Title: Relena 2/8 Author: Canisa Pairng: leading to 1+2/2+1 Archive: none for now.. but if you want it, let me know and you will receive ^_^ Warning: AU (No GUNDAM!!!!), shounen ai, ANTI-RELENA!!! Despite what the title may imply..

Quick Summary

Sanc Kingdom's Queen, Relena, had been assassinated. The King's advisor decided to have a fighting match in order to find a perfect personal guard for King Heero Yuy to prevent the tragedy from happening again.

A thief, discovering that his savior was indeed the king himself, decided to enter the match to repay his debt..

NOTE: this part was posted on 1x2ML a while ago. I have modified and add significantly.. ^_^ now that I have a better idea of what direction I want to head in..

Chapter 2 -- The Jester --

10 miles away from San Kingdom, the world looked as if it was dead. The sun was bright, heating up the sands mercilessly from above. There was no single living creature in sight. No vegetations. No animals. It was just the sand and the golden sun that dominated the sky.

Just years ago, the scene was quite different from now. The land was greener and the river was filled with refreshing water. Courageous Hunters used to venture out here to look for dragons for the prestige of killing one. Adventurous diggers would camp out here to discover gold.

Things had changed. Now the land was worthless as it contained nothing but the desert canyon.

And then, as if it was the last cry from the dying land, an eagle suddenly appeared. It soared across the desert canyon from a distant place. It did not stopped to lament the land in the process of destruction. Instead, it headed toward Sanc Kingdom.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I could not contain my laughter any longer.

Tomorrow is going to be the most laughable fighting match I will ever see. Just take a look at some of the contestants gathered in Square and you will be laughing on the ground like there is no tomorrow. You have the freaking farmer with his pitchfork and the woodmaker with his saw. And then, of course, it is not until I see a pair of jesters joggling seven rainbow colored sandbags in their baggy silly suits, do I finally feel the lower part of my jaw hit the ground.

"So really. Where is your weapon, Jesters?" I just could not help it. I had to ask because here I am scratching my head off and still cannot understand how in the fucking world can ANYONE use sandbags as weapons?

"This is our weapon." The jester with a funky blue hat said with a smile.

"Weapon it is ours." The other jester with an equally funky red hat echoed.

"Right." I snap my fingers, slightly annoyed by the repeat. "And how are you supposed to attack with those sandbags now?"

"We use them to distract people." The blue one replied.

At the same time, the red one suddenly flipped around and stood with his hands, while his rainbow colored sandbags magically landed on his shoes. "To distract people we use them."

Double talk again. I feel a nerve popping against my temple. "So you can run away?"

"Joggling 7 balls is impressive to watch." The jester with blue hat flipped his body over and doubled what the red clown did.

"Impressive to watch 7 balls joggled." The red one flipped back, standing normally on his feet.

"So the opponent drops his weapon."

"Weapon the opponent drops."

"Then we win the match."

"Match we..."

They finally severed the popping nerve with their annoying repeat. I mean, I admit I talk a lot. But have every sentence repeated is just not my taste.

"I think I got the idea." I smiled maliciously, my once big innocent violet eyes were now narrowed, akin to a lion in its hunting mode.

Now, if are you wondering why the jester with red hat did not complete his sentence, well, silly you. Can you talk when someone lift you up from the ground by your throat? No? Exactly.

"So what number are you?" I asked casually. Nice and polite just as if I was just asking for direction to some town or something, except, that my long nails were digging into the red jester's neck, possibly leaving red nasty marks at this moment.

"Eh?" On the other hand, the poor jester with blue hat watched me with eyes full of terror, wanting to help his partner but was afraid that any single movement from him would only endanger his friend even more.

I think he was so shock that he did not realize he was still standing on his hands. "The number for the match, silly." One corner of my mouth curved up.

"2...216..." He trembled.

"I say you are a bit too weak for the match." I tilted my head to the side. "Ah, I know." My fingers dug into red clown's neck a bit harder. "How about I do this favor for you guys." I could hear the whimper barely coming out of my victim's mouth. "Hand over the number badge and I will take your place." I requested politely.

"What.."

I dug my fingers deeper and gripped a bit harder and smiled even bigger. I can see the poor jester's face was starting to turn into a very unhealthy crimson color that matched his hat color. "Think of all the unnecessary cuts and bruises I am sparing you. With your skills, I doubt you can make it to the second round."

"But.. But.." The jester with blue hat stuttered. "But we just paid for the number badge..they are still selling them at the gate...."

Dumb-ass. I shook my head. Now, if I had the money, I wouldn't have to do this, would I?

"Please let go of Mueller!" The blue jester suddenly cried out. A streak of tear washed down a trail on his color-painted face. "I don't think he is breathing!"

Oops. I immediately loosen up the grip a bit. Hey, I am here for the number badge, not blood. "Hand them over, jesters." I relaxed into a smile.

"INJUSTICE!!!"

What is it now?

I looked over my shoulder to the source of the shouting. And to my surprise, I spot a foreigner wavering a nice shinny sword at me. His eyes and his hair were as dark as the moonless night. He wore not the short plain tunic we wear, but tight black upper body clothing and baggy white pants like the clowns. But then, judging by his piercing eyes and determined expression, I'd say he is probably the only worthy opponent I have seen since this morning.

"HERE!! Here!!! Take it!! Just let Mueller go!!" The jester suddenly dashed toward me. He shoveled his number badge into my hand. "Please let go of him!!!"

"Sure thing." I chirped happily as I released my grip but the corner of my eyes stayed alert at the foreigner.

As soon as Mueller hit the ground, his partner immediately scrambled toward his teammate and started to drag him away from me.

"Dishonorable bastard! Hand them back their possession!" The foreigner pointed his sword toward me. "Jesters, have pride and get back here and take back your number badge."

"No no no no no." Mueller the jester wailed. "Take me home! TAKE ME HOME, ALEX!!!"

"You see!" I tug the number badge into my belt and shrugged. "They want me to do this favor for them." I threw a smile back at the jesters. "Isn't that so?"

"Just get away from us!" The two jesters spoke simultaneously, probably for the first time, before they take off.

Suddenly, I feel proud. Hey, I have cured their double taking, didn't I?

"Well, they don't want it. I need it. So what's the problem here?" I unfolded my hands, smiling at the foreigner with a heavy dose of innocence.

"It is unjust to bully the weak" The foreigner narrowed his eyes. "Show your weapon, thief."

Weapon?

Oh yeah, that's something I need to pick up somewhere too now that I have the number badge. Hum.. I think I spot a swordsman somewhere earlier.

"Are you just going to stand there? Do not underestimate me, thief."

"Oh no no no. I am taking your challenge quite seriously, it just that." I put both of my hands behind my head and threw a nice big smile at the impatient foreigner. "I am looking where I can find a weapon right now."

"Don't make me laugh."

I doubt that I can imagine him laugh either. Just take a look at that serious face and his neat black silky hair tightly held behind his head. If you say he is wearing a mask, I'd believe it.

"You really don't have a weapon?"

I heard a taint of disbelief in his voice and decided that maybe I should be at least a bit more serious and sounded responsible for him. "Well, I DO plan to have a sword by the time I go on the stage tomorrow but. yeah, for right now, I don't."

"Hun!" The foreigner suddenly retracted his sword. "I do not fight the defenseless."

Defenseless? And how defenseless do you think I am? I freaking rubbed the jesters bare-hand just now!

But I said nothing and smiled at him benignly as I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Thief." He said seriously. "My name is Wufei Chang. Remember it because when I see you on the stage tomorrow, justice will be served." The foreigner gave me this one last stern look before he turned and walked away.

I only shrugged. I suppose I will see him in the later rounds. I could not image anyone here being able to beat him that easily. He did have an aura that invokes fear and respect.

Not that I am afraid of him though, because the most terrifying enemy is always the one you least expected.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"My King," The advisor lowered his head in reverence as he kneeled before the throne. "Forgive me for doing such an audacious thing without your approval." His emerald eyes stayed on the floor, never came up to meet the cobalt blues. "I was only concerned for your safety." He spoke calmly, with great weight.

But the king did not say anything as he sat. Expressionless, he only stared at his advisor with indifference. The words passed through him without stirring.

"My King." Realizing he would not receive any words from his King, the advisor finally lifted his head to meet the eyes boldly. A streak of concern faintly shown on his usual impassive face as the advisor continued to do his monologue. "Please allow the servants to bring you food." The advisor took in the fragile form of his King and pleaded. "It's been days since.."

The King shook his head lightly.

"My King."

"It doesn't matter, Trowa." The King looked away. "It's almost time."

"Time for what, My King?"

The King closed his eyes.

"My King?"

"That day.." The King reopened his eyes slowly. "When you saved me and brought me into this Kingdom.."

Trowa nodded. He remembered that day clearly. Three years ago, he had found this man when he was in the Desert Canyon carrying out a mission. It was pure luck. There was a sudden desert storm nearby such that Trowa dived into a cave in order to take cover. And it was there where he found him, lying on the ground, naked, barely breathing.

Actually, the truth was, at first glance, Trowa had thought it was a body and not a survivor. He didn't think any man withstanding such condition could have lived. Not only was his body covered with so much blood such that he could not identify his fatal wounds, the man was also running a high fever and his lips were blue and charred from lack of oxygen and dehydration. Perhaps his heart was so weak that it could not pump enough blood through his body for his fingers and toes were as cold as a corpse. However, Trowa still managed to keep him alive while waiting for the storm to pass before he finally brought him back to Sanc Kingdom. And then the Queen..

"..you never asked me where I came from."

Trowa caught himself and refocused his attention to his King. "I did not." He agreed. A man's origin was not important to Trowa for he himself had come from a far away country that was destroyed a long time ago. Stories like his were so common that it was not even worth mentioning.

It was always the same. Kingdoms engaged in wars for greed and power, leaving its people walking on the edge of destruction. It did not matter where one come from, the story remained the same. You could practically smell the sorrow and the hopelessness in the air. The mountain turned into blood valley and the greenland turned into sand and desert. The world itself was slowly breaking apart...

"Trowa." The King spoke quietly. "If you knew." He leaned back on his throne. "That day." He lowered his eyes. "You would have let me died."

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Isn't this the greatest sword you have ever seen?"

Just as I decided to put the thought of the foreigner behind me and started to search for my weapon, I noticed a growing crowd to my left. Curiously, I head for that direction.

"This sword is handed down 10 generations before me."

What is that I heard? I just cannot believe my luck. I poked my head in to check out the speaker.

"It is said that it had slain many dragons." The swordsman waved his treasured weapon in the air, showcasing it to the people around him.

The crowd around me started to make this 'wooooo', 'waaaaaa' noises.

I eyed the blemish-free sword waving in the air. Its perfect surface reflects even the cloud in the sky. The edge is so sharp that when the idiotic swordsman's hair fall on it, the hair immediately breaks into half and fell like autumn leaves.

The sword was handed down 10 generations he said.

I took a good look at the swordsman. Slightly overweight, double chin, a body that was filled with no single ounce of muscles but fat. I'd say his family has not slay a dragon for at least a couple generations.

"Yo." I called out, pushing my way to the front.

Annoyed at my interruption of his show-off, the swordsman turned, gauging me with his cockeyed eyes. "What do you want?"

"I like that sword." I shrugged, deliberately letting my tunic slide a bit, revealing my seemingly skinny but sexy body. "And I want it."

"Oh yeah?" The hostility was gone in a swift and replaced by lust. "And how are you gonna pay for it?"

"Who says about paying?" I ran my fingers through my soft silky hair, loosening up my braid. "How about I win it by arm-wrestling?"

The swordsman was surprised for a split second before he suddenly sprang a grin that I knew too well. "And what if I win?" The swordsman took my bait as he licked his lips.

What an easy read.

"Simple." I smiled, intentionally leaning my body forward so that the tunic slide even more. My lips were moist and my chestnut hair, already unwound, cascaded down my half naked body. "I will be your slave for one week. But if you loose, your family treasure, meaning, that sword, is mine to keep." I turned to the crowd. "And everyone here can be our fair judge."

"Keep your words, boy. Keep your words." The swordsman laughed, not once doubted that he would be the winner. "It's game." He said slyly as he motioned the crowd to grab a desk and two chairs for the match.

The crowd cheered as I boldly take a step toward him.

I smiled sexily.

And guess what? We all know who win that little arm-wrestling match.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

For people who read "Rebecca" you are probably wondering how the heck is this story inspired by that book? ^__^ well. er.. ^_^;;;

A review please... let me know how I am doing ^_^

DUO:: **** pout *** why did you make me look so mean!!?? CANISA: not mean.. just cocky ^__^ HEERO: *** glare **** don't make me too OOC CANISA: **** backing away from gun point *** TROWA: Please cut my lines. You make me talk too much. CANISA: I am trying!!! Trying!!!! WUFEI: You should have let me beat the crap out of that loud-mouth. *** smirk*** CANISA: ^__^;;;; QUATRE: When am I going to be on?

CANISA: gosh, you bunch complain a lot don't you?