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"The King and the Shaman "Written By: Jewel of Hell Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' but these words Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, Fantasy/Drama/Romance, Yaoi, lemon, language (the usual), peril, violence, animal shamans, neko Duo, king Heero, impending war, sentient-formless evil Pairings: 1x2, others Summary: Heero is the young king of a country
he wants to expand into an Empire. One day he is approached by a woman
who claims she is an animal Shaman, creatures of legend and myth.
She makes an offer Heero cannot refuse. " The King and the Shaman "
The Void "Human concerns are none of our business," snapped the Wind Shaman. "We made it our business," countered the Leaf Shaman. "We promised long ago that we would protect them from the evil." "They have forgotten their promises to us." "Then we will make them remember." He is young, for a Shaman. He has only been alive for sixty years. He will live at least three-hundred more. He is a Shadow Shaman, a rare power that many of the Shamans view more a curse than a gift. He is a Storm Shaman, always the first line of defense against the evil that presses ever closer into the world. "There are too few of us now," the little red fox whispers. She, too, is a young Shaman. Her power is Fire, and like him she is always on the front line. Already the pair of them have lost many they held dear. "We can barely protect ourselves," the Wind Shaman says, and his voice is tired. "How can the humans expect us to protect them, as well?" "There are so few of us," the Fire Shaman repeats. She is weary. They are all weary. Unlike the relentless evil that needs neither sustenance nor rest, the Shamans are capable of being killed. Of dying. "What choice have we?" the Leaf Shaman says. "We are this world's last hope," The River Shaman agrees. "Whether in defense of humans or the world itself we must fight." But fight against a formless evil that seems capable of deflecting everything they throw at it? He wishes to fight no longer. He is tired of fighting. They have been fighting the evil now for ten years. And they are losing. He rises. "I will go," he says. "I will face this evil with HIM." They know of whom he speaks. The most powerful of all Shamans. He has gone to the humans, to reassure them and try to get them to evacuate the areas into which the evil is advancing. His lover. The only Divine Shaman ever to have been born. "It is too dangerous," they protest. "You must take others with you," they insist. "We cannot lose you, too." But he is adamant. And they relent. Because he gives them no choice. So he and his lover return to the space where the evil resides. The two Shamans begin their final attack. It will be their last, because neither will be able to fight. One loses his life. The other sacrifices his. o8o o8o "Heero, are you all right?" Blinking, the newly crowned emperor raised his wandering gaze from the gardens to his fiancé. Winter was well and truly setting in; the air had an unpleasant chill to it. It was making his injured arm a little stiff. "I'm fine," he replied. "Just . . . last couple of nights I've been having these strange dreams. I wake up and can't remember what I was dreaming about. I just feel this vague sense of . . . longing, I think." She looked surprised. Smoothing the skirt of her velvet gown she sat on the bench beside him. "You remember nothing about these dreams?" "No." For a time she was silent. "Well, I know nothing of dream lore, but if you find them unsettling, perhaps you should talk with Quatre? Duo told me a bit about the Star Shaman's power. It seems he might be able to help you." Attention successfully riveted to her, Heero nodded thoughtfully. "I never would have thought of that. I believe I will. And what of you, princess? How are you faring?" She smiled. "Well enough. I have come to love this place. It snowed on the mountaintops last night, and the view is breathtaking." For some reason, a bizarre sense of surrealism settled over Heero. Reaching to his side he gently took Relena's hand and kissed the back of it. Then he rose, headed back toward the castle. He knew where Quatre and Duo would be. Where they always were this time of day. "Heero," Quatre said in greeting when he walked into the room. "Something troubles you." Not a question. Duo, who'd been sitting on the floor in leopard form, rose and shifted to a human. Heero felt his body temperature rise pleasantly at the sight of all that beautiful, naked skin. "I apologize," he said. "Quatre, may I speak with you? In private?" Darkness clouded Duo's wondrous eyes at once. Obviously he didn't like the idea that Heero felt it necessary to exclude him. Even so he pulled on his silk robe and left the room. Heero felt a twinge in his chest, but he didn't want to give Duo cause for anymore worry. "What causes you such concern?" Quatre asked, perching on the edge of a chair. Heero drew in a slow breath. "Dreams, frustratingly enough. Lately I've been having elusive dreams. I wake up distinctly unsettled, yet I can remember nothing of the dream itself." Quatre pursed his lips. "Dreams are funny things," he said. "Sometimes they mean nothing at all, and we wake with vague impressions leftover from less-than-vivid images. Sometimes they carry a great deal of meaning. If this perturbed feeling is distracting enough you wish it to end, I will have to actually dreamwalk with you. This all by itself is an unsettling experience for humans. It is the only way I can determine if these dreams are meaningless or not. If they are, I can stop them. If they aren't, there's nothing I can do." After a moment, Heero sat as well. "What is that? A dreamwalk?" "Very nearly exactly what it sounds. I will follow you into your dreams and walk them with you. You will be dimly aware of me, but you will not be able to see me or interact with me. Nor will you be able to stop your dreams or pull out of them. I won't lie. Many humans find it disturbing. It generally leads to a feeling of being trapped in your own mind." The thought of that didn't greatly appeal, but Heero nodded anyway. "Can we begin tonight?" o8o o8o "It may be in poor taste to badger you about this," Sally said, "but I need you to give me a date for yours and the princess's wedding." "There's no rush, Heero," Relena said in that warm, sweet voice of hers. "I understand the emotional . . . complications." Complication wasn't the right word. "I know you do, but delaying will only make it worse for Duo. He cares for you, Relena, and he understands. Sally, complete the necessary preparations as soon as possible. If you can have everything ready in a week, I'll give you a title." His lips quirked in a crooked grin. She smiled. "It won't be easy, but it won't be impossible. Princess, I'll have royal seamstresses come to the castle at once, so they may get started on making your wedding dress to your taste." "Thank you, Sally," Relena said, inclining her head. "I'll be happy to help with the preparations, if you need any assistance. I'm no stranger to these things. I arranged my cousin's marriage in three days a few years ago." Heero nearly smiled at the slightly stunned expression on Sally's face. "Well, I must say. That's impressive. But no, I will take care of everything. I will let the decisions be up to you, though, since it is your wedding. Do you two have a preference in color, for example?" "Violet," Relena said at once. "I want shades of indigo and violet everywhere." Again, an odd tug at Heero's heart. The color of Duo's eyes. He reached over and lightly touched her hand. Perhaps complicated was the right word after all. It's complicated for everyone but me. I get my wife and my lover. Relena will marry a man she loves but cannot love her. Duo will be forced to share the man he loves with a woman. Gods, this is so unfair to them both. Sally smiled. "White and violet will make for a beautiful wedding. Heero, will Duo also take vows on this day as your consort?" "Yes," the young emperor said, the strangest sense of longing filling him upon hearing his beloved's name. It was comparable only to the feeling upon waking from the dreams he could not remember. Relena's fingers closed around his. "I will make my own vows to Duo, as well," she said. "He must be anxious about this. I want to assure him once and for all that I would never do anything to hurt him, and that includes trying to seduce you away from him." Heero squeezed briefly before releasing her and rising. "Thank you, Sally. I'll admit I have no head for these things, so I will leave it all in your capable hands. There is something I must see to, right now." Both women inclined their heads, and Heero took his leave of them. o8o o8o "How many Shaman powers are there?" Duo asked. Quatre, looking a little surprised that Duo had interrupted his lecture, paused. "Many. I will try to name them all. Perhaps the most common are River, Fire, Wind, Leaf, and Rain. Each power is different, and some are more powerful than others. Earth, Star, Thunder, Shadow, Storm are rarer. Storm is one of the rarest, but not the most so. Nor is it the most powerful. It is extremely uncommon for Shamans to have more than one power, but it has happened. The most ever known was a young Shaman a few thousand years ago. He was Storm, Shadow, and Star. You happen to be Storm, Shadow, and Earth." Head tilting to the side, Duo considered. "What is the most powerful?" "Of all Shamans throughout time, there has been only one born with this power. In fact we did not even know it existed until him. None have been born with it since. We called it the Divine." "Divine . . ." Duo repeated, wondering why that word unsettled him. "What was it like?" "History has it being incredible," Quatre said. "When the formless evil began seeping back into the land, ever harder to beat back with our powers, it is said he could seal the rifts it caused single-handedly. Normally it took at least five Shamans to achieve this. It was as if he could manipulate raw energy and direct it to do almost anything." Being a Shaman himself, Duo understood the implications of that. While the powers of Storm and Shadow were quite immense, they were limited to rather small general areas. But a power that could manipulate raw energy? "What happened to him?" he asked. Quatre sighed. "He died fighting the evil. It is believed he sacrificed himself to it in order to seal it away for good. It has been gone twice as long as normal, and I believe it to be because of him." "Will it return?" Duo asked. Quatre nodded. "Almost assuredly." o8o o8o That night, Quatre talked Heero into a light sleep where his mind was most likely to dream. Dreamwalking was a strange business, but Quatre found it enjoyable. Dreams were capable of revealing many things about individuals, and this would be a good time for him to once and for all determine if Heero was a good man like the Shamans hoped. It took some time before the dreamscape of Heero's mind awoke. When it did, he was a little surprised. Human dreams were usually filled with color and sound and light. This dreamscape was twisted and dark, filled with a shadow that coiled and writhed and waited. Almost as if it had a mind of its own and some malignant will. It actually sent a shiver down Quatre's spine. Where was Heero? A sound not unlike wind wailing down through a narrow space filled the dreamscape. It was intensely eerie, and the darkness shifted as though restless. It began to open, making room. And there, a fitting backdrop against a dead place, was a barren plane. Broken, ravaged husks of trees sent frozen branches into the black sky. Crimson lightning flickered through the roiling dark. The ground was dry as bone, an unnatural red-brown color. Like dried blood. Two people huddled in this desolate place. Upon drawing closer Quatre frowned. Heero he recognized, but not the other. He looked distantly familiar, as though a forgotten face from a vague dream. The pair of them clung to each other, both filthy and looking worn. They were speaking, but no sound issued forth. Only the wind filled the space. Never in his life had Quatre ever walked a dream like this one. It was incredibly disturbing to watch. The black sky, the dead landscape, the colors, the shapes, and the silence but for the bitter wind. And that darkness, creeping ever closer.
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