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"Here There Be Dragons"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: I own Gundam Wing (and its bishounen),
polka dots have pin stripe suits, and mermaids live in Arizona. Rating: R. Pairing: 3x4, existing 1x2 Spoilers: Nada. Warnings: AU, yaoi, lemon, romance, some angst,
sap, dragons, clairvoyants, and cats with attitudes. Author’s Insane Ramblings on Who Knows What: DEATH! DEATH I SAY! Off with all plot bunnies
heads! I’ll slaughter them all! Shigeki: Just ignore her. She’s always like
this. "Here There Be Dragons " Chapter Two: It’s Still No! "The art of love ... is largely the art of persistence." -Albert Ellis Nothing beats being home. My shop wasn’t really all that large, and it was on a very busy main street in the city, but it was mine and after three years of living right above it in a little apartment, it was comfortable and familiar. I’d left the castle early that morning, sneaking into my sister’s room to kiss her good bye and making sure that a certain dragon had no idea that I was leaving. Trowa had been amiable enough company after that argument yesterday, but I didn’t want another argument and I was sure that I would get one if he figured out that I was returning home. It was late afternoon now. Normally I wouldn’t open the shop doors when I just got back, but Amee had violin lessons today, and she invariably breaks a string during lessons. I figured I could keep the door open for her, and lock up afterwards. One of these days, I’m going to figure out how she keeps breaking strings like she does. The bell right over the front door rang sweetly. Ah, that must be her. Leaving the workroom, I walked out into the front. “Amee, how many times—oh, I’m sorry.” That was definitely not Amee. He was a bit taller than me, raven black hair pulled into a pony tail and dark slanted eyes. Very good looking, in an exotic way. Did I mention he was a dragon? “Expecting someone?” he inquired, mouth quirked in amusement. His voice was smooth cognac, as pleasant as any music would be. “A young violinist has lessons today,” I explained dryly. “She invariably breaks at least one string during lessons, and stops by here on her way home to buy a replacement. What may I do for you, sir?” “I need to buy a gift,” he replied. “It’s for a friend.” “Anything in mind?” “The guitar you have in the window,” was the immediate reply. Expensive taste. The guitar he was referring to took me nearly a year to build. It was beautifully carved (even if I do say so myself) and had a mellow sound to it. I walked around my front counter and to the window display, carefully lifting the guitar free. “Can you play something for me? I want to see how it sounds.” “Certainly.” I sat on a bench near the window, testing the strings to make sure everything was still in tune. Then I started a melody that displayed the full breath of range on the instrument. When the song ended I looked up in question. He was watching me with unreadable eyes, the only sign of his approval in the faint smile on his mouth. “That was very beautiful. Of course, I expected it to be while the instrument was in the master’s hands.” I could feel myself flush a little at this praise, tongue tied at the compliment. “I think it will suit him. Wrap it for me, please.” Grateful to be let out of the potentially awkward situation, I nodded and went back behind my counter. I had to duck into my storage room (which was right off the workroom) for a moment to grab the guitar’s case. When I came back out, he was carefully scrutinizing the guitar straps along one wall. “What is your name?” I blinked at the question. His eyes hadn’t moved from the straps. “Quatre.” “It is rare to see a clairvoyant in a music shop.” I arched an eyebrow. I wasn’t terribly surprised that he had sensed my power. Most people of the other world could. Even Trowa had, to a degree. “It’s rare to see a dragon in this country as well.” “A rather powerful clairvoyant,” he parried softly, finally looking at me, “if you can see what I am.” I gave him a rueful smile. “A young clairvoyant with much to learn. Might I have your name?” “Chang Wufei, Wyvern of the Red Dragons.” Wyvern? He was the lord of his clan?! Holy moley. “Welcome to Elfoure, my lord.” Something impish lit in his eyes. “I can honestly say it is a pleasure to be here. I am intrigued, Quatre. Why is a clairvoyant of your abilities in a music shop?” “I do have to make a living,” I pointed out wryly. “Most clairvoyants do,” he refuted calmly. “They use their abilities to do so, however. Why aren’t you?” “I prefer music.” How is it that I’ve seen two dragons in three days, and both of them ask all sorts of personal questions about me? Do I have a dragon magnet in me somewhere? His eyes became thoughtful at that, but he accepted my response with a nod. I let the subject drop and finished placing everything in the case. “Is there anything you wish to add to the purchase?” “I think a strap…but I am unsure which one would suit.” Turning back to the wall display, his mouth pursed slightly as he studied them. “What do you think?” “I don’t know the person in question,” I reminded him. “He’s a green dragon,” Wufei replied as if that explained everything. Actually, it didn’t. “That tells me very little.” Wufei quirked a brow. “Perhaps your comment earlier on your abilities was more truthful than modest? Hm. Green dragons are notorious for being packrats. They are especially attracted to brightly colored things, and exquisite craftsmanship.” There was a flash of humor in his eyes as he added, “Of course, in that reputation is arrogance and supreme confidence.” Hm. Sounded like Trowa. Maybe he was a green dragon. “In that case, I’d go with the black and gold strap.” Wufei considered it for a long moment before he nodded. “Why that one?” “It’s the most expensive one,” I offered helpfully. There was a low rich chuckle from the dragon. He picked it off the rack and tossed it casually to me. I rolled it up and tucked it in the case. “Twenty-four rvotak and three silver.” Wufei brought out a slim purse from inside his jacket and counted it out. I put the money in the strong box under my counter, and looked up with a comment that died unspoken. Um…he was studying me with weighted eyes. There was a light in them I had seen recently, but I couldn’t place where. I did know it spelt trouble though. Maybe I should back up a pace— Wufei leaned over the counter, catching the nape of my neck before I could retreat. Up close, I could see his eyes quite well and it suddenly dawned on me where I had seen that look before. Two days ago, in a music room, when Trowa had suddenly leaned over and kissed me. Oh shit. I didn’t have time to protest before warm lips settled over my mouth. Instinctively I tried to pull free but it was useless. Dragons are much stronger than mere humans, darn it. Something warm touched my bottom lip and snuck into my mouth. Wufei was damn good at kissing, and I’d probably be mere putty in his hold if I hadn’t been too busy panicking about what he might do. There was a hint of fire that flickered over my senses and I nearly groaned. No! I didn’t want to have to go through this again! The fire touched me again, more persistent this time, and I had to open my mind to it or get scorched. As soon as he realized I could accept it, he snuffed the fire out, gave me one last caress of tongue and lips, and pulled free. I jerked back as soon as he let go and glared at him. “You are a dragon’s mate,” he murmured in dark delight. “I know,” I snapped. “And no, I won’t be yours.” An ebony eyebrow arched. “How do you know?” “Because a dragon did the same test you just did about two days ago.” Wufei had the absolute gall to grin at me. “That was more than a test.” He leaned over the counter again—mental note, broaden the counter—and flicked his fingers through my hair. “You are quite kissable, Quatre.” The door chime sounded, a little harsher than usual. My eyes snapped to the doorway—Trowa? Oh hell. Wufei turned, expression amused and bemused at the same time. “Hello Trowa.” “Wufei.” Trowa gave him a curt nod. “He’s not free.” Wufei apparently was a very insightful dragon. He took in Trowa’s thunderous scowl, my unhappy glare, and what I had told him—then he started laughing. “I should have guessed it would be you! You’ve always had a thing for blonds. He doesn’t carry your mark, Trowa. He isn’t your mate, and therefore is fair game.” I moved to stand between them, glaring at them both in equal measure. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not a dragon’s mate. No, I won’t consider the prospect and no, you can’t persuade me to think otherwise.” The last I said particularly to Trowa, because I had a hunch he had tracked me down in order to argue with me again. Wufei, the rat fink, was even more amused at this. “Trowa, what did you do to put his back up like this?” Trowa just glared at him. Apparently this was normal behavior for Trowa when he was in a snit, because Wufei’s attention went back to me. “I’m afraid, Quatre, that you do not perceive the whole scope of the situation. Finding someone who can be a dragon’s mate is very rare. In over a thousand years, I have only seen three, including you. We cannot simply accept the fact that you have no desire to belong to a dragon. For all we know at this moment, it might mean hundreds of years before we meet another dragon’s mate.” “No is no,” I told him flatly. Wufei lost some of his amusement, and went to thoughtful. I don’t like it when he goes to thoughtful. It makes all sorts of alarms sound off in my head. He outright frowned at Trowa. “Just what did you do?” Trowa didn’t deign to reply. “He isn’t fair game, Wufei.” “As I said, I don’t see him marked.” “Gentlemen.” I gave them both a pointed look. “I will not be fought over. I will not be a dragon’s mate for any dragon, end of discussion. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot to do and you’re taking up my time.” Trowa ignored this and stepped right into my personal space, unintentionally (intentionally?) looming over me. “Why did you run away this morning?” Every nerve in me shivered with a plaintive need to have his hands and mouth on me. I squashed it ruthlessly. “I didn’t run away from you, I avoided another pointless argument. You don’t own me, Trowa, and I don’t have to answer to you.” Fire lit up in his eyes, running in rings around his slitted pupils. I lifted a finger warningly to his face. “Don’t you dare. I don’t want my shop burned down.” “Trowa, I advise a strategic retreat.” Wufei lifted the guitar case from the counter and walked pointedly toward the door. “Unless, of course, you want him to really dig in his heels. He strikes me as the obstinate type.” He’s got that right. Trowa growled low in his throat, but the fire was banked and he backed up a pace. “I’ll speak with you later, Quatre.” “Oh yes,” Wufei seconded mildly. “You will see us later.” Oh goody. Why did that assurance make me want to run for the hills? + Mornings are usually quiet for me. Over the years I had fallen in the habit of spending those hours in my work room, either crafting an instrument or fixing a broken one. Sandrock curled up on her cushion near the window and kept me company as I puttered around the room, dodging clutter with practiced ease. Just what could I do about this situation? I had two dragons (one of which was a dragon lord) that wanted me to be their mate. Wufei at least had the good sense not to try and force me, but I doubt that he would just let the matter drop. He had said it himself—he had no way of knowing when he might meet another that could be a dragon’s mate, and he was attracted to me. Apparently he considered that to be on par with a miracle from the gods, and wasn’t about to just let the opportunity slip through his fingers. A thousand years…Trowa had said eight hundred years, if I remembered correctly. What would it be like to search for a mate for a thousand years? Frustrating, certainly. “Quatre.” Broken out of my (admittedly circular) thoughts, I jerked. “Yes, Sandrock?” “Are you aware that you’ve been staring at the same tool for ten minutes straight?” Er…no. Scowling, I set it down. “What happened?” Sandrock gave me a cat-ish grin, something that was undeniably female and amused. “Did Mrs. Havens propose to you again?” Mrs. Havens was over forty years old, close to four hundred pounds, and with the appearance of bulldog. She’s probably a nice person normally, but whenever I saw her she was instantly glomping me and sniveling like a moon-struck virgin with the dew still on. Even if I were attracted to women (which I wasn’t) then I wouldn’t have been remotely tempted by the widow, Mrs. Havens. Actually, I’ve considered moving several times because of her… “No. I haven’t seen her in at least two weeks.” “Lucky you,” Sandrock observed. “So what is it?” Sandrock was meant to be a witch’s familiar…and she had all the knowledge needed for such a position. Sometimes I was astounded by what she knew. Maybe it would behoove me to talk the matter over with her. “What do you know about dragons?” “A bit more than the normal person. They’re arrogant, powerful, and not someone you should tangle with even if you do have a death wish. Different kinds of dragons have different traits…” she tilted her head. “Anything you want to know in particular?” “Dragon’s mates.” Her ear twitched at that. “Very little is known about dragon’s mates. They’re extraordinarily rare, for one thing. Most dragons mate to other dragons, but the lords—or in rare cases, female wyverns—usually claim a mate outside of their clan.” I could imagine why. If they chose a dragon inside their clan, it would look like favoritism. And if they chose a dragon from another clan, there would be a conflict of loyalties. “Go on.” “I can’t add much more, I’m afraid. The only thing I do know for certain is that a dragon’s mate is never an ordinary human. There is something about the mate’s mind that is crucial, an ability to accept strength from another person without being submissive to it.” I frowned at her. “Accept power without being submissive?” “As a clairvoyant, you should be familiar with the concept. Remember how you worked that healing last year?” ‘That healing’ didn’t need a name or more elaborate reference. It was the most arduous healing I had ever been involved with, and I fervently hoped that I would never be dragged into such a thing again. A fellow clairvoyant in the city—actually, it was another student of my old master, Sally—had been gravely wounded in a fight with a demon. Not only had their body been infected, but their mind (and by default, their power) as well. I had been the closest clairvoyant and been called in to assist the healer. It had been my job to stabilize the wounded man’s mind and power while the healer worked her magic on the man’s body. At certain points, the lady healer had to channel power through me to do her work. It had been…a disturbing experience. “Yes, what about it?” “That’s what you did at that point. You accepted her power without being submissive to it. It’s a rare quality, Quatre. Most people can’t accept such a partnering because of pride or mistrust or something else of that nature. Such an ability is why you are ranked so high, despite your inexperience.” …interesting. I had wondered about that. Her explanation also cleared up the matter as to how I was a dragon’s mate in the first place. It kind of made sense. Of course a dragon (especially a dragon lord) would want a mate that could handle their powers but not be cowed by them. “So who prompted this question?” Resigning myself to laughter (Sandrock has a sadistic sense of humor) I sank moodily into a stool. “I hope that ‘who’ is plural.” “There’s two of them?” “Oh yes. Trowa Barton—” her tail flicked in surprise, and I smiled sourly at her “—and someone you haven’t met. Chang Wufei, wyvern of the red dragons.” Sandrock slowly started to laugh, listing over to her side. “Two dragons?!” I sighed, quite put out over the entire situation. “It’s not funny, Sandrock.” She kept laughing. Remind me. Why do I consider her a friend? After a few minutes of enjoyment at my situation, she calmed enough to add, “And one of them is a red dragon too! You poor boy.” Um…that didn’t sound promising. “Why do you say that?” I queried suspiciously. “Ah, that’s right, you don’t know. Well, red dragons are notorious for being of a very fiery and passionate nature. Not to mention stubborn. They quarrel physically at the drop of a hat.” I sank into my hands with a groan. “What could I have possibly done to deserve this?” “I bet you were unkind to cats in a previous life.” Sandrock daintily preened a paw. “That has weighty consequences in the heavens, you know.” There was no way I was going to touch that statement. Not with a ten foot pole. “I don’t suppose, in your infinite wisdom, that you know how to convince a dragon to leave you alone?” “Get married,” was the immediate reply. “They won’t cross oaths of loyalty. Dragons are nothing if not loyal.” Considering that my marriage prospects are about as abundant as gold in a beggar’s purse…I think I better come up with another plan. ~*~*~
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