A Deal with the Devil

Chapter 2: Twelve Years Later; The Deal is Done

"So what do you think, my child?" Zechs looks at a man who was once just 'the figure' to him, an immortal he has come to identify as Master, and smiles slightly.

"The empire thrives Master,"

"And yet," The immortal comes up behind Zechs and rubs his hands up and down Zechs's arms. Zechs knows that the Master knows his thoughts and he bows his head. "All you can think about is the mortal child you sold your soul to save."

"I miss her."

"Even with the kindly Arabian?" The master says. "The hilarious loudmouthed American? The silent clown? The chauvinistic China man? The Perfect Soldier? Even with Sally Po and Hilde Schrebeker and Catherine Bloom and your own sister Relena at your side? Even with my love, beautiful one, is it not enough? You still dream of the child?"

"Master… I…"

"When you lie with me, do you think of her and what it would be like if it were her arms circling you and not mine?" The master's voice has become quietly dangerous and Zechs trembles.

"Please Master, sometimes a woman's touch heals where a man's cannot."

The master thinks on that for a moment and then nods. "Your answer is acceptable. I forgive you."

"Thank you master."

"Your poor tortured soul," The master's voice becomes tender and sympathetic. "I give you everything but you don't want everything do you, mio caro? All you want is a simple little thing and I deny you that."

Zechs cannot think of a reply to that so he remains silent. The wind picks up and blows the long strands of his hair back into the immortal's face. The master catches Zechs's hair between his fingers and tilts the strands to the moonlight.

"Beautiful, you are beautiful my angel" The master breathes in Zechs's ear. "You would never betray me would you?"

"Of course not master,"

"You are mine."

"Yours master," Zechs whispers. "Yours alone."

The master's face has shifted into a dark parody of his normal features, sinisterly alluring. Tiny fangs lower themselves to Zechs's neck and the master drinks deeply of the blood of his servant. He then slashes his own wrist, offers it to Zechs.

"Prove your loyalty," The master whispers huskily. Zechs, moving as a person in a dream, raises the master's wrist delicately to his mouth. Zechs too has changed but his features retain an angel-like quality that the master's lack.

A vision pounds at the back of Zechs's mind with all the intensity of a sledgehammer. The amethyst eyes of his own personal siren stare at him with their fringe of long, black lashes. A gentle hand caresses his face and to Zechs, it is Lucrezia Noin's hand not the master's. Lips press against his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes, the crown of his head, and they are her lips not the master's. She is there to him and the elixir in the Master's veins only serve to make her more real.

When Zechs can drink no more, the master pulls back. Zechs falls to his knees, the vision ripped from him, and the Master kneels beside him. He gently smoothes Zechs's wind-blown hair. "Be careful my dearest. Sometimes a woman's touch can do more than heal."

"Yes master," Zechs whispers, as he bows his head. The master retreats into the shadows and then is gone. Zechs places both hands on the cold concrete. He then utters the desire of his heart in a voice choked with emotion he will never show before his Master…

"Noin…"