Disclaimer: Aren't you tired of hearing this? I know I am for saying it. . . not to say saddened that they can never be mine. @_@

Warnings: Hear ye, hear ye. This is YAOI. AU. 1x2, 3x4, 5+H, 6x9, magic, ghosts, and a very much frustrated Heero. (YAY!!) Guess what's happening to him. . . and who's causing it! This chapter is 95% Heero's point of view, just wanted you to know. Enjoy. . .

Feedbacks: I crave for reviews! Please indulge me! ONEGAI!!

"Words"

'Thoughts'

Chapter Six: First Night (Part Two)

Past midnight. . . the hour by which anything normal at Lowe Castle had long since sought out their beds. But Heero Yuy often wondered which existence he belonged to more: the world of mortal men or that of the unquiet shades of his ancestors. Tonight, he felt one of those restless spirits, haunting his own bedchamber. Heero tugged at the neckline of his half-open shirt, fighting the urge to consult the damned cross again. Fighting the even darker urges of a descendant of Odin Lowe who had waited for his Mate too long already.

Now here was his Mate, and it hardly seemed to matter that he wasn't the Mate Heero wanted. Not with the ticking sounds of the clock driving him insane. Not with his own blood pumping so hot in his veins.

Heero stifled a low groan. Another dark night of despair, unendurable loneliness, and longing fierce enough to bring a man to his knees. Another night of sleepless hell. He raked both hands back through his hair. He didn't need to go seek out more visions in the Cross to know his future. The blasted guy was undoing him already. He could actually hear the thudding of his own heart, the quick intake of his breath, and. . . the infernal ticking of that clock.

Spinning around, with one glare, he wrenched the clock from the wall, levitating it a few feet into the air. Somehow, he stopped just short of dashing the clock to bits against the fireplace. He flung it down upon his thick mattress instead. Mercifully, the ticking stopped.    

Dizzy with the pain that little outburst of temper had cost him, Heero leaned against the bedpost for support, cursing his stupidity. As his eyes cleared, his eyes were drawn to the far end of his bedroom. The silver branch of candles on his bureau sent a soft glow over his dark blue bed hangings, stretching fingers of light toward the door lost in the shadows. The door that connected to the room where Duo lay.

He had retired there much earlier in the evening, while his sister was escorted to another bedchamber. Heero had apologized grudgingly during dinner, as much as apologies go. Quatre actually beamed at him, happy that Heero had come to his senses. Trowa stifled a laugh at the half-bitter, half-repentant expression on his dark-haired cousin's face. Hilde accepted his apology reluctantly, and while taking small glances at her brother, who was eerily quiet the entire time.

Heero exuded a long sigh that echoed through the entire room.

Duo. . . his destined one as Quatre had insisted. All that Heero can desire in a Mate. All he could ever dread, Heero thought bitterly. Gorgeous and spirited, stunned half to death by him. And Heero had not even told him the complete truth about himself as yet. He'd been too much wary for that.

He continued to stare at the door in brooding silence, attempting to delve past the barrier, sense Duo's movements in a way he could do with everyone else at Lowe Castle. But it was useless. Even when he strained to the full extent of his power, Duo continued to elude him. He remained outside of his range, as mysterious and incomprehensible as the night.

Heero expelled another breath of frustration and baffled defeat. Damn him! If he was his true Mate as Quatre claimed, then surely Heero should be able to link himself to every breath he took, every beat of his heart, even from a league away. Instead he didn't think he could determine Duo's presence if he was beside him. And this was the person that he was supposed to face in a few days, make to him the most sacred vow any descendant of Odin Lowe could give.

The pledge of his heart and soul.

"Damn you, Quatre," Heero muttered. "You better be right about him!"

It was as much a prayer as it was a curse, because if his blond cousin is wrong. . . Heero hardly dared think about the consequences, being bound to a person who move him not at all. At least not the spiritual part of him. As for the physical part of him---he clenched his teeth. That was another matter. The one kiss alone he'd forced had been enough to. . . The feel of his sensual mouth beneath his, all honeyed and warm---even the memory of it could---DAMN!

Heero rushed over to the washstand. He didn't pause for pouring the water into the basin. He splashed the cold liquid directly from the jug onto his flushed face. And still his breeches and shirt felt too tight for his skin. He all but wrenched off the buttons, peeling open the white linen to bare his chest, sputtering water over his heated flesh, dampening him until he looked like a man racked with fever, soaked in sweat. Maybe he was. Maybe he should dump what remained in the jug over the lower part of his body. He couldn't believe he lusted after Duo this way. . . with a turbulent hunger that bit deep into him.

Hn. No matter how painfully his desires had raged, he had sought out none of the usual ways of easing his need, foolish men or women from the village who got some kind of dark thrill from bedding the cursed Lord of Lowe Castle. People who would do anything for enough coin. He'd wanted none of their practiced caresses and empty sighs. He had been able to hunger and dream of no one else but the person that Quatre would find for him, this destined one who would meet him as his equal, two halves of the same whole. The Mate who would bring ease not only to his needs but perhaps to his troubled soul. . .

What a fool he was. Heero closed his lips in a self-mocking sneer. What a complete and utter fool to have ever succumbed to the legends of Lowe Castle, to believe that such Mate could exist when it didn't. At least not for him.

All those agonizing nights of waiting, burning, hoping. . . and for what? Duo Maxwell, his Mate whose vitality douses when Heero is present. He actually bolted rather than be kissed by him. When he spun him around to pull him into his embrace, his great violet eyes pleaded him to stop. But Heero didn't, because what began in anger, in a motive to demonstrate to him who would be master in this castle, had ended in pure desire.

Though it was clear Duo didn't want Heero to touch him.

His ancestor Odin would never have had this trouble with a man or a woman. It was said that but one whisper from that blasted spell-caster had been enough to bring any person running naked to him.

But Heero didn't want to have his Mate through mesmerization or dark magic. He wanted Duo like any normal men. And the longer this hellish night wore on, the more he didn't see why he shouldn't have him.

Gazing at the closed door, bitterness surged through him. Duo had agreed to stay, be his Mate. He belongs to Heero. He paid a lot on the marriage settlement. Why shouldn't Heero have him? Now. Tonight.

Blood pumping darkly through his veins, he started toward the door. He paused to glance back at the candles. A brief pain flashed behind his temple, and one taper lifted up and floated across the room to settle into his hand.

Heero reached for the door to find it locked, but locked doors had never posed any problem for him. With a single moment of concentration, he slid back the bolt on the other, and the door swung open.

The first thing that caught his gaze was the figure of a sleeping person at the center of the big bed. Duo lay there, still wearing his clothes from earlier---snoring softly---the coverlets dragged up to his chin. He hugged the pillow to his head with both arms; his braid tumbled on one side of the bed.

Whipping about, Heero crept closer to the bed at the center of the room. It was so damnably silent in here. The kind of silence that reminded him of certain nights in his childhood when his mother had barred herself in her bedchamber after another of her bouts of hysterical sobbing. His father had paced the hall below, bowed down by the weight of his wife's misery, doing penance for sins he could not help. The sin of being a descendant of Odin Lowe.

Heero had watched these little dramas being played out, a quiet specter in the doorway, forgotten by both of them. Sometimes, Heero wondered which parent's rejection had cut him the most. He even had a scar as a reminder of those days. A recent legacy of hate and fear.

His pulse gave an erratic pulse as he neared his sleeping Mate. He cupped his hand around the flame as the candle shine spilled further into the room, not wanting to startle Duo awake, then he settled the candle on a brass holder upon a small dresser.

Up close like this, Heero can clearly see his Mate. He hadn't paid much attention to his face earlier, as he too angry by his mistake of kissing the wrong person, his unsatisfied hunger. . . and he was much too enraptured by those mesmerizing violet eyes.

What he saw now caught his breath.

Duo was. . . beautiful, for the lack of better word. His chestnut hair turned slightly lighter by the candle's light. His golden-tipped lashes rested against the curve of his cheek. And his full red lips naturally pouted in a way that could drive a saint to lustful thoughts. He seemed pale and unhappy in his slumber, though. Swallowed up in that great bed, he looked small and lost, with a child-like vulnerability. He felt a strange emotion stir deep inside him, far deeper than any of his physical burnings. It had been a quite a while since he'd experienced such thing; it took him some time to recognize it for what it was.

Tenderness. The urge to draw Duo into his arms and hold him for a long time until he felt safe.

As though he sensed Heero hovering over him, Duo stirred. Heero retreated a pace as the still sleeping boy shifted his position, a tiny furrow marring his brow, his hand reaching up to tug at his braid. Heero continued to watch as the figure in the bed tugged some more at his long hair, as if wanting to free it from its tight plait but it got stuck. Duo groaned then settled as a huddled ball in the center of the bed. It was apparent that he isn't comfortable sleeping with his hair in a braid. So why in the world would he sleep with it?

The blue eyed young man's first impulse was to wake him and tell him to unweave his hair. But even as he reached for him, Heero hesitated.

Duo looked so damned exhausted, so damned innocent. It seemed wrong to awake him when he's too tired.

A long frustrated sigh escaped Heero, and he backed away from the bed. He had waited this long; he could surely manage to suffer longer. But he couldn't leave the damned idiot like this either. He looked again at the disturbed frame of his Mate, then focused on his long rope of chestnut hair. He had never tested out his powers upon anything quite so fine. He gentled his mind, and slowly, very slowly, Heero mentally unbraided Duo. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow, his temples throbbing acutely from such a long-sustained effort. By the time the chestnut tresses were free, he felt almost weak.

A small smile of relief emerged from Duo's lips. Sighing this time, he rolled over sprawling unto his back sensuously, one arm raised as if inviting Heero to do what he ached to do. Heero groaned once more, his desire coming back after he shut down the power of his mind. It flared to new life inside him, a dark, hungry thing, needing consummation, to mate with Duo as he had never mated with anyone before.

The desperate longing seemed to pulse from his flesh, throwing off heat as a roaring fire would do. And it was almost as if Duo could feel it, too, even in his slumber. He stretched his body languorously, moistening his lips and smiling temptingly. Heero felt something inside him snap. Bending closer, he intended to forget about their earlier hostility and kiss his Mate softly awake. . . until his peripheral vision caught the sight of his reflection in the mirror across the room.

Heero stared at himself---his messy hair, his wild, hungry eyes---then at Duo's sleeping figure. At that he straightened. This was something he had avoided doing all his life, and had almost done earlier. . . forcing himself upon someone unwilling. He had tried doing it to his mother---tried showing her that he was not the monster she thought him to be---and God knows what resulted out of that incident. His scar; and her death. He shook his head violently, painful memories from the past dousing his desire. He would have to wait.

Stealing one last glance at his Mate, he turned and crept from the room. A moment later and the bolt clicked again, locking the door. It was the sound that finally awoke Duo. His eyelids fluttered, but he resisted, trying to cling to sleep, to the dream that was already slipping out of his grasp.

It was the most luscious dream he'd ever had, sensual, yet somehow intense. Heero had come into his bedroom, but he was nothing like the Heero that Duo met. Not the bastard with the cold eyes. He had been warm and gentle, slowly unbraiding Duo's hair. His fingers had moved over his back, stroking and caressing. Duo reached out, and Heero smiled down at him, revering him with his beautiful dark blue eyes.

He had seemed to be trying to tell Duo something.

I only want to love you, Duo. Let me. Show me the way.

Then he bent toward him, and Duo sighed, waiting for a kiss that never came. He gave up and opened his eyes, his dream vanishing. Duo frowned at the ceiling, propping himself with both his arms. 'Well, so much for another great dream---' He stopped short as he felt his hair slide in his arms lightly. He sat up, lifting the heavy mass of hair in front of him. He could have sworn he left it on a braid when he fell asleep, too much preoccupied to let it loose. . .

Telling himself that it just unbraided while he was sleeping, he prepared to go back to sleep when a flicker of light caught his attention.

Duo jolted, fully awake. He noticed the melting candle placed on his bureau just in time to watch the flame go out. . . A light someone had left burning on his bureau.

For a long time he sat upright in the darkness, barely breathing. His narrowed gaze rove around the shadowy corners of his room, shifting from one corner to another, before he could convince himself he was alone.

At least he was now.

Drawing the blankets up to his eye level, Duo sank back against his pillows.

But not to sleep.

Tbc. . .

Yoshi! Part two done!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Did you enjoy reading it? Poor Heero, ne?

Um, I just want to tell you, I changed the rating of this story to an R because Heero and Duo's wedding night is coming SOON. Yay!

Thanks to all who reviewed, by the way! Me want more! PLEASE REVIEW!