Part 5
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"Must you?"
Treize turned the key in the locks on Wufei's ankles. "Yes, or else you'll absolutely disgrace yourself if anyone comes in to see you."
"Mm...don't care 'bout that..." Wufei giggled again. When Treize bent over his face to unlock his arms, Wufei snuck a quick kiss and moved his arms out of reach again.
Treize gave his slave a scolding glance and pinned Wufei's upper arm down. "My sweet, I don't think I'm up to punishing you just now, so please be a good little slave and hold still."
"Must I?"
"Yes, I think you've been chained down long enough." Finally he got the silver off and tossed the heavy links to the floor. "Better?"
Wufei groaned and turned his face away. "No..."
Treize frowned, then gasped as he remembered. "Oh, I completely forgot about the lights." He stared at Nataku, who stared back with one open eye. "Could you snuff the candles, please?"
With a yawn and a stretch of her wings, she jumped up to the table and pushed her snout to the flame. She didn't blow it out as much as she swallowed it down. Once she finished that one, she hopped around devouring every other candle flame, flicking her tongue out as if it was dry food.
"Is that better now?"
With the only light coming from cracks in the closed window, Wufei nodded and inched closer to Treize, burying his face against his lover's throat. "Damn side-effects..."
"At least it doesn't last very long," Treize offered. "It's not at all as bad as a hangover."
"Mmf." Wufei sighed as he felt Treize slide away, firmly pushing him back onto the pillows. "Do you have to go so soon?"
"I'm afraid so," Treize apologized, retrieving his uniform. "I have to speak with Zechs and Noin about several changes I have in mind for the guard. An assassin is bad enough, but Duo's little display set me on edge."
"But you don't have to take care of that right now. Come back to bed."
Treize only gave him a kiss and brought the sheets up to his chest. "Tonight. Not now." He finished buttoning his shirt and headed for the door. "At least you might be sleepy now?"
Wufei scowled at him. "Is that all this was for? To put me back to sleep?"
Treize smiled and opened the door. "No. Not all. Now get to sleep."
Wufei watched as he left, then turned on his stomach and rose up on his elbows. He heaved a sigh and glanced at Nataku, who seemed to smirk at him. "What, did you enjoy the show?" he snapped.
She chirped an affirmative.
He just growled and lay back down. "It is not a spectator sport," he said as he shut his eyes.
*
"Heero, are you okay?" Duo asked.
"I'm fine," Heero said. "You...startled me before, but...I'm fine."
He needs that control, Duo thought. Even if I'm his slave, he has to have physical control over me... "I love you."
"I know." Heero reciprocated with a kiss. "Why haven't you taken the blindfold off yet?"
"I thought you wanted me to keep it on."
Heero chuckled and lay his hand on Duo's cheek, easing a single finger up under the cloth. Stealing one last kiss, sweeter than usual since Duo didn't expect it, he slid the blindfold off. Duo blinked at the dim glare from the window and closed his eyes again, but that only made him drowsy. Heero noticed how his slave was beginning to drop off and stood, covering Duo under a single sheet so his body was only highlighted by the thin cloth.
"I'll let you sleep for awhile, but you'll have to get up for dinner," he said.
"Okay..." Duo mumbled before completely falling asleep.
Heero watched him for five full minutes, stroking the long hair. He touched the tip of his finger to Duo's lips for just a moment, then shook his head and got to his feet, throwing his clothes on quickly. He'd put it off long enough, procrastinating just to spend time with his slave. Now, with Duo taken care of for at least a few hours, he had time to head for the dungeon and have a talk with the would-be assassin.
*
Fingers rendered clumsy by exhaustion, Trowa unbound Quatre's wrists and rubbed them, massaging away the soreness and creases in the skin. "Are you all right, little one? I wasn't too rough, was I?"
Quatre gave him a reassuring smile and shook his head. "Of course not. I love it rough. Reminds me I can still feel."
Trowa's expression didn't change, but Quatre winced at the amount of sorrow radiating from him. "It's been a year, Quatre. A whole year. You know I would never hurt you like that."
Quatre turned away.
"I'm not like your sisters," Trowa insisted, laying beside him. "I won't lock you up in some cell."
Still no answer.
"Why don't you believe me?"
Quatre screwed his eyes up tight, but he had to answer his master's question. "There are...factions..." he whispered, "...who want the 'lost little prince' back on the throne...they don't want to believe I'm dead." He turned suddenly and latched onto Trowa, as if he was his only anchor and comfort. "If they ever found out it's me...you'd have to get rid of me..."
Trowa shook his head, stroking Quatre's back as he started to cry. "No, no, my little one. No chance of that. No one knows what you look like, and even if they did, you are always veiled at court." He cradled Quatre protectively, soothing him with loving words. "And if the worst happened, and they did find out...I would visit them all in their sleep. No one will ever hurt you again."
Quatre huddled close, accepting Trowa's hold. Blankets were pulled up over his shoulder, warming him up even though he knew the room wasn't cold. "Don't...don't you have to help Heero with something?"
Trowa shook his head and put his hand behind Quatre's neck, tilting the blonde head forward onto his chest. "Nothing he needs me for. Looks like you need me more right now."
Still crying, though not as hard now, Quatre smiled and closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by Trowa's heartbeat.
*
Heero walked down the single corridor that led to the dungeon, his footsteps echoing oddly and reverberating in different directions. He hugged his arms around himself as if he were cold, and indeed he could see his breath mist over in front of his face. It was the only place in the entire city where the temperature dropped so low. Even the dungeon was warmer.
"Heero?"
The prince turned and saw Treize coming up towards him, one hand finishing up the buttons on his collar. "Khushrenada. I take it you're headed for the dungeon as well."
Treize slowed as he caught up, nodding once. "I wouldn't be down here otherwise. I hate this tunnel."
They continued walking, and Heero glanced over his shoulder once, wondering why he felt eyes staring at him.
"You're not the only one," he commented. "There's something strange about this place."
Finally they came to the corridor's end, a large wooden door with heavy metal bolts. Heero unlocked them, and they both stepped down the handful of steps to the lower dungeon floor.
Straw strewn on the floor muffled their footsteps as they passed by several empty prison cells. Most in front were mere cages of iron bars, some of them without doors but with manacles against the walls. At the far end of the dungeon, though, deep in hidden recesses the torchlight couldn't reach, lay a handful of thick doors with huge locks and tiny windows at the top.
"He's in the third one," Treize said, reaching for a ring of keys on the wall. "Heero...when Zechs and I finally broke him, he admitted his crime and explained how he got in, but he held out on who'd hired him. We haven't been able to get that out of him yet."
"Even with a truth charm?"
Treize nodded. "I think he's more afraid of whoever's paying him than he is of us."
"How long as he been isolated?" Heero asked.
"Since we brought him down here," Treize answered, unlocking the door. "He's had nothing to eat or drink, either."
Heero nodded once, then walked in after Treize.
In the corner of the tiny cell, just beyond torchlight, the straw covering the floor rustled as the prisoner scuttled out of reach. A visible trail of blood led to the torn and bandaged hand. Heero shut the door again and stared at the captive.
"What's his name?"
"Nichol," Treize replied.
"Nichol, who hired you?" Heero asked.
The prisoner glared and turned away.
Before Treize could launch into another round of interrogation, Heero moved in a blur and grabbed Nichol, slamming him against the wall. The assassin groaned in pain, stars swimming in his vision.
"I asked you a question," Heero hissed. "I dislike being ignored. Now, I will ask you only once more." A knife appeared in his hand, and he pressed the tip against Nichol's ribs. "Who hired you?"
Nichol tried to shy to the side, but the young prince seemed to have the strength of a monster. "Do what you want," he growled. "I won't talk."
"Wrong answer." The blade slowly pierced the skin, the cold metal slicing past bone and into muscle. "Who?"
Nichol groaned again, but he said nothing. The blade went in farther.
"I'm only inches from your heart," Heero said. "Tell me and I'll end this now."
"Go to hell."
Without changing his expression, Heero pulled the knife back out and pushed it into Nichol's abdomen. Hot blood gushed over his hand. Nichol tried to scream but he couldn't force his words to take shape. Instead his breath came out in shallow hiccups.
"Say nothing and you'll have a dozen matching wounds," Heero told him. "Give me my answer and I'll send you to your chosen afterlife."
Nichol spared a glance at the captain of the guard, who had opted to lean against the wall and wait. Treize noticed his look and shrugged pitilessly. Heero's methods were often cruel and heartless, but they usually got the job done.
"Your choice. I've seen him do it before." Khushrenada smiled, ice in his eyes. "Of course, I can always have my sorcerer raise your dead spirit and get the answer that way."
"And I don't have to let him send you back again," Heero added.
"Actually," Treize said, considering. "Now that I think about it, his dragon hasn't swallowed a soul in quite awhile. I think she might enjoy the treat."
Nichol shut his eyes tight as Heero made another stab. "But...the master...he'll do that if I talk--aagh!"
Heero ceased twisting the knife, waiting. Master?
"No," Treize shook his head. "We'll send your soul off here and now. This palace is safe from magick. You'll die, and no one will ever be able to touch you again."
Heero pushed the blade into another spot, closer to the heart. Blood was starting to cover the floor around them. "You have my word. Tell me who hired you and your soul is safe."
Blood trickled over Nichol's lips, and his voice gurgled. "Sank...Catalonia."
Without hesitation, the blade dived into the beating muscle and stilled it. A few shudders ran through the hilt, and then the body slumped to rest. Heero pulled his knife out and wiped it against the body's clothes before sliding it back into its sheath at his side.
"Sank?" Treize wondered. "I would never have expected the attack to come from those girls."
"I don't think it did."
"You believe he was lying?"
"What does the Sank kingdom care about challenging our sorcerer? No. I think he was telling the truth as far as he could. He mentioned that he had a master, so I doubt he was thinking of either Queen Relena or Catalonia. Still..."
"Best to be certain."
Heero nodded once and rose. "Sank...I think we need to formally invite Peacecraft here, along with her pet foster."
Treize did not look up at the mention of the girl with the long blonde hair. "I'm always surprised someone was willing to foster that girl. There is something unnerving about her."
Leaving that subject behind, they left the cell with orders to the standing guard to clean up the mess. Heero followed the captain out of the dungeon, walking beside him down the hall. "Treize..."
"Yes, Heero?"
"Did something happen down here that I was never told about?" Heero stopped in the middle of the corridor and examined the tiles. "I realize this place is old, but even so, the servants should clean it as well as the rest of the palace." He tugged a cobweb down from part of the wall.
Treize forced himself to remain calm, despite the irrational anxiety building up in him. "No one likes coming down here. It is dark and lonely and often filled with the screams of tortured prisoners." He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword for reassurance. "But you are correct. I have heard my soldiers talking to young recruits and frightening them with ghost stories about this tunnel."
"Ghosts?"
"Two of them. An assassin who saved J's life years ago, and...the original Trowa Barton."
Heero leaned against the wall, in no hurry to leave. "How did they come to be here?"
Seeing that they were not going to return to the main palace until the story was done, Treize leaned against the opposite wall. "I have heard this only as rumors, so they may or may not be entirely accurate. Years ago, during the first wars of your father's reign, the kingdom was attacked by a handful of assassins all intent on murdering J. He retreated down here with what remained of his personal guard, but it finally happened that only his own assassin kept him from being killed. I believe his name was Orin Lowe, Odin Lore, or something like that. In the end, this Odin person defeated the other assassins, but the wounds he sustained were mortal, and he died in this hall."
"And the original Trowa?"
"I thought you knew this story."
Heero shook his head. "I know what J allowed me to know. With him in a coma, I have a chance to find out the truth. What happened?"
"You probably know most of it. Young Miss Barton arrived on her way to Corazon after her trip to Sank. Since the trip takes months, no one must have known that she was pregnant when she set out. Instead she gave birth here in the palace, as did one of the women in a circus troupe performing for the king. I don't know why he chose Triton Bloom, since he could have had the pick of any child born around the same time. But when Trowa was still born, J had the mother killed and brought the dead baby somewhere down here to be hidden away."
"So he sent her body back," Heero nodded in understanding. "Claiming she had died during childbirth."
Treize grimaced. "And since the 'child' was too young to be sent on such a long journey without a mother, Lagrange would foster the prince. After all, we reportedly had a circus mother who had just recently given birth to a stillborn and could take care of the royal child."
"Ingenius," Heero muttered. He glanced back down the hall. "But has anyone ever seen anything?"
"You mean ghosts or spirits?"
Heero nodded.
"No." Treize hesitated, then went on. "There are sounds other than screams, though, like footsteps when no one is near. One of the servants told me that she heard a child crying down here once. There is a rumor of blood appearing on the walls and floor and vanishing again, but that is probably just a lie."
Heero held silent a moment, then stood straight. "Let's leave."
Treize followed after.
Heero shook his head as they left. "I understand why the servants down want to be down here. There may not be real ghosts, but it is disconcerting."
They came into the palace again, relieved at the sudden brightness and the satisfying click of the door locking behind them. Treize adjusted his uniform and bowed to the prince.
"If you won't be needing me anytime soon, your highness, I need to run an errand in the city."
Heero shook his head. "I don't foresee any crisis in the immediate future. Just remind your front gate guards not to get too absorbed in conversation while you're going out."
Treize sighed and frowned. "Zechs and Noin will be taking care of that. They're probably out there already."
Heero watched his captain disappear around a corner, then headed to the palace seamstress. If the Sank delegation was to be invited, then a formal court would have to be involved, and that meant Duo would have to appear at his knee. In full finery. Reminding himself to inform Trowa and Quatre about the invitations, he allowed his mind to wonder what Duo would look like in violet silk with black drapery...no, black silk with violet jewelry and ribbons, and a soft veil across half of his face, just revealing those innocent jade eyes.
*
Duo woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He heaved a sigh and sat up, drawing the blankets up to his chest. If they were knocking, they weren't Heero, and that meant he wasn't to show more skin than necessary. "Who is it?"
"Prince Heero's sent me to take your measurements. Please let me in."
He frowned at the feminine voice. "Measurements?"
"For your new clothes. I'm a seamstress here."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
Childlike laughter. "If I wanted to lie, I wouldn't be carrying all this heavy stuff with me!"
The laughter won him over. "Come on in, then. I think he left the door open."
A young girl with shoulder-length blond hair walked in, a large bag draped over her arm. She smiled and closed the door behind her. "Hi. My name's Midii."
Duo watched as she knelt on the floor and opened the bag, beginning to remove several swatches of fabrics of different colors. "Um, I'm Duo--"
"I know," she said, not looking up. "Everyone knows who you are."
Duo heaved a sigh and lay back again, resting on one elbow. "There must be something more interesting than me to gossip about."
She laughed and shook her head. "Nope, you're it. You have to admit, you've given all the servants plenty to talk about. Breaking in, stopping an assassin...just the fact that his highness didn't kill you immediately is special." She drew out a measuring tape and a notepad. "Okay, this shouldn't take too long. Could you stand up, please?"
Duo blushed and withdrew into the blankets a little. "I can't. Heero wouldn't want me to."
Midii smirked. "His highness knows just how much I'd have to see. Don't worry, I'm not going to pinch your butt or anything."
Duo scanned the room for something, anything he could use and grinned when he saw one of Heero's spare shorts on the floor where'd it had fallen before. "Just toss me those, huh? Then I can get up."
She spotted the shorts and, giggling behind one hand, picked them up and handed them over. He scooted into them beneath the covers and then stood, surprised at how tight yet comfortable the black shorts were.
"Have you ever been measured before?" she asked, coming close.
He shook his head.
"I'm going to put this tape around parts of you and write the number down. You just have to do one thing."
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She placed her notepad down on the bed and started to wrap the tape around his chest. "Don't breathe in, don't exhale too much, don't try to hold anything in. Just stand there and do nothing."
"Is that important?"
She stared into his eyes as she put the tape around his head and face, judging where the veil would fall. "It is if you don't want to burst any buttons at the dinner table."
"Oh."
He held still as the tape stretched over his body, and watched curiously as Midii scribbled little symbols on her pad. I'll bet those are numbers, he thought. I wonder what they mean. I wonder when Wufei'll start showing me those. Hmm, what's that word...c-h-e-s-t...oh, okay...but what's that little one...h-i-something-s...I haven't seen that one before...
Her arms suddenly circled his rear end, and figured out that unknown word meant hips. "Whoa!"
"Sorry 'bout that," she said dryly. "Didn't mean to startle you." She jotted the number down. "Done with that. Have a seat."
"Now what?" he wondered, worried about what else she might have in mind.
"Fabrics." She brought out the pile of swatches and lay them beside him. "Now..." she mused to herself, "he said you'd be in black with violet trim...so none of these...and he hates wool, so nothing of these..."
"He?" Duo asked. "You mean Heero?"
"Mm-hmm. Here we go." She set nine different types of black cloth out and three types of violet ribbon.
"Why so many?"
"Different dyes and dyeing techniques on different silk," she answered. "It affects the texture, and no one wants their slave to have a rash or itch all day because of irritating clothes."
Midii took one patch of black silk and held it to the underside of his wrist. "How does that feel? Scratchy?"
He grimaced. "A little bit."
She put the same patch up against the back of his neck, and this time he visibly cringed. "Not that one. Let's try this one."
"Not so bad."
"This one."
"Ow!"
"Okay, no...this one now."
"Mmm...I can't feel it."
She smiled and moved it from his neck to his inner thigh, slowly coaxing it down his leg to the top of his foot. "Not itchy at all?"
He shook his head, turning so she wouldn't see his blush. "No."
"Hold it against your arm," she said, letting him hold it. "If it gets hot, it might change how it feels."
He obeyed, but after the rest of the cloth was tested, the third was still the best. She stuffed it in one pocket alone with her notes and jammed everything else back into her bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she glanced around to make sure she hadn't left anything behind.
"Great, that's all I needed. When you see his highness again, let him know I said about three days."
Duo blinked. "Three days? Wow, that's a long time!"
"For the first outfit," she nodded. "But once that's done, I'll have the patterns I need for the rest." She tilted her head at him, folding her arms. "How long did you think it would take?"
He lowered his eyes and his hands drifted towards his braid. "Um, in the market, I've seen them make three shirts in one hour."
She nodded knowingly. "Mm, the quick stuff. But that's got large stitching and poor cuts. Not to sound vain, but my stitching's tiny and my work'll fit perfectly."
"What'll it look like?"
Midii shook her head, wagging her finger at him. "Nuh uh uh, you'll find out in three days. See you then."
He watched her leave, then went over and locked the door before tossing Heero's shorts onto the chair. There was no way to tell if Heero would mind him wearing his clothing, and it wasn't worth getting punished over. Nude again, he retrieved his bag of candy and sat at the window, sucking on fancy jaw breakers as he viewed the immediate landscape. He spotted a troop of guards standing at attention, being sternly lectured by Zechs and blinded by the glow of his platinum hair. Beside him, Noin added points as she saw necessary and occasionally smacked a guard if she thought he wasn't listening.
Duo smirked as Zechs tossed his hair back again, making several guards blink. "Definitely not a regulation haircut," he mused to himself. Enjoying the show, he glanced up for a few seconds to stare across the city. If he looked hard enough, he could just make out the high cross of Maxwell's Orphanage.
TBC...
1. My apologies that so much of this chapter is missing, but the first half of it is NC-17. Sadly, those scenes also include quite a bit of plot details. Again, my apologies to my readers.