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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 " Chapter 6: Desperation Warning: This chapter contains Rape/Non con
Quatre hollered all the way back to the castle as Treize dragged him along by the arm. He was furious, outraged to see those prisoners treated so badly and he loathed Treize for encouraging it. He couldn't believe his father condoned this kind of behavior. To hurt a couple of unarmed boys who were chained, no less, was unforgivable and he was so ashamed of his own kind for thinking any of this was okay. Mortified to be among them. He'd caught the gaze of the blue-eyed boy as they were led away in opposite directions and he didn't miss the dark look the Saian had shot their way. He shivered at the intensity of his eyes as they'd stared into his own. There'd been something there. Some sort of...interest, he thought. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but he felt terrible about what the boy and his friend were being put through. Wasn't he also responsible? He was a Ghalian and this reflected badly on all of them. He was riddled with guilt that his own people would act this way. He yanked his arm out of Treize's grasp as the General pulled him into an empty room and swung him around to face him. His eyes were alight with anger, his face flushed a furious red. He pointed a shaking finger in Quatre's face and snarled, "Don't you ever talk to me that way, or override my authority over my men again. Do you understand me?" Quatre lifted his chin, a scornful expression on his face. "I outrank you." "I am the head of the military and those soldiers are under my command. Not yours. You will never disrespect me in front of them like that again!" Quatre lifted a brow. "Then perhaps you and your men should begin behaving in a manner more becoming of someone who deserves respect." His head swung to the side as Treize struck him with an open hand. "You insolent little - what do you know about such things? Hmmm? You have no military background. You are a pampered, spoiled child who knows not of the ways of the world." "If I'm so useless, then call off the engagement," Quatre challenged. Treize paused, his eyes traveling over Quatre's face. He lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his fingers over the boy's inflamed cheek. Quatre took it without flinching, staring back with defiant eyes, daring the General to do just that. He gasped as Treize's hand suddenly reached behind his head and grabbed a handful of blond hair. Treize used the leverage to tilt his head back as he pressed their chests together, his face hovering over the boy's. Quatre sucked air in through clenched teeth, his eyes watering from the pain. Treize's other hand rose up, index finger extended, and traced along Quatre's lips. He couldn't suppress the shudder of revulsion, the impulse to bite the digit overwhelming. "No," Treize murmured. His breath ghosted across Quatre's face. "That's exactly what you want me to do. You are useful. You will be very useful to me." He leaned down and nipped at the boy's plush cupid bow. "When you're lying beneath me." Quatre struggled then, trying to wrench the hand out of his hair. "Let me go!" He yelped as he was backed into the wall and hoisted up into the General's arms. Those revolting hands sifted through the folds of his tunica, fumbling for the soft skin beneath. He snaked his hand between the boy's open thighs. Quatre's legs kicked uselessly on either side of Treize's waist as a finger forced its way inside him. He hissed through his teeth at the violation, trying to hide inside the wall as he felt the man's erection grinding into the soft crease between his groin and thigh. The General's mouth was clamped onto the side of his neck and the man growled as he rubbed against him, thrusting one finger, then two inside the boy. Quatre struck out at him, punching and scratching. Treize grasped his flailing wrists in unforgiving hands, using one large one to pin them against the wall over his head. Quatre cursed as he heard the telltale clinking sound of buckles being released. He shouted in helpless fury as he felt the General's unclothed erection pressing up into his backside, seeking entry. He was pinned fast to the wall, barely able to move an inch as the tip of Treize's penis made contact with his opening. He did the only thing there was left to do. "Please. Please don't do this. I beg you. I promise I'll - I'll give myself over to you willingly on our wedding night, but please not before. Treize, beloved, please!" The ‘beloved’ made him pause and Quatre thought he might actually listen. Encouraged, he continued, "I'll give you anything you want. I'll let you do whatever you want as soon as we're wed, but please don't do this." Treize huffed raspy breaths against his neck and he waited, frozen, to see if he would be let go. Then Treize said, "Yes. You will," and pressed his hips forward. Quatre screamed at the top of his lungs as he was painfully violated. *** The rape mercifully only lasted a few minutes, but it had been a few minutes that seemed to stretch on forever, every moment pure agony. Quatre made it perfectly clear through the entire ordeal how much he hated Treize, cursing him to every level of Hell and back. Treize growled, too far gone in his lust to care, his hips pushing roughly against the boy. When it was over, Quatre hung limply against the wall, still pinned by Treize's weight and waited for the man to collect himself as he panted against his neck. He kept his head turned to the side, eyes down, refusing to look at the General as he was finally lowered to the floor on shaking legs. His hands trembled as he worked to arrange the skirt of his tunica back over himself, trying to straighten his clothing as best he could. He shivered as he felt Treize's spent seed sliding down the backs of his thighs, desperately wanting a bath and Trowa’s arms. Treize watched him with cold eyes as he fastened himself back into his trousers. He was elated, deliriously sated, finally able to get the pleasure from the body he'd wanted for so long. He connected his belt buckles and reached out for the boy, grasping his chin in a calloused hand and lifting his head. He bent down to press a chaste kiss against Quatre's mouth and whispered against the quivering lips. "Remember this when you decide you want to disrespect me in public again, beloved." He straightened up and left the room, leaving the door wide open so passersby could see their disheveled Prince shakily trying to pull himself together. Quatre slammed the door closed, suddenly so overcome with rage, he couldn't see straight. He slid down the wall, brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face between them, frantically wracking his brain to come up with a solution, a way out of this. He could run away, but how far would he honestly get before they found him? He'd never been out there before, had no idea where he was going. The surrounding kingdoms would never take in a wayward Ghalian, let alone be willing to provide sanctuary for their runaway Prince. That was just asking for trouble. He really had nowhere to go, no one to turn to who could help him. He struggled to his feet, so infuriated with this futile situation, with his own apparent helplessness and he spun around, driving his fist through the wall, shouting and cursing everyone he could think of. He punched the wall again and again until he could no longer feel his hand. He was surprised when he looked down to see it covered in blood, his knuckles torn up and swelling from the force of the hits. Strangely, though, he felt no pain. No pain other than what was in his heart. He leaned against the wall and gazed up at the ceiling. God, is there nothing I can do? There has to be something! The idea came to him almost instantly, like a beacon of hope and he sucked in a breath as the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. He had to get married. Had to get married very soon, to someone who wasn't the General. A marriage would be the perfect way to null their betrothal. Render it meaningless. But who could he possibly marry? His first thought was Trowa, but that was impossible, though he wished it could be so. Unfortunately, Trowa was a servant and there was no holy man in Ghali who would perform a marriage ceremony between their Prince and his servant. Messy, dark brown hair and intense blue eyes, the color of a twilight sky, emerged in his mind's eye. Was it possible? He was a peasant, but he was a free man. It could work if he could find a holy man who would agree to it. He was fairly certain he knew a man that would wed them. They had to be married by an Imam. It was the only way the marriage would be valid and break the betrothal. He had to consider though that the boy was not likely going to just up and marry him. It would enter him in a binding contract with a Ghalian and he'd made it perfectly clear that he did not like Ghalians. What reason would he have to agree to the proposal? Quatre had to offer him something of value. He remembered the conversation with his father the day before and shuddered. He had been the bargaining chip in the contract between his father and the General. Would he have to offer himself to this boy the same way he was required to do for the General? The idea that he would didn't fill him with as much revulsion that he thought it would. He was much more willing to give himself to that boy than he was the General, despite knowing nothing about him. Though Quatre had seen it in the boy's eyes. He wasn't a bad person. He wasn't evil. He didn't abuse, rape, murder people in cold blood. His father had mocked his gut feelings, but Quatre knew they were credible. His gut instincts had served him well over the years and he was sure he was making the right decision. He would gladly offered himself to the boy if that was what it took to get himself out of Treize's clutches. But, maybe the boy didn't want him. The possibility occurred to him and he didn't know what he would do if that was the case, though he was pretty certain he'd seen a flash of interest, of desire, in those dark blue eyes. Quatre was no stranger to that. He was often leered at, gazed at with hungry eyes, even groped at times. He knew what desire looked like and he was sure that was what he saw in that boy's eyes. But in the off chance he wasn't interested in that, Quatre had to think of something offer him, something the boy would actually want. Something that would make this arrangement worth it for him. He'd have to cross that bridge when he got to it. In the meantime, his now throbbing hand needing tending to. He picked up the edge of his tunica, wrapping it around his hand and left the room in search of Trowa. If he was going to pull this off, he'd need help, and the only person he could trust was Trowa. He found him in the sparring room, dutifully placing their dueling swords back on their mounts after thoroughly cleaning and shining them. He turned as Quatre came in, his eyes widening at his Prince's rumpled state and the fact that his tunica was lifted up and wrapped around his hand. He rushed forward, his expression full of worry. That was something Quatre loved about him. His emotions were always plain to see. He held nothing back, especially when it came to Quatre. "Quat? What happened? Are you alright?" Trowa took his hand and carefully unwrapped it, gasping at the amount of blood, the swelling. "What did you do?" "I had a little run-in with a wall." Quatre was looking down, a blush blooming across his cheeks, though Trowa didn't miss the angry swath of deep red on the same cheek he'd been struck on the morning before. He brushed it with gentle fingers, apologizing profusely when Quatre flinched and looked at him with mournful eyes. "What happened, Quat?" He tried the hold the tears in, save them for when he was alone in his chambers that night, but Trowa touched his heartstrings in ways that always made him confess his secrets. His gentle voice, gentle touch, his kind, caring nature. The fact that someone actually cared about him. Him. Not what he could give them. He choked as the emotion burst out of his chest and up into his throat and he unleashed a hoarse sob against his own will. The tears came, unbidden, and he couldn't stop them, spilling down his heated cheeks. Trowa gathered him into strong arms and Quatre never wanted to leave. It was the only place he felt safe. "Quat, please talk to me. You're scaring me." It wasn't often that Quatre lost his composure so this outburst was unusual and unnerving for the servant. "It was Treize. He -" He couldn't say it, but he knew Trowa had connected the dots. He heard the hitch of breath, the hesitance. "Did he..." Unable to speak, Quatre nodded into this chest and wept. Trowa held him close, rocking him back and forth, desperately trying to soothe him. Quatre took a few minutes to get the worst of the agony out of him and then he pulled back, wiping his face on his hands before he remembered the blood. He glanced up at Trowa. "I have blood on my face now, don't I?" Trowa nodded, his eyes sad, and he used the hem of his own tunica to wipe the blood off his Prince's cheek. "Come on. I need to clean and bandage your hand." "We need to talk as well." Trowa glanced up at him and waited. Quatre shook his head. "Not here. In private. We'll go to your chambers and you can take care of my hand there." Trowa nodded and helped him to his feet, deeply disturbed about the attack. He knew it had been only a matter of time before Quatre was unable to fight off the General and it seemed that time had come. He was shaking, so enraged that his beloved Prince had been so brutally violated, even more so when he'd been helpless, was helpless to stop it. With this success, Treize would only become more bold now and that terrified him. The attempt the previous morning wasn’t the first time Treize had tried to bed the Prince and Trowa had been forced to listen to the struggle from the next room. He didn’t know how he was going to get though another attack without impaling the General on his sword. And if that happened, he would surely face execution. He escorted Quatre through the rear corridors of the castle, trying to keep him out of the main traffic areas and out of sight from prying eyes. They made it to Trowa's chambers without incident. Treize was known to storm into Quatre's chambers uninvited, but he'd never bothered with Trowa's. It was the safest place to go for privacy. Quatre sat down on the edge of Trowa’s bed as his servant brought over a ceramic bowl of water warmed by the fire he'd built and several soft cloths as well as a roll of bandages. He gently cleaned the cuts on Quatre's knuckles, cursing Treize and lamenting over the bruised, swollen skin as he removed all traces of blood. "This is going to bruise quite badly, but I don't think you broke anything." He placed the edge of the roll of bandages on the injury and wound it around Quatre's hand, then tucked the other end beneath the top several layers. "I want you to take this off when you go to sleep so it can dry up and scab over. Then, in the morning I'll rewrap it." Trowa shot him a wry look. "And try not to get into anymore fights with the walls." Quatre couldn't help the small grin, or the slight chuckle despite feeling utterly miserable. He thanked Trowa for treating his hand and leaned his head on his servant's shoulder, seeking comfort that Trowa readily gave. Trowa didn't want to ask it, but he knew he had to. Just in case. "Are you injured...anywhere -" "No. I'm fine." Quatre's voice instantly shut down any further questions. Trowa nodded and rested his face into the soft curls on the crown of Quatre's head. He closed his eyes and breathed in the boy's scent. He didn't know what to do about this situation with the General. He knew he couldn't allow it to continue and told Quatre as much. Quatre lifted his head and fixed him with a firm look. "I told you I don't want you personally involved. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." "I don't know what I'll do if this continues to happen to you." "Still, I have more standing, more authority. You are a servant. They would execute you without a second thought. It's far too dangerous, Trowa. Besides, I think I have an idea." Trowa's eyes gleamed with hope. "What is it?" "I have to get married." He almost laughed at Trowa's confused look. "I have to find someone else to wed, soon. It would break the betrothal." "Yes, but...then you'll wind up in a similar situation with someone else." He wanted to volunteer. He'd do it in a heartbeat. And he'd never hurt Quatre, never force him to do something he didn't want to do. But being a servant, it could never happen. The impossibility hurt his heart. "Not necessarily. I have someone in mind. Someone who I think would do it given the proper...motivation." "Who?" "That prisoner I was telling you about -" "Quat, no! He's a Saian! They're even worse than the General." Quatre looked into his eyes, his own firm, and shook his head. "No, I think you're wrong about that." "But why risk it?" "Do you trust me, Trowa?" "Quat -" "Do you trust me?" "Yes, of course I do! But -" "Then trust me when I tell you it will be okay. It's the only way I can get out of this." "Quat, please don't ask me to help you with this. I'd never be able to live with myself if that - that Saian hurt you." Quatre cupped Trowa's cheek with his uninjured hand, stroking over a beautifully sculpted cheekbone with his thumb. "I don't believe he will. In fact I'm sure of it. He won't hurt me. He's not like that." "How do you know, though?" "Call it intuition." "Quat -" "Enough arguing. My decision is made and that's final. The only question left is, are you going to help me, or am I going to do this myself?"
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