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"Consponsata"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: Yaoi, Alternate Universe - Dark, Love
Triangles, betrothals, Arranged Marriage, Marriage of Convenience,
Romance, Angst Pairings: 4x1, 13x4, 3x4, 5x2, 6x9, 3x4x1 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. "Consponsata " Warning: This chapter has implied attempted rape. Chapter 1 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's voice was deceptively mild. He 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 you know this 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."
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