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"Children of a Lesser Fate "Written By: t-shirt Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are
copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties.
I make no money with this fic. Rating: R Warnings: AU/Fantasy, angst, fluff, Mention of
lemon , humor and all the stuff you get with a rolling adventure ^-^ Pairings: 1x2, 3x4 Summary: The fate of a war ridden kingdom is sealed by the undeniable destiny of its most precious children. "Children of a Lesser Fate "
“Hold him!” Men grunted and swore as another thick column of fire lanced the midnight sky. “Get another chain on him!” A great gray bearing a single rider hissed at the black demon tethered before them. “Watch his tail!!” another cried as a wagon burst into splinters when the gargantuan appendage narrowly missed a double mounted green. The black beast roared his fury into the heavens unable to free himself despite his mighty form. Huge, black eyes burned with rage as the call of his young pierced the chaos as it was dragged from the safety of their nest among the cliffs, his answering growl echoing in the countryside as another spear dug deep into his side. He lunged toward the whelp that fought desperately for its freedom with tooth and claw but without the formidable weapon of fire that would be granted her later in life she was no match for the men who contained her. Her father bore no such weakness and let loose another roaring column of deadly heat leaving a number of the armored men flailing on the ground as more stepped in to take their place. “Take him down!” “We can break him!” another shouted even as another line of men fell. “Kill him!” the first roared shaking long white bangs from his sweat-speckled brow. There was no more argument as the slayers readied their weapons, the frantic cry of the young dragon rising to a fevered pitch as she was bound and tethered to a cart. Her father screamed his fury in his desperation to reach her, his massive form falling heavily to crash into the earth as another wave of arrows embedded in his great, ebony body and the enraged, mournful cry of a young boy pierced the air. “NOOOOO!” Men’s heads turned, warrior’s eyes growing wide with shock at the sight of a boy standing rigidly upon the hill top, his fists clenched at his side as his black eyes damned them all to the deepest depths of hell. “He’s just a boy!” their blond leader consoled knowing his men’s morale would falter at the sight of him. “Kill the beast!” he commanded keeping their minds on the more pressing matter at hand but the boy suddenly launched himself into the fray and it became clear the dying dragon was the least of their worries. “Commander!” “Get her out of here!” the blond ordered backing his huge, silver mount up to tighten the chain that held the young dragons weakened father at bay. The boy paused as another man fell at his feet, his eyes snapping to see the cart bolt away with the whelp wailing desperately as another line of men fell to the fury of her flailing father. A quick dash put him in reach of one of the restraining chains, the man standing between him and his goal easily dealt with by means of his own war hammer, which the boy used to sever the chain unleashing one of the great blacks hind legs. The beast roared its approval rising into the night, several of its brethren and their riders dragged mercilessly into range, two dodging and hissing as mammoth leather wings beat the air to fan back the flames the black spit at them but the blond had maneuvered his silver into position. The boy could do nothing more than scream as the blond let fly his shaft piercing the throat of the black, his death cry exploding high into the pitch on a pillar of pure flame until suddenly he fell to the stony ground and lay still. “RETREAT!” the blond commanded seeking out the tearful eyes of the boy as he stood gazing at his fallen comrade. A boy he had no desire to face in battle as he was clearly a member of the Dragon Clan from the east. Their numbers were few but all who dared capture and tame the beasts feared them for their one purpose in life was to ensure the freedom of the dragons the riders depended on for their strength in battle. It appeared to be a good day however, when the boy turned his attention to the fallen beast instead of the retreating men leaving them their opportunity to escape. The boy approached; the soggy rasp of the black faint and pained in the thick, blood scented air. He laid a hand gently upon the shimmering scales of his cheek, his black eyes mirroring those of his dying friend as he leaned his head against his brow and quietly vowed… “I will never abandon her.” The black purred in response, the sound wet and garbled in his ruined throat but his eyes reflected his gratitude as their light slowly bled away. The boy wasted no time grieving setting out from the smoking ruin of the dragon’s grave in pursuit of his charge. Within the hour he had overtaken the band of dragon riders as they were forced to remain earthbound to transport their newest catch. The little black was no bigger than a horse, an adolescent female the boy had known since his birth. He would not allow them to take her. “Lieutenant Zechs!” The warning came too late as the boy exploded into their midst. Three men fell before the blond managed to confront the enraged child, his attention momentarily distracted by the helpless cry of the dragon whelp in the cart ahead. “Return to the East!” Zechs shouted. “There is no place for you here, Dragon Lord!” An angry member of the band took the opportunity to launch his gray at the child but the beast turned at the last moment refusing to obey its master and attack. “Hold!” the blond man ordered reining in his own nervous mount. “Only a fool would attempt to turn a dragon against its Lord.” The voice chilled the boy causing his ebony eyes to narrow as the owner gently nudged his blue to stand beside the silver. “Perhaps you would care to settle the matter in a more civilized manor?” the tawny haired newcomer smiled gracefully sliding from his dragons back. “I accept,” the boy stated clearly. “Give him a sword,” the man smiled. “Your Excellency?!” But the man’s expression insisted and he made his way into the shadowy clearing as the boy caught the blade and squared his feet. “When you die,” the boy began. “Will your men still honor our agreement?” “They are men of honor,” the man replied. “Those who capture and enslave others know no form of honor!” the boy shouted launching himself at him only to find himself staring at the tip of the other mans sword. “You will die much too young,” the man told him softly, his attention moderately stolen away by the sudden commotion as the young black began to thrash on the cart. “Someday,” the boy swore even as the other dragons began to revolt against their master’s commands refusing to obey as the whelp tore loose her tethers, the men alone unable to contain her as he promised, “You will die by my hand.” “Hold her!” the blond shouted forcing his mount to obey but the little black was frantically tearing away at her bindings until finally she broke free and bolted into the sky. Several of the others took off after her, each lancing the darkness with flame to light the night sky but the ebony whelp could not be seen until she suddenly swooped down and plucked the boy from where he knelt. “Should we go after him?” Zechs inquired. “No,” his commander replied. “In time, he will come to us.” ** Alley rats scurried as the naked splash of bare feet slapped the cobble stone street. The traitorous remnants of a night’s rain betraying the young thief as a guard’s throaty voice rang out his discovery of the boy’s trail. “Do not let him escape!” Soldiers fanned out blocking every possible exit above and below ground at their master’s command. A woman screamed fleeing her shop home as it was overrun by burly men intent on their sole purpose of locating and securing the arrogant boy. There were many thieves in the Sanc kingdom but none had ever been so bold as to rob the royal palace. “Where is he?” “Search the houses!” “Check the basements!” “No!” All turned expectantly at the confident tone of their pre-teen commander. “He’s on the roof!” “What?!” “How?!” “Highness?!” Protests fell on deaf ears as the young King snatched a sword from the nearest soldier springing to stand on his horses back before jumping onto the nearest building. “My Lord!” “Surround the building!” the boy King shouted from the roof. “Let no man enter! I will deal with him myself!” “But, Sire!” “He will not escape again!” the man-child snapped disappearing into the morning gloom. “Tighten the net!” the Captain shouted cursing his bad luck to have been saddled with such a reckless charge. “I don’t want so much as a house fly getting out!” Thick, morning fog rose from the warming streets below as the young monarch made his way along the rooftop. The milling sounds of the soldiers mingling with the waking of the city as the sun glowered behind clouds still thickly hung in the dawn sky. His skin prickled at the sound of a cat scampering from the shadows as he entered the dwelling, his feet moving silently among the clutter along the stair. Steel blue eyes flickered from one doorway to another dismissing an old woman and her curiously frightened eyes that peered from within until they spotted the thin outline of a damp footprint on the scrubbed wood floor. Cautiously and without regret the boy King pushed the door aside and entered to find nothing more than a young girl cowering by a window, her head partially covered by a tattered shawl as she gazed at him with bright blue/violet eyes. “I seek a thief,” he told her moving toward a closet to check inside but the girl only whimpered and hid beneath the inadequate cover of her hood. “Do you know who I am?” he asked looking her over more closely as she nodded. “Highness?!” came a shout from the street below and the girl hunkered in on herself as he moved to the window beside her to reply. “Prepare to receive him!” he commanded as the girl tried to move away only to find her nose pressed firmly against the cold steel of a swords blade. “Say my name,” he ordered evenly watching the throb of her pulse quicken beneath the creamy skin of her neck. “If you know me, say my name.” The girl froze as if afraid for a moment before turning hard, crystal eyes upon him, the cracking tenor of masculine adolescence evident in his tone as he replied. “Hiiro. Lord of the Cadence Ruin.” The disappointment shadowed deep in the boy Kings dark eyes drew the young thief’s brow tight before it vanished in the wake of blind determination as Hiiro leaned closer. “That is not my name,” he told him, his tone so bitterly cold the violet-eyed thief recoiled from its brash caress. “No matter,” he argued meeting the young King’s deadly glare, “The stones know you no matter what you call yourself.” “How do you know about the stones?” Hiiro demanded. “Even the wretched rejects of Soldaire have heard the Legend of Deliverance,” the thief laughed. “Soldaire?” Hiiro mused. “Is that your home?” “Such as it is.” Hiiro’s eyes warmed with sympathy upon mention of the slum city to the south. He had heard of the strife and misery there and understood it to be one of his long-term goals to resurrect the forlorn city. “Return what you have stolen,” he demanded and the boy smiled happily as he withdrew a sphere from within the folds of his robes, his eyes sparkling in the iridescence light now radiating from deep within it’s pearly white depths. “So it is true,” the thief whispered wondrously as the shadows in the room darkened and fled in the presence of the cadence stone. He could hear it, the quiet whisper of the sphere begging to be placed in the young Kings hand and found it impossible to deny the will of the stone. His bright, violet eyes widening with joy as the light began to pulse with life when cradled in its masters hand. “You really are the one,” he breathed softly gazing into the fiery blue eyes that quietly regarded him. “Where’s the rest?” “Hm?” the thief hummed smiling dopily in the pale light. “Oh, surely a palace as rich as yours can spare one golden candlestick for the sake of starving children?” “It is not my palace,” Hiiro informed him. “My Lord!?” called the Captain from below once more. “Then you should have no objections to its loss,” the thief reasoned. “Your tongue won’t be so sharp in the jails of Sanc,” Hiiro reminded him but the boy merely smiled and moved closer. “Or you could release me,” he purred and it was now Hiiro who recoiled uncertainly. “Why would I …release you?” he stammered. “What do you gain if you don’t?” “I’m beginning to see a great deal of benefit in keeping you around,” Hiiro replied suddenly advancing. “There are those who would benefit more from my freedom,” the thief replied nervously pressing back against the wall. “Kiss me.” “What?!” “Kiss me and I’ll set you free.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” the thief whispered and Hiiro grinned at the flush that heated his face. “A small price to pay for your freedom,” he reasoned pressing closer still. “Letch,” the boy pouted making Hiiro smile so brightly even the cadence stone paled in comparison. “One kiss,” Hiiro coaxed hovering nearer. “I don’t know how.” “Me either,” Hiiro whispered laying his mouth firmly upon the boys, their lips melting together as the warm glow of the stones pulse quickened. “Tell me your name,” he begged dazedly. “Duo,” the boy replied swallowing heavily before Hiiro’s mouth covered his once more. “I have to go,” Duo gasped forcefully pushing away. “Duo,” Hiiro called after him as he neared the door and pulled his hood tightly around his head. “If I catch you again,” he vowed, “I will make you my own.” Duo’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned over his shoulder and disappeared. ** “Keep quiet! Don’t make a sound!” “But Mother!” “Quatre please!” the queen begged with tearful eyes as she closed the hidden door beneath the floorboards of her chambers. The soldiers were at her door and would soon gain entry. “You hide with me!” the boy cried grasping at her and for a moment she crushed him to her bosom before forcing his hands away. “Keep silent,” she told him. “You must survive!” “Mother?!” “I love you.” It was the last words the thirteen year old prince would hear her utter as the door gave way. He obeyed as she was attacked, he bit his tongue so forcefully it bled as she fought but when the deathblow fell his heart cried out so painfully he could no longer contain his rage. It consumed him as he burst forth forcing his hand over and over again, each man that stood to face him falling to the cold fury in his heart until an entire company lay broken and dying along the bloody halls. He felt no pain save the sorrow in his heart. He knew no remorse for the lives he had claimed and he did not stop until he was suddenly faced by a child no older than himself who stood silently among the carnage of the seizure of his home. He was dressed differently than the soldiers that had killed his mother though he was obviously in their employ; a mercenary but no more a man than the young prince. Quatre paused to calmly regard him as the boy raised a crossbow, aimed it at his heart and asked… “Will you live or die?” ”You must survive!” Quatre’s mother’s words rang in his ears melting the cold fury until his hands began to shake and tears flowed freely from his eyes. The mercenary child watched quietly as the blond boy slowly crumbled, his blood drenched body folding in on itself as the sickle he had used to slay his oppressors fell from limp fingers and he lay weeping in a ball on the scorched earth. He watched as the men that had employed his troop lifted the crying child from where he lay and took him to their camp. He stood by silently while he was bathed, his wounds tended and food and drink forced past unresponsive lips. It would take three days to transport the young prince to the temple of Orb’s Keep yet the child showed no sign that he even knew he had been taken. His eyes remained dull and lifeless as his body was moved about like an obedient doll. “Leave him be.” “No one would ever know.” “You mess with him the priestess will curse you and your children for a hundred years!” “You mean to rape him.” The three men that had been standing guard over the prince during the night were startled by the sudden sound of the young mercenaries seldom heard tenor. “S’none of your business!” one growled. “You’re a little young for such insight aint’cha boy?” another laughed but the boy’s steady gaze never faltered. “You’re captain said he must be pure to reside in the temple at Orb’s Keep. If you desecrate him, the spirits will know.” “Yeah, well. Fuck the spirits,” the first grumbled spitting a sour bit of ale into the fire. “What’ve they ever done for us?” “Trowa!?” The boy’s captain calling deterred any further thoughts of misbehavior for the time being but came too late to thwart the chill that ran through the men at the strangely steady gaze of the emerald eyed child. ~ “We should take him for our own.” Trowa sat still and listened to his comrades debate the future of their latest endeavor. “The priestess would pay handsomely for his return.” “And in the meantime he’d make a fine playmate.” The laugher rang clearly through the camp but Trowa’s ears were no longer attuned to the sound. He moved swiftly almost reaching the tent where the child prince was being held before the camp was attacked. Silently keeping to the shadows he made his way toward his goal as soldiers scurried here and there doing their best to meet the unexpected attackers. “Master Quatre!” a huge man bellowed from the back of a black steed as his men laid the camp in ruins. Trowa stilled; his emerald eyes as seamless as the stones that bore their hue as he watched the young prince walk naked from his tent. “Quatre!” “Master Quatre!?” “Stop,” the boy said calmly but Trowa could feel the sorrow in his tone. “Secure the area!” the big man growled dismounting. “Bring a robe!” Trowa watched as one of the men that had hired his troop darted forward intent on recapturing the blond only to find his head severed by the blade of the giant protecting him, his blood spraying the blond as another charged in and the fight began anew. “No more,” Quatre whispered softly standing helplessly amongst the fray. Trowa looked upon him; his pale skin speckled with scarlet, his hair shining brightly in the night and saw the purity of his heart. It took less than a thought to slaughter any and all who might mean him harm. “You… killed your own men,” Quatre stammered as Trowa came to face him. “Are you all right?” the young mercenary asked. “Master Quatre.” “No, Rashid,” the blond said boldly refusing the robe the big man had offered. “Quatre?” “What is your name,” he asked the mercenary child. “If you must call me something,” the boy replied, “Call me Trowa.” “Will you take me to her?” “Master Quatre?!” Rashid gasped stepping forward in protest but Quatre stepped into the protection of Trowa’s arms. “Please,” the blond rasped clinging tightly as Trowa’s arms wrapped firmly around him. “No one else must die.” Many of the men that had come to save the prince protested vehemently as Trowa took him from the camp but Rashid commanded that they respect their Master’s wishes. The priestess, Lady Une, seemed less than surprised about the odd circumstances of the exhausted, blood crusted, naked prince brought into her charge, her only concerned being the fact that he had indeed arrived. Trowa was allowed to remain while the blond was cleansed and anointed with sweet oils and essence, his initiation into the Order of the Orb marred only by the fact that he was the only male to have ever been allowed within the Keeps inner sanctum. Two days passed before Trowa saw him again. He was presented in the main hall, his wounds healed, his skin glowing like alabaster stone and hair of luminous gold. He stood as naked as the day Trowa had delivered him to the temple save for the golden caller around his neck from which hung seven, fine golden chains. Five as pure in their simplicity as the path of falling rain, two of duel construction bound near the end by a single red link. “I have been given permission to thank you,” Quatre said softly moving slowly down the steps leading into chambers Trowa would never be permitted to enter. “I am not so unselfish that I deserve your gratitude,” Trowa replied. “Why are you still here?” “You have something to say to me,” the young mercenary stated calmly. Quatre quietly gazed into his eyes for a long time before he finally let his gaze fall to the stone floor. “I know I’m a coward,” the blond spoke with difficulty. “I’m not strong like you and the others. Why does anyone have to die?” Trowa shouldered his pack before turning toward the door but he stopped to gaze back into the expectant expression on Quatre’s face as he told him, “A coward would not have chosen to live.”
~ * ~ tbc... |
