without a word and left the
ballroom. Learning indeed. He didn't need the praise. It was what he'd been
trained for since birth and he knew he was good at it. Didn't enjoy it, but he
knew how to play the game. 
Treize was waiting for him out in the hallway and fell into step beside him.
Quatre groaned internally, not needing this right now. Wanting to be left alone
to go to his chambers to sleep off the wine. Treize was at least decent enough
to wait until they reached his room before he started pawing him. Quatre
studiously ignored him as he turned down his bed, but eventually he couldn't
stand the oppressive silence, the eyes he could feel burning into his back. He
turned and glared over his shoulder.
"Can I help you with something?"
Treize pushed himself away from the wall and walked towards him. He pressed the
heavy weight of his body against the boy, forcing him down onto the bed and
lowering himself on top. Quatre's breath hitched as the man's hips wormed their
way between his thighs. He placed his hands on Treize's chest and did his best
to play the blushing, coy fiancé. He didn't have the strength, or energy to
fight and he resigned himself to the very strong possibility that he was going
to be taken. 
"Please, love. Let me rest tonight. I had too much wine and I - I'm not feeling
well." He gave Treize his best sad look and tried not to shiver at the dark
gaze, the spark of lust in those blue depths unsettling. Treize dropped his
head onto Quatre's shoulder and moaned brokenly.
"You don't have to do anything," he said, a pleading edge to his voice. "Just
let me -" he pushed his hips into the space between Quatre's legs. "Let me have
you." Quatre tried one last tactic.
"I fear I might be sick. Now, that wouldn't be very romantic for our first time
together would it?"
That did the trick. Treize's head lifted, his face shadowed in disgust. Quatre
almost laughed at how easy that had been. He'd have to remember that in the
future. Treize lifted himself off of him and turned towards the door. He
murmured a, "Goodnight," and left the room and Quatre breathed a sigh of
relief. The time of his ability to postpone the inevitable was coming to a
close, but he relished in his escape for another night. He got up and padded to
the adjoining door that led to Trowa's chambers. His beloved servant was
sleeping soundly in his bed, his bare chest gleamed gold in the light of the
dying fire and Quatre climbed under the covers and snuggled up to him, needing
the safety and security of Trowa's arms. 
Even in sleep, Trowa was deeply attuned to him and his arms automatically
closed around him. Quatre rested his head on the strong chest and savored the
heavy thump of his heartbeat, hearing the occasional skip as it was wont to do
at times. He would have to get up soon. He needed to check on the prisoners,
make sure they were alright. But, for now, he was content to rest in Trowa's
arms. His fingers caressed the servant's smooth skin as his eyes drifted closed
and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Fleeting images that he wouldn't remember
in the morning flashed behind his eyelids. Visions of dark brown hair and
virulent blue eyes.
***** The Visit *****
Heero leaned against the wall of the cell, the stones cold, damp, and sharp
against his back and listened to the dripping water from a leak somewhere, and
to his friend who would not stop complaining. He closed his eyes, resigning
himself to a long-winded rant. Wufei could really get himself going sometimes,
though Heero had to concede, this was quite a mess they'd gotten themselves
into.
" - I knew we should have stayed out of the neutral zone. Knew it! But, no. You
wanted the infamously hard to kill Silver Ducks that only occupy the region
that just happens to border with Ghali. 'It'll be fine,' you said. 'Don't
worry, Wufei,' you said. Well. Now we know how right I was -"
"Shut up, Fei," Heero groaned, wanting to bang his head against the wall until
he lost consciousness. God, didn't he ever get tired?
"Now, I have to sit here, with only you and Mr. I'm-Sexy-And-I-Know-It for
company. What's the deal with that guy anyway?"
"I don't know," Heero said, exasperated. He looked down at his arms, cringing
at how filthy they were, how filthy he was. "Didn't he say someone was going to
come bathe us?" Not that he would enjoy the concept of some stranger bathing
him, but the prospect of being clean would be worth the degradation. He was
getting real tired of smelling himself and Wufei.
"Oh, and that's another thing! Now we have to be bathed like we're incapable of
doing it ourselves? I am not an invalid, Yuy -"
"I know that, Chang -"
"And I'd appreciate it if I'm going to die, that I go out in some semblance of
dignity." He moaned brokenly a moment later, head rolling on his shoulders.
"God! I'm never going to see Duo again. He doesn't even know where I am. And
it's all thanks to you." He sniffed and turned his head to the side, facing
away from Heero, in a snit now.
He felt bad about that. If they ever got out of this, Duo would be furious with
him. "I'm sorry, Wufei. We never should have gone to the neutral zone. I don't
know what I was thinking -"
"You weren't thinking, that's the problem!"
Heero turned a glare on him. "No one forced you to come with me."
Wufei scoffed. "Like I'm going to let you go into dangerous territory by
yourself." He shook his hands, rattling the chains. "Damn it. I can't feel my
arms anymore." He sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a home-cooked meal right
now. Some of Duo's curry and his special spiced cider." He closed his eyes and
moaned. "I'm so hungry, I could eat you," he muttered with a petulant flash of
dark eyes.
"Please don't. I doubt I'd taste very good anyway." He was hungry as well. So
hungry his stomach didn't even have the strength to protest anymore. How many
days had they been down there? He had no idea. Without windows, it was
impossible to tell time, or count sunrises and the guards weren't exactly
forthcoming with information. 
He thought back to that one, the Lieutenant. He'd seen the reluctance, the
reservation in his eyes when he'd come down to to punish them. Heero knew he
didn't get any enjoyment out of it, unlike some of the other guards. His guess
was that the man in charge, that sadistic son of a bitch General, was holding
something over his head, something the Lieutenant was terrified of. 
The prisoners were watched over closely as they were unchained long enough to
strip down for their bath. Thankfully, they were allowed to bathe themselves.
The servants arrived with tubs of cold water and tiny beads of soap and left
them with scratchy wool garments in a dull blue-gray, the clothing for which
they would face the Court Marshal in. At the very least, they were warm and
helped ward off the chill of the dungeon. The guards leered as they watched
them clean themselves as best they could. 
Heero ignored them, just happy to be relatively clean, but Wufei shot them
glares and stood up straight, in all his naked glory, and propped his hands on
his hips.
"See anything you like, gentlemen?"
They sneered and turned their backs, grumbling, "You wish". Once the two
prisoners were washed and dressed, they were chained back against the wall, but
were allowed a little more slack to move around and they were given what was
likely going to be their last meal. A plate of sliced apples that were browned
along the edges and stale bread along with a jug of water to share. They were
ravenous as they ate the food and drank from the jug, their stomachs rebelling
a little after going so long without sustenance. 
The guards left them alone and Wufei curled up on the floor, closing his eyes.
"You need to sleep, Yuy. We need to be sharp if we're going to have any chance
to defend ourselves tomorrow." Heero glanced down at him, noted the flicker of
trepidation in his friend's black eyes and reassured him with a nod.
"I will. Soon."
Wufei mumbled and turned onto his side with a, "Suit yourself." Heero stared at
his back as he watched his friend fall asleep, listening to the slowing of his
breath. He rested his head back against the wall, trying to come up with some
way they could get out of this. It wouldn't be easy. That General had made that
very clear. He had no idea how they were going to defend themselves against
these charges. These false charges, but it looked like it was going to be their
word over the General's. He was pretty sure how the verdict was going to go and
it would not be in their favor.
He felt bad for getting Wufei caught in all this. It really was his fault. He'd
talked him into heading down to the river banks, a narrow strip of neutral land
where a specific kind of duck liked to frequent. The Silver Duck was an elusive
species of bird. Their meat was a delicacy, partly because they were so
difficult to catch and because they were rare. He'd caught one only once before
and gave it to Duo to cook up. That boy could work miracles in the kitchen and
that had been the most amazing meal he'd ever had. 
He was grateful to have such good friends. Wufei and Duo had been together for
a couple of years, romantically, but Duo had been with them since the age of
five. He was not native to Sai. He'd been found wandering through the forests
near the ice-capped region of Borsten which was likely where he was from. He
had apparently been part of a refugee convoy on the move through the mountains
after many of the villagers fled when Ghali's forces attacked. Borsten was a
peaceful, nature-loving kingdom and they stood no chance against the militant
kingdom of Ghali. Duo was the sole survivor of the attack on his convoy and
he'd wandered for quite a distance before he was found by Sai's villagers. 
He'd been taken in by Wufei's family who lived in the village of Long. Heero
was from Syun. They were the two most outlying villages of Sai and as a result,
they were more nomadic than the other villages in the kingdom. The two
communities were very close-knit, often hunting together and sharing their
kills with each other. Heero met Wufei and Duo when their fathers got them
together to teach them how to hunt and they quickly became great friends.
Before they were twelve, the three of them were off on their own with their
bows and arrows, successfully bringing home many kills for their families.
They were also the most vulnerable villages of Sai, in part because they were
on the edge of the border with the neutral territories and because they tended
to keep to themselves. They did not get involved in the bustle of the capitol
and stayed far away from their politics. They were entirely self-sufficient.
They left the capitol alone and the capitol left them alone.
Duo had been under the weather for last few days so it had only been Heero and
Wufei hunting which he was grateful for now, glad that he didn't drag both of
his friends into this mess. He should have known better. While the neutral
zones should have been safe, he knew they weren't. With Ghali's forces
constantly breaking the rules of the treaty, the people of Sai had begun
avoiding those areas for fear of being captured, or killed. Half the people of
Long and Syun had already fled the villages for the relative safety of the
capitol where Queen Une resided with her army. 
They knew tensions were high and that their Queen was on the verge of taking
more preemptive measures to secure their borders, but the elders of Long and
Syun, set in their ways, did not want any influence from the capitol, military,
or otherwise. Wufei's father, being one of the elders, was adamantly against it
despite Wufei's attempts to convince him they needed the protection. They had
no defenses against Ghali's army. The Queen's need to protect the kingdom
eventually had to override her wishes to respect the villages' right to self-
rule. There was just no other choice. 
He finally felt his eyelids drooping and he leaned his head against the wall,
the exhaustion of the last five days finally catching up to him, especially now
that he had food in his belly and he was clean. The small comforts just enough
for him to ignore the throbbing of his bruises and to allow the drowsiness to
take over. His head lolled against his shoulder as his mind began to drift.
Images of green pastures and meadows andfreedom slipping against each other in
his mind. 
While Wufei had Duo, Heero still hadn't found anyone for whom he wished to
settle down. Despite his father constantly thrusting potential mates at him, he
just couldn't find it in himself to be interested. To want to tie himself down.
He wanted to be able to roam wherever and for however long he saw fit, without
someone waiting for him at home, worrying, and ready to tear him a new one when
he finally decided to walk through the front door. No, he much preferred being
untethered. He answered to no one but himself. 
In the back of his mind there was a soft shuffling sound that gradually became
louder and his exhausted brain filtered the sound into his dreams. The blowing
winds had taken on that strange noise, but he was too far gone to register it
as being no wind he'd ever heard before. It ruffled along the tips of the tall
grassy meadow in a steady ssh ssh sound and he squinted as his dream-self
turned towards the sunlight, hand coming up to shield his eyes as a figure
stepped towards him. It was blurry, silhouetted by the sun, but he could make
out a petite body as the person came closer. The bright light bounced off the
back of their head and illuminated curly hair, blond as it glowed gold like a
halo. His breath hitched as the person, boy, approached him, big blue eyes
blinking at him from the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. 
His lips were full, a ruby red, with a deep Cupid's bow. Heero stared,
fascinated as those alluring lips parted, speaking to him in a soft whisper.
"Hey. Wake up."
Heero startled when the musical voice reached his ears and his eyes snapped
open, instantly awake. He jolted upright, wincing at the crick in his neck and
peered into the dark to make out a figure crouching just outside the bars. His
eyes took note of blond curls and that face, the face he'd seen just a moment
before in his dream, or had it been a dream? He stared at him, wide-eyed and
for a brief moment, he'd actually thought an angel had come to save them.
Until he remembered that he didn't believe in angels.
He lifted his chin at the boy and said, "I think you're lost."
He shot Heero a derisive look. "I can assure you I am not lost. Here." He
pushed a couple of blankets through the bars, then reached into the pocket of
his cloak, pulling something out and setting it on top of the blankets. Heero
glanced up at him suspiciously. 
"Why are you giving us this?"
"Because I think what they're doing is wrong and I want to help you."
"If you want to help us, let us go." Heero realized this kid wasn't just
anyone. From the looks of him, he was someone important. He was cleaner than
anyone had any right to be, his hair almost fluffy. His clothing was of obvious
nobility, the long elegant dress of a well-made tunica beneath his cloak. A
staple of Ghalian status. But he was still just a boy.
He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I don't have a key."
"Then get one."
The boy looked at him in pity and Heero sneered at him. "Then you're useless.
Go back to your suite, or wherever it is you came from." He leaned back against
the wall and closed his eyes again, ignoring the offerings. Whoever this was,
he was still a Ghalian and Ghalians were not to be trusted. 
The boy was quiet for a long time. There was no sound of him getting up to
leave and Heero peeped through his eyelids to see him still crouching there.
The boy asked, "Why are you down here?"
"Ask your General," he snapped. "I'm sure he'll tell you all the same lies he's
going to tell the Court Marshal tomorrow."
He heard the boy huff out a sigh and murmur, "So he is lying."
Heero opened his eyes fully and stared at him, but said nothing. The boy stood
up suddenly. "I'm sorry about this. I can't let you go, but...I can talk to my
father."
"Who are you?" Heero asked bluntly.
The boy watched him silently for a moment. He seemed to be thinking over his
answer. "I'm a friend."
"Ghalians are no friends of ours," he growled.
"Regardless, I'm the only friend you've got down here."
"Who is your father?"
"The King."
Heero's eyes widened. Well. He wasn't just dealing with nobility. This was the
actual Prince who came down, apparently of his own volition. "And what have we
done to deserve a visit from Ghalian royalty? You don't look the type to
frequent dingy dungeons." Heero eyed the boy, taking note of the dirt that
clung to the hem of his long tunica as it brushed against the ground. With the
exception of that, the boy was pristine as could be. 
The boy, Prince, lifted his chin. "Like I said, you don't deserve this
treatment. I'll see what I can do to help you, though."
"Do you have influence over the Court Marshal?"
The boy looked guilty. "No," he said, shaking his head. 
"Well then good luck with that." He laid down on his side, facing away from the
Prince. "Now, if you don't mind. I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow,
so..." He closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the boy. 
The Prince stood there for another few moments and then Heero heard a softly
murmured, "I'm sorry." And for some odd reason, he felt like a snake for making
him sad. He kicked himself. What am I feeling bad about? I didn't do anything
wrong! 
He listened to the shuffling of the boy's footsteps fade away down the corridor
and after a minute, he sat up, stretching his legs as far as he could to snag
the blankets with his feet. He pulled them closer until he could reach them. He
picked up the item that the Prince had set on top and examined it, surprised to
discover it was a wedge of chocolate. He sniffed it, his eyes actually rolling
back into his head at the Heavenly smell. But the thought that it might be
poisoned occurred to him. Maybe this was the General's way of getting rid of
them without bothering with the hassle of a trial. Send the beautiful Prince
down to offer them some delicious, he sniffed it again and nearly moaned,
chocolate. 
Honestly, how stupid did these Ghalians think he was?
He tossed the chocolate aside and grabbed one of the blankets. It was
delightfully soft and thick. He shook it out and placed over Wufei's sleeping
body and then grabbed the other one and pulled it over his legs, reveling in
the warmth and coziness it brought. He settled back down onto his side, pulling
the blanket up over his shoulder and closed his eyes. He drifted off rather
quickly and despite telling himself not to, he dreamed of yellow curls, eyes
like a summer day, and lips as sinful as the Devil himself.
***** There Is No Justice *****
The following morning, Treize was treated to another confrontation between his
betrothed and his King. He sat in the sitting room that offset the King's main
suite, sipping tea from heirloom china when his soon-to-be husband stormed into
the chambers and began another one of his righteous tirades. He watched the
Prince through the doorway as he faced off against his father and admired the
beauty of the boy, even more breathtaking when he was indignant, bursting with
virtuous outrage over some perceived injustice.
The boy had not noticed him sitting there yet and Treize gleefully enjoyed the
fact that Quatre's fury was not directed at him for once. He drank in the
flushed cheeks, the rapine shine of his eyes. His spirit was so fierce, so
alive. He truly was a sight to behold. His eyes traveled down the boy's body,
adorned in the traditional dress of his people. The silver belt accentuated
his tiny waist and the slight swell of his hips and buttocks. The long tunica
both concealing and showing off the Prince's soft curves and Treize was
overcome with desire. His body vibrated with it, his hand curling around the
tea cup.
Everything about the boy was begging to be ravished. From the jewel-encrusted
circlet that rested on his head, to the soft blond curls, the beautiful face,
the sensuous contours of his body, to his small, delicate feet. His pale skin
glowed with health and vitality and his eyes shone with vigor and a unique
purity. Quatre was Hell-bent on single-handedly fighting the good fight for all
that was right and just.
Treize wanted to break him.
He wanted to watch that spirit, that exuberance crumble beneath his fingers. To
see the light in those fiery eyes die down to mere embers and cloud over with
surrender. To hear that sweet voice weep from his subjugation at Treize's
hands. To hold those delicate wrists above that blond head and see the
helplessness, the hopelessness in those cerulean depths. He shifted in the arm
chair and crossed one leg over the other as his arousal made itself known
between his legs. He licked his lips as he watched the boy wave his arms in the
air as he hollered at his father.
Oh, yes. He was going to have that little spitfire. He preferred surrender, but
he would take him by force if necessary. And something told him it would be.
This boy, despite his looks, was not going to give himself up without a fight.
Treize's senses heightened, his nostrils flaring with the thrill of the hunt.
He didn't even realize he was squeezing the teacup in his hands until it
shattered between his fingers with a loud pop, the shards slicing through his
skin. He shook his hand and glanced down at the broken china and spilled tea on
his lap. The suite was ominously silent and he looked up to find Quatre staring
at him in shock. The boy looked back at his father, brows drawing low over his
eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me he was here?" His voice shook with anger.
The King shrugged. "You didn't ask."
"My Prince," Treize said as he stood up, brushing remnants of the tea cup from
his lap. "If I may." He walked to the threshold between the main suite and the
sitting room and leaned against the door frame. "I know you think you're doing
the right thing by defending those boys, but they are dangerous criminals who
were plotting to kill your father."
Quatre glared at him. "You're lying."
Treize cocked his head, intrigued. "How do you know that?"
"Quatre," the King said sternly and Treize watched a shadow of discomfort cross
the boy's face. "Were you down in the dungeons again?"
"No," he said, a little too quickly and Treize knew he was lying. The Prince
really was terrible at it.
"Quatre."
He threw his head back and sighed. "Yes. Okay? Yes, I was."
"What have I told you about going down there? It's not safe for you. It's full
of criminals."
"Alleged criminals who also happen to be locked up."
"I told you time and time again that you do not belong down there. I grow tired
of your disobedience, Quatre."
"You have been imprisoning people for no reason, putting them through unfair
trials and executing them without just cause. They are just boys. You cannot do
this to them. It's wrong."
"Can you honestly tell me that you don't believe they were plotting to attack
us?"
Quatre threw up his hands in frustration. "Of course I don't!"
"So you're calling the General and I liars?"
He chewed on his lip and glanced from one man to the other, uncertain how
forthright he should be. "I - I want to believe you -"
"But you don't."
Quatre looked down, a fetching blush across his cheeks. "I don't believe those
boys meant any harm."
"But, how do you know this for sure?"
"Instinct. Gut feeling. They're just kids. They don't deserve this. Let them go
back to Sai."
"So you're basing all of this on gut feelings." It wasn't a question and Quatre
shot his father a petulant look. Treize chuckled, hopelessly charmed.
"My Prince." Quatre turned innocently large eyes on him and Treize sucked in a
sharp breath. God, but he wanted him. Wanted to ravish him until he begged for
mercy. "Please understand that, as Ghalian leaders, we are doing what is right
for our people. Those boys are dangerous. They could hurt the King, they could
hurt you."
"And inciting war with the Saians is what's right for our people?"
"Like I told you before. They will come for us if we do not. We must make a
stand now before Ghali suffers unimaginable horrors." He cupped a soft cheek
and didn't miss the slight cringe. He dropped his hand as the boy pulled away.
Quatre glared at them both before turning on his heel and storming from the
room.
The King nodded at Treize and he bowed, turning to leave.
"Treize."
He turned back, looking over his shoulder.
"I'm counting on you to keep my son in line. I don't want him talking to those
boys. Once they are convicted and in the gallows, it will not be an issue, but
I worry about this continued behavior of his. His obsession with sympathizing
with our enemies. You are his betrothed. I hope I can count on you to...control
him."
Treize gave a slight bow. "Not to worry, my King. I will take care of it."
"See that you do. Dismissed."
Treize left, closing the doors behind him and headed to the dungeons to collect
the prisoners for their trial. He was going to have to find a way to contain
Quatre. Bring the boy under a firm hand. It was, after all, his duty.
 
***
 
The prisoners were alert when he reached the cell, fixing him with twin glares
and Treize graced them with a deceitfully cheerful smile. "Good morning,
Gentleman. I do hope you slept well."
The brown haired boy's eyes glimmered. "I highly doubt you hoped that."
Treize grinned at him and motioned for the guard to unlock the cell door. He
strode in, the edges of his cape swirling around the frame. He crouched down
and eyed the brown-haired boy. "I've been informed that you met our Prince last
night."
The boy's brows lowered over his eyes as the black-haired boy's head jerked
towards him. "You what - when?"
The boy ignored his friend and nudged his chin at Treize instead. "What makes
you think that?"
Treize brushed imaginary dust off his knee. "Oh, a little birdy told me." He
glanced up and smirked. "He's a character, no?" The boy breathed steadily
through his nose and refused to answer. Treize continued, fishing for a
reaction, "He's also quite a beauty, isn't he? But...perhaps you didn't notice
that." He leaned forward into the boy's space, eyes shimmering. "Or did you?"
"Heero, what the hell is he talking about? Did you meet the Prince? Did I
actually sleep through that?"
Treize continued staring at the boy. "So what did he tell you? What did he
offer you? These blankets, I see. One thing you must know about our beloved
Prince is that he is a rather caring individual. A kind heart, he has. He's
quite the soft spot for our prisoners, though I can't imagine why." Treize
leaned back, his expression one of disgust. "So, what did he tell you?" He
cocked his head at the boy.
"He didn't tell me anything. I asked him to let us go and he said he couldn't."
Treize's eyes were steady as he asked, "Is that all?"
The boy's chin lifted. "Yes."
"I see." He stood abruptly and inserted the key that held the chains to the
wall into the lock. He watched the prisoners' hands drop into their laps and
they shook them out to bring back the circulation. "Alright, boys. Here's how
it's going to go. You're going to be brought through that corridor, up a set of
stairs that leads to the outside. You will walk, with the guards, to the
courthouse where you will wait to be called for your hearing. You will not
speak unless spoken to. You will answer any and all questions with 'yes', or
'no'. You will not mouth off, or disrespect the Court Marshal, or try anything
funny that makes any of us nervous. Do you understand?"
The boys didn't answer and Treize growled at their impudence. He grabbed the
brown-haired boy by the shirt and yanked him onto his feet, enraged that the
insolent peasant just stared back at him. He didn't cringe, or flinch like most
of the prisoners did and it infuriated him.
"You have a real problem with authority, don't you, boy?"
"Only when that authority does not deserve respect."
Treize shoved him away and pivoted on his heel, far more angry than this kid
had any right to make him. "Bring the curs to the courthouse," he snapped at
the guards and stepped through the cell to wait. The prisoners were ushered
out, the drag of the long chains on their wrists and ankles echoing off the
walls.
"Hurry up," he snapped.
The black-haired boy looked over his shoulder at him, anger evident on his
face. "It's a little hard to walk with these things weighing us down, you
know."
They trudged up the stairs and squinted at the bright sunlight, dropping their
heads down as their eyes teared up involuntarily after being in near complete
darkness for almost a week. Heero blinked as his eyes finally began to adjust
and he turned to his right to see that boy, the Prince, standing a short
distance away. The sun beamed down onto his fair head, making the jewels
on his circlet sparkle and his skin gleam. His tunica was a soft blue which
suited him beautifully, but what really stood out was the sword in his hand
that also glinted in the sunlight as he sparred with another, taller boy.
Heero was surprised to see such a delicate-looking creature actually wielding
such a weapon and from the looks of it, he was good. He held his own against
the larger boy and even disarmed him at one point. The Prince grinned
victoriously at his opponent, a flash of white teeth and dimples and Heero was
hopelessly spellbound. He nearly tripped as a guard shoved him, just managing
to catch himself before he fell flat on his face. He shuffled forward, but not
before he caught the Prince glancing over at him, his stunning smile fading,
brows drawing down in a frown. His companion tried to recapture his attention
to no avail and Heero's eyes shifted to the other boy as he looked in their
direction.
He wondered if they were brothers, but they looked nothing alike. Maybe half-
brothers, or just friends, or maybe they were more. Heero was a little
startled to feel a surge of jealousy at the thought that the quite attractive
boy with the long, brown bangs might be a lover to the young Prince.
He was jolted from his musings with another shove at his back. The guard
snarled, "Move it, cur! And take your eyes off our Prince. You are not worthy."
Heero's lip curled at the insult and he stumbled forward, walking as quickly as
he could in the chains.
He caught Wufei's look and his friend murmured, "So that's the Ghalian Prince?"
Heero nodded. "Apparently."
Wufei let out a soft whistle. "So the stories about his beauty are true. I
always thought those stories existed to hide the fact that the Prince was
uglier than a buck-toothed mare on her last legs. Guess I was wrong."
Wufei staggered as he was shoved. "Do not speak of our Prince that way unless
you want to lose your head."
"Thought I was already going to," Wufei muttered.
Treize didn't miss the way the brown-haired prisoner and his betrothed looked
at each other. He'd seen the fascination in the prisoner's eyes when he gazed
at the Prince and his jaw clenched when the Prince seemed to be equally
fascinated. He ground his teeth together in barely-contained rage. That was
something that was never going to happen. It was ridiculous. A peasant and a
Prince? What nonsense! No matter. Before this day was over, the prisoners would
be convicted of their crimes and by sunrise the next day, they would be hanging
in the town square.
His betrothed would be furious. Would likely lash out at him. But it was time
to start nipping that in the bud. He was the future king of Ghali, not the
Prince. He would never allow Quatre that kind of authority. Once they were wed,
he would do away with King Zayeed and take the throne for himself. The people
of Ghali would kneel at his feet, including his husband.
His eyes slid closed as his mind graced him with delightful images of the
Prince, bared and spread out among the silk sheets of his bed. The contrast of
that creamy skin against the black of the bed covers sinfully erotic. He would
decorate him in the most delicate fabrics and jewels and watch them sparkle the
way his tears would sparkle in the low light of their chambers. The boy would
learn. Oh, yes. He would learn to please him, opening those slender legs in
supplication and whimpering as he was taken over and and over, the skin of his
neck rubbed raw beneath the collar that would adorn his tender throat.
Their wedding was only a month away and Treize could almost taste the power
laid out in front of him, paved in gold. Soon, the throne would be his.
Everything he'd ever worked to achieve was just within arm's reach. The kingdom
was as good as his, the Prince was as good as his, and soon the surrounding
kingdoms would also be his. He would conquer Sai, Borsten, Emali, and the
neighboring territories. He would single-handedly rule his empire with an iron
fist. All of his people bowing before him and his husband, his beautiful
concubine, kneeling at his feet, warming his bed.
But for now, there was work to do. Criminals to convict. He let the lingering
gazes between the prisoner and his betrothed fuel his candor. Providing just
enough fodder to feed his jealousy and strengthen his determination to see that
boy hanging in the gallows by sunrise. He glared at the kid's back as he
shambled forward in his chains. The boy sensed it and looked over his shoulder
and for a split second, they were equals. Opponents facing off for the grand
prize.
Heero instantly knew the General was jealous. Knew he didn't miss the looks
between himself and the Prince and the man was furious. It seemed the General
was harboring feelings of a more scandalous nature towards the Prince. Despite
his disadvantaged position, Heero couldn't help but antagonize him. He raised a
brow, his mouth curling up in a smirk. The mischievous gleam in his eyes
communicated his thoughts perfectly.
Oh, you saw that, too? Seems your Prince has taken a bit of a fancy to me. Does
that bother you?
He almost laughed at the murderous look in the man's eyes. There was definitely
more going on between the two of them, though he wondered what it was exactly.
Was it mutual? Something told him it wasn't. Was it something the Prince knew
about? He had no idea, but he found himself strangely curious.
They were pushed into the courtroom, Heero being manhandled by the General
himself as he was roughly shoved into a chair. The chains dangling from his
wrists were wrapped around the wooden arms and locked with padlocks. The
General leaned over him, putting his mouth against Heero's ear. He hissed, the
hot breath causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. "I saw the way you
looked at him. You have not the right to gaze upon such beauty, you lowlife
cur. Only in your dreams could you possibly hope to possess such a creature."
Heero turned his head and looked him straight in the eye. "It seems he doesn't
feel the same," he said with a calm air of superiority that made the General
shake with fury. His hand fisted in the collar of Heero's shirt and he yanked
on the material hard enough to tear it.
"That is my betrothed you speak of! The day you are allowed to gaze upon him
and speak of him in such a way is the day you will lose your head!"
Heero was shocked by the revelation that the two were engaged though he hid it
well. The Prince was still so young, so much younger than the General. But was
it something he wanted? His instincts told him it wasn’t and that made him
angry for reasons he was reluctant to address. He turned away and faced
forward, pulling his shoulder away from the tight grasp of the General's hand.
When he spoke, his voice was soft, nonchalant, but firm. "It also seems he is
not as thrilled about the arrangement as you."
The General sputtered. "How dareyou! What could someone so lowly, someone who
isn't worth the dirt upon my shoe, know about such things? Filthy cur! You know
nothing."
Heero regarded him mildly. "For someone so low, you sure seem upset about what
I think."
He sneered. "Don't flatter yourself, disgusting peasant. You are nothing.
Nothing to me and you are most certainly nothing to the Prince."
"Which wouldn't be anything new consider how you people look down your noses at
anyone who isn't Ghalian."
The General's lip curled up in a savage smirk and his eyes gleamed. "That's
right. You are not Ghalian, you will never be Ghalian. We are a magnificent
race, something you lowly Saians will never understand."
"And I'm quite proud of that."
The General stood up swiftly, releasing Heero with a shove against the back of
the chair as the Court Marshal entered the room. With a final glance down at
the prisoner, he said, "Enjoy your day, for it will be your last." He stepped
away before Heero could retort and he stared straight ahead as Wufei leaned
across his chair.
"What the hell was all that about?"
"Nothing."
"Didn't sound like nothing."
The hearing proceeded just as Heero thought it would. They were given no chance
to take the stand to defend themselves and were convicted of plotting to kill
King Zayeed in less than an hour after having to listen to the court officers,
including the General, grandstanding about the importance of keeping Ghali safe
from the savages of Sai. Wufei sat, red-faced with rage as the guilty verdict
was read and protested loudly as they were yanked out of their chairs, dragged
back through the courthouse and out the back where they would spent their final
night inside a cell to await execution at first light.
"This is not right! You cannot do this to us! We weren't even allowed to defend
ourselves you snotty, no-good, deceitful, evil, maniacal, bottom feeders! This
is not justice! You wouldn't know justice if it -" He took a wooden staff to
the side of his face for his contempt. He fell to his knees, spitting blood, a
large red-welt that would soon turn into a nasty bruise along his cheek. Heero
struggled in the guards' grasp in a desperate attempt to defend his friend,
screaming his rage through clenched teeth as Wufei was struck again and again.
Shouting turned his attention away from the scene. He glanced up to see the
Prince running over, screaming at the guards to stop. He shoved at the one with
the staff, face red with anger. "Stop that! What is wrong with you? Leave him
alone!"
The guard was shocked into silence, his mouth gaping like a fish. "Your
Highness -"
"Give me that," the Prince swiped the staff out of his hands. "I'm of half a
mind to hit you with this myself! How would you like that?" Treize held back a
moment, watching with amusement.
"Your Highness...he is nothing but a filthy Saian and he was disrespectful -"
"It doesn't warrant you beating an unarmed boy! I don't care what he said. You
will never strike a prisoner like that again!"
"Quatre," Treize stepped forward, making sure to send Heero a loaded look as he
took the Prince's elbow in a firm hand. "He is only doing his job. The boy must
be punished for his insolence -"
"This is your doing!" The Prince turned on the General and Heero watched in
fascination as this tiny, delicate-seeming boy squared off viciously to a man
easily twice his size. He was even more sure now that this ‘betrothal’ was not
a mutual thing. "Do you honestly have nothing better to do than to go around
bullying and beating up on unarmed boys? What is the matter with you?"
Treize was flushing with mortification at being berated by the small boy in
front of his men. Especially in front of the prisoners. He didn't miss the
smirk on the brown-haired boy's face and his eyes flashed with the promise of
pain. He grabbed the Prince's arm and pulled him away, glancing at the guards
over his shoulder. "Take them to their cells."
Heero watched as the man dragged the loudly protesting boy further away from
him and he suddenly felt sorry for the young Prince. For a Ghalian, he was
deeply concerned about the welfare of others and that was something Heero never
expected to see. He also felt a twinge of righteous anger at the prospect that
this beautiful boy was being thrust into a marriage he didn't want. He found
himself suddenly deeply worried for the Prince's well being and wondered if the
King was aware of this situation.
Wufei was hauled back onto this feet, his face bruised and bleeding. He spat a
gob of blood and mucus onto a guard's shoes and grimaced around his red-stained
teeth.
Heero began walking again as he was shoved forward, glancing worriedly at his
friend. "Are you okay?"
Wufei grunted. "Never been better."
***** Desperation *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter contains rape/noncon.
Quatre hollered all the way back to the castle as Treize dragged him along by
the arm. He was furious, outraged to see those prisoners treated so badly and
he loathed Treize for encouraging it. He couldn't believe his father condoned
this kind of behavior. To hurt a couple of unarmed boys who were chained, no
less, was unforgivable and he was so ashamed of his own kind for thinking any
of this was okay. Mortified to be among them.
He'd caught the gaze of the blue-eyed boy as they were led away in opposite
directions and he didn't miss the dark look the Saian had shot their way. He
shivered at the intensity of his eyes as they'd stared into his own. There'd
been something there. Some sort of...interest, he thought. He couldn’t be sure
what it was, but he felt terrible about what the boy and his friend were being
put through.
Wasn't he also responsible? He was a Ghalian and this reflected badly on all of
them. He was riddled with guilt that his own people would act this way.
He yanked his arm out of Treize's grasp as the General pulled him into an empty
room and swung him around to face him. His eyes were alight with anger, his
face flushed a furious red. He pointed a shaking finger in Quatre's face and
snarled, "Don't you ever talk to me that way, or override my authority over my
men again. Do you understand me?"
Quatre lifted his chin, a scornful expression on his face. "I outrank you."
"I am the head of the military and those soldiers are under my command. Not
yours. You will never disrespect me in front of them like that again!"
Quatre lifted a brow. "Then perhaps you and your men should begin behaving in a
manner more becoming of someone who deserves respect." His head swung to the
side as Treize struck him with an open hand.
"You insolent little - what do you know about such things? Hmmm? You have no
military background. You are a pampered, spoiled child who knows not of the
ways of the world."
"If I'm so useless, then call off the engagement," Quatre challenged.
Treize paused, his eyes traveling over Quatre's face. He lifted a hand,
brushing the backs of his fingers over the boy's inflamed cheek. Quatre took it
without flinching, staring back with defiant eyes, daring the General to do
just that.
He gasped as Treize's hand suddenly reached behind his head and grabbed a
handful of blond hair. Treize used the leverage to tilt his head back as he
pressed their chests together, his face hovering over the boy's. Quatre sucked
air in through clenched teeth, his eyes watering from the pain. Treize's other
hand rose up, index finger extended, and traced along Quatre's lips. He
couldn't suppress the shudder of revulsion, the impulse to bite the digit
overwhelming.
"No," Treize murmured. His breath ghosted across Quatre's face. "That's exactly
what you want me to do. You are useful. You will be very useful to me." He
leaned down and nipped at the boy's plush cupid bow. "When you're lying beneath
me."
Quatre struggled then, trying to wrench the hand out of his hair. "Let me go!"
He yelped as he was backed into the wall and hoisted up into the General's
arms. Those revolting hands sifted through the folds of his tunica, fumbling
for the soft skin beneath. He snaked his hand between the boy's open
thighs. Quatre's legs kicked uselessly on either side of Treize's waist as a
finger forced its way inside him. He hissed through his teeth at the violation,
trying to hide inside the wall as he felt the man's erection grinding into the
soft crease between his groin and thigh. The General's mouth was clamped onto
the side of his neck and the man growled as he rubbed against him, thrusting
one finger, then two inside the boy.
Quatre struck out at him, punching and scratching. Treize grasped his flailing
wrists in unforgiving hands, using one large one to pin them against the wall
over his head. Quatre cursed as he heard the telltale clinking sound of buckles
being released. He shouted in helpless fury as he felt the General's unclothed
erection pressing up into his backside, seeking entry. He was pinned fast to
the wall, barely able to move an inch as the tip of Treize's penis made contact
with his opening. He did the only thing there was left to do.
"Please. Please don't do this. I beg you. I promise I'll - I'll give myself
over to you willingly on our wedding night, but please not before. Treize,
beloved, please!" The ‘beloved’ made him pause and Quatre thought he might
actually listen. Encouraged, he continued, "I'll give you anything you want.
I'll let you do whatever you want as soon as we're wed, but please don't do
this."
Treize huffed raspy breaths against his neck and he waited, frozen, to see if
he would be let go. Then Treize said, "Yes. You will," and pressed his hips
forward. Quatre screamed at the top of his lungs as he was painfully violated.
 
***
 
The rape mercifully only lasted a few minutes, but it had been a few minutes
that seemed to stretch on forever, every moment pure agony. Quatre made it
perfectly clear through the entire ordeal how much he hated Treize, cursing him
to every level of Hell and back. Treize growled, too far gone in his lust to
care, his hips pushing roughly against the boy. When it was over, Quatre hung
limply against the wall, still pinned by Treize's weight and waited for the man
to collect himself as he panted against his neck. He kept his head turned to
the side, eyes down, refusing to look at the General as he was finally lowered
to the floor on shaking legs.
His hands trembled as he worked to arrange the skirt of his tunica back over
himself, trying to straighten his clothing as best he could. He shivered as he
felt Treize's spent seed sliding down the backs of his thighs, desperately
wanting a bath and Trowa’s arms. Treize watched him with cold eyes as he
fastened himself back into his trousers. He was elated, deliriously sated,
finally able to get the pleasure from the body he'd wanted for so long. He
connected his belt buckles and reached out for the boy, grasping his chin in a
calloused hand and lifting his head. He bent down to press a chaste kiss
against Quatre's mouth and whispered against the quivering lips.
"Remember this when you decide you want to disrespect me in public again,
beloved." He straightened up and left the room, leaving the door wide open so
passersby could see their disheveled Prince shakily trying to pull himself
together. Quatre slammed the door closed, suddenly so overcome with rage, he
couldn't see straight. He slid down the wall, brought his knees up to his chest
and buried his face between them, frantically wracking his brain to come up
with a solution, a way out of this. 
He could run away, but how far would he honestly get before they found him?
He'd never been out there before, had no idea where he was going. The
surrounding kingdoms would never take in a wayward Ghalian, let alone be
willing to provide sanctuary for their runaway Prince. That was just asking for
trouble. He really had nowhere to go, no one to turn to who could help him.
He struggled to his feet, so infuriated with this futile situation, with his
own apparent helplessness and he spun around, driving his fist through the
wall, shouting and cursing everyone he could think of. He punched the wall
again and again until he could no longer feel his hand. He was surprised when
he looked down to see it covered in blood, his knuckles torn up and swelling
from the force of the hits. Strangely, though, he felt no pain. No pain other
than what was in his heart. He leaned against the wall and gazed up at the
ceiling. God, is there nothing I can do? There has to be something!
The idea came to him almost instantly, like a beacon of hope and he sucked in a
breath as the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. He had to
get married. Had to get married very soon, to someone who wasn't the General. A
marriage would be the perfect way to null their betrothal. Render it
meaningless. But who could he possibly marry? His first thought was Trowa, but
that was impossible, though he wished it could be so. Unfortunately, Trowa was
a servant and there was no holy man in Ghali who would perform a marriage
ceremony between their Prince and his servant.
Messy, dark brown hair and intense blue eyes, the color of a twilight sky,
emerged in his mind's eye. Was it possible? He was a peasant, but he was a free
man. It could work if he could find a holy man who would agree to it. He was
fairly certain he knew a man that would wed them. They had to be married by an
Imam. It was the only way the marriage would be valid and break the betrothal.
He had to consider though that the boy was not likely going to just up and
marry him. It would enter him in a binding contract with a Ghalian and he'd
made it perfectly clear that he did not like Ghalians. What reason would he
have to agree to the proposal? Quatre had to offer him something of value. He
remembered the conversation with his father the day before and shuddered. He
had been the bargaining chip in the contract between his father and the
General. Would he have to offer himself to this boy the same way he was
required to do for the General? The idea that he would didn't fill him with as
much revulsion that he thought it would. He was much more willing to give
himself to that boy than he was the General, despite knowing nothing about him.
Though Quatre had seen it in the boy's eyes. He wasn't a bad person. He wasn't
evil. He didn't abuse, rape, murder people in cold blood. His father had mocked
his gut feelings, but Quatre knew they were credible. His gut instincts had
served him well over the years and he was sure he was making the right
decision. He would gladly offered himself to the boy if that was what it took
to get himself out of Treize's clutches.
But, maybe the boy didn't want him. The possibility occurred to him and he
didn't know what he would do if that was the case, though he was pretty certain
he'd seen a flash of interest, of desire, in those dark blue eyes. Quatre was
no stranger to that. He was often leered at, gazed at with hungry eyes, even
groped at times. He knew what desire looked like and he was sure that was what
he saw in that boy's eyes.
But in the off chance he wasn't interested in that, Quatre had to think of
something offer him, something the boy would actually want. Something that
would make this arrangement worth it for him. He'd have to cross that bridge
when he got to it. In the meantime, his now throbbing hand needing tending to.
He picked up the edge of his tunica, wrapping it around his hand and left the
room in search of Trowa. If he was going to pull this off, he'd need help, and
the only person he could trust was Trowa.
He found him in the sparring room, dutifully placing their dueling swords back
on their mounts after thoroughly cleaning and shining them. He turned as Quatre
came in, his eyes widening at his Prince's rumpled state and the fact that his
tunica was lifted up and wrapped around his hand. He rushed forward, his
expression full of worry. That was something Quatre loved about him. His
emotions were always plain to see. He held nothing back, especially when it
came to Quatre.
"Quat? What happened? Are you alright?" Trowa took his hand and carefully
unwrapped it, gasping at the amount of blood, the swelling. "What did you do?"
"I had a little run-in with a wall." Quatre was looking down, a blush blooming
across his cheeks, though Trowa didn't miss the angry swath of deep red on the
same cheek he'd been struck on the morning before. He brushed it with gentle
fingers, apologizing profusely when Quatre flinched and looked at him with
mournful eyes.
"What happened, Quat?"
He tried the hold the tears in, save them for when he was alone in his chambers
that night, but Trowa touched his heartstrings in ways that always made him
confess his secrets. His gentle voice, gentle touch, his kind, caring nature.
The fact that someone actually cared about him. Him. Not what he could give
them. He choked as the emotion burst out of his chest and up into his throat
and he unleashed a hoarse sob against his own will. The tears came, unbidden,
and he couldn't stop them, spilling down his heated cheeks. Trowa gathered him
into strong arms and Quatre never wanted to leave. It was the only place he
felt safe.
"Quat, please talk to me. You're scaring me." It wasn't often that Quatre lost
his composure so this outburst was unusual and unnerving for the servant.
"It was Treize. He -" He couldn't say it, but he knew Trowa had connected the
dots.
He heard the hitch of breath, the hesitance. "Did he..."
Unable to speak, Quatre nodded into this chest and wept. Trowa held him close,
rocking him back and forth, desperately trying to soothe him. Quatre took a few
minutes to get the worst of the agony out of him and then he pulled back,
wiping his face on his hands before he remembered the blood. He glanced up at
Trowa. "I have blood on my face now, don't I?"
Trowa nodded, his eyes sad, and he used the hem of his own tunica to wipe the
blood off his Prince's cheek. "Come on. I need to clean and bandage your hand."
"We need to talk as well."
Trowa glanced up at him and waited. Quatre shook his head. "Not here. In
private. We'll go to your chambers and you can take care of my hand there."
Trowa nodded and helped him to his feet, deeply disturbed about the attack. He
knew it had been only a matter of time before Quatre was unable to fight off
the General and it seemed that time had come. He was shaking, so enraged that
his beloved Prince had been so brutally violated, even more so when he'd been
helpless, was helpless to stop it. 
With this success, Treize would only become more bold now and that terrified
him. The attempt the previous morning wasn’t the first time Treize had tried to
bed the Prince and Trowa had been forced to listen to the struggle from the
next room. He didn’t know how he was going to get though another attack without
impaling the General on his sword. And if that happened, he would surely face
execution.
He escorted Quatre through the rear corridors of the castle, trying to keep him
out of the main traffic areas and out of sight from prying eyes. They made it
to Trowa's chambers without incident. Treize was known to storm into Quatre's
chambers uninvited, but he'd never bothered with Trowa's. It was the safest
place to go for privacy.
Quatre sat down on the edge of Trowa’s bed as his servant brought over a
ceramic bowl of water warmed by the fire he'd built and several soft cloths as
well as a roll of bandages. He gently cleaned the cuts on Quatre's knuckles,
cursing Treize and lamenting over the bruised, swollen skin as he removed all
traces of blood. "This is going to bruise quite badly, but I don't think you
broke anything." He placed the edge of the roll of bandages on the injury and
wound it around Quatre's hand, then tucked the other end beneath the top
several layers. "I want you to take this off when you go to sleep so it can dry
up and scab over. Then, in the morning I'll rewrap it." Trowa shot him a wry
look. "And try not to get into anymore fights with the walls."
Quatre couldn't help the small grin, or the slight chuckle despite feeling
utterly miserable. He thanked Trowa for treating his hand and leaned his head
on his servant's shoulder, seeking comfort that Trowa readily gave. Trowa
didn't want to ask it, but he knew he had to. Just in case.
"Are you injured...anywhere -"
"No. I'm fine." Quatre's voice instantly shut down any further questions.
Trowa nodded and rested his face into the soft curls on the crown of Quatre's
head. He closed his eyes and breathed in the boy's scent. He didn't know what
to do about this situation with the General. He knew he couldn't allow it to
continue and told Quatre as much.
Quatre lifted his head and fixed him with a firm look. "I told you I don't want
you personally involved. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."
"I don't know what I'll do if this continues to happen to you."
"Still, I have more standing, more authority. You are a servant. They would
execute you without a second thought. It's far too dangerous, Trowa. Besides, I
think I have an idea."
Trowa's eyes gleamed with hope. "What is it?"
"I have to get married."
He almost laughed at Trowa's confused look. "I have to find someone else to
wed, soon. It would break the betrothal."
"Yes, but...then you'll wind up in a similar situation with someone else." He
wanted to volunteer. He'd do it in a heartbeat. And he'd never hurt Quatre,
never force him to do something he didn't want to do. But being a servant, it
could never happen. The impossibility hurt his heart.
"Not necessarily. I have someone in mind. Someone who I think would do it given
the proper...motivation."
"Who?"
"That prisoner I was telling you about -"
"Quat, no! He's a Saian! They're even worse than the General."
Quatre looked into his eyes, his own firm, and shook his head. "No, I think
you're wrong about that."
"But why risk it?"
"Do you trust me, Trowa?"
"Quat -"
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes, of course I do! But -"
"Then trust me when I tell you it will be okay. It's the only way I can get out
of this."
"Quat, please don't ask me to help you with this. I'd never be able to live
with myself if that - that Saian hurt you."
Quatre cupped Trowa's cheek with his uninjured hand, stroking over a
beautifully sculpted cheekbone with his thumb. "I don't believe he will. In
fact I'm sure of it. He won't hurt me. He's not like that."
"How do you know, though?"
"Call it intuition."
"Quat -"
"Enough arguing. My decision is made and that's final. The only question left
is, are you going to help me, or am I going to do this myself?"
***** Proposal *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Trowa reluctantly agreed to help him despite his strong misgivings about
what Quatre was planning on doing. He absolutely dreaded it, but he had to obey
his Prince. He was worried, deeply worried about Quatre's welfare should that
prisoner, that criminal agree to the proposal. The possibility that Quatre
could get himself into an even worse situation than he was already in made him
queasy with fear. The idea that this wedding, should it come to pass, would
mean that this...Saian would someday become King of Ghali left him with a sour
taste in his mouth. 
He didn't like admitting it, not even to himself, but he knew part of it was
jealousy. He wanted to be the one Quatre married, though Quatre had said if it
was legal, he would have. Trowa cursed the laws that made it impossible. He'd
make a worthwhile husband to Quatre. He would do everything in his power to
make him happy. He'd never even dream of hurting him, or forcing him to bed
him. He loved and respected the Prince far more than most of the men he'd
encountered. He was cursed by his servant status, but it had been the only way
he could stay with Quatre. Servant, or death. And he would always choose
servitude to his Prince. There was never any question. 
He fondly remembered that adorably small boy with the bouncing blond curls and
the big blue eyes who'd literally jumped on top of him and clung to him like a
baby monkey when the palace physicians were discussing his extermination. He'd
resigned himself to his fate, knowing that if he was unable to be a warrior, he
lacked purpose. His existence pointless. He was surprised that this little boy
seemed to think otherwise and was deeply charmed by his adamant refusal to
allow him to die.
He'd been even more shocked to discover the boy was actually the heir to the
throne. He couldn't believe someone like him, so important and so
obviously cherished, could care so much about a lowly foot soldier rendered
useless by a heart defect. Trowa was quiet, solemn much of the time, not
believing in his own worth, but Quatre never gave up on him. He constantly
strove to coax him out of his shell and convince him that he was valuable.
Quatre worked tirelessly and cheerfully to make sure Trowa felt special, loved.
And Trowa had fallen so deeply in love with him it hurt to even think about. To
know it was never meant to be. His destiny was never to be an equal to his
beloved Prince. He was forever ordained to be a dark secret, a covert lover, a
scandal that should never see the light of day. And he was okay with that, as
okay as he could be. As long as he could still have Quatre.
He didn't know what would happen once the Prince was wed, no matter who it was
to. He was at risk of being sent away, or killed depending on what his
husband's wishes were. Both of their futures were uncertain and Trowa was
terrified at the possibility of being separated from Quatre. 
Still, Quatre was the Prince and Trowa had to follow his lead. He'd
successfully created a diversion long enough for Quatre to swipe the key to the
dungeons and waited outside while Quatre went down to speak with the prisoners.
He was apparently planning on letting them go regardless of what the Saian's
decision was. The boys were scheduled to be executed at dawn and Quatre was
determined to not let that happen.
Trowa didn't tell him, he knew Quatre already knew, that he would be pinpointed
when it was discovered the prisoners were gone. Quatre told him he would take
full responsibility. Trowa was loathe for that to happen, but there was no
other way. Trowa would absolutely be executed. Quatre would be punished, but he
wouldn't face death. He hated to think about what would happen to his Prince
when they found out.
"I'll be fine, Trowa."
"They're going to hurt you!"
"Let them. I'm doing what must be done. Those boys don't deserve this and the
people of Ghali do not deserve to be dragged into war. I must do this. It's the
right thing."
Trowa was to either escort the Prince and the prisoners to the Imam for the
wedding, or help them escape into the dense forests that surrounded Ghali,
depending on what the prisoner agreed to. He leaned against the stone wall and
looked up at the stars. He prayed though he wasn't sure what he was praying
for. For the prisoner to say 'yes', for the prisoner to say, 'no', for the
chance that things would change for the better and he could be the one to marry
Quatre, he prayed for everything he could think of, every possible good
outcome, as long as it ended with the safety of his Prince.
 
***
 
Quatre tiptoed down the stairs until he reached the lower levels and crept
along the wall towards the cells where the boys were kept. He peered in though
the bars and crouched down, trying to wake them with an urgent whisper. They
didn't have much time. Either way, they'd have to act quickly. 
The boy with the black hair and ponytail jerked his head up and stared blearily
through the bars. His eyes popped wide open when he realized he was looking at
the Prince and he sat up quickly, his hand nudging the sleeping boy beside him.
"Heero. Heero! Wake up!"
"Whazzit..." Heero sat up much more slowly and blinked at his friend. He
followed his line of vision and jumped when he saw the Prince on the other side
of the bars. Quatre pressed his face closer. 
"We don't have much time. I have to get you out of here."
The brown haired boy eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you helping us?"
"Because it's the right thing to do. My servant's waiting outside. He's going
to help you escape."
"Hell yes," the black-haired boy muttered, scrambling up on his knees. "There
is a God."
But the other boy was still hesitant. "What's the catch?"
Quatre paused, looking guilty, and the black-haired boy threw up his hands and
slouched back against the wall. "I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true."
Quatre shot them both a sympathetic look and swallowed down his anxiety. "Look,
I'm going to let you go regardless, but...I have a proposition for you."
The brown-haired boy narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"I'm in a situation that I need to get out of. A betrothal. I'm set to marry
him in less than a month and I can't do it -"
"It's that General, isn't it?" Though the prisoner's voice told Quatre he
already knew that.
He nodded. "Yes. And in order to get out of this marriage, I have to marry.
Someone else, I mean."
The black-haired boy leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "What are you
asking exactly?"
Quatre huffed. Did he really have to spell it out for them? "I need someone
else to marry. Tonight."
"Why are you telling us this?"
The brown-haired boy shot his friend a look. "Because he wants to marry one of
us."
"What?!"
"Keep your voice down!" Quatre hissed, glancing over his shoulder. 
"So, you're telling us you'll let us go if one of us agrees to marry you."
"No, I'll let you go either way, but -"
"Fine. The answer is 'no'. Now let us go."
"Please hear me out. I know it's a tall order -"
"No shit."
"But it's my only shot at getting out of this marriage -"
"Just call it off." 
"I can't! That's the problem." Quatre realized how vastly different their
world's were. The prisoners were peasants, but they were free. The didn't have
to worry about being forced into marriages they didn't want. "I don't have a
choice. And you've met him. You know what he's like. Please! I beg of you.
Please help me get away from him."
The black-haired boy shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm already hitched and my
love would murder me."
But Quatre was looking at the other boy. He lifted his chin and narrowed his
eyes at the Prince. "What do I get out of this?"
"Heero!"
"Quiet, Wufei." He focused his steady gaze on the Prince. "What do I get for my
troubles?"
Quatre's heart pounded. He was considering it! "What do you want?"
Heero leaned forward, as far as he could with the chains binding him to the
wall. "I want the Ghalians' promise to leave my land, my people alone."
Quatre nodded. "I'll do what I can."
"No. Promise me."
He hesitated. He wasn't sure how much he could actually promise. Even married,
he was still only the heir and he did not have control over the military yet.
Still, once he took the throne, he and Heero would rule side by side and Sai
would most assuredly be protected. He nodded again, vowing to do whatever it
took to make that happen.
"Yes. Yes, I promise."
"Fine."
"Heero, have you lost your mind? This is a Ghalian! You want to marry a
Ghalian?"
"If it protects our people, then yes. I will marry a Ghalian."
"Heero -"
"Enough, Wufei. I've made my decision." He nodded at the blond. "Let's do it."
Quatre sagged in relief. Thank God! He was saved! "Oh, Thank you! Thank you! I
promise you won't regret it -"
"You'd better be able to keep that promise."
Quatre gulped and nodded, fumbling with the keys. He stood up and quickly
unlocked the door and ran into the cell to release the chains, stepping back
when they got up and shook out their arms. 
Wufei looked between the two of them. "So what now? Where are we going?"
"There's an Imam in the southern village. He's a friend. He will marry us. We
must go there right away."
Wufei sputtered. "What...now?"
"There's no time to waste. The sooner we do this, the better."
Heero looked at him intently. "What about our conviction, our execution?"
Quatre nudged his chin at Wufei. "I can't do anything about his, but he's going
home anyway. Yours is automatically overturned as soon as we're married."
Heero looked dubious. "You're sure about this?"
Quatre's feathers were ruffled at the boy's doubt, though he couldn't actually
blame him. "Of course! I'm the Prince. I'm well-familiar with the law."
Heero stared at him, mulling it over, obviously not willing to blindly trust
the Ghalian. Whatever he saw in Quatre's eyes must have convinced him. He
gestured to the open cell door. "Lead the way."
They sneaked up through the stairwell and escaped through the doors at the back
of the castle and spotted Trowa hidden by the shadows that the trees cast along
the castle wall from the moonlight. Quatre snapped his fingers to get his
attention and gave him the signal to distract the night watchers. Trowa nodded
and released the wagon that had been rigged up along a ramp. Inside the wagon
sat a dummy that Trowa and Quatre had stuffed with stolen hay from the stables.
The effigy was mediocre at best, but in the dark, it served its purpose. The
wagon rolled off the ramp and down through the courtyard, effectively
distracting the guards who were keeping watch. They hollered at the dummy as it
coasted across the castle grounds. 
The wagon crashed into a group of trees and tipped onto its side. The guards
descended the stairs and Quatre turned to his companions and nodded. 
"Alright, let's go." Trowa tried to follow, but Quatre stopped him.
"No. Go back up to your chambers and wait for me. I don't want you getting
caught."
"Quat - Your Highness, no! I can't leave you alone with -"
"Trowa." The servant clamped his mouth shut at the authoritative tone, looking
subdued, but extremely worried. Quatre rested his hand on his shoulder.
"I'll be fine. Go. I'm not going to allow you to get caught. Go up there and
wait for me. You know nothing about this, alright?"
"Quat -"
Heero stepped forward. "I promise. You have my word that we will not harm him."
Trowa shot him a glare, not trusting a Saian as far as he could spit.
Quatre kissed his cheek. "Go. Now. I'll be back soon."
Trowa turned away, feeling frustrated that he couldn't accompany Quatre. He
glanced back over his shoulder, heart clenching as he watched them sprint
across the courtyard, through the narrow stone passageway and out the rear of
the castle and into the surrounding forest. 
"Be safe, my Prince. And come back soon. If those boys hurt you, I will kill
them."
 
***
Quatre and the prisoners moved quickly through the forest. The guards had
probably figured out by now that the 'intruder' was nothing but a dummy and
were likely in the process of trying to identify who had created the diversion.
It was also likely that they had figured out, or were probably going to figure
out very soon that the prisoners were gone. He prayed Trowa reached his
chambers safely and begged whoever was listening to keep him safe. 
Wufei cursed as he tripped over tree branches and grumbled, "Can't see a damned
thing. I hope you know where you're going."
"I know exactly where I'm going. The Mosque isn't far now. I need you to
witness the wedding. Once it's over, we'll escort you to the neutral zone
between our borders. I trust you can find your way home from there?"
"What about Heero?"
"Heero will go back to the castle with me. He'll be protected by Ghalian law
once he's my husband."
"I don't like this," the Saian muttered. 
Quatre turned to him. "Wufei, is it?" The boy nodded. "I can promise you
nothing will happen to your friend. He will have equal status as me once we're
married."
"Doesn't seem you have much status..."
Quatre sighed. "Well, I'm technically second in rank, but I am overpowered by
my father's men, most namely my betrothed."
"Then what good are the laws going to do Heero?" Wufei's voice was shrill and
Quatre hissed a firm ssh in the dark. 
"I'll be fine, Fei." Heero's voice spoke up. "I can take care of myself."
"And once I - we take the throne, I will see to it that Sai's soverignity is
preserved and protected."
"Yes, but what happens before then?"
"I'll do everything I can. I promise. But I can assure you, if I'm forced to
marry the General, Sai will be under constant threat of invasion."
"But you'll be the King, won't you?"
"I have a strong feeling that I won't have much, if any power if I end up
wedding him. There's been rumors that he will kill my father and take over the
kingdom."
"As King, wouldn't you be able to do anything about that?"
"I'm outnumbered. Out powered. My best chance - Sai's and Ghali's best chance
is for Heero and I to join in union. He will have equal footing as me as the
co-ruler of Ghali."
"But you could just do whatever it is you think your General is going to do
once you're married."
Quatre glanced at him. "I know you have no reason to trust me, to trust a
Ghalian, but there's no real motivation for me to ask Heero to marry me if that
was my plan."
Wufei looked dubious, but kept his mouth shut. The Prince had a point there.
"Almost there," Quatre said. He glanced to his left. Heero, is soon-to-be
husband, it was hard to believe this was actually happening, was very quiet.
Quatre didn't blame him. He surely had a lot on his mind. "You sure you're okay
with this?"
The boy looked at him. "Do I have a choice?"
Quatre shrugged. "About as much choice as I do, I suppose."
"Tell me more about this betrothal."
Quatre sighed. "It's...complicated. Basically, my father doesn't trust me to
lead Ghali to strength and prosperity. He sent out an announcement telling the
whole kingdom that he needed to marry me off and that I needed to wed the
strongest and most capable man." He shook his head. "They went nuts, to put it
bluntly. Fighting among each other like a bunch of animals. The General was my
most aggressive pursuer. He's proven himself time and again that he is the most
ruthless man in all of Ghali. My father chose him, despite my opposition. He's
never listened to me."
Wufei eyed him. "You said you had a strong feeling that he did not intend to
rule with you."
He nodded. "That's what I believe. He hasn't said as much, at least not to me,
but people talk, you know? Rumors that he would assassinate my father once he
married me and take the throne for himself have been circulating through the
kingdom."
"Wouldn't that deter your father?"
Quatre barked out a humorless laugh. "You would think so, but I haven't seen
any indication that it concerns him, so I really don't know."
Heero was staring intently at him. "So what happens to you if what you believe
will happen happens?"
"It's anyone's guess, but my inkling tells me he would keep me as a concubine
of sorts. He wants me. He doesn't love me, but he's always -" He cut himself
off as memories from that morning came back to him. He really had no defenses
against him. Once he was married and his father was gone, he'd be helpless and
he would likely lose Trowa. The only friend and ally he had. 
The two Saians glanced at each other over his head before Wufei asked, "He's
always what?"
"Nothing. We're here." He walked faster, not willing to discuss his violation
at the hands of the Ghalian General with a couple of Saians. They walked up the
stairs of the Mosque. As Quatre reached for the door handle, Heero stopped him.
"We're not Muslim."
Quatre shot him a sharp look. "You are now." He swung the door open and stepped
inside. "Rashid! Are you here?" It was silent for a moment and Heero was
beginning to think the place was empty when an extremely large man stepped
through a curtain near the back of the room. His eyes widened as he recognized
his visitor.
"Your Highness!" He murmured with a reverent bow. "To what do I owe this
pleasure?" Royalty showing up at this hour was unusual. The Prince showing up
with two strangers, unheard of.
"I need you to marry us." He pointed to the boy beside him who lifted his hand
in an awkward wave.
Rashid cocked his head in confusion. "Your Highness - well, what is the meaning
behind this?"
"Rashid, please. I need your help. This is for the good of our people. I need
to marry this boy. Right now. Can you help us?"
"Your Highness with all due respect, your father -"
"My father must respect the laws of the land. Will you help us, or do I have to
leave Ghali permanently?"
The man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "This must be serious."
"I wouldn't be here asking for this if it wasn't of the utmost importance."
The Imam stared at him, then at the two boys on either side of him. "Who are
they?"
"This is Heero and Wufei. Heero is going to be my husband."
"They don't look Ghalian."
"They are not. Is that going to be a problem?"
Rashid looked deeply uncomfortable. "Well...they're not members of the -"
"Oh, come on, Rashid!"
"And you're going behind your father's back. Your father, the King, I might
add..."
Quatre raised a brow. Rashid sagged, giant shoulders hunching in defeat. He
raised his head to the ceiling and threw his hands up. "May Allah have mercy on
my soul!" He glanced down at the boys. "Alright, get over here."
 
***
 
"This feels...odd," Quatre said, sitting down on the stone ledge outside the
Mosque. He took the proffered cup of mulled wine from Rashid and lifted it to
his lips before he thought better of it and clinked the cup against Heero's.
"Cheers." Heero gave him a strange look. Quatre smiled and took a drink. "I'm
sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood."
Heero looked down at his cup, swirling the wine around. "I didn't think I'd
ever get married."
Quatre looked surprised. "You didn't?"
Wufei shook his head. His lips were stained red from the wine after he downed
half his cup. "Heero is immensely stubborn, not to mention finicky," he said
fondly. "He's turned down so many potential candidates." He smiled. "Who knew
you were holding out for a Prince."
Quatre laughed softly, but sobered up after a minute. He looked at Heero as he
sat down on the ledge next to him. "I really am sorry it came to this."
Heero stared at him with an unreadable expression before he shook his head. "It
was my choice."
"Only because you wish to protect your people."
"I saw an opportunity for everlasting peace and I took it. Still, I could have
said no." He tipped his cup up to his lips. 
"Marriage is never easy," murmured Rashid. "You both are still young. There is
no need to rush into anything. Get to know each other, become friends -"
"Become friends with a Ghalian?" Wufei whistled. "I think you're reaching for
the stars there." He winked and Heero snorted, eyeing his friend. 
"Are you drunk?"
Wufei shrugged. "Maybe a little. It's a celebration. You're married, but even
better, we're free from that dungeon." He glanced up at Quatre. "I want to
thank you for that."
Quatre shifted, a little uncomfortably. "You don't need to thank me. It was the
right thing to do. I didn't buy the General's story for a minute."
"Tell me more about him," Heero insisted.
"What's there to tell? He's a tyrant. A vicious, sadistic man who is obsessed
with me and with taking the throne." He set his cup down and pulled his knees
up to his chest. "He's been trying to bed me since the beginning of
our betrothal, but I - I didn't want to. I knew I would have to on our wedding
night, but I wanted to hold it off until then if it was possible." He looked up
at Rashid and the man gave him a sympathetic look. 
Heero was pretty sure he knew where this was going. "He refused to wait, didn't
he?"
Quatre squeezed his eyes shut. "He attacked me this morning. As punishment for
humiliating him in front of his men. In front of you."
Wufei cursed and slammed his cup down. "And this is the man leading your army?"
Quatre nodded. "Yes. I tried to tell them that executing you would start a war
with Sai. I think that's what he wants. If he married me, he'd take the throne
and surely lead the two nations to war."
Wufei looked at Heero with wide eyes. "So you may have just single-handedly
saved our kingdom."
Heero's brows dipped down. "The King is alive and still in power." He looked at
Quatre who nodded solemnly. 
"As long as he's King, tensions will continue, I fear. But with our shared
positions, we may have more standing diplomatically."
"You've taken the first step in bridging the gap," Wufei said. 
"That's what I hope to accomplish. Still, it will not be easy."
"And you're sure they're not going to hurt Heero."
"They can't. Legally."
"Technically they can't cross the border, or claim neutral zones as their own,
but they're doing it."
"I know. But Heero is a Prince now. Killing royalty is abominable. It's
something my father would never attempt. He respects the laws of the monarchy
too much."
"But Treize doesn't."
"Treize is my father's lap dog. Once he had access to the throne, that would
have changed, but for now, he follows the rules."
"I hope you're right about that." Wufei shot Heero a wry grin. "So you're a
Prince."
Heero chuckled. "I don't feel any different."
"Duo is never going to believe me."
Chapter End Notes
     The chapters I've been posting have already been written which is why
     they're going up so quickly. The last several haven't been written
     yet so updates will likely slow down once I get to chapter 13, or 14.
     Just FYI. ^_^
***** Welcome Home *****
Quatre tucked the scroll that announced the marriage between himself and the
Saian under his arm as the newlyweds headed back towards the castle. They'd led
Wufei through the forest to the neutral zone, close to where the two had been
caught. Quatre hung back, allowing them some privacy to say goodbye to each
other, not wanting to intrude any more than he already had. 
"When are you going to come back, or are you coming back?"
"I don't know." Heero glanced back at Quatre, then turned to his friend, his
expression almost guilty.
Wufei threw up his hands, exasperated. "What am I going to tell everyone? Duo's
going to kill me!"
"Duo will understand. It might be after he kills you, but he'll understand."
"Har har, Yuy. I liked you better when you had no sense of humor."
Heero placed a hand on Wufei's shoulder. "I don't know what's going to happen
when we get back to the castle. I'm sure I will come back at some point, even
if I don't stay. I don't really know how any of this is going to go. But, I'll
try to send a messenger out to you to let you know how I'm doing."
Wufei shook his head. "This has been the strangest week I've ever had."
Heero chuckled. "I'm in full agreement with you." 
Wufei's eyes glittered in the moonlight, but they were undoubtedly sober. "You
watch your back now. Don't forget, Prince status, or not, you are a Saian among
Ghalians. They will stab you in the back given the chance."
"I'll be careful. Give Duo and everyone my love and hopefully I'll see you
soon."
"I'm going to hold you to that." Wufei pulled his friend into his arms and
hugged him. He whispered against his ear, a mournful hitch in his breath,
"Don't forget where you came from. Don't forget about us."
Heero embraced him, said fiercely, "Never. Once a Saian, always a Saian." He
kissed Wufei's cheek and stepped away, watching as his friend turned towards
the meadow and began wading through the tall grass towards their village. Wufei
glanced back only once, his eyes landing on Quatre. 
"If anything happens to him, I'll be the first one to seek Ghalian blood."
Quatre dipped his chin, a show of respect. "I wouldn't expect any less."
Wufei looked at Heero one last time and turned back around, disappearing into
the trees. Quatre and Heero headed in the opposite direction. The sky was
lightening up a bit, indicating dawn wasn't too far away. They walked in
silence for some time before Heero asked the burning question.
"How exactly are you going to explain this to your father?" He glanced over at
Quatre, his husband, and how strange was that? He was married now. To Ghalian
royalty, no less. When had his life taken such a peculiar turn? A week ago he'd
set out to hunt the Silver Ducks with Wufei and now he was neck deep in a
marriage contract. 
Quatre huffed, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "I'm just going
to tell him the truth. You're my husband now. It's the way it is."
"What about the General?"
He blew out a breath and was quiet for a few minutes. "He's going to be
furious."
"With me."
"Probably more with me. I'm the one that initiated all of this. Took what he'd
been working so hard to gain away from him. I should tell you now, I'm likely
going to be punished for this."
"Punished?"
Quatre nodded. "Don't be surprised if I'm limping for a while."
"But...you're the Prince! Why would they punish you?"
"Well, for starters, I broke you and your friend out of the dungeons, then I
married you, a Saian." He shook his head, seemingly as blown away by that fact
as Heero was. "I defied my father's wishes and ruined the aspirations he had
for Ghali."
Heero was beginning to realize that having privilege didn't necessarily mean
you had a good life. "Then they'll probably punish me, too."
To his surprise, Quatre shook his head. "No, I don't think so. All you did was
agree to the arrangement. They won't like you, but it's me they're going to be
furious with."
Heero voiced the other concern that was on his mind. "Are we expected to..." he
trailed off, blushing. He wasn't generally opposed to the idea. Quatre was
certainly attractive, beautiful even. The thought had occurred to him and he
wasn't repulsed by it. But he refused to be forced into it. There was also the
fact that he'd never even been with anyone before. He had no idea how to go
about it.
Thankfully, Quatre picked up on his trepidation. "Oh, no! No. We don't have to
do that."
"But, don't we have to consummate the marriage, or something?"
"It's preferred, but it's not required. You are not obligated in any way to bed
me. I don't expect it from you, so don't worry." 
Heero's shoulders sagged in relief and he studiously ignored the twinge of
disappointment. He had entered into an agreement and he was going to see it
through to the best of his ability, so long as Quatre didn't stab him in the
back. He had the distinct impression that the Prince was not like that. That he
was nothing like the Ghalians he'd seen, or heard about. He only hoped his
instincts were right. He reluctantly admitted that he'd already begun to like
the boy. He did free them and he really hadn't forced Heero into this
arrangement. He just prayed it wasn't a decision he would come to regret. 
They reached the castle and both froze obediently when the guards hollered down
at them, holding their hands up to show they weren't armed. Quatre lifted his
head, showing his face. "Let us in."
"Your Highness!"
"Open the doors."
The doors opened and several guards rushed out, intent on seizing Heero,
apparently under the impression that their Prince was a hostage. Quatre quickly
stepped in front of him and held his arms out.
"Stand down!"
"Your Highness -"
"He is no longer a prisoner, or a convict. He is my husband. You will treat him
as such." 
The guards were rooted to the ground, shock evident on their faces. 
"Your Highness?"
Quatre pulled the scroll out of his tunica and waved it in front of their
faces. "Signed and sealed by an Imam. We are wed. Lower your weapons and let us
through. Now."
The guards glanced at each other, eyes wide, and reluctantly stepped to the
side. Quatre turned to Heero. "Let's go." 
A little gobsmacked, Heero stepped inside the castle amidst a ripple of shocked
whispers and murmurs. He couldn't help the rush of smug satisfaction. That's
right, you bastards. Ghali has a new Prince and he's a Saian peasant. I hope
you choke on your tongues. He kept his chin high and his eyes forward as he
walked beside his husband and tried to pretend he had more confidence than he
actually did. Quatre spoke as they walked up the grand three-story staircase.
"I must speak to my father."
"I figured."
"You will come in with me."
Heero sputtered. "But -"
"You are equal to me in rank now. You have not had your coronation yet, but you
are still a Prince. What's mine is yours."
Heero still hadn't wrapped his head around that yet. He supposed it would take
a while to get used to the idea. "I'm going to have a coronation?"
Quatre gave him an incredulous look. "Of course you are!"
Heero stared ahead, deep in thought. Well, that was something he didn't expect.
Was he going to get one of those fancy robes? A crown? He turned to Quatre and
caught the blond smirking at him knowingly. He quirked a brow. "What?"
"You're wondering what your coronation will be like, aren't you?"
"Well...yes."
Quatre chuckled. "You'll find out soon enough." 
Heero followed him through several hallways and stopped in front of numerous
double doors, watching in amazement when they were all opened without question
and with a respectful bow. This was unreal! So this was how the other half
lived. His eyes drank in the sight of gold trim, crystal chandeliers, marble
floors, Thirty foot ceilings. Opulence unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
He was awestruck. He glanced at Quatre and gave him a once-over. The
Prince's clothing was made from high quality silks and muslin, draped elegantly
around his body like it was made for him. Heero assumed it probably was. His
eyes caught sight of the gold and silver bands that wound around his slender
upper arms, the shining gold of his belt, the jewels that draped his neck and
the delicate circlet that adorned his head, also jeweled. Would he dress like
that from now on? He was surprised to actually find himself a little excited by
the prospect.
They stopped in front of another set of doors, made of rich cedar wood, trimmed
in gold, and intricately carved by a loving hand in elegant scrolls. Quatre
reached down and pulled the brass handle, swinging the door open and stepping
inside. Heero hesitated when he realized this was obviously someone's personal
chambers, even more hesitant when he realized it was the personal chambers of
the King of Ghali. Quatre may have said he should follow him in, but he was
still reticent. Even if he was welcomed with open arms, which he doubted, it
would still be painfully awkward and he really didn't wish to make his first
impression with his father-in-law by barging into his bedroom.
He lingered in the doorway, listening to the sound of Quatre's voice rising in
anger and the answering angry voice of an older man. Heero scratched his head
and wondered what to do with himself, glancing around desperately for something
to do. He decided the vase of flowers on a nearby pedestal needed an adjustment
and wandered over. He fiddled with the bouquet, rearranging stalks of lilies
and eucalyptus, glad to have some meager task to keep his trembling hands busy.
He heard the tell-tale sound of footsteps behind him and turned, coming face to
face with General Treize himself. The two stared at each other with wide eyes
before Treize's face contorted into an expression of outrage.
"What in the seven Hells are you doing up here?" He roared and Heero could have
sworn a gust of wind blew past his head from the force of the outburst. He
glanced around frantically when he heard the shiiink of a sword being removed
from its sheath, looking for something to defend himself with. He ducked
quickly as the blade flew over his head, slicing the tips of his hair off.
There was an indignant shout and a moment later, Quatre came flying out of the
King's chambers, the King close on his heels.
"Stop, Treize! Stop!" He leaped up and grabbed the man's arm. Treize easily
shook him off and took another swing, the blade just grazing the shell of
Heero's ear. Quatre shoved the General, not hard enough to disarm him, but
enough to make him lose his footing for a second. Enough time to allow Heero to
lunge for the sword. The two wrestled with it before Heero delivered a sharp
kick to the vulnerable spot on the outside of the General's thigh. Treize
shouted as his knee bent inwards and he stumbled, his hand loosening on the
hilt just enough for Heero to wrench it out of his grip. He leaned back as
Treize reached for his neck, his hands outstretched, murder written all over
his face. Heero swung his arm around and leveled the sword against his neck,
his eyes making clear that he would use it if the General saw fit to make the
wrong move.
Treize was smart enough to freeze in place as the blade rested against his
jugular. In his peripheral vision, Heero could see Quatre looking at him in
shock, but didn't dare take his eyes off the General. Quatre straightened up
and turned to Treize, his voice lowering with authority.
"Don't you ever make a move like that against my husband again." 
Treize's eyes slid from Heero to his betrothed, nearly bugging out of his head.
"Excuse me?"
Quatre held up the scroll. "You heard me. We are wed. He is now my husband. He
is no longer a prisoner and you will treat him as such."
Heero watched as the General's face went from flushed to beet red, his eyes
watering as his expression went from astonishment to pure rage. He shifted,
very slowly, towards the Prince, his eyes narrowing dangerously, his voice
deceptively quiet. "What?"
Quatre smiled at him, his eyes uncharacteristically vicious. "Our engagement is
over."
Treize glanced up at the King, eyes huge, uncomprehending. The King stared back
with equal anger, but he nodded his head. He couldn't deny it. His son and the
peasant were legally married, sanctioned by a holy man. "It's true. They are
married."
Treize looked between the three of them, beyond words. His body shook, minute
tremors that emanated from his body in waves of fury. He turned on Quatre, hand
raising as his finger trembled in front of the Prince's face. He sputtered,
"You - you whore!"
"Hey," Heero said in a low voice. It was quiet, but tinged with the threat of
violence. "You will not speak to the Prince that way."
Treize sneered at him. "Oh, I see. You think you're top dog around here now
that you've married our Prince?" His hands curled into fists, teeth clenching.
"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. You are a peasant. You will always be a
peasant. No marriage, no coronation will ever change that. You will always be
nothing. A cur. A lowly, savage, infidel -"
"Enough!" Quatre shouted, loud enough to pause the General's tirade. He stepped
up to Treize, looking up at him while somehow still looking down at him. He was
so tiny, but so full of authority. "You have no standing here. You can do
nothing to us."
"Don't be so sure about that," Treize growled.
"The only thing you have left to do is break the law and if you break the law,
my father has no choice but to take you into custody. Don't you, Father?" He
turned to look at the King, challenge in his gaze. The King glared down at his
son, twitching in anger. Quatre raised a brow.
"You are obligated to follow the law, are you not?"
The King stared back, silent. Heero could have sworn steam was billowing from
his ears. His eyes were icy as he regarded his son. "You will be punished for
going behind my back," he spat.
Quatre lifted his chin. "So be it. I'll take my punishment as it's my duty. As
long as you perform your duties."
The King spoke through clenched teeth. "Sixteen lashes. One for every year you
have made my life miserable. In the town square. At dawn. Given by General
Treize." He spun on his heel and stormed back into his chambers, slamming the
doors closed behind him. 
Quatre turned to Treize. The General smirked down at him, now with an air of
superiority. "You heard him." He leaned in until his face was an inch from
Quatre's. The Prince didn't move, or flinch as the General hissed, "I'm going
to make it hurt. I'm going to make you scream."
Quatre stared back, heart pounding, but refusing to let his trepidation show.
He curled his lip. "I would expect nothing less from a snake like you," he
said. 
Treize straightened back up, shooting Heero one last glare. Heero flipped the
sword around, clutching the blade, the hilt pointed in Treize's face. He
snarled and grabbed it, shoving it back in its sheath and turned, walking down
the corridor, disappearing around the corner. The young newlyweds looked at
each other and Quatre made a helpless gesture, momentarily speechless. Heero's
face was uneasy, reflecting his concern for what would happen at dawn. Quatre
gave him as reassuring a smile as he could, though Heero could see the anxiety
in his eyes. 
Quatre chuckled bitterly. "Welcome to the family."
***** Penance *****
It was already warm when the sun rose over the horizon, indicative of an
oppressively hot day. Heero had a rude awakening when guards burst into the
Prince's chambers early that morning, General Treize at the helm.
"Get up, Your Highness." He dragged the 'Highness' out, sneering
condescendingly and Heero's hackles rose, instincts driving him to defend the
Prince from the sadistic man. He glared at him and Treize smiled, eyes beady,
shark-like. Quatre simply rolled over and got up with little fuss. He'd
resigned himself to his punishment and he was ready to take it.
"I'll be out in a moment," he said. His voice was dull, lifeless and he refused
to look anyone in the eye. Treize and his men smirked and left the room,
leaving them alone.
Heero’s pulse hammered between his temples. "Quatre, you shouldn't have to do
this."
Quatre looked up and Heero was momentarily stunned by the Prince’s beauty, and
by the resolved look in his eyes. "I defied my father and I broke the law by
releasing you and Wufei from the dungeons. I must answer for that. I am no more
exempt from retribution than anyone else."
Heero swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "You knew this
would happen, didn't you?"
"I knew I would be punished. I just didn't know how." He glanced up at Heero as
he slid his nightshirt off. Heero turned away and coughed awkwardly. Apparently
Ghalians weren't too worried about modesty. He ignored the part of his brain
that berated him for looking away and jumped when Quatre shouted, "Trowa!"
Almost as if he'd been waiting for his cue, and Heero realized he must have
been, the door at the other side of the room swung open and the tall servant
rushed in, grasping the Prince's hands, his eyes misty. "Quat  -"
"Help me get ready," Quatre slid a pale orange tunica over his head and turned
so Trowa could secure the long wraps. "Leave the back open," he said with the
same toneless voice. Trowa whimpered, tears sliding down his cheeks as he
draped them over the Prince's shoulder and wrapped them around his waist, tying
them off. It left most of Quatre's smooth, pale back exposed. That beautiful
back that was about to receive sixteen lashes. One for every year of his life.
It was so horrendously wrong.
Quatre stared straight ahead, stoic, as Trowa wept over him, placing the ever-
present circlet on top of his head. Heero watched as Quatre cupped his
servant's face and pressed a chaste kiss to the trembling lips. He felt his own
heart break at the emotional scene, had to swallow down the lump in his throat
as Quatre whispered. "Don't you be sad now. We all have our duties. This is
mine. This is my burden to bear and I will see it through." Trowa sniffled,
stifling a sob, his arms wrapping around his Prince. He wept into the blond
hair and Quatre comforted him through it. Heero felt like he was intruding on
such an intimate moment and he turned away, trying to give them some semblance
of privacy.
He had to acknowledge his burgeoning respect for the Prince. He was like no
Ghalian he'd ever met before. This boy was truly an incredible person. Strong,
so damn strong, caring and compassionate. He did what was right, not for
himself, but for those he cared about. He took responsibility for his own
actions and faced his fears with a steady conscience. Heero bowed his head,
feeling utterly humbled to be in his presence, to be his husband.
He turned as he heard Quatre whisper, "I don't want you to watch this. You
understand?" He looked over his shoulder at Heero. "I don't want him to see it.
Please be sure he doesn't." He stroked the back of Trowa's head, his eyes
begging Heero to see to it that his servant wasn't subjected to the violence of
what was about to happen. Heero nodded, in awe of this magnificent creature,
fully understanding why he was so revered.
"Good." He turned back to Trowa and kissed the top of his head. "I have to go
now." 
Trowa keened and clutched him closer. "I love you."
Quatre smiled. "I love you, too. Always." He expertly maneuvered himself out of
his servant's grasp and faced Heero. The two watched each other across the room
and Heero wanted to reach out for him. To protect him, stop this atrocity from
happening. Quatre gave him a nod and turned to leave, pulling the doors open,
greeted by the General and his men. Treize gripped his arm, hard enough to
bruise the porcelain skin and Heero's jaw clenched in anger as the Prince was
roughly dragged away. The General shot him a look over his shoulder, a smug
expression on his face and Heero's lip curled, wanting so badly to launch
himself over the bed and take Quatre’s place.
He realized Quatre was right. They all had their duties. And Heero's duty was
to see to it that these things no longer happened. His duty was to remove these
evil men from power, once and for all. He turned as Trowa dropped to his knees,
burying his face in his hands and Heero felt so terrible for him. He stepped
over to the servant. Trowa looked up, his eyes despondent and so desperate.
Heero knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I know you blame me for this. I don't fault you, but I promise you. This is
going to stop."
Trowa's head lifted higher and he stared Heero down. "I wanted to be the one to
marry him. To love him and take care of him. I - I couldn't because I'm a
servant. That honor goes to you and I sincerely hope you realize what an honor
it actually is. You have something with him I will never have and I hate you
for it. I hate you so much, I could spit blood. But I must respect you and I
will do so as I am expected to. But I do it only for him. Because I would do
anything for him." His eyes darkened, flickering like green fire. "If you ever
hurt him in any way, I will kill you, just like I'm going to kill the General."
Heero pulled back, shocked. Did this servant actually just say he was going to
kill the General? Trowa read his thoughts perfectly and nodded. "Oh, yes. You
may have the King, but the General. That honor belongs to me. It's more
personal to me than you'll ever know."
Heero looked into those fierce eyes and saw the truth of his words, the soldier
that never was. The promise of pain and death was there and it had Treize's
name written all over it. Heero dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "I will
respect that. He is all yours." He had no doubt that Trowa was going to make
good on his promise. He rose to his feet and went for the door, intent on being
there for the Prince even though the knowledge of what he was about to witness
make his stomach churn, his skin crawl. He looked at Trowa one last time. "Stay
here."
Trowa nodded. "I will. But I want him brought back here when it's over. I do
not want the King's physicians to touch him. I will tend to his injuries and I
will heal him. Please see to it that those doctors do not lay a hand on him. I
will be ready to receive him when you return." He stood up and walked through
the adjoining doorway back to his own chambers and Heero left the room, walking
with a sudden urgency down the winding hallways, almost getting lost a few
times. He cursed as he came upon a set of doors he was sure he'd already passed
at least twice. He jumped and spun around when a low voice spoke behind him.
The tall man that he'd seen in the dungeons before, the Lieutenant with the
expressive blue eyes, who beat them, even though Heero knew he didn't really
want to. He stood firm, holding his ground as the Lieutenant stepped closer.
His arm rose up and he pointed down another hallway. “The courtyard is that
way. To the right, down the stairs, and then left.”
Heero gave a sharp nod. "Thanks." He turned down the hall, but stopped as the
deep voice spoke up again.
"I suppose I should call you Your Highness, though it leaves a bad taste in my
mouth." Heero turned, his eyes narrowing. "Still, the Prince must have chosen
you for a reason. He stuck his neck out for you and he is reaping that
decision. I hope you understand the scope of what he did for you. If not for
him, you would be hanging in the town square instead of him facing a lashing."
Heero nodded. "I will never forget what he did for me and my friend."
The Lieutenant stepped closer, his voice a mere whisper. "There's talk of a
revolution. A reckoning that is long overdue. When the Prince is better, we
will meet again. We have much to discuss." He turned away and walked down the
hallway, leaving Heero standing there with his jaw on the floor. Did the First
Lieutenant of the Ghalian army just inform me of an impending uprising?
He continued on down the hallway, having no time to ponder on that for the
moment and followed the Lieutenant's directions out to the courtyard and ran
across the castle grounds where he caught a glimpse of a gathering crowd and
the murmur of many voices. He weaved through the congregated group of people
until he reached the front, stopping short as he spotted the Prince standing in
the middle of the gathering, surrounded by soldiers. In the center of the space
stood a tall pole. Long chains were attached to it and hung down, waiting for
their next victim.
Heero's heart pounded as he observed Quatre who stood with his chin held high,
beautiful and proud. Not the least bit ashamed of what he'd done. He saw the
King standing on a steep platform, with what Heero assumed were his closet
advisers on either side of him. He watched his son with cold eyes and Heero
hated the man more than he could have ever imagined. How he could stand by and
allow this to happen, to encourage it, was beyond Heero.
He glanced around at the crowd, trying to get a feel for the general mood of
the people of Ghali. There were a few who looked as though they supported this
ridiculous spectacle, nodding their heads with smug expressions. The rest,
though, he was surprised to note, looked shocked, almost sad, whispering among
themselves. Some were even crying. Heero had the dawning realization of how
much the people of the Kingdom loved their Prince. He was a symbol of radiance,
love, and peace and Heero got the distinct sense that Quatre was being heralded
as a martyr.
He watched as Treize clutched Quatre's arm and dragged him over to the pole.
Quatre didn't fight him, allowed himself to be manhandled into position.
Another guard grabbed the chains and looped them around Quatre's waist and the
pole, then wrapped them around his arms and fastened the locks onto his wrists
so he was held fast to the pole, not able to move more than an inch, or two.
Treize stood behind him and gripped the fabric that was draped over the
Prince's shoulder and yanked it down. It ripped and drifted down to the ground,
leaving Quatre's upper body completely bare. Heero caught his gaze and saw the
determination, the strength in those eyes and he dipped his head in a gesture
of respect. His own eyes communicated what he could not say.
Thank you.
Quatre blinked at him and nodded back, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment and
then his eyes lowered to the ground as he waited for his punishment to begin. A
hush settled over the gathered crowd as King Zayeed stepped forward, the golden
crown on his head glinting in the sun. He lifted his arms and Heero almost
rolled his eyes at the dramatic flair.
"My people! My wonderful Ghalians! We are gathered here today because my son,
your Prince, broke the law. And as your King, I am required to uphold our laws,
no matter who breaks them. Your Prince betrayed you!" He held up his hands as
the crowd stirred. "He went behind my back to break his betrothal to your
General, a fine man who will stop at nothing to protect us. He and I only want
what is best for Ghali." He pointed at Quatre who stood with his eyes closed.
Heero could see a muscle in his jaw twitch. "But he, your Prince, does not."
The crowd erupted with sounds of shock and grief and Heero clenched his teeth.
Don't listen to him you fools!
The King continued, "He went behind my back, our backs, and married a Saian!"
Heero's spine stiffened as the King's finger pointed at him and suddenly, the
entire kingdom's attention was focused on him. The crowd roared in outrage,
betrayal. The King waved his hands downward to calm them. "He is your Prince as
well now." Heero could hear the shouts of, "No!" and "Not my Prince!"
"The law is the law, my beloved people. We must follow it. He is your Prince
and he is my son's husband. I must respect that, but! Not before my son is
punished for his insolence!" Heero watched as some of the men raised their
fists in the air, shouting in agreement. Many others were glancing at Heero in
a diverse mixture of anger, outrage, shock. But there was also fascination.
They were intrigued by him. And still, many of the people were heartbroken over
what their Prince would have to endure. Their opinions not changed by the
King's speech.
King Zayeed motioned to General Treize and he held out a hand as a servant
scurried over and placed a leather switch into his palm. The crowd grew silent,
some of the women turning away, unable to look. Heero watched Treize step
closer to the Prince, pressing his body over Quatre's back and Heero had to
exercise monumental self-control not to charge over there and deliver his fist
to the General's face. Treize leaned down, whispering something into Quatre's
ear. The boy's eyes opened and flicked up, meeting Heero's, but his brows were
drawn low in anger. He turned his head as far away from the General's as he
could and said nothing in response.
Treize stepped back and walked several paces before he turned around and shook
his hand out. The long tail of the switch undulating like the body of a snake.
Heero held his breath, heart in his throat and he caught Quatre's look, held
his gaze as Treize drew his arm back, then swung it forward, the end of the
switch making contact with Quatre's back with a sharp crack. Quatre barely
moved, didn't react other than to bite his lip, his gaze still steady as he
stared into Heero's eyes. The whip struck him again and Heero could see the
pain in his eyes then. A third strike and Quatre could no longer continue
looking at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as the fourth
strike cut into him. Heero could see his legs shaking, his fingers curled into
tight fists.
Quatre never cried out, never wept. He remained silent as the whip made contact
with his back time and time again. Treize was furious that he couldn't seem to
get a sound out of him, wanting so desperately to hear the boy scream. Heero
felt a vicious sort of vindication that the bastard wasn't getting what he
wanted and a strange sense of pride to be married to this boy. Each swing of
Treize's arm came back harder and harder and he growled as he still couldn't
illicit even a whimper from the boy. Half the crowd was weeping, the other half
was wide-eyed with awe as Quatre endured each strike.
After the sixteenth lash, Treize threw the switch down into the dirt and strode
forward. Heero tensed, ready to spring into action. The General walked up
behind Quatre and shoved his hand into the boy's shredded back. Quatre hissed
through his teeth, his head tipping back from the pain, but still made no
sound. Heero had had enough.
"Stop!"
Treize looked up in surprise, his hand dropping to his side and, Heero didn't
fail to notice it was covered in blood. His eyes darkened as Heero stalked
towards them, anger in every angle of his body. He stopped in front of them and
growled low and threatening.
"The punishment is over. Enough."
For a moment, he thought Treize was going to charge him. The man's nostrils
flared in outrage that this kid, this Saian would dare speak to him that way in
front of the whole kingdom. Then he snarled and spun on his heel, walking back
towards the castle, shoving through the crowd as they tried to part to let him
through. Heero looked over to the guard and said sharply, "Release him. Now."
The guard scrambled forward, fumbling with the keys as he turned them into the
locks around Quatre's wrists. The Prince slid down to his knees in the dirt,
his head hanging low, shoulders heaving. Heero knelt down in front of him and
touched his chin. His heart ached as the boy flinched and he whispered, "Hey.
It's okay now. It's over." Quatre shakily lifted his head and looked at him
with eyes that belied the pain he was in. Heero carefully removed the chains
from around his arms and waist. "Come on. I'm getting you out of here. Trowa's
waiting for us."
Quatre's head shook, slurring when he spoke. "No...no. Don' wan' 'm to see
this."
"Tough luck. He made it very clear that no one else is allowed to heal you and
I'm respecting that." He shot the King a glare as he watched silently from the
platform. Heero turned his back and crouched down in front of Quatre, grabbing
the boy's arms and pulling them over his shoulders. Then he stood up slowly,
careful not to jar the boy too much as he lifted him onto his back. Quatre
didn't argue, only let out a painful groan as he was hoisted up and Heero
walked back towards the castle, barking at the spectators who stood with wide
eyes and gaping mouths. Heero sneered at them. You pathetic bunch of sheep!
"Move," he barked.
The crowd obediently parted, and Heero walked through the narrow path. He could
see their confused and fearful faces. Detected a modicum of respect on some of
them. Heard the whispers as they lamented and wept over the Prince. Their hands
reached out to touch him reverently, smooth his hair back, kiss his hands, but
they were very careful not to touch his injured back.
Heero carried him back to the castle and all but snarled at the palace
physicians and their reaching hands. He shoved his way through them, bringing
him to Trowa's chambers as promised. Trowa was anxiously waiting for them and
choked as his eyes landed on his beloved Prince.
"Oh, Quat," he whimpered, lowering his face to the sweaty, blond head. Quatre
was unresponsive, unconscious from the pain as Trowa stroked his hair and wept
over him. He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Put him on the bed.”
Trowa helped him gently lower the Prince onto his belly. The bed was covered in
large cloths that had been laid out to catch the blood and keep the bedding
from staining. He stepped back, allowing Trowa to take over, watching with a
heavy heart as Trowa's hands shook with grief, tears sliding down his cheeks as
he brushed Quatre's hair back and kissed his fevered forehead. Quatre was out
cold, which Heero was grateful for. The pain would be excruciating when he woke
up, but for now, he was spared that. He breathed softly through parted lips,
the knot between his brows smoothing out.
Heero cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do?" He felt useless and he
wanted to help. Trowa glanced up at him in surprise, almost as if he'd
forgotten Heero was in the room. His brows lowered in a frown.
"Yes. You can help me put a stop to all this."
"Granted. I would love to. But right now, I want to do something for him."
Trowa pointed towards a table where a ceramic bowl of steaming water sat along
with a stack of white cloth. "I need to clean the wounds. The water is hot to
kill any germs. It's best to do it now while he's unconscious. Dip one of those
cloths in the water and give it to me."
Heero nodded and stepped over to the table, picking up the cloth on top of the
pile and soaking it in the bowl, fingers burning at the heat. He wrung it out
and handed it to Trowa who unfolded it and gently laid it over Quatre's back.
The bleeding had slowed, but was still oozing sluggishly. His once smooth,
beautiful back was completely torn up, Angry red gashes and broken skin criss-
crossed along the expanse, the edges of the wounds beginning to bruise. He
would scar. His back would never be the same. Heero was surprised to realize
they made Quatre even more beautiful.
He dipped another cloth and Trowa laid it over another section. He watched the
splotches of red soak into the once pure white fabric. Trowa cleaned Quatre's
back gently, careful not to cause anymore injury. Quatre whimpered in his sleep
every so often and Trowa soothed him with caressing hands and soft words.
Heero stood back, staying out of Trowa's way and planned his next move. Zechs
had said something about a revolution. A reckoning. Heero was more intrigued
than ever to find out what he was talking about. He had to speak with him and
soon because this? This was unacceptable. It had to stop. He'd seen Trowa's
rage over the situation and despite Quatre not wanting him to get involved, he
knew how determined Trowa was to do just that. Even if it was at the expense of
his own life. Heero had no intention of excluding the servant from any of his
plans. Quatre could berate him about it, but Heero had decided that if Trowa
wanted to fight back, he would allow it. Encourage him even. He would be a
valuable asset in the fight to take down this evil empire.
There would be big changes coming to his kingdom. The day of reckoning almost
upon them.
***** Where the Heart Is *****
It took Wufei two days to reach the Village of Long. He arrived within the
village limits close to sunset on the second day, dirty, tired, and hungry. The
sights and smells of home saturated his exhausted senses, tears brimming over
his eyes, overwhelmed. His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, nearly
weeping in relief. He was dizzy, dehydrated, the edges of his vision
blackening. He dropped face-first into the dirt, now that it was safe to do so.
He was safe now. Safe...and home. And he allowed himself to be lifted up into
the arms of his people as they gathered around him, murmuring in concern.
One of the men of the village scooped him up, muttering about filthy Ghalians,
and carried him to his cabin. He kept his eyes closed, knowing he was home when
he heard the sound of Duo's voice, shrill with panic, weeping with joy. He
rested his head on his husband's shoulder as he was transferred into the
familiar arms of his love. Duo's hands patted him down, checking for injuries
and Wufei slurred through dry, cracked lips.
"I'm okay, love. I'm alright."
Duo wept into his hair, rocking him back and forth. "I thought I'd lost you. I
thought you were gone. Oh, God, but you came back to me. You came back!"
Wufei lifted an arm, weakened, but determined to comfort him. He cupped his
love's cheek and tried for a smile. It was laden with fatigue, but he managed
it. "I'll always come back to you."
Duo smiled through his tears. "You stupid bastard. We've all been worried sick
about you. A messenger from the castle arrived a few days ago and told us you'd
been captured by the Ghalian army. They said...they said you were plotting to
kill their King."
Wufei tsked. "I know. They told us all about our nefarious plans."
Duo laughed and hugged him closer. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again.
They said they were going to execute you and Hee -" He paused as his breath
hitched. "Where is Heero?"
He snorted, shaking his head. "It's a long story."
"Is he okay? What happened?"
"He's fine as far as I know. I'll tell you all about it, but I need some
water...maybe some -"
"Oh God! Yes, of course, love. Here, let me get you something to eat and drink.
I'll run you a bath so you can clean up. You must be starved! You traveled all
this way from Ghali on foot?"
"Yes, believe it, or not." Wufei sat up, taking a proffered cup of water and
guzzling it down. Oh, but it tasted so good. He looked up as his father entered
the hut and Wufei gave him a respectful nod. His father observed him in silence
for a moment, finger absently stroking his mustache. Wufei didn't miss the
twinkle in his eye.
"Just when I thought we'd finally gotten rid of you." His mouth curled up.
Duo scoffed, but Wufei threw his head back, laughing heartily. "Good to see
you, too, Father. Nice to know how much you missed me."
The old man's face sobered, his eyes solemn as they looked him over, noting the
bruised welt on his cheek. "Did they injure you?"
Wufei shrugged. "A little. Nothing permanent."
"What happened, son?"
Wufei gratefully accepted a plate of curry and tucked in, scarfing down the
food like it was his last meal. He grinned at his husband as he shoveled the
food in, manners momentarily forgotten. "I didn't think I'd ever get another
change to eat you're delicious cooking. You have no idea how much I missed
this." Duo sat down beside him and rested his head on his shoulder,
humming contentedly.
"Tell us," his father pressed.
Wufei sighed though his nose, swallowing down a mouthful of curry. "Well, it
seems you know about as much as I do, up until a certain point. Heero wanted to
hunt the Silver Ducks -"
"Those damned Silver Ducks," Duo muttered. "That's what started all of this?"
"Yes. I was hesitant about going because as we all know, it's not a safe area,
but Heero was determined and I didn't want him to go alone -"
Duo growled, "I'm going to kill that reckless bastard."
Wufei smiled and pressed a kiss on his husband's head. "I knew you would say
that. We were spotted by the soldiers who must have been out scouting, or
something. I don't really know. We tried to hide in the brush, but their dogs
sniffed us out. We did the only thing we could do. We ran, but they caught up
to us and arrested us. You know what's worse than walking for two days through
mountainous terrain?" Duo shook his head. "Riding through mountainous terrain
slung over the back of a horse." He paused as Duo chuckled. He set the plate
aside and wrapped his arms around his husband. He felt much better now and he
sighed in contentment at the incredible feeling of his love in his arms. He'd
missed him so much. Missed his smile, his voice, his laugh, his scent.
"The guards beat us. Interrogation, I suppose, though I couldn't figure out
what for. We kept telling them we were only hunting in the neutral zone, but it
didn't matter. They were dead set on the idea that we were in Ghalian territory
and then their General concocted this ridiculous story that were were planning
on infiltrating the castle to assassinate the King. We were taken to the Court
Marshal where justice was not done. Apparently since we couldn't prove we
weren't doing what they said we were, we were guilty."
"How can you prove something you weren't doing?"
"Exactly! That's what I said. So they convicted us and sentenced us to death by
hanging." Duo's arms snaked around his waist, his face buried in his chest.
Wufei heard a sniffle and he stroked his husband's braid, hoping to soothe.
"But the funniest thing happened. After the trial, we were being taken back to
the dungeons to spend our 'last' night. I was...angry. Outraged and I let them
know it. They started hitting me with a staff. Next thing I know, the Ghalian
Prince is running over to us and he's shouting at the guards to stop. You
wouldn't believe. He's the tiniest little thing and here he was scolding them
all like an angry father, including the General, right in front of us."
Duo's head lifted and he stared at Wufei in surprise. "The Prince did this?"
Wufei nodded. "So what happened?"
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and leaned back. "They stopped beating me
and led us back to the dungeon. We go to sleep, thinking it's all over. We're
going to die in the morning and I wake up in the middle of the night and the
Prince is down there, telling us he's going to let us go." Duo's eyes were
huge, his mouth hanging open. Wufei chuckled at his expression. It was probably
how he looked when he'd spotted the Prince of Ghali looking at him through the
cell bars. "I know! It was unbelievable. But there he was. Even more
strange, he told us he had to get married."
"Married?"
"Well, he said he was going to let us go regardless, but...he was in a bad
situation. He was betrothed to the General against his will."
Duo was confused. "But, he's the Prince!"
"Apparently that didn't matter. The King had all but given his son to the
General. He had no choice. And...if you know the General...which I do
unfortunately, you'd know how bad it must have been for Quatre."
Duo gave him an odd look. "You're calling the Prince by his given name?"
Wufei shrugged. "That's what he told us to call him. Anyway, this General
really is an evil man. He's vicious, heartless. He was forcefully trying to bed
the Prince, even succeeded the morning of our escape -"
"Oh, God. How awful for him."
"I know we don't think very highly of Ghalians, but Quatre is different. The
solution he came up with, which it sounds preposterous and it is until you
think about it." He glanced at Duo uncertainly, knowing he was going to drop
some news that would change everything. He sighed and went for broke. "To put
it bluntly, Heero is now a Prince." He watched his husband, waited for his
reaction. Duo stared at him dumbly, not comprehending. Then, he started
laughing. Hysterically. He doubled over, shoulders shaking in mirth. He wiped
tears from his eyes and straightened back up, ready to tell Wufei it was funny,
but not to joke of such things. He paused when Wufei's somber expression did
not change, his own grin dropping like a lead weight.
"Wait...you're serious?!"
Wufei nodded. 
"But...why - how?"
"He and the Prince got married."
"No...no, he wouldn't do that -"
"He did, love. I was there. We escaped to the Mosque where the Imam is a good
friend of the Prince. He agreed to do the ceremony. And Heero agreed to marry
him."
Duo's brows drew down. He breathed hard through his nose, anger setting in.
"Why in the Hell would he do that?"
"He saw it as the most viable way to protect Sai from Ghali's forces -"
"The Hell it is!"
"No, just hear me out. Please." He looked up at his father who gave him the nod
to go on. "I thought it was ridiculous, too. At first. But...if Quatre married
the General, he truly believes that the General would kill the King after he
married him and seize the throne. If that happened, Sai would never see peace."
Duo sputtered, outraged. "But, he'd be the King!"
Wufei shook his head. "The General has the army. He'd take it by force and
subject Quatre to slavery. He'd subject all of Ghali, Sai, probably Borsten,
Emali, and every other nearby kingdom to his will."
"But who's to say the Prince won't do that when he and Heero take the throne?"
"I don't think he will. You'd understand if you ever meet him. It's always a
possibility, but with the General at the helm, it's a certainty."
Duo was understandably unconvinced. "You really don't think the Prince would do
that?"
"No, I don't. Quatre is not like that. He's one of the most caring,
compassionate people I've ever met."
"But, what about Heero? He's surrounded by those...those horrible Ghalians!"
"Heero is royalty now. He's protected by Ghalian law."
"Since when do Ghalians respect the law?"
"From what Quatre says, his father does respect the laws of the monarchy.
Apparently there's nothing worse than killing royalty. Quatre was convinced
that Heero would be fine, and I -" He hated to say it, but..."I believe him."
Duo shook his head, looking unnerved. Wufei didn't blame him. "I don't know,
Fei..."
"Look, do you trust me?"
Duo turned incredulous eyes on him. "Of course I do!"
"Then trust me when I say that I wouldn't normally trust a Ghalian as far as I
could throw one, but...I do trust Quatre. And I have a lot of faith in Heero.
He knows how to take care of himself. And, if this all works out, then Sai will
be protected. With the two of them ruling Ghali, the invasions would end. I'm
sure of it."
"But what about the King and the General?"
"I honestly don't know. But I have to believe in Heero and even Quatre. They
are going to do what it takes to protect Sai." He turned pleading eyes on his
husband. "Please don't be too hard on Heero. He only did this because he wanted
to protect us. He saw it as the most efficient way."
Duo still looked uneasy, but he sighed and nodded. "Okay. I trust you. But if
anything happens to Heero, I want Ghalian blood."
"That's what I told the Prince. He knows I - we would seek retribution if Heero
is harmed."
"Good. He can tell that to his fellow Ghalians."
"I'll likely have to see, or at least send a message out to the Queen. She
needs to know what happened."
"She probably already does."
"Possibly. But I don't anticipate it being news the Ghalians would be happy to
share. And you musn't think badly of Quatre. He didn't force Heero into this.
Heero chose."
"You said he was going to let you go either way?"
He nodded. "Yes. And if it wasn't for him, I'd already be dead."
Duo's eyes closed. It was painful to hear. "Then he has my utmost, eternal
gratitude. But I'll have no qualms about killing him if something happens to
Heero."
Wufei smiled and caressed Duo's cheek. "I know you won't. But, for now, I
believe you promised me a bath."
Duo rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. I'll get that going for you." He stood up and
left the room. Wufei glanced up at his father. The man's eyes were sober, but
hopeful. 
"I hope you're right about this."
Wufei let out a breath. "Me, too."
 
***
 
The bath was the best thing in the world. Finally being truly clean. He felt
cleansed of the past week, cleansed of Ghalian filth, and Wufei sung his
husband's praises as he tipped his head back and allowed Duo to massage soap
into his hair. "You really have the magic touch."
Duo smirked. "Wait till later." Wufei reached behind his husband's head and
pulled it down for a kiss. Their lips met, tongues sliding together. It was a
promise of wonderful things to come and he groaned appreciatively. God, he'd
missed this! 
His bed was equally luxurious and he uttered a long, low moan as he stretched
out on the familiar mattress and pressed his face into the pillows, inhaling
the Heavenly scent of his husband. "I feel like a Prince myself. You really
can't appreciate it until you're forced to sleep on a dirty, cold, stone floor,
or a lumpy, pine cone littered forest."
Duo crawled in next to him and took him into his arms. "It didn't feel right.
Laying here at night with you out there." He gazed at Wufei, tears sparkling in
the firelight. Wufei cupped his cheek. 
"No more sadness, now. I'm home. And I'm not going anywhere."
"Do you really think Heero will be alright?"
"I hope so. Of course, I can't be completely certain, but yes. I do believe he
will."
"And do you believe this really will protect Sai?"
"How can it not? Heero is going to be co-ruler of Ghali and I firmly believe
Quatre wants peace."
"You're sure about this Prince?"
"Yes. I think I'm a pretty good judge of character." He smiled and brushed
Duo's bangs off his forehead. "He's good people. Nothing like his father."
Duo snuggled into his chest and Wufei's arms closed around him. "I guess
we'll have to make a trip to the capitol."
Wufei groaned. "Don't remind me. I've about had my fill of traveling lately."
Duo snickered. "Well, if it's any consolation, we'll have horses."
"Yes, that does help. Makes it quicker anyway." He stretched, savoring the feel
of the soft mattress beneath his back and the warmth of the fire on his bare
feet. "I never thought I'd be warm again. Spending a week in that freezing
dungeon and then two nights out in the forest, I think there was a permanent
chill in my bones."
Duo's brows furrowed in concern and Wufei fell in love all over again. His
beautiful husband was always making sure everyone around him was comfortable,
happy. "Do you need more blankets? I can go get -" He rolled over to get up,
but Wufei pulled him back into his arms.
"No. No, I'm fine now. Nice and warm. I've got all the warmth I need right
here." He stroked his hand up his husband's back, reveling in the comforting
depths of Duo's gaze. He lifted a hand and touched his lovely face, treasuring
the smooth skin. He gazed into sparkling violet eyes. "I love you so much."
"I love you," Duo moaned, rolling over on top of him. Wufei wrapped his arms
around the narrow waist as Duo captured his lips in a fevered kiss, savoring in
the sweet taste of love, of second chances. He opened his legs, inviting his
husband in between, sighing in pleasure as Duo's mouth traced over his jaw,
nipping here and there. He buried his face in Wufei's neck and kissed his pulse
points, sucking marks into the skin. 
They stripped quickly and used a few drops of olive oil from a small bottle
beside the bed and Wufei keened, tipping his head back as his husband
pressed inside him, touching his most intimate places, unraveling his secrets.
He wrapped his legs around Duo's waist, his body rocking from the vigorous
thrusts, riding the exquisite waves of passion. They came together, coasting
along the nearly painful high and Wufei squeezed his husband between his
thighs, determined to never let him go. Duo wept into his shoulder as he
reoriented himself, his softened cock slipping free. Wufei kissed his lips, his
cheeks, his nose, his hair, everything he could reach, whispering, "I love you,
I love you..."
Duo quickly fell asleep in his arms, but Wufei had some difficulty. He laid
awake, cherishing the chance to hold his husband again. He felt so blessed.
Given another chance at life after it was almost taken away. He only hoped
Heero would be okay. He hoped it was the right choice. If it was, then Sai
would finally be left alone. No more invasions, no more raids, no more
conquering, no more violence.
He gazed up at the ceiling as he stroked his husband's hair, whispering in the
darkness. "Be safe, my friend. And make us proud. I'm already proud and honored
to call you my friend."
He pressed his face into Duo's hair and closed his eyes, feeling like the
luckiest man alive. He'd almost lost this. Almost left his husband alone in the
world. He was never going to allow that to happen again.
 
 ***
 
In the morning, Wufei, Duo, and Wufei's father mounted their horses and left
for the capitol. The Queen was intrigued, but troubled by the turn of events,
having not yet been notified of the marriage between Heero and Prince Quatre.
She touched her fingers to her lips and leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide
with fascination as Wufei retold the events of their capture and release.
"Heero saw it as an opportunity for the freedom and protection of Sai."
"I see." She sat back and steepled her fingers. "Well, this is quite an
interesting spin. We were in the negotiating stages for your exoneration and
release." Her mouth curled up. "It was not going well."
Wufei chuckled, able to find humor in the situation now that it was over. "We
were scheduled to be executed two days ago."
"Yes, I know. I was prepared to engage in more...aggressive...measures of
intervention." She brought a goblet of water to her lips and took a dainty sip.
"Prince Quatre is to thank for that."
"But you say your friend was not forced into this arrangement."
"No, Your Highness. Prince Quatre was prepared to let us both go, even if Heero
had chosen not to marry him."
Une's fingers drummed on the arm of her chair. "I've heard the tales about him,
but I've never had the privilege of meeting him. It seems he is nothing like
his father."
Wufei shook his head. "He is not. He does not believe in the conquering of Sai,
or any of the other surrounding kingdoms. He wants peace between the nations."
"Unfortunately, he is not in power yet."
"No. And I fear getting there will be extremely difficult."
"For sure. The King and his men are not going to give up their positions
without a fight. I fear for the safety of your friend, though I commend him for
his bravery and his sacrifice. I am not pleased with the arrangement. A Saian
and a Ghalian...it's unheard of. Though, it was a wise preemptive measure. When
the Prince becomes King as well as your friend, I hope we can anticipate the
joining of our kingdoms. Ghali would make an exceptional ally."
"They are a powerful nation."
"Thanks in part to the Emalians they took for their army. Has Quatre mentioned
the releasing of the recruited Emalians?"
"No. We did not have time to discuss that, but I couldn't imagine him forcing
them to stay, though many have already been indoctrinated to believe in the
Ghalian way."
"No doubt." She sighed and gazed out the window. "I am glad you have returned
to us safely. I realize Long and Syun are not happy with the state of affairs,
especially in terms of sealing off our border." Wufei shook his head. "But I
will do what it takes to ensure the safety of our nation. With any luck, when
there's a transfer of power, it will no longer be necessary, but in the
meantime, Sai must be protected."
"I understand. My father and the other elders are not happy -"
"None of us are, but what must be done will be done."
"Yes, of course. I have spoken to him about it."
"Then you will inform him that I have decided to send my men out there to
patrol the border." Wufei nodded solemnly. He'd figured as much. "I must warn
you, things may get bloody. The Ghalians are pushing. When we push back, they
will only push harder."
"Understood. We are prepared to fight to defend our villages."
"Good. Keep me informed, if and when you are in contact with your friend. I
must leave for the regional Summit. I will speak with King Zayeed as he will be
there as well."
"If it's not too much trouble, could you possibly keep me informed of -"
"If it's of the utmost importance, I will send a messenger out to let you know
what is going on."
"I would appreciate that. Thank you, Your Highness."
The Queen stood and rounded the table, laying an elegant hand on his shoulder.
"I'm glad you are alright. I only hope this arrangement will work in our
favor."
"So do I, Your Highness. And thank you again."
***** Healing and Rivalry *****
Heero quickly discovered that the Prince of Ghali did not make a very good
patient. He spent the next several days being treated to an extremely petulant,
grouchy, and even whiny husband and it amused him to no end. Trowa was
accustomed to his convalescent behavior and just nodded his head with infinite
patience as Quatre pouted, bleated, begged, and railed at him. Currently, he
was trying to convince Trowa to let him sit up, tired of being forced to lie on
his belly.
"Trowa, for the love of God! I can sit up. I'm fine."
Trowa pressed his hand on the blond head, gently, but firmly pushing the boy
back down. "No. You need to wait a few more days. If you move too much, you're
going to reopen your wounds just like you did the other day and it took hours
to stop the bleeding. Lie. Down."
"I'm not going to reop -"
"Quatre."
Heero smirked as the blond sulked, for once being the one who was ordered
around. He glanced at his husband for a little help, but Heero put his hands
up.
"You heard the doc. It's out of my hands."
Quatre dropped his head back down onto the bed and glared at the wall. "I'm so
bored, I'm going to die."
Trowa rolled his eyes. "You're not going to die of boredom."
"I am."
"Then I'll remember to bring your favorite flowers to your funeral."
Heero chuckled. The interactions between the Prince and his servant were some
of the most touching he'd ever seen. It reminded him of his relationship with
Wufei and Duo. He swallowed down the aching nostalgia at the thought of his
friends. He missed them, missed his home, his village. His gloom must have been
more obvious than he realized because Quatre tipped his head and frowned at
him.
"Is something the matter?"
Besides you being whipped within an inch of your life? No. Everything's
dandy. "I was...thinking about home."
Quatre's eyes softened. "You know you're free to go see them."
Heero looked up in surprise. "I am?"
"Of course! You can go wherever you want."
"But...you can't." He felt bad about saying that, but it was true.
"We are not the same. I'm a native Ghalian and I've been treated this way my
whole life. Like a helpless little flower," he said it grudgingly, disgusted
with the concept. "You're different. You're an outsider. You have privileges
that I don't."
Heero was doubtful. "All the more reason for them not to trust me to leave."
"They don't have to trust you, but they can't stop you."
Heero thought about it. "Okay. I'll test your theory and go see them in a few
days. We'll see what happens, I suppose. I want them to know I'm alright and I
want to make sure they are."
"Understandable." Quatre nodded against the pillow. "Tell them I am sorry about
all this."
"I'm not." And Heero meant it. Both Quatre and Trowa glanced up at him in
surprise and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He actually felt comfortable
here with the Prince and his servant. A warm camaraderie much like he felt at
home. He liked them, could even consider them tentative friends. His eyes met
Quatre's and the two shared a smile. Heero felt a surge of something he wasn't
sure he understood. Something like the concept that he would miss the Prince
when he was gone which was something he never expected. Something like an
intangible rush of affection for the boy. It left him with a strange fluttering
in his stomach, almost dizzy with elation in his presence. He thought about him
constantly, worried about him. His arms yearned to hold, his hands to touch. It
also left him with a frustrating arousal and while he was familiar with
arousal, it had never been as strong, or as focused on a single person before.
He'd been there during the worst of Quatre's healing, seeing the boy at his
most vulnerable as he was laid out helplessly on Trowa's bed, oozing blood and
babbling through delirious fevers. He held his hand while he moaned in pain
when Trowa cleaned his wounds and applied healing salve to the cuts. He held
his head as he sweat profusely during those late night fevers, vomiting up the
water he and Trowa had to force feed him to keep him hydrated. He'd listened to
his ramblings, nonsensical murmurs while he fought his way through his worst,
most sickest moments. 
It didn't revolt him. He found himself wanting to do it. Wanting to take care
of him. Trowa was not initially happy about it. Glaring at Heero when he
smoothed sweaty curls away from Quatre's face and pressed cool compresses
against his forehead in an attempt to bring his temperature down. Spoke softly
to him when he slurred out the images in his mind that only he could see. The
servant was jealous, there was no doubt about that. Even more so when it seemed
Quatre wanted Heero by his side. 
Heero didn't want to hurt Trowa, certainly did not want to make him angry, but
Quatre was his husband. It was only fitting that the two of them became closer
over time and Heero wanted nothing more than to increase that closeness the
more he got to know the Prince. 
Trowa stood up and glared at him. "You're going to leave him?"
"Trowa," Quatre admonished.
Heero shook his head. "Only for a few days. I need to see my family, my
friends."
Trowa stepped closer. "And the Queen?"
Heero cocked his head. "What?"
"You planning on betraying us?"
"Trowa, that's enough," Quatre scolded. "He just wants to go home for a few
days, that's all. That's his right."
Trowa turned to him. "Are you sure that's all he's going to do?"
"Trowa, what has gotten into you?"
"What's gotten into me? What's gotten into you? You've been fawning all over
this - this Saian for the last few days!" Trowa was breathing hard, not
bothering to hide his jealousy now.
Quatre flushed, apparently not realizing he'd been rather obvious. He looked
up, his expression defensive. "He's my husband!"
"Seems like you're enjoying that fact. I thought this was to escape your
betrothal." 
"Hey," Heero spoke up. "That is enough. You will not speak to him that way."
Trowa got into his face and Heero allowed it, for the moment. "Who do you think
you are? You think just because you married our Prince that you know anything
about any of us? That you can just come in here and insert yourself into our
lives and order me around? I've been here far longer than you have. I've seen
him and nursed him through things you can't even imagine. I have been here
every step of the way so don't think you have any say over what goes on between
the two of us."
Quatre was trying to struggle into a seated position and Heero and Trowa both
turned on him. "Lay down!" Quatre glared murderously at both of them, but
obeyed, flopping down with a soft, "Ow."
Heero looked back at Trowa. "I'm not trying to insert myself between you and
I'm not trying to boss you around, but I think you're just a little too
irrational -" His head swung to the side as Trowa's fist collided with his
cheek. 
Quatre gasped. "Trowa, stop!"
The servant was panting, rage seeping through his very pores. Heero turned his
head back to face him, cheek throbbing and hot. He didn't strike back even
though it was within his rights, but he made very clear if it happened again,
he would. His eyes hardened and he said, "I know you don't like me, but you are
going to have to get used to me being around. I'm not going anywhere. Quatre is
my husband like it, or not and that makes him my responsibility. You can be as
angry about that as you want, but you are not allowed to lash out at either of
us like that again. Understood?"
Trowa's chest rose and fell rapidly and Quatre's soft, pleading voice carried
across the room. "Trowa, please. Calm down. Don't do this." Trowa turned to
look at him, his eyes traveling over the expanse of Quatre's torn back. That
beautiful skin, marred for this Saian. It made him sick. But he loved and
respected Quatre too much to cause problems for him. 
"Fine. I apologize for striking you and for accusing you of plotting against
us. But if I ever find out you were, or if you cause him anymore harm than you
already have, I will have your blood. That's a promise."
Heero nodded. "Understood." 
Trowa stood down. "Good." He glanced back at Quatre one last time, his
expression softening. "I need some air. Will you be alright?"
"Of course I will. Oh, Trowa. Come here." Quatre's arm lifted and gestured him
over and Trowa went to him immediately, ducking under the slender limb as
Quatre wrapped it around his neck. "You know you will always be special to me."
"But he's special to you, too now, isn't he?"
Quatre's eyes slid over to Heero and he excused himself to let the two talk. He
really hoped Trowa wasn't going to cause problems because he had every
intention of pursuing a relationship with Prince. He left the chambers to get
some air himself and to give Quatre and Trowa some privacy. He was still amazed
that whenever he walked though the castle and the surrounding grounds that he
was treated like royalty. It didn't seem to matter that he was Saian. At least
to most people. A few made their displeasure known, but so far, it had only
been a minor inconvenience. 
He was still trying to get used to his new clothing and to the required
decorations he was adorned with since he'd gained his Princely status. The blue
tunica was long and almost trailed along the floor, much more difficult to move
around in than his former shirt and breeches. The fabrics were different as
well. Smooth, silky, light because of the heat of the region. It was much
warmer in Ghali compared to the more temperate region of Sai which resided in
the higher elevations. 
On his arms were silver bands that took some getting used to. They bothered him
the first few days and he was constantly adjusting the circlet on his head,
feeling like it was going to fall off. He nodded to a few of the guards
when they bowed to him as he strolled through the halls on his way to the
courtyard. He wondered what his friends and family would say when he showed up
dressed the way he was. Just the circlet on his head was worth far more than
anything he'd ever hoped to own in his life. 
He stopped short when he turned a corner and came face to face with King
Zayeed. The man tipped his chin up and gave him a condescending look. Heero
stared back, eyebrow raised, waiting to see if there would be a confrontation. 
"Heero," he said, the tone of the King's voice resonant with disdain. "I would
like a word with you."
"Alright." Well, this should be interesting. He followed the King to an empty
room and stood with his arms crossed over his chest as the King closed the
doors behind them. 
He turned and gave Heero a cursory glance. "How are you adjusting to this new
life of yours?"
"Just fine, thank you."
"So it would seem. I couldn't help but notice how comfortable you appear to be.
How comfortable you seem to be with my son."
"I am honored to know your son."
"Are you now?"
Heero's head dipped once. "Yes. He is a...remarkable individual."
The King turned towards the window, his hands behind his back. "And have the
two of you consummated this marriage of yours?"
"Not yet."
The King looked at him over his shoulder. "Yet?"
"Yes. Yet."
"So you plan on bedding my son."
"Well, I'm not going to force him unlike some people around here." Heero shot
him a pointed look. "But if he is ever willing to reciprocate, then I would not
be opposed."
"I see." The King ran the tip of his finger along the edge of a mahogany table.
"I've received word from your Queen. She is...less than thrilled about this
arrangement. As am I."
"I don't see how that should concern me."
The King's mouth curled up. "You are a peasant through and through. You have no
regard for the ways of things -"
"I have no need for the stuffy, superficially false ways of those who believe
they are better than the rest of us."
"You are aware that your husband is from that world."
"Yes, but Quatre is nothing like that."
The King nodded. "Yes, that is my fault."
"It's not a fault. It's what makes him so special. It's why your people love
him."
"My people do not love him, as you say."
But Heero remembered what he saw back at the town square when Quatre had been
whipped. They did love him. Probably far more than their King. "I beg to
differ."
The King turned on him. "And what would you know about what my people think?
About our ways?"
Heero lifted his chin. "I know what I saw. And...your ways? Your ways
apparently seem to be to force a young boy into a betrothal with a much older
man. A man who has no respect for Quatre as a person."
"Which shows how little you know of the ways of the world. Quatre's engagement
wasn't only for him, though I admit, much of it was. He needs a man who will
keep him in line." Heero bristled at that, but the King continued. "It was
also a preemptive political decision."
"A political decision that would ensure that you and your men will continue to
violate the terms of the treaty and conquer land that does not belong to you.
Forgive me for not feeling terrible about that."
The King's hands curled into fists. "You have single-handedly destroyed
everything I've done to secure the future of Ghali."
"With all due respect, Your Highness. Making decisions that would push the
hands of the surrounding rulers into war is not securing Ghali's future."
The King's eyes narrowed. "What could you possibly understand, peasant boy?"
"I understand far more than you give me credit for. In fact, Quatre's decision
to marry me just might be the one thing that saves Ghali from the dismal future
that you are so dead set on creating for them."
"How dare you!"
"Are we finished?" Heero asked mildly. "I must go check on my husband. He is
still healing from those injuries you inflicted on him."
"He inflicted those on himself!"
"He protected himself from a dangerously sadistic marriage, protected me and my
friend from being unjustly executed, and protected Ghali from war." He turned
to leave. "And by the way, it is quite indicative of what kind of father you
are when you do not even bother to check on your injured son's well being."
King Zayeed was shaking with rage. "You little bastard!"
"Oh, and one more thing. I will be visiting with my family in Sai for a few
days. I will be back and I expect to be welcomed with open arms. I expect my
husband and his servant to be sound and safe and unharmed when I return."
The King sneered. "Or what?"
Heero smiled. "Or I'll bring Hell down upon this place, the likes of which
you've never seen before."
The King laughed derisively. "What could you possibly do to the most powerful
monarchy in the region?"
"Never underestimate a peasant."
***** Alphas *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
In the coming days, Quatre's back continued to heal and while it was still
scabbed over, he was able to move around more without running the risk of
reopening the wounds. Trowa finally allowed him to sit upright, though he still
had to keep his back from coming in contact with anything and he had to sleep
on his stomach. Heero spent much of that time keeping Quatre company. They
talked about their lives, read to each other, and occasionally flirted.
Heero was charmed by Quatre's fascination about his own life, his easy smiles,
and his delightful laugh. He realized he was falling hard for the boy and
wondered what his father would think about his marriage to the Ghalian Prince.
About him being a Ghalian Prince. There was some anxiety about going home
tomorrow, not knowing how, or if he'd be accepted back into the arms of his
village, or if he would be considered a traitor. Quatre sensed his trepidation.
"I think you'll be fine," he said as he closed the book he'd been reading,
setting it aside. He noticed his husband had been quieter than usual and
figured it was due to his return home.
Heero gave him a smile and shook his head. "I don't know. Saians are a stubborn
race of people and my father is the most stubborn of them all."
Quatre pulled his knee up and rested his elbow on it, propping his chin on his
palm. "We have that in common."
Heero laughed. "Yes, I noticed that."
Quatre stared at him, mischief written across the blue eyes. "So you're Sai's
best hunter. Who knew I'd married a celebrity?"
He chuckled. "I don't think I'd consider myself either of those things,
but...at least in my village, yes. Though Duo and Wufei come close."
"Tell me more about them."
"Oh, you'd love them and I'm sure they'd love you."
"I wish I'd had more time to get to know Wufei a little better when he was
here. He seems like a wonderful friend."
"He is. So is Duo."
"What's Duo like?"
"Duo is a character," he laughed softly. "He’s got a great sense of humor. He’s
a wonderful cook, he can make anything taste good. He's not a native to Sai.
He's originally from Borsten, we think. He doesn't really remember. He was so
young when he came to us."
"What happened to him?"
"His convoy was attacked by Ghalian forces. He was the only survivor. A few of
our villagers found him wandering around in the wilderness."
Quatre's face flushed. "I'm so sorry." He looked down, ashamed, unable to meet
Heero's eyes. "I hate what my people have done."
Heero tipped his chin up. "I know you have nothing to do with that. You were
only a child yourself when that happened to Duo."
"I know, but they're my people. And I am their Prince. It brings shame upon us
all."
"Well, we're going to change that, aren't we?"
"What can we do?"
Heero took a deep breath, not quite prepared for this discussion yet. He’d
realized he was going to have to level with Quatre, he just wasn’t sure how.
What he had to say would not be pleasant. It was horrendous even. But it was
the only way. And Quatre had to hear it. "Quatre," he took the boy's hand, his
own smoothing over the soft, pale skin. "You're not going to like this."
"I have a feeling I know what you're going to say, but I want to hear it."
Heero looked into his eyes, his voice hushed. "We're going to have to seize the
throne."
Quatre's eyes widened, but only for a moment. Then he let out a breath and
nodded and Heero could see he knew. Knew what they were going to have to do. "I
know. It was a shock to hear it, but I know you're right. How though?"
"I'm not sure yet. I think I have your Lieutenant on our side -"
"Zechs?" Quatre looked surprised. "I know he's never been fond of my father, or
Treize, but I'm not sure he would do anything to -"
"I think he would, Quatre." The blond looked up at him. "He approached me, just
a few days ago. He told me there was talk of a revolution. He said we would
speak again soon, when you're better. I think he's willing to do more than you
think."
Quatre observed him for a moment. "Okay, but who does that leave us with? You,
me, Zechs, who else?"
"Trowa."
"No. Heero, no."
"He wants to fight, Quatre. He wants to fight for you. He wants blood. He's
already staked his claim on Treize’s life.”
Quatre narrowed his eyes. "He told you that?"
Heero dipped his head. "Yes."
"What else has he told you?"
"That he wishes he could have been the one to marry you. That he hates me
because I have something with you he'll never have."
Quatre scoffed. "He shouldn't hate you. It's not your fault."
"I know, but he can't have the kind of relationship with you that he wants. I
have that instead. Look, I don't hold it against him. It's okay." Heero had an
almost uncontrollable impulse to ask Quatre if he and his servant had been
intimate. Something told him they had been and it bothered him even though he
had no right to be upset about it. He wondered if Quatre would continue
sleeping with him even if Heero bedded him. He didn't know if he could ever
tell Quatre that he couldn't be with Trowa. It was an extremely complicated
situation and hearts were going to be broken no matter what happened.
"I don't know if I want him fighting," Quatre said. "I don't want to lose him."
"It's what he's bred for, Quatre. It's in his blood."
"But his heart -"
"His heart wants to fight. It wants to protect you."
"I want to protect him."
"I know you do, but you've got to let him have this choice, even if it's
something you don't like."
Quatre gave him a dubious look and turned his head away, deep in thought. "If -
when we take the throne, I'm going to free him."
Heero was encouraged to hear that. He only hoped Trowa would accept it. Being a
servant was all he'd ever really known. He may not take to it kindly.
Quatre turned back to him, tears in his eyes. "It's going to be the hardest
thing I've ever done. How terrible does that make me?"
"Quat," Heero was only mildly surprised to find that the nickname came easily
to him. "It doesn't make you terrible."
He tried to stifle a sob and only partly succeeded. "What if he leaves me?"
Heero placed a hand on a soft cheek and swiped a tear away with his thumb.
"That will be his choice and it would be a choice given to him by you. I know
it will be hard if he does leave, but that's what freedom is."
Quatre stared at him, his eyes full of wonder. "You're so wise."
Heero laughed, could feel the heat in his cheeks. "Not really. I was just
raised with a lot of common sense."
Quatre snorted. "And I was raised with none. We make quite a pair."
Heero smiled. "We do."
He couldn't have helped what happened next if his life depended on it. His eyes
drifted down to Quatre’s lips. The lips he'd been dreaming about kissing since
the first night he met him. The blond was staring back at him and without even
realizing it, gravity seemed to pull them closer together until their faces
were only centimeters apart, lips brushing against each other. Heero savored
Quatre's warm breath against his mouth for just a moment and then he closed the
tiny gap, capturing sinfully soft lips between his own. Quatre's eyes closed
and his head tilted to the side, his mouth parting for more.
Heero cupped a hand against Quatre's cheek and dipped his tongue into the
Prince's mouth, his senses on fire with an arousal he'd never experienced
before. Quatre accepted his tongue, touched it with his own and whimpered into
the kiss and Heero wanted him so damned bad, his body aching with desire. His
hands twitched, itching to reach under the folds of Quatre's tunica and Quatre,
sensing it,  grasped his hand and pushed it beneath the garment. Heero moaned
as his palm made contact with the smoothest skin he'd ever felt and he surged
up onto the bed, hand sliding higher beneath Quatre's tunica, arm wrapping
around his waist.
Quatre broke the kiss long enough to whisper, "I want you. I want you inside
me," against his mouth and Heero, nearly forgetting himself, almost pushed the
blond down onto the bed, ready to plunder that beautiful body. Alarm bells went
off inside his head at the last second and he cursed, pulling away, his body
screaming in rage as it was denied. "We can't. Your back."
Quatre groaned, nearly wept in frustration. "I don't care. I want it. Want
you."
Heero shook his head with some effort. A lot of effort. His erection pressed
angrily against the soft silk of his tunica. The slide of fabric against his
cock only heightened his arousal and he cursed every god he could think of that
it just wasn't meant to be. He leaned up and nipped Quatre's lips, red and
swollen and so irresistible. "I want you, too," he breathed. "So badly. But I
won't risk your back. Not yet. Soon. As soon as you are fully healed."
Quatre gazed up at him with eyes desperate and so aroused for him. "Promise?"
He smiled and kissed him again. "Promise. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
They jumped apart as the door slammed. Quatre blushed and looked down at his
lap. "Trowa," he said, looking guilty.
Heero watched the servant as he stepped closer and lifted his chin as fiery
green eyes focused on him. "What's going on here?"
Quatre adjusted his tunica and said, "We were just talking," though his flushed
cheeks gave him away.
Trowa's face was unreadable. "That didn't look like talking."
Heero sighed, "Trowa, look -"
"No, you look. I know exactly what you were doing. You were trying to seduce
him."
"He wasn't trying, he was succeeding," Quatre murmured. Trowa turned on him.
"And you. How many men have tried to take advantage of you? How many men have I
had to protect you from when they decided they wanted you? But now? Now you're
just going to allow it?"
Quatre looked up sharply. "He's not trying to take advantage of me!"
"Then why is that exactly what it looks like from where I'm standing?"
Quatre looked at him with pleading eyes. "Trowa -"
But Trowa was already focusing his wrath on Heero again. "Don't think I don't
know what you're doing."
Heero raised a brow. "Trying to have sex with my husband?"
This time he was prepared for the blow when it came and he had no reservations
about hitting back, though he was slightly disadvantaged due to Trowa's size
and the fact that he had rage and jealousy going for him. Heero took several
hits to the face and his head spun a little before he was able to strike Trowa
in the cheek and jaw. The servant staggered back a little and then lunged,
bringing them both down to the floor. Quatre climbed off the bed and shouted at
both of them, but they were too far gone to listen. Heero knew it had to be
done. This had been simmering for days and it had finally boiled over.
Trowa rolled over on top of him, sitting on his stomach, long fingers wrapping
around his throat and Heero choked as his airway was cut off. Quatre was there
in an instant, jumping on Trowa's back, pulling at the powerful arms without
success.
"Trowa! Let him go!"
Trowa was spitting rage as he squeezed Heero's neck. "Should have been me. It
should have been me!" Heero’s eyes rolled back into his head as his brain lost
precious oxygen. He had to do something, or he was going to die. With a final
burst of energy, he swung his leg up, knee connecting with the side of Trowa's
head. Both he and Quatre rolled to the side and Heero was terrified the blond
had ripped his back open. He pinned Trowa down, speaking with a reedy voice as
he coughed and gulped in air.
"Do not make me send you away."
Trowa choked on a sob and turned his head. "I hate you. I hate you so much."
"Hate me all you want, but I will not stand for being attacked like that."
"He was supposed to be mine!"
"He's not supposed to be anyone's! It's his choice who he gives himself to! Why
doesn't anyone around here understand that?" Trowa sniffled and blushed, his
eyes widening. He seemed to realize the repercussions of his actions, the scope
of what he’d said. He went limp, his expression shamed. Heero let him up and
turned to Quatre who was sitting on the floor staring at him in surprise. Heero
was afraid his back had opened up.
"Are you alright?"
Quatre nodded, still looking shocked.
"Are you sure? Your back - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over -"
"No! No, my back is fine. I just -" he shook his head. "No one's ever said that
before."
Heero cocked his head. "Said what?"
"That it's my choice. I mean - I've always had the choice when it comes to
Trowa. But, everyone else..."
Heero couldn’t believe that the concept was not widely known, or accepted, at
least in Quatre’s case. His eyes hardened. "Well, I think it's disgusting how
you've been treated. Your body is your own. No one else should have a say in
what you do with it."
Quatre smiled, his cheeks pinking. "I knew I chose you for a reason."
Heero got up and offered his hand and Quatre took it, allowing himself to be
helped up. He turned to offer his other one to Trowa. The servant stared at it
almost grudgingly for a moment, then he reached up and grasped it and Heero
pulled him to his feet, his body tensed in case he attacked again, though he
was pretty sure the fight was over. Trowa's rage had been quelled and he was
subdued, contrite. He turned to look at Quatre, his eyes full of grief.
"I - I didn't mean it like that."
"Trowa, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it like that." Quatre stepped over
and caressed his cheek. The servant dropped his head onto the blond's shoulder
and Quatre held him, rubbing his hand over his back. "But you must understand
that Heero and I are married and we -" he paused, trying to find the right
words. "We want to do this. I want to do this. That doesn't mean I love you any
less."
"I don't want you to be hurt, or taken advantage of."
"I don't think you need to worry about that with Heero." Quatre glanced over at
him and smiled. "He is a good man. He's not going to force me into anything I
don't want to do." He pulled back and looked into Trowa's eyes. “I have the
right to be with him if I want to be. Do you understand?"
Trowa squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I wanted to be the one - I thought I
was the one."
"Trowa, we can't help who we fall in love with."
Both Heero and Trowa started, staring at the Prince with wide eyes. Quatre
almost seemed surprised himself for a moment.
"You love him?" Trowa asked, his voice broken.
Quatre looked between them, then stared at Heero. "Yes. I think I do. But...I
love you, too."
Trowa stepped away. "I need to be alone right now." He turned to leave. Quatre
tried to stop him, feeling miserable about it.
"Trowa, I'm sorry."
He was out the door without another word and Quatre cursed, tried to go after
him before Heero stopped him. "Let him be. He needs to think things over."
Quatre turned misty eyes on him. "I feel so terrible about this. I think I just
broke his heart."
Heero tucked a blond curl behind Quatre's ear. "It's not going to be easy for
him. Or you. But he has to learn to accept this."
Quatre looked deeply troubled, but relented, nodding sadly. "I suppose you're
right." He sat down on the edge of the bed and Heero knelt down in front of
him.
"Did you mean it?"
"Of course! I wasn't sure when I said it, but once I had, I realized it was
true. I'm sorry I -"
He was cut off as Heero surged up, claiming his lips in a rough kiss. He cupped
the blond's face between his hands, plunging his tongue into the welcoming
mouth. Quatre whimpered and clutched his arms, trying to pull him closer. Heero
slid his mouth over a soft cheek, down over Quatre’s jaw, and buried his face
into the boy's neck, groaning at the overwhelming surge of emotions. "I don't
want to leave you."
He closed his eyes as he felt Quatre's hand stroking the back of his head. "You
must see your family, your people. They must know that you are well and are not
here by force. I will be fine and I'll look forward to your return."
Heero smiled into the sweet skin and kissed the boy's pulse point, feeling the
blood pump beneath. He yearned to take the Prince with him. To have him meet
Duo, meet his family. He supposed there would be plenty of time for that. Once
they took the throne, Quatre would be free to go wherever he wished and Heero
was sure that his friends and family would be more than welcome at the castle.
He could see the prospect of healing between the two kingdoms within reach and
he felt a strong sense of hope for the future. He and Quatre, together as an
unstoppable team would strengthen their communities and bring the region into a
golden age of peace and prosperity.
Getting there wouldn't be easy, though. King Zayeed and General Treize wouldn't
go down without a fight. But Heero was ready and if it was a fight they
wanted, a fight they would get.
Chapter End Notes
     Poor Trowa. :'( No worries, though. He'll be okay. I love him too
     much to make him suffer for too long. ^_^
     And if anyone is wondering, I'm working on the drafts for chapter 9
     of Evolution and chapter 15 of Incendiary. Don't worry, I haven't
     forgotten about them. I've just been immersed in this story and have
     all but the last two chapters of it written and I plan on getting
     those drafted in the next couple of days.
***** Plots and Promises *****
Heero stayed with Quatre until he fell asleep that night. Quatre tried to fight
it, blinking big sleepy eyes at Heero. He chuckled and touched the tip of the
blond's nose. "Go to sleep. You're exhausted."
"Mmm...don' want to."
Firmer this time. "Sleep, Quat."
The blue eyes finally drifted closed and Heero listened as his breath slowed,
content to stare at that beautiful face all night. His eyes slid over the thick
blond hair that curled around his nape and then down to his back. The gashes
were ugly, horrifically painful looking and Heero's heart clenched as he
remembered witnessing the terrible event. His eyes flickered back up to
Quatre's face and he dipped his head down and pressed a soft kiss onto his
husband's forehead. Quatre did not stir, even when Heero gently caressed his
face and whispered, "You are strong. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
You are one of the strongest people I've ever known and I'm honored to be your
husband."
He slid a hand down and placed it delicately on the blond's back, feeling the
jagged rows of cuts beneath his palm. Quatre twitched in his sleep and
murmured. Heero kissed the little knot that formed between blond brows,
watching as it smoothed out again. "Ssh. It's okay. I promise you, I am going
to make them pay for what they did to you. And I am going to make damn sure no
one ever hurts you again." He pressed his face into the blond curls and laid a
kiss there, then reluctantly pulled away and climbed off the bed. He tugged the
sheet over Quatre's legs and forced himself to leave the room. There was
someone he needed to see. Someone he needed to speak with.
He walked to Trowa's door, glancing back over his shoulder once, then turned
the handle, letting himself into the servant's chambers. Trowa was awake,
sitting in front of the fire, polishing his sword. The blade gleamed in the
candle and firelight as he rubbed a soft cloth over it.
He didn't glance up when Heero cleared his throat, didn't even acknowledge his
presence. Heero bristled slightly at the dismissal.
"I'm here because we need to -"
"I know why you're here."
Heero crossed his arms. "Okay. Are you with me, or not?"
Trowa stood up and crossed the room in a few strides of his long legs, the
sword thrust out in front of him. Heero gulped as the tip of the blade touched
his Adam's apple and he looked into the servant's eyes, challenge in his gaze.
He would not beg for his life.
"I just hope you're capable of protecting Quatre after you kill me."
Trowa's eyes narrowed and he held the sword steady for another minute, then
dropped his arm. "I'm not going to kill you. I need your help taking down this
regime...and Quatre would kill me if I did." Trowa's lips curled up just
slightly in a wry grin and then he turned away.
Heero let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his shoulders
drooping in relief. "I appreciate that."
"Doesn't mean I have to like you," Trowa muttered.
Heero smiled. "Understood."
They left together after checking in on Quatre to make sure he was still
asleep. He'd commandeered the expanse of the bed, stretched out on his belly,
arms and legs spread out in all directions. Heero felt a rush of affection and
smiled at his adorable husband. There was time to fill him in on everything,
but he still needed to heal. Rest was the top priority. Trowa brushed blond
bangs away from Quatre's face and pressed a kiss to his head, then strode
stiffly past Heero. "Alright, let's go."
Heero nodded and followed him out. "Right." 
They walked along the winding hallways and left out through the castle doors
after informing the guards that they needed to meet with the Lieutenant to
discuss official business. They walked across the castle grounds towards the
woods, heading to the Mosque where Zechs and a few of his trusted men were
waiting. Heero was reminded of the trek he'd taken with Quatre and Wufei only a
week ago after reluctantly agreeing to marry the Prince. It seemed like forever
ago. It seemed like only moments ago. He realized as he matched Trowa's urgent
strides, that he regretted nothing. 
Trowa was quiet and Heero tried for casual conversation, intent on getting to
know him better. He needed to be on some kind of neutral ground with the
servant. Even if Trowa never grew to like him, they needed to learn to get
along. This animosity was not going to be conducive for any of them. 
"So, you're Emalian."
Trowa nodded. "I am."
"How did you wind up as a Ghalian servant?"
"Emalian children have been taken by Ghalian soldiers for centuries. They train
us to become warriors for them because of our inbred physical strength and
fighting skills."
Heero was well aware of that. "But, you're a personal servant."
Trowa hesitated, then glanced at him, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "I
have a - weak heart."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Trowa said with a touch of resentment. "They were going to
exterminate me, but Quatre wouldn't let them." A laugh escaped Trowa's lips
before he could stop it. "He attached himself to me, literally, and wouldn't
let go until they promised they wouldn't kill me."
"That sounds like Quatre."
"That's how he's always been. He saved my life."
"We have that in common."
"Yes, I suppose we do. I've known him since we were eleven years old." Trowa
looked over at him, his eyes large, fervid in the darkness. "He means the world
to me."
Heero nodded. "I know he does."
"Does he mean the world to you?"
Heero didn't even need to stop and consider. "Yes."
"I hope so. Because if he doesn't then you don't deserve him."
Heero may not have regretted his decision to marry Quatre, but his heart still
went out to the servant who had been deeply in love with him for years. "I'm
sorry that this all had to happen."
"Just promise me you'll love and protect him for the rest of your life. That's
all I ask."
There was no question, no doubt. "I promise."
"Thank you." There was a companionable silence for a little while after that.
The only sound was the crunching of twigs and leaves beneath their feet, and
then Trowa asked in a tiny voice, "What's going to happen to me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean when the two of you take the throne."
Heero wasn't sure how much he should say. It wasn't his news to share so he
shrugged and said, "I don't know."
"Please don't send me away." Heero could hear the plaintive tone and his heart
ached for the servant. He really didn't know what it was to be free and it
frightened him.
"You can stay as long as you want. I'd never forcibly send you away unless you
were a threat to me, or Quatre."
Trowa released a loud breath of relief. "Thank you. That's much better than
what the General would have done to me, I'm sure."
Heero laid a hand on Trowa's shoulder, encouraged when he didn't pull away.
"He's no longer going to be a threat to anyone."
Trowa spoke through clenched teeth. "I cannot wait to sink my blade into his
flesh. The things he's done to Quat -" he cut himself off, shaking his head.
"I've been protecting him for years. Men are always - always trying to - I
can't even say it. But Treize was the worst of them and he was the only one I
couldn't protect him from." He paused. "The day of your Court Marshal, Treize -
"
"I know. You don't have to say it. I know what he did."
"I'm going to slice him in half."
"I don't doubt that for a moment."
Trowa glanced over at him and Heero could almost see a grudging respect on his
handsome face. "I wanted to be the one who married Quatre, but...if I had to
choose someone else for him, it would be you."
Heero was touched by that and he smiled. "I promise I won't let you down. I'll
take good care of him."
"Good, because if I ever find out you hurt him in any way, you'll suffer the
same fate as the General."
"I don't doubt that either."
They reached the Mosque and Trowa pulled the doors open, stepping inside and
Heero followed behind him. The Imam stood up and greeted the servant with a big
smile, pulling the boy into a warm embrace.
"Trowa! How are you, boy?"
"I'm good, Rashid. I hope you're well. How is your wife?"
"Oh, she's fine, she's fine." Rashid waved a hand. "As difficult as ever." He
grinned and turned to Heero, bowing slightly. "Your Highness. Forgive me for
not greeting you first." The man flushed and Heero glanced around, a little
embarrassed. 
"Uh...you don't have to apologize for that. Really, it's fine."
"Thank you." He held out his hand and Heero grasped it, intent of shaking it.
He was stunned when the holy man kissed it reverently and Heero couldn't help
but blush with mortification. Zechs chuckled as he walked over.
"He's still getting used to the royal treatment." He bowed and then reached
over to shake Heero's hand.
Heero scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. "Yes, it's...strange, to say
the least."
"Oh, you'll get used to it." Rashid waved him off and stepped away. "I'm sure
by the end of the month, you'll be sick of it. Quatre always rolls his eyes at
me when I do that."
Rashid led them through the curtained off door, past a small office area and to
another room in the back where a table and chairs stood at the center. "Sit
down. Sit. Have some wine. My wife makes it. It's quite good."
Heero picked up a cup from the table, remembering the wine from his wedding
night. It had been rather good, but he still preferred Duo's earthy blend. It
was still hard to believe he was going home tomorrow. Going home as the new
Prince of Ghali. He sat down across from Zechs and Trowa took the seat next to
him. The other men remained standing. Heero wasn't sure, but he suspected it
was a gesture of respect for him. Never sit down with a Prince unless invited.
He gestured to the remaining chairs and his theory was confirmed when they
immediately lowered themselves into the chairs.
Trowa was impatient, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him.
"What's the plan?"
Zechs hid a small grin behind his cup, amused at the servant's impatience.
"Assassination of the King, first and foremost. That automatically puts you and
Prince Quatre as the highest authority. From there, we can arrest the rest of
his followers, including his advisers, including the General."
Heero raised a brow. "Arrest? He's not going to go quietly."
Zechs snorted. "Indeed. Death is the other option. Treize will fight until his
last breath."
"Then he will die." Trowa leaned back into his chair. "He is mine."
"If it's plausible," said Heero. "How do we go about assassinating the King?
Are the people going to be angry? Will they revolt?"
Zechs shrugged. "We must understand that some people will be unhappy with this,
but most will welcome the new monarchy. You and Prince Quatre will have to do a
lot of reassuring that you have done what is right for them. The vast majority
of the people of Ghali will support the two of you."
Heero eyed the blond man. "You're sure about this?"
Zechs leveled his gaze on him. "You tell me."
Heero nodded, thinking back on the day of Quatre's whipping. Most of those
gathered did not seem happy about it. "Yes, I believe you're right. From what I
saw at Quatre's...punishment," he saw Trowa blanch out of the corner of his
eye. "Most of the people there were not in support of it."
"The trick is not only to take out King Zayeed, but also those who would
willingly prosecute the assassin. That's why it must be either you, or Quatre."
Heero understood that. "I'll do it." He couldn't imagine what killing his own
father would do to Quatre. Even if the King was a tyrant, he was still his
father. And Quatre wasn't a killer.
Zechs set his cup down and licked his lips. "I hear you are leaving tomorrow.
Is that correct?" 
He nodded. "Yes. I'm going back to Sai for a couple of days. I need to see my
family. Let them know I'm alright."
"You must not take too much time. The sooner this is done, the better."
"Understood. When should I?" He couldn't believe this was actually happening.
He was plotting to kill the King of Ghali. Soon, he would be their King. He was
still trying to wrap his head around that.
"You will have the opportunity the day after tomorrow when he returns from the
Regional Summit. He will be tired. So will his men. They typically come back in
the evening."
"And the General is mine," Trowa reminded them.
"You will have to wait on that until the King is disposed of."
The servant nodded and downed the rest of his wine. Heero looked over at him.
"Are you sure you can do this? He will fight."
Trowa shot him an affronted look and Heero felt guilty about doubting him.
There was a gleam of satisfaction, anticipation in the green eyes, the slight
curl of his lips. "I'm looking forward to it."
***** Return To Sai *****
Heero woke up sprawled on his back, a pleasant weight across his chest. Quatre
was draped over him, snoring softly and Heero laughed under his breath, lightly
stroking his hand over the raised scabs on the blond's back. Quatre murmured in
his sleep and settled back down. Heero shifted a little, a slight jolt of
excitement running through his veins at the warmth of the soft skin against his
own. Quatre's back would heal soon and the promise of lovemaking hovered in the
air between them.
Heero couldn't wait. He'd been dreaming of it for days. To know what true
intimacy felt like. The experience of feeling the blond beneath him, to feel
him tremble, hear him moan from pleasure. A thrill raced up Heero's spine and
he smothered a groan into the soft curls.
Soon they would be the Kings of Ghali. The prospect didn't frighten him as much
as he thought it would. Quatre would have the experience and knowledge about
ruling that Heero lacked. They would have their advisers to help them along the
way, including Zechs and Trowa, if the latter chose to stay. They would learn
and together they would make Ghali great. They would make Sai great. Bury the
hatchet between the two kingdoms and extend the hand of friendship to Borsten,
Emali, and the rest of the surrounding territories. 
And he would have the one person he could no longer imagine being without by
his side. That was the best part of all. He had no doubt that Quatre would make
a successful King. Someone who was loved and cherished by his people. It was
impossible not to love Quatre. And perhaps with time, they would learn to love
Heero, too. 
He had a harrowing time ahead of him, though. He still wasn't sure how his
family and friends would respond to his marriage, his new status. He thought he
knew them well enough to know that they would accept it, even if it took time,
but there was always the possibility that they wouldn't and that made him
nervous. He didn't want to lose his loved ones. All he could do was hope they
welcomed him, welcomed his husband.
Plotting to kill the King was a terrifying endeavor. It was risky. Something
could go wrong. He could hesitate at the last moment. He'd never taken a human
life before. Even the idea of killing someone who deserved it left him feeling
terribly uneasy. The King was a villainous man. He'd been responsible for many
unjust deaths, but he was still a person. 
There was also the prospect that Quatre would have difficulty living with the
man who had killed his father. He didn't know what he would do if that
happened. Even if Quatre understood what must be done, the reality could end up
being far different. He glanced down at the blond head, rising and falling
gently with Heero's breaths. He slid his finger through a curl and gently
pulled it. He released the lock and watched it spring back. Fascinated, he did
it again. And again.
"What are you doing?" Came the sleepy murmur.
Heero smiled. "I like your curls."
Quatre lifted his head up and blinked bleary eyes. He grinned, showcasing the
most adorable set of dimples and Heero couldn't help but press his finger into
one. Quatre chuckled and leaned forward, pressing their lips together and Heero
hummed happily into the kiss. When Quatre pulled away, he asked, "How's your
back?"
"It's sore, but it's mending. I should be right as rain again in a week, or
so." He shot Heero a lecherous grin. "I'm still holding you to your promise."
Heero returned the grin, his hand sliding from Quatre's side down to the soft
buttocks, cupping himself a handful. His groin twitched with interest and he
mentally told it to calm down. Now was not the time. Quatre seemed to be
suffering the same disappointment. His head flopped down onto Heero's shoulder
and he groaned, his tone mournful. 
"Soon, love."
Quatre swung a leg over his hip and lifted himself up, straddling his waist.
Heero looked up in awe at the beautiful creature, almost unable to believe
he wanted him. Him, of all people. He couldn't believe his luck. He threw his
head back, sucking in a sharp breath when Quatre shifted, his backside rubbing
over Heero's arousal. How he ached to press up into that body. He could imagine
the tight heat that would surround his cock. Quatre's eyes shined as he started
down at him, a knowing smirk on his face. He leaned down until their
mouths brushed together.
"It's going to feel so good," he whispered. "I promise." A pink tongue
flickered out between full, rosy lips and licked over his own and Heero surged
up, sealing their mouths together, rubbing his cock against that sinful little
bottom. Quatre whimpered against him, his voice desperate. "We can do it just
like this. It won't hurt my back. Please. I need you. I can't wait any longer."
Heero cursed, ready to explode, and nodded eagerly. "Yes. Okay. Just like this,
but if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?"
Quatre slid off of him and Heero's groin twitched upwards, seeking the blond's
heat. He watched him dash across the room and pick up a small bottle off a
table near the hearth. He came back and climbed up onto the bed, sliding his
nightshirt off and Heero sat up instantly, his arms encircling Quatre's waist,
and sucked a tightened nipple into his mouth. Quatre hissed, his head tipping
back in pleasure and he rubbed his own erection against Heero's stomach. He
pressed the bottle into Heero's hands, his voice urgent.
"Please. I need you. You have to prepare me." Too aroused to even think
straight, Heero unstopped the bottle with shaky fingers, drizzling the rose-
scented oil onto them and reached around behind the boy. He groaned as his
fingers touched the bare skin of the blond's ass, feeling the crease down the
middle, and following the path until they found the tiny opening. He circled it
with his index finger, his heart pounding, and then pressed it in. 
They both groaned as it slid inside the velvety tight heat and Heero bit down
on his lip as Quatre's inner muscles rippled over his finger. The blond panted
in his ear, his hips rolling sensuously. "Another one." Heero suckled on
Quatre's nipple as his middle finger slipped inside and he ground his erection
into the sensitive skin behind Quatre's balls, desperate for friction. He
pushed his fingers in, moaning as Quatre's body engulfed them. He slid them
out, and pressed them back in again, building up a steady rhythm. Quatre
keened, nearly sobbing. "Oh...Heero - oh! I'm ready."
Heero growled and pulled his fingers out, drizzling more oil onto his hand and
hurriedly coated his erection, too aroused to bother with any finesse. His cock
wanted inside that delightful body and nothing else was going to satiate it.
Quatre lifted himself up, his small hand wrapping around the turgid flesh,
positioning it against his opening. Heero's heart thumped frantically as the
tip of his penis made contact with the puckered skin. Then Quatre pressed down,
Heero's cock slipping inside and he hissed through his teeth as he was immersed
in dizzying pleasure that far surpassed all of his most potent fantasies. He
groaned brokenly as Quatre steadily lowered himself, his body swallowing the
entire length. He paused when his ass rested snugly on Heero's lap and Heero
nearly shouted when the blond tightened and released his inner muscles.
"Oh, God. Quat...you feel so good." He wasn't going to last. He already knew
that. Quatre's body felt like Heaven and Hell and Heero welcomed every
agonizing moment. He panted, his head spinning as Quatre rose up and then
lowered his hips again, rolling them on every downward stroke. Heero's eyes
drank in the sight of his beautiful husband, his skin flushed, his muscles
taut, hips undulating erotically. His erection bobbed up in front of him and
Heero wrapped his hand around it and tugged. Quatre uttered a soft moan, losing
his rhythm for a moment before he picked up the pace and began to bounce. 
Heero glanced down, cursing loudly as he watched his cock disappear into that
beautiful body and he couldn't resist the urge to reach between them, to touch
the place where they were joined. Quatre moaned, an emphatic, "Yes," and Heero
pushed his hips up, matching Quatre's movements with his own thrusts. He kept
his right hand wrapped around the blond's weeping erection and his left splayed
over Quatre's backside, his pinky finger feeling the erotic slide of his cock
as it was engulfed by the boy's body. 
Neither of them lasted long. They were far too worked up and Heero unleashed a
violent orgasm after watching Quatre come apart above him, dripping his seed
onto Heero's belly while the muscles of his ass contracted around the
Saian's cock. He held the boy when he flopped forward, his legs splayed out to
the sides as he panted on Heero's chest. Heero pulled his head up and captured
the swollen lips between his own and Quatre moaned into the kiss, his hips
still twitching with aftershocks. Heero's sated penis softened and he hissed as
it slipped out. He carefully maneuvered the blond onto his belly beside him,
checking his back over to make sure nothing had been torn open. Quatre huffed
against the bed.
"I'm fine. My back is fine."
"Just making sure." Heero rose up over him, scooting down to the deliciously
plump little ass and swiped his tongue over the still twitching opening,
tasting his own seed. Quatre yelped, his hips jerking upward, thighs spreading
open. "Heero! Oh- oh God!" Heero gave him a few more licks and pulled away,
savoring the sight of his husband, spread out and wrecked. He felt a smug sense
of pride that he'd been the one to cause the boy's debauchery. He reverently
pressed a kiss against the healing skin of Quatre's back, whispering, almost in
worship, "I'm so proud to be your husband." Quatre hummed happily as Heero laid
down beside him, pushing blond curls off his forehead. The blond's face was
smooshed against the bed and he gazed at Heero with eyes that were sated and
full of love.
"Thank you."
Heero kissed him. "Thank you. You were incredible. I never knew it could feel
that good."
Quatre's brows furrowed. "You've had bad experiences in the past?"
"I've had no experience in the past."
He almost laughed when the blond's eyes widened and his head lifted off the
bed. "You've never been with anyone before? I find that hard to believe."
"It's true. You're my first."
Quatre's eyes sparkled and he smiled. "I'm glad I could make your first time
good."
Heero pressed his thumb against the beautiful lips, grinning when Quatre's
teeth bit down gently. "It was wonderful."
He wished he could have stayed in bed all day with Quatre, but he had to leave
for Sai. His stomach churned as he got dressed, Quatre picking out a cream
colored tunica with light blue wraps that draped around his shoulders and
trailed down his back. He wound silver cuffs around his arms and stood still
when Quatre placed the silver circlet onto his head and then pecked a kiss onto
the tip of his nose. "You'll be fine." Heero was amazed at how in tuned they
were to each other, anticipating what the other was thinking, feeling. The
connection was heady, intimate, and Heero cherished it.
Heero sighed. "I hope you're right."
"I'm always right." Heero chuckled and swatted the blond's rump. 
Quatre helped him wrap the straps of the sandals around his ankles as he still
hadn't gotten the hang of that yet. There was a specific method to it and Heero
was still awkward and clumsy about the process. He excused himself for a moment
and sought out Trowa in his own chambers, prepared to face resentment as he was
sure the servant had heard them having sex. Trowa glared at him as he stepped
into the room and Heero hoped there wouldn't be another confrontation.
"I'm off."
"You needed to tell me this, why?"
"Because I want you to look after Quatre while I'm gone."
Trowa scoffed. "I always look after him. I don't need you to tell me to."
"You're right. I'm sorry. I just want to know he's safe."
"He's safer now than he's ever been. We got through many years without you
here. We can survive a few days of your absence."
Heero nodded, point taken. "Right. Well, I'll see you soon." He turned to
leave, not expecting a response and he didn't get one.
Quatre walked him down to the stables and prepared a stallion for his trip. He
patted the horse's flank and gave him a reassuring smile. "You be careful. I'll
miss you."
Heero hooked his arm around his husband's waist and pulled him close, dipping
his head to steal a kiss. "Be safe," he whispered. "I won't be long."
Quatre nodded and Heero placed his foot inside the stirrup and hoisted himself
up, gathering the reigns into his hands. He turned towards the east, where Sai
lay in wait and spurred the horse forward. He galloped across the castle
grounds and through the gates, unaware that General Treize had been watching,
waiting for his time to strike.
 
***
 
The peasants of the Syun and Long scattered like the four winds as the man in
Ghalian dress approached, but soon gathered around when they realized who it
was. Heero brought the stallion to the stables and dismounted, leaving the
horse to eat, drink, and rest. He patiently endured the reaching hands of his
people as they wept over him and thanked the gods for his return. They touched
him reverently, stroking their hands over the fine fabric of his tunica,
running their fingers over the cuffs on his arm. They asked him numerous
questions, each one putting him at more and more at ease. They didn't hate him.
They'd been worried about him. And they still loved him. He reassured them with
gentle smiles and honest words.
I am quite fine.
No, they didn't hurt me.
Yes, it was my choice.
I wish to protect our villages and this was the only way. 
No, the Prince of Ghali is nothing like the King. He is good. His wish is for
peace.
Yes. Yes, I love him.
His heart skipped when his father approached, Wufei and Duo in tow. Duo broke
into a run when he spotted Heero, flying into his arms when he opened them for
his friend. Duo wrapped himself around him, clinging for dear life and cursed
at him as he sobbed into his shoulder.
"You suicidal bastard! You had me worried sick."
Heero stroked the boy's long braid and smiled. "I'm alright, Duo." Duo pulled
back, looking into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Heero held
nothing back, let his friend see everything that was written across his face.
Duo breathed a sigh of relief, tears sliding down his cheeks. He lightly tapped
Heero's cheek in an imitation of a slap.
"I don't know what ever possessed you to do what you did." He sighed and shook
his head. "A Ghalian Prince. When Fei first told me, I couldn't believe it."
"I did what I had to do." He turned to the older man. "Hello, Father."
Odin was a man of high principles and low tolerance. He narrowed his eyes at
his son and shook his head. "You have a lot of nerve coming back here after
that stunt you pulled. What the Hell were you thinking?"
Heero swallowed hard, his heart sinking. "I'm sorry, Father. I saw a chance to
protect our people and I took it." He gazed at his sire, his eyes begging him
to understand. Odin stepped closer and Heero choked on his emotion when his
father wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his chest, whispering
against his cheek.
"Wufei told me everything. I'm proud of you, son."
Heero stifled a sob and buried his face into his father's chest. "Thank you.
Thank you. I was so afraid you wouldn't accept me."
"Don't be stupid, boy! You are and will always be my son, no matter how many
hare-brained ideas you have."
Heero huffed, the sound between a laugh and a sob and he held his father close,
smiling at Wufei over his shoulder. His friend shook his head at him.
"Just when I thought we'd finally gotten rid of you."
Heero couldn't suppress his laugh. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and
reached out for him, closing his eyes in joy when his friend's arms closed
around him. There was a distinct hitch in his voice when Wufei said, "I'm glad
you're okay."
"I'm better than okay."
"I'll say!" Duo grabbed his hands and spun him around. "Look at you! I think
you have Sai's entire fortune on you." 
He laughed. "Not quite, but close."
Duo tapped his chin. "Prince Heero. It has a nice ring to it."
"You think so?"
"Naw, not really."
Heero chuckled, nodding. "Okay. I'll give you that. I'm still getting used to
it myself."
"Well, come on in! What are we all standing out here for? Have you eaten? You
must be hungry after your trip." Duo grabbed his hand and pulled him towards
their cabin. "You haven't seen what we've done to the place lately. Fei started
making furniture again. He made me a new table and rebuilt the bed after we
broke - er...after it broke..." The excited boy continued to ramble on as he
dragged Heero into the house. He shot Wufei a helpless smile. It was good to be
home.
He was treated to probably the best meal he'd ever eaten and Duo preened with
the praise when Heero complimented his cooking. The pheasant was perfection and
the carrots and potatoes were sweet and savory, cooked with honey and
herbs. He'd missed Duo's food, Sai's unique blend of flavors. Ghalian food was
different, spicier. Heero liked it enough, but it wasn't the food of his home. 
Wufei passed around cups of wine and mulled cider and held his own up,
gesturing to Heero across the table with it.
"To Prince Heero. May we never know what bizarre situation you'll find yourself
in next."
"Hear hear," said Duo and tapped Wufei's cup with his own. Heero chuckled,
shaking his head as he took a drink, humming in satisfaction as he tasted the
notes of pine and cranberries. 
"You still make the best wine, Duo. Not even the vineyard in Ghali can top
yours."
A fetching blush bloomed across Duo's cheeks and he ducked his head. Heero
smiled as he watched Wufei affectionately tug his braid.
His father cleared his throat and leaned across the table, hands folded as he
tapped them against the wood. "So is this just a social visit?"
"Basically." Heero set his cup down. "I had to come back and see all of you.
Let you know what was going on." He hesitated, pushing down the anxiety in his
belly. He didn't know how they were going to react when he informed them of
what he was going to do. "I'm about to become King along with Prince Quatre."
Duo frowned. "Is the King ill?"
"No." He let the implications sink in and knew when they connected the dots.
Their eyes became so wide, Heero feared they would pop out of their sockets.
Duo's hand came up to cover his mouth. Wufei nearly spilled his cup of wine.
"Heero! You - you're going to -" his voice dropped several octaves.
"Assassinate the King?"
"I must. I am the only one who can get away with it."
"Do you even realize what you're saying?"
"I'm very aware of what I'm saying and I'm very aware of the magnitude of this
task."
Odin was calm, but Heero could see the flash of worry in his eyes. The older
man shook his head, his voice grave. "This is dangerous, Heero."
"It's even more dangerous if he is allowed to live. Dangerous for all of us.
When Quatre and I take the throne, there will be no more invasions on Sai, the
neutral territories, or the surrounding Kingdoms."
"But - if you get caught..." Duo trailed off, not knowing how to finish.
"Which is why I must act fast. We have support from the first Lieutenant and
many from the army. The King is away at the regional Summit, no
doubt pretending he wants peace between the nations," Heero snorted. "When he
returns, he will be tired from his travels. It will be the opportune time to
strike."
Wufei was dubious. "Please tell me Quatre knows about this."
Heero nodded. "Yes. He knows what must be done. Once it's finished, the throne
will be ours and we can begin working to bring peace to our kingdoms. While
King Zayeed and his men are still in power, no one is safe."
Odin's lips pressed together, his face grim. "You're talking about doing this
in the next couple of days."
"Yes. He returns tomorrow evening. I will stay tonight, but I must leave at
first light to prepare for his arrival."
Duo chewed nervously on his nails. "How will we know if you're successful?"
"I will send a message out to you once it's done. If you do not hear from me,
you will know things went badly."
Wufei reached over, placing a hand on Heero's shoulder, his eyes were solemn,
glittering in the light from the fire. "Please be careful."
Heero rested his hand on top of his friend's. "I will."
***** The Emalian *****
Trowa may not have been a soldier, but he had soldier instincts that had been
bred into him by his people. Emalians were a proud race that had painstakingly
selected their breeding stock over many centuries in order to create the
perfect fighting machines. They excelled in every jingoistic technique, their
bodies naturally developing the physique of a warrior. They were exceptionally
good at hand-to-hand combat and martial arts, the art of jousting, a close
second. The boys and the girls were trained from the time they could walk,
learning to perfect their fighting skills before they even reached puberty.
It was this dedication, this physical perfection, that had caught the eye of
the Ghalian rulers. They had been raiding the kingdom of Emali for the last two
hundred years, snatching the young men and women and recruiting them for their
own army. Many of the soldiers who returned to take the Emali children, were
stolen Emali children themselves, indoctrinated to believe in and uphold
Ghali's way of life.
Despite their fighting abilities and physical strength, Emalians were a
peaceful race. They did not believe in senseless violence and preferred
diplomacy over battle. It was what made them vulnerable to the invasion of the
Ghalian forces. The stolen children were converted, catechized, and
reconditioned to believe that the Ghalian way was the only way. It was part of
the reason the Ghalians were so formidable. 
A few years before young Emalians reached the age of maturity, the boys and
girls were paired off and eventually expected to wed and produce children that
would, in turn, be raised the same way. Trowa still remembered the young girl
he'd been paired with. Miidi was a rather demure girl, but she was quite pretty
and very sweet. They had become close friends during their time together and
Trowa loved her in his own way. They'd been put through the wedding ceremony
once they turned eleven and then ushered into a hut to mate. 
He remembered how terrified he'd been, especially when she disrobed and laid
down on the pallet, opening her legs in immediate submission as she was
expected to do. She'd smiled at him reassuringly, but he could see the
trepidation in her eyes. He had removed his own clothing and sat down beside
her, too shy to go any further. She took his hand and placed it over her barely
developed breasts. He remembered feeling the jolt of arousal, especially when
he glanced down between her legs. He remembered how it felt to touch her there,
his fingers sifting through her folds, feeling the increasing dampness as she
became aroused by his touch. He remembered how it felt to lay on top of her,
his hips nestled between her thighs. Remembered the hitch in her breath as he
pushed his penis into her, whimpering at how good she felt. 
He released his seed inside her and afterwards, he was collected from the hut
by the men who congratulated him with his first cup of ale. The women
congregated inside to bless the the girl and pray for conception.
They'd been only kids, but they were obligated to take on adult relationships
with little to no guidance. He remembered how relieved he'd been when he found
out their coupling had not resulted in a child. They were expected to mate
again and again until it happened and he wanted so badly to tell them no. That
he didn't want children. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. His
peers seemed eager to impregnate their females, but Trowa could only pray that
Miidi would never carry his child.
It was only a few months later when Ghalian forces raided their village again
and Trowa had been among those who were taken. He'd watched Miidi run after the
horse he was lifted onto, screaming his name with her arms stretched out, tears
streaming down her face. He was taken back to Ghali where he began the vigorous
training and indoctrination process. He was taught that Ghalians were the
chosen people and there was no pride like the pride of a Ghalian. He followed
along with the rhetoric, but deep inside, he knew it wasn't true, though saying
so would result in harsh punishment, or possibly extermination. For months, he
lived, ate, drank, and breathed Ghalian propaganda. 
It wasn't long after that that he'd begun to notice he tired more easily than
he used to. Needed to stop and catch his breath during his training sessions
and at one point, even collapsed in a dead faint after being worked for nearly
twelve hours straight. He woke up surrounded by physicians and the army then
Lieutenant, Treize Khushrenada, standing over him. He remembered listening to
them talk about him as if he wasn't even there. Remembered hearing something
about his heart being weak. That he was a liability the army couldn't afford
and the only 'humane' thing to do was to dispose of him quickly and cleanly.
He remembered feeling utterly dead inside. Worthless. His whole purpose for
living, taken away by a defect in his heart. Something he'd apparently been
born with. He remembered thinking,What good am I if I cannot fight? It's why I
exist. If I cannot fight, I am obsolete. He resigned himself to death, even
welcomed it. 
He'd been so shocked when a little blond boy ran into the room, shouting and
berating the men in a way that Trowa would never dare to do. He'd been so
frightened for the boy, afraid he was about to meet the same fate as himself
for his insolence. The child had literally climbed on top of him in a desperate
attempt to shield Trowa with his tiny body, tears streaming down his face as he
lashed out at the doctors, at Trowa's commanding officer. Trowa had been
touched by the boy's concern, although he felt it was misplaced. 
His fear for the boy's life quickly turned to shock when his Lieutenant had
simply lifted the child off of him and set him gently down onto the
floor. "Your Highness, you should not be in here."
Trowa's surprise quickly turned to confusion. Why had this boy, the Prince,
wanted to protect him? Him. It didn't make sense in Trowa's mind. But this
child, this Prince of Ghali, no older than he, had clung to his legs and wept,
begging for his life to be spared. 
Please, let me keep him! I'll take care of him!
Quatre, he is a boy, not a pet.
He's not going to be my pet, he's going to be my friend!
Quatre - 
Please! You can't hurt him. Please don't hurt him.
And to Trowa's surprise, the Lieutenant had relented. 
Alright, I will speak with your father. If he says it's okay, you may keep him.
Really?
But he will be your responsibility.
Oh, don't worry, I'll take good care of him. We'll become the best of friends,
won't we, boy?
And the rest was history. He'd been given the status of servant. Quatre hadn't
liked it, but it was the only option. Servitude, or death. Trowa had taken some
time to warm up to Quatre, but once he had, he couldn't bear being separated
from the young Prince. Their friendship grew into an unbreakable bond. He and
Quatre were never far away from each other for very long. They did everything
together and Trowa had redirected his life's mission from soldier to devoted
servant and companion.
He'd been somewhat saddened to discover he was the boy's only real friend.
Quatre was mostly isolated from the world outside and only really brought out
to serve his father's purposes. Quatre taught him to read and Trowa taught him
to spar with swords and staff. They invented intricate games to pass the time
and often came up with elaborate pranks to play on the other servants. When
Quatre wasn't required to dine with his father, he took their meals to Trowa's
chambers and they would often sneak down to the kitchens late at night to
snatch sweet pastries when the cooks weren't looking. 
Puberty had hit fast and furious and Trowa soon discovered his love and
affection for the Prince went far beyond friendship. His attraction to the boy
developed into intensely sexual feelings, especially as Quatre grew more and
more beautiful the older he got. Trowa was utterly spellbound by him, not only
by his appearance, but his relentless, fiery spirit. His convictions and his
compassion. By the time they were thirteen, Trowa was masturbating nightly to
thoughts of sex with Quatre, biting his lips to keep from moaning the Prince's
name when he spilled his seed all over himself. 
He was painfully jealous and infuriated when men were drawn to the Prince,
vying for his affections. He saw red when they put their hands on him, almost
always uninvited. They grabbed him, they groped him, and Quatre would come to
him late at night with tears in his eyes.
"They keep grabbing me, Trowa! Why? I don't want them to."
"I'm so sorry, Quat."
Quatre had buried his face in Trowa's chest and Trowa made a vow that he would
not allow those men to touch his beloved Prince. And he kept that promise,
sometimes even being forced to draw his blade when some men couldn't take no
for an answer. He'd been enraged when the King had done nothing about it, even
after Quatre had begged him to. 
Through years of ruthless pillaging, Lieutenant Treize was inevitably promoted
to General and when Quatre turned fifteen, he began turning his attention to
the boy. He forcefully courted him, scaring off many of his rivals. Trowa was
desperate to defend Quatre, but Treize posed a danger to him that no other man
had before. For the first time since this had begun, he was helpless to protect
Quatre and he had to watch as the General became more and more brazen with his
advances, often cornering the young Prince in dark corridors to fondle him. 
When their engagement was announced, Quatre had stormed into his chambers in a
furious rage, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cursed his father and the
General. Trowa opened his arms and Quatre immediately went to him. The embrace
led to a tentative kiss, then another more confident one. He'd rolled Quatre
beneath his body, encouraged and so aroused by the soft sigh of approval. He
slid his hands beneath the silk of Quatre's tunica, touching that skin for the
first time in the way he'd been dreaming about. He stroked up a smooth leg,
lifting the skirt as he went. Quatre whimpered as he was bared and opened his
legs, all wanton and surrender. 
Trowa brought him to the brink of ecstasy when he buried his face between those
creamy thighs and sucked him into his mouth. He pressed his fingers into the
tiny opening and savored the soft moans and when neither of them could no
longer stand it, he coated his erection with oil, draped himself over the boy,
and slid deep inside him. He treasured the shaky breaths, the legs that wrapped
around his waist as he rolled his hips, fucking him with gentle tenderness. He
kissed the teary corners of Quatre's eyes as his cock touched the boy in places
that made him see stars. Trowa buried his face into the soft throat, sucking
the sweet skin into his mouth as Quatre trembled beneath him, panting through
his orgasm. 
They made love quite a few times after that, learning each other's bodies,
exploring what they liked, trying different and adventurous positions. Quatre
was always willing with Trowa and he knew the Prince savored the ability to
explore his sexuality on his own terms. 
During that time, Treize became more and more aggressive and while Quatre
didn't say anything about it, Trowa knew he was terrified. Terrified of what he
would be subjected to when he was forced to marry the General. Two months
before the wedding, Quatre had confided in him. 
"I fear we may not have much time left together."
Trowa's heart had skipped painfully. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going to be married soon. He will not want us to be together. I don't know
what he'll do when he takes the throne."
"But, you'll be King!"
"I'm not sure he's going to allow me that."
Trowa hadn't understood what he meant until a few days later when
he was approached by Treize himself. The man never paid him much mind once he'd
become a servant unless it was to send him a condescending sneer.
He was stopped in the corridor on his way to meet Quatre in the courtyard for
their sparring lesson. Treize blocked his way, his eyes narrowed into slits. "I
know you fuck him."
Trowa was stunned by the bluntness and the vulgarity. "Excuse me?"
Treize leaned forward, his face hovered an inch from Trowa's. "I know you fuck
that sweet little body of his. I know he lets you. You will no longer be
allowed to do that once we are married. You will no longer be allowed to see
him, speak to him, touch him, and you most certainly will not be allowed to
fuck him."
Fear settled into his bones, but Trowa defiantly lifted his chin and spoke with
a confidence he did not feel. "Quatre can choose what he wants."
"No. That's where you're wrong, boy. Quatre belongs to me. I choose for him."
Trowa narrowed his eyes, rage simmering beneath his skin. "You have no right to
do this."
Treize smiled and placed his mouth next to Trowa's ear, whispering, "I have
every right. And if you ever lay a hand on him once we are wed, or if you dare
try to step between us, to interfere, I will have your throat cut from ear to
ear. If you do as you're told, you will be sent on your way back to Emali. If
you don't, I will kill you myself." He stepped around Trowa and strode down the
hallway, leaving the servant frozen, shaking with fury.
Trowa was going to kill him. Only two more days to go. He was going to enjoy
watching his blade sink into the man's chest, piercing that rotted heart. Savor
the look of shock in those vicious eyes when he dropped to his knees, the blood
bubbling from between twitching lips. Trowa would be the last thing he saw
before darkness took him forever.
The plan was set in place and all Trowa had to do was wait for the right
moment. Treize would fight him. He was counting on that. Trowa had been
preparing for it for months and he would savor every moment of it. Treize would
fight, but he would not win. And he would never be able to hurt Quatre again.
He walked through the castle with a new sense of purpose though he was still
angry about the sounds he'd heard this morning in Quatre's chambers. He was
furious that Heero had taken him while his back was still healing and he was
damned lucky Quatre hadn't injured it further. He knew much of it was jealousy.
It was quite obvious that Quatre had enjoyed it and it rankled on Trowa's
nerves.
He hated to admit it, but he had a grudging respect for Heero. He envied him.
He had everything Trowa had ever wanted. Soon, the two of them would take the
throne. Trowa didn't know what would happen to him then. Didn't know if he'd be
allowed to still be with Quatre. Though, if his instincts about Heero were
right, then he was a good man and Trowa felt a little more at ease about his
future with the Saian at the helm.
He'd expressed his worry to Quatre that morning after Heero had left for Sai.
He helped Quatre out of the bath, slid a rose colored tunica over his head and
led him over to the dressing table to touch up the boy's curls. He watched him
in the mirror as he placed the circlet on his head, noting the otherwordly glow
the Prince had about him. Did Quatre glow after Trowa made love to him? He
strangely couldn't remember.
"Are you sure about him? He just -" He paused when Quatre slapped a spiral cuff
over his arm and looked up at him sharply. "He could have hurt your back."
"Trowa," the blond admonished gently. "I talked him into it. If you must blame
someone, blame me."
"Still, he should have waited -"
"Trowa, I love you, but I'm really not comfortable discussing my sex life with
Heero to you."
That had hurt and it showed. Quatre blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry. That
was rude of me."
"I just don't want you to get hurt."
"I know you don't. And he won't hurt me."
"You really love him, don't you?"
The blond nodded. "Yes. I believe I do."
Trowa's eyes misted over and Quatre turned around, cupping his face. "And I
love you. I will always love you and I will always cherish what we have."
"What will happen to me after this?"
"You will have choices and freedoms granted to you that you've never had once I
gain the throne."
Trowa sniffled, his eyes widening. "Freedom?"
Quatre smiled. "Yes. You were forced into servitude and I had no power to stop
that. As soon as I have that power, you will be free."
Trowa's heart thumped against his rib cage. "But...I want to be with you!"
"You can stay if you want, Trowa. I'm not going to send you away. But you will
be a free man to come and go as you please. And if you do choose to leave, you
will be free to go." Quatre's eyes teared up when he said that. It hurt to say
it, but Quatre loved him too much to force him to stay with him.
Trowa pressed their lips together, whispered against them, "I will never leave
you."
Quatre's mouth curled up, the tiny dimples appearing in his cheeks. "I would
love it if you stayed, but it will be your choice."
Maybe someday, Trowa would be comfortable with leaving, but for now, he
intended to stay, even if it was only to make sure Heero behaved himself. He
had the sense that there was nothing to worry about, but he needed to be sure
his Quatre was safe. The concept of freedom was frightening. He couldn't
remember a time he'd ever been free, not even in Emali. To be his own man, to
make his own decisions was quite daunting, but it did open up possibilities and
opportunities he'd never had before. 
He rounded a corner, slowing down slightly as his senses piqued. He looked
behind him, realizing that the hallway that should have been full of servants
scurrying back and forth, was empty. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts, he
hadn't noticed that the usually bustling corridor was ominously silent. He was
never a soldier, but he had the instincts. That was why he was furious with
himself when he'd missed the signs that something was off. By the time he
figured it out, it was too late. He dropped, his head spinning, edges of his
vision turning black from a sharp crack to the head. Another hit brought him
down to the floor and he only had time for a fleeting thought before he lost
consciousness.
Quatre...
***** Enslavement *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter contains rape/noncon and forced orgasm.
Quatre sat down on a ledge in the courtyard and basked in the sunlight on his
skin while he waited for Trowa so they could practice the Swarli dance for
Heero's upcoming coronation. It was an ancient style, dating back to the mating
dances of the first Ghalians. It was slow and sensual and never failed to work
Quatre into a heady arousal when Trowa stood behind him, the servant's muscled
chest against his back as he held his arms out and swayed to the music. Their
dance sessions frequently led to incredible sex. He and Trowa scurrying back to
his chambers, often too impatient to disrobe and make their way to the bed.
Quatre would find himself pushed against the wall, his cheek pressed into the
plaster as Trowa lifted the skirt of his tunica. He would quickly and clumsily
prepare the way and slide inside, his chest heaving against Quatre's back. 
His father was away at the Summit which made for a less formal atmosphere
around the castle and Quatre readily enjoyed the slightly more relaxed
environment. He had a little more freedom and less rigorous structure. The King
would be back tomorrow evening. Heero would return in the morning and together,
they would wait for the opportune moment to strike.
Despite his apprehension of what was to come in the coming days, he felt good.
Elated and confident that everything would work according to plan. He had the
utmost faith in Heero and in Trowa. He still couldn't believe he'd said he
loved Heero, but it was true and he owed Trowa nothing short of complete
honesty. It felt strange being in love with someone he'd really only just met.
He still didn't know if Heero loved him back, but even if he didn't, Quatre
hoped, with time, he would. 
He knew it was hurting Trowa and it broke his heart. He was the last person
he'd ever want to hurt. It was confusing, to say the least. But he was
steadfast in his determination to be a good husband to Heero. The Saian was
honorable, gentle, and kind. His beauty was exotic, from the dark hair, to his
golden skin, to the sharp blue eyes that could just as easily melt as they
could intimidate. He wondered how things were going for him back at his
village. He prayed that Heero would be accepted back into the arms of his
family and friends. He deserved that. He wondered how he would be received when
he finally met them. It probably wouldn't be an easy task to learn to trust a
Ghalian, but he hoped he would be able to earn it.
His musings were interrupted when he heard the sound of footsteps fast
approaching and spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his
head just as Treize stopped in front of him and Quatre barely had time to even
stand up before he was struck across the face with the back of the man's hand.
His cheek exploded with pain, the delicate skin splitting beneath the powerful
impact and he tipped over backwards, falling off the ledge and nearly snapping
his neck. He groaned and rolled onto his side. Treize rounded the edge of the
wall and grabbed his hair. Quatre hissed in pain as his head was wrenched up,
hands scrabbling to pry the rigid fingers out of his hair. Treize crouched down
until his face was level with Quatre's own. There's was a flash of teeth as
his lip curled.
"Hello, beloved. May I have this dance?"
Quatre yelped as he was lifted up and thrown over the man's shoulder. He hung
upside down, the blood from his cheek dripping onto the ground. He yelled and
hollered and screamed, banging his fists on the General's back, his legs
kicking as he was carried into the castle. 
"Let me go, you vile, twisted -"
"I would advise you to keep your mouth shut from now on, Your Highness. Things
are about to go from bad to worse for you."
"This is an outrage! I command you to put me down. When my father hears about
this -"
"Your father?" Treize laughed. "He's the one that gave me the authority, or
have you forgotten the last six months? When he returns, he will find out about
your little plan to do away with him, and me, I might add. Sufficed to say, he
will be quite disappointed in you, Quatre."
He froze, his heart speeding up. Treize had discovered their plan. But how?
"Oh, yes. You have gotten yourself into quite a spot of trouble, my young
Prince. You and your servant."
Quatre gasped at the mention of Trowa and struggled harder. "What have you done
to him? Where is he? So help me if you've hurt him -"
"You are in no position to make threats, my dear. Your pathetic servant is just
fine. For now. But he will be executed for his treason."
"No," Quatre breathed. "No, please! You can't hurt him, please don't hurt him!"
"I think you might want to worry about yourself, beloved."
Quatre recognized the route they were taking through the corridors, realized
where they were going. It could only mean bad things for him. "No! Let me go,
please. I'm sorry!"
"It's too late for that."
Quatre fought against him, kicked against his chest, pounded on his back, but
his efforts were fruitless. He hung on Treize's shoulder, limp with resignation
as he was carried into the General's chambers. He groaned with helpless rage
when he noticed the chains clamped around the bedposts. Treize threw him down
onto the bed and Quatre immediately rolled over, trying to crawl away. Treize
grabbed his legs and yanked him back, climbing onto the bed, draping himself
over the Prince.
"Please don't do this. Please just let me go."
Treize didn't answer. He grabbed a bony wrist and encircled the steel cuff
around it and did the same with his other wrist. Quatre's arms were stretched
over his head and he pulled on the chains, twisting his wrists in a desperate
attempt to get free. The cuffs were far too tight. He'd never be able to get
his hands through them. 
The General's hands traveled over his body, sliding up beneath the tunica. He
pulled aside the front wrapping that covered his chest and sucked a nipple into
his mouth. Quatre turned his head away and bit his lip, trying not to make a
sound as the long skirt of his tunica was lifted, baring his lower body. He
pressed his legs together in a vain attempt to cover himself and spoke through
clenched teeth.
"Heero is going to have your head for this."
Treize huffed a soft laugh against his chest, his hand sliding between Quatre's
thighs. He tensed as the calloused palm cupped his groin. He had to bite down
on his tongue as the deceitfully gentle touch sent sparks of electricity
throughout his body and he mentally begged his cock not to harden. The
General pushed the fabric of his tunica up over his belly and trailed soft
kisses onto the twitching muscles of his abdomen.
"He will not be allowed back into the kingdom," Treize murmured against his
skin.
"You can't do that! He is Ghalian royalty!"
"He is an outsider and does not belong with us."
"The law -" He was interrupted as Treize laughed again. 
"You overestimated your father's principles. He has no regard for the laws of
the monarchy. He will thank me for taking this matter into my own hands. He
will enjoy washing his hands of this sham of a marriage." His mouth reached
Quatre's groin and he buried his face between the trembling thighs, emitting
lustful groans against the boy's creamy skin. 
Quatre's hips jolted from the vibrations and he desperately tried to stall him.
It was all he could do. "You won't get away with this."
"Who's going to stop us? Stop me?" Treize nipped at the skin of his inner
thigh. "Your servant is in the dungeons. Heero will die the moment he steps
foot into Ghali. Your father will render your marriage worthless -"
"We were married by an Imam!"
"And your friend, Rashid, is also facing execution. For ignoring the King's
wishes and breaking our betrothal is tantamount to treason."
"The people will never stand for the murder of a holy man."
"The people are nothing but a bunch of mindless fools who will believe whatever
they are told." He huffed a breath over Quatre's cock, smiling as it twitched
and began to swell. "You're becoming aroused."
"I am not."
"You are. As for you, my beloved betrothed. Our marriage will commence as
scheduled and you will spend the rest of your days submitting yourself to me."
"I will never submit to you."
"But, you will. You already have." Treize opened his mouth and swallowed the
boy's cock and Quatre gritted his teeth, tears gathering in the corners of his
eyes as the unwanted pleasure filled him with a warmth he despised. He turned
to hide his face into his arm, flushing with shame as his thighs were pushed
apart and shoved up to his chest. His stomach lurched as Treize's mouth
traveled down to tongue his opening.
"I hate you so much." Quatre said brokenly. 
Treize lifted up, pressing his hips into the space between his legs. Quatre
clenched his eyes shut as the tip of the man's erection rubbed over his
entrance and bit down on his lips when Treize pressed forward, breaching him.
He hooked the boy's legs over his arms and thrust in, his hips flush against
the Prince's ass. Quatre refused to shout, refused to cry. He endured the rape
in silence just as he had his whipping. Treize growled into his ear, making his
hair stand on end.
"I'm going to make you scream."
Quatre shook his head, digging his teeth into his tongue. He gasped
involuntarily as a calloused palm closed around his cock and his back
arched when Treize deliberately angled his erection to brush against the place
inside him that made his body sing with pleasure. He kept up the assault
against that sensitive spot and Quatre thrashed his head, in frenzied denial as
he felt his body climbing higher and higher towards an orgasm he didn't want.
It was the ultimate humiliation. Becoming aroused and climaxing from his own
rape. Treize grinned at him, shark-like, driven now to see his beautiful
concubine come all over himself at his subjugation. He leaned down and suckled
on a tiny nipple, grinding his cock against the boy's prostate and he closed
his eyes in bliss when Quatre unleashed an ear-piercing scream and ejaculated.
The contractions of the boy's sinfully tight ass rippled around his cock and he
pressed himself in all the way and climaxed deep inside him, claiming him for
his own. 
He caught his breath, his spent cock vibrating with pleasure as he pulled it
out and lowered the boy's shaking legs onto the bed. They flopped limply to the
sides and Treize watched his own seed drip from the stretched opening. Quatre's
head was turned to the side, his eyes distant, far away. The porcelain skin of
his wrists was already beginning to redden beneath the cuffs. It was the most
erotic sight Treize had ever seen and he knew the beauty of it would be burned
onto the backs of his eyelids for years to come.
He climbed off the bed and dressed himself, tucking his satiated cock back into
his trousers. Quatre remained motionless and silent, his tunica rucked up
around his waist, his legs splayed open carelessly, his seed cooling on his
belly. Treize grasped the boy's chin and turned his head, looking into dull,
sightless eyes. He captured Quatre's lips between his own, pushing his tongue
into the boy's mouth. Still no reaction. He smirked and breathed against the
pliant mouth, "I have duties to attend to, but I will be back soon, my beloved.
I look forward to becoming even more...acquainted with your body." Quatre
didn't respond, not even a flicker of his eyes. Treize walked to the door,
pausing and looking over his shoulder at the debauched, degraded Prince. The
boy appeared limp, lifeless, as if he was already broken. He smiled and left
the room, closing the door behind him.
He felt on top of the world as he swaggered through the long, winding hallways
and down the stairs, a decided spring in his step as he reached the dungeons.
Trowa was in the last cell at the far end of the corridor. The light from the
torches did not reach that corner and Treize could barely make out the huddled
form in the murky darkness. He stepped up to the bars, squinting to make out
the faint outline of Trowa's legs, pulled up to his chest.
"Are you still alive?"
No answer. Treize lifted his chin. "I'm here to inform you that your trial will
begin at dawn -"
"Why even bother?" Came the almost muted reply.
"Excuse me?"
"You're going to find me guilty no matter what and you're going to execute me.
Why even bother with the pretense of a trial?" The servant's head lifted and
even though Treize could not make out his expression, he knew the boy was
glaring at him. 
"Ghalians are a lawful people and we do things according to -"
"Horse dung."
Treize bristled. "Do you deny that you were plotting to kill me?"
Trowa was quiet for a moment and Treize thought he wasn't going to answer.
"No."
"What?"
"I said, no. I do not deny it."
"That's what I thought -"
"And I am going to kill you."
Treize lifted his lip in a sneering grin. "While I admire your diligence, you
are sadly mistaken."
"Where's Quatre?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Does it matter? It's not as if there's anything I can do about it. So, where
is he?"
Treize leaned forward smiling like the cat that got the cream, intent on
provocation. "In my chambers, chained to my bed."
There was a pause, then a soft growl. "You sick, twisted bastard."
Treize leaned back on his heels, bouncing slightly as he grinned at the
prisoner. "At any rate, you will be dead in less than two days and so will
Prince Heero once he tries to step foot inside Ghali. In seven days, Quatre and
I will be married. On our wedding night, I will dispose of the King and take
the throne for myself. Your beloved Quatre will spend the rest of his days in
servitude as my concubine."
Trowa husked out a derisive laugh. "You're delusional. It'll never happen."
Treize cocked his head. "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm still going to kill you."
He smirked. "However you need to entertain yourself to pass the time, I
suppose. It's no matter. Your final days are upon you."
"I will take you down with me."
"Threats will do you no favors."
"It's not a threat. It's a promise. If I die, I will take you with me. If I
don't die, I will still kill you."
Treize tried to ignore the tiny jolt of uncertainty at the tone in the
servant's voice. It wasn't just anger, or the wish for vengeance. There was
truth in that voice. Like he knew what was going to happen. Treize faltered,
just briefly, and covered it up with his usual bravado. 
"Only in your dreams, boy. Savor this night and the next. For they will be your
last." He turned on his heel and left the dungeon. The King was due to arrive
tomorrow evening and Treize was looking forward to sharing with him the new
developments. He would be thrilled to know that Treize had thwarted the coup.
He'd also brought his wayward son under a firm hand, as commanded. Quatre would
no longer be a problem.
In a week, they would be married and Treize would continue with his plan to
kill the King and take his place at the throne. Soon, all of Ghali would bow at
his feet. He could smell the victory in the air. Taste the power, now within
reach. Once the deed was done, he would celebrate with his men, indulging on
wine and whores until the early hours of morning, then return to his chambers
to be with his beautiful Prince and relay the news that his father was gone.
There wasn't much love lost between the two. The real pain would be knowing
that there was no hope. His servant and his fly-by-night husband both dead and
his true husband, the General-turned-King with the entire kingdom at his
fingertips.
Quatre had a long stretch of training ahead of him, learning the submissive
ways of a concubine, but learn he would. He would fight as he was wont to do,
but he would inevitably succumb knowing he had no ground to stand on, no one to
turn to. And when he was ready, he would be brought out to kneel before the
kingdom, not as their Prince, but as the King's slave. The jewels of his bonds,
shining as brightly as the jewels of his tears as he was forced to the floor,
his beautiful body scantily clad so that there would be no question what his
true purpose was. He would sit silently and obediently at his King's, his
Master's feet and rest his head upon Treize's thigh, closing his eyes as the
King stroked his hair. And at night, he would lie in Treize's bed and open
those lovely legs in supplication, sobbing in pleasure as his Master took him. 
Treize's dominion was almost at hand. Within the week, the thorns in his side
would be eliminated. There was just one more he needed to tend to. He walked
the corridors to the wing of the castle where the elite members of the army
resided. He knocked on one of the doors and waited patiently. It opened only
slightly, a pale blue eye peeking out at him. Treize smiled as the eye widened
and then the door swung open.
"General," the surprise in his Lieutenant's voice was clearly evident. No, not
surprise. Fear. The Lieutenant's voice shook with it. General Treize was not
known to make house calls. "What can I do for you, Sir?"
Treize gestured a hand inside, flashing white teeth in cheerful greeting. "May
I come in, Lieutenant?"
Zechs shifted uneasily. "W - well...my wife -"
"Oh, don't worry, Zechs," he said, his voice syrupy. "This concerns her, too."
The Lieutenant's face paled. Treize could see his pulse pounding beneath the
skin of his neck. Quick like a jack rabbit. "Sir?"
"Now, now, Zechs. Don't play me for a fool. I know full well what you've been
up to and you know full well what would happen if you ever betrayed me.
Now...let me in. We have much to discuss."
Zechs' eyes were pleading. "Please, Sir. Do what ever you want to me, but
please do not hurt my wife. I beg you."
Treize grinned and cocked his head. His voice was soft but laced with deadly
threat. "Are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to force my way in?"
***** Retribution *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter contains attempted rape.
Quatre waited several minutes until he was sure the General was gone, then
turned onto his side, shimmying up the bed until he was able to sit. He spat
into his hand and rubbed the saliva over his opposite wrist, trying to
lubricate the area before twisting his hand, bringing all of his fingers
tightly into his palm to make it as small as possible. He wrenched and pulled,
ignoring the pain as he desperately tried to free himself. He had to get to
Trowa. Had to find Zechs and figure out what they were going to do now. He was
not going to allow Treize and his men to kill his husband. 
The skin on his wrist chaffed beneath the steel as he rotated it back and
forth. He got it lodged tightly over the heel of his hand, but the widest part
would not slip through. He spat into his hand again and pulled with all his
might.
"Come on...come on!"
He could feel the skin of his hand tearing and peeling beneath the cuff, the
blood lubricating the way even more. He twisted his wrist again and yanked
roughly, his hand slipping free and he went to work on the other. It took
longer than the first, but he eventually got it out. He climbed off the bed and
rummaged through the wardrobe, pulling out a linen shirt. He used it to wipe
his own seed off his groin and clean the General's seed from between his legs.
He tore the sleeves off, wrapped them around his bloody wrists and crept to the
door, placing his ear against it. He couldn't hear any movement, or sounds so
he cautiously turned the handle and peered through the tiny gap. He could see a
guard stationed outside the door and he quickly and silently closed it again,
glancing around for something to use as a weapon.
He spotted the General's knife on top of the dressing table and grabbed it,
tiptoeing back to the door. He opened it again and crept up behind the guard.
He aimed the knife to slide between the gaps in the armor and without taking
too much time to contemplate what he was about to do. If he did, he would
probably hesitate. He plunged the knife into his back, the blade sinking
through the flesh and piercing a lung. The guard hissed, his back arching,
knees bending. Quatre used the leverage of his position to place a hand against
the man's forehead, the other at the back of his head and braced himself.
"I'm sorry."
And then he twisted the guard's head, flinching when he heard and felt the snap
of his neck. The guard dropped to the floor, dead before he hit it and Quatre
stood over him, panting, almost unable to believe what he'd just done. He
wrapped his hands around the guard's ankles and pulled him into Treize's
chambers, huffing at the heavy weight. He propped him against the bed and then
swung his legs up, pushing at the body until it laid across it. He rolled him
over just enough to pull the knife back out, then let him fall back into place.
Quatre wiped the blood on the bed covers and ran back to the door, pulling it
open and slipping out. He kept his eye out for any sign of more guards. It
looked like the coast was clear.
He scaled the wall, quickly ducking into a room and hiding behind an old
bookcase when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He waited until they
faded into the distance and came out from behind his hiding place. 
He made it to Zechs' chambers without incident and hurriedly knocked, glancing
around to make sure no one was coming. The door swung open and he was met with
Lucrezia's teary, frightened gaze. She ushered him in quickly and shut the
door.
"Y - Your Highness, you musn't be here. If they find you - find us -" She
looked down at the cloth tied around his wrists and gasped. "What happened to
you?"
"Miss Noin, where is Zechs?"
"General Treize has arrested him. He wants to put him on trial for treason.
They're going to execute him! Treize - he threatened to kill me and the baby
and Zechs begged him not to. Told him he could do anything he wanted to him as
long as he didn't hurt me and the baby...I've been put on house arrest. I
cannot leave this room, or they will kill me."
Quatre cursed, dragging his hands through his hair. "Okay, I want you to do as
you're told and just stay here. If they find me in here, it will be bad for
both of us, so I cannot stay."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure yet. I have to find a way to get to Trowa and Zechs. Get them out
of the dungeons. Somehow, I have to warn Heero of what will be waiting for him
when he arrives."
"The dungeons will be guarded."
"I know. It's not going to be easy. They probably won't fall for the same trick
twice." 
"Let me help you."
"Miss Noin, no. Please promise me you'll stay here. If anything went wrong, I'd
never forgive myself."
Noin gave him a knowing look. "He hurt you. Didn't he?"
Quatre nodded. "But I'm going to make sure he doesn't hurt me, or anyone else
ever again. But for the sake of the baby, I beg you to stay here." He took her
hands. "Promise me."
She sighed, but relented. "I promise."
"Hopefully this will all be over soon." He crept out the door, stealthily
moving down the hallway. Noin watched him for a moment through the crack in the
door, wishing she could do something to help him. 
Quatre got close to the dungeons, ducking and hiding wherever he could when
anyone got close. He clung to the shadows like a life line, his hand wrapped
around the hilt of the blade as he reached the door to the dungeons, flanked by
two guards. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows.
"Halt!"
Quatre stopped. His hand holding the knife behind his back. He turned his
biggest, most sorrowful eyes on them. "Please."
"Prince Quatre - Your Highness! You must not be here. The General -"
"Has gone rogue. He wishes to kill my father when he returns." These guards
were simply grunts. They would not be in on Treize's plan to usurp the
monarchy. Their eyes widened and they glanced at each other and Quatre realized
his instincts were correct. They knew nothing about it.
"Your Highness...you must be mistaken -"
"He wants to kill your King and enslave me." He held out his free hand, the
cloth wrapped around it red with his blood. "He chained me to his bed and raped
me. I am a married man."
"My Prince - you - he -"
"Do you realize how badly it reflects on you if you allow him to get away with
this? When the King returns, what do you think he'll do when he learns that the
General, your General, defied the laws?"
They looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Does the King not sanction this?"
"The King does not sanction breaking the rules of the monarchy. You know this.
If you do not let me through, I will see to it that you are arrested for
defying my orders. I am second in command, not the General."
"But...the General - he will -"
"He is a dangerous man who is Hell-bent on seizing the throne and bringing the
great kingdom of Ghali to its knees. Do you want that? Do you want to continue
living in constant fear of his wrath? Do you really want him to become King?"
They glanced at each other again, then back at him. "What do you want us to
do?"
"Let me through. Let me release your Lieutenant and my servant so that we can
set this right. I must get someone out to Prince Heero in Sai. I must warn him
of the danger he faces when he returns."
"Danger?"
"Yes. The General is planning on killing him. Would you condone the murder of a
Ghalian Prince? Would you condone the execution of an Imam? Or of your
Lieutenant?"
"Your Highness...this is very dangerous. He could kill us all if he -"
"What do you think will happen when he takes the throne?"
The guards shifted uneasily and Quatre knew he'd gotten them. While they may
have followed Treize's orders, they did not like him. They knew what a vile,
vicious man he was. And they most certainly did not want him at the helm,
ruling Ghali with fear and violence.
Quatre stepped forward, his voice gentle, reassuring. "Do not tell him that I
came here. You saw nothing. No one. I will not report you if you let me do what
needs to be done to make sure he does not seize power. Please," he took another
step. "Let me through."
They hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. One guard turned towards the
door and opened it, pulling the key ring from his belt. "Please be careful, my
Prince. If you get caught - if we get caught -"
"I know full well the consequences of not succeeding, believe me." He took the
keys and looked up at the guard as he passed him through the door. "Thank you.
I will not forget this."
The guard bowed, expression humble. "Thank you, Your Highness."
He slipped through the door, heard the click as it closed behind him, and
started down the stairs. It wouldn't be long before Treize discovered he was
gone. The dead guard in his place. He had to act quickly. He reached the
dungeons and peered into each cell. He spotted Zechs immediately and
leaned against the bars, whispering, "Zechs."
The Lieutenant jumped up quickly, his shock evident on his face. "Your
Highness!"
"Be quiet. I'm going to get you out of here. We don't have much time." He slid
the key in the lock and pushed the door open, cringing at the slight screech.
Zechs came out, looking grateful, but worried. 
"My wife..."
"She's fine. Stuck in your chambers, but she's fine."
"Are you?" He looked down at Quatre's wrists.
"I am fine." Quatre dismissed his concern. He walked further down,
spotted Rashid in his cell and unlocked the door. The holy man stood up and
bowed. 
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"Don't thank me yet." He scaled the rest of the cells until he reached the end.
Trowa was already standing at the bars having heard them coming. He leaned his
head against them and Quatre pressed their foreheads together. "Are you okay?"
"Are you?Your wrists..."
"They're fine. I will be once this is over." He unlocked the door and Trowa
stepped out, taking Quatre's hands in his, peeling the cloth from his wrists
and wincing at the torn and swollen skin.
"What did he do to you?"
Quatre shrugged. "What he's always trying to do."
Trowa cursed and pulled him into his arms. Quatre allowed it for a moment, then
pulled away.
"I need to bandage those properly."
"No time for that right now. We need weapons." He turned to Zechs. "I need to
you to get some swords. We're going to be in for a fight. I hope you're up for
it because this ends tonight."
Zechs bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. I'm with you." 
"And try not to get caught," Quatre said to his retreating back.
Trowa was still looking over his wrists, his voice hushed. "How did you get
down here?"
"The guards opened the door for me."
"What did you tell them?"
"The truth." He turned to Rashid. "Go back to your Mosque and lay low. If all
goes well, this should be over by tomorrow evening."
"With all due respect, Your Highness, I am going to fight with you."
Quatre looked uneasy, but he nodded his head. "Alright. We've got to get our
hands on some weapons. All I have is this knife. I'm afraid it won't do much
good."
"How many men are we talking here?"
"I'm not sure how many of them are irrevocably on his side. I know there are
some who are not, but I can't tell you how many. I guess we'll find out soon
enough."
They walked back down the corridor. Trowa glanced over at Quatre. "Do you
remember what I taught you?"
Quatre shot him an incredulous look. "Of course I do!"
They reached the door and Quatre knocked softly. It swung open and he sucked in
a sharp breath at Treize's angry face. He was flanked by his men on both sides.
Behind them, the guards lay dead on the floor. Treize's eyes were murderously
cold, malignant as his lip curled. "You are in a heap of trouble now, my
beloved."
Trowa stepped in front of Quatre, his fists raised. "You will not touch him."
Treize lifted a brow and turned to the side, gesturing to his men. "Take care
of this." Trowa swung as the soldiers reached for him, employing all of his
fighting skills. He punched and kicked, easily evading their strikes and taking
a few of them down. But he was outnumbered as there were close to a dozen
soldiers. He inevitably took a few hits to the face and head and stumbled,
losing his footing. Rashid was also taken down, though it wasn't easy with his
bulk. He was incapacitated by a hit to the head from the hilt of a sword and
Quatre lunged at the soldier who raised his weapon to kill the holy man, the
blade of his knife sinking into the man's side. The solider screamed in pain
and shoved him. He stumbled backwards, caught by Trowa who righted him back on
his feet and swung him out of their grasps. Trowa got a few more hits in before
he was overpowered. He shouted in rage as his legs were swept out from under
him and he hit the ground hard. He glanced up at Quatre, desperation in his
eyes. "Get out of here! Run!"
But Quatre wasn't going anywhere. He charged Treize, his knife hand intent on
the man's chest. Treize grabbed his wrist before it could make contact and
twisted it. The pain of his injuries enough to loosen his grip on the blade.
Treize spun him around, pulling the boy's back against his chest and pinned his
flailing arms to his sides. "Bring him to my chambers," he barked at the
solders as he dragged the struggling Prince along.
Quatre kicked and screamed furiously as he was dumped back onto the bed. He
scrambled up, frantically trying to avoid being chained as he struggled against
the General. He was struck across the face, hard enough to leave him dazed and
he groaned, disoriented as the cuffs clamped over his wrists. Treize grabbed
his face, turning his head to face him. 
"I grow tired of this. You will learn your place and you will bow to your new
King. I will keep you chained as long as necessary, but I will break you."
Quatre spat in his face, his eyes alight with the spark of hatred. Treize wiped
the saliva off his cheek and snarled. "You are going to regret that." Quatre
glared balefully at him and said nothing. The soldiers brought Trowa into the
room. He was bloody and beaten and Quatre's heart pounded, praying he wasn't
badly hurt. Treize snapped at his men. "Put him in the chair and chain him." He
turned back to Quatre, mouth curling in a smirk. "He's going to be treated to
quite a show."
Quatre's eyes widened. Treize was going to make Trowa watch as the General
raped him. He clenched his teeth. "You bastard!" 
"Quiet, slave."
"I am still the Prince!" He shouted, rousing Trowa. He jumped and looked up,
glancing around and Quatre's heart clenched as he caught sight of the bruises
and swelling on his face, wanting so badly to go to him. The servant's eyes met
his and they darkened in agony when he realized the situation. 
Treize said nothing to Quatre's outburst, turning to he men instead. "You are
free to go, or you may watch. I really do not care." He shucked his clothing,
pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. He unbuckled his
belts and fished his erection out. Quatre glanced at the soldiers. A few had
left, but the rest remained and his stomach churned at the dark gleam in some
of their eyes. He caught the gaze of one young Sergeant, noticed his
discomfort. He looked angry and Quatre begged him with his eyes to do
something, anything. The man looked away and Quatre cursed, turning his eyes to
the ceiling as Treize approached him.
"Are you going to make this easy, or are you going to be difficult?"
Quatre pressed his legs together and glared at him. "Go to Hell."
Treize nodded. "Very well." He climbed onto the bed, ignoring the sound of
Trowa snarling and struggling against his chains and lifted the skirt of
Quatre's tunica, exposing him from the waist down.
Quatre glanced at Trowa, pleading. Don't watch. Please. He squeezed his eyes
shut as his thighs were parted, Treize wedging himself in between them. He
flinched when he felt the hard cock brush against his opening and clenched his
eyes shut, trying to retreat within himself. There was a rustle of chains,
shouting, a strange sound a moment later, and then the bed bounced, jarring his
body. It was such an odd flurry of activity that occurred so quickly, he
couldn't even be sure what was happening. When he opened his eyes, Treize was
still above him, but his eyes were bulging out of his head. He glanced down to
see the tip of a sword sticking out from his chest, just below his left nipple.
He looked back up into the man's face, watching with fascinated horror at the
blood that bubbled from between his lips. He looked over the man's shoulder and
spotted Trowa standing behind him. The only sound was that of the
General's death rattle, an ominous gurgle that emanated from within his throat.
A moment later, Treize was yanked backwards, away from him and dropped onto the
floor like a ton of bricks as Trowa pulled the blade from his back and then
plunged it in again. And again. And again, an animalistic scream of rage
escaping from between his lips. The soldier who Quatre had silently pleaded
with walked over to the bed and released the chains from his wrists.
"I'm so sorry, Your Highness." The man was blushing, shamed. Quatre glanced up
at him, so grateful. He must have released Trowa from his bindings and either
gave him his sword, or Trowa had simply taken it. 
"No, it's alright. Thank you." He crawled off the bed and stood in front of the
rest of the gaping soldiers, his body lit with fury. "You are all going to pay
for what you've done," he growled. He stepped over and pulled Treize's sword
from its sheath and held it up, raising a brow when they drew theirs. "Do you
really want to be the one responsible for killing a Prince?" They grinned at
him, obviously not realizing what he was capable of. He stood steady, ready to
fight. Trowa straightened up beside him, the soldier's sword in his hand as the
two faced off against the men. The solder that released them grabbed the knife,
ready and willing to fight for his Prince.
Treize's second Lieutenant sneered at Trowa. "You killed our General, servant."
Trowa's lip curled. "The pig had it coming." He raised his arm to intercept the
blade that swung his way and spun around, hunkering down as his leg kicked out,
foot making contact with the man's gut. He flew back a few feet, knocking into
the soldiers behind him.
Quatre blocked a blow from another soldier, ducking down to avoid a swing that
would have struck him in the head and plunged Treize's sword into the man's
midsection. He yanked the blade out, took an offensive stance and hollered,
"This ends now!"
***** Storm the Castle *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Heero stayed with Duo and Wufei until long after the sun had gone down,
drinking wine until they were lightheaded, reminiscing about old times and
catching up on the days that Heero had been gone. They were fascinated to learn
what life was like for Heero since he'd gained his royal status. Duo was
especially intrigued by the details of the castle. He wore Heero's circlet for
a good portion of the evening and even begged Heero for one of his own. Heero
laughed and said he would look into it. He was sure they could spare one,
maybe. 
He walked back to his own cabin in the dark, taking in the peaceful sounds of
crickets and frogs. He'd missed his home, but he also missed Quatre and was
surprised to realize that the castle also was beginning to feel like home. Odin
was asleep in his chair when he returned and he quietly snuffed out the dying
fire, covered his father with a blanket, and retired to his room. He'd just
slipped a nightshirt over his head when he heard a commotion outside. The sound
of hooves and yelling. Heero quickly slid on a pair of trousers, heart thumping
at the possibility that they were being raided and he grabbed his father's bow
and a quiver of arrows from over the mantle, waking Odin on his way out the
door.
They ran outside to see only one Ghalian soldier, trying to calm his panicked
horse as the villagers surrounded him, swords drawn. The soldier was hollering
over the din of the shouting people and the whinnying of his horse.
"I mean you no harm! Please. I am looking for Prince Heero. I must speak with
him. I'm not here to hurt you!"
Heero stepped into his line of sight, drawing his arrow back on the string of
his bow. "I'm right here. What do you want?"
The soldier looked relieved to see him. "Your Highness! Oh, thank God!" He
swung his leg over the horse's back and jumped down, panting as ran up to
Heero. "I'm so glad I found you -"
"What's going on?" Something was wrong. He knew it. His bones vibrated with it.
"What's happened?"
"The General - he's gone rogue! He and his men have seized the castle. He's
locked Lieutenant Zechs as well as the other dissenters in the dungeons."
Heero's heart pounded, dread uncurling his his belly. "What about Prince
Quatre?"
"I - I'm not sure. I think he's been taken prisoner." Heero cursed and turned
on his heel, intent on gathering as many weapons as he could carry. He was
going to end this once and for all. The soldier scurried after him. "Me and a
few others made it out. Barely. The General gave the order that you are to be
killed the moment you step foot into Ghali." Heero glanced at him, then pulled
his sword from his mount. "Your Highness, it's not safe for you to return!"
"I must go. This ends now."
"But you'll be killed!"
Heero ignored him, sliding his sword and sheath onto his hip. "I have to try.
Prince Quatre's in trouble. I have to go to him." He turned to face the
soldier. "We'll storm the castle. Fight our way in. I don't care how, but I
need to get to Prince Quatre. Are you with me?"
The soldier's eyes were wide, visibly swallowing down his trepidation. "Yes.
Yes, we're with you."
"How many of you are there?"
"There's five of us. They're outside the village. We didn't want it to seem
like we were invading so they stayed back."
"And the rest of the army is back in Ghali, in support of this?"
"No, not all of them, though they're pretending to be for the moment. They're
afraid of facing execution."
Heero stared at the soldier, his eyes solemn. The soldier was young, only a few
years older than Heero himself and obviously Emalian. "You know this will be
dangerous."
"Yes, Your Highness. I know."
"We may not survive."
"I know that, too. We're with you."
"What's your name?"
The soldier looked surprised, but for some reason, it seemed important to know.
"Ruther, Sir. It's Emanuel Ruther."
Heero placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "You're a good soldier and I'm
pleased to meet you."
The soldier's eyes boggled at the compliment. "Thank you, Your Highness." 
Heero nodded and stepped around him. Odin stood in the doorway, his face
relaying his concern. "Must you do this? You may not survive."
"I have to try, Father. Quatre needs me. I'm not going to abandon him. I must
go."
Odin gave a slight nod, though his eyes were grave. "You really care about
him." It wasn't a question. Heero nodded.
"I do. Someone asked me if he meant the world to me. I told him yes, and I
meant that. I love him, Father. I can't leave him. I have to get to him, or die
trying. And Sai will surely suffer if I don't try to do something."
Odin glanced down, then back up again. His eyes a little red, misty. "Be
careful, son."
Heero wrapped his arms around him, savoring the strength of his father's
embrace, hoping against hope it would not be the last time he felt it. There
was more shouting outside, but this time Heero recognized the voices. Duo and
Wufei burst through the door, panicky, out of breath. 
Wufei stepped inside the small living room, his eyes wide, alarmed. "What's
going on?"
Heero clasped his hunting knife into the sheath on his leg and slung Odin's bow
and arrows over his back. "The General has seized the castle."
Duo's eyes were sharp, his hands on his hips. "And you're going to do what
exactly? Go up against the whole army? How stupid are you?"
"Quatre's in trouble."
Duo raised a brow, his voice incredulous. "So you're going to risk your life
for a Ghalian?"
"He is my husband!" Heero shouted, feeling guilty when Duo cringed, his
expression hurt. Heero's face softened, eyes contrite. "I'm sorry. But what if
it was Wufei? Wouldn't you do everything you could to get him back?"
"Of course I would! But, Heero -"
"I love him, Duo." Duo's face belayed his surprise. "I can't abandon him. I
have to try to put a stop to this. Not just for him, but for all of us. The
King was bad enough. The General is much worse."
Wufei was nodding. "He is." He glanced up. "You'll likely be killed."
"It's a risk I have to take."
"Well then we're going with you."
"Fei, no. No way."
"Yes way," said Duo. "You're going to need all the help you can get."
"I'm not going to risk your lives -"
Wufei's voice raised in frustration. "You're not going into this alone!" Heero
paused, looking uncertain. Wufei stepped forward. "It's always been the three
of us against the world and this is no different. We always vowed to fight
together. And if you think we're going to let you go into this alone, you are
sadly mistaken."
"Fei's right, Heero. We fight with you."
"But you could die."
"Then we die protecting our people." Duo shrugged. "It's just the way it is."
A tiny smile tugged on the ends of Heero's mouth. "What did I do to deserve
such good friends?"
Duo slapped a hand onto his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. "Because you've
always been such a good friend. You are our brother. We do this together, or
not at all."
Heero knew he would do the same thing. He'd never allow either one of them to
go into danger alone. His respect for his friends was what had him relenting.
He nodded. "Alright. Get your weapons and meet me at the stables."
"Shouldn't we have a plan, or something?"
"We'll think of it on the way. There's no time to waste. I must - I have to get
to Quatre." Heero's voice was urgent, desperate. He was so worried about his
husband, now at the mercy of the sadistic General. He couldn't even think about
what he must be enduring. The possibilities made him ill. 
"Heero." He turned at his father's soft voice. "Think of it. Think of those
possibilities. Let it fuel you. Let it aide in your fight. Use it. Use it to
win." Heero stared at his father, not sure how he knew what he'd been thinking.
He nodded. "Okay." Imagining the probabilities hurt, made him see red and he
was shaking with rage by the time he and Ruther met up with Duo and Wufei,
already mounted on their horses, their swords slung over their backs. 
Heero hoisted himself onto his own horse. "Someone needs to notify the Queen of
what's going on." He glanced over as Odin mounted his horse.
"I'll do it. She'll probably send reinforcements."
"Thanks, Father. Hopefully, we'll see you soon."
Wufei's father was standing nearby, comforting his weeping mother. "Be safe,
boys."
Wufei dipped his head. "We will. I don't know how long we'll be, but if we're
not back, or haven't sent a message in a few days, you'll know things probably
went sour."
Heero steered his horse in the direction of Ghali and took off in a gallop.
Ruther, Wufei, and Duo following suit, the latter grumbling, "I still can't
figure out why I'm with you suicidal fools. I must have a death wish."
Wufei grinned at him. "You love it."
"If you say so."
They tied the horses to a group of trees at the far edge of the woods, a good
safe distance away and crept towards the castle on foot, invisible in the murky
dark shadows of the forest. There were two guards near the entrance. Heero
turned to his friends and the soldiers. "We're going to have to take them out.
Quietly." He pointed to Duo and Wufei and two of the soldiers. "You go around
that way. Use the element of surprise. Do not give him the chance to yell for
help." They nodded and tiptoed along, skirting the edge of the tall stone
wall towards their target. Heero watched them for a moment, then turned towards
Ruther and the other two soldiers. "You three, come with me. Watch your footing
and try not to step on anything that will make noise," he whispered.
They scaled the high stone wall, getting closer to the guard and Heero drew his
hunting knife. This was it. He was about to take a life. Surprisingly, with
Quatre under threat, he didn't find the task as difficult as he thought it
would be. He raised a hand, signalling the three soldiers to stop and remain
still. He was as silent as the darkness as he slinked up behind the guard, his
knife hand raised, blade pointing to his left. The guard never knew what hit
him. Heero jumped on his back, quickly plunging the knife into the side of his
neck and twisted it. The guard gurgled around the rush of blood in this throat,
but made no other sound as he dropped to his knees and flopped forward. Heero
stood up and looked down at himself. Still in his nightshirt and breeches, now
covered in blood. He wiped the blade and his hands on the guard's uniform and
stepped back.
They tensed at the crunch of footsteps and Heero drew his sword. "It's us,"
Wufei's whisper carried across the darkness and Heero relaxed a little as they
reached him. 
Duo panted, out of breath. "Guy was a fighter." He was also covered in blood.
"Are you alright?"
Duo waved him off with a bloody hand. "Oh, yes. We're fine. Never been better.
Just took a human life..."
Heero empathized with him, but there was no time to dwell on it. He jerked his
head towards the entrance. "Let's go."
"Wait! How are we going to get into the castle?"
Heero flipped his sword and raised it. "We fight our way in." He stepped in
through the gates and the rest of them glanced around at each other with wide
eyes.
"Damn," Duo groaned. "I was afraid he was going to say that."
 
***
 
Heero ruthlessly cut down every guard he encountered and the rest of the group
flanked him, taking out any attacks from the sides. He was surprised to note
that some of them did not charge him, but instead bowed, awe on their faces as
their Saian Prince stormed past them, covered in the blood of their comrades.
It was splattered across his face. His glare promised certain death for those
who crossed him, or tried to intervene in his quest to find his husband. He
looked like an angel of war, Hell-bent on vengeance. He kicked the doors to the
castle open and strode in like he owned the place, ruthlessly cutting down
anyone and everyone who took an offensive stance against them. 
He ran up the staircase, sword at the ready and took off down the corridor,
frantically searching for Quatre. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with
Zechs. The two stared at each other, breathing hard. Zechs looked him over,
noting the deadly expression, the blood all over him. "Are you injured?"
Heero eyes were gleaming, a murderous light, his voice low and threatening.
"Where's Quatre?"
"The General's chambers I believe. I was just on my way there."
Heero glanced behind him at Duo and Wufei. They nodded and he turned back to
Zechs. "Lead the way." Zechs jogged down the corridor, his strides urgent.
Heero, Duo, Wufei, and the five soldiers were hot on his heels. When they got
close, they could hear the clang of swords and shouting. Quatre's voice easily
reached Heero's ears and he charged into the room to find his husband and his
servant standing back to back, surrounded by almost a dozen of Treize's men.
They were holding their own, barely, as they deflected their swords. Heero
could see they were tiring. He unleashed a war cry that shook the walls and
sprinted forward, his sword arm swinging frantically, his only thought was to
get to his husband. He slashed two men down immediately and turned to ward off
the attacks of two more. Duo, Wufei, and Zechs rounded on the remaining
soldiers and disposed of them relatively quickly.
The aftermath was quiet, the only sound was their heavy breathing. Heero's eyes
immediately landed on Quatre. The boy's blue eyes widened with pleasant
surprise. "Heero!" He dropped his sword and rushed forward. Heero held his arms
open, his heart singing with joy as he swept the blond up into his embrace, so
thankful he seemed alright. He met Trowa's gaze and the servant dipped his
chin, a tiny smile of gratitude on his lips. Heero closed his eyes and buried
his face in the soft hair, breathing in his husband's scent. He stroked his
hands along the boy's sides, savoring the touch of his warm skin beneath the
satin of his tunica, and checking for injuries.
"Are you alright?"
Quatre nodded against his shoulder and pulled back a little, looking into his
eyes. "Are you alright? I was so worried about you. They...Treize said they
were going to kill you when you tried to come back. I was so afraid for you."
Heero gestured to the soldiers behind him. "They got away and came to find me.
They told me what had happened."
Quatre turned derisive eyes on him. "And you came anyway." He shook his head.
"Do you know how dangerous that was?"
Heero caressed his face, smiling. "I had to. I had to come to you. I couldn't
leave you here alone with him. It was the only thing I could think about. I'm
so sorry, Quat. I should never have left you." He felt absolutely terrible.
Guilty that he'd left him here to deal with this on his own.
"You didn't know. You didn't know. It's okay. None of us could have known that
was going to happen when it did." Quatre kissed him, stroked his hair. "You
came back. That's what matters."
Wufei stepped forward. "As soon as he heard you were in trouble, nothing could
have stopped him from going to you."
Quatre extended his arms and pulled Wufei into a hug. "It's so good to see you.
I'm so glad Heero didn't come alone."
"We never would have allowed that."
"I'm glad." He glanced over at Duo and smiled. "You must be Duo."
Duo's mouth curled up. "The one and only!"
Quatre laughed and wrapped his arms around the boy. Duo looked surprised, his
eyes widening. Oblivious to his shock, Quatre hugged him tightly. "Heero's told
me so much about you. I feel like I've known you for years."
Duo blushed, flattered. "Nothing too bad, I hope."
Chuckling, Quatre said, "No, only good things. I promise." He pulled back and
Duo seemed to remember who he was dealing with. He gasped and bent his body in
an awkward bow. "I'm so sorry! It's nice to meet you...Your Highness." He
shuffled on his feet, looking suddenly nervous. "Am I...supposed to kiss your
hand, or something? I've never met royalty before." His face was beet red.
Quatre waved his hand, quick to soothe his discomfort. "Please, no need for
that. You are Heero's friends and therefore you are my friends. No formalities
necessary." He grinned and went back to his husband when he held his arm out
for him. "I'm just sorry we had to meet under these circumstances." 
Trowa stepped up to Heero, his face unreadable. He extended his hand to him,
waiting for him to take it. Heero did and they clasped wrists, Trowa's fingers
wrapping tightly around his hand. He gave Heero's hand a hearty shake, a
gesture of camaraderie, of brotherhood. His green eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Never thought I'd be so happy to see your face around here." He grinned, a
flash of white teeth, and Heero couldn't help but laugh. He pulled the servant
into an embrace and thumped his back, smiling at Quatre's beaming face over
Trowa's shoulder. His grin dropped when his eyes landed on the chains on the
bedpost, the blood on the sheets, and finally, Treize's half-clothed body on
the floor. His brows lowered and he nudged his chin at it, glancing at Trowa. 
"Is that your handiwork?" Trowa nodded. Heero stepped over to the body and
looked down at it. Treize's torso was laden with multiple puncture wounds. He'd
been stabbed at least a few dozen times. It was the work of someone who was
obviously enraged. He glanced up at the chains again, the reality of what they
were there for hitting home and he turned back to the servant. "You kept your
promise."
"I know."
Heero dipped his chin in a show of respect. "Well done."
Trowa lifted his chin, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "I did what
had to be done. There's no need to thank me. This was a long time coming." He
glanced at Quatre with somber eyes as the blond wrapped an arm around him and
rested his head on his shoulder.
"You saved me, Trowa. Thank you."
Trowa tipped Quatre's chin up and looked into his eyes. "You saved me. You owe
me nothing. This was my pleasure." He pressed his lips against Quatre's
forehead and whispered, "He can never hurt you again." Quatre choked back a sob
and nodded, letting out a soft breath as the knowledge of that finally sunk in.
He buried his face in Trowa's chest as the powerful arms closed around him. "I
love you, Quat."
Quatre sniffled, his voice muffled in Trowa's tunica. "I love you."
Duo cleared his throat, scratched his head, and asked the million dollar
question. "So...now what?"
Quatre pulled himself out of Trowa's arms and wiped the tears from his cheeks.
He glanced around the room and shrugged. "We clean this up and wait for my
father." He glanced up at his husband, a little nervously. Heero offered him a
reassuring smile and tugged him into his arms. He pressed his forehead against
Quatre's, savored the warm breath on his face.
"It'll be okay, Quat."
Quatre's lips quirked up, though they were trembling. He nodded and closed his
eyes, his voice a pained whisper. "He's still my father."
"I know." He cupped the blond's face and pressed their lips together, his heart
rejoicing when Quatre sighed blissfully into the kiss. Heero whispered against
the quivering mouth, needing to express the sentiment that had etched itself
into his soul. Needing the boy to know. "I love you."
Chapter End Notes
     One chapter left and then the Epilogue! I hope you guys liked it!
***** Coup *****
The day was winding down, the evening fast approaching and Heero's stomach must
have done about a few thousand somersaults throughout the course of the
afternoon. He wasn't sure. He'd lost count. The rest of the group wasn't
fairing much better. Trowa had stationed himself at the window, his eyes
staring into the distance. He watched, waited. The concept of freedom just on
the other end of the horizon, getting closer with each passing moment. He could
taste it now and he was hungry.
Quatre busied himself by showing Duo and Wufei around the castle and laughed
when Duo asked where the kitchens were. They were currently being treated to a
light supper of lamb and cous cous. Duo had already commandeered a suite just
down the hall from Quatre and Heero's chambers, having fallen in love with the
deep purple color scheme of the rooms. He was awe-struck by the silk bed
covers, pillows, and drapery that laid elegantly over the bed. Wufei
affectionately rolled his eyes and thanked Quatre for his hospitality.
Quatre waved him off. "No need to thank me. I consider you both to be friends
and you are always welcome here. Anytime."
Wufei smiled, charmed by his friendliness. "I thought Heero was making the
worst mistake of his life. I was wrong. I think marrying you was the best thing
he ever did."
"Careful, Fei. You're making me jealous." Duo's eyes peered around the bed
drapes with a playful glare.
"Oh, you know you're the only one for me, love."
"Damn right I am."
Quatre laughed and offered to show them the gardens. Their eyes lit up, being
rather dedicated botanists themselves. Duo may, or may not have dug a few of
the more exotic plants to take home with him despite Wufei telling him they
probably wouldn't survive Sai's cooler climate. 
Heero was elated to find the three of them getting along so well, particularly
Duo and Quatre. He smiled warmly when Duo linked his arm through the blond's
and demanded a tour of the palace. Zechs had gone to check on his wife and the
other guards and soldiers were busy cleaning up the mess left over from the
fight, including a good two dozen bodies. Heero and Trowa both watched the
removal of the General's corpse as it was carted out of his chambers. Heero's
eyes were drawn to the blood on the floor and on the bed. He was just relieved
that none of it had been Quatre's.
Trowa shook his head as he stared down at the stain on the floor. "I still
can't believe it. I knew it would happen, but now that it's over..."
"It's not over. Not yet."
Trowa looked up, then glanced at the bed, nodding absently. "He chained Quat to
it. Raped him. Was going to do it again right in front of me."
Heero's fists clenched from the rush of fury at the knowledge that Quatre had
been attacked again. He breathed steadily through his nose, trying to quell the
rage and clasped his shaking hands together. "What happened?"
"One of the soldiers unlocked my chains at the last minute. I didn't even think
about it. I just grabbed his sword and charged Treize. It was as if...I wasn't
even in my own body at the time. He - he didn't make it. The soldier that
released me, but he fought with us, for us."
"You did well."
"Taking a life...no matter what kind of life it was. It...changes you."
Heero cocked his head. "Does it?" He honestly didn't feel any different.
"It - it wasn't difficult to kill the General, but...it's hard to explain. I
guess it made me hunger for blood, more than I hungered for it before I killed
him. I've sparred with Quat many times, but I've never - I've never hurt anyone
before. Now, I fear I may never be rid of the desire to kill."
"You must have activated the soldier within you."
Trowa snorted. "Something like that." He sat down on the edge of the bed and
brought a knee up to his chest, looking deep in thought.
Heero realized the elephant in the room, knew it needed to be addressed.
"Trowa...I know you're worried about Quat." He paused when Trowa shot him an
unreadable look. He threw up his hands, a harsh sigh escaping his lips. "I
don't know what I'm trying to say, but - I guess, I'm just saying don't stay
just because you're afraid of what I'll do. I hope you know by now that I'd
never hurt him."
Trowa's eyes softened. "I'll admit that was part of it. At first. I know you
won't. It's strange. I barely know you, but I trust you." His eyes clouded
over, expression pained. "But please understand...I can't leave him. I can't.
Could you?"
Heero knew the answer to that. There was no question. "No. Not now."
"You went into danger knowing you might not survive because you knew he was in
trouble. That's exactly what I wished I could have done, wished I did. I didn't
go after the General for the longest time because I knew what would happen. I
knew I'd be killed and that would have broken Quat's heart. It also would have
left him alone." His voice was tiny, laden with guilt. "I'm all he had." His
eyes begged Heero to understand why he hadn't acted sooner. "I hate myself for
not doing what needed to be done before he was attacked the day of your trial."
"You can't blame yourself for that. You were powerless to stop him and you did
the right thing." He nodded when Trowa glanced at him, a desperate look in his
eyes, a need for reassurance. "You followed Quat's orders like you were
supposed to."
Trowa sniffled and turned away. "I can't leave him anymore than you can." He
looked down, shuffling his feet. "I know I'm in no position to make demands,
but are you going to forbid us from being together?" His eyes were clouded with
anxiety, pleading.
Heero tipped his head back, sighing through his nose. Here was the conundrum.
Could he tell them they could not be intimate? Part of him wanted to, but the
rest of him knew he never could. They'd been together much longer, loved each
other much longer. They'd been through so much together. Who was he to tell
them they couldn't have that?
It was difficult to say, his own possessive needs railing at him for it. "No."
Trowa's eyes widened. "You won't?"
Heero shook his head. "I'll be honest with you. It's not easy for me, but I
realize I really have no right to come between the two of you, husband, or not.
You love him and he loves you. I have to respect that and forbidding it would
make him unhappy and I don't ever want to make him unhappy. And...despite our
rocky beginnings," he grinned, "I actually quite like you."
Trowa laughed, his cheeks pinking. He nodded and scratched the back of his
neck. "I suppose you're not so bad yourself." He looked up, his eyes soft, full
of gratitude. "Thank you."
"I suppose we'll just have to find a way to make it work."
Trowa stood up, an excited gleam in his eyes. "You mean that?"
"Of course! I'm a man of my word. I don't like to share, but..." He shrugged.
"I suppose I'll have to learn."
Trowa looked uncertain. "Do you think you can?"
"I care too much about Quat not to. I think, with time, it'll be fine. In fact,
I'm sure of it. We'll work it out."
Trowa's broad shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you...Heero."
 
***
 
"Quat, will you stop pacing?"
The blond looked up and Heero could see the trepidation in his eyes. He shook
his hands out and apologized then plopped down next to his husband, blowing out
a harsh breath. Heero tugged his chin in for a kiss. "Hey, it's going to be
fine."
"I'm just...I can't believe what we're about to do."
"You realize the worst is already over, love."
"I know. But...tomorrow, we face Ghali as the new Kings and we will have to
explain what happened." He nervously rubbed his hands on his tunica and glanced
around, spotting Trowa near the window. "Trowa?" The servant turned, his eyes
landing on Heero's arm that was wrapped around him. "Come here." He waved him
over and Trowa came willingly, sighing in contentment when Quatre rested his
head on his shoulder. "You are free now."
Trowa turned his head into Quatre's neck. "I'm not leaving you. I cannot. I
love you too damned much."
Quatre glanced at Heero, his eyes pleading. Heero smiled and squeezed the blond
under his arm. "We talked about it." Quatre cocked his head, questions in his
eyes. "I told Trowa we'd find a way to make it work." He smiled when Quatre's
eyes widened, realization dawning.
"Really?" Heero nodded. "Oh! Thank you, Heero!" He leaned over and kissed his
husband, pouring all of his gratitude into it. Heero chuckled against his
mouth, elated by the blond's happiness. He pulled back, eyes playful. 
"You think you can handle both of us pawing at you?"
Quatre smirked, winking one turquoise eye. "I can handle a lot more than you
think."
Duo leaned his elbow on Wufei's shoulder and whistled. "That sounds like quite
an arrangement. Hey...Fei?"
"No."
Duo turned on the puppy eyes and Wufei kissed his husband's pout away. "You are
more often than not, more than I can handle. And I like it that way." That
cheered the braided boy up and he grinned from ear to ear. 
Zechs walked in, his eyes sober. "He's here."
They scrambled to their feet. All traces of playfulness gone. Quatre nodded to
the Lieutenant. "Let him in."
Zechs dipped his head in affirmation and left the room. They waited quietly for
the King, hearing his loud voice carrying across the castle, bouncing off the
stone walls. He was confused, indignant when the guards did not bow to him.
Quatre could hear him asking for Treize, who usually greeted him when he
returned. The bellowing, demanding voice got louder the closer he got until he
was ushered into the room where they stood in wait.
The King paused in his tirade, coming to a standstill in the middle of the
room, his advisers in tow, following suit behind him. He glanced around, taking
note of not only the two Princes and the servant, but the two strangers who
were also in the room. His incredulous eyes finally landed on Quatre, his brows
forming a knot in the middle of his forehead.
"What in the seven Hells is this?" He roared, fists clenched at his sides.
"This?" Quatre's voice was light, casual as he stepped towards his father.
"This is your abdication. It's your choice. You can either give up willingly,
or we can take the throne by force. What do you say...Father?"
The King sputtered, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "What?!"
"You heard me. Your crimes will no longer go unpunished. General Treize is dead
as are his men."
"You little - you are nothing without me! Do you hear me? I made you what you
are!"
"I made myself. You had no hand in that."
The King lifted his chin, his lip curling. "I see. So now you're going to do
exactly what you are trying to shame me for. You are no better than me."
"That's where you're wrong," Heero interrupted. 
The King turned his condescending sneer on him. "Was I speaking to you,
peasant? Who do you think you are?"
Heero arched a brow. "The Prince, soon to be King of Ghali."
"You little bastard! How dare you! I will die before I allow a filthy Saian
peasant rule my land -"
"It's not your land, Father. It's the people's land. And the people are sick of
your tyrannical, murderous ways. It's time to join the rest of the kingdoms in
the new world. A world without invasions and senseless violence."
"You know nothing about the world."
"I know more than you think I do. And I know how to bring our nations to peace
and prosperity."
"I will have all your heads for this -"
"You have no power anymore. The army of men you've used to control us is gone,
the rest are on our side. They also believe it's time for a change."
The King squared his shoulders. "You are no son of mine. You are dead to me."
Quatre shrugged, seemingly unaffected, but Heero had the distinct sense that
the words had hurt. Had hit a nerve somewhere deep inside in the blond. How
could it not? Heero couldn't imagine his own father speaking those words to
him. Just the thought made him ache. But Quatre was nothing if not a good
actor. "I thought I already was."
The King sneered. "That's right. And you will never rule this kingdom. Neither
of you."
"We already do. You are no longer the King."
"I will always be King."
"Just what do you plan to do? You're outmanned. Outnumbered." Quatre stepped
closer, his eyes uncharacteristically dark, his voice low, vicious. "How does
it feel, Father? How does it feel to be helpless? Under the control of those
stronger than you and being powerless to stop it? That's what you did to me my
entire life. It's what you've done to Trowa and to so many others. How does it
feel?"
The King shook with fury, his teeth clenched together. He unsheathed his sword
and lifted his arm in a high arch. "I will kill you."
Heero and Trowa adopted an offensive stance, ready to defend. Quatre held them
back, turning to Trowa. "Give me Treize's sword."
Trowa hesitated. "Quat -"
"The sword, Trowa." The servant reluctantly handed it over. Quatre grasped the
hilt and test the weight in his palm. It was an older style, vintage as Treize
had a love for antique things. He snorted and tipped the blade then faced his
father, moving into position. Zayeed swung his blade forward and Quatre blocked
it, pushing it away and thrusting his own forward. Zayeed ducked and took
another swing. Quatre spun out of the way, feeling the wind as the sword
came dangerously close to lopping off his ear. He turned and made another
strike which was easily blocked and stumbled slightly as his father shoved him
back. He righted himself quickly and blocked another blow. He brought his arm
around, his blade intent on the man's neck and Zayeed effectively dodged it,
thrusting his sword forward, aiming for Quatre's torso and Quatre swung his arm
back around, deflecting it. 
Heero and Trowa watched the fight with baited breath, their own hands gripped
the hilts of their weapons with white-knuckled tension, ready to strike if and
when the need arose. Quatre had been taught by Trowa, whose skill was nearly
unmatched despite having never used it with deadly force before last night. He
watched with a mixture of fear and pride as Quatre easily held his own against
his father and got close to killing him a few times. He tensed when an attack
from the King nicked Quatre's head, his heart pounding painfully when blood
seeped from the wound and spilled over his temple and down his cheek. He kept a
close eye on not only their fight, but also on the advisers who watched with
fascination and a tinge of smugness, certain that their King would undoubtedly
win. 
Heero was impressed by Quatre's skill, but he watched the King intently,
looking for any wrong move, anything underhanded that he might try. He was
ready to slice the man's head off at the first indication that Quatre was about
to be hurt, or killed. He clenched his teeth, hand squeezing the hilt of his
sword when a close call cut across Quatre's forehead. He stepped forward,
determined to end it before his husband was incapacitated. He was stilled by
Zech's hand on his arm. He glanced at the Lieutenant who was staring at the
duel, his eyes almost gleaming.
"Just watch," he whispered.
Heero raised a brow at him. "You seem confident."
Zechs' lips curled up. "I am."
He turned back to the fight, heart stopping in his chest for a brief moment
when the King turned into a side spin to dodge a blow and went in for Quatre's
head. For a split second, it seemed as if Quatre was doomed before Heero
realized the King had made a deadly mistake. He'd left his right side
vulnerable and Quatre had caught it even before Heero did. He sidestepped his
father, easily deflecting the hit and then swung his arm up as he pivoted on
his heel and Heero instinctively cringed as his sword cut swiftly and cleanly
through the man's neck. He came to a stop behind him and lowered his weapon, at
rest. It was done.
The room was quiet but for the gurgle of the King's severed throat. A moment
later, his head slid off his neck and tumbled to the floor, rolling across the
room and coming to rest at Quinze's feet, the rest of his body collapsing a
moment later. The little weasel of a man stared at his King's head in shocked
silence, then uttered a high-pitched, almost womanly scream. Quatre raised his
sword arm, pointing it at the stunned advisers, his eyes hard, fierce. "Prison,
or death?"
One by one, their arms rose up in a show of surrender and Quatre nodded,
tossing the sword down onto the floor near his father's body. He glanced at
Zechs, his voice stilted. "Arrest them." Then he turned on his heel and left
the room without another word.
Zechs dipped his head. "Right." He motioned the guards in and they quickly
surrounded the advisers and ushered them out of the room. Duo and Wufei stood
with wide eyes, their arms around each other. Wufei turned to Heero, his jaw
hanging open. "I - can't believe it. I never thought he had that in him."
But Heero was too worried about Quatre's state of mind at the moment to respond
and swiftly left the room, Trowa on his heels. 
"He'll be in the courtyard. It's where he goes when he's upset."
Heero nodded and the two headed through the winding corridors and down the
stairs until they reached the courtyard. Quatre was seated on a bench and
Heero's heart clenched as his eyes took in the slumped form, the head lowered,
face in his hands. They rushed over to him, kneeling down in front of him.
"Quat?" Trowa wrapped his fingers around the blond's wrists and gently pulled
his hands away from his face. Quatre's expression was deeply pained, his cheeks
streaked with tears, running over the dried blood on his face. "Quat...love,
it's okay. You did good." He swiped at a damp cheek with his thumb. "You did
good."
Quatre's voice was ragged, broken. He sniffled. "I just killed my father."
Heero placed his hands on Quatre's knees and leaned forward. "You should have
let me..."
But Quatre was shaking his head. "No. No, it -" He took a deep shaky breath.
"It had to be me. There was no other way." He nodded, almost as if he was
convincing himself. "It could have only been me." His face contorted into one
of intense pain and he tried to stifle a sob, but failed. Heero and Trowa
pulled him off the bench and into their arms, soothing him as best they could
while he wept out his grief, his despair, likely his anger and guilt. They held
him for a long time until he'd cried himself out and lay limp and pliant in
their arms, exhausted.
He shivered in the cool night air and Trowa swept him up into his arms. "Come
on, love. Let's get you inside." He carried the blond back into the castle,
snarling at anyone who came too close with the exception of Heero. They brought
him up to their chambers, Trowa disappearing behind the doors without a word to
anyone. 
Heero smiled apologetically at his friends, his face belaying his worry. Their
eyes were sympathetic, understanding and Wufei placed a hand on his shoulder
and nodded towards the doors. "Stay with him. He needs you. We'll be fine.
We'll see you in the morning."
Heero squeezed his hand. "Thanks." He stepped into their chambers and closed
the doors softly behind him. Trowa had Quatre on the bed. He'd already stripped
him of his tunica and slipped a nightshirt over his head. He gently laid the
blond down and cleaned and bandaged the cut on his forehead and treated the
injuries on his wrists. Quatre was limp, pliable, his eyes distant. Trowa
pulled the covers up over his body and caressed his face as Heero dressed into
his own nightclothes. He stepped over to the bed as Trowa straightened,
looking down at Quatre with sad eyes.
"We never should have let him do that."
Heero shook his head. "No. He wanted to. He felt he had to. We had to respect
that."
Trowa's face was agonized. "But, he's hurting -"
"He'd be hurting either way. He did what must be done. It was as personal for
him as Treize was for you."
Understanding burned in Trowa's eyes and he glanced down, nodding. He turned to
leave, back to his own chambers, but Heero stopped him. Trowa stared at him in
surprise as Heero gestured to the bed.
Trowa's mouth worked over words he couldn't form, then said in a husky whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am!" Heero climbed in on his side and settled down beside the
blond, gathering the pliant body into his arms and resting his chin on the soft
curls. He smiled up at Trowa who boggled at him with wide eyes. Heero arched a
brow. "Well?"
Trowa grinned sheepishly and lifted the covers on the other side of Quatre and
slid in behind him, curling himself around Quatre's back, his arms draped over
both of them. His green eyes closed in contentment, a happy sigh escaping his
lips as he nuzzled the back of Quatre's head and drifted off to sleep.
Heero could feel the fluttering of Quatre's lashes against the skin of his
neck, knew he was still awake, and pressed his lips to the crown of his head.
"Sleep, love. We'll sort this all out in the morning." He felt when the blond's
eyes drifted closed, his breathing slowing down, the tension in his muscles
smoothing out. Heero closed his own eyes and inhaled the scent of his husband.
Quatre would need some time, but he had no doubt he would come around. Quatre
was strong, resilient. He would come back from this stronger and better than
ever. And he and Trowa would be there with him, for him through every step of
his grief. There was nowhere else Heero would have rather been.
***** New Beginnings *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: ...Actually, does double penetration constitute a warning?
     Meh. You've been warned.
     Kindly enjoy the 1x3x4 porn because I just couldn't help myself. I'm
     a sucker for kinky, happy endings. xD
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The day of their coronation was hot, but full of exuberance, the town
square packed with excited guests. Heero swallowed down his nervousness as he
prepared to take the stage. Quatre wrapped his robes around his shoulders,
smiling at him with sparkling eyes.
"Nervous?"
"No...yes."
Quatre chuckled. "You'll do fine." He gave Heero a saucy wink and a bow. "Your
Highness."
Heero blew out a laugh and tugged a blond curl. "I've never had this much
attention focused on me before. I've never been important enough."
"You have always been important."
Heero chucked the blond's chin. "You're just saying that."
Quatre shrugged. "It's true. Maybe not to everyone, but you've always been
important to the people who care about you. That hasn't changed and that's what
matters most."
That much was true. Heero turned to Trowa who stood nearby, gazing out over the
crowd. He looked sharply handsome in his Lieutenant stripes. He was on high
alert, watching along with the new General, carefully scanning the congregated
guests for any possible threats to the new Kings. 
The kingdom was in a flurry in the days after the death of King Zayeed had been
announced. The ripple of shock was followed by tentative excitement when Quatre
had upheld his principles and released all of the political prisoners and freed
every slave. The Emalian soldiers that chose to go back to their homeland were
free to do so. He extended the hand of friendship to Sai, Borsten, Emali, and
the rest of the neighboring kingdoms which were happily accepted as well were
the cordial invitations to the coronation. For the first time in centuries, it
finally seemed that peace would prevail.
The people were overjoyed by the transition of power. Most of them. There were
some that were not as thrilled, but grudgingly accepted it. Heero figured it
would have to do. They couldn't please everyone. 
In the days that followed the transfer of power, Quatre had promoted Zechs to
the position of General which he graciously accepted. Quatre was absolutely
over the moon when two weeks later, Lucrezia delivered a healthy baby girl. He
was often spotted stealing the child away to play with her whenever he could
get away with it. Heero frequently found him cooing over the baby as he played
patty cake with her feet, counted her tiny fingers and toes, and sang soft
lullabies to her. He also dutifully kissed the blond King's pout away when her
parents came to collect her.
Trowa was offered the position of Lieutenant which he proudly accepted, his
eyes teary when his status as servant was officially absolved. He'd cried on
his lovers' shoulders and keened when they took him to bed, celebrating with
arduous hands and hungry kisses. 
It was hard to believe all that had happened three weeks ago, but as Heero
stood waiting to be formally anointed as King of Ghali, he couldn't help but
feel as if everything had gone exactly the way it was supposed to.
He stood on the platform, the same platform that King Zayeed had addressed his
people, their people when Quatre received his punishment just over month ago.
His shoulders were weighed down by the heavy robes. They were fur-lined,
sweltering in the heat as the sun beat down on him and he wiped a few beads of
sweat from his brow. He glanced over at his husband, his co-ruler, and counted
his lucky stars to have been the one who was chosen. It may have initially
started off as an act of desperation, but it had quickly become so much more
than that. A relationship so profound, so loving, it filled him with a deep
sense of completeness. 
His initial reticence about sharing Quatre with Trowa really wound up being a
non-issue. Trowa brought aspects to their relationship that only made it feel
more whole. Instead of being jealous, Heero cherished being the one who
witnessed the touches, the kisses, and the lovemaking between his husband and
the Lieutenant and treasured being able to participate when observing was no
longer enough. He and Trowa had gotten much closer over the past few weeks,
bonded in their shared love for Quatre and they'd learned to love each other as
well. They worked together, a team in perfect sync and all of their individual
traits enriched the relationship in ways that would have felt empty if any of
them were missing from the equation.
The throne was theirs and as co-rulers, they were destined to make Ghali great.
Heero felt his heart swell when he and Quatre stepped forward and the kingdom
erupted in thundering applause. He dutifully bent forward to receive his crown.
The weight of it settled on his head, but it wasn't just the gold that was
heavy. It was the weight of responsibility, he realized. They had a duty to not
only serve their people, but the people from all over the region. There was no
place for selfishness and greed. He stood, humbled before not only Ghalians,
but also Saians, Borstenians, and Emalians. They were all their people now and
his hand snaked between him and Quatre, his fingers twining with the blond's.
He swallowed down his giddiness as Quatre's fingers gripped tightly to his own.
His smile was stunning, radiant as he addressed his people and Heero beamed
with pride as he listened to his husband's voice, his poetic words, deeply
warmed by the love their people had for him, for them.
After the ceremony, everyone filed into the ballroom and loitered in the
courtyard which glowed with pillars of candles and torches. Music played both
inside and outside and Heero, like his husband, was expected to make the
rounds, greeting and thanking everyone in attendance. He smiled so much
throughout the night, his cheeks were aching and he excused himself briefly to
work his jaw and try to get the cramps out of his face. 
Duo was getting quite tipsy on the wine and Wufei kept a steady hand on the
small of his back the entire evening. They both looked beautiful, having donned
formal tunicas themselves. Duo was delighted to indulge in the Ghalian dress
and he couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror when he first put it on.
It was a pale purple which matched his eyes and he'd been thrilled when Quatre
offered him the amethyst circlet, nodding when Duo excitedly asked if he could
keep it.
Thankfully, they weren't forced to wear the robes all night and were able to
take them off after the ceremony along with the crowns which were taken to a
secret location for safe keeping. Both he and Quatre donned their circlets
again and Heero watched his husband, his love, work the crowd, charming
everyone he came in contact with. He was breathtaking. The long, formal tunica
he wore was a rich cream color and gauzy scarves of pale blue were weaved
through his arms, around his shoulders, and tied at the small of his back. They
trailed a good few feet behind him. The jewels of his arm cuffs, necklaces, and
circlet sparkled in the torchlight and Heero watched him with hungry eyes,
taking note of the other pairs of voracious eyes as they stared at his
husband. 
He wasn't worried, or jealous. Quatre could take care of himself quite
efficiently and he knew that the only ones who were allowed to touch him were
himself and Trowa. Almost as if on cue, Trowa appeared at his side. The outer
layers of his uniform had been discarded some hours ago and his linen shirt was
open in the front, exposing his beautiful, powerful chest. Heero gratefully
accepted the chalice of wine Trowa handed him and together they observed their
lover as he bewitched everyone around him.
He smiled when Trowa rested a gentle hand on his back and he sipped his wine in
companionable silence.
"He's quite a way about him, doesn't he?"
Heero nodded, mesmerized. "He does. Everyone loves him."
"He's always been able to charm everyone around him. It's been both his
blessing and his curse."
"It's no longer a curse."
"You don't think so?"
Heero nudged his chin at him. "He's King now. Even alone, there's not many
people around who are capable of hurting him anymore."
"But he's not alone."
"No, he's not." He tipped his head at the Lieutenant and happily accepted the
kiss when Trowa pressed their lips together. He smiled. "Hard to believe this
is all real."
Trowa looked mildly surprised. "Still?"
"I think I'm getting more used to it. Sometimes, it just feels like it's all a
dream."
"I know what you mean. I've been in servitude most of my life. And now here I
am, second commander in the Ghalian army and lover to the two Kings."
"Life is funny that way." They both smiled when Quatre glanced at them over his
shoulder, a knowing, almost impish look in his eyes. Heero chuckled. "I think
he's getting a little full of himself."
Trowa laughed. "Well, we can rectify that later."
Oh, yes. That they would. They were both worked up. Heero could feel the waves
of sexual energy emanating off of Trowa's skin. They were more than ready to
ravish the little blond devil the first chance they got.
 
 
***
 
It was late by the time the three of them retired to their chambers. Quatre,
head filled with wine and music, flopped down onto the bed with a tired groan,
his lovers smiling fondly at him. Trowa swatted his bottom.
"I don't think so, love. You still have more work to do."
Quatre turned his head and peeked open a bleary blue eye, his mouth curling in
a grin.
Heero smirked at him and tugged his tunica off. The bedroom was warm from the
residual heat of the day and the breeze that filtered in through the open
windows felt wonderful on his bare skin. He watched with dilated eyes as Trowa
knelt on the bed and flipped the blond's tunica up, exposing his pale peach of
a rump. Quatre yelped as the Lieutenant, still in uniform, pushed his slender
thighs open and buried his face between the soft cheeks. Quatre gave a small
mewl and pushed his hips off the bed, pressing his ass against Trowa's mouth.
Heero's erection twitched in the air at the erotic display, the soft moans that
escaped from the blond's lips. 
He was far too aroused to simply observe and he climbed up onto the bed,
kneeling in front of Quatre's head. He pulled the tunica up the blond's back
and kissed the wounds there, healing nicely, the fresh pink of new skin
visible. He trailed his lips and tongue over the ridges of scar tissue and
Quatre hummed under the dual attention of his lovers. He rose up on his elbows
and scooted forward, engulfing Heero's cock in between plump lips and Heero
hissed through his teeth at the slick heat, the soft brush of hair against his
belly. He pushed his knees further apart to give the blond more access to his
cock and kissed over Quatre's back, reaching the dip at the bottom, the top of
his head brushing against Trowa's.
His mouth met the Lieutenant's over Quatre's upturned ass and Heero moaned into
the kiss, the knowledge of where Trowa's tongue had just been a moment before
intoxicating. He kissed him with fervor until Quatre's pushed his hips up, his
rump bumping against their chins, greedy for attention. They chuckled and broke
the kiss, both of their heads dipping down to devour the sweet ass beneath
them. Quatre shouted around Heero's cock, eaten out by two mouths more than he
could take. His hips twitched and jittered and he moaned, long and broken as he
spilled his seed onto the bed. He held Heero's cock in his mouth as he panted
and drooled through his orgasm. 
Heero slipped his erection out from between Quatre's lips and rolled him over
onto his back, sliding his own body beneath him as he went. They came to rest
in the middle of the bed, Quatre's back on top of Heero's heaving chest, his
legs hooked over the Saian's, leaving him exposed. Trowa gazed down at them
with eyes that gleamed and they shivered as they traveled down and drank in the
sight between their legs.
Quatre's lips were trembling, the orgasm he'd had only working him up further
and his hips rolled with the need for stimulation. "Please," he breathed, his
voice tinged with desperation.
Heero met Trowa's eyes over the blond's shoulder, gave him a nod and Trowa
climbed off the bed to fetch the oil. Heero wrapped his hand around Quatre's
cock, giving him some much needed friction. The blond sighed in pleasure, his
head dropping to Heero's shoulder as his hips pumped up into his husband's
fist. Heero closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Quatre's temple,
tamping down on his almost animalistic arousal and trying to keep from pushing
his cock into the tight opening without preparation. The tip brushed against
the blond's entrance, sending lightning bolts of burning desire through his
limbs.
Trowa quickly returned to the bed, already unstopping the bottle and drizzling
the oil over his fingers. Quatre watched him through half-lidded eyes, nodding
his head with delirious anticipation. Trowa watched him, his eyes dark and
ravenous as his hand lowered between their legs and Heero felt Quatre's body
jolt against him as he was penetrated. He wrapped his arms around the blond
and closed his teeth around the delicate shell of his ear as Quatre cried out,
Trowa's fingers brushing against his sweet spot.
A few thrusts of his fingers and Quatre was yammering nonsensically, begging
for more. Trowa arched an eyebrow at Heero and he jumped as he felt the
Lieutenant's hand closed around his cock, guiding it against the blond's
opening. At Trowa's nod, Heero pushed in, impaling Quatre onto his cock.
Quatre's head tipped back onto his shoulder as Heero pushed upwards until
his balls pressed against the blond's ass. He pulled out and pushed back in
several times, feeling as Quatre's body relaxed around the intrusion. There was
surrender in the loosening of his muscles, the soft sighs of acceptance. Then
the heady press of Trowa's cock slid against his, vying for space of its own
inside Quatre's body. Trowa lowered himself over them, his elbows propped on
either side of their heads, and Heero hissed at the sensation of his
lover's cock pushing in alongside him. It was easily the most sensual thing
he'd ever felt. 
Quatre's head shook back and forth, overwhelmed. His opening stretched far
wider than his senses were prepared to deal with. He sobbed brokenly and his
lovers kissed and caressed him with soft lips, hands, and words. 
"Ssh. It's alright, love. Just relax. Let go." Trowa kissed away the tears that
had collected in the corners of the blond's eyes with such tenderness, it made
Heero's heart hurt. They both held very still and Heero wondered if Trowa's
body was screaming at him to move as much as his own was. He suppressed the
urge to thrust his hips up into the tight heat of Quatre's ass and focused on
soothing him while the blond adjusted to the added stimulation of two cocks
inside him. 
Quatre gasped and panted, his body rigid for another few minutes. They managed
to coax it back into relaxation and sighed with relief when Quatre's body
finally went lax between them. Still, they didn't move, waiting for him to let
them know when he was ready. Quatre huffed soft breaths against Trowa's chest
then tried an experimental roll of his hips. Both Heero and Trowa groaned as
the blond's inner muscles rippled over their cocks. Encouraged, Quatre did it
again and again, realizing the power he held within his own body. He nodded his
head, his cock rehardening from the reaction he got from his lovers and dipped
his head to take one of Trowa's nipples into his mouth, causing the Lieutenant
to rumble out a deep groan. 
"Oh, Quat."
"Move. I'm ready."
Heero and Trowa glanced at each other, unspoken communication between them,
then Trowa pulled his hips back slowly. Heero waited until he began to push
back in again, then retracted his own hips, pushing in when Trowa pulled back
out. Quatre uttered a long, broken sounding moan as their pace picked up. Heero
felt he was already on the verge of bursting and he held it back with
everything he had, not ready to climax just yet. Trowa dropped his mouth to
Quatre's neck and suckled the soft skin as Heero clamped his own mouth around
the blond's ear lobe, tugging gently.
Quatre keened as his body was gently rocked between his lovers. His hands
scrabbled up, fingers curling around Trowa's biceps, moaning at the erotic
sensation of Trowa's hot mouth latching onto his neck and the slight tickle as
Heero sucked on his ear lobe. He was so overwhelmed by the sensations. He was
accustomed to taking one lover inside his body, sometimes immediately followed
by the other, but never both at the same time. It was the most exquisite thing
he'd ever felt, being joined with the two people he loved more than anything,
in such intimacy. He felt so deliciously vulnerable, exposed in ways he'd never
been before. It was heady and so incredibly arousing. And yet he felt safer
than he'd ever been in his life. He tipped his head back and shouted as Heero's
hand closed around his erection, his lovers' cocks pressing against the place
inside him that made his body shake with pleasure.
They sped up their thrusts, their hips working harder now that they were
steadily climbing to their own climaxes. They growled and panted in his ears,
the force of their thrusts bouncing his body back and forth. He felt the slight
burn on the still slightly tender skin of his back as it rubbed over Heero's
chest and abdomen. His legs, hooked over Heero's raised knees tensed as the
pleasure in his body began to coalesce, swirling around his groin, getting
smaller and more intense with every thrust of his lovers' hips. He shook his
head, the pleasure becoming almost too much to bear. Tears spilled down over
his temples at the mind-bending sensations. He opened his eyes, watching
Trowa's beautiful face as he moved above him, pleasure increasing at Trowa's
expression, almost pained in his ecstasy. Heero's hand twisted on his cock just
right and he sucked in a painful breath, his back bowing as the exquisite
pleasure was sucked down into a single point in his pelvis and then released in
an explosion of pure bliss. His seed shot from the tip of his cock and he
writhed on Heero's chest, beyond words, beyond sound even. His eyes rolled back
into his head as the muscles of his ass clamped down on his lovers' cocks,
squeezing around them almost painfully.
Through the roaring in his ears, he could hear them shout as his body rippled
around their cocks, milking them of their orgasms only a few moments later.
They smothered him tightly between them and he panted and bit down on Trowa's
shoulder as they pressed so deeply inside him that fireworks exploded behind
his his eyes. His hips twitched and shook from the overstimulation of his
prostate. A few endless moments of agonizing piquancy passed and his lovers'
cocks began to soften inside him. The pressure on his sweet spot lessened
enough to allow his body to go limp between them. He closed his eyes as he
gathered his bearings, registered the panting breaths of his lovers against his
skin and swallowed around a suddenly parched throat.
He winced as first Trowa pulled out, followed by Heero, then was tipped onto
his side and gathered into their arms. He closed his eyes, humming with
contentment and he draped a trembling leg over Trowa's hip and nuzzled into his
strong chest. Heero spooned up against his back and he sighed happily as lips
kissed his shoulder and neck. He was sore, particularly between his legs, but
it was a pleasant ache, one that made him flush with pride. The evidence that
these two beautiful men wanted him so badly. Trowa brushed his hair back from
his face and stroked the back of his finger along his cheek. 
"You okay, love?"
"Mmm...I feel wonderful." He did, flushed and languid and so sexy. He'd been
objectified for most of his life, but it was different when love entered the
equation. Being the object of love and desire was so heady, tantalizing. 
"Are you sore?"
"Hmmm...yes. I think it will be obvious tomorrow what we got up to tonight."
Heero cursed softly. "Sorry."
"Don't be silly!" Quatre turned his head and pecked a kiss on his lips. "I
loved it. I hope we can do that again soon." His lips parted, seeking more
kisses and Heero indulged him. Trowa stroked his hair and Heero leaned over
Quatre's head, fishing for Trowa's mouth. Quatre sighed beneath them, his eyes
joyful as he watched his two lovers come together. 
Trowa's head flopped down onto the pillow and Quatre's hand tucked a lock of
hair behind his ear. His mouth curled in a wry grin. "S'been a long day."
"Sleep, Trowa." Quatre's smile turned playful. "You've earned it."
Trowa's eyes were momentarily troubled. "You really think I can do this with my
heart?"
Quatre's bare shoulders lifted in a shrug. "How do you feel about it?"
Trowa took a moment to think about it. "Good. I feel good."
"Then you're fine. Do the best you can and when you're tired, rest," Heero
said.
Trowa nodded and nuzzled down beneath the covers, his arms wrapping around
Quatre and Heero, eyes drifting closed. His lovers caressed him until his
breathing slowed down. Quatre kissed his forehead and turned towards Heero who
looked at him with mild concern.
"You're sure you're alright?"
"Of course I am." He stretched, his hand closing over Heero's which rested on
his belly. "I've never felt better." He turned soft eyes on Heero. "Thank you."
Heero cocked his head. "For what?"
"This...making this work between us."
Heero lowered his head and took the blond's lips. "Anything for you. I love
you."
Quatre smiled. "And I you. This just seems right, doesn't it?"
He nodded. "It does." And he meant that. There was nothing in the world he
would change. As long as he had Quatre and Trowa by his side, he could do
anything.
 
End.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you guys liked this story! It's been a fun ride and I enjoyed
     creating this little world. It was a challenge at times, but it was
     worth it. I couldn't have done it without your continued support, so
     thank you so much for that and thank you for reading. Until next
     time! ^_^
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