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"Chains of the Covenant"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe
- Dark, mature themes, dark themes, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,
Dubious Consent, Slavery, Concubines, Moral Ambiguity, Stockholm Syndrome,
Angst, Implied/Referenced Violence, Science Fiction Pairings: 3x4, 5x6, 6x9, 2x1, 5xS, 2xH, SxUne Summary: In a world where humans are little more
than chattel to their alien conquerors, a young concubine struggles
to accept his new status at the feet of the Triikirion admiral who
has claimed him. In time, he gradually begins to learn the harsh truth
that morality is only in the eye of the beholder. "Chains of the Covenant " Chapter 1: Cat and Mouse 'But what you’re talking about means giving up all that - just the noble primitive, simple and self-sufficient. He’s going to chop down a tree - who sold him the ax? He wants to shoot a deer - who made his gun? There never was and there never could be a noble simple creature such as you described. He’d be an ignorant savage, with dirt on his skin and lice in his hair. He would work sixteen hours a day to stay alive at all. He’d sleep in a filthy hut on a dirt floor. And his point of view and his mental processes would be just two jumps above an animal.' ~ Robert Heinlein, Beyond This Horizon
*** The massive chamber was dark but for the flickering fire that played off the opulent furnishings. The flames cast eerie shadows on the walls that seemed to possess a life of their own, undulating in a hedonic dance of demons and tortured souls bound forever in purgatory. In the center of the sleeping area, a tall figure stood like a vengeful god waiting for the hapless mortals to arrive and repent for their sins. Quatre peered out from his crouched position behind a grandiose wingback chair, hidden in the shadows. He could see the figure’s silhouette backlit by the orange glow of the fire, silent, still, and imposing. Though Quatre was concealed within the darkness, he knew that the figure knew exactly where he was. He always knew. “Why are you hiding?” “Because I cannot bear to be seen like this.” “You’ve been seen like this many times. Why would tonight be any different?” “It’s not. That’s the point.” “There is nothing in this universe more beautiful than a human on its knees, groveling in submission as it acknowledges its inevitable fate. Is it not flattering to be regarded as the ultimate prize? Decorated in the wealth of the one who rules over you?” “You tell me I’m beautiful, yet you refer to me as ‘it’. How can I be flattered by that?” “That bothers you,” the figure mused, sounding slightly perplexed though he did not frame it as a question. “Why wouldn’t it?” “Odd that such primitive, insignificant creatures think so highly of yourselves. How is it that humanity has come to dabble in matters such as pride?” “You tell me. You’re the ones who created us.” “We have created countless species all over the universe. Yet, you humans are unique in your convictions, your steadfast belief in your own importance despite being a mere speck of dust floating through the cosmos. You have been convinced that you were created in the image of your gods for eons. So ardent in your faith that you have ruthlessly spilled the blood of your own time and time again.” “But we were right, weren’t we?” “Yes, I suppose you were. Out of all the species in all the universe, you were the only ones genetically designed in our image...but you weren’t supposed to know that.” “Is that why you’re doing this? Are you punishing us for uncovering your big secret?” There was a soft sound, like a faint rumble of amusement before the figure spoke again. “I’m afraid it is never that easy, but we have other business to attend to right now. Come to me. I wish to see you.” Quatre hesitated and then decided to test the waters. “If I refuse?” As expected, the figure’s voice dropped to a deeper, more threatening timbre. “You know the penalty for disobedience. Now, come to me. Do not make me tell you again.”
***
Quatre remained curled beneath the sheets of his lord’s mammoth-sized bed long after the warmth of the Tiikirion’s body heat had dissipated. He was tired, sore, and not in the mood to deal with the condescending sneers of his fellow humans. Aside from himself, there were only two other concubines occupying this particular compound. The rest of their brethren was delegated to the role of house servant. They cooked, they cleaned, and they scurried back and forth like gophers to obey the whims of the resident Tiikirions. It wasn’t the ideal life, but they’d all decided it was better than the cards Quatre and the other two concubines were dealt. They took pride in their own interpretation of dignity which inevitably turned into a sense of superiority and disdain towards the three “Tiiki whores” whose sole purpose was looking pretty and tending to the sexual needs of their overlords. Eight months had gone by since Quatre’s transfer to this facility and he’d determined that there was a strict hierarchy of rank among the residing Tiikirions. One general, two admirals, four commanders, six lieutenants, and the remainder made up the lower ranks of sergeants, corporals, and privates. Only the general and both admirals were permitted ownership of human slaves for whatever purposes they saw fit to suit their personal needs. Quatre found out the hard way, on the very first night, that those needs also included sexual proclivities though in hindsight, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not after the things he’d seen. Not after the things he’d been through in the months before he was brought here. His lord had been particularly rough during their most recent coupling as he’d been irritated by Quatre’s mild display of rebellion, such as it was. Quatre could vaguely see the faint emergence of bruises blooming beneath the pale skin of his wrists where the Tiikirion’s strong hands held him fast. There was something to be said about the Tiikirions’ superior strength. Strength that no human could ever hope to possess. Quatre had seen them bend beams of steel, lift tanks above their heads, and in some cases, easily snap the human body as if it were nothing more than a toothpick. “Your breakfast is getting cold.” He hesitated for a moment and then rolled over to face his lord who stood at the side of the bed studying him with eyes that were the same vibrant green as the earth’s flora, yet icy like the glaciers that drifted across the arctic waters. So much of Quatre’s home in those eyes, but so little humanity. How strange it was to look at such a startlingly human face and know that it was not human. The concept of humanity, to humans, had always been synonymous with goodness and virtue. Possessing humanity was something that philosophers, poets, philanthropists, leaders, and heroes alike were celebrated for. Contrarily, the lack thereof was associated with savagery, cruelty, brutality. To lack humanity implied that you were primitive, unevolved. To see no trace of humanity within the human eyes of a creature that was not human, but rather an exceptional cut above what humans had always regarded as the pillar of intelligence, integrity, and civilization - themselves - was humbling to say the least. For Quatre, it shed light on the concept of mankind’s ego, realizing that their cockiness was a direct result of their dominion over the earth and the other creatures who dwelled there with them. For many millennia, they’d survived and thrived unchecked and with no one to show them that they were nothing special on the cosmic scale, they’d developed a troubling God complex. To put it bluntly, humanity had gotten a wee bit too big for its britches. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze away to avoid being pinned like an insect to a dissection board by those piercing green eyes. He never had an appetite in the aftermath of their couplings and the Tiikirion damned well knew it. The only thing Quatre craved was the dark nothingness of sleep to escape the memories of his body’s betrayal during his subjugation. “How long are you planning on living in denial?” “For as long as I must,” he spat, meeting his tormentor’s eyes with a flare of spite in his own. “So you admit you’re in denial,” the Tiikirion quipped, his tone light with a trace of humor. Quatre pressed his lips together and wisely chose not to dig himself deeper. Instead, he pulled the covers up over his shoulder and turned his face into the pillow. “I’m sore.” “You’ll get used to it.” “Maybe I don’t want to get used to it.” “You do not have a choice, pet. You’d do well to remember that.” His blood simmered beneath his skin, raising his body temperature high enough for sweat to bead across his brow. God, how he loathed being called ‘pet’. “My name is Quatre.” “Yes, I believe we are long past the point of introductions. Respect is earned, pet. It is not given freely.” He wanted to mention that owning slaves wasn’t exactly something worthy of respect, but he knew such a retort would more than likely earn him a stinging slap across the face. It wouldn’t have been the first time. He’d already nursed more bruised cheeks than he could count, each one a painful reminder that his life was no longer his own. He had to remember that his sense of morality was far more subjective than he wanted to admit. No matter how bitter a pill it was to swallow, Tiikirions simply did not concern themselves with humanity’s interpretation of right and wrong. He was spared the expectation of responding by a knock on the door and he curled himself up tighter in an attempt to hide when his lord permitted the guest entry. “What is it, Wufei?” Quatre peeked through his lashes to see the regal Tiikirion commander bow slightly in the customary gesture of respect. “Admiral Barton, sir. Beg your pardon, but General Merquise has sent me to inquire of your presence in his chambers along with Admiral Maxwell to discuss the mining riots.” “Yes, of course. Inform him of my arrival in ten minutes.” Quatre watched through slitted eyes as the commander saluted and spun sharply on his heel. He listened to the echoing clicks of the Tiikirion’s boot heels fade until he could no longer hear them at all. He was blushing despite the fact that the commander had not spared him a single glance. Even if he had, Quatre wouldn’t have been acknowledged as anything more than the concubine he was. At best, humans were regarded as a luxury item, a highly sought-after commodity that only those with unimaginable amounts of wealth could afford. At worst, they were merely the dirt clinging to the soles of the Tiikirions’ boots, held in no higher esteem than the ash of mankind's ruined cities. Quatre had heard the whispers from the halls, the heated discussions while kneeling at his lord’s feet during mealtimes, and from his lord’s private exchanges with Admiral Maxwell and their lieutenants. There had been a revolt, or at least an attempted revolt by the humans who’d been delegated to mining metals and other resources from deep beneath the earth’s crust. It was a dangerous, often deadly job and among the numerous roles that humans were forced to comply with by the ruling Tiikirions, the miners were considered the most disposable. They were only good insofar that they could mine the materials the Tiikirions needed to build and repair ships, weapons, and bases, as well as provide continuous energy and water sources to maintain their preferred standard of living and keep communication open to the other Tiikirions not currently stationed on earth. Once the workers outlived their usefulness, they were removed from the mines and executed. Whether they’d made any headway in their attempted coup, Quatre didn’t know, but he assumed it hadn’t been successful. His lord, along with the other officers, were occupied with organizing disciplinary and preemptive measures to ensure there would be no more uprisings. His heart went out to the miners, especially the ones who still had families. Sadly, many did not since Tiikirions had proven many times that they were not above butchering a dissenter’s entire family to establish complete cooperation. He would know. All he had left of his own family were the memories he kept safely locked inside himself, fiercely guarded behind an impenetrable fortress. It was the only thing that reminded him of his former life, of who he used to be. That he hadn’t always existed as a living, breathing sex doll. He’d had a purpose, a future, people he loved, and he’d been happy. He would die before he let anyone sever the last, fragile connection he had to his life before the invasion. The concept of humanity may have been objectively meaningless, but to humans, it was still as precious as it ever was. He pushed the covers away and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to retrieve the tray of food that had been set out for him. Kectich was a personal favorite and he went for that first, tearing a large chunk off with his teeth. It was vaguely similar to human cornbread only the texture was fluffier and less dense. Cane sugar and corn were not part of the Tiikirions’ diet as it did not grow on their own planet. As a result, they had more difficulty digesting it and turning it into energy. Instead, they sweetened their dishes with the Vedct plant, a species indigenous to Tiikiri which they harvested from the crops they sowed into the earth’s soil. He studiously ignored the soft laugh behind him and focused his attention on his food, far too ticked off to trust himself with a response that would not land him in hot water. He picked up the cup of mulled cider and washed his breakfast down, recognizing the slight tang of the tincture that had been added to relieve his aches and stiffness. He drank it all down, well past the point of fighting over it, and just barely stopped himself from slamming the cup down onto the tray. “Here, wear this.” He glanced over his shoulder at the garment the Tiikirion draped across the bed, trying not to let his distaste show. It was the common uniform of the concubine, meant for everyday wear. Surprisingly, it was not all that revealing unlike the garments that were required during evening and formal occasions. It was more the scarlet letter effect it had on the rest of the compound’s occupants. A mere glimpse at his clothing was sufficient enough time to recognize his humiliating status. I may as well just wear a neon sign around my neck that says ‘whore’, he thought bitterly as he snatched the garment up and made a testy show about putting it on. When his lord stepped around the bed and approached him, he turned his head away and held out his wrists for the cuffs to be clasped around them. “Look at me, pet.” Gnashing his teeth together, he reluctantly turned his head and lifted his gaze until he was eye to eye with the Tiikirion. It was so difficult to hate such a magnificent creature. Admiral Trowa Barton was physical perfection in the flesh. What he even saw in a lowly human like Quatre was one of life’s greatest mysteries...in his personal opinion. He resisted the impulse to flinch when his chin was grasped between deceitfully gentle fingers, preventing any possible retreat on Quatre’s part. The Tiikirion stared down at him for several minutes, silently studying the curves and angles of his concubine’s face from the shape of his eyes to the slight roundness of his cheeks, the delicate slope of his nose, and down to the plump flesh of his rose-stained lips. Quatre remained still under the scrutiny, watching the Tiikirion take it all in. He caught every twitch of his lord’s mouth, the way his gaze lingered on the features he loved the most, and the nearly inaudible hitch of his breath, and realized that the admiral was equally fascinated by him. When their eyes met again, his own were remarkably steady as he waited for the verdict. “Like I said,” the Tiikirion murmured. “Nothing more beautiful. It’s a shame. Your kind had such potential. We had hoped you would exceed our expectations.” Quatre’s eyes flared with vindictive blue fire. “Happy to disappoint you.” For a moment, he was sure he was going to be struck and braced himself for the jarring impact. Instead, his lord’s fingers clamped tightly around his chin before he was pulled against the sinewy chest and kissed with such aggression that he was left panting and disoriented by the time the Tiikirion pulled away. “One of these days, that mouth of yours is going to get you in more trouble than you can handle.” “As if it matters anymore. Sooner or later you’ll get bored with me, then you’ll either kill me, or you’ll send me back to that filthy brothel and forget I ever existed. I just hope you’ll be merciful enough to kill me because I’d rather die than go back to that hellhole.” The Tiikirion stared down at him as if shocked by the revelation. “Do you actually believe I would do either of those things?” Quatre shrugged to hide the sting of inevitable reality. As much as he despised his lot in life, it was worlds better than where he’d been prior to this. And he wasn’t ready to die just yet. “Why wouldn’t you? I don’t actually mean anything to you, do I? I’m just a warm body to fuck and it’s not like I’m going to be young forever, you know. I’ll get old and droopy someday. My attractiveness will fade along with my ability to withstand the physical requirements of my position. I give it fifteen years, twenty tops, before I’m no longer considered desirable and then you’ll replace me with a younger piece of meat. I’ve seen your kind do it many times.” Already resigned to his fate, he was determined to leave it at that, but the Tiikirion would not allow him to withdraw. He gave only a token resistance as he was swept into inhumanly strong arms. His heart just wasn’t in it. The will to fight grew fainter with each passing day and that frightened him more that he was willing to admit. “I am not just any Tiikirion, pet. Everything I claim is valuable to me. I do not throw my treasures away.” Quatre allowed himself to be held, but he could not bring himself to believe what he was hearing. A Tiikirion’s word was no more trustworthy than the serpent who convinced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit and he was not about to be fooled. The admiral made a soft sound of acknowledgement and released his concubine. “Perhaps one day you will believe me. Come. General Merquise is waiting for us.”
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