Author: Keiran

Title: A World in a Grain of Sand 1/?

Pairings: 1+2, minor 4x5x4 and odd het pairing (that's a surprise ^_^)

Rating: It probably doesn't deserve an R, but let it be so. Just to be safe and all.

Genre: There'll be romance, mild angst, now it's just historical sort of fantasy.

Warnings: Shounen-ai. Medieval medical help. This part contains mostly dream sequences, which can be confusing. Also there is an implied NCS, but it probably doesn't deserve the warning. Mild bastardisation of the pilots minus Duo. 

Archive: my site, which you will find at my author page, if you want it, drop me a line. ^_^

The author needs to get a good line to express her thanks to Sundaire, for putting up with her creepy use of commas and other mishaps. The author is very happy to have such a good beta. beams

***

Heero gave up eventually and passed out. Duo barely spared him a glance, too busy treating the gash. He was almost finished by that time anyway.

"Do you have a camp? He'd need to stay in bed for a while and the temple is full."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Other than an inch deep slash across his back? Yes, I'd say so. I think the blade was poisoned, and it is in his bloodstream already. I'll give you the antidote, but he needs to lie in bed and drink it. He will probably have a fever too."

"Will you come to see him?" Quatre asked softly.

"There is no need to," the young healer replied coolly putting his implements back into the bag.

"He'd want to see you," Trowa said coldly.

"I do not owe him anything. There is no need for my presence, therefore I will not come."

"He owns you!" Trowa yelled. Wufei and Quatre glanced at him shocked.

"No, he does not." Duo got up. "Nor are we under your laws. If he tries to touch me, I will not hesitate to protect myself." He looked dispassionately at the prone body lying on the ground. "Wrap him in something warm, dissolve the concoction in hot water, one spoon for a cup and make him drink it every three or four hours." He handed Quatre the small bottle he had used earlier. "It'll be best if he drinks it warm. Now excuse me, please."

***

Heero dreamed. Or perhaps 'remembered'.

Six years earlier, as he was returning from the campaign against barbarians from the east, he found a present from lord Quatre in his bedroom. A lovely young boy, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, while he himself was barely twenty-five.

Keeping slaves was not uncommon in Sanq, but although they were seen only as a property of their masters, treating them will ill intention was heavily frowned upon. It was rare to find more then a few slaves in a household, the majority of them being pleasure slaves for young, unmarried men. Even rarer was to find a slave who wasn't content with his or her life. Having to please one master, who was sworn to protect them from any harm, treat them with care and respect, was definitely better then bedding a complete stranger, who could slit their throat in the morning. Even as they grew old, they were guaranteed a place in the house until they died, and when they did, they were buried as the Goddess had commanded for any other.

Heero could clearly remember the shock of walking into his chambers and seeing the boy for the first time. He was dressed in a thin, purple, silk gown, common attire for bed-slaves. His long hair had been woven into a thick braid, decorated only with a single ribbon.

His head rested on his shackled wrists, his eyes were closed. He was asleep.

He remembered the surprise of seeing those violet eyes for the first time, glaring at him, as the child demanded to be set free. He didn't listen. He had kissed him then instead.

There was no deep emotion in that kiss. There was only lust. Heero could vaguely remember feeling grateful for telling Quatre once what he enjoyed in his slaves. He liked them fiery, and this one was. The child fought against him, with all of his strength, but Heero was stronger, older and more experienced. He used the boy's own body against his will, making him cry out in pleasure. He smirked to himself when the elfin boy passed out from exhaustion. He didn't stand a chance. Even if he didn't want to be Heero's pleasure slave, his young body demanded release. And Heero didn't mind being on the active side in the least. That smirk stayed with him when he fell asleep.

The general could also remember waking up in the middle of the night to find his new bed mate sitting on the floor, still bound to the bed, shaking with silent sobs. Heero watched him for a short while and decided to let him cry. The little elf would have to get used to sleeping with him, whether he liked it or not.

He never did. Each and every time he fought as fiercely as the first.

It became one of Heero's favorite pastimes, to watch him when he didn't know he was being watched. After a month he was certain that the boy hadn't originated from Sanq. There was a slight foreign accent to his words, even if he hid it well.

Heero would have known for sure, if he had known his name, but every time he asked the child either ignored him or gave an answer of the 'not my place to say, not your place to know' kind. Since he had to have a name, for lack of one created a problem, in bed scenes, for one, Heero resolved to call him Kirei – which meant beautiful in his native language.

The decision caused some surprise also, Heero could swear Kirei understood what he was called. He never managed to confirm it though.

All of that said rather firmly that he wasn't born a slave either. He could read, he knew history, philosophy, math and physics (it took time for Heero to discover just how well-educated Kirei was), which slaves are taught somewhat in order to entertain their masters in conversation, but no slave was skilled in all of the fields.

Days passed and Heero found himself more and more enraptured with his beautiful bed mate. He in turn seemed to accept his fate, at some level at least. He didn't cry anymore at night, and he started to communicate a little. Of course he didn't care at all what Heero did or said (including the times when he was forced into his bed), and he regarded Quatre with cold indifference. Among Heero's closest friends the only one he treated with some respect was Wufei.

Eventually, the great general found out that he could not bear the thought of spending months away from Kirei. Since his post required traveling, not only into battles, he started to include the boy in his journeys. Trowa usually hauled his wife along with him too. Dorothy, strangely, took an immediate liking to Kirei. Even more strange, the feeling seemed to be reciprocated. If you could call their bickering that. But the truth remained that Dorothy was the only person who managed to make him smile. Yet no one managed to make him laugh.

Both irritated Heero to no end.

But, all that has a beginning, also has its end.

Kirei has always loved the sea. If the camp was set near the sea, he got up every morning to watch it and nothing his master said could prevent it. One day, roughly one year after Kirei was found, on the way back to the capital the camp was set near an edge of a cliff – not too close, but close enough to prevent unwanted visitors from that direction. Heero was usually waking up as soon as Kirei left his arms, and this time was no different. He waited while Kirei dressed himself and went outside, then he followed him.

The sun has barely risen, so everybody were still sleeping. The long-haired boy walked to the edge and sat down watching the waves crashing on the rocks below. Heero watched him, smiling gently, until other people started to emerge from their tents.

Heero remembered calling his name softly.

He remembered suddenly how wet the grass was, and the violent storm that took place during the night.

And that the edge Kirei was sitting on protruded about two meters away from the cliff.

Heero remembered someone screaming when the piece of ground broke away and fell, taking his Kirei with it.

He could never forget, even after having seen it only from the distance, the strangely peaceful look on the boy's face when he realized he was going to fall. Even if there was fear in his eyes too.

**TBC**