Disclaimer: Please note that I do not own the Gundam Wing characters. However, the literature is mine. This story was originally written for a different fandom but I have decided to rewrite it for the GW fandom. I hope you can enjoy the story for what it is and I definitely welcome any constructive criticism you may have.
Main Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 13x5
Rated: M
Warning: AU, Dark, Angst, Romance, Non-Con, Lemon
Note:
Thank you Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Ren for your reviews. I am excited to know that you are interested in the plot :)! As you are my first reviewers after returning to the fanfiction scene, I would like to write each of you a one-shot as a thank you. Please let me know if you have a plot in mind or if you would like me to surprise you. Also, let me know what rating (i.e. PG, NC17, etc.) that you would like it to be and what pairing. Much love!
Mysteria: Myth of the Siren
By Solo's Cry (soloscry)
Chapter IX
It has been years since the Barton Estates was in such a frenzied state. Maids and servants of every kind ran in every which direction in hopes of being able to correct the state of the household before the Master arrived.
Furthermore, they had just received word that the Woman was a mere fortnight behind.
By the Gods, they could only pray that the Master would pity them enough to chuck her out of the window and find another damsel who didn't make their lives a living hell.
The steward unrolled a tightly secured scroll and scanned its contents before looking up, "Make haste. The Master will arrive in less than an hour." He turned a stern eye to a servant hovering nearby, "Have the Master's quarters ready, I will come by to check in half an hour."
The steward reached out to grab a servant's arm before she could run off, "Tell his personal servants to expect an extra person." He turned away and observed the diligently working servants running from corridor to corridor before looking back down to the scroll, "According to his orders, the person is male, spirited and…" He paused, "… loves... music...?"
The maid raised an eyebrow, "Sir?"
This was the most Trowa Barton has ever written in any correspondence. The steward blinked and stared at the contents of the scroll one last time.
Smirking, he turned to look at the servant with a mischievous look, "It appears that our Master has finally had his interest piqued." He quickly secured the scroll again and threw it into an awaiting flame, "A boy Siren…" He quickly shook his thoughts out of his mind and waved to the maid, "Send the word, I'll be there shortly."
The maid watched wide-eyed as the steward walked away, the man's final words fleeting and nonchalant, "Let us see just how wonderfully Miss Dorothy will react to this boy."
The amused and slightly sadistic chuckle the steward left echoing in the busy corridor was enough to send shivers down the poor servant's spine.
The Woman will surely turn all of Dakrian land into hellfire.
.oO{ }Oo.
~Everyone has a fate… a destiny… a path chosen by the Judges of the Gates. You cannot escape what has been prophesized. Even your death has been planned ahead…~
Duo steadily moved forward, the distorted vision given to him through his companion's falcon-eyes becoming second-nature after the countless days that have passed since his arrival on the mountain.
He aimlessly followed whichever direction the eerie voice commanded him to go. His own thoughts a foreign stream fluttering across his mind's eye.
~That's right, Duo. You have no control. None.~
Just follow the voice. And everything will be alright.
The underlying chuckle under the words went unheard as Duo's mind began to wonder further away from his body.
~The faster you realize you are powerless, the faster we leave this silent space on the mountain… ~
It's a loophole used to protect the Fire.
Those who do not bend to the Fire's will are forever stuck in this void.
So just follow the voice.
… just… follow… the voice...
~Good boy.~
.oO{ }Oo.
It was nighttime now. Nothing save for the moonlight from the large glass windows allowed Wufei to see around the large room.
After a nice warm bath, he had been sent over here to the mansion that sat a few miles away from the fortress.
The spacious room was airy and comfortable. The dark wooden floors were covered by lush dark cerulean rugs. Prussian blue silks were used to line the majestic bedroom.
The Captain had taste. That much was for certain.
Wufei sat anxiously on the center of the bed. The bed, too, was adorned in the expensive Prussian blue silk, it's cool and smooth surface leaving his skin feeling soft and fresh.
He would have spent more time appreciating the atmosphere if he wasn't completely naked and achy all over.
The only modesty they had allowed him was his own small stretch of blue silk wrapped loosely over his shoulders and the intense ache radiating from his lower body was hard to ignore. He had attempted to walk to the window earlier but his legs trembled every time he put weight on them.
Wufei felt his face flush hot as memories of what transpired replayed in his mind and he couldn't help but wonder why he didn't feel more ashamed by his body's reactions. He has never been intimate with anyone, male or female, before in his life. The mere thought had never even crossed his mind...
The dark wood door silently opened, the warmth of torchlight fluttering in.
The softly crackling torch was held securely in a sword-hardened hand, its glow shimmering delicately over the toned upper body of the Captain. A carelessly tied sheet of Prussian blue silk was the only cloth that concealed the man's body.
Wufei held his breath, his eyes watching as Treize crossed over to the glass bowl near the window, "Where have you been?"
Treize smirked, his eyes suddenly glowing a bright azure before a conjured mist extinguished the torch, the sharp sizzle broke the calm silence, "I was with my mistress." He turned, his eyes returning to sapphire as he discarded the torch into the bowl, "She has been lonely…"
Wufei felt his throat dry as the man started over to the bed, his hands unconsciously tightening the silk tighter over his shoulders, "You have a mistress?"
Treize chuckled, "Of course. In fact… I have over a dozen."
Wufei felt his nose wrinkle.
"But I do feel guilty…" Treize sat down, his bare chest edging closer to the nervous siren sitting on his bed, "Guilty that I made her moan and cry out… yet feeling nothing… and only thinking of the vulnerable siren trapped in my room." The Captain's words were soft and barely audible as he leaned closer, "Guilty? Yes… it would seem so."
Wufei didn't fight when Treize moved in to capture his lips.
The kiss slow and mind-numbingly soft.
.oO{ }Oo.
Why? Why did he do this to himself?
Trowa shot a glare over his shoulder at the bickering duo behind him, his hands tightening on the rein of his horse, "Quiet."
Rashid huffed, the act completely contrasting with his huge stature. He turned his head away from the obviously fuming siren beside him and crossed his arms, "He started it."
"I did not!" Quatre's big blue eyes were wide with determination, "Mermaids and sirens are two completely different species, Rashid!"
Trowa forced himself not to react and faced the front again, "We will arrive shortly. Do not embarrass me."
Quatre pouted, nudging his horse closer to the stoic Lieutenant, "It's not like I want to be here."
Trowa's green eyes flickered over to Quatre without turning his head, "Just because I didn't gag and bound you, doesn't mean you aren't a prisoner, Siren."
Quatre found himself glaring at the tall boy with frown, "You know, you've captured me for weeks now and I have yet to figure out why you have even bothered." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "You're not… like that… are you?"
Trowa's shoulders stiffened with annoyance.
Rashid chuckled from behind them, "Even if he were, Siren, what's it to you?"
Quatre craned his head and looked over his shoulder, "Didn't anyone tell you that eavesdropping is a bad habit?"
Rashid smirked, leaning to rest his forearms on the back of his horse's neck, "Well then, it's a good thing I'm a bundle of bad habits, now isn't it?"
Trowa listened somberly with a scowl, "I am not gay."
Quatre forced his attentions back to Trowa, "What did you say?"
The fury that was radiating off Trowa's back was almost visible.
Rashid finally moved up to align with them, his facial expression unreadable as he watched Quatre's gaze shift to the ground at the notion, "I don't think that is something that can be said, Lieutenant."
Trowa roughly straightened his back, "I am a Fire of the Fire. What I say is the truth." His eyes found the confused siren and he smirked, "Truth cannot be changed."
Quatre looked away, his voice soft, "Truths can change over time."
Trowa faced the front again, "And time, Siren, is something a military man lacks. Death is forever upon us. Change is for those who survive."
Quatre looked over at the headstrong Dakrian beside him and a sudden pinch of sadness moved his heart, "Then survive." He moved closer as he spoke louder, "Strive to see the future. Death is for cowards."
Rashid kept silent, his eyes trained on his cousin, "Lieutenant?"
Trowa let a moment of quiet pass before he breathed out his words, "A coward?" He looked over to Quatre with a perfectly frozen face, "Yes. I am the biggest coward you will ever meet, Siren."
Quatre let Trowa's horse move ahead, his own horse slowing.
A Fire of the Fire, he said. And… that name… Dorothy…
Quatre felt his pulse race at the name. But he didn't know why.
.oO{ }Oo.
"Prince Heero. The King asks for an audience."
Heero lay motionless in his bed, a hand moving to cover his eyes tiredly, "And under which circumstances does he ask?"
The servant stood nervously at the door, the sound of ragged breathing loud and clear, "He… I… I cannot even begin to describe them, Prince Heero. In fact… I do not even think I have the liberty to speak of it out loud."
Of course. Why else would the King ask for him? The man only knew of his existence when something dire and possibly fatal came about.
Heero sat up, the white silk cloth covering his upper body sliding to puddle around his waist, his bare chest relaxed from his slumber, "Go. I will be there shortly."
The servant gave a deep, humble bow before retreating quickly.
The General slid off of his bed, grabbing the pair of white pants hanging on a white plush chair beside him.
Dakria was the land of the seven moons. The area where darkness settled and stayed. Sometimes… people even believed that Dakria was where darkness came from.
His room was a brilliant contrast to the lands. The walls were a glazed white, the shimmer of the walls reflecting every once in a while in the lamp light. Even the thick carpet under his feet was pure white.
The ceiling, the bedding, the chairs, the drawers, the desk…
All white.
Unfortunately, the white became rather insulting after countless bloody battles, but it had always served its purpose.
To rid him of the Dakrian mind and flush him into a world of innocence and blissful ignorance.
A world where war and humanity will never reach… a place that is bare and untouched by bloodshed.
Heero shrugged on the stiff uniform jacket and secured his weapon onto his side. He allowed his eyes to turn into the brilliant Onyx of his element, a breeze sweeping through his room to eliminate the flickering torches along the pristine white walls. The walls shimmered from the dying light before everything turned dark once more.
A stoic expression adorned his face as he strode out of his room, his voice monotone, "My presence is needed before the King, have my horse saddled, I will be leaving immediately."
One of the two guards at his door saluted, "Will do, General. Will we be accompanying you, Sir?"
Heero trained a guarded glance over his shoulder, "No. I will be traveling alone."
Milliardo was not in Dakria. His brother's presence has grown cold in the lands.
No doubt, Milliardo's absence will be the concern of his audience today.
The King would obviously be in hysterics now that his heir has disappeared.
Heero's lips pressed together grimly.
This will be interesting.
.oO{ }Oo.
The air was stuffy and hot, his skin felt as if he was bathed in molten lava…
He could sense a presence beside him, an intense thermal heat clutching tightly on his hand.
Milou shakily opened his eyes, his vision blurring wildly before sharpening, "… ha…."
Dry… his throat was so dry…
The heat around his hand stirred as the sleeping man jolted, a familiar voice breaking the silence painfully, "Milou!"
In a matter of seconds, a cold glass was pressed against his parched lips and liquid poured down his throat.
Loud footsteps sounded from outside the room before a person burst in, "Milou! You're awake!"
He pushed the glass away, his head throbbing, "Loud…"
Otto continued to clutch Milou's hand, a smile gracing his sharp features, "How are you feeling?"
"… I… I don't know…" Milou let Otto help him up into a seated position, "How long was I out?"
Otto shook his head, his voice fleeting, "Months, soldier. Months. What happened?"
Milou glanced over to his lover with a grimace, "A sorceress… a sorceress is upon us."
Otto looked confused, "A sorceress? Was she the one keeping you unconscious?"
Milou's hand came up to run through his short black hair, his nile blue eyes hazy. After what felt like an eternity, he shook his head as if to clear it before looking up at the person still standing near the door, "Odin… go to Captain Khushrenada… inform him… that the West has returned."
End Chapter IX
