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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. AN: This chapter contains attempted rape "Consponsata " Chapter 2 - Betrothed 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 dareyou? 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. You will 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.
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