1 Author: Imo-chan

Title: With Quill in Hand – pt 1

2 Genre: AU. Shakespeare. ^_^

3 Disclaimers: All not mine. Except for the excerpts from the play at the beginning. Those are Wufei's. And no one would want them, anyway. ^-^'''

4 Summary: A story about the G-boys as a troupe of Shakespearian-type actors struggling with treachery, guilt, and puberty. ^.^ Quatre's voice breaks and in his place, Duo-the-street-punk is cast across from Heero in the lead female role, while Wufei has to deal with the everpresent threat of eviction and some demons from his past.

5

6 Warnings: AU - set in a made-up world very similar to Great Britian during the Renaissance, but not exactly (just cause I don't wanna be historically correct!!) Yaoi in later parts, 1x2, 4x?. Angst, Evil Zechs, SUPER-evil Treize, non-graphic rape. A bit of humor.. come on, Wufei's a playwright and Heero's an actor.. *cough* that's gotta be good for a few laughs. Plus, Crazy!Dorothy. Yay!!

Notes: thanks go to Blue for the beta, and to the loyal followers of this evil fic who still manage to hang on despite the fact that I CAN'T write it. Grar. Thank you!!~ *glomps*

7

8 Bane: It is the iron shackle

That binds my wrist to her wing

This that is the cruelest snare

This that is my saviour

And yet will be nothing more than pain for her.

Alas, destiny can be so unkind

Even with the shortest breath

She hath caused a tumultuous affair.

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[The 23rd of April, 1564, on the grounds of the Yuy Manor]

A youth of fifteen, with hair the colour of España chocolate and eyes like burning blue suns sat sternly upon his white horse, watching the night- darkened clouds as they gathered menacingly, like a thousand dark grey snakes, above him. A furrow formed between his dark brows and he scowled darkly at the threatening sky. Shifting nervously in his saddle, he glanced at his companion who was also staring anxiously into the sky.

"She should have been back by now, Heero," the stern one's companion muttered uneasily. His long blond hair flew back from his shoulders as a wind that smelled of storm and destruction whipped past the two youths to travel on and stir the canopies of the distant trees into a dark verdant frenzy. The stars in the sky were rapidly disappearing as the billows of storm clouds formed the hovering pregnancy that was the coming onslaught.

"I know," the dark one murmured in reply, his eyes still searching the horizon for a sign of life that didn't scream 'storm'.

"Did she go back to manor?" Heero's companion offered hopefully, ice- blue eyes glancing somewhat yearningly back at the safety of the house.

"Perhaps," Heero scowled darkly at the dark gathering of trees that signaled, even in the blackness of the looming night storm, where the forest of the Manor grounds began.

"Heero?" The tall blond clicked his tongue at his horse and made to turn back to the shelter of the manor house.

Heero held up a steady hand and shot a dark look at his friend. "Just a few more minutes, Milliardo, My Lord," he said softly, his eyes turning back to scan the trees.

"Heero…" Milliardo's golden brows tightened with worry.

"What would you do if it was Her Highness who was missing, instead of my sister?" Heero asked tersely, his voice as dark and heavy as the weighty clouds overhead.

The blond prince paused in his saddle; his eyes of blue frost were filled with sympathy as they passed over Heero's straight and determined stance and the ominous forecasting of the wind and tumbling clouds.

"All right then," Milliardo sighed against the increasing wind, "Just a few more minutes."

Heero looked back, lines of thanks showing faintly on his usually impassive face. He opened his mouth to speak when the sky split with a shriek of light and sound; a forked tongue of electric noise collided with the ground, and Heero's head snapped around to watch as the forest was engulfed in a brilliant flicker of light, before being plunged into the inky blue of the storm as the rain began to fall in torrents.

Without any warning, Heero spurred his horse forward into the downpour, his eyes haunted by immense anger and worry. The blond prince started after him with a strangled cry, but his horse shied as another fork of lightening licked the ground and cracked the sobbing sky.

"Heero!" Milliardo screamed against the wind, but the form of his friend had already disappeared into the flashing night that streamed tears of stinging water. "Heero!" He called again, desperate, casting one more almost furtive glance back at the manor house, before plunging head long into the waiting storm, after his friend.

Once again, lightening split the sky with a shrill crackle of destruction.



Milliardo Peacecraft could barely make out the dark, blurred silhouettes of the trees as he plunged through the forest, bent low over his steed's neck, the rain pounding like a million stinging tears into his eyes, his hair, his clothes. The night was very dark, albeit for the frequent flashes of lightening that lit up the sky with the booming accompaniment of the thunder, and the prince could hardly see the beaten path that wound through the forest. With hasty violence, he wrenched one hand away from the reins to wipe hurriedly at his eyes, to try and clear his vision of the torrents of rainwater. He would never find Heero in this weather, he knew, and he could only hope that his childhood friend had had the good sense to find shelter somewhere. But Milliardo knew, in the hot and burning part of his mind that screamed worried reality, that Heero would never leave his sister to the storm. After all, it had been he, Heero, who had let the younger Yuy venture out on her own steed. If anything happened to her… Milliardo shuddered at the thought of Heero's reaction.

Another crack of lightening sounded, and was seen, very near; the fork licking at the dome of the swirling indigo-grey sky. Milliardo felt the flames of anxiety sear his heart as the flash lit the weeping world, and he pulled harshly on the reins, his horse nearly sitting with the force of the halt. He immediately thought it best to find some place to wait the storm out, or at least continue on at a slower pace; for he could barely see his hands in front of him, the torrential rain and swirling dark made it impossible to see. Pulling the hood of his coat over his golden head, he placed a hand over his brows to shield his vision from the violent rain, hoping to gauge some indication of where Heero had gone.

He could see nothing but darkness and hear nothing but the roar of the wind and rain.

He drew in a shaking breath and pulled the cloak tighter around his body, urging his skittering horse forward with his heels, when the slippery ground fell out from underneath his steed's hooves and both horse and rider plunged down the sudden slope of the muddy path. Milliardo pulled back hard against the thrashing, sliding horse, as its hind end tucked underneath it, causing the right flank to come in contact with the rain- drenched slope. As the horse fell backwards, Milliardo's coat snagged on a branch as both animal and man slid downwards and the blond prince was forced off his steed; he tumbled from the saddle and found himself rolling through the sea of mud as his horse was thrown forward, out of the restrains of his rider's hands. Immediately after feeling solid ground under its hooves, the frightened animal squealed and bolted, leaving Milliardo buried in thick, oozing mud that seeped like dark blood into his already soaking clothes. With a low groan, he watched as his horse dashed off into the darkness of the trees. Pulling himself up, the wind tugging at his heavy, thick, dirt-laden cloak, he growled in frustration, and brushing mud-covered bangs out of his eyes, he cursed into the storm after his rapidly retreating steed.

Milliardo sighed against the howling wind, and the lightening flashed in answer. With another violent oath, the blond prince stamped his foot in frustration; unfortunately the ground was still wet, and the mud held little support for Milliardo's wrath, and down he went again, collapsing in an undignified heap of long, golden dirt-matted hair, mud-spattered clothes, and flailing limbs.



The prince picked his way carefully through the aftermath of the storm, the moon and stars which had emerged after the clouds receded made it much easier to see, and Milliardo could once again hear the reassuring rush of the nearby stream that gave him his bearings. Lightly straddling a fallen tree, the Peacecraft prince scanned the still dripping forest-scape, searching for a sign of Heero and his sister. Despite his own luck in escaping the squall more or less unscathed, Milliardo still had his worries as to how well the Yuy children had endured. Heero, no doubt, would have been able to handle himself. He was only a year younger than the blond prince, and already, Milliardo would admit (although grudgingly) that the elder Yuy son was a better marksman and a better warrior, although his social skills were somewhat lacking. However, the youngest child of the family, the sister to Heero; not only was she still unsteady on a horse, but also, she tended to be a bit irrational. As well, the horse she was riding was not a trustworthy animal. Any number of things could have happened to her…

In almost direct answer to his worries, Milliardo heard a soft whinny of a horse, very nearby. The prince sighed in relief, shifting uncomfortably in his still-wet cloak and leaped over the fallen tree, spurring himself, despite the fatigue towards the direction where he had heard the sound.

"Heero!" He called loudly, hoping to gain some bearing on his friend's location.

There was no answer; only the eerie calm of the whispering leaves, the steady dripping of the reminiscent rainwater, and the soft rushing of the nearby stream.

"Heero!" Milliardo called again, crashing through some low underbrush, emerging into a small, sheltered clearing surrounded by a small slope of the land. There, in the bowl of soaking verdant grass, knelt the elder Yuy, his back to Milliardo, his head bent over, and his horse standing watchful nearby.

The figure, however, did not move.

"Heero! I've found you," Milliardo sighed cheerfully, struggling confusedly with the strange, alarming silence. He attempted to move to greet his friend, but found his cloak was tangled in the low growth. He snarled and yanked free; the force of the sudden entrapment lessened sent him once again sprawling towards the ground. Rather ungraciously, he caught himself and half-slid, half-bounded down the small slope towards his immobile friend.

"Heero?" He called again, a nervous smile edging his young features. "What on earth are you doing sitting down there? For God's sake, the ground is wet!" He laughed lightly, hoping to induce a reaction.

"Heero?" He asked again, the smile dropping from his face. As he approached closer, all became obvious, and he stopped, eyes wide and hands trembling.

"Hee – " His voice stuck in his throat.

"Oh…" He paused, breath hitching, "Oh no."

And Heero moved. His upper body twitched, and his head rose ever so slightly, and turned to the side, the movement barely visible. He looked like a blind man searching for a murmur, the eyes were distant, unfocused and the pain was raw. His hands clenched and unclenched, like kneading claws, in the matted, dirty hair of the young girl that lay sprawled across his lap. The moonlight spilled through the leaves of the trees and across her broken form, casting little, swirling shadows along her face and neck, like grotesque markings of ash and soot. Her eyes were open and empty, her young face twisted in shock and a half-second of pain, her body was twisted in a sickening fashion; her neck was broken.

Milliardo let out a half-sob, taking a hesitant step towards the nauseating scene. His body was screaming for him to run, but his mind demanded that he salvage his friend's soul.

Heero blinked owlishly at the sound, and his eyes traveled slowly back to the dead girl on his lap. He was still silent, and Milliardo found he had the strength to approach him, placing a muddy hand upon the soaking shoulder. He felt Heero convulse slightly under the touch.

"My lord?" The fire in the voice was gone, quenched by the torrents of rain that poured from his unfocused eyes. Heero sounded as though his very insides were raw and bleeding, the words were no more than a ghost before the pain that was relayed in the tone.

"Heero…" Milliardo choked the words from his throat, forcing his lips to move.

"I killed the horse," Heero's lips were blue. "Its front leg shattered when it fell. It was going to die anyway, I think."

Milliardo forced himself to reach down and run a trembling hand over the dead girl's eyes, forcing the placid lids closed. Somehow, that simple action faded the horror that throbbed in his mind.

"I didn't mean for her to die…"

There was silence again, and the blond prince knelt beside his friend, gauging the reaction as Heero drew in a shaking sigh, and closed his eyes. Milliardo knew what was coming, and he once again, forced the words past his lips.

"I won't tell them, Heero," he rasped, "Not if you don't want me to."

Heero eyes snapped open, and he scowled darkly, his eyes looked more than a little confused as he concentrated on the face of his dead sister.

"Thank you," he murmured, and his voice was gagged with the beginnings of unrelenting guilt.

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