It was already warm when the sun rose over the horizon, indicative of an oppressively hot day. Heero had a rude awakening when guards burst into the Prince's chambers early that morning, General Treize at the helm.
"Get up, Your Highness." He dragged the 'Highness' out, sneering condescendingly and Heero's hackles rose, instincts driving him to defend the Prince from the sadistic man. He glared at him and Treize smiled, eyes beady, shark-like. Quatre simply rolled over and got up with little fuss. He'd resigned himself to his punishment and he was ready to take it.
"I'll be out in a moment," he said. His voice was dull, lifeless and he refused to look anyone in the eye. Treize and his men smirked and left the room, leaving them alone.
Heero’s pulse hammered between his temples. "Quatre, you shouldn't have to do this."
Quatre looked up and Heero was momentarily stunned by the Prince’s beauty, and by the resolved look in his eyes. "I defied my father and I broke the law by releasing you and Wufei from the dungeons. I must answer for that. I am no more exempt from retribution than anyone else."
Heero swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"
"I knew I would be punished. I just didn't know how." He glanced up at Heero as he slid his nightshirt off. Heero turned away and coughed awkwardly. Apparently Ghalians weren't too worried about modesty. He ignored the part of his brain that berated him for looking away and jumped when Quatre shouted, "Trowa!"
Almost as if he'd been waiting for his cue, and Heero realized he must have been, the door at the other side of the room swung open and the tall servant rushed in, grasping the Prince's hands, his eyes misty. "Quat -"
"Help me get ready," Quatre slid a pale orange tunica over his head and turned so Trowa could secure the long wraps. "Leave the back open," he said with the same toneless voice. Trowa whimpered, tears sliding down his cheeks as he draped them over the Prince's shoulder and wrapped them around his waist, tying them off. It left most of Quatre's smooth, pale back exposed. That beautiful back that was about to receive sixteen lashes. One for every year of his life. It was so horrendously wrong.
Quatre stared straight ahead, stoic, as Trowa wept over him, placing the ever-present circlet on top of his head. Heero watched as Quatre cupped his servant's face and pressed a chaste kiss to the trembling lips. He felt his own heart break at the emotional scene, had to swallow down the lump in his throat as Quatre whispered. "Don't you be sad now. We all have our duties. This is mine. This is my burden to bear and I will see it through." Trowa sniffled, stifling a sob, his arms wrapping around his Prince. He wept into the blond hair and Quatre comforted him through it. Heero felt like he was intruding on such an intimate moment and he turned away, trying to give them some semblance of privacy.
He had to acknowledge his burgeoning respect for the Prince. He was like no Ghalian he'd ever met before. This boy was truly an incredible person. Strong, so damn strong, caring and compassionate. He did what was right, not for himself, but for those he cared about. He took responsibility for his own actions and faced his fears with a steady conscience. Heero bowed his head, feeling utterly humbled to be in his presence, to be his husband.
He turned as he heard Quatre whisper, "I don't want you to watch this. You understand?" He looked over his shoulder at Heero. "I don't want him to see it. Please be sure he doesn't." He stroked the back of Trowa's head, his eyes begging Heero to see to it that his servant wasn't subjected to the violence of what was about to happen. Heero nodded, in awe of this magnificent creature, fully understanding why he was so revered.
"Good." He turned back to Trowa and kissed the top of his head. "I have to go now."
Trowa keened and clutched him closer. "I love you."
Quatre smiled. "I love you, too. Always." He expertly maneuvered himself out of his servant's grasp and faced Heero. The two watched each other across the room and Heero wanted to reach out for him. To protect him, stop this atrocity from happening. Quatre gave him a nod and turned to leave, pulling the doors open, greeted by the General and his men. Treize gripped his arm, hard enough to bruise the porcelain skin and Heero's jaw clenched in anger as the Prince was roughly dragged away. The General shot him a look over his shoulder, a smug expression on his face and Heero's lip curled, wanting so badly to launch himself over the bed and take Quatre’s place.
He realized Quatre was right. They all had their duties. And Heero's duty was to see to it that these things no longer happened. His duty was to remove these evil men from power, once and for all. He turned as Trowa dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands and Heero felt so terrible for him. He stepped over to the servant. Trowa looked up, his eyes despondent and so desperate. Heero knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I know you blame me for this. I don't fault you, but I promise you. This is going to stop."
Trowa's head lifted higher and he stared Heero down. "I wanted to be the one to marry him. To love him and take care of him. I - I couldn't because I'm a servant. That honor goes to you and I sincerely hope you realize what an honor it actually is. You have something with him I will never have and I hate you for it. I hate you so much, I could spit blood. But I must respect you and I will do so as I am expected to. But I do it only for him. Because I would do anything for him." His eyes darkened, flickering like green fire. "If you ever hurt him in any way, I will kill you, just like I'm going to kill the General."
Heero pulled back, shocked. Did this servant actually just say he was going to kill the General? Trowa read his thoughts perfectly and nodded. "Oh, yes. You may have the King, but the General. That honor belongs to me. It's more personal to me than you'll ever know."
Heero looked into those fierce eyes and saw the truth of his words, the soldier that never was. The promise of pain and death was there and it had Treize's name written all over it. Heero dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "I will respect that. He is all yours." He had no doubt that Trowa was going to make good on his promise. He rose to his feet and went for the door, intent on being there for the Prince even though the knowledge of what he was about to witness make his stomach churn, his skin crawl. He looked at Trowa one last time. "Stay here."
Trowa nodded. "I will. But I want him brought back here when it's over. I do not want the King's physicians to touch him. I will tend to his injuries and I will heal him. Please see to it that those doctors do not lay a hand on him. I will be ready to receive him when you return." He stood up and walked through the adjoining doorway back to his own chambers and Heero left the room, walking with a sudden urgency down the winding hallways, almost getting lost a few times. He cursed as he came upon a set of doors he was sure he'd already passed at least twice. He jumped and spun around when a low voice spoke behind him.
The tall man that he'd seen in the dungeons before, the Lieutenant with the expressive blue eyes, who beat them, even though Heero knew he didn't really want to. He stood firm, holding his ground as the Lieutenant stepped closer. His arm rose up and he pointed down another hallway. “The courtyard is that way. To the right, down the stairs, and then left.”
Heero gave a sharp nod. "Thanks." He turned down the hall, but stopped as the deep voice spoke up again.
"I suppose I should call you Your Highness, though it leaves a bad taste in my mouth." Heero turned, his eyes narrowing. "Still, the Prince must have chosen you for a reason. He stuck his neck out for you and he is reaping that decision. I hope you understand the scope of what he did for you. If not for him, you would be hanging in the town square instead of him facing a lashing."
Heero nodded. "I will never forget what he did for me and my friend."
The Lieutenant stepped closer, his voice a mere whisper. "There's talk of a revolution. A reckoning that is long overdue. When the Prince is better, we will meet again. We have much to discuss." He turned away and walked down the hallway, leaving Heero standing there with his jaw on the floor. Did the First Lieutenant of the Ghalian army just inform me of an impending uprising?
He continued on down the hallway, having no time to ponder on that for the moment and followed the Lieutenant's directions out to the courtyard and ran across the castle grounds where he caught a glimpse of a gathering crowd and the murmur of many voices. He weaved through the congregated group of people until he reached the front, stopping short as he spotted the Prince standing in the middle of the gathering, surrounded by soldiers. In the center of the space stood a tall pole. Long chains were attached to it and hung down, waiting for their next victim.
Heero's heart pounded as he observed Quatre who stood with his chin held high, beautiful and proud. Not the least bit ashamed of what he'd done. He saw the King standing on a steep platform, with what Heero assumed were his closet advisers on either side of him. He watched his son with cold eyes and Heero hated the man more than he could have ever imagined. How he could stand by and allow this to happen, to encourage it, was beyond Heero.
He glanced around at the crowd, trying to get a feel for the general mood of the people of Ghali. There were a few who looked as though they supported this ridiculous spectacle, nodding their heads with smug expressions. The rest, though, he was surprised to note, looked shocked, almost sad, whispering among themselves. Some were even crying. Heero had the dawning realization of how much the people of the Kingdom loved their Prince. He was a symbol of radiance, love, and peace and Heero got the distinct sense that Quatre was being heralded as a martyr.
He watched as Treize clutched Quatre's arm and dragged him over to the pole. Quatre didn't fight him, allowed himself to be manhandled into position. Another guard grabbed the chains and looped them around Quatre's waist and the pole, then wrapped them around his arms and fastened the locks onto his wrists so he was held fast to the pole, not able to move more than an inch, or two. Treize stood behind him and gripped the fabric that was draped over the Prince's shoulder and yanked it down. It ripped and drifted down to the ground, leaving Quatre's upper body completely bare. Heero caught his gaze and saw the determination, the strength in those eyes and he dipped his head in a gesture of respect. His own eyes communicated what he could not say.
Thank you.
Quatre blinked at him and nodded back, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment and then his eyes lowered to the ground as he waited for his punishment to begin. A hush settled over the gathered crowd as King Zayeed stepped forward, the golden crown on his head glinting in the sun. He lifted his arms and Heero almost rolled his eyes at the dramatic flair.
"My people! My wonderful Ghalians! We are gathered here today because my son, your Prince, broke the law. And as your King, I am required to uphold our laws, no matter who breaks them. Your Prince betrayed you!" He held up his hands as the crowd stirred. "He went behind my back to break his betrothal to your General, a fine man who will stop at nothing to protect us. He and I only want what is best for Ghali." He pointed at Quatre who stood with his eyes closed. Heero could see a muscle in his jaw twitch. "But he, your Prince, does not." The crowd erupted with sounds of shock and grief and Heero clenched his teeth.
Don't listen to him you fools!
The King continued, "He went behind my back, our backs, and married a Saian!" Heero's spine stiffened as the King's finger pointed at him and suddenly, the entire kingdom's attention was focused on him. The crowd roared in outrage, betrayal. The King waved his hands downward to calm them. "He is your Prince as well now." Heero could hear the shouts of, "No!" and "Not my Prince!"
"The law is the law, my beloved people. We must follow it. He is your Prince and he is my son's husband. I must respect that, but! Not before my son is punished for his insolence!" Heero watched as some of the men raised their fists in the air, shouting in agreement. Many others were glancing at Heero in a diverse mixture of anger, outrage, shock. But there was also fascination. They were intrigued by him. And still, many of the people were heartbroken over what their Prince would have to endure. Their opinions not changed by the King's speech.
King Zayeed motioned to General Treize and he held out a hand as a servant scurried over and placed a leather switch into his palm. The crowd grew silent, some of the women turning away, unable to look. Heero watched Treize step closer to the Prince, pressing his body over Quatre's back and Heero had to exercise monumental self-control not to charge over there and deliver his fist to the General's face. Treize leaned down, whispering something into Quatre's ear. The boy's eyes opened and flicked up, meeting Heero's, but his brows were drawn low in anger. He turned his head as far away from the General's as he could and said nothing in response.
Treize stepped back and walked several paces before he turned around and shook his hand out. The long tail of the switch undulating like the body of a snake. Heero held his breath, heart in his throat and he caught Quatre's look, held his gaze as Treize drew his arm back, then swung it forward, the end of the switch making contact with Quatre's back with a sharp crack. Quatre barely moved, didn't react other than to bite his lip, his gaze still steady as he stared into Heero's eyes. The whip struck him again and Heero could see the pain in his eyes then. A third strike and Quatre could no longer continue looking at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as the fourth strike cut into him. Heero could see his legs shaking, his fingers curled into tight fists.
Quatre never cried out, never wept. He remained silent as the whip made contact with his back time and time again. Treize was furious that he couldn't seem to get a sound out of him, wanting so desperately to hear the boy scream. Heero felt a vicious sort of vindication that the bastard wasn't getting what he wanted and a strange sense of pride to be married to this boy. Each swing of Treize's arm came back harder and harder and he growled as he still couldn't illicit even a whimper from the boy. Half the crowd was weeping, the other half was wide-eyed with awe as Quatre endured each strike.
After the sixteenth lash, Treize threw the switch down into the dirt and strode forward. Heero tensed, ready to spring into action. The General walked up behind Quatre and shoved his hand into the boy's shredded back. Quatre hissed through his teeth, his head tipping back from the pain, but still made no sound. Heero had had enough.
"Stop!"
Treize looked up in surprise, his hand dropping to his side and, Heero didn't fail to notice it was covered in blood. His eyes darkened as Heero stalked towards them, anger in every angle of his body. He stopped in front of them and growled low and threatening.
"The punishment is over. Enough."
For a moment, he thought Treize was going to charge him. The man's nostrils flared in outrage that this kid, this Saian would dare speak to him that way in front of the whole kingdom. Then he snarled and spun on his heel, walking back towards the castle, shoving through the crowd as they tried to part to let him through. Heero looked over to the guard and said sharply, "Release him. Now."
The guard scrambled forward, fumbling with the keys as he turned them into the locks around Quatre's wrists. The Prince slid down to his knees in the dirt, his head hanging low, shoulders heaving. Heero knelt down in front of him and touched his chin. His heart ached as the boy flinched and he whispered, "Hey. It's okay now. It's over." Quatre shakily lifted his head and looked at him with eyes that belied the pain he was in. Heero carefully removed the chains from around his arms and waist. "Come on. I'm getting you out of here. Trowa's waiting for us."
Quatre's head shook, slurring when he spoke. "No...no. Don' wan' 'm to see this."
"Tough luck. He made it very clear that no one else is allowed to heal you and I'm respecting that." He shot the King a glare as he watched silently from the platform. Heero turned his back and crouched down in front of Quatre, grabbing the boy's arms and pulling them over his shoulders. Then he stood up slowly, careful not to jar the boy too much as he lifted him onto his back. Quatre didn't argue, only let out a painful groan as he was hoisted up and Heero walked back towards the castle, barking at the spectators who stood with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Heero sneered at them. You pathetic bunch of sheep!
"Move," he barked.
The crowd obediently parted, and Heero walked through the narrow path. He could see their confused and fearful faces. Detected a modicum of respect on some of them. Heard the whispers as they lamented and wept over the Prince. Their hands reached out to touch him reverently, smooth his hair back, kiss his hands, but they were very careful not to touch his injured back.
Heero carried him back to the castle and all but snarled at the palace physicians and their reaching hands. He shoved his way through them, bringing him to Trowa's chambers as promised. Trowa was anxiously waiting for them and choked as his eyes landed on his beloved Prince.
"Oh, Quat," he whimpered, lowering his face to the sweaty, blond head. Quatre was unresponsive, unconscious from the pain as Trowa stroked his hair and wept over him. He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Put him on the bed.”
Trowa helped him gently lower the Prince onto his belly. The bed was covered in large cloths that had been laid out to catch the blood and keep the bedding from staining. He stepped back, allowing Trowa to take over, watching with a heavy heart as Trowa's hands shook with grief, tears sliding down his cheeks as he brushed Quatre's hair back and kissed his fevered forehead. Quatre was out cold, which Heero was grateful for. The pain would be excruciating when he woke up, but for now, he was spared that. He breathed softly through parted lips, the knot between his brows smoothing out.
Heero cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do?" He felt useless and he wanted to help. Trowa glanced up at him in surprise, almost as if he'd forgotten Heero was in the room. His brows lowered in a frown.
"Yes. You can help me put a stop to all this."
"Granted. I would love to. But right now, I want to do something for him."
Trowa pointed towards a table where a ceramic bowl of steaming water sat along with a stack of white cloth. "I need to clean the wounds. The water is hot to kill any germs. It's best to do it now while he's unconscious. Dip one of those cloths in the water and give it to me."
Heero nodded and stepped over to the table, picking up the cloth on top of the pile and soaking it in the bowl, fingers burning at the heat. He wrung it out and handed it to Trowa who unfolded it and gently laid it over Quatre's back. The bleeding had slowed, but was still oozing sluggishly. His once smooth, beautiful back was completely torn up, Angry red gashes and broken skin criss-crossed along the expanse, the edges of the wounds beginning to bruise. He would scar. His back would never be the same. Heero was surprised to realize they made Quatre even more beautiful.
He dipped another cloth and Trowa laid it over another section. He watched the splotches of red soak into the once pure white fabric. Trowa cleaned Quatre's back gently, careful not to cause anymore injury. Quatre whimpered in his sleep every so often and Trowa soothed him with caressing hands and soft words.
Heero stood back, staying out of Trowa's way and planned his next move. Zechs had said something about a revolution. A reckoning. Heero was more intrigued than ever to find out what he was talking about. He had to speak with him and soon because this? This was unacceptable. It had to stop. He'd seen Trowa's rage over the situation and despite Quatre not wanting him to get involved, he knew how determined Trowa was to do just that. Even if it was at the expense of his own life. Heero had no intention of excluding the servant from any of his plans. Quatre could berate him about it, but Heero had decided that if Trowa wanted to fight back, he would allow it. Encourage him even. He would be a valuable asset in the fight to take down this evil empire.
There would be big changes coming to his kingdom. The day of reckoning almost upon them.