Chapter One: Twilight (revised)
Twilight was setting on the royal city as Duo Maxwell made his way home. He looked travel weary and worn, but the familiar sounds and smells of the Aspah Market helped to re-energize his tired body and refresh his mind. The city looked as wonderful as ever, too. Made of stone and wood and colored glass, Aspah was a myriad of textures, of bright and dark, and in some ways reflected the wide variety of people that came to live in the city. It was home to the King of Traun, and to his many daughters and his only son, the wayward Crown Prince, and home to a variety of lords and ladies whose participation in the royal court sometimes better resembled the circus more than anything else, but it was still home. And considering that he'd just come through the Forbidden Forest to get back here, it was a home that he was exceedingly grateful for.
When he laid eyes on a small but tidy inn on the corner of the market, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. The Aspah Market Inn, sometimes known as the Corner Tavern to those who frequented it, was popular among the locals. The tavern, though not as big as some of the more expensive inns, was always crowded. Duo had been coming to the Corner for a few years, and had been living in the inn for at least two of those years. He had his own personal rooms, and there was always a seat available for him in the tavern. And the journey home to it was always a sweet one.
As he stood in the doorway to the Corner, pulling off his scarf, he remembered standing in a different inn on a different night not so long ago and suppressed the shudder that crept up his spine. That was not something he wanted to dwell on, not on his first night back.
He made his way to his table and passed a familiar redhead on the way there. Catherine set the drinks she was holding quickly onto the table in front of her and smiled brightly at him. "Duo! We've been wondering where you were."
Duo leaned in and kissed her cheek, grinning a little. He had no idea how the girl managed to stay so cheerful all the time, but her good humor was always welcome. "Did you miss me tons?" He asked, somewhat cheekily.
She squeezed his shoulder. "Of course. Would you like something to drink?"
"Absolutely."
Catherine finished passing out the drinks she'd momentarily abandoned and then gave him a wink before heading back for the bar. Duo scratched his head and gave a satisfied sigh, continuing to his seat.
It was his table, and had been for the longest time. He'd even written his name on it, but there was generally a sign there that read Reserved and that was a much better aid at keeping people away than his terrible scribble was. As he sat, though, he ran his hand over the etch marks and chuckled. The fire nearby crackled warmly behind the iron grate and the usual banter and laughter of the place soothed him like nothing else. It really was good to be home.
"Duo. It's good to see you." Trowa set a mug in front of him and joined him at the table, the slightest of smiles curving the youth's otherwise expressionless mouth. "How was the job?"
"Easy," replied the assassin, and took a long drink from his ale. He set it down and exhaled slowly, and eyed the room around him as he scratched at his chest. "Uneventful on the whole."
Trowa arched an eyebrow. "Really?" His eyes were on Duo's neck and at once the travel wearied boy cursed himself silently. Taking a sip from his own mug, Trowa added quietly, "Your poker face is terrible."
Duo sighed and put his chin in his hand, gazing in amusement through half-lidded eyes at the entirely too perceptive man in front of him. "I don't know why you won't go into business with me. We'd make a killing."
Trowa smiled at the pun behind his mug. "I have a business. Besides, I was a mercenary long enough to know that it's not my thing."
They both had been mercenaries for about a year; it was how they met. They traveled around Traun, mostly along its borders, and were often hired by the King's Royal Army. Duo had joined up because he had nothing else to do. He was just an orphan, looking to make a living somehow. Trowa had signed up right after his parents had been murdered making their usual trek on the inter-kingdom trade route. They had owned and run the Aspah Market Inn, had built the business up together, and when they died it went to Trowa and his sister Catherine. Trowa spent a little under a year fighting, trying to work out the bitter rage and aggression, but eventually he handed in his sword and went back home. Fighting had never brought him satisfaction, unlike Duo, who'd always felt as though the world owed him something. They kept in touch, though, and when Duo opted to move from one kind of hired work to another, Trowa offered to give him a place to live. The assassin had always figured that it was a way for the other man to keep an eye on him, but he didn't mind. It was kind of nice to be looked in after from time to time.
As it was now, Trowa and his sister ran one of the most popular taverns in the city, and Duo had become one of the most sought after hit-men in all of Traun. Most people knew him as The Great Shinigami; Trowa, Catherine, and a few others knew him by his real name.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Trowa asked, referring to the marks on his neck.
Duo had hoped that the other boy wouldn't see them, but Trowa always had been too perceptive for his own good. "Not even remotely," he replied lightly, but his violet eyes betrayed his intensity.
Trowa shrugged, and took another swig. "I've got to get back to the bar, but let me know if you need anything." The tall youth stood and saluted him with two fingers before heading back to work.
The assassin watched him pensively before taking a long swig of ale. The liquid was warm and the burning sensation in his throat was a welcome feeling, one he always enjoyed. It was hard to say if he would ever broach this subject again with the other boy, especially considering it was the absolute last thing he wanted to talk about right now. He knew without a doubt, however, that Trowa would never mention it again. Duo was grateful for that. He was grateful in general to Trowa, and to Catherine, for holing him up and making him part of their little family. It meant a lot more than he could ever really say.
He sighed again and rubbed his forehead, as though trying to ward off all these mushy thoughts. It was obvious that his exhaustion was creeping back up with him. He should head upstairs and wash up before his mind turned to other, less heart-warming thoughts.
-- () --
The Crown Prince sighed as he leaned over the balustrade, gazing down at the still streets of Aspah below. The sun was dipping below the horizon but there was still some light left, enough for his eyes to follow the main road out as it followed the meandering Saiti River into the Forbidden Forest. That place loomed like a dark shadow over the earth, and he found that was continually drawn back to it, despite its foreboding reputation. He'd been thinking about it a lot lately, actually. He'd been thinking all sorts of crazy things though, and more than ever he found himself reverting back to his childhood dreams of setting out on some kind of daring adventure. More than ever he felt compelled to make those dreams a reality; he felt the forest calling him to explore its depths and conquer the unknown there.
But that was not to be. No, his life was more or less planned for him already. The Prince's generally serene expression turned sour and he closed his eyes, hiding their blue depths from the world around him. His father had announced a marriage proposal earlier that day. Nothing was set in stone yet but nevertheless it was clear that something would be done soon. The aristocracy had been clamoring for his attention for the last few years, knowing that this day would soon bloom on the horizon.
His own horizon seemed more like the one at present, with the light fading fast and darkness sweeping in. The Prince had seen the list of potentials and felt various degrees of nauseia over each and every one. But how could he tell his father that he didn't really seem to like any women, let alone any of those women?
He'd had opportunities, of course. He was the Crown Prince, after all. Women threw themselves at him from all levels of life, hoping for even the slightest bit of response, anything to help garner their reputations. More than a few times his conniving sisters had paid a household servant to accidentally flash a little skin at him or had given the aristocratic daughters information on his various scheduled games and events so that they might make a better impression on him. Everything about the court disgusted him, really, and he passed his hand through his hair as his lip curled in response.
"Quatre," he heard a warm voice behind him then, "I thought I might find you out here."
The blonde blinked his eyes open and glanced over his shoulder at his cousin. He hadn't heard her come out, but then again, the Peacecrafts had always been known for their graceful poise and their ability to disappear when necessary. He couldn't necessarily call Relena a quiet woman; she voiced her opinions on things often, and the court knew when she had something on her mind. She'd garnered a lot of respect for herself, though, especially since the disappearance of Miliardo. It was a hard blow to both of them, but many had thought that the youngest surviving Peacecraft would be forever changed for the worse. But she'd always been strong, and she had a gift. She could see things, sometimes, could predict the fallout of events. They always said that the old Peacecraft clan had different blood running through their veins. He'd always wondered if his mother had been the same, and why the strangeness hadn't manifested itself in him or any of his sisters.
"Good evening, Relena," he said politely and immediately received a frown for it.
"Oh, come on," she put her hands on her hips, "Don't pull that with me."
He sighed again, and glanced back out to the dark forest in the distance. "Sorry. It's become mechanical."
Relena stood next to him, spreading her hands on the balustrade as she gazed out. "I saw the list," she ventured after a few minutes, and gave him a sidelong look. "Clearly your father's advisors have no taste whatsoever."
Quatre favored her with a small smile. She was much kinder than anybody ever gave her credit for. "I suspect they're going senile."
"Probably," she agreed, a vague smile playing about her lips.
They stood in agreeable silence for a long moment, watching as the city's lights blinked on before them. The Forbidden Forest became more of a hazy backdrop as the sun disappeared entirely, but it was impossible to ignore the bulk of shadow completely. Hovering on the edge as it was, one could always sense it's looming presence.
"It's so dark," Relena murmured then, and Quatre realized they'd been looking at the same thing. Though he regarded it with fascination, she regarded it with more suspicion, an anxious speculation lined with fear. "Dark and... evil."
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Evil?"
She twirled a strand of straw colored hair around her finger, a nervous habit. "I can't shake this horrible feeling lately, and it only gets worse whenever I look at the forest."
"I'm sure it's not all peaches and cream, but there are a lot of good things about it, you know," he reminded her placidly. "A lot of creatures that are beneficial to life and to our ecosystem thrive there, and most of our medicines and other herbs and spices are derived from the plant life that grows there and only there. Aspah wouldn't be half of what it is without it."
Relena smiled at him but he could tell she was not really placated. But what she ventured next made him look at her a little more closely. "What is so horrible here, Quatre, that makes that place so dear to you?"
It was easy to forget how keen an observer she was. He could only answer her with honesty; she would expect nothing less. "There, I would be in control. My decisions would affect my fate. Here, I don't even get to make the decisions. Everything that matters is already set in stone somewhere, planned by some old, fat men who got rich through manipulation and corruption and have no respect or value for life and for what it really means to have one all your own."
The silence that followed was a heavy one. Neither of them had quite expected the intensity that her question brought about but there was no denying that it had probably been festering under the surface for some time. He rubbed his forehead and bent forward over the balcony, and murmured a quiet, "Sorry."
Relena put her hand on his neck and leaned in, pressing her forehead against his temple. "Quatre, be careful. Your father is just trying to do what's best for everyone, for all of Traun, and it requires sacrifice on everyone's part. You're the Crown Prince. No one said it was going to be easy."
He pulled away, balling his fingers tightly. "I didn't ask to be a prince, or to inherit any of this royal misery. I don't accept that, Relena."
"Quatre," she began, but he shook his head and backed away, stalking towards the double doors that led inside. "Stop. I don't want to hear any more of your political revelations." With his back turned to her, he missed the collapse of her calm and the abundant sadness in her eyes as she watched him leave. He missed her jaded expression and her rigid stature; it was the look of someone who knew their end, of someone who was well acquainted with hopelessness.
-- () --
Duo soaked in his tub for a long time. It was glorious to be back here, back with warm, clean water, lots of soap and soothing salts, with his bed and his bookshelf and his collection of blades and other various possessions. It was his safety net, and it was a needed comfort for his weary mind and wary, travel-worn body. As he scrubbed at his toes, massaging the sole of his feet gently with a sponge, his mind began to feel heavy. The lack of sleep jumbled with the myriad of thoughts that his recent road trip brought on were jumbled together in a tangled mess and he didn't even dare to try and pick it all apart.
Later, though, when he tried to lie down and get some shut eye, he found his memories of that night waiting for him, as though they'd been lying in wait somewhere in the back of his mind, ready to pounce when the moment presented itself. He could still see his dark, smoky blue eyes watching him, waiting intently with an air of self-assurance that was both terrifying and irresistible.
Walking away, he'd thought the meeting was chance only, a random crossing of paths that allowed him an interesting, if not slightly harrowing experience. But now, sprawled out naked on his bed, too hot for covers, he couldn't shake the feeling that there wasn't anything about that night that had been coincidental at all. Not the inn, not even the girl. And certainly not him.
Before he even realized what he was doing, Duo rubbed the bite marks on his neck in discomfort though no real physical ailment prompted him. The bite was almost over and done with before he'd even realized what was going on, so drunk with lust as he'd been. And though the vampire had drunk, it had been slow and sensual and was clearly more about sex than hunger. Still, it freaked him out. But not as much as what else he'd uncovered.
Duo pushed himself out of bed, now too restless, despite the aching of his muscles. He moved to the mirror and pushed his long, tangled strands of hair aside to inspect the bite mark more clearly. He'd tried to avoid really looking at it before but ignoring it didn't make it disappear. The puncture wounds were small, and it was likely that most people probably wouldn't even notice them. Trowa had picked them up right away, but maybe he should have expected that. If Catherine had noticed them she hadn't said a word; in some ways, she was just as clever at concealment as her brother.
He grunted, annoyed that he couldn't sort himself out, and sighed. He wanted nothing more than to just fall into a deep, dreamless slumber but apparently luck was just not with him. No, something much darker had taken up residence.
-- () --
The day had finished up on a better note than Catherine had expected it to. They always made good money, thanks to steady business from the locals, but today was especially profitable for no real reason at all. But more importantly, Duo returned home. She wiped down the bar counter with a towel, pausing to scrub a little harder in a couple unruly spots before taking the rag to some nearby tables.
Most people were gone for the night. There were some stragglers, there always were, but most of them were regulars anyway and some were staying in the hotel. Either way, she was closing up soon and they'd have to find somewhere else to drink away their miseries. She wiped down the first table and grabbed a couple glasses before moving to the next, nodding at a local as he gathered his things.
"How's the Mrs.?" She asked cheerfully, if not a little tiredly.
He smiled and pushed his chair in. "Oh, good as ever, she is. Took the kids ta the coast, gonna head up and meet 'em tomorrah, prolly." He slurred his words a little but Catherine had been in this business too long not to know what was being said.
"Well you have a good night," she told him.
As he left, leaning a little suspiciously to the right as he walked, a younger man entered, stepping slightly to the side as he passed. He wore a nondescript brown cloak, incredibly well worn and not without a few stains and holes. She thought she glimpsed white somewhere under it but she quickly straightened from the table she was cleaning and offered a quick hello.
He glanced around casually, acknowledged her with a silent nod, and then moved somewhat stiffly towards the counter and took a seat at one of the stools there.
"I'll be with you in a second, sir," Catherine told him, finishing up the table she was at before moving back behind the counter. She dumped the glasses and the rag into the sink and wiped her hands on a towel before turning her full attention to him. "Unfortunately we're not serving any more drinks tonight but we do have some rooms available, if you like."
He looked as though he were about to fall asleep right there. "That's fine," he muttered, and fumbled in his cloak before producing a number of coins. Now that she was closer she couldn't help but notice how beat he really was. She was familiar enough with mercenaries and battle in general to know when a man was wounded, and the way this particular man carried his shoulder spoke of some kind of injury. "How much for a private bath?"
The general price was two hundred but she felt compelled to give him a discount. He just looked so haggard and in desperate need of rest. She remembered Duo and Trowa returning home just the same way a number of times in the past and it always sparked a very motherly instinct in her. "One hundred fifty," she told him.
One eyebrow lifted slightly. "That's not what the sign says." He put two hundred on the counter.
She smiled and took the money, glancing ruefully at the prices that sat on the counter behind her. "Would you like me to send anything else up? Maybe some dinner, an herbal remedy," she paused as she handed him the key, "Or perhaps some medicine?"
His mouth twitched but he remained somewhat stoic. "Soup?"
"Of course. Your room number is on the key. Have a good night, sir."
He continued to the stairs, his walk somewhat deliberate, as though each step was a carefully thought out maneuver. It could have been, for all she knew, considering how exhausted he looked. Trowa came down not a minute later and went to the door, locking it from the outside, and then announced the closing of the tavern for the night to the few who were still left. As they began to pick themselves up and move to the door, he came back behind the bar with Catherine with the last of the glasses.
"You know," she said, on a quieter note as she began to count the money for the day, "I think that foreign-looking guy may have been a ninja. I thought I saw a peek of white under that ratty old cloak."
Trowa glanced at her as he continued with the dishes. "Really."
"Very stiff, especially his right shoulder. Remember, Duo had an injury just like it, once."
The tall youth smiled privately at the memory, but eventually came back to the ninja comment. "He's pretty far away from home if he is," he remarked off-handedly, in his usual even manner.
"It's been such an interesting night," Catherine mused. "I wonder what it means."
"It means something?"
She smiled at her brother over her shoulder and put a hand on her hip. "Of course it does! You'll see."
-- () --
She could not remember how long she'd been riding. It seemed like days, though she knew it couldn't have been that long. She'd set out from the Inn sometime early in the morning, and though there wasn't ever much light at all in the forest, she figured it had to be late.
The Forbidden Forest. Sana hadn't expected it to be this terrifying. It was much darker than she'd thought it would be, and the trail looped and turned so many times that she'd lost count. There was no telling how many miles she was away from home, but the very thought of being away from home was something of a consolation. At least she had that. That, and the screaming muscles in her legs and back. She'd never been on a horse for so long, had never done anything like this before. She'd planned for days, regulated her meals and money carefully beforehand; she'd known that it was going to be far from easy. She just hadn't expected it to be this hard. Once she reached Traun, there was certainly no way she was going to turn around and go back.
Her horse jerked under her suddenly and hunched over, gripping the reins tightly. "Whoa, girl, slow down," she gasped, and tried to keep the mare from veering off the path. The speckled horse had something different in mind, however, and moved off of the small road and into the surrounding woods. Sana pulled on the reins to no avail. Something had scared the animal and she'd gone into flight mode. That did not bode well.
The branch came up fast, too fast for her to react. The next thing she knew she hit the ground with a painful thud. Her head reeled from the impact and little white spots swam in her vision as the already confusing forest began to spiral out of control before her eyes. She rolled on her side, coughing, and tried to push herself up but found that she lacked the basic coordination to even sit up. Her head was pounding but her heart was pounding harder. She'd made it so far; this couldn't be the end.
She became suddenly aware of something looming in front of her and her breathing picked up rapidly. Sana could hardly breathe, and each intake of breath stung in her chest. Something picked her up off the ground roughly and the movement took everything out of her. She went limp as blackness set in.
That something that held her pulled her close and propped her body against his. An arm around her waist kept her up as he began to brush her long, black strands off her neck. She was so warm, and her blood was still pumping wildly with fear through her veins. He could smell it and it made him delirious, giddy. Her exposed throat was white and seemed to glow in the surrounding black of the forest, inviting him to taste. His fangs cut through her flesh easily, effortlessly, and he began to drink.
He always started out very slow, as though he were tasting a good wine for the first time. It wasn't very often he had the chance to drink something so splendid as human blood and he was going to enjoy this, guilt free.
But something unexpected happened. He felt a burning in his mouth and down his throat and paused in his drinking. The sensation grew rapidly and he realized with a start that it was her blood. He pushed her away and spit the blood out of his mouth, wiping it off his lips as best he could. He continued to spit, trying to rid himself of all he could, until the pain subsided. As it was, he was no longer hungry.
She lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, her cloak and hair fanning about her as though she'd been set up that way. In that position he got a better look at her and the goods on her person; on the wealthier end, certainly, with those rich fabrics, finely tailored to her form. And then he stopped entirely and took a closer look at her, sucking in his breath.
It was her. The one from the tavern, the one the other man had spoken to with such affection. He stood there and stared at her, his dark eyes brooding, remembering. Minutes passed by without so much as a sound or movement, but finally he stepped towards her immobile form and crouched down next to her.
Unconscious as she was, she was still lovely. He remembered the peek of pale flesh and midnight hair from under her cloak, and the soft but unmistakable smell of femininity as she'd passed by him back in that inn, and the look he'd given her as she'd gone up the stairs. There was definitely something to her. He felt his resolve slip away and something akin to intrigue took its place as he continued to study her.
She was still breathing, and upon closer inspection, the bite marks he'd left on her neck were harmless. She really wasn't even bleeding any more, which was interesting in itself. He began to pick through her clothes, feeling the expensive fabric, and the soft skin underneath. Definitely a wealthy brat. He exhaled, a little annoyed, and glanced around before picking her up. He couldn't just leave her here, especially since he scared the horse away. She'd be prime pickings for some other dark creature of the forest. Besides, there was still the curious effect of her blood, that terrible burning sensation.
He told himself that his reluctance to leave her alone had nothing to do with the assassin from the inn, that he wasn't getting soft because of what happened. It was just something for him to do, something to wile the time away before Keru returned with her catches. He wasn't entirely sure he believed himself.