"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 "

Chapter 5 - There Is No Justice

The following morning, Treize was treated to another confrontation between his betrothed and his King. He sat in the sitting room that offset the King's main suite, sipping tea from heirloom china when his soon-to-be husband stormed into the chambers and began another one of his righteous tirades. He watched the Prince through the doorway as he faced off against his father and admired the beauty of the boy, even more breathtaking when he was indignant, bursting with virtuous outrage over some perceived injustice.

The boy had not noticed him sitting there yet and Treize gleefully enjoyed the fact that Quatre's fury was not directed at him for once. He drank in the flushed cheeks, the rapine shine of his eyes. His spirit was so fierce, so alive. He truly was a sight to behold. His eyes traveled down the boy's body, adorned in the traditional dress of his people. The silver belt accentuated his tiny waist and the slight swell of his hips and buttocks. The long tunica both concealing and showing off the Prince's soft curves and Treize was overcome with desire. His body vibrated with it, his hand curling around the tea cup.

Everything about the boy was begging to be ravished. From the jewel-encrusted circlet that rested on his head, to the soft blond curls, the beautiful face, the sensuous contours of his body, to his small, delicate feet. His pale skin glowed with health and vitality and his eyes shone with vigor and a unique purity. Quatre was Hell-bent on single-handedly fighting the good fight for all that was right and just.

Treize wanted to break him.

He wanted to watch that spirit, that exuberance crumble beneath his fingers. To see the light in those fiery eyes die down to mere embers and cloud over with surrender. To hear that sweet voice weep from his subjugation at Treize's hands. To hold those delicate wrists above that blond head and see the helplessness, the hopelessness in those cerulean depths. He shifted in the arm chair and crossed one leg over the other as his arousal made itself known between his legs. He licked his lips as he watched the boy wave his arms in the air as he hollered at his father.

Oh, yes. He was going to have that little spitfire. He preferred surrender, but he would take him by force if necessary. And something told him it would be. This boy, despite his looks, was not going to give himself up without a fight. Treize's senses heightened, his nostrils flaring with the thrill of the hunt.

He didn't even realize he was squeezing the teacup in his hands until it shattered between his fingers with a loud pop, the shards slicing through his skin. He shook his hand and glanced down at the broken china and spilled tea on his lap. The suite was ominously silent and he looked up to find Quatre staring at him in shock. The boy looked back at his father, brows drawing low over his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?" His voice shook with anger.

The King shrugged. "You didn't ask."

"My Prince," Treize said as he stood up, brushing remnants of the tea cup from his lap. "If I may." He walked to the threshold between the main suite and the sitting room and leaned against the door frame. "I know you think you're doing the right thing by defending those boys, but they are dangerous criminals who were plotting to kill your father."

Quatre glared at him. "You're lying."

Treize cocked his head, intrigued. "How do you know that?"

"Quatre," the King said sternly and Treize watched a shadow of discomfort cross the boy's face. "Were you down in the dungeons again?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly and Treize knew he was lying. The Prince really was terrible at it.

"Quatre."

He threw his head back and sighed. "Yes. Okay? Yes, I was."

"What have I told you about going down there? It's not safe for you. It's full of criminals."

"Alleged criminals who also happen to be locked up."

"I told you time and time again that you do not belong down there. I grow tired of your disobedience, Quatre."

"You have been imprisoning people for no reason, putting them through unfair trials and executing them without just cause. They are just boys. You cannot do this to them. It's wrong."

"Can you honestly tell me that you don't believe they were plotting to attack us?"

Quatre threw up his hands in frustration. "Of course I don't!"

"So you're calling the General and I liars?"

He chewed on his lip and glanced from one man to the other, uncertain how forthright he should be. "I - I want to believe you -"

"But you don't."

Quatre looked down, a fetching blush across his cheeks. "I don't believe those boys meant any harm."

"But, how do you know this for sure?"

"Instinct. Gut feeling. They're just kids. They don't deserve this. Let them go back to Sai."

"So you're basing all of this on gut feelings." It wasn't a question and Quatre shot his father a petulant look. Treize chuckled, hopelessly charmed.

"My Prince." Quatre turned innocently large eyes on him and Treize sucked in a sharp breath. God, but he wanted him. Wanted to ravish him until he begged for mercy. "Please understand that, as Ghalian leaders, we are doing what is right for our people. Those boys are dangerous. They could hurt the King, they could hurt you."

"And inciting war with the Saians is what's right for our people?"

"Like I told you before. They will come for us if we do not. We must make a stand now before Ghali suffers unimaginable horrors." He cupped a soft cheek and didn't miss the slight cringe. He dropped his hand as the boy pulled away. Quatre glared at them both before turning on his heel and storming from the room.

The King nodded at Treize and he bowed, turning to leave.

"Treize."

He turned back, looking over his shoulder.

"I'm counting on you to keep my son in line. I don't want him talking to those boys. Once they are convicted and in the gallows, it will not be an issue, but I worry about this continued behavior of his. His obsession with sympathizing with our enemies. You are his betrothed. I hope I can count on you to...control him."

Treize gave a slight bow. "Not to worry, my King. I will take care of it."

"See that you do. Dismissed."

Treize left, closing the doors behind him and headed to the dungeons to collect the prisoners for their trial. He was going to have to find a way to contain Quatre. Bring the boy under a firm hand. It was, after all, his duty.

***

The prisoners were alert when he reached the cell, fixing him with twin glares and Treize graced them with a deceitfully cheerful smile. "Good morning, Gentleman. I do hope you slept well."

The brown haired boy's eyes glimmered. "I highly doubt you hoped that."

Treize grinned at him and motioned for the guard to unlock the cell door. He strode in, the edges of his cape swirling around the frame. He crouched down and eyed the brown-haired boy. "I've been informed that you met our Prince last night."

The boy's brows lowered over his eyes as the black-haired boy's head jerked towards him. "You what - when?"

The boy ignored his friend and nudged his chin at Treize instead. "What makes you think that?"

Treize brushed imaginary dust off his knee. "Oh, a little birdy told me." He glanced up and smirked. "He's a character, no?" The boy breathed steadily through his nose and refused to answer. Treize continued, fishing for a reaction, "He's also quite a beauty, isn't he? But...perhaps you didn't notice that." He leaned forward into the boy's space, eyes shimmering. "Or did you?"

"Heero, what the hell is he talking about? Did you meet the Prince? Did I actually sleep through that?"

Treize continued staring at the boy. "So what did he tell you? What did he offer you? These blankets, I see. One thing you must know about our beloved Prince is that he is a rather caring individual. A kind heart, he has. He's quite the soft spot for our prisoners, though I can't imagine why." Treize leaned back, his expression one of disgust. "So, what did he tell you?" He cocked his head at the boy.

"He didn't tell me anything. I asked him to let us go and he said he couldn't."

Treize's eyes were steady as he asked, "Is that all?"

The boy's chin lifted. "Yes."

"I see." He stood abruptly and inserted the key that held the chains to the wall into the lock. He watched the prisoners' hands drop into their laps and they shook them out to bring back the circulation. "Alright, boys. Here's how it's going to go. You're going to be brought through that corridor, up a set of stairs that leads to the outside. You will walk, with the guards, to the courthouse where you will wait to be called for your hearing. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will answer any and all questions with 'yes', or 'no'. You will not mouth off, or disrespect the Court Marshal, or try anything funny that makes any of us nervous. Do you understand?"

The boys didn't answer and Treize growled at their impudence. He grabbed the brown-haired boy by the shirt and yanked him onto his feet, enraged that the insolent peasant just stared back at him. He didn't cringe, or flinch like most of the prisoners did and it infuriated him.

"You have a real problem with authority, don't you, boy?"

"Only when that authority does not deserve respect."

Treize shoved him away and pivoted on his heel, far more angry than this kid had any right to make him. "Bring the curs to the courthouse," he snapped at the guards and stepped through the cell to wait. The prisoners were ushered out, the drag of the long chains on their wrists and ankles echoing off the walls.

"Hurry up," he snapped.

The black-haired boy looked over his shoulder at him, anger evident on his face. "It's a little hard to walk with these things weighing us down, you know."

They trudged up the stairs and squinted at the bright sunlight, dropping their heads down as their eyes teared up involuntarily after being in near complete darkness for almost a week. Heero blinked as his eyes finally began to adjust and he turned to his right to see that boy, the Prince, standing a short distance away. The sun beamed down onto his fair head, making the jewels on his circlet sparkle and his skin gleam. His tunica was a soft blue which suited him beautifully, but what really stood out was the sword in his hand that also glinted in the sunlight as he sparred with another, taller boy.

Heero was surprised to see such a delicate-looking creature actually wielding such a weapon and from the looks of it, he was good. He held his own against the larger boy and even disarmed him at one point. The Prince grinned victoriously at his opponent, a flash of white teeth and dimples and Heero was hopelessly spellbound. He nearly tripped as a guard shoved him, just managing to catch himself before he fell flat on his face. He shuffled forward, but not before he caught the Prince glancing over at him, his stunning smile fading, brows drawing down in a frown. His companion tried to recapture his attention to no avail and Heero's eyes shifted to the other boy as he looked in their direction.

He wondered if they were brothers, but they looked nothing alike. Maybe half-brothers, or just friends, or maybe they were more. Heero was a little startled to feel a surge of jealousy at the thought that the quite attractive boy with the long, brown bangs might be a lover to the young Prince.

He was jolted from his musings with another shove at his back. The guard snarled, "Move it, cur! And take your eyes off our Prince. You are not worthy." Heero's lip curled at the insult and he stumbled forward, walking as quickly as he could in the chains.

He caught Wufei's look and his friend murmured, "So that's the Ghalian Prince?"

Heero nodded. "Apparently."

Wufei let out a soft whistle. "So the stories about his beauty are true. I always thought those stories existed to hide the fact that the Prince was uglier than a buck-toothed mare on her last legs. Guess I was wrong."

Wufei staggered as he was shoved. "Do not speak of our Prince that way unless you want to lose your head."

"Thought I was already going to," Wufei muttered.

Treize didn't miss the way the brown-haired prisoner and his betrothed looked at each other. He'd seen the fascination in the prisoner's eyes when he gazed at the Prince and his jaw clenched when the Prince seemed to be equally fascinated. He ground his teeth together in barely-contained rage. That was something that was never going to happen. It was ridiculous. A peasant and a Prince? What nonsense! No matter. Before this day was over, the prisoners would be convicted of their crimes and by sunrise the next day, they would be hanging in the town square.

His betrothed would be furious. Would likely lash out at him. But it was time to start nipping that in the bud. He was the future king of Ghali, not the Prince. He would never allow Quatre that kind of authority. Once they were wed, he would do away with King Zayeed and take the throne for himself. The people of Ghali would kneel at his feet, including his husband.

His eyes slid closed as his mind graced him with delightful images of the Prince, bared and spread out among the silk sheets of his bed. The contrast of that creamy skin against the black of the bed covers sinfully erotic. He would decorate him in the most delicate fabrics and jewels and watch them sparkle the way his tears would sparkle in the low light of their chambers. The boy would learn. Oh, yes. He would learn to please him, opening those slender legs in supplication and whimpering as he was taken over and and over, the skin of his neck rubbed raw beneath the collar that would adorn his tender throat.

Their wedding was only a month away and Treize could almost taste the power laid out in front of him, paved in gold. Soon, the throne would be his. Everything he'd ever worked to achieve was just within arm's reach. The kingdom was as good as his, the Prince was as good as his, and soon the surrounding kingdoms would also be his. He would conquer Sai, Borsten, Emali, and the neighboring territories. He would single-handedly rule his empire with an iron fist. All of his people bowing before him and his husband, his beautiful concubine, kneeling at his feet, warming his bed.

But for now, there was work to do. Criminals to convict. He let the lingering gazes between the prisoner and his betrothed fuel his candor. Providing just enough fodder to feed his jealousy and strengthen his determination to see that boy hanging in the gallows by sunrise. He glared at the kid's back as he shambled forward in his chains. The boy sensed it and looked over his shoulder and for a split second, they were equals. Opponents facing off for the grand prize.

Heero instantly knew the General was jealous. Knew he didn't miss the looks between himself and the Prince and the man was furious. It seemed the General was harboring feelings of a more scandalous nature towards the Prince. Despite his disadvantaged position, Heero couldn't help but antagonize him. He raised a brow, his mouth curling up in a smirk. The mischievous gleam in his eyes communicated his thoughts perfectly.

Oh, you saw that, too? Seems your Prince has taken a bit of a fancy to me. Does that bother you?

He almost laughed at the murderous look in the man's eyes. There was definitely more going on between the two of them, though he wondered what it was exactly. Was it mutual? Something told him it wasn't. Was it something the Prince knew about? He had no idea, but he found himself strangely curious.

They were pushed into the courtroom, Heero being manhandled by the General himself as he was roughly shoved into a chair. The chains dangling from his wrists were wrapped around the wooden arms and locked with padlocks. The General leaned over him, putting his mouth against Heero's ear. He hissed, the hot breath causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. "I saw the way you looked at him. You have not the right to gaze upon such beauty, you lowlife cur. Only in your dreams could you possibly hope to possess such a creature."

Heero turned his head and looked him straight in the eye. "It seems he doesn't feel the same," he said with a calm air of superiority that made the General shake with fury. His hand fisted in the collar of Heero's shirt and he yanked on the material hard enough to tear it.

"That is my betrothed you speak of! The day you are allowed to gaze upon him and speak of him in such a way is the day you will lose your head!"

Heero was shocked by the revelation that the two were engaged though he hid it well. The Prince was still so young, so much younger than the General. But was it something he wanted? His instincts told him it wasn’t and that made him angry for reasons he was reluctant to address. He turned away and faced forward, pulling his shoulder away from the tight grasp of the General's hand. When he spoke, his voice was soft, nonchalant, but firm. "It also seems he is not as thrilled about the arrangement as you."

The General sputtered. "How dare you! What could someone so lowly, someone who isn't worth the dirt upon my shoe, know about such things? Filthy cur! You know nothing."

Heero regarded him mildly. "For someone so low, you sure seem upset about what I think."

He sneered. "Don't flatter yourself, disgusting peasant. You are nothing. Nothing to me and you are most certainly nothing to the Prince."

"Which wouldn't be anything new consider how you people look down your noses at anyone who isn't Ghalian."

The General's lip curled up in a savage smirk and his eyes gleamed. "That's right. You are not Ghalian, you will never be Ghalian. We are a magnificent race, something you lowly Saians will never understand."

"And I'm quite proud of that."

The General stood up swiftly, releasing Heero with a shove against the back of the chair as the Court Marshal entered the room. With a final glance down at the prisoner, he said, "Enjoy your day, for it will be your last." He stepped away before Heero could retort and he stared straight ahead as Wufei leaned across his chair.

"What the hell was all that about?"

"Nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing."

The hearing proceeded just as Heero thought it would. They were given no chance to take the stand to defend themselves and were convicted of plotting to kill King Zayeed in less than an hour after having to listen to the court officers, including the General, grandstanding about the importance of keeping Ghali safe from the savages of Sai. Wufei sat, red-faced with rage as the guilty verdict was read and protested loudly as they were yanked out of their chairs, dragged back through the courthouse and out the back where they would spent their final night inside a cell to await execution at first light.

"This is not right! You cannot do this to us! We weren't even allowed to defend ourselves you snotty, no-good, deceitful, evil, maniacal, bottom feeders! This is not justice! You wouldn't know justice if it -" He took a wooden staff to the side of his face for his contempt. He fell to his knees, spitting blood, a large red-welt that would soon turn into a nasty bruise along his cheek. Heero struggled in the guards' grasp in a desperate attempt to defend his friend, screaming his rage through clenched teeth as Wufei was struck again and again.

Shouting turned his attention away from the scene. He glanced up to see the Prince running over, screaming at the guards to stop. He shoved at the one with the staff, face red with anger. "Stop that! What is wrong with you? Leave him alone!"

The guard was shocked into silence, his mouth gaping like a fish. "Your Highness -"

"Give me that," the Prince swiped the staff out of his hands. "I'm of half a mind to hit you with this myself! How would you like that?" Treize held back a moment, watching with amusement.

"Your Highness...he is nothing but a filthy Saian and he was disrespectful -"

"It doesn't warrant you beating an unarmed boy! I don't care what he said. You will never strike a prisoner like that again!"

"Quatre," Treize stepped forward, making sure to send Heero a loaded look as he took the Prince's elbow in a firm hand. "He is only doing his job. The boy must be punished for his insolence -"

"This is your doing!" The Prince turned on the General and Heero watched in fascination as this tiny, delicate-seeming boy squared off viciously to a man easily twice his size. He was even more sure now that this ‘betrothal’ was not a mutual thing. "Do you honestly have nothing better to do than to go around bullying and beating up on unarmed boys? What is the matter with you?"

Treize was flushing with mortification at being berated by the small boy in front of his men. Especially in front of the prisoners. He didn't miss the smirk on the brown-haired boy's face and his eyes flashed with the promise of pain. He grabbed the Prince's arm and pulled him away, glancing at the guards over his shoulder. "Take them to their cells."

Heero watched as the man dragged the loudly protesting boy further away from him and he suddenly felt sorry for the young Prince. For a Ghalian, he was deeply concerned about the welfare of others and that was something Heero never expected to see. He also felt a twinge of righteous anger at the prospect that this beautiful boy was being thrust into a marriage he didn't want. He found himself suddenly deeply worried for the Prince's well being and wondered if the King was aware of this situation.

Wufei was hauled back onto this feet, his face bruised and bleeding. He spat a gob of blood and mucus onto a guard's shoes and grimaced around his red-stained teeth.

Heero began walking again as he was shoved forward, glancing worriedly at his friend. "Are you okay?"

Wufei grunted. "Never been better."

~ * ~

Chapter 6

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