Title: Love and Water 3/?
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Shini will probably Meip up with one eventually.
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.
--------
Love and Water – Chapter Two
--------
Quatre groggily opened his eyes, the lids still heavy as he lay in Heero's arms. The entire ride out of the city and to wherever they were in the desert was hazy in his mind, more dreamlike than real. He could vaguely recall water being put to his lips occasionally during the time along with soft encouragements for him to drink. Afterwards, he would be wrapped back up in the sheet and told to go back to sleep, something the potion he had drank left him glad to do. It was the halt in the horse's gait that stirred him back to wakefulness.
Strong arms slid behind his back and beneath his knees as the Abydian lifted him carefully before sliding to the ground. The clomp of hoofbeats signaled the creature moving off from them, stopping a short distance off. Heero's eyes peered down at his own, studying him briefly before resuming their course. Turning his head with a drugged slowness, Quatre saw they had stopped before a craggy cliff wall. Swallowing thickly, his numb lips formed words, the sound of each syllable slurred and too dull to Quatre. "Why are we here? There's no village…"
Heero's storm cloud gaze fixed on him once more, breaking through some of the fog on his mind. The hair was brushed back from Quatre's face gently, a motion that didn't fit with the impassive expression on the raider's face. If he judged on how much emotion the Abydian showed, Quatre would have been sure he would die here. The voice that fell on his ears bore that same coolness to it; no undertones of kindness to make the tender hand touching him make sense, "Because you don't see it, little one, doesn't make it not there. There's an entire tribe here."
An attempt to move his mostly unresponsive legs informed Quatre that his ankles and knees were tied, a half awake glare given to Heero at that. The same was found to be true when he tried to lift his hands. "I can walk…"
Heero snorted as he strode towards the cliff's face, refusing to put the blonde down even with the meager attempts he was making at movement. Zechs had told him that the concoction left the victim sluggish for up to a day after taking it. Seeing him smash his face against rock when tripping would not have fit well into the plans Heero had been forming in his head. "Quiet, little one. Settle down, now."
There was no asking in that voice, each word spoken sharp and crisply in a commanding tone that was not to be denied. Rebel he might be at times, but Quatre was far from stupid. His own delayed or nonexistent reactions told him that he wasn't well enough to go under his own power regardless of how much he disliked being moved about by his own kidnapper.
A thick flap of fabric was pushed aside by Heero when they reached one of the ledges that Nature had formed in the cliff's face. From the outside, it looked like another slab of stone, complete with all the highlights and changing shades of the stones about it. Ingenious in its own way. Slipping within, the sounds of floating laughter and ringing voices reached the pair.
"Oi, Heero!"
A lap slapping sound came as Quatre opened his eyes again, vaguely realizing that he'd fallen asleep again by accident. A tall man with long white hair was standing beside Heero, the crack of a hand meeting someone's body being he greeting Heero. Still half lulled, Quatre squirmed a bit for comfort, finding himself moved by Heero himself for a better hold.
"Is that him, Heero? I have to get a look at what drove you across that sea of sand to get."
Quatre wriggled his nose, trying to make sense of everything he was hearing and get the sheet off of his face, mostly likely covered by his captor once he'd realized Quatre was asleep again. Sea of sand? Just how far were they from his home? Before his thoughts could get themselves fully assembled, Heero's bass voice rumbled through his ear from his head lying on the other's chest. "Hai, and thanks once more for that sleeping aide. It's worked like a wonder."
The thin layer of silk that had fallen over his face was peeled back slowly and gently, firelight filtering through to half lidded eyes. Heero tucked the edges back around Quatre's face, sliding the folds away as carefully as he would from a newborne babe. Pride filled him at this, something he'd seen done a hundred or more times but never done himself. Bringing home a new slave was always a big event among the tribe. It meant fresh blood for lines as well as extra hands to help. Slaves were chosen for beauty at times, yes, being pleasing to the eye was always a good thing. However, the desert lands were harsh and tended to kill pretty things that had no spirit or wits about them. Quatre had both from what he had seen and heard while wandering about the city and waiting for nightfall. The wavy gold of his hair captured the light of the room and set it off perfectly, giving him an illuminated appearance. The sleepiness lingering in his aquamarine eyes did make him look like a child kept up after midnight, right down to the delicate yawn he gave when trying to focus on Zechs above him. After gazing up at the leader of their tribe for a few seconds with an apparent lack of fear, Quatre's rose cupid bow lips gave way to another yawn before he turned his head into Heero's chest and went back to sleep.
"Are you sure he's a human, Heero, and not some angel the Sultan managed to snare for himself?" Zechs asked in a near whisper, restraining himself from touching the sleeper's face. Masters, especially new ones, tended to take badly to anyone laying hand on their property without permission. It had been for this reason that he had asked to see the boy when tribal law gave him the right to take Quatre from Heero if he felt like it.
Heero made a soft sound that might have been a laugh or a snort. With him, one could never tell. "That's what I thought when I saw him break from the crowd to defend me. He's human enough though."
"He has to be strong too if what you've told me is true," Zechs murmured. "May I see one of his hands?"
Heero nodded slowly, pleased in his own silent way that Zechs had asked. This was new and unsure territory for him. Nearly every other adult in the tribe had at least one slave. Zechs had four of them. In bringing Quatre back, he'd been half afraid one of the elders would challenge him for ownership, but if their leader were endorsing Heero having him, few would take the chance. Such an action could be interpreted as going against Zechs and his leadership. Only a fool would do that since tribal leaders only got to be that way by killing the old one. It was a hard code and life, but nothing weak ever survived in this land.
Flicking a too long lock of white hair bound and decorated with scarlet strands from his eyes, Zechs nodded to himself, turning Quatre's hand over in his own. It wasn't soft thankfully. There were small calluses from riding a horse, swinging a weapon, and most likely labour of some sort. The muscles of his hand and arm were developed instead of frail, as his appearance would make one think. "Very good, Heero. You have my compliments on taste and choice. If you wish, when you begin training him, Noin will help."
A stunned silence greeted this from all around. Noin was Zech's slave; one he cherished greatly and at present was the most senior among all the slaves. She had more freedom than any of them and when all the Masters and Mistresses were gone, she was the law. Upon returning, if she told any Master that a slave had misbehaved or was lacking in their duties, they took her word and would set to punishing said slave. For her to be training or aid in training any new one was an honour. If anything else, this cemented further that Quatre was to remain Heero's and Heero's alone. Heero nodded once more at this, a vague shadow of a smile tugging at his lips as he did, "I would be pleased to have her do so."
The tall leader laughed again, another thump of his hand heard as it impacted with Heero's shoulder. Among their kind, if a person couldn't stand a good smack on the back, how could they survive if a sword was driven into them? "Then so it is. Do you want him tattooed and chained before he wakes up?"
Heero paused. That was something he hadn't thought of. Ever since the electric moment he'd seen Quatre run from the people to stand before his cage and challenge the guards, he hadn't been quite thinking. It had been more of the case that he'd seen, wanted, and made it his goal in life to acquire. Quiet in his thinking, he agreed with the idea. It was painful and best done while Quatre was barely awake.
A sharp click of boot leather meeting stone came from behind Heero as yet another asked for a peek at his new treasure. A soft noise of pleasure came from the new looker as she nodded. "Exquisite Heero. You have some of the finest taste I've seen… next to Zechs, of course."
"I'll take that as a compliment from you Sally," Zechs grinned. "If Heero agrees, I'd like you to take a look at his new slave tomorrow to make sure he isn't sick, has no diseases, infections… the whole thing. Also, Heero wants him chained and tattooed tonight, but he's had some of the Sleep Serum. Is there anything we can give him beforehand for pain?"
Sally Po, the woman Wufei had feared for and spoke of considered. She'd done some time as a slave, a year on the whole, before Treize had died. On his deathbed, he'd freed her. Ever since then, she had lived among the Abydians and was proud of that fact. She was their only physician, although she did teach some of her healing arts to the slaves for when their Masters or Mistresses got sick. "I can give him a little of a painkiller, but not much. He'll probably sleep through most of it anyways. Alec has a skill with those needles of his."
Heero had stood quiet in all of these, listening to the two of them go back and forth. While learning, it was always best to stay silent and absorb what one could. As they finished and turned back to him, he merely nodded. He was content with what they were saying, and the sooner the hurt was over, the better for himself and his new slave. On the whole, it was best to get anything unpleasant done while Quatre was the least aware of it in his opinion. "When could Alec do it?"
"Right now, if you want," piped a cheery voice from their side. Another of the female tribe members, Alec's skill in design and putting that on a person's flesh was unsurpassed. Born into the tribe, it was long joked that her birth had come on a saddle. Her mother had been one of the warrioress women of the Abydians, not someone to be trifled with or taken lightly. Even knowing she was in the early stages of labour, she had picked up her blade and ridden into battle with the rest of the tribe to defend their home. Her daughter followed in that tradition as well, the same hand that swung a sword heavy enough to cleave a man in two handling the delicate tattooing needles with ease.
"Hai, now would be perfect," Heero murmured in reply, easing Quatre onto one of the piles of pillows and blankets scattered about the main part of the cave gently.
The Abydians' home was a fortress in itself. Carved into the side of the cliff, it had five entrances or exits, each one guarded at all times. The philosophy in building had been taken from that of an anthill. Should one be overtaken, there were always others to leave by in a hurry if necessary. Each adult male had their own room where they had their personal effects as well as any slaves they might have in their keeping.
Slaves were common among the Abydian people, and they were considered property versus the status that a free person possessed. This was not to say that they were treated badly. Slaves did not have the best of lives, often seeing to the lowest duties that a free person would have snorted at such as carrying dung for fires or fertilizer, but they weren't abused either. Considered part of the tribe, injuring one to where they could no longer perform their duties within the system was bad for everyone, not just that Master or Mistress. On the average, slaves were well taken care of and treated as children, often given liberties that their Masters and Mistresses did not have. Harming a creature that was put on average with a helpless child was not a pleasant way to be viewed. Discipline was one thing and encouraged. Sadism was not. Those that chose to mistreat a slave for no reason soon found themselves in trouble with the entire group for their actions. A free person was ruled by strict codes of conduct and speech while a slave was not. They could dress as they chose unless their owner wanted them to do otherwise. Most generally wore their owner's colour, making them easily identifiable on sight without having to check cuffs for an insignia. It wasn't strange to hear them laughing or giggling over something, whispering among themselves, or the thousand other little mischief they tended to get into without annoying their owners too much. It was a hard life, but it was not uncommon to see a slave proudly declaring whom they belonged to either.
Restless bodies grouped next to Heero and the others, most of the slaves of the tribe nearly eaten up with curiosity to see whom their new brother was. Such fraternal thoughts were often encouraged. Having lines drawn among the slaves was never a good thing and often lead to petty jealousies and incidents. Eager eyes gazed up at Heero as they nudged Noin forward, the pretty Italian girl blushing greatly.
Captured by a different wandering tribe, Noin had been rack thin with starvation and badly beaten when her owners had fallen under the Abydians' blade. Having belonged to the leader, it was the rule of spoils of war that she fell under Zechs' lot when they were divided up. It had taken him many months to erase the abject terror she had first displayed at the sight of a Master or Mistress among them. Like taming a wild stallion, it had taken time and gentleness; two qualities most wouldn't have looked for in the leader of a group that had no problems with killing. Now, she was a pretty and more self-confident girl, and finding one more loyal to their Master would have been a hard task. Coughing quietly, she peeked out from beneath her bangs against at her Master and Heero, "Master Heero, we were wondering can we… umm… can we see… him? Please?"
Heero held back a small smile that wanted to surface at Noin's hesitant words. Nodding softly, he pulled the sheet from Quatre's body, needing it out of the way anyways for Alec to work. Folding it to put aside, he let the other girls take a look, the group of slaves cooing and chattering among each other. Unlike Zechs and Sally, they seized the opportunity to touch his hair and face, marveling at how silken both were. Unlike he would have with a free person, Heero allowed it, smirking to himself as they exclaimed over him.
A bubbly girl bounced to Heero's side, composing herself before daring to speak to him. Most were afraid to a degree of Heero with his silent, deadly ways, but for him to own such a precious and cherubic slave redeemed him more than he would ever know among the slave populace. It made him more human. Finishing calming down first, Skylar grinned shyly up to him, "Master Heero? I still have that dark blue cloth that Alyssian traded me if you need something for him to wear. Raincha and I can make him something out of that! It's strong too and won't tear up."
Heero gave his permission, the two slave girls skittering out of the room with each other, already whispering about how to make it. It was like watching two girls deciding how to dress a new doll. Any doubt he held about Quatre not fitting in was being eroded. Settling down cross-legged, he swatted the rest of the slaves away amid a few squeaks and pulled Quatre onto his lap. A mutter of complaint escaped the blonde at this as he tried to twist and curl up to Heero's frame for comfort. For a time, Heero was left in a mild shock. He had expected biting and kicking, not compliance. Reminding himself that it was the drug working, he coaxed Quatre out of his long sleeved shirt, tossing it to the girls. Happy sounds met this as they mulled over who would get it or whether or not to cut it up into ribbons. Fingering the fine silk texture, they begged one of the Masters to do just that for them. Fineries such as hair ribbons were great gifts to them, and none of them possessed a knife or sharp enough implement. Either suited Heero since he had no intentions of letting Quatre keep any of the clothing he was wearing right now. There would be no ties or reminders to his former life to make him unhappy in this one.
Alec was gentle in studying Quatre, turning his hands over and testing the skin on his legs and chest. Sally sat at her side, performing her own examination of the boy. From what she could tell, he was in good health. There were no lesions on his skin, it had an excellent colour, and his breathing was even. Parting his lips for a few droplets of opiate, she settled back to watch. "That should do it. He may wake up, but he'll be more asleep than awake and shouldn't move on you or fight."
Alec's birdlike eyes raised to Heero's, a grin of pleasure on her lips at having so fine a canvas to work on. Quatre's delicate skin was flawless in her eyes, smooth and soft. It would absorb the inks and not be difficult to pierce. "What would you like his mark to be, Heero?"
Heero made a soft noise of thought as he rested his cheek against the crown of golden locks, one hand rising to stroke through them gently. While he was not aware of it, Sally and Alec shared a secret smile with each other. It was always a pleasure to them to see someone matched up. Abydians held a belief that all people were matched to another when they were still souls waiting for a body, the mark on their inner selves and seen only by their mate when they found each other again. Zechs had found it in Noin, and so had many others, regardless of whether they were both or one free or slave. Raising his head, Heero arched a brow at the two before dismissing it as womanly things he didn't care to know about. "I would like a crescent moon on the backs of each of his hands, ones like my own. Another across the back of one of his shoulders. I want the colour to be a dark blue if possible."
Alec nodded, somewhat disappointed. Moons were easy, not a real test of her skills. "Anything else?"
A hand ran along Quatre's chin as Heero thought, sniffing the boy's neck unconsciously. A hint of roses lingered there still; probably from one of the many beds of the hardier blooms he had seen around the Winner house when sneaking in. Quatre would want something pretty, something he could look at on himself and not call ugly. "A rose with each, entwined about it. Can you do that?"
An almost offended look met him in reply as Alec snorted. "I was doing this before you were born. What colour of rose?"
A hint of a grin touched at Heero's mouth before it vanished back into his usual cold look. "A lighter shade of blue, something that can be pleasing to look at."
Another look shot between Sally and Alec as the artist bent to her task. While Heero's marks were large and encompassed nearly the whole back of his hand, Quatre's would be smaller and more delicate. They were a means for identifying a slave, but not something that could be mistaken for a Master's. In the end, they would be about the size of a large coin. The shoulders, thigh, over the heart, or on the stomache were other common places for a slave to be marked. The ones across the hands could be hidden if a slave was escaping, but others would be harder.
While forced to sit with Quatre on his lap, Heero began stripping all the jewelry off of him. His slave would have none unless he chose to give it to him. The earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and circlet were laid in a pile and turned over to Zechs. The tribal leader arched a brow, and Heero nodded. In its own way, it was a show of obedience. On the average, the gold, silver, and gems that Heero turned over to him was nearly a pile of riches in its own, but Zechs was the leader and deserved it. If they needed something, it was Zechs who had most of the money to go get it. Those baubles might very well be needed if a horse died suddenly or food ran out. No one would have debated Heero keeping it, but by handing it over for the common good, he was strengthing his place within them.
Zechs rose briefly to secure the goods, barely glancing at Noin as she moved at his side. Laying them on his bed, he watched her with a grin as she picked up Quatre's circlet and preened a moment before the mirror. Plucking it off her head, he gave her a kiss to the lips before locking it away with the rest, "Princess you may look, my dear, but my slave is what you are."
A smile he had worked long for greeted his words from her. Settling back in the main room to watch the tattooing, he gathered her into his arms. Scarlet threads wound through her dark hair as well, wrapped about those at her temples. Of the entire group, he was the only one who wore red, a colour of strength and unity among them, much as Heero was the only one who could claim dark blue, one for stealth and speed. Sally's was white for her healing arts, and Alec's was silver for the glint of sunlight off of a sword's blade. Leaning over his girl's head, he watched Galron in the corner working away.
Galron was the tribe's metal smith. Anything that needed repaired or figured out could be brought to him. At present, he was engraving and firing the symbol that Heero had selected onto a pair of cuffs. They were each of a blackened metal, thin and light for one of Quatre's size. About two inches wide, they would sit just below his wrist when finished so not to hinder motion. This had to be done without fail while the slave was unconscious because of the danger of heated metal accidentally burning when they were sealed on. Having a slave awake and aware of the danger of being badly burnt would have been cruel and unnecessary, as well as distracting if they fought. It was called 'chaining' among them. Collars had been used for awhile, but after discovering that their enemies used that as well, not to mention seeing a few of their slaves hung that way when a raiding party had hit the fortress while they were gone, that method had been abandoned for the cuffs. A small circular ring dangled from the inside of each one, a means for securing the slave if punishment was called for. Identical ones would be fastened about Quatre's ankles as well. Atop each one was the crescent moon with the rose entwined that Heero had requested.
Heero gently turned Quatre on his lap as his hands were finished, shifting the boy to lie against his chest and his back to be bared. Sally carefully applied a salve to the tattoos and a light bandage over them while murmuring to Heero what would need to be done to prevent infection. Slaves could have easily cared for them on their own, but it was a Master or Mistress' duty to take care of what they owned. In their first days, a slave might be too frightened or refuse to take care of him or herself, so the responsibility fell on their owner. As his back was started upon, Quatre whimpered in his sleep, Alec stopping until he settled down. Heero soothed Quatre as best he could, gently stroking his back and whispering in his ear about how well he was doing. Nonsense words for the most part, but they lulled him back to sleep.
Across the room, Zechs smiled to himself amid the strands of Noin's dark hair. Heero was doing remarkably well, something that caused a swell of pride in him. When Heero had come to him hours before, newly escaped and badly worn out, requesting to take a slave of his own, Zechs had been wary. Most took an already trained slave as their first, the Master learning in this case more than anything on how to be good to one instead of making cruel or stupid mistakes. Hearing this golden male described, he had heard little of what Heero said, watching instead the other's body language. There were no signs of wanting to hurt the boy for his imprisonment or in releasing him, only a desire to possess and understand him. In the end, he had given his permission with only the barest shreds of fear. Seeing this, he was more than reassured for Heero's part. Quatre's would come later when the boy had proved himself to be obedient and an asset to the tribe. If he was not, he would have to ask Heero to sell or kill the boy. The tribe was all that mattered in the end within Zechs' eyes.
As Alec finished, she slid back with a smile. Perfection. Each crescent was a small sliver, a copy of the ones Heero bore. A thornless stem wound about the base of the moon, with a fully bloomed rose laying about the upper quarter of it. It was important that the moon be bigger, of course, since it represented Heero himself. The rose was delicately and intricately made, perfect for Quatre. Watching Heero look over the mark and give his nod of appreciation, Alec grinned and began the process of carefully cleaning her needles.
A soft rustle of robes brought Galron to Heero's side, holding out the bracelet and anklets for his inspection. Lifting each in his hands, he ran his fingertip along each edge. A sharpness in one or a shard of metal poking out would cut and require them being removed or have a slave suffer. It was needless for the most part with Galron, but Heero would take no chances. He'd seen a mistake made once, and the slave had kept silent about the hurt until nearly dying from an infection that had developed. Inattentiveness to a slave by a Master had little room for forgiveness when a creature that depended on them was weeping in hurt from their carelessness. Testing the lightness, Heero was satisfied, handing them back to Galron. "Excellent work as always, both you and Alec."
Zechs rose like a cat on the prowl as he crouched at Heero's left side. Alec finished with her needs and took the right. Platinum eyes moved to Galron as Zechs asked quietly, "Which side do you want to do first?"
Eyeing Heero and Quatre, Galron's head tilted thoughtfully, "The right, I believe. Right wrist, then ankle… then to the left for the same."
Zechs nodded, letting Heero lay Quatre out once more and straddle him. Sliding his knees up to rest on Quatre's shoulders, he bore down with more of his weight on the right side. After Galron slipped the cooled cuff about the blonde's wrist and positioned it, Zechs leaned across the prone body and put his hands below Quatre's elbow, holding him down there. Alec's hands rested on Quatre's right hand, pinning it as well. For a mistake to be made in this would lead to horrible scarring from molten metal. Very carefully, a slim trough was slid between the opening in the cuff and the boy's skin. As much padding as could be placed beneath the bottom of the trough and skin was stuffed in. It had to be tight enough to stay put once sealed, but not injure the skin. Taking a deep breath, Galron slid the dipper into the nearly cooled metal over the low burning fire. Slowly, he filled the trough and smoothed out the metal to fill the opening, sealing it on. To everyone's relief, Quatre stayed asleep, the heat not reaching his skin as it would if Galron had miscalculated.
The process was repeated with each limb, the trough pulled back with the padding left in place to keep the cooling metal from touching the flesh. When he was on the last one, Quatre tried to turn over in his sleep, thankfully held down by all those on him. His body jerked and a rill of molten steel slopped out of the trough. Without thinking, Heero's hand shot forward, catching the burning liquid within his own and slinging it to the side. Muttered curses were heard from all around, both for the spooky speed that Heero had moved with as well as an injury to a warrior on a hand that could hold a sword. Finishing with the cuff as soon as they could, Sally snatched the Abydian's hand to examine. A frown surface as he examined where the metal would have struck Quatre and then the hand once more.
"What is it?" Zechs asked, cursing himself internally. It hadn't been his fault, just blind bad luck, but blame was still his burden in his eyes.
"There's a small burn as if he got too close to a fire, but no real mark," Sally replied, eyeing Quatre's ankle once more. "Nothing on him or on the slave. A few bits of metal clinging on the outer edge of the burn, but it's not serious. Should be gone in a day or two."
Clapping Heero on the back again, Zechs was pleased. It would be days before Quatre's people figured out in which direction Heero had taken him, and many more before they would discover where their home was if they chose to attack. If that came, he would need every fighter in top condition. "How about not hurting yourself next time, Heero? I'd rather his skin than your hand be burnt, ne? Are those cuffs setting, Galron?"
Heero himself was still partially dumbfounded. He nodded to the command as he joined the metal smith to take a look at the cuffs, his own mind still reeling. There had been no thought. He had felt the jerk and known that the metal was going to slosh over. His hand had moved before his mind had registered it.
Galron smiled as he stood up, preening a bit unconsciously. "They're perfect as always, Zechs. I'll need to file them a bit on the bottom to smooth them out, but the circle on them is complete. It'll take a good strike from a man your size to take any of them off."
Yawning, Zechs nodded, letting Galron do the fine work on finishing the cuffs as he gathered up Noin in his arms. "I'm going to bed with my woman. Early day tomorrow. I want the area scouted for any invaders that might have their act together."
A short time later, Galron finished, bidding them all good night as well. Heero made another examination of the cuffs, scrubbing his fingertip along the edges and the bottoms of each one, vainly trying to gather up or find anything that could hurt Quatre. Contented, he finally let Sally see to his hands.
"You'll do fine, Heero. Stop worry," she murmured to him in a low whisper in the empty room.
Heero blinked at her a bit puzzledly, ignoring the shards of pain from his hand as she peeled off what little metal that had bonded to his skin, "Nani?"
Sally waved to the slumbering Quatre who was once more in Heero's lap as she worked, "Him. You're not going to screw up or do something wrong. You might over Galron and Alec apologies though for glaring at them each time Quatre whimpered in his sleep while they worked though."
His lips parted to retort and deny he had done such a thing before he closed it. Had he? Shrugging it off for now, he shifted Quatre in his arms to keep the boy from getting a crick in his neck. "It's a lot of responsibility," he admitted finally.
"Hai, that it is. His happiness, sadness… If he cries, each tear will be your fault, and if he smiles, each one will be for you. It's hard to be a Master. You walk that thin line on keeping him a slave and yourself above him, yet not being cruel or letting him think he's useless or a piece of furniture. It's more difficult that anyone can or will ever believe."
Heero sighed, nuzzling the blonde locks again before he caught himself doing so, "I can do it."
Sally patted his shoulder gently as she finished. Heero was a cold and hard man at times, made that way from fighting and killing since he could hold a blade. An orphan, he had been picked up by Treize one day when he had encountered the then six year old on a street. Heero had tripped on the edge of Treize's cloak and glared darkly at the man as if it had been Treize's fault. Helping the child up, Treize had sent him on his way with a sliver of hard candy. When meeting up with the rest of the group, he discovered that he had been skillfully pickpocketed. Laughing about it, he and the others set off searching for the chibi thief. Finding him gnawing on a piece of rotten cabbage, it had taken all four of them to hold Heero down and recover the coins. Impressed with the child, Treize had offered to let Heero come join them if he was willing to work. From there, it had gone to the man who stood before Sally today. He was well respected and liked within the tribe, one that any warrior or warrioress wanted at their back to defend them in battle. There were whispers among the elders that he would take control of the Abydians from Zechs when the white haired man was ready to step down or Heero grew brave enough to lay claim to the place. Watching him, Sally doubted it would come to battle. If and when Zechs was ready to let fresher blood rule them, she would have placed all her coin on Heero overtaking the leadership easily. He was the calm strength and power that signified the Abydians. "Hai, you can, and you will. Any of us will help if you need it. Zechs has confidence in you, so do many others and I. Get to bed, Heero. You'll need it for tomorrow for breaking him in. And Heero, remember that being a Master doesn't mean breaking a slave's spirit, just bending it to your will a little. A broken slave is worthless. They're better off dead, and a fist is not always the best solution, but neither is catering to every whim."
Offering Sally one of his rare smiles, Heero rose to his feet, lifting Quatre with him. Slipping into his room, he clipped a chain newly embedded into the wall to the boy's right wristcuff. If Quatre woke up first, he wasn't having him run off. Stripping away the last of the blonde's clothing, he tossed it into his basket. Tomorrow, he could hand those silken pants off to the girls for their own uses and the rest could be used for padding for future chainings. Running his fingers across the bared skin, Heero reined in his own desires, forcing himself to wait. His first coupling was not going to be a drugged encounter. No, it was going to be better, and not something Quatre could resent later and feel forced into. Resent led to hate. Curling his body about the nude one of his new slave to keep them both warm, Heero pulled the blanket up over them and slid into a light sleep.
Author: Zoisite NightDragon/Seguchi Touma
Pairing:1x4/4x1, 3x5 (it's weird, but it works. I hope *crosses fingers*) ... Shini will probably Meip up with one eventually.
Warnings: I hate doing warnings. Decide for yourself. It'll get lemony (of course) and there will be some angst and other common themes. AU is a definite. Language as well. Domination, bondage, submission themes as well ahead. If this sort of thing isn't what you like to read, then I'd suggest stopping now. You have been warned. The Abydians are a tribe I just made up. I had no idea if it's even an actual word.
--------
Love and Water – Chapter Two
--------
Quatre groggily opened his eyes, the lids still heavy as he lay in Heero's arms. The entire ride out of the city and to wherever they were in the desert was hazy in his mind, more dreamlike than real. He could vaguely recall water being put to his lips occasionally during the time along with soft encouragements for him to drink. Afterwards, he would be wrapped back up in the sheet and told to go back to sleep, something the potion he had drank left him glad to do. It was the halt in the horse's gait that stirred him back to wakefulness.
Strong arms slid behind his back and beneath his knees as the Abydian lifted him carefully before sliding to the ground. The clomp of hoofbeats signaled the creature moving off from them, stopping a short distance off. Heero's eyes peered down at his own, studying him briefly before resuming their course. Turning his head with a drugged slowness, Quatre saw they had stopped before a craggy cliff wall. Swallowing thickly, his numb lips formed words, the sound of each syllable slurred and too dull to Quatre. "Why are we here? There's no village…"
Heero's storm cloud gaze fixed on him once more, breaking through some of the fog on his mind. The hair was brushed back from Quatre's face gently, a motion that didn't fit with the impassive expression on the raider's face. If he judged on how much emotion the Abydian showed, Quatre would have been sure he would die here. The voice that fell on his ears bore that same coolness to it; no undertones of kindness to make the tender hand touching him make sense, "Because you don't see it, little one, doesn't make it not there. There's an entire tribe here."
An attempt to move his mostly unresponsive legs informed Quatre that his ankles and knees were tied, a half awake glare given to Heero at that. The same was found to be true when he tried to lift his hands. "I can walk…"
Heero snorted as he strode towards the cliff's face, refusing to put the blonde down even with the meager attempts he was making at movement. Zechs had told him that the concoction left the victim sluggish for up to a day after taking it. Seeing him smash his face against rock when tripping would not have fit well into the plans Heero had been forming in his head. "Quiet, little one. Settle down, now."
There was no asking in that voice, each word spoken sharp and crisply in a commanding tone that was not to be denied. Rebel he might be at times, but Quatre was far from stupid. His own delayed or nonexistent reactions told him that he wasn't well enough to go under his own power regardless of how much he disliked being moved about by his own kidnapper.
A thick flap of fabric was pushed aside by Heero when they reached one of the ledges that Nature had formed in the cliff's face. From the outside, it looked like another slab of stone, complete with all the highlights and changing shades of the stones about it. Ingenious in its own way. Slipping within, the sounds of floating laughter and ringing voices reached the pair.
"Oi, Heero!"
A lap slapping sound came as Quatre opened his eyes again, vaguely realizing that he'd fallen asleep again by accident. A tall man with long white hair was standing beside Heero, the crack of a hand meeting someone's body being he greeting Heero. Still half lulled, Quatre squirmed a bit for comfort, finding himself moved by Heero himself for a better hold.
"Is that him, Heero? I have to get a look at what drove you across that sea of sand to get."
Quatre wriggled his nose, trying to make sense of everything he was hearing and get the sheet off of his face, mostly likely covered by his captor once he'd realized Quatre was asleep again. Sea of sand? Just how far were they from his home? Before his thoughts could get themselves fully assembled, Heero's bass voice rumbled through his ear from his head lying on the other's chest. "Hai, and thanks once more for that sleeping aide. It's worked like a wonder."
The thin layer of silk that had fallen over his face was peeled back slowly and gently, firelight filtering through to half lidded eyes. Heero tucked the edges back around Quatre's face, sliding the folds away as carefully as he would from a newborne babe. Pride filled him at this, something he'd seen done a hundred or more times but never done himself. Bringing home a new slave was always a big event among the tribe. It meant fresh blood for lines as well as extra hands to help. Slaves were chosen for beauty at times, yes, being pleasing to the eye was always a good thing. However, the desert lands were harsh and tended to kill pretty things that had no spirit or wits about them. Quatre had both from what he had seen and heard while wandering about the city and waiting for nightfall. The wavy gold of his hair captured the light of the room and set it off perfectly, giving him an illuminated appearance. The sleepiness lingering in his aquamarine eyes did make him look like a child kept up after midnight, right down to the delicate yawn he gave when trying to focus on Zechs above him. After gazing up at the leader of their tribe for a few seconds with an apparent lack of fear, Quatre's rose cupid bow lips gave way to another yawn before he turned his head into Heero's chest and went back to sleep.
"Are you sure he's a human, Heero, and not some angel the Sultan managed to snare for himself?" Zechs asked in a near whisper, restraining himself from touching the sleeper's face. Masters, especially new ones, tended to take badly to anyone laying hand on their property without permission. It had been for this reason that he had asked to see the boy when tribal law gave him the right to take Quatre from Heero if he felt like it.
Heero made a soft sound that might have been a laugh or a snort. With him, one could never tell. "That's what I thought when I saw him break from the crowd to defend me. He's human enough though."
"He has to be strong too if what you've told me is true," Zechs murmured. "May I see one of his hands?"
Heero nodded slowly, pleased in his own silent way that Zechs had asked. This was new and unsure territory for him. Nearly every other adult in the tribe had at least one slave. Zechs had four of them. In bringing Quatre back, he'd been half afraid one of the elders would challenge him for ownership, but if their leader were endorsing Heero having him, few would take the chance. Such an action could be interpreted as going against Zechs and his leadership. Only a fool would do that since tribal leaders only got to be that way by killing the old one. It was a hard code and life, but nothing weak ever survived in this land.
Flicking a too long lock of white hair bound and decorated with scarlet strands from his eyes, Zechs nodded to himself, turning Quatre's hand over in his own. It wasn't soft thankfully. There were small calluses from riding a horse, swinging a weapon, and most likely labour of some sort. The muscles of his hand and arm were developed instead of frail, as his appearance would make one think. "Very good, Heero. You have my compliments on taste and choice. If you wish, when you begin training him, Noin will help."
A stunned silence greeted this from all around. Noin was Zech's slave; one he cherished greatly and at present was the most senior among all the slaves. She had more freedom than any of them and when all the Masters and Mistresses were gone, she was the law. Upon returning, if she told any Master that a slave had misbehaved or was lacking in their duties, they took her word and would set to punishing said slave. For her to be training or aid in training any new one was an honour. If anything else, this cemented further that Quatre was to remain Heero's and Heero's alone. Heero nodded once more at this, a vague shadow of a smile tugging at his lips as he did, "I would be pleased to have her do so."
The tall leader laughed again, another thump of his hand heard as it impacted with Heero's shoulder. Among their kind, if a person couldn't stand a good smack on the back, how could they survive if a sword was driven into them? "Then so it is. Do you want him tattooed and chained before he wakes up?"
Heero paused. That was something he hadn't thought of. Ever since the electric moment he'd seen Quatre run from the people to stand before his cage and challenge the guards, he hadn't been quite thinking. It had been more of the case that he'd seen, wanted, and made it his goal in life to acquire. Quiet in his thinking, he agreed with the idea. It was painful and best done while Quatre was barely awake.
A sharp click of boot leather meeting stone came from behind Heero as yet another asked for a peek at his new treasure. A soft noise of pleasure came from the new looker as she nodded. "Exquisite Heero. You have some of the finest taste I've seen… next to Zechs, of course."
"I'll take that as a compliment from you Sally," Zechs grinned. "If Heero agrees, I'd like you to take a look at his new slave tomorrow to make sure he isn't sick, has no diseases, infections… the whole thing. Also, Heero wants him chained and tattooed tonight, but he's had some of the Sleep Serum. Is there anything we can give him beforehand for pain?"
Sally Po, the woman Wufei had feared for and spoke of considered. She'd done some time as a slave, a year on the whole, before Treize had died. On his deathbed, he'd freed her. Ever since then, she had lived among the Abydians and was proud of that fact. She was their only physician, although she did teach some of her healing arts to the slaves for when their Masters or Mistresses got sick. "I can give him a little of a painkiller, but not much. He'll probably sleep through most of it anyways. Alec has a skill with those needles of his."
Heero had stood quiet in all of these, listening to the two of them go back and forth. While learning, it was always best to stay silent and absorb what one could. As they finished and turned back to him, he merely nodded. He was content with what they were saying, and the sooner the hurt was over, the better for himself and his new slave. On the whole, it was best to get anything unpleasant done while Quatre was the least aware of it in his opinion. "When could Alec do it?"
"Right now, if you want," piped a cheery voice from their side. Another of the female tribe members, Alec's skill in design and putting that on a person's flesh was unsurpassed. Born into the tribe, it was long joked that her birth had come on a saddle. Her mother had been one of the warrioress women of the Abydians, not someone to be trifled with or taken lightly. Even knowing she was in the early stages of labour, she had picked up her blade and ridden into battle with the rest of the tribe to defend their home. Her daughter followed in that tradition as well, the same hand that swung a sword heavy enough to cleave a man in two handling the delicate tattooing needles with ease.
"Hai, now would be perfect," Heero murmured in reply, easing Quatre onto one of the piles of pillows and blankets scattered about the main part of the cave gently.
The Abydians' home was a fortress in itself. Carved into the side of the cliff, it had five entrances or exits, each one guarded at all times. The philosophy in building had been taken from that of an anthill. Should one be overtaken, there were always others to leave by in a hurry if necessary. Each adult male had their own room where they had their personal effects as well as any slaves they might have in their keeping.
Slaves were common among the Abydian people, and they were considered property versus the status that a free person possessed. This was not to say that they were treated badly. Slaves did not have the best of lives, often seeing to the lowest duties that a free person would have snorted at such as carrying dung for fires or fertilizer, but they weren't abused either. Considered part of the tribe, injuring one to where they could no longer perform their duties within the system was bad for everyone, not just that Master or Mistress. On the average, slaves were well taken care of and treated as children, often given liberties that their Masters and Mistresses did not have. Harming a creature that was put on average with a helpless child was not a pleasant way to be viewed. Discipline was one thing and encouraged. Sadism was not. Those that chose to mistreat a slave for no reason soon found themselves in trouble with the entire group for their actions. A free person was ruled by strict codes of conduct and speech while a slave was not. They could dress as they chose unless their owner wanted them to do otherwise. Most generally wore their owner's colour, making them easily identifiable on sight without having to check cuffs for an insignia. It wasn't strange to hear them laughing or giggling over something, whispering among themselves, or the thousand other little mischief they tended to get into without annoying their owners too much. It was a hard life, but it was not uncommon to see a slave proudly declaring whom they belonged to either.
Restless bodies grouped next to Heero and the others, most of the slaves of the tribe nearly eaten up with curiosity to see whom their new brother was. Such fraternal thoughts were often encouraged. Having lines drawn among the slaves was never a good thing and often lead to petty jealousies and incidents. Eager eyes gazed up at Heero as they nudged Noin forward, the pretty Italian girl blushing greatly.
Captured by a different wandering tribe, Noin had been rack thin with starvation and badly beaten when her owners had fallen under the Abydians' blade. Having belonged to the leader, it was the rule of spoils of war that she fell under Zechs' lot when they were divided up. It had taken him many months to erase the abject terror she had first displayed at the sight of a Master or Mistress among them. Like taming a wild stallion, it had taken time and gentleness; two qualities most wouldn't have looked for in the leader of a group that had no problems with killing. Now, she was a pretty and more self-confident girl, and finding one more loyal to their Master would have been a hard task. Coughing quietly, she peeked out from beneath her bangs against at her Master and Heero, "Master Heero, we were wondering can we… umm… can we see… him? Please?"
Heero held back a small smile that wanted to surface at Noin's hesitant words. Nodding softly, he pulled the sheet from Quatre's body, needing it out of the way anyways for Alec to work. Folding it to put aside, he let the other girls take a look, the group of slaves cooing and chattering among each other. Unlike Zechs and Sally, they seized the opportunity to touch his hair and face, marveling at how silken both were. Unlike he would have with a free person, Heero allowed it, smirking to himself as they exclaimed over him.
A bubbly girl bounced to Heero's side, composing herself before daring to speak to him. Most were afraid to a degree of Heero with his silent, deadly ways, but for him to own such a precious and cherubic slave redeemed him more than he would ever know among the slave populace. It made him more human. Finishing calming down first, Skylar grinned shyly up to him, "Master Heero? I still have that dark blue cloth that Alyssian traded me if you need something for him to wear. Raincha and I can make him something out of that! It's strong too and won't tear up."
Heero gave his permission, the two slave girls skittering out of the room with each other, already whispering about how to make it. It was like watching two girls deciding how to dress a new doll. Any doubt he held about Quatre not fitting in was being eroded. Settling down cross-legged, he swatted the rest of the slaves away amid a few squeaks and pulled Quatre onto his lap. A mutter of complaint escaped the blonde at this as he tried to twist and curl up to Heero's frame for comfort. For a time, Heero was left in a mild shock. He had expected biting and kicking, not compliance. Reminding himself that it was the drug working, he coaxed Quatre out of his long sleeved shirt, tossing it to the girls. Happy sounds met this as they mulled over who would get it or whether or not to cut it up into ribbons. Fingering the fine silk texture, they begged one of the Masters to do just that for them. Fineries such as hair ribbons were great gifts to them, and none of them possessed a knife or sharp enough implement. Either suited Heero since he had no intentions of letting Quatre keep any of the clothing he was wearing right now. There would be no ties or reminders to his former life to make him unhappy in this one.
Alec was gentle in studying Quatre, turning his hands over and testing the skin on his legs and chest. Sally sat at her side, performing her own examination of the boy. From what she could tell, he was in good health. There were no lesions on his skin, it had an excellent colour, and his breathing was even. Parting his lips for a few droplets of opiate, she settled back to watch. "That should do it. He may wake up, but he'll be more asleep than awake and shouldn't move on you or fight."
Alec's birdlike eyes raised to Heero's, a grin of pleasure on her lips at having so fine a canvas to work on. Quatre's delicate skin was flawless in her eyes, smooth and soft. It would absorb the inks and not be difficult to pierce. "What would you like his mark to be, Heero?"
Heero made a soft noise of thought as he rested his cheek against the crown of golden locks, one hand rising to stroke through them gently. While he was not aware of it, Sally and Alec shared a secret smile with each other. It was always a pleasure to them to see someone matched up. Abydians held a belief that all people were matched to another when they were still souls waiting for a body, the mark on their inner selves and seen only by their mate when they found each other again. Zechs had found it in Noin, and so had many others, regardless of whether they were both or one free or slave. Raising his head, Heero arched a brow at the two before dismissing it as womanly things he didn't care to know about. "I would like a crescent moon on the backs of each of his hands, ones like my own. Another across the back of one of his shoulders. I want the colour to be a dark blue if possible."
Alec nodded, somewhat disappointed. Moons were easy, not a real test of her skills. "Anything else?"
A hand ran along Quatre's chin as Heero thought, sniffing the boy's neck unconsciously. A hint of roses lingered there still; probably from one of the many beds of the hardier blooms he had seen around the Winner house when sneaking in. Quatre would want something pretty, something he could look at on himself and not call ugly. "A rose with each, entwined about it. Can you do that?"
An almost offended look met him in reply as Alec snorted. "I was doing this before you were born. What colour of rose?"
A hint of a grin touched at Heero's mouth before it vanished back into his usual cold look. "A lighter shade of blue, something that can be pleasing to look at."
Another look shot between Sally and Alec as the artist bent to her task. While Heero's marks were large and encompassed nearly the whole back of his hand, Quatre's would be smaller and more delicate. They were a means for identifying a slave, but not something that could be mistaken for a Master's. In the end, they would be about the size of a large coin. The shoulders, thigh, over the heart, or on the stomache were other common places for a slave to be marked. The ones across the hands could be hidden if a slave was escaping, but others would be harder.
While forced to sit with Quatre on his lap, Heero began stripping all the jewelry off of him. His slave would have none unless he chose to give it to him. The earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and circlet were laid in a pile and turned over to Zechs. The tribal leader arched a brow, and Heero nodded. In its own way, it was a show of obedience. On the average, the gold, silver, and gems that Heero turned over to him was nearly a pile of riches in its own, but Zechs was the leader and deserved it. If they needed something, it was Zechs who had most of the money to go get it. Those baubles might very well be needed if a horse died suddenly or food ran out. No one would have debated Heero keeping it, but by handing it over for the common good, he was strengthing his place within them.
Zechs rose briefly to secure the goods, barely glancing at Noin as she moved at his side. Laying them on his bed, he watched her with a grin as she picked up Quatre's circlet and preened a moment before the mirror. Plucking it off her head, he gave her a kiss to the lips before locking it away with the rest, "Princess you may look, my dear, but my slave is what you are."
A smile he had worked long for greeted his words from her. Settling back in the main room to watch the tattooing, he gathered her into his arms. Scarlet threads wound through her dark hair as well, wrapped about those at her temples. Of the entire group, he was the only one who wore red, a colour of strength and unity among them, much as Heero was the only one who could claim dark blue, one for stealth and speed. Sally's was white for her healing arts, and Alec's was silver for the glint of sunlight off of a sword's blade. Leaning over his girl's head, he watched Galron in the corner working away.
Galron was the tribe's metal smith. Anything that needed repaired or figured out could be brought to him. At present, he was engraving and firing the symbol that Heero had selected onto a pair of cuffs. They were each of a blackened metal, thin and light for one of Quatre's size. About two inches wide, they would sit just below his wrist when finished so not to hinder motion. This had to be done without fail while the slave was unconscious because of the danger of heated metal accidentally burning when they were sealed on. Having a slave awake and aware of the danger of being badly burnt would have been cruel and unnecessary, as well as distracting if they fought. It was called 'chaining' among them. Collars had been used for awhile, but after discovering that their enemies used that as well, not to mention seeing a few of their slaves hung that way when a raiding party had hit the fortress while they were gone, that method had been abandoned for the cuffs. A small circular ring dangled from the inside of each one, a means for securing the slave if punishment was called for. Identical ones would be fastened about Quatre's ankles as well. Atop each one was the crescent moon with the rose entwined that Heero had requested.
Heero gently turned Quatre on his lap as his hands were finished, shifting the boy to lie against his chest and his back to be bared. Sally carefully applied a salve to the tattoos and a light bandage over them while murmuring to Heero what would need to be done to prevent infection. Slaves could have easily cared for them on their own, but it was a Master or Mistress' duty to take care of what they owned. In their first days, a slave might be too frightened or refuse to take care of him or herself, so the responsibility fell on their owner. As his back was started upon, Quatre whimpered in his sleep, Alec stopping until he settled down. Heero soothed Quatre as best he could, gently stroking his back and whispering in his ear about how well he was doing. Nonsense words for the most part, but they lulled him back to sleep.
Across the room, Zechs smiled to himself amid the strands of Noin's dark hair. Heero was doing remarkably well, something that caused a swell of pride in him. When Heero had come to him hours before, newly escaped and badly worn out, requesting to take a slave of his own, Zechs had been wary. Most took an already trained slave as their first, the Master learning in this case more than anything on how to be good to one instead of making cruel or stupid mistakes. Hearing this golden male described, he had heard little of what Heero said, watching instead the other's body language. There were no signs of wanting to hurt the boy for his imprisonment or in releasing him, only a desire to possess and understand him. In the end, he had given his permission with only the barest shreds of fear. Seeing this, he was more than reassured for Heero's part. Quatre's would come later when the boy had proved himself to be obedient and an asset to the tribe. If he was not, he would have to ask Heero to sell or kill the boy. The tribe was all that mattered in the end within Zechs' eyes.
As Alec finished, she slid back with a smile. Perfection. Each crescent was a small sliver, a copy of the ones Heero bore. A thornless stem wound about the base of the moon, with a fully bloomed rose laying about the upper quarter of it. It was important that the moon be bigger, of course, since it represented Heero himself. The rose was delicately and intricately made, perfect for Quatre. Watching Heero look over the mark and give his nod of appreciation, Alec grinned and began the process of carefully cleaning her needles.
A soft rustle of robes brought Galron to Heero's side, holding out the bracelet and anklets for his inspection. Lifting each in his hands, he ran his fingertip along each edge. A sharpness in one or a shard of metal poking out would cut and require them being removed or have a slave suffer. It was needless for the most part with Galron, but Heero would take no chances. He'd seen a mistake made once, and the slave had kept silent about the hurt until nearly dying from an infection that had developed. Inattentiveness to a slave by a Master had little room for forgiveness when a creature that depended on them was weeping in hurt from their carelessness. Testing the lightness, Heero was satisfied, handing them back to Galron. "Excellent work as always, both you and Alec."
Zechs rose like a cat on the prowl as he crouched at Heero's left side. Alec finished with her needs and took the right. Platinum eyes moved to Galron as Zechs asked quietly, "Which side do you want to do first?"
Eyeing Heero and Quatre, Galron's head tilted thoughtfully, "The right, I believe. Right wrist, then ankle… then to the left for the same."
Zechs nodded, letting Heero lay Quatre out once more and straddle him. Sliding his knees up to rest on Quatre's shoulders, he bore down with more of his weight on the right side. After Galron slipped the cooled cuff about the blonde's wrist and positioned it, Zechs leaned across the prone body and put his hands below Quatre's elbow, holding him down there. Alec's hands rested on Quatre's right hand, pinning it as well. For a mistake to be made in this would lead to horrible scarring from molten metal. Very carefully, a slim trough was slid between the opening in the cuff and the boy's skin. As much padding as could be placed beneath the bottom of the trough and skin was stuffed in. It had to be tight enough to stay put once sealed, but not injure the skin. Taking a deep breath, Galron slid the dipper into the nearly cooled metal over the low burning fire. Slowly, he filled the trough and smoothed out the metal to fill the opening, sealing it on. To everyone's relief, Quatre stayed asleep, the heat not reaching his skin as it would if Galron had miscalculated.
The process was repeated with each limb, the trough pulled back with the padding left in place to keep the cooling metal from touching the flesh. When he was on the last one, Quatre tried to turn over in his sleep, thankfully held down by all those on him. His body jerked and a rill of molten steel slopped out of the trough. Without thinking, Heero's hand shot forward, catching the burning liquid within his own and slinging it to the side. Muttered curses were heard from all around, both for the spooky speed that Heero had moved with as well as an injury to a warrior on a hand that could hold a sword. Finishing with the cuff as soon as they could, Sally snatched the Abydian's hand to examine. A frown surface as he examined where the metal would have struck Quatre and then the hand once more.
"What is it?" Zechs asked, cursing himself internally. It hadn't been his fault, just blind bad luck, but blame was still his burden in his eyes.
"There's a small burn as if he got too close to a fire, but no real mark," Sally replied, eyeing Quatre's ankle once more. "Nothing on him or on the slave. A few bits of metal clinging on the outer edge of the burn, but it's not serious. Should be gone in a day or two."
Clapping Heero on the back again, Zechs was pleased. It would be days before Quatre's people figured out in which direction Heero had taken him, and many more before they would discover where their home was if they chose to attack. If that came, he would need every fighter in top condition. "How about not hurting yourself next time, Heero? I'd rather his skin than your hand be burnt, ne? Are those cuffs setting, Galron?"
Heero himself was still partially dumbfounded. He nodded to the command as he joined the metal smith to take a look at the cuffs, his own mind still reeling. There had been no thought. He had felt the jerk and known that the metal was going to slosh over. His hand had moved before his mind had registered it.
Galron smiled as he stood up, preening a bit unconsciously. "They're perfect as always, Zechs. I'll need to file them a bit on the bottom to smooth them out, but the circle on them is complete. It'll take a good strike from a man your size to take any of them off."
Yawning, Zechs nodded, letting Galron do the fine work on finishing the cuffs as he gathered up Noin in his arms. "I'm going to bed with my woman. Early day tomorrow. I want the area scouted for any invaders that might have their act together."
A short time later, Galron finished, bidding them all good night as well. Heero made another examination of the cuffs, scrubbing his fingertip along the edges and the bottoms of each one, vainly trying to gather up or find anything that could hurt Quatre. Contented, he finally let Sally see to his hands.
"You'll do fine, Heero. Stop worry," she murmured to him in a low whisper in the empty room.
Heero blinked at her a bit puzzledly, ignoring the shards of pain from his hand as she peeled off what little metal that had bonded to his skin, "Nani?"
Sally waved to the slumbering Quatre who was once more in Heero's lap as she worked, "Him. You're not going to screw up or do something wrong. You might over Galron and Alec apologies though for glaring at them each time Quatre whimpered in his sleep while they worked though."
His lips parted to retort and deny he had done such a thing before he closed it. Had he? Shrugging it off for now, he shifted Quatre in his arms to keep the boy from getting a crick in his neck. "It's a lot of responsibility," he admitted finally.
"Hai, that it is. His happiness, sadness… If he cries, each tear will be your fault, and if he smiles, each one will be for you. It's hard to be a Master. You walk that thin line on keeping him a slave and yourself above him, yet not being cruel or letting him think he's useless or a piece of furniture. It's more difficult that anyone can or will ever believe."
Heero sighed, nuzzling the blonde locks again before he caught himself doing so, "I can do it."
Sally patted his shoulder gently as she finished. Heero was a cold and hard man at times, made that way from fighting and killing since he could hold a blade. An orphan, he had been picked up by Treize one day when he had encountered the then six year old on a street. Heero had tripped on the edge of Treize's cloak and glared darkly at the man as if it had been Treize's fault. Helping the child up, Treize had sent him on his way with a sliver of hard candy. When meeting up with the rest of the group, he discovered that he had been skillfully pickpocketed. Laughing about it, he and the others set off searching for the chibi thief. Finding him gnawing on a piece of rotten cabbage, it had taken all four of them to hold Heero down and recover the coins. Impressed with the child, Treize had offered to let Heero come join them if he was willing to work. From there, it had gone to the man who stood before Sally today. He was well respected and liked within the tribe, one that any warrior or warrioress wanted at their back to defend them in battle. There were whispers among the elders that he would take control of the Abydians from Zechs when the white haired man was ready to step down or Heero grew brave enough to lay claim to the place. Watching him, Sally doubted it would come to battle. If and when Zechs was ready to let fresher blood rule them, she would have placed all her coin on Heero overtaking the leadership easily. He was the calm strength and power that signified the Abydians. "Hai, you can, and you will. Any of us will help if you need it. Zechs has confidence in you, so do many others and I. Get to bed, Heero. You'll need it for tomorrow for breaking him in. And Heero, remember that being a Master doesn't mean breaking a slave's spirit, just bending it to your will a little. A broken slave is worthless. They're better off dead, and a fist is not always the best solution, but neither is catering to every whim."
Offering Sally one of his rare smiles, Heero rose to his feet, lifting Quatre with him. Slipping into his room, he clipped a chain newly embedded into the wall to the boy's right wristcuff. If Quatre woke up first, he wasn't having him run off. Stripping away the last of the blonde's clothing, he tossed it into his basket. Tomorrow, he could hand those silken pants off to the girls for their own uses and the rest could be used for padding for future chainings. Running his fingers across the bared skin, Heero reined in his own desires, forcing himself to wait. His first coupling was not going to be a drugged encounter. No, it was going to be better, and not something Quatre could resent later and feel forced into. Resent led to hate. Curling his body about the nude one of his new slave to keep them both warm, Heero pulled the blanket up over them and slid into a light sleep.