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"25 Days of Gundam Wing"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: R Warnings: Humor, Crack. Pairings: Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre, Treize/Une. Summary: King Treize bans Christmas. Five young peasants get even. Prompt: Banned. "25 Days of Gundam Wing " Chapter 18: Banned The doors to the last of the Christmas shops were bolted closed with large sheets of metal screwed into the door and window jams. Soldiers sprayed giant X’s over the panels with cans of black spray paint. The festive garlands, wreaths, giant candy canes, twinkle lights, and big red bows were carted away to the town square to be incinerated. Even the jolly store and street corner Santas were hauled away in chains despite the teary protests of the village children. The townspeople gathered around to watch the dismantling of Christmas and the burning of their decorations. The holiday was officially banned, as decreed by King Treize and his Queen, the majestic, but icy cold Lady Une. Near the center of the crowd, surrounded by their fellow villagers, five boys watched solemnly as icons representing the cheerful holiday were scorched to blackened husks. The general of King Treize’s army, Zechs Merquise stood on a steep dias. He was covered from head to toe in shiny armor, overseeing the pillage. Only his glacial eyes were visible, his steely gaze warning away any dissension. Beside him, a lumpy old man wearing similar armor read from a scroll. His gravelly voice echoed off the buildings of the town square like a bullhorn as he proclaimed the wishes of the King and his Queen. Admiral Quinze bellowed over the top of the long scroll as he read off the list of items that were banned from the town. “As decreed by King Treize, the holiday known as Christmas is hereby banned, now, and forevermore. Any such villagers and townsfolk who dare to defy these orders will be court marshaled, tried, and hung in the town square, by order of the King. Items that are forbidden within municipal limits include the use of evergreens such as wreaths, garlands, holly, mistletoe, and trees of pine. Any items depicting the fictional image of Santa Claus, or of any of his elves, or reindeer. In addition, there will be no use of red bows -” “Man, what a pisser,” a young villager known as Duo Maxwell grumbled. He stood with his elbow resting on the shoulder of another young boy named Heero. He scoffed as he listened to the Admiral’s rambling and twirled the end of his long braid between his fingers. “Careful, Duo. Someone might hear you,” whispered a small blond boy that stood beside him. A taller young man with brown hair stood at his back with his arms draped over him, providing protection and warmth from the bitter chill of the air. Trowa, as he was called, was watching the grizzly old man and his general with his chin on the blond’s head and narrowed green eyes. “Psssh. Like I care,” Duo muttered. “You will care when they haul you up on that platform with a noose around your neck,” a black haired boy said. “No one is going to be hauling anyone anywhere,” hissed Heero, wrapping an arm around Duo. “We’re going to put a stop to this.” The black haired boy sputtered, “How? What could we possibly do?” “I don’t know, Wufei, but we’d better think of something. Do you want to live like this?” Duo rested his chin on his fist, thinking. “I know. We’ll dress Quat up like an elf and send him into the palace. He’ll cute his way into the King and Queen’s heart.” “We’ll do no such thing,” snapped Trowa, tightening his arms around Quatre, now for the sole purpose of preventing his lover from throttling the other boy. Duo threw up his hands. “Well, I’m all out of ideas.” “There’s only one thing we can do,” hissed Heero, voice dropping to an ominous timbre. “We’ll have to kill them all.” He turned to his friends who were all staring at him bug-eyed. “What? Too much?” “Guys,” Quatre said. “I think there’s a way we can accomplish our goals without bloodshed.” He cut Duo off when the braided boy opened his mouth, “Or dressing up like elves, or any other stupid thing you’re considering.”
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King Treize and Queen Une were disturbed from their precious throne time by a hysterical servant who ran into the room, huffing and puffing in a panic. “Your Highness, you must come quick! It’s absolutely terrible!” Intrigued, the king leaned forward, propping a royal elbow on his knee. “Terrible, you say?” Queen Une steepled her fingers. “Excellent.” The servant led them to the grand ballroom of the palace. Both king and queen stopped abruptly at the threshold, gaping in shock. “No,” the queen hissed. “It can’t be,” gasped the king. He swooned, leaning against Une, thinking she’d catch him before he fell. She didn’t. The king spilled onto the marble floor in an ungainly sprawl. The ballroom was decorated from floor to ceiling with Christmas greens, lights, bows, and a vast assortment of plastic Santa’s, gingerbread men, lollipops, candy canes, and elves. Cheerful, tinkling music was coming from somewhere within the hoard. Fluffy fake snow covered the floors. There was so much glitter, it would take decades to clean it all. There were five giant Christmas trees scattered throughout the room. Not an inch of space was spared of tacky festoons. In the middle of the garish display, hanging from the giant chandelier, was the king’s top general, Zechs Merquise, and his right hand man, Quinze. They were bound and gagged with a giant red bow, squirming helplessly. Une clutched her pearls in dread and glared down at her vapid husband. “You fool! See? What did I tell you? What did I say? No good would come of this absurd law of yours and look what happened. I was right, as always," she spat and kicked him with a dangerously pointed shoe. She marched into the ballroom, whipping a semi-automatic handgun out of her bodice and pointed it towards Zechs and Quinze who shook their heads, mumbling protests behind their gags. Une pulled the trigger and the ribbon suspending them from the chandelier broke, dropping both men onto the floor. They got to their feet, blushing in embarrassment and removed their gags. “I want this cleaned up, boys. Are we clear?” “Yes, my Queen.” She turned and pointed at the king who was pretending to be unconscious in the hopes he wouldn’t be relegated to clean-up duty. “You, too. You’re not fooling me. Get up and help these two simpletons clean this mess. And repeal that ridiculous law! Maybe next time you’ll actually listen to me.” The king sat up, looking petulant, but cowed. “Yes, dear.” The Queen turned sharply on her heel and strode off down the hallway towards her personal suite, ready for a hot bubble bath and a glass of expensive champagne. She stopped at her husband’s quarters, barging in to swipe his rose-scented bubbles and then retired to her rooms. In the morning, Christmas was reinstated. The peasants rejoiced.
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