I don't own Gundam Wing or Escaflowne. These are my interpretations of their characters. I don't want to make any money. Etc........
Epyon soared onward, pushing the limits of its aerial speed. Inside, Milliardo could see a great rise in the distance that was undoubtedly the Chatal mountains. As he drew closer, Zechs could see great plumes of smoke rising from the slope. "The fighting has already begun!" he thought, clenching his fists and urging his Guymelef on.
"Noin..." Milliardo murmured as he flew over the first ridge and into view of the battlefield. Below him, carnage was everywhere. Even though the combat had only been going on for a short while, the slope was littered with bodies and ruined Guymelefs. Already both sides had taken severe losses and yet as he came to a landing, Zechs saw that the slaughter was still going on.
Walking swiftly past the burning remains of the dead, the heir of the Sanc Kingdom came to the edge of the projection he had landed on. Looking downward, he saw dozens of Guymelefs and soldiers engaged in a battle. With a clang that he could hear even from where he was, sword collided with sword as the warriors struggled against one another. "Their hatred is oblivious to the souls of the dead who even now drift aimlessly among them," Milliardo thought.
Taking a deep breath, Zechs reoriented himself. "I have to find Noin," he reminded himself, "She could be hurt." Milliardo refused to let himself believe that she was dead. She couldn't be dead! She just couldn't be. Not now- not when they were so close to finding true happiness and harmony. Jumping off the ledge, the young heir once again took flight.
Milliardo looked down at the mountain side below him, searching in increasing desperation for his beloved. Sweat trickled down his brow and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Wait, what was that? As he hunted, the male Peacecraft came upon an area thick with fighting. Unable to see individual suits, Zechs flew closer, his eyes desperately scanning for a familiar Guymelef or face. As he came upon the center of the fighting, Milliardo spotted a duel which made his blood run cold. Two suits, locked in mortal combat. As he flew overhead, Zechs saw that Treize and Allen were evenly matched, exchanging blow for blow in a swift series of vicious parries and reposts.
As he came around again, Milliardo realized that he would have to take a side. He would have to choose between his two closest comrades. As he landed, Zechs could hear the two young men yelling in rage and pain. Allen brought his blade down time and time again, each blow being blocked skillfully by the Duke of Baslam. Then Treize pushed the offensive, stabbing and slashing with equal ruthlessly. His first true ally after the Sanc Kingdom's fall was the first to notice him.
"Milliardo!" Treize called out, his voice expressing his joy at seeing his old friend even as he darted backwards to avoid a potentially lethal blow.
"Milliardo?" Allen's voice was full of confusion even as he twisted slightly to face him. Zechs realized, to his surprise, that the other man didn't even recognize him. There was no reason he should; Zechs had never told Allen his real name, nor his real past. And yet, it seemed that he should have known somehow. Somehow, he should have realized. In that moment, Zechs decided.
"Treize!" he yelled out to his friend since his teenage years, "I will take it from here. Go rally your forces and fulfill your dream!"
The message was clear. If Zechs had to choose, he would help the man who had always been there for him, the man who had aided him in the freeing his homeland, the man who had helped him fulfill his dream. However, by saying your forces instead of our forces, it stated that Milliardo Peacecraft could be part of Baslam no longer.
Treize took several steps back, away from Allen who had stopped his barrage, and turned to face him. The visor opened with a hiss and Milliardo could see his friend's noble face. The Duke of Baslam's expression was of calm gratitude and utter respect. "Thank you," Treize responded, and in those two words there seemed to be more meaning than any thousand could ever convey.
Raising his sword, Treize saluted his confidant of many years. Then, pausing for just a moment to lock eyes with Zechs, the mask shut with a snap and Tallgeese took to flight, leaving Allen and Zechs behind. Milliardo felt a shiver run through him and he somehow knew it would be the last time he ever saw his close friend.
Trying to hold on to the fleeting sensation, Milliardo almost didn't hear Allen take a step towards him and ask, "Zechs Merquise? Is that you?"
The heir of the Peacecraft family shifted his eyes from where he had last seen Treize and refocused on the opponent that stood before him. Drawing his sword, Zechs positioned himself into a stance. "Yes it is me, Sir Allen. I am taking Duke Treize's place as your contender."
"So it is true then," Allen's tone was angry now, an emotion that Zechs could not recall ever having heard from the normally composed warrior, "You are Baslam's lapdog after all."
Zechs ignored the accusation, knowing it was pointless to protest or even allow himself to get upset. This fight wasn't about anger, at least not for him. It was about loyalty to an old friend and a lingering belief in a cause. "We never got a chance to finish our match, Allen," he observed, drawing his sword.
"I do not understand, Zechs," Allen demanded, his voice losing only some of its aggression, "What caused you to betray us? Why are you doing this?"
For a moment, Milliardo faltered, hesitating even as he held his blade. "Try to understand, Allen," he finally replied, "It isn't about you. It never was. I have to support Treize. He has done so much for me and I have done so little to repay him. It is my duty to fight for Baslam this last time. I owe him that much."
"Well then," Allen's voice had once again grown more sullen and hostile, "I guess I don't have a choice." The Asturian Knight raised his blade into a combative stance and Epyon followed suit, mirroring his position.
"Good luck," Zechs told his friend, bracing himself for combat. He would not hold back. "I am sorry, Noin," he thought. Then, pushing her out of his mind, he stared attentively at his enemy, focusing all his attention on the battle ahead.
"Same to you," Allen replied grimly, "May the best man win."
For a moment, neither knight moved. Then at the same time, as if they were of one mind, the two Guymelefs surged forward. With a roar, Zechs launched himself at his foe. As the duel began, Zechs knew that he would not hold back. The only way he could finally be at peace with himself was to push himself to the fullest. Only when he let himself go and gave everything to the fight would he know the correct path to take. If he was capable of killing Sir Allen, he would never be able to live his life as a Peacecraft. He would give this fight everything he had to find the truth about himself. Even if it meant that one of them would have to die.
"Those who are weak should not fight!" Wufei yelled, charging forward and cutting down an Asturian Melef. "I will win this battle in the name of my clan and lineage."
Nataku swung its pike close the ground, killing a group of enemy soldiers which were foolish enough to be fighting on foot. He was an unstoppable force, the product of generations of proud and honorable warriors. His father would have been proud, Wufei decided. "No," the Emperor quickly contradicted himself, "Lord Chang had never shown any sign of being satisfied with his only heir's work. Instead, he always insisted that Wufei could do better- and would. Only absolute perfection was acceptable to Emperor Chang." Even as Wufei continued to annihilate his opposition he felt the old sense of inadequacy returning to him.
A burst of flames destroyed a group of Freid soldiers which had been preparing to charge. Little beads of sweat were forming on his face from the extreme heat though he imagined the servicemen were feeling it much worse than he. "I will bring justice to Gaea," Wufei thought as his legs linked together and shot into the air with a hiss of steam being released. He had destroyed all the enemies that had been foolish enough to get close to him and it was time to find new targets to eliminate.
As the Draconian Emperor looked down the ruined mountainside he noticed another suit taking flight not too far from him. Hovering closer, Wufei recognized Tallgeese, the Duke of Baslam's personal suit, abandoning a small cluster of Guymelefs engaged in a duel. "Treize!" the Emperor thought, soaring closer to his rival. To his mild surprise, the duke made no attempts to avoid him. When he was within earshot, Wufei opened his visor and called out to the older man.
"Treize, you coward!" Wufei yelled angrily, "Abandoning a fight in favor of retreat. I thought you were better than that."
"I do not run from a duel, Chang Wufei," Treize replied immediately, his voice so serious that it caused even the Draconian Emperor to falter, "Ever. I was simply following the request of an old friend."
For a moment, Wufei hesitated as the two honorable warriors looked each other in the eye. They were so similar and yet so very different. "It is time to finish our duel once and for all!" the Emperor of the Dragon Clan called out.
Surprising him a second time, Treize nodded and called back, "I agree!" Wufei watched as Tallgeese brought its blade to bear. "I must admit, I have been looking forward to having the chance to fight you a second time, Chang Wufei," Treize stated.
Wufei smiled dangerously, closing his helmet and landing on the ground several yards away from the other suit. "As have I, Treize Khushranada," he informed the duke as Tallgeese hit the ground with a dull crash. Now that the other man was willing to fight, the Draconian felt the grudging respect he had discovered upon their first confrontation returning to him. One thing was for certain, only one of them would survive the duel. Wufei had lost once to the man Treize Khushranada. He would not lose a second time. For the sake of his honor and the glory of his people he would not!
Wufei tightened his grip on his pike, readying himself in a battle stance. A short distance away, Tallgeese also took a ready stance. "It has been an honor to fight alongside you, Chang Wufei," Treize told him, his tone solemn at the prospect of having to fight one he respected as only a true warrior's could be.
"And with you, Treize Khushranada," Wufei replied, bowing slightly. Yes, he was certain now, more so than ever before, that he had finally found a worthy opponent. This was the test he had been waiting for; the ultimate trial to prove once and for all that Chang Wufei was worthy of his people's legacy. He would not hold back.
Wufei began to move forward, Nataku's feet crashing against the ground slowly after first, then faster. As he ran to meet his foe, the Emperor took a deep breath and began to yell a battle cry. His voice was soft at first but then it grew louder, growing in strength as he drew closer to his foe, until it was full roar.
Opposite from him, Treize also let loose a yell as the two massive Guymelefs surged towards each other. The two huge weapons of war met with a crash that seemed to shake the mountainside. Wufei's stab was beaten away and he used his large dragon-fist to batter Treize's blade aside. The fight to prove his worthiness, not just to his lord, but also to himself had commenced.
"Damnit, Trowa," Quatre muttered angrily as he pushed Sandrock forward at faster speed, rushing up to the mountain where the battle was taking place. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, but it couldn't have been that long because the fighting was still going on. "It's not too late," the blonde thought, wishing his hands weren't plugged into the suit's so that he could touch the red imprint on his face.
As he began to get closer to the battlefield, Quatre pulled his two main weapons from his back. Sandrock was armed with a pair of large sickles capable of cutting a Guymelef in half along with the standard Chleama Claws and a shield which was currently attached to its left arm. As Quatre ran up the slope of the mountain he began to pass the first bodies. Though he tried to avert his eyes from the blood remains and flaming remains of once life-like Guymelefs, the blonde felt ill though it was not just from squeamishness. To know that human beings could kill one another so violently... it made him physically ill.
Everywhere there was carnage, tributes to the bloodbath that had happened there less than an hour before. Quatre clenched his teeth in anger at the needless violence that had occurred. Though he knew that he himself would have gladly fought to preserve peace, all the loss of life infuriated him. Then he thought of Trowa, Van, and Hitomi; all those who he knew and loved and he was filled with fear. The conflict had been going on for quite some time now, what if they had been hurt or worse. "Trowa!" Quatre called, searching desperately for his friend. It occurred to him that he ought to check the bodies, but no! Not yet at least. Not while there was still hope that they still be alive and fighting.
As he continued, Quatre could hear the crashes and yells of combat. Tightening his grip on his weapons, the former Emperor moved towards the sounds. As he struggled up a sheer hill, Quatre saw a flash of movement in front of him. Looking up he saw that a Guymelef had flown up into the air and was coming down not too far from him. As he leaned forward to get a better look, the blonde realized that the suit was Deathscythe.
"Duo!" he exclaimed but his words were drowned out by the sound of another heavier Guymelef stumbling down the slope and opening fire with all its weapons. "Trowa!" Quatre yelled, recognizing the unique red and white suit that the other boy had christened Heavyarms in honor of its main weapon.
As the well-armed Guymelef shot out a round of liquid metal bolts and a stream of Chleama Claws, Quatre found himself shocked at the aggression Trowa's battlecry contained. His yell was full or unadulterated rage and a desire to destroy his foes. Its intensity caused the blonde to hesitate for a moment as the two peers continued their bloodthirsty duel.
Duo dodged the projectiles and used his thrusters to push himself forward, slicing at the claws with his scythe. The swift Guymelef closed the distance between the two suits in a handful of seconds and prepared to end the fight in one stroke. Heavyarms was too slow to dodge or counter and all Trowa could do was lift a hand in front of his face to help lesson the damage of the lethal blow. "DIE!" Duo screamed raising his blade high.
"No!" Quatre found himself yelling, rushing forward to stop the impending blow. For a moment time seemed to freeze as he let his wits and instincts take control. Quatre winced, his eyes almost closing as he twisted his head away from the devastating attack which would undoubtedly kill Trowa.
Slowly, the blonde opened his eyes and saw to his immense relief that he was standing next to Heavyarms with his sickle raised above his head. Duo's scythe had connected with his weapon and was still raised precariously above his head. Then with a thud that shook the ground, Deathscythe fell backwards, the blade withdrawn as Duo backed off.
"Quatre!" the other boy snarled, taking several steps backward to reassess the situation.
Heavyarms slowly got to its feet and the blonde Draconian was relieved to see that Trowa was relatively unharmed though both the boys' Guymelefs had taken a fair amount of damage. "Trowa," Quatre exclaimed as the visor of the suit opened and the other boy's face was exposed.
"Quatre," the other teenage exclaimed, "Please return to the castle and allow me to finish this! There is no reason to put yourself in any danger on my account. I can finish Deathscythe all by myself."
"Oh is that so?" Duo jeered, opening his mask as well to reveal a scornful expression on his face, "Why don't we find out for certain? Or are you going to let Quatre fight your battles?"
"Damn you, Duo!" Trowa snarled, raising Heavyarms' main weapon to point in the other boy's general direction, "Now you're dead!"
As the two former comrades had taunted each other, Quatre had become more and more alarmed until finally he could not take it any more. "Stop it!" the normally quiet and passive young man screamed loudly, "Stop fighting each other!" His outburst caused both peers to stop their slander and stare in surprise at the blonde's angry face. "Don't you see that you two aren't enemies? Why are you still fighting?"
"Quatre," Trowa spoke submissively, "he is one of Lord Heero's minions. He would kill us all if he had the chance. That is why I must defeat him!"
"No!" the blonde shook his head violently, his words startling the other boy a second time, "I am sorry, Trowa, but you are wrong! Duo is only fighting for what he thinks is right. He deserves a chance just like you and I do! Lord Van had a chance to kill us when he found out about Lord Heero's plans but he didn't! Why? Because he believed in the good in mankind's hearts! Duo is a good person, one I respect and consider to be a friend. I will not let you kill him!"
"So you are taking his side then!" Trowa spoke bitterly. Everyone was shocked when Quatre dropped his sickle and slapped Trowa in the face but perhaps he was the most shocked of all. "Quatre..." Trowa murmured, straightening Heavyarms to look the other boy in the eye.
"No, Trowa," the blonde felt a moment of clarity and, even in the middle of the sea of passion around them, he felt calm, "That isn't what I meant at all. It is wrong to kill merely because of a disagreement without trying to settle things peaceful first. Especially when it comes to friends and comrades."
Quatre turned to face Deathscythe and called out to Duo, who had been silently listening the entire time, "Please, Duo! Stop fighting us and listen to my words!"
"Well I can't promise you anything," the other boy called back in a more nonchalant tone, though Quatre could tell there was a degree of agitation in his voice, "but I am willing to at least hear what you have to say! For old time's sake."
"Thank you," Quatre signed in relief though he knew he still had to convince Duo that Heero's actions were wrong. Taking a deep breath, the earnest Draconian proceeded to tell the other boy all about his experiences. He recalled Van's kindness and his willingness to hear Quatre's message. He explained why he and Trowa had defected in the first place, including Van and Miss Relena's reasons for opposing Heero. He finished by telling him that he had no wish to continue their fighting and hoped for a quick resolve to the fighting. Through his entire explanation Duo remained placid, nodding his head at certain points. Finally, Quatre asked, "So do you see why Heero's actions are wrong?"
Duo nodded slowly, "Yes. I agree with you."
"Then you will be willing to stop fighting?" Quatre exclaimed hopefully.
Duo's reply both shocked and confused him, "I am sorry Quatre, I truly am, but I am afraid I can't do that."
"What?" Trowa blurted out, "How can you say that when you have already admitted that you think we are in the right?"
Duo replied quietly, his eyes downcast, "I understand your position Quatre, I really do. However, I have to continue to support Heero, more now than ever before. I understand that what Heero is doing is wrong but I also know that his motives are pure. Don't you see? If I continue to help him fulfill his dreams than I can change him. I can help him learn how to rule peacefully and install some of the morals that you yourselves have just spoken of. If I can just continue to give him my complete loyalty and trust then he will eventually confide in me and treat me as an equal. I can make him a fair and noble ruler! I know I can change him, I just know it!"
As Duo spoke, his voice became more and more desperate until it sounded like a plea. Quatre found himself moved by the other boy's sentiments. He opened his mouth and was about to speak when Trowa cut him off. "You're wrong," the other boy interjected quietly.
Duo jerked backwards as if he had been hit and Quatre spun on his ally. "Trowa!" he exclaimed angrily, "How can you say such cruel things?"
"It is true," Trowa refused to back down as he faced his friend, "You know that as well as I do. Heero is too set in his ways to listen to anybody. Ever since he was born he has been told that fate has selected him as ruler of Gaea. He is too close to his dream to falter now. Besides, years of abuse and constant pressure has made him an aggressive and dangerous person. It is inevitable that he would release this negative energy on his own people. That is why he would not make a good king. It is also why he would never listen to anyone who told him otherwise, even his closest allies. I am sorry, Duo, I truly am. However noble your dream is, it is just that, a dream. You cannot go on fighting for a cause you do not truly believe in simply because you retain a sense of false hope. I know that deep in your heart you too must recognize the truth. It is time to let go. The best thing you can do for Heero now is to face him. It is the only way he will ever be able to move on to the road of recovery."
Having finished his speech, Trowa lapsed into a sullen silence. Quatre looked over at Duo's troubled face. The other boy was also frozen, his eyes wide. "Duo..." Quatre murmured, his heart aching in sympathy for his friend. Duo had practically worshipped Heero from the moment the two had met. He had always been trying to earn the other boy's trust and friendship. However, his efforts had always been in vain and except for very subtle things, such as Heero not being upset when Duo referred to him without title. Now he would have to go against the one person he respected the most. Or maybe Duo would maintain his convictions and they would have no choice but to fight him. Quatre bit his lip and was about to address the other boy when Duo straightened.
"Very well," he spoke, his voice shaking just slightly. Then, taking a deep breath, he smiled and his tone once again was full of its usual confidence. "I will help Heero by stopping him. I apologize for any harm I may have caused you."
"Don't worry about it," Quatre excused him, but then realized that Duo was looking very purposefully at Trowa. For a moment, the blonde wondered whether the serious boy would reject the other's apology.
"It is all right," Trowa said finally, his tone still somber, "I think... I think I finally understand you, Duo Maxwell."
Quatre glanced between the two boys as their gazes locked. Seeing their expressions he somehow knew that he had only fathomed a tiny bit of what had passed between the two warriors in those handful of words.
"All right then!" he exclaimed, breaking the mysterious silence which was only broken by the occasional clang from a distant fray still going on, "It is agreed. We will stop Heero at all costs."
"Let's split up to look for him!" Duo exclaimed, "It will be quicker that way."
"Let's go!" Quatre proclaimed and immediately Deathscythe took to flight. In a matter of moments Duo was gone.
"Trowa," Quatre exclaimed, turning to the other boy anxiously, remembering the angry words that had passed between them and the blow he had delivered to his friend.
"Don't worry about it," Trowa looked at him and to Quatre' joy, smiled slightly, "It's forgotten. Let's just stop this war once and far all, all right?"
"Okay!" the blonde exclaimed determinedly as he kicked off, linking Sandrock's legs together to allow flight. His Guymelef was heavier than an Alseides or Deathscythe and as a result was only capable of short bursts of flight. However, this was once situation where it was definitely worth it.
As Sandrock took to the air, Quatre prayed that they would find Heero quickly. If they didn't, more people would lose their lives as a result of a foolish war. "Van," the blonde Draconian thought, "I hope that you are all right. For the sake of all our futures..."
Epyon soared onward, pushing the limits of its aerial speed. Inside, Milliardo could see a great rise in the distance that was undoubtedly the Chatal mountains. As he drew closer, Zechs could see great plumes of smoke rising from the slope. "The fighting has already begun!" he thought, clenching his fists and urging his Guymelef on.
"Noin..." Milliardo murmured as he flew over the first ridge and into view of the battlefield. Below him, carnage was everywhere. Even though the combat had only been going on for a short while, the slope was littered with bodies and ruined Guymelefs. Already both sides had taken severe losses and yet as he came to a landing, Zechs saw that the slaughter was still going on.
Walking swiftly past the burning remains of the dead, the heir of the Sanc Kingdom came to the edge of the projection he had landed on. Looking downward, he saw dozens of Guymelefs and soldiers engaged in a battle. With a clang that he could hear even from where he was, sword collided with sword as the warriors struggled against one another. "Their hatred is oblivious to the souls of the dead who even now drift aimlessly among them," Milliardo thought.
Taking a deep breath, Zechs reoriented himself. "I have to find Noin," he reminded himself, "She could be hurt." Milliardo refused to let himself believe that she was dead. She couldn't be dead! She just couldn't be. Not now- not when they were so close to finding true happiness and harmony. Jumping off the ledge, the young heir once again took flight.
Milliardo looked down at the mountain side below him, searching in increasing desperation for his beloved. Sweat trickled down his brow and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Wait, what was that? As he hunted, the male Peacecraft came upon an area thick with fighting. Unable to see individual suits, Zechs flew closer, his eyes desperately scanning for a familiar Guymelef or face. As he came upon the center of the fighting, Milliardo spotted a duel which made his blood run cold. Two suits, locked in mortal combat. As he flew overhead, Zechs saw that Treize and Allen were evenly matched, exchanging blow for blow in a swift series of vicious parries and reposts.
As he came around again, Milliardo realized that he would have to take a side. He would have to choose between his two closest comrades. As he landed, Zechs could hear the two young men yelling in rage and pain. Allen brought his blade down time and time again, each blow being blocked skillfully by the Duke of Baslam. Then Treize pushed the offensive, stabbing and slashing with equal ruthlessly. His first true ally after the Sanc Kingdom's fall was the first to notice him.
"Milliardo!" Treize called out, his voice expressing his joy at seeing his old friend even as he darted backwards to avoid a potentially lethal blow.
"Milliardo?" Allen's voice was full of confusion even as he twisted slightly to face him. Zechs realized, to his surprise, that the other man didn't even recognize him. There was no reason he should; Zechs had never told Allen his real name, nor his real past. And yet, it seemed that he should have known somehow. Somehow, he should have realized. In that moment, Zechs decided.
"Treize!" he yelled out to his friend since his teenage years, "I will take it from here. Go rally your forces and fulfill your dream!"
The message was clear. If Zechs had to choose, he would help the man who had always been there for him, the man who had aided him in the freeing his homeland, the man who had helped him fulfill his dream. However, by saying your forces instead of our forces, it stated that Milliardo Peacecraft could be part of Baslam no longer.
Treize took several steps back, away from Allen who had stopped his barrage, and turned to face him. The visor opened with a hiss and Milliardo could see his friend's noble face. The Duke of Baslam's expression was of calm gratitude and utter respect. "Thank you," Treize responded, and in those two words there seemed to be more meaning than any thousand could ever convey.
Raising his sword, Treize saluted his confidant of many years. Then, pausing for just a moment to lock eyes with Zechs, the mask shut with a snap and Tallgeese took to flight, leaving Allen and Zechs behind. Milliardo felt a shiver run through him and he somehow knew it would be the last time he ever saw his close friend.
Trying to hold on to the fleeting sensation, Milliardo almost didn't hear Allen take a step towards him and ask, "Zechs Merquise? Is that you?"
The heir of the Peacecraft family shifted his eyes from where he had last seen Treize and refocused on the opponent that stood before him. Drawing his sword, Zechs positioned himself into a stance. "Yes it is me, Sir Allen. I am taking Duke Treize's place as your contender."
"So it is true then," Allen's tone was angry now, an emotion that Zechs could not recall ever having heard from the normally composed warrior, "You are Baslam's lapdog after all."
Zechs ignored the accusation, knowing it was pointless to protest or even allow himself to get upset. This fight wasn't about anger, at least not for him. It was about loyalty to an old friend and a lingering belief in a cause. "We never got a chance to finish our match, Allen," he observed, drawing his sword.
"I do not understand, Zechs," Allen demanded, his voice losing only some of its aggression, "What caused you to betray us? Why are you doing this?"
For a moment, Milliardo faltered, hesitating even as he held his blade. "Try to understand, Allen," he finally replied, "It isn't about you. It never was. I have to support Treize. He has done so much for me and I have done so little to repay him. It is my duty to fight for Baslam this last time. I owe him that much."
"Well then," Allen's voice had once again grown more sullen and hostile, "I guess I don't have a choice." The Asturian Knight raised his blade into a combative stance and Epyon followed suit, mirroring his position.
"Good luck," Zechs told his friend, bracing himself for combat. He would not hold back. "I am sorry, Noin," he thought. Then, pushing her out of his mind, he stared attentively at his enemy, focusing all his attention on the battle ahead.
"Same to you," Allen replied grimly, "May the best man win."
For a moment, neither knight moved. Then at the same time, as if they were of one mind, the two Guymelefs surged forward. With a roar, Zechs launched himself at his foe. As the duel began, Zechs knew that he would not hold back. The only way he could finally be at peace with himself was to push himself to the fullest. Only when he let himself go and gave everything to the fight would he know the correct path to take. If he was capable of killing Sir Allen, he would never be able to live his life as a Peacecraft. He would give this fight everything he had to find the truth about himself. Even if it meant that one of them would have to die.
"Those who are weak should not fight!" Wufei yelled, charging forward and cutting down an Asturian Melef. "I will win this battle in the name of my clan and lineage."
Nataku swung its pike close the ground, killing a group of enemy soldiers which were foolish enough to be fighting on foot. He was an unstoppable force, the product of generations of proud and honorable warriors. His father would have been proud, Wufei decided. "No," the Emperor quickly contradicted himself, "Lord Chang had never shown any sign of being satisfied with his only heir's work. Instead, he always insisted that Wufei could do better- and would. Only absolute perfection was acceptable to Emperor Chang." Even as Wufei continued to annihilate his opposition he felt the old sense of inadequacy returning to him.
A burst of flames destroyed a group of Freid soldiers which had been preparing to charge. Little beads of sweat were forming on his face from the extreme heat though he imagined the servicemen were feeling it much worse than he. "I will bring justice to Gaea," Wufei thought as his legs linked together and shot into the air with a hiss of steam being released. He had destroyed all the enemies that had been foolish enough to get close to him and it was time to find new targets to eliminate.
As the Draconian Emperor looked down the ruined mountainside he noticed another suit taking flight not too far from him. Hovering closer, Wufei recognized Tallgeese, the Duke of Baslam's personal suit, abandoning a small cluster of Guymelefs engaged in a duel. "Treize!" the Emperor thought, soaring closer to his rival. To his mild surprise, the duke made no attempts to avoid him. When he was within earshot, Wufei opened his visor and called out to the older man.
"Treize, you coward!" Wufei yelled angrily, "Abandoning a fight in favor of retreat. I thought you were better than that."
"I do not run from a duel, Chang Wufei," Treize replied immediately, his voice so serious that it caused even the Draconian Emperor to falter, "Ever. I was simply following the request of an old friend."
For a moment, Wufei hesitated as the two honorable warriors looked each other in the eye. They were so similar and yet so very different. "It is time to finish our duel once and for all!" the Emperor of the Dragon Clan called out.
Surprising him a second time, Treize nodded and called back, "I agree!" Wufei watched as Tallgeese brought its blade to bear. "I must admit, I have been looking forward to having the chance to fight you a second time, Chang Wufei," Treize stated.
Wufei smiled dangerously, closing his helmet and landing on the ground several yards away from the other suit. "As have I, Treize Khushranada," he informed the duke as Tallgeese hit the ground with a dull crash. Now that the other man was willing to fight, the Draconian felt the grudging respect he had discovered upon their first confrontation returning to him. One thing was for certain, only one of them would survive the duel. Wufei had lost once to the man Treize Khushranada. He would not lose a second time. For the sake of his honor and the glory of his people he would not!
Wufei tightened his grip on his pike, readying himself in a battle stance. A short distance away, Tallgeese also took a ready stance. "It has been an honor to fight alongside you, Chang Wufei," Treize told him, his tone solemn at the prospect of having to fight one he respected as only a true warrior's could be.
"And with you, Treize Khushranada," Wufei replied, bowing slightly. Yes, he was certain now, more so than ever before, that he had finally found a worthy opponent. This was the test he had been waiting for; the ultimate trial to prove once and for all that Chang Wufei was worthy of his people's legacy. He would not hold back.
Wufei began to move forward, Nataku's feet crashing against the ground slowly after first, then faster. As he ran to meet his foe, the Emperor took a deep breath and began to yell a battle cry. His voice was soft at first but then it grew louder, growing in strength as he drew closer to his foe, until it was full roar.
Opposite from him, Treize also let loose a yell as the two massive Guymelefs surged towards each other. The two huge weapons of war met with a crash that seemed to shake the mountainside. Wufei's stab was beaten away and he used his large dragon-fist to batter Treize's blade aside. The fight to prove his worthiness, not just to his lord, but also to himself had commenced.
"Damnit, Trowa," Quatre muttered angrily as he pushed Sandrock forward at faster speed, rushing up to the mountain where the battle was taking place. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, but it couldn't have been that long because the fighting was still going on. "It's not too late," the blonde thought, wishing his hands weren't plugged into the suit's so that he could touch the red imprint on his face.
As he began to get closer to the battlefield, Quatre pulled his two main weapons from his back. Sandrock was armed with a pair of large sickles capable of cutting a Guymelef in half along with the standard Chleama Claws and a shield which was currently attached to its left arm. As Quatre ran up the slope of the mountain he began to pass the first bodies. Though he tried to avert his eyes from the blood remains and flaming remains of once life-like Guymelefs, the blonde felt ill though it was not just from squeamishness. To know that human beings could kill one another so violently... it made him physically ill.
Everywhere there was carnage, tributes to the bloodbath that had happened there less than an hour before. Quatre clenched his teeth in anger at the needless violence that had occurred. Though he knew that he himself would have gladly fought to preserve peace, all the loss of life infuriated him. Then he thought of Trowa, Van, and Hitomi; all those who he knew and loved and he was filled with fear. The conflict had been going on for quite some time now, what if they had been hurt or worse. "Trowa!" Quatre called, searching desperately for his friend. It occurred to him that he ought to check the bodies, but no! Not yet at least. Not while there was still hope that they still be alive and fighting.
As he continued, Quatre could hear the crashes and yells of combat. Tightening his grip on his weapons, the former Emperor moved towards the sounds. As he struggled up a sheer hill, Quatre saw a flash of movement in front of him. Looking up he saw that a Guymelef had flown up into the air and was coming down not too far from him. As he leaned forward to get a better look, the blonde realized that the suit was Deathscythe.
"Duo!" he exclaimed but his words were drowned out by the sound of another heavier Guymelef stumbling down the slope and opening fire with all its weapons. "Trowa!" Quatre yelled, recognizing the unique red and white suit that the other boy had christened Heavyarms in honor of its main weapon.
As the well-armed Guymelef shot out a round of liquid metal bolts and a stream of Chleama Claws, Quatre found himself shocked at the aggression Trowa's battlecry contained. His yell was full or unadulterated rage and a desire to destroy his foes. Its intensity caused the blonde to hesitate for a moment as the two peers continued their bloodthirsty duel.
Duo dodged the projectiles and used his thrusters to push himself forward, slicing at the claws with his scythe. The swift Guymelef closed the distance between the two suits in a handful of seconds and prepared to end the fight in one stroke. Heavyarms was too slow to dodge or counter and all Trowa could do was lift a hand in front of his face to help lesson the damage of the lethal blow. "DIE!" Duo screamed raising his blade high.
"No!" Quatre found himself yelling, rushing forward to stop the impending blow. For a moment time seemed to freeze as he let his wits and instincts take control. Quatre winced, his eyes almost closing as he twisted his head away from the devastating attack which would undoubtedly kill Trowa.
Slowly, the blonde opened his eyes and saw to his immense relief that he was standing next to Heavyarms with his sickle raised above his head. Duo's scythe had connected with his weapon and was still raised precariously above his head. Then with a thud that shook the ground, Deathscythe fell backwards, the blade withdrawn as Duo backed off.
"Quatre!" the other boy snarled, taking several steps backward to reassess the situation.
Heavyarms slowly got to its feet and the blonde Draconian was relieved to see that Trowa was relatively unharmed though both the boys' Guymelefs had taken a fair amount of damage. "Trowa," Quatre exclaimed as the visor of the suit opened and the other boy's face was exposed.
"Quatre," the other teenage exclaimed, "Please return to the castle and allow me to finish this! There is no reason to put yourself in any danger on my account. I can finish Deathscythe all by myself."
"Oh is that so?" Duo jeered, opening his mask as well to reveal a scornful expression on his face, "Why don't we find out for certain? Or are you going to let Quatre fight your battles?"
"Damn you, Duo!" Trowa snarled, raising Heavyarms' main weapon to point in the other boy's general direction, "Now you're dead!"
As the two former comrades had taunted each other, Quatre had become more and more alarmed until finally he could not take it any more. "Stop it!" the normally quiet and passive young man screamed loudly, "Stop fighting each other!" His outburst caused both peers to stop their slander and stare in surprise at the blonde's angry face. "Don't you see that you two aren't enemies? Why are you still fighting?"
"Quatre," Trowa spoke submissively, "he is one of Lord Heero's minions. He would kill us all if he had the chance. That is why I must defeat him!"
"No!" the blonde shook his head violently, his words startling the other boy a second time, "I am sorry, Trowa, but you are wrong! Duo is only fighting for what he thinks is right. He deserves a chance just like you and I do! Lord Van had a chance to kill us when he found out about Lord Heero's plans but he didn't! Why? Because he believed in the good in mankind's hearts! Duo is a good person, one I respect and consider to be a friend. I will not let you kill him!"
"So you are taking his side then!" Trowa spoke bitterly. Everyone was shocked when Quatre dropped his sickle and slapped Trowa in the face but perhaps he was the most shocked of all. "Quatre..." Trowa murmured, straightening Heavyarms to look the other boy in the eye.
"No, Trowa," the blonde felt a moment of clarity and, even in the middle of the sea of passion around them, he felt calm, "That isn't what I meant at all. It is wrong to kill merely because of a disagreement without trying to settle things peaceful first. Especially when it comes to friends and comrades."
Quatre turned to face Deathscythe and called out to Duo, who had been silently listening the entire time, "Please, Duo! Stop fighting us and listen to my words!"
"Well I can't promise you anything," the other boy called back in a more nonchalant tone, though Quatre could tell there was a degree of agitation in his voice, "but I am willing to at least hear what you have to say! For old time's sake."
"Thank you," Quatre signed in relief though he knew he still had to convince Duo that Heero's actions were wrong. Taking a deep breath, the earnest Draconian proceeded to tell the other boy all about his experiences. He recalled Van's kindness and his willingness to hear Quatre's message. He explained why he and Trowa had defected in the first place, including Van and Miss Relena's reasons for opposing Heero. He finished by telling him that he had no wish to continue their fighting and hoped for a quick resolve to the fighting. Through his entire explanation Duo remained placid, nodding his head at certain points. Finally, Quatre asked, "So do you see why Heero's actions are wrong?"
Duo nodded slowly, "Yes. I agree with you."
"Then you will be willing to stop fighting?" Quatre exclaimed hopefully.
Duo's reply both shocked and confused him, "I am sorry Quatre, I truly am, but I am afraid I can't do that."
"What?" Trowa blurted out, "How can you say that when you have already admitted that you think we are in the right?"
Duo replied quietly, his eyes downcast, "I understand your position Quatre, I really do. However, I have to continue to support Heero, more now than ever before. I understand that what Heero is doing is wrong but I also know that his motives are pure. Don't you see? If I continue to help him fulfill his dreams than I can change him. I can help him learn how to rule peacefully and install some of the morals that you yourselves have just spoken of. If I can just continue to give him my complete loyalty and trust then he will eventually confide in me and treat me as an equal. I can make him a fair and noble ruler! I know I can change him, I just know it!"
As Duo spoke, his voice became more and more desperate until it sounded like a plea. Quatre found himself moved by the other boy's sentiments. He opened his mouth and was about to speak when Trowa cut him off. "You're wrong," the other boy interjected quietly.
Duo jerked backwards as if he had been hit and Quatre spun on his ally. "Trowa!" he exclaimed angrily, "How can you say such cruel things?"
"It is true," Trowa refused to back down as he faced his friend, "You know that as well as I do. Heero is too set in his ways to listen to anybody. Ever since he was born he has been told that fate has selected him as ruler of Gaea. He is too close to his dream to falter now. Besides, years of abuse and constant pressure has made him an aggressive and dangerous person. It is inevitable that he would release this negative energy on his own people. That is why he would not make a good king. It is also why he would never listen to anyone who told him otherwise, even his closest allies. I am sorry, Duo, I truly am. However noble your dream is, it is just that, a dream. You cannot go on fighting for a cause you do not truly believe in simply because you retain a sense of false hope. I know that deep in your heart you too must recognize the truth. It is time to let go. The best thing you can do for Heero now is to face him. It is the only way he will ever be able to move on to the road of recovery."
Having finished his speech, Trowa lapsed into a sullen silence. Quatre looked over at Duo's troubled face. The other boy was also frozen, his eyes wide. "Duo..." Quatre murmured, his heart aching in sympathy for his friend. Duo had practically worshipped Heero from the moment the two had met. He had always been trying to earn the other boy's trust and friendship. However, his efforts had always been in vain and except for very subtle things, such as Heero not being upset when Duo referred to him without title. Now he would have to go against the one person he respected the most. Or maybe Duo would maintain his convictions and they would have no choice but to fight him. Quatre bit his lip and was about to address the other boy when Duo straightened.
"Very well," he spoke, his voice shaking just slightly. Then, taking a deep breath, he smiled and his tone once again was full of its usual confidence. "I will help Heero by stopping him. I apologize for any harm I may have caused you."
"Don't worry about it," Quatre excused him, but then realized that Duo was looking very purposefully at Trowa. For a moment, the blonde wondered whether the serious boy would reject the other's apology.
"It is all right," Trowa said finally, his tone still somber, "I think... I think I finally understand you, Duo Maxwell."
Quatre glanced between the two boys as their gazes locked. Seeing their expressions he somehow knew that he had only fathomed a tiny bit of what had passed between the two warriors in those handful of words.
"All right then!" he exclaimed, breaking the mysterious silence which was only broken by the occasional clang from a distant fray still going on, "It is agreed. We will stop Heero at all costs."
"Let's split up to look for him!" Duo exclaimed, "It will be quicker that way."
"Let's go!" Quatre proclaimed and immediately Deathscythe took to flight. In a matter of moments Duo was gone.
"Trowa," Quatre exclaimed, turning to the other boy anxiously, remembering the angry words that had passed between them and the blow he had delivered to his friend.
"Don't worry about it," Trowa looked at him and to Quatre' joy, smiled slightly, "It's forgotten. Let's just stop this war once and far all, all right?"
"Okay!" the blonde exclaimed determinedly as he kicked off, linking Sandrock's legs together to allow flight. His Guymelef was heavier than an Alseides or Deathscythe and as a result was only capable of short bursts of flight. However, this was once situation where it was definitely worth it.
As Sandrock took to the air, Quatre prayed that they would find Heero quickly. If they didn't, more people would lose their lives as a result of a foolish war. "Van," the blonde Draconian thought, "I hope that you are all right. For the sake of all our futures..."