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"The Ancient Kingdom "Written By: Jewel of Hell Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' but these words Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, lemon (copious amounts, probably), slavery, magic, nekos, some smut, sap, peril, abuse, AU/Fantasy/Drama Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 4+2, 3+1, 5x6, 6+2, 5+1 (good grief!) Summary: When Heero, son of the Warrior
King, conquers the kingdom Sheneva and executes the king, he finds
something unexpected " The Ancient Kingdom "
Aqua eyes slowly opened and peered blearily around at their surroundings. Quatre was somewhat young for a Myda, relatively recently matured into an adult - and therefore capable of transforming into his wild form, which resembled a large golden leopard. His head throbbed. His throat was on fire, and it was so dry he wanted to start coughing. He fought the urge, knowing it would hurt, and lifted his head. This was not the tower. He could remember those humans finding them, of course. He remembered them taking him and his younger companion out of there on stretchers. But somewhere along the way he must have lost consciousness, because he could not remember being brought to a bed. For a moment anger and panic gripped him, but it was soothed a split second later when he saw the second bed right next to his, and there lay Duo. Duo was the youngest member of Quatre's clan. Myda lived in family groups similar in structure to a wolf pack, though there was no determined alpha leader. Duo was not a blood-relative, but his family had been accepted into Quatre's clan when the kitten's mother was pregnant with him. Quatre had vague memories of that time - he'd only been a kitten himself. He could remember his near-delirious glee at having a new friend to play with, because until that time he'd been the only kitten in the clan. He loved Duo fiercely. He'd grown up aggressively protective of his friend and clanmate, chasing away Myda outside of his clan and sometimes snapping at his own clanmates when they sequestered Duo. Duo seemed to delight in Quatre's company, and he had fond memories of the kitten following him everywhere. Which, ironically, was how Duo had been captured along with Quatre. He'd followed his friend right into the human trap. Weak with hunger and malnutrition, Quatre still found the strength to lever himself onto hands and knees and crawl across the beds to where Duo lay. His smaller friend was swathed in bandages, the terrible lashes covered in clean white strips. As he had so many times before, Duo's eyes flickered open with a faint sound, looking up at Quatre and trying to smile. Sometimes it almost broke Quatre's heart. That bright, shining spirit of his had not broken. Curling down aroung Duo, careful of the injured leg, he rested his head on top of Duo's and started purring. Duo nuzzled his nose into Quatre's neck and heaved a deep sigh. "How do you feel?" Quatre asked out loud, even though speaking ignited his throat. "Better," came the faint reply. They lay like this in silence for some time, Duo seeming comforted by Quatre's nearness and the continuous purr. Quatre was just beginning to doze when the door quietly opened and in stepped a man whose scent preceded him. A sorcerer-the smell of magic was deep in his blood-and the same one who'd freed him from that awful slave collar. o0o 0o0 Wufei, reading the document he was carrying, looked up and blinked in surprise to find not only one but both of the young Myda awake. The golden one was watching him, pale blue eyes clouded with a mixture of distrust, weariness, hatred, and pain. Wufei paused on the threshold, not quite sure how to proceed. Why didn't my sleep spell last? It should still be in effect. On both of them. There was the threat of violence in the Myda's eyes if he approached. At the moment Wufei wasn't worried about being hurt. But the Myda was so weak he could easily aggravate his own injuries. And those of his companion. His hesitation was agitating the Myda. He could see the first hints of muscles tensing. Lowering the documents and setting them on the table by the door, he took a few slow steps forward. Well aware Myda weren't dumb animals, he didn't try a soothing smile. He did keep his voice low, though. "Good morning. I'm surprised to see you awake. Are you feeling better? You still look worn out." The Myda stiffened, seeming a bit surprised to hear Wufei's voice. His mouth opened, but not to speak. A low growl issued from his throat, right on the tail of a soft hiss. He was feeling threatened, and despite his condition he was going to act on it. Wufei stopped moving. He really didn't want to spell them back to sleep. Magic affects were hard on an injured body. But the decision was being taken out of his hands. The golden one moved in just the wrong way and the darker one whimpered, eyes snapping open. He let out a hiss, and to Wufei's shock managed to rise. Partially, at least. That one really wasn't in any condition to be moved at all, so Wufei put his reservations aside. Keeping his hands still at his side, he cast the spell as gently as possible, hoping to settle it over them like a light net instead of drowning them in it. To his shock, it didn't work that way. The golden Myda leaned forward with a furious-sounding snarl, and the spell changed. Like light being refracted by a mirror, the magic signature was still his but the spell changed and was thrown back at him. Only, it was no longer a sleep-spell. Now it was an offensive pain spell, one meant to incapacitate quickly. Of course, based on the level of magic Wufei used it wouldn't have done more than give him a fierce headache, but . . . Reacting like lightning he caught the spell in a defensive web and dispersed the magic. This time he used a far more powerful dose, and instead of simply releasing it toward the pair he held on, directing the flow with a strong hand. The golden Myda still fought like mad to redirect the spell. After a moment the darker one added his strength, but both of them were appallingly weak. And Wufei was strong. He overwhelmed them after a brief battle and they collapsed into sleep. Wufei, not close enough to catch either one, winced when the golden one fell right on top of his companion. Shit, he thought, the crude curse the only fitting thing at the moment. He'd heard rumors that Myda could manipulate magic, but there were no confirmed incidences. Well, this pretty much confirmed it. And the gold had reacted fast. Lips twisting into a rueful smile, he pulled a small mirror out of his belt and held it up. Moments later the prince's attractive face appeared. "Wufei," Heero acknowledged. "What is it? Has something happened?" Wufei snorted softly. Heero, who was younger than Wufei by about a century, labored under the ridiculous impression that the sorcerer needed protecting. "In a manner of speaking. Would you mind sending Trowa to me? I could use his strength. The two Myda curled up around each other, and I need them apart so I can examine them thoroughly." Heero immediately looked appeased. Wufei couldn't help it and smiled. If you were a little older, and weren't the Warrior King's son, you would have been mine from when first we met. "Good. I will send him directly. How are they doing?" "Not well. Or perhaps better than I expected. Both of them were awake, and neither should have been. It will not be easy to convince them we mean them no harm, Heero. Even though I freed them both, they weren't willing to relax their guard. I had to put them both down again, which is never easy on an injured body." Heero looked troubled. "It's obvious they've been treated terribly. Do what you can for now, but don't forget I'm visiting the capital today. I need you by my side." Wufei smirked. "I haven't forgotten. Send your brother that I might finish in better time." Heero didn't even bother to call him on his familiar behavior. Trowa arrived only a few minutes later. He was, Wufei reflected, almost nothing like Heero. Trowa was silent and acquiescent, never questioning Heero's orders. Heero was confident, headstrong, and a born leader. Like night and day, light and shadow they complemented each other perfectly. Wufei, who had arrived in Venya ten years ago, remembered the scandalous gossip that had flown around the cities at the young Crown Prince demanding his father take in his bastard half-brother. But the pair did have similar qualities. Both had that quiet intensity about them. Both were dark haired, tall, and lithe. Both were honest. "Heero didn't tell me much," Trowa interrupted his musings, "but that you needed my strength?" Wufei blinked. "Yes. Would you mind moving the gold back to his own bed? I need a little space. Also, I could use your help holding them still." Trowa nodded his head and did as requested. o0o 0o0 The golden Myda was light. Incredibly light. As Trowa laid him down on the indicated bed as carefully as possible, he felt his heart twinge again. It wasn't right, any person or animal being treated in such an obviously terrible way. Both of them looked half-starved, and the ugly open wounds around the gold's neck would probably cause a long and painful road to recovery. And the poor dark one . . . Trowa idly wondered if Heero would have given Grascien such a merciful and dignified death if he'd discovered these two before the man's beheading. Heero wasn't cruel, but his sense of retribution and vengeance were keen. Moving quietly to the side to stay out of the way 'til needed, Trowa let his thoughts wander. He was only twenty-four, but sometimes he felt a man much older. The weight of his station bore down on him, an unseen burden that though he could oft ignore he could never forget. The king's bastard son. An illegitimate child. As a tiny boy he'd not known who his father was. He simply worked in his mother's stables, caring for the beautiful running, hunting, and war horses she bred. His mother, a gentle soul with dark brown eyes, had always treated him with as much love as a child could ask for, but Trowa could remember at times her looking at him with a smile that seemed more sad than anything else. She'd died when he was eleven, and his mother's sister had come. "You should be cared for by your father," she'd snapped, "because my husband and I can't afford another mouth to feed, and he certainly can!" She'd taken him to the royal palace. That was when he'd learned of his parentage. He hadn't known what to do about having a king for a father. The Warrior King, the most powerful man in all the Highlands, was his father. And he almost completely ignored Trowa. He sent him to the stablemaster for safekeeping and hardly said a word about it after. Trowa had spent the next seven months or so in miserable solitude, not truly understanding the poisonous looks others shot him, nor the cold way they spoke to him or about him. Then one day he saw the Warrior King. As he strode toward the stables, Trowa scrambled to hide. Behind the king came several retainers and some of the Royal Guard. But at his side was a boy probably four - maybe five - years Trowa's junior. He was somewhat small and quite skinny, but he had fierce blue eyes and a challenging countenance. He couldn't say why he felt drawn to a boy he'd never seen before, and cobalt eyes turned just at the right moment to lock with verdant green. It was like lightning. Trowa felt a shiver run through his whole body when that challenging stare met his. Here was a child fearless and utterly confident in his own being. Everything Trowa was not, really. The boy looked faintly surprised, and then the Warrior King was whisking him away, lifting him up into the saddle in front of him on a huge bay stallion. Trowa stood up to watch them go, trying to catch another glimpse of the boy. But they were gone, and he felt strangely bereft. "That boy," he quietly asked the stablemaster, "who is he?" The stablemaster's expression was full of scorn. "The Warrior King's son," he growled out. "His real son." And hearing the answer was peculiarly painful. Late that same night, he was roused from sleep by the growling and snuffling of dogs as the sound of unfamiliar feet padded across the stables. He rose from the straw and rounded the corner and almost ran right into none other than the blue-eyed boy. He leaped backward in alarm, the awkward movement causing him to stagger and fall. The prince watched with a slightly confused expression, almost as if he couldn't understand why Trowa was suddenly on the ground. Then he took an aggressive step forward. "They told me you're my father's son, but not my mother's," he began in a voice pitched low. Trowa blinked. "Yes," he said a bit uncertainly. He still had not accepted it himself. The boy drew himself up a bit. "That means you're my brother." This time the world blinked. For several moments Trowa could only stare. That had not even occurred to him. "I-I guess . . ." Now the prince looked even more fierce. But this time, the challenge was not directed at Trowa. He looked up, and Trowa realized his intent a split second before he opened his mouth and yelled, "Stablemaster!" At once all the dogs were alert, barking and corralling, excited by the loud, unexpected noise. Trowa cringed. He would be the one who was punished. Why would the prince want to make trouble for him? The stablemaster came out of his room looking fit to be tied. "Who the hell - !" he roared, then stopped short. In all his time here Trowa had never seen the huge stablemaster look so cowed. The prince, who was so tiny, glared up at him with the challenge of ten men. Of a hundred. His audacity was breathtaking, rather like a kitten taking on a bear. Trowa couldn't tear his eyes away, even though his heart was pounding in fear. "Y-Your Highness!" the stablemaster squeaked. Actually squeaked. "What by gods are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be safe in yorn bed? And mixin' with this lot - !" He gestured toward Trowa. Which made the prince take another aggressive step forward. "Don't talk about my brother like that!" he spat. "Why is he down here with you, when he should be in the palace? Whose idea was this? I'm disgusted! Don't think you've heard the end of this!" Leaning down, he grabbed Trowa's wrist and pulled roughly until Trowa had no choice but to rise and follow. He threw a helpless look at the stablemaster, but the man had blanched the color of sour milk, sputtering like a fool. For some reason, Trowa lost every ounce of fear toward the man he'd ever harbored, the sight was so comical. He turned his attention toward the boy storming ahead of him. The prince was a full head shorter than him. His forceful presence more than made up the difference. "My father didn't even tell me you were here!" he growled. "There isn't a room prepared, so you can sleep in mine until Father gets it ready. Sleeping with the dogs!" He looked so tiny, his anger was almost as comical as the stablemaster's fear. Trowa obediently followed until they were in the palace and in the prince's room. It was enormous. Practically as big as the stables. The four-poster bed could easily fit twenty in it, and a great fireplace dominated almost an entire section of wall. Beautiful, rich tapestries hung on the walls, and a desk and chairs and rugs made everything look comfortable, inviting, and the most wonderful thing Trowa had ever seen. He could scarce believe this was happening as the prince pushed Trowa onto a chair and went about undressing him as if Trowa couldn't manage it himself. "The wash water isn't warm anymore," he said, still looking indignant and huffy. "My nightclothes will be too small for you. I snagged something from Cook - it's not fit for you, but it'll work until Mistress Rona can see to you. What's your name?" Finally, those cobalt eyes were on his again. The aggression was gone, replaced by curiosity and the most good will Trowa had ever seen directed at him since coming here. "Trowa," he replied. "Trowa," the prince repeated, brow wrinkling the slightest bit. "I'm Heero. The wash basin is right over there, then you can sleep with me." That night felt like a dream. A strange, hazy dream. He washed his face and hands and clambered into bed wearing a nightshirt that was ridiculously big. Heero curled into his side like they were best friends and fell asleep in moments. Trowa lay awake longer, mind too jumbled to make thoughts into sense. When morning came, the Warrior King thundered into Heero's bedroom like a storm from nightmare. He looked livid, and he furiously berated his son for his foolish, childish behavior. Heero, however, once again leaving Trowa breathless, wasn't cowed in the slightest. He gave his father a heated glare, standing up on his bed to get closer to eye-level. "You didn't tell me I had a brother!" he snapped. "Trowa's staying with me!" And that, as they say, was that. No one challenged Heero's right to keep Trowa by his side. The boy had been only seven at the time. As they both grew, Trowa sat in with Heero and learned with his tutors. Heero took Trowa with him everywhere, and the palace whispered it was like the prince had adopted a stray dog. As they grew, eventually Trowa learned the reasons for his treatment at the hands of others. He silently accepted it, because there was nothing else he could do. But then Heero learned it. He was infuriated, and from that moment he lashed out at anyone who dared look at Trowa even in the mildest curiosity. He spoke out fiercely against those who claimed Trowa was a smear on his good father's name and the memory of the late queen's. He challenged anyone who called Trowa bastard, worthless, useless, or anything else derrogatory. In fact, he was so bad-tempered about it he had the whole royal court jumping in alarm when someone so much as spoke Trowa's name. And that, as they say, was that. Not another unkind word was spoken about Trowa. The others slowly warmed to him, for the first time acting toward him with gentleness and benevolence. Trowa couldn't have cared less, but he realized he cared deeply for his younger half-brother. Perhaps a little too deeply. And when Heero turned eighteen, he stifled every last resistance to Trowa's presence by making him the general of Venya's Imperial Army. Plain and simple, Heero was everything to Trowa. The way he'd forced others to see Trowa wasn't at fault for his birth. He'd had nothing to do with it. And his determination had ensured Trowa would never be a contender for the throne, because Trowa would cut off his own head before doing anything to lead Heero to harm. Some whispered this was Heero's main reason for accepting Trowa. Trowa knew better. He knew his brother loved him, and that had carried him through some of the worst years of his life. "When you're quite done spacing out." Wufei sounded amused. Dragging his attention back to the sorcerer, Trowa moved to the opposite side of the bed. "What do you need me to do?" "Hold his head steady for me," Wufei instructed. "His throat is badly damaged from that thrice-damned slave collar. I need to treat it, but in order to make sure I get every surface I'm going to swab it instead of have him drink it. I'll warn you - it will look uncomfortable. Tilt his head back a little, there. Just like that . . ." It did look uncomfortable. Even in his sleep the golden Myda whined faintly, shifting as though to get away. Trowa held him still, and then Wufei was done. He turned his attention to the ugly abrasions and bruises on the Myda's neck. His black eyes were colder than usual as he treated and rewrapped the slim neck. Then Wufei straightened. "As long as he gets some much-needed food and rest, he should recover well and in a short time." He turned to the darker one and sighed. "This one, however . . . he's in terrible shape." He began unwrapping the whip-marks, indicating Trowa to help him. "Nearly all these lashes are infected, and he's lost a great deal of blood. His leg was broken so badly, and was healing so wrong, I had to rebreak it just to set it. He's got a long road to recovery ahead of him. He'll probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life." Trowa felt a pang of regret in his heart. He hated to see animals hurt, and even though he knew Myda were sentient, they were still wild animals. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus his attention elsewhere besides the ugly wounds. Reaching out, he lightly touched the sleeping Myda's face. "These bruises," he murmured. "They look like they were caused by a muzzle. One never meant for a Myda." "More than likely," Wufei agreed, voice dark. "It seems like that foul man wanted to humiliate them as much as possible." Another, worse thought occurred to Trowa then. "I know Myda were often sold as sex slaves a long time ago," he hedged. It brought icy black eyes up to his. "I examined them both thoroughly," Wufei said. "There was no evidence of rape. If there was, I would have brought a Necromancer here from Somatolai and had Grascien resurrected so I could kill him again - slower, this time." A shiver bit the inside of Trowa's skin. The Warrior King had told him once that Wufei was the most powerful sorcerer in An'Cresse, perhaps one of the royal family. The ruling power of An'Cresse was far different from the monarchies of the northern kingdoms. The populace believed that the royal family were descended of gods, from whom they derived their great power. Sometimes, Trowa found himself thinking he could believe that, looking at Wufei. He knew the man was far older than he looked, and he only looked perhaps twenty-five. It took Wufei some time to apply ointment to the darker Myda's injuries and rewrap them. Trowa helped as much as he could, lifting the slight body when needed. If the gold one was light, the auburn weighed hardly anything at all. How could Grascien do this to them? "I don't know," Wufei replied, startling Trowa, "but I now wish Heero hadn't accorded him the royal execution. I wish he'd hanged him like a common thief." Trowa had to agree. Though his brother was fierce, he had a gentle soul. It was what would make him an incredible Warrior King, one day. "You know," Wufei mused abruptly, giving Trowa a knowing smile, "it's obvious when you're thinking about him. It's all over your face, your fondness." Though inwardly he shifted, Trowa didn't flush. He only shrugged in reply, a slight lifting of one shoulder. Heero had quite literally saved his life. Wufei chuckled. "Go on. Go to him. He'll be wanting to hear your report. And tell him I'll be along shortly." Inclining his head, Trowa obeyed. o0o 0o0 The cold bite of metal digs into his skin, and the constant growl emanating from the corner once more drags his attention back to the golden-furred leopard. Though Quatre's body is wasted from hunger and malnutrition, he can still see muscle rippling beneath the fur as the older Myda strains at the chain attached to the collar. His aqua eyes are burning with the depth of his hatred. Duo, weakened by blood loss and hunger, can barely lift his head as the human laughs softly, advancing. He wishes he weren't so weak. He would leap at the human, sink his fangs into the fat neck, hold on tight with vindictive glee as his life's blood spilled away. He hated him. Hatred was too mellow a word. He loathed and despised him and oh, would he ever love to kill him . . . His claws rake the stone floor, finding no purchase, but unable to pull him up even if he did. "Ah, such a beautiful thing," the human croons, snapping the whip against his meaty thigh. "You can't tell me seeing him like this doesn't affect you, hm?" Quatre's growl deepens into a snarl; Duo can see venom beading on the tips of his fangs. His anger is taking control. "Transform," the human orders, "or I'll kill him." The grinding shriek of Quatre's claws on stone makes Duo lower his ears. Though he has no voice to speak in his wild form, every movement of a Myda's body is an intricate language. Duo understands his words easily. "I would rather he die than watch you rape him." The human sighs when Quatre does not transform. "So stubborn." It is part of the game they play. He won't touch Duo unless he can touch Quatre. Though most times his lust fills the air with its heavy, hated scent, he seems to take just as much pleasure in hurting Duo as he might in . . . other things. The whip cracks, and Duo flinches, caught off guard. A keening whimper leaves his throat before he can swallow it down . . . Indigo-violet eyes snapped open, and a wave of white-hot pain nearly sent Duo tumbling right back into darkness. Every nerve-ending in his body was on fire, raw and burning and so beyond the point where this was bearable. His lifted his head as much as he could. "Quatre," he whimpered, "Quatre . . . Quatre . . ." The older Myda came awake more slowly, the surfaces of his eyes dull. Duo, who could remember the black-eyed sorcerer spelling them to sleep, swallowed a building scream and unconsciously reached for him. That brought Quatre awake, and he jumped across the small distance between them, curling tightly around him. He started purring immediately, and the rumbling vibration deep in his chest soothed Duo. His eyes fluttered shut, and in a remarkably short time he was feeling drowsy again. He didn't know how long this reprieve would last, but he could enjoy it for now. Quatre shifted, and Duo felt the words in the movements of his body. "There's a terrible tast in my mouth," he said, "but I feel much stronger. If this lasts, it will only be a matter of days before I'm strong enough to get us out here." Duo didn't point out he wasn't able to walk. He doubted even if the opportunity presented itself he would be able to act on it. He could barely lift his head. How would he lever his whole body off the bed, let alone walk? His sides expanded in a huge sigh, and he snuggled under the gold Myda. His thick, richly spotted fur trapped the heat in well, which added to the drowsiness. "I'll get us out of here, Duo," Quatre's body whispered. "And no human will ever touch us again." Yes, Duo thought dimly. He would rebuild his reserves
as long as the humans allowed, biding his time and his strength. He
never wanted to see another human for as long as he lived.
tbc |
