**This Story Contains Tcest**
Pairings: Leonardo/Michelangelo, Raphael/Donatello
Info: Alternate Universe, Clan Life, Action/Adventure, Romance

~*~ Chapter One: Anyway the Wind Blows ~*~

The carriage was rocking back and forth as it bounced on the dirt road, jostling its occupants steadily. Michelangelo was eyeing the young turtle sitting across from him, noting that the already light green color of his skin was definitely starting to look a little pale.

Self-preservation kicking in, Mikey leaned forward and opened the window panel next to the young man's head, speaking softly. "You look like you need some fresh air there, buddy."

The stranger swallowed with a grimace and nodded his thanks, pressing his face into the small opening.

Disaster momentarily avoided; Mikey observed his companions. The sickly young man wore thick trousers with a thread bare tunic and jacket in colors so dull they looked like they had never been dyed. His old boots sported a hole in one toe and there was dirt under his fingernails. He was obviously a farmer or tradesman of some type, Mikey decided, as his eyes slid to the young female turtle sitting beside the youth.

Her skin was a pleasant fern color and she was well dressed, her long skirts clean without any blemishes, but her shoes were plain, and she wore no jewelry except for one small chain and pendant around her neck. The fabric wasn't fine enough to make her a noble though, maybe a high-ranking servant or a shopkeeper.

On his left side sat another young woman, a human surprisingly, dressed similarly to the turtle across from her, but she wore a small jeweled ring with matching necklace and there were adornments in her chestnut hair that could only have been woven into the strands by a handmaid or servant, and she held her chin up in a haughty sort of way, showing she was likely the daughter of a businessman or a low ranked noble.

Looking down at himself he noticed the small hole in his trousers at the knee and the frayed edge of his long-sleeved tunic. Last night he'd had a well-tailored jacket that was practically new, but a little too much drink and his lack of finesse at cards had lost him that treasure before the moon had reached its peak.

The jacket was payment for a job that he wasn't likely to see the same like of again and it would be too much hassle to peddle the coin needed to replace it. Once again it was made clear that he really needed to get better at staying away from the card tables, he had really liked that jacket.

So when the Hamato Clan soldiers had approached him as he stumbled out of the tavern into the bright morning sun, offering free food and drink for the day if he would accompany them to the estate, he didn't really feel the need to ask why, even if it ended up being some kind of pitch to get him to join the army or something boring like that. The chance to relieve the soldiers of an item or two that they probably didn't need anyway was too good to pass up, and he was confident in his ability to slip out of notice if the situation got too weird.

They had been traveling nonstop for about four hours, but Mikey had slept through most of it, snoring through his hangover. His carriage companions didn't seem too bothered by it though.

Bored, and desperate to find out how much longer this was going to take, he looked out his window to see rolling green hills and well-tended farmland. Up ahead the road they were on twisted north though the outskirts of a village. Peasants tending to livestock and leading carts of goods began to appear on the sides of the road as they trundled past.

A few minutes later the road curved and Mikey's jaw dropped as the estate came in to view.

Sure, he had been in wealthy villages before, he had seen noble houses large enough to sleep an entire army unit. Hell, he had once cased a house so massive it could have been a small palace, even though the job fell through and he never got to see the inside.

But this? This was beyond anything he ever expected.

The Hamato Clan Estate was spread across a wide hillside at the base of a towering mountain range. The village they were passing through butted right up to a tall stone wall that surrounded the entire property with soldiers pacing their rounds along the battlements. Just inside the wall he could see tall noble houses, gilded in their wealth, and up at the peak of the hill was a palace unlike anything he had ever seen before.

The ebony rooftops, sloped into wings at the corners with statues of dragons and gargoyles perched on the edges, capped expertly crafted buildings that were all low to the ground with only the one at the center, most likely the main hall, having any height to it. Accents of gold and silver at every window and doorway glinted in the sunlight, and lush trees of cherry and maple filled every empty space as far as the eye could see.

With a stunned blink Michelangelo realized that maybe this little trip would be worth his while after all.

They soon passed through the gates at the wall and the carriage steadily climbed the hill before rolling to a stop. After a second a footman opened the door and the two women stepped out, followed by the young turtle who somehow had managed to look even greener than he already was, then Mikey slid out after him.

The youth was bent over, looking down through his knees, his legs shaking a little. Mikey patted him lightly on the back. "You'll be alright, buddy. Deep breaths, there you... go..."

He whistled through his teeth as he looked at his surroundings. Up close everything was far grander than it had looked from the road. The sunlight passing through the tree branches made everything sparkle and shine. For a second, he even thought that there were jewels set into the cobblestones under his feet before he realized that it must be some kind of colored glass.

There were five other carriages lined up in the courtyard and their occupants were gathering around where Mikey and his dry heaving companion stood. From the apprehensive looks on most of their faces it looked like none of them really knew what they were doing there either.

The soldiers that had accompanied the carriage train disappeared as soon as all the occupants were out, leaving only the footmen and a couple of stable hands who rushed forward to tend to the horses. Mikey was about to grab one of them to ask what was supposed to be happening when the doors of the low building in front of them opened and an important looking young steward walked out.

This new turtle was lithe and moved gracefully, the olive toned color of his skin almost glowing in the tree filtered light. He wore only simple trousers and a long tunic fastened with dark wooden toggles down the front. The fabric was of a quality Mikey had only seen on the richest nobles, expertly dyed in a soft lilac color, with beautifully detailed bell flowers embroidered in varying shades of red silk cascading down the arms and torso of the tunic. He was obviously the head of staff or some other high-ranking position among the servants.

The newcomer looked them all over carefully before offering a small smile. "Welcome to the estate. My name is Donatello. The Hamato Clan would like to thank you all for agreeing to join us here today and we hope it hasn't been too much of an inconvenience. If you would please be so kind as to follow me."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and went back inside the building. The others began to follow, but Mikey spun and looked at the carriage he had just exited, his eyes traveling up to where his satchel and case were strapped to the top.

The footman stepped forward, reassuringly. "Don't worry sir, your things will be safe here until you have need of them."

"Oh, ok, sure. Thanks." He was uncomfortable with the thought of his belongings being out of his sight, but couldn't see any way of getting to them without making a scene, and he was far too curious about what was about to happen to get thrown out now. So, with a resigned nod he quickly caught up with the rest of the group.

The doors led into a large gathering space, half of the room was partitioned off behind simple screens, which was mildly interesting, but Mikey's eyes widened with appreciation at seeing large tables laden with delicious looking food and drink taking up part of the other half of the room. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Looking around he saw the olive-skinned turtle from before standing in a partially opened doorway. He looked as if he was speaking to someone that hidden on the other side of the door, and from where Mikey stood it looked like a pretty serious conversation that he might be involved with for another few minutes.

Thinking he would pass the time waiting by sampling some of the offerings, Mikey started inching his way over to the table of food, managing to shove a particularly delicious looking dumpling into his mouth before their guide turned away from the door.

Mikey watched him carefully as he moved across the room to address the group again. He looked uncomfortable, like he was about to deliver some bad news, but Mikey had always been a very observant type of turtle and behind the stewards chocolate colored eyes he could just make out a hint of what might be anticipation, or just plain hopefulness, sometimes it was difficult to tell the two apart.

Donatello began, wringing his hands just a little. "I'll get right to the point. Lord Hamato has decreed that his eldest son, Leonardo, must choose a bond mate before the night of the coming harvest moon."

Michelangelo's eye ridges shot up so high they were at risk of flying off his head.

Most of the others must have reacted in the same way because Donatello looked apologetic. "We brought you all here today with the hope that we might encourage that choice with as little... hassle as possible. Now, I want to be clear, none of you are here under any obligation or expectation. If you have no interest in what I have just proposed then you are welcome to leave, the carriages outside will return you to your homes with no questions asked, and we apologize for wasting your time."

He stopped and gestured to the open doors behind them. After a few seconds two individuals peeled off from the group and left the room, the first being the noble's daughter that Mikey had ridden in with, the other a dark handsomely dressed man from one of the other carriages. Donatello waited another full minute before deciding that no one else was moving to leave.

"Very well." He said with a smile. "Please, help yourselves to the food and drink. There are also bathing tubs and clean clothes behind the screens, and servants to help you should you wish to freshen up. We only ask that you do not leave this room. Relax, enjoy Lord Hamato's hospitality, and in a short while a guide will come to escort you to the garden where we will discuss what happens next."

Donatello nodded a little awkwardly and quickly left through the doorway he had just been standing in.

Mikey grabbed another dumpling and chewed, an incredulous smile on his lips as he silently laughed. The idea that they had all been gathered just so that the clan leader's son could choose his mate was, quite frankly, hilarious. Of all the scenarios Mikey had envisioned when those soldiers approached him a few hours ago, this had definitely not been one of them.

If he was smart, he'd walk straight out those doors and get right back in that carriage.

But there was all this food that the clan leader was generous enough to provide, and he'd have to be a moron to turn down free wine. Eyeing the screens across the room, he decided that a nice hot bath didn't sound too bad either. He might have no interest in the idea of bedding this eldest son, but he wasn't stupid enough to leave before sampling some of the high life first.

And if he could pocket a few trinkets in the meantime, well, surely a Lord of Hamato's status wouldn't notice.

A little over an hour later he was mildly drunk, his belly was full, and he was clean for the first time in weeks. The soap smelled of ginger and orange blossoms.

The servants disposed of his tattered old pants and shirt and supplied him with the nicest clothes that he had ever had the pleasure to wear. The trousers were soft and warm, and the new tunic was plain, but he had managed to find one in the perfect shade of dark orange that was his favorite. They had even offered him a new pair of basic but sturdy boots, and the best part was the servant had said he was welcome to keep the items.

He would have anyway, but it was nice to know he didn't have to be light fingered with at least the clothes.

At this point Mikey suspected that a good number of the group had simply stayed to partake of the provided offerings and that few of them were actually interested in what Donatello had proposed, in fact two others had already left as soon as they had finished eating, stuffing as much food in their pockets as they could manage without being noticed.

The remaining twenty people were reasonably varied in status, mostly low nobles and well to do peasants. The sickly young man and the young woman from the carriage earlier had stayed, the youth looked like he had fully recovered, and a bath had improved his appearance immensely. They both had definitely been enjoying the wine and were now making eyes at each other over the tea cakes.

The others had gathered in small pockets of two to four individuals and were deep in their own conversations. Michelangelo drifted among them, smiling, telling jokes, earning trust and asking questions. It was what he was good at, and before long he had acquired a treasure trove of bits of information that, in the right hands, would be incredibly useful.

Suddenly a set of doors at the back of the room opened wide and an older turtle servant stepped in, his wrinkled skin graying around his eyes and mouth. He was clapping lightly to get their attention. "I have been instructed to inform you that anyone who wishes to leave may do so now. However, if you plan to stay then I would ask that you please follow me."

The young man and woman from Mikey's carriage ran off through the door back to the waiting carriages, hand in hand, giggling adorably, with eight others following them soon after.

He thought about joining them, but for some reason, probably the wine, he was growing more curious about this place as each minute passed and he just didn't want to leave yet.

Maybe he was being stupid, he was good at that too, but it felt like the right choice to join the others over by the old servant. They followed him as he led them into a secluded garden nestled between a set of buildings, a canopy of maple leaves and cherry blossoms over their heads.

Donatello was sitting on a wide bench at the back of a decently sized clearing in the trees, scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment. He looked up as they approached, counting their heads, and seemed almost disappointed to find only ten of them remaining.

With a resigned shake of his head he stood and addressed them. "Thank you all for staying. I know this is a very strange situation. Um..."

He turned his head and looked into the deep shadows of the trees before taking a deep breath. Mikey followed his gaze; he could sense at least two individuals standing behind the tree line, but he couldn't see them.

"So, here's the idea," Donatello continued as he fidgeted with the end of his shirt sleeve. "Each of you will prepare some sort of presentation, show a skill or a talent that best represents who you are... as a person." He stopped and smiled uncomfortably. "If what you do is impressive enough, then perhaps we can arrange a meeting for you with... Leonardo."

This olive-skinned steward was really awkward, and Mikey found it so incredibly endearing he couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Please feel free to ask for anything and we will help you obtain it," Donatello said, indicating a group of uniformed men and women standing near him. "Any tools or items you might need, just make your request and you will be accommodated. I'll give you maybe half an hour to prepare yourselves and then we can see what happens from there."

Donatello stiffly nodded and sunk back down onto his bench, resuming his intense scribbling on the parchment.

So, they wanted the peasants to perform for their amusement, huh? Alright, he was game. Michelangelo walked over to a waiting servant and asked for his satchel and case from the carriage, then sat back against a tree to wait, watching Donatello work. The young turtle seemed almost skittish, like a rabbit popping up out of its burrow under the midday sun, but Mikey could sense a fierce confidence about him too, just beneath the surface, that he suspected only those who got to know him were ever really allowed to see.

The servant quickly returned with Mikey's things and he decided to move to an empty bench near where the olive-skinned steward sat. Setting his satchel at his feet he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small chip of bone, polished to a smooth shine. Then he set his case down next to him on the bench and sat patiently with a mildly amused expression on his face, idly rubbing the bone chip with his thumb.

After a half hour the remaining guests were all spread out around the clearing. Two others had already been dismissed because they didn't seem to have any talents they were able, or wanting, to show, so the eight of them that were left had plenty of room between them.

Donatello got up and had the guests begin. Four of them had requested parchment and pencils and were swiftly trying to complete drawings that varied in skill. One young woman was particularly good, Mikey noted, but Donatello didn't seem all that impressed. Mikey squinted at him, trying to work out what he might actually be looking for.

A fifth man was in the process of carving a small charm in the shape of the Hamato Family crest out of a solid piece of oak, what he had managed to complete was impressively done, and Donatello nodded his approval with a smile.

Then he turned to Michelangelo and motioned that it was his turn, waiting patiently as Mikey popped the buckles on his case and pulled out a gleaming, lovingly cared for guitar.

Petty theft wasn't Mikey's only profession. It was far more lucrative than any of his other options of course, but less reliable in terms of income. So most days Mikey would set himself up in a tavern or on a street corner and play, with the case open at his feet, hoping anyone that passed by would find it within their hearts to drop a coin into it. He usually made enough to be able to rent a room and buy some food, with maybe a little left over for other activities.

He settled the instrument across his lap and plucked at the strings with the bone chip, listening for the tune and adjusting as needed. Then he began to strum out a melody. It was his favorite, but one he rarely played when he was working, because it was soft and slow, and that type of music didn't seem to get the coins dropping as easily as something more upbeat usually did.

He glanced up at Donatello a few times as he began to play, noticing that he seemed to like the melody, but there wasn't any excitement on his face and he was starting to get impatient as his options with these guests seemed to be quickly drying up. With a disappointed frown he looked like he was about to stop Mikey and move on.

But then Michelangelo began to sing.

The change in the atmosphere was immediate as his voice filled the space around them, rising above all other sounds. It was a clear and resonant and beautiful hymn about found love and the hope of new beginnings. It was one his grandmother had sung to him when he was small.

The breeze seemed to stop moving through the leaves, and even the birds grew quiet, like they were listening too. Donatello was frozen, staring at Mikey with amazed wonder as the ballad filled his ears. A small smile slowly twisting up the corners of his mouth.

Mikey closed his eyes and sang like everything was depending on this one performance, even though he didn't know why, but he felt it deep in his chest. Like something valuable would break if he didn't get this one exactly right.

Partway through the song he looked up to see an unknown turtle had silently appeared at Donatello's shoulder, his skin the color of summer leaves. Donatello had turned and was staring at his face with questioning surprise. Behind them both, Mikey was distantly aware of another unknown presence, solid and serious, as he watched the scene in front of him from just past the tree line.

Mikey usually didn't need to concentrate so hard on the music as he played, but once he looked up into the gentle hazel eyes of the newcomer next to Donatello, his throat caught and he missed a string and he couldn't look away. Almost without thought he found himself singing with even more conviction, a sudden urge to put all his heart and soul into his final notes almost overcoming his ability to form them.

The last haunting words of his song escaped his lips and he let the music fade away, gently laying his hand along the top of his instrument when he was done, still locked in that steady gaze.

Silence settled on the glade, no one moved.

Finally, Leonardo seemed to shake himself and asked in a soft voice. "What's your name?"

Mikey swallowed, quietly answering. "Michelangelo."

"Michelangelo." Leonardo smiled. "It would be my pleasure to invite you to dine with us tonight."

Mikey wasn't sure what was happening, but he felt the weight of it, and somewhere deep within him he knew that he wouldn't say no, even though his instincts usually kept him moving, escaping from dangerous and unknown situations before he even had a chance to think about why he needed too.

This time however, he just tilted his head and answered with a small smile. "Sure. Why not."

Anyway, it was just dinner. It wasn't like he was agreeing to marry the guy.

~*~ tmnt ~*~