Email: swythangel@hotmail.com
Title: Apeiron
Rating: PG (for shounen ai content)
Spoilers: None on Gundam Wing
Warnings: Strong Language, Slash, Fantasy AU
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai and a passel of other people I never bothered to find out about. It just depresses me to see all those bishies as someone else's property. Stronger than Time is owned by Patricia Wrede.
Okay first part out. Thanks for the nice reviews! ^^ Er the language is a bit muddled since I put accents on the villagers. Hope you gyys don't get confused.
Apeiron
Part 1
::…Or will you sleep until
the end
No choice on what life
you'd want to lead?
Full of innocence and
bright dreams
That will never be fulfilled.::
The last notes of the song hung in the stillness, leaving a heavy air of sadness in the room. Not one dry eye was left inside the tavern.
The song was one that had oft been repeated thereabouts, especially since The Prancing Unicorn was the nearest tavern within the vicinity of the cursed Castle. It was normal to hear songs that told of the Prince who had been cursed to sleep for eternity.
But it had never brought tears to the taverngoers' eyes before.
Somehow the song took on a life of its own this night, coming alive with each note that Trowa sang. And the villagers not only heard but *felt* how it must have been for such a young boy to be a victim of such a fell curse.
"Bouya!" One of the tavern's patrons shouted at Trowa as he threw a silver into Trowa's hat, "Oi have been comin 'ere for more years than I can count --"
"You'se got that roight, Branbur, you'se an institution already youself." Someone interjected. Racuous laughter followed this pronouncement.
"Shut up, stupid and let's Oi finish." The fellow known as Branbur said and turned back to Trowa. "As Oi was sayin' 'afore these lowlifes interrupted me, Oi've heard the song more times that Oi have wanted but this is the first time Oi've ever been moved. You've got talent, boy."
Various shouts of assent followed.
"Thank you." Trowa said quietly as he picked up the various coppers scattered near his feet.
"Shouldn't be a-wasting it on backwater villages such as these." Branbur said coming closer as he watched the strange boy pack his instrument into its case with loving care. "You should be in a noble's court or sumthin'. Oi may not know much but yo' talent would be approaching Master Bard class, that Oi knows. What's the likes of you a-doing here?"
Trowa stopped in what he was doing and turned, surprise in emerald eyes. "How do you know that?"
Branbur smirked. "Oi used to be a mercenary for hire. Oi've seen your kind afore. And if you don't mind me a-saying so, that." He pointed to the golden insignia that barely peeked out of the velvet cloth wrapped around Trowa's flute. "is a dead give-away,"
Trowa immediately covered the insignia and closed his instrument case, a wary look entering his eyes as he looked at Branbur.
"Don't be a-frightened, boy. Oi'se not going to tell them. You've obviously got a reason ta conceal what you are an Oi respects that. Let me buy you a mug of ale."
Trowa nodded and followed the large old man to the table the ex-soldier had been occupying before he had walked over to talk to Trowa and sat down facing the man.
"Oi, Rosette! Ale for me an my friend here." Branbur bellowed out and almost immediately the barmaid plunked down two tankards in front of them.
"How come you're never this attentive when Oi'se alone?" Branbur frowned at the buxom barmaid who was grinning saucily at Trowa, almost pushing her breasts into his face.
"You come in clean shaven and as pretty as this here gentleman does, Branbur and Oi would." Rosette said, smothering Trowa with her ample bosom.
Branbur laughed heartily. "Get off the poor kid, Rosette, he obviously dun want yur attention."
Trowa sighed in relief as the barmaid got off him and drank deeply from the tankard.
"If Oi asked you what it is you came here for, would you tell me?" The question came quickly.
/No use hiding it./
"To search for truth."
"Foinding truth in such a backwater place? You won't foind it here Oi assure you."
"I was hoping *he* would know." Emerald green eyes turned to look out the window, out where the castle stood in the waning light of sunset.
"Another one…" Branbur said, shaking his head at Trowa. All of a sudden he grabbed Trowa's hand and looked him straight in the eye. "Didna your Bard studies teach you about the men who've died there? Those briars are full of their bones. Didna go adding yours to the collection."
"Will you tell me what happened to them? Tell me something about the castle."
Even before Trowa finished speaking, Branbur shook his head. "Ain't no man in this village who will, boy. Leave the cursed place to its own."
"I am sorry but I can't oblige you." /I need this./
"Then all Oi can say is good luck and may the Gods rest your soul."
***
Branbur's words proved true. All of the men in the tavern all flinched back from Trowa as if he was crazy and nary a single one offered any information. He sighed as he went out of the boisterous tavern and into the quiet cold night, towards his rented rooms.
Trowa was preoccupied with his own thoughts as he transversed the quiet streets of Raberba Village, too preoccupied that he didn't notice a shadow following him until it was almost upon him. Unfortunately for whoever it was behind him, Trowa was not unused to defending himself.
He flipped backwards into the air, landing just behind the stranger in the shadows with a knife in his hand.
"Identify yourself." Trowa told the stranger. And the cloaked form turned slowly to face him, revealing cerulean eyes set in a face as youthful as Trowa's own.
"I am a traveler, much like you are, Bard." The man, no boy, for he was as old as Trowa was, said softly, in a voice so tired that it was almost a bone deep ache. And Trowa doubted his eyes, surely a voice that could contain such deep weariness could not belong to someone so young.
But it did. As the stranger stepped into the lighted part of the street, Trowa saw a young man shorter than he was with the blue eyes that he had noticed before and unruly chestnut hair. His clothes were of an expensive cut if slightly worn and of ancient make.
"What do you want from me?" Trowa asked as he twirled the knife through his fingers with an ease that belied his expertise an unspoken warning hung in the air…'Make the wrong move and I will not miss.'
A warning that didn't perturb the stranger in the least as he stood at his ease in front of Trowa.
"You haven't had much luck with the villagers when you asked about the castle have you?" The stranger asked, instead of answering Trowa's question. "I can help you. I know things about it," Prussian eyes trailed to the castle and Trowa swore he could see a sad longing look in them, "that these people can only guess at. I have…studied the curse."
"Are you a scholar then?" Trowa asked, not lowering his knife, mistrusting the faraway look in the other's eyes.
The other shivered, and shook himself at his words, seemingly startled by his voice as he stared at the castle. He transferred his gaze to Trowa though his eyes still seemed to stare at a place far removed from the present. "W..What? I am no scholar."
"Then what are you?"
The stranger looked away. "Nothing, now. Once I was a prince."
Ah, a prince. It explained the weariness to Trowa. Those born to rule shouldered the burden of responsibility and lay heavy on the youth. But what had happened to make his family disown him?
"And you have information on the castle you want to share?"
"Yes but on one condition."
"What may that be?"
"Take me with you."
TBC ^__~ Comments onegai?
Well, Heero's here! Let's all wave that 1x4 flag together! ^______^