-1Hmmm… I might need to change the rating after this chapter, just to be safe.

Thanks for the reviews, love you all!

Disclaimer: See chapter one

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Duo felt warm. He was very comfortable, which was a feeling that he didn't get too often. It wasn't that he was picky about his surroundings, but the people around him, the ones who made him comfortable, had an annoying habit of dying.

Avoiding such mellow thoughts in his early stages of consciousness, Duo sighed as he attempted to fall back asleep. Snuggling into the warmth, he imagined that maybe Solo had come to warm him up. His hand reached around the other entity, and he felt smooth cloth beneath his fingertips. Solo didn't wear clothes, did he?

Quatre then. Burying his face into the crook of Quat's neck-since when have I been short enough to do that?- he wrapped an arm around a waist, one that while narrow, didn't have the same slight curve to it as Quatre's.

Urghhh… Did it really matter? Were Quat's hips so important that they possessed him with a need to awaken even earlier?

Lifting a lazy head, he half opened a violet eye, turning his head and gazing up into midnight blue eyes.

Blue eyes. Quat had blue eyes. They were light, innocent, and airy, making him look like one of the angels painted in the church. It was too bad that particular angel deserved a set of horns, rather than a halo.

Wait, if Quat had light blue eyes, and whomever he was clinging to had dark blue eyes. Duo was confused. While part of his sleep muddled mind attempted to decipher the difficult concept that no, dark blue eyes + tallness+ narrow hips did not equal Quat, the other, more straight forward part wanted to know who he was wrapped around, if it wasn't his blonde buddy.

His blue eyes glared at Duo, searing his soul…

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" SMACK

From the look Heero-, that was his name, right? - was giving him, Duo decided that he was extremely happy the potentially dangerous teen was subdued by ropes and a gag.

Duo stood up, a sudden draft of cold air catching his attention. He looked down and realized that he was only clad in his boxers. Ruffling through his bags, he quickly extracted a shirt and a pair of pants. Quickly pulling them on, he stepped into his now dry boots, all the while slipping his arms through the sleeves of his priest jacket. Duo's cross gleamed in the silver light while Duo buttoned, strapped, and tied his outfit.

"You-you…you…" Duo could not even find the proper words to describe his utter mortification. He could feel heat in his cheeks; they were probably as red as Heero's sweet, thin, cherry lips. Lips that were set onto a perfectly shaped face with an even tan.

Nevertheless, one must remember not to digress, and Duo shook his head, attempting to stay on the topic at hand. How did he end up in that monster's arms?

Well, it was more like the monster had been in his arms, since a coil of rope bound said monster's arms, henceforth, it was unlikely they could wrap around anything…

"Infuriating bastard!" Ahh… Duo had temporarily sated his anger.

'Infuriating bastard, now wasn't that original?' Solo was chuckling in his head. Duo chose not to dignify that with a response.

"Can't say anything back to the amazing Duo, can you?" Duo asked, smirking at his opponent. Solo roared with laughter in the back of his head, while Heero's glare intensified.

'He can't really say anything with a gag on, can he?' Damn it, Solo strikes again. This left the score at Solo: more than can be counted, Duo: zero.

Leaning down to Heero's level, Duo proceeded to tell the assassin exactly what he thought of him.

5 Minutes later

"…And if you ever attempt to hurt one of my friend's ever again, I will hunt you down and-"

'Talk him to death?' Solo asked, feigning innocence.

'Whose side are you on, anyways?' Duo mentally shouted at Solo.

"Kill you…" he trailed off, rather lamely. He was off lately. All that time spent with goody-two-shoes like Quatre had destroyed his ability to insult anyone properly.

"Tell me, do you fight like you talk, or has the noble art of warfare been spared the injustice?"

Nervously, Duo glanced around the clearing they had come to. It was rather large, and Duo couldn't see any of the Dragons. Quatre and Trowa had vanished as well, which was surprising since the blonde was not a morning person and it was still well before noon. A weak fire still glowed in the morning sun.

There were only three people in the entire valley: him, Heero, and a mysterious boy, dressed completely in red and gold. He wore his jet-black hair in a tight ponytail. In his right arm was an Eastern style sword.

A katana, if I remember correctly…

In the past, he had only seen a weapon like this once, and he remembered, even now, the sharpness of the blade.

'The only injustice I see is in your poor sense of fashion!" Duo taunted, internally calling to Solo.

"Kisama!" The stranger shouted, waving his katana around. "How dare you insult the noble robes of my people! Injustice!"

Once again, Duo called to Solo, and once again, there was no response. Where is he? Duo wondered. Is he hurt?

"Your little pet cannot reach us here. I daresay he has plenty of company to keep him occupied." The other teenager narrowed black, almond shaped eyes, smirking arrogantly at his opponent. Heero hovered in the background, and Duo eyed him warily. Were he and the 'injustice' boy on the same side?

Seeing the way Heero glared at him, Duo suspected they did not get along. Suddenly, the flame in the fire pit went out, and Duo watched in mixed horror and amazement as Heero's gag and bounds burnt, a bright fire incinerating them, the burnt pieces falling to the ground. Duo was so amazed that he almost missed another phenomena; no smoke floated away from this magical fire.

Slowly standing, Heero flexed his muscles and straightened, rising to his full height, which was rather intimidating despite the fact that he was barely taller than Duo. Something about the way he carried himself made it seem that he was taller than the highest mountain.

"Hey, if you could do that all along, why didn't you try it earlier?" Duo shrieked angrily.

"Hn."

"Yuy, you do realize that I've been sent here to kill you as well. You know better than any one of us that we can't afford to fail missions." Heero gazed emotionlessly at the red-garbed boy.

Duo gazed from boy to boy, slightly perturbed. Drawing his daggers from his sheaths, he stood at the ready, prepared to fight back if it came to that.

The boy lunged, not at Duo but Heero, who leapt to the side, a small cut on his right arm. Duo felt an unreasonable anger swell inside of him. He hated the assassin, but at the same time, Heero had nothing to defend himself with when the other boy attacked. It was not a fair fight! Duo fingered one of his daggers nervously. Should he even the odds?

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Earlier that morning…

Quatre sighed as he unfurled himself from a light blanket. The rising sun had woken him from his peaceful slumber, irritatingly enough. This far down south, winter was more like summer, but the nights were still frigid cold. Stretching, Quatre ran a hand through his hair, catching it on the tangled, oily, blonde hair.

"I need a bath," Quatre sighed, a yawn escaping his mouth.

'There's a stream right outside the clearing, by Middie,' a masculine voice told him. Quatre jumped, temporarily startled.

'Thanks Solo!' Quatre replied in earnest, gathering a change of clothes, a towel, and cleaning supplies for his bath. Glancing over to a sleeping Duo, he noticed that he had wrapped himself around the assassin.

It that had been Duo and anyone else it would be horribly cute. As it is, I do not want to be here when either of them wakes up.

Quatre walked through the lush grass of the clearing, but paused as he passed Middie. He had never thought much about the gift that enabled him to understand what all of the other dragons were saying, even when they tried to block him out, but then again, he had never had anyone to ask. Perhaps Trowa would know?

Luckily, it wasn't that important since it worked at a distance. If he was any further than half a mile away from either Solo or Middie, he couldn't hear them. With Iria though, there were virtually no limitations.

Walking past Middie to the edge of the clearing, he brushed past some of the smaller trees into the forest. There, on the edge of the forest was the small stream, and Quatre could hear the peaceful sound of running water. A small overhang, carved by time, was the only way to get in, and Quatre set all of his belongings there. It was only about a foot higher than the deep stream, so it was the perfect place for a shelf.

Slipping off his dirty clothes, he sank into the cool, clear water. The clear, clean, water came up to his chest. The temperature was perfect, not too warm, but not icy either. Pouring some shampoo into his hair, he scrubbed, rinsing away days worth of dirt and grime. It was so nice to be clean!

This place is so peaceful, he thought contentedly. Closing his eyes, he willed himself not to think, and just enjoy the beautiful weather. The water splashed and rippled with his every movement, gurgling as it traveled downstream, birds hummed and chirped over his head, a symphony of motion in nature.

Shivering slightly, he climbed out of the stream, towel drying his sopping hair. It hung messily over his face, and Quatre attempted to blow his bangs out of his face as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

Holding the towel to make sure that it didn't fall down his slim waist- he didn't want to traumatize the poor innocent animals- Quatre gathered his clothes in an almost dry hand.

Quickly pulling his clothes on, he gazed at his reflection in the quaint little stream as he ran a brush through his hair. The white pants Duo had picked out for him hung to his every curve and crevice, ending at his wicker sandals. A baggy navy blue shirt tucked in to said pants, the short sleeves only covering his shoulders.

Suddenly, another person appeared in his reflection. Quatre jumped, startled, tripped over a root, and fell into the stream. Glaring at the figure in front of him, he shivered. For some reason, the water felt much colder this time around. His clean clothes were soaked, and he had just finished drying off before he fell!

Trowa only held out a hand to him, a tiny smile gracing his normally stoic features.

Oh, he finds this amusing, does he? Mentally, Quatre cackled maniacally, but physically he only gave Trowa a smile so sweet and innocent that if Duo had seen it, he would have run for the hills.

After all, an angelic Quatre was a scheming Quatre, and a scheming Quatre was dangerous.

Taking Trowa's hand in both of his, he tugged as hard as he could. The normally graceful elf toppled into the water, a wonderful look of absolute shock on his face.

Quatre clutched his stomach and held a hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to muffle his giggles. Trowa surfaced, gasping for air, his visible eye wide. His odd hair stuck to one side of his face, and his clothes clung to him like a second skin.

Quatre giggled, wading closer to him. The water rippled from Quatre's movement, along with Trowa falling in. The overlapping ripples distorted the two boys' reflections, mixing them together and pulling them apart before the weak current dragged them away.

Quatre pushed Trowa's hair away, brushing the soggy cinnamon colored mess behind one elfin ear. Quatre's bangs had once again flopped into his face, but he ignored them in favor of Trowa.

Pulling his hand back, Quatre's hand lightly brushed the taller boy's face, and the feeling of his smooth skin sent a surge of electricity through the blonde.

"I'm sorry," Quatre muttered, his gaze still drawn to Trowa.

"For what?" The elf asked, his smooth voice sending shivers down Quatre's spine.

"I don't know…" Quatre blushed, a deep pink, the color of Uetersen roses. They stood in silence for a moment, and Quatre memorized Trowa's face. His deep green eyes were more beautiful than any emerald, thin pink lips pulled up into a tiny, nearly invisible, smile. He had tan skin, and a straight nose. He had high cheekbones, almost feminine, and a strong jaw.

Just as Quatre was finishing his mental recollection, a giant splash hit him straight in the face. Eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing in silence, likening him to a fish, Quatre stared at the stoic elf.

'Someone needed to cool off the fire on your face!' A mischievous sounded, amused. Quatre turned, dripping, to Middie, who had stuck her head into the brush. Apparently, she had used her huge head to splash water on the pair of them, since there was no way the rest of her would fit.

When what she said actually reached Quatre, his blush increased tenfold. Turning away from Trowa, he took deep breath's, concentrating on getting rid of that horrible blush.

Finally, he turned, watching to see Trowa already on the bank, shaking his hair out like a dog. Quatre pulled himself up, squeezing the water out of his once baggy shirt. Un-tucking it in hopes that it might dry faster, Quatre ignored the fact that both the shirt and his pants clung to him like a second skin. It was warm out, and it would only take about an hour before they dried.

Pulling his pack over his shoulder, he walked on squishy sandals back into camp. Setting his things down, he pulled out his scimitars and a leather belt to hang them on. Pulling the belt though the loopholes in his pants, Quatre pushed the scimitars through their straps. Because of their curved shape, they would not fit into sheaths like Duo's daggers.

Rummaging through Duo's pack, he pulled out a few pieces of dried fruit and meat. Chewing on them thoughtfully, he folded his dirty clothes and placed them back in his bag. His fingers paused as they hit cloth pulled tightly over wood.

Slowly and carefully, Quatre pulled out a bulky black case. He hadn't played any music for a long time, and his fingers were itching to play one of his familiar tunes. Duo loved his music, and Quatre sighed, wondering when his friend would wake up.

'We're going hunting,' Iria announced. Quatre merely nodded, stroking the side of Iria's face as she, Solo, and Middie took off into the morning sky.

Quatre's fingers stroked the smooth wood of his violin, wondering when the next time he could play it would be. Sighing, he finished his last piece of fruit, turning to Trowa.

Said elf was leaning against a tree that bordered the clearing. The tree was old and worn, but still beautiful, and it reminded him of Trowa. Elves lived extremely long lives, to the point of being immortal, and Quatre wondered how old Trowa was.

He had probably been alive much longer than Quatre, and he would probably live much longer than Quatre. Walking over to the elf, Quatre sat down, a weak clank resounding where the scimitars hit the wood. And if elves lived that long, how long did dragons live? Would Iria die in a few years, leaving Quatre to outlive her, or would Quatre die on her?

"How long do Dragons live?" Quatre asked, knowing that the silent elf wouldn't be the one to start any conversation.

Trowa leaned back, revealing a long neck, pausing before he answered. "No one knows how long a free dragon lives, but a dragon lives for as long as it's rider."

Quatre's eyes widened. Did that mean Middie was virtually immortal, while Iria only had a few decades left?

"But then they only live for a few decades if they're bound to a human!" Quatre protested, looking to Trowa.

"No, because when a being binds himself to a dragon, he becomes immortal." Quatre paused for a second, trying to digest that information. He was immortal? That was impossible. Humans were never meant to live forever.

"That's impossible," Quatre murmured, his face lowering to the roots of the ancient tree. If he were immortal, he would see so many wars, and so many deaths… No human was meant to do that, and Quatre did not think he could either.

"How old are you?" He asked Trowa, not caring if he were being rude. It really didn't matter right now.

"I'm 93 years old," Trowa answered, his face blank. He was still looking at the leaves of the trees above him, as if Quatre didn't even matter.

"Oh," Quatre sighed, leaning against the tree. Being bound to Iria gave him a lot of power, but with power came responsibility, and Quatre didn't know how to handle that.

"Is Iria the reason why I could do magic?" he asked, remembering the last night, where he had summoned water to help Duo.

Trowa nodded. "Can you teach me how to use that magic?" Quatre asked again, and once again, Trowa nodded.

"Thank you," Quatre told him, pulling him into a friendly hug. He wrapped his arms around Trowa, settling his head on his chest, by his heart.

Abruptly, he felt a sting in his neck, and everything started to become blurry. Turning his head up towards Trowa, he saw that the elf's face was clear among everything else. The elf was supporting him with one arm, and the hand of his other arm held a small, empty dart.

"Shit," Trowa cursed, as Quatre's world started to turn sideways and blur into brown and black. He could hear each thump of Trowa's heart as it beat a fast, frantic rhythm.

Yep, shit seemed to be the right word for this situation. Quatre felt himself slipping from Trowa's grasp, but there was nothing he could do about it. His limbs were weak with sudden fatigue as the world disappeared around him.

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Trowa stopped Quatre from falling, bringing the small dart to his nose and inhaling its vial scent. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Trowa realized that it was a weak poison, commonly used as a sedative. That in itself confused Trowa. Were these people out to kill them?

'Middie,' he called out, pulling himself into the brush and watching as two more darts hit the spot he was just in. There was no reply, but Trowa felt worry and fear from his mental link with her.

Whoever is attacking us had this all planned. Divide and conquer huh?

Slinging Quatre over his shoulder, the one opposite of his arrows, Trowa drew his short sword. There were no footsteps around him, and he could not hear any more darts or arrows. Racing through the forest, Trowa extended his aura, feeling around with magical fingers for anyone strange.

Quickly, Trowa released Heero from his sleep spell, as well as a magic binding spell he had put on him earlier. He would need all of his magic to face his invisible opponents.

When he could not feel anyone around him, he set Quatre down at the base of a tree.

"Despierte!"

Quatre's eyes popped open as he awakened, struggling to his feet.

"Come," Trowa ordered, grasping the sleepy boy by the arm and pulling him along.

"Duo!" Quatre called, now awake. "Where's Duo?" Trowa didn't answer him. Instead, he paused, not budging when Quatre ran into his back, toppling backwards. In front of them was a girl, most likely oriental. She wore her hair in two pigtails, and she was dressed in robes of red and gold silk. Her large almond eyes narrowed at the sight of the two riders. However, she wasn't what stopped Trowa.

Behind her was Dorothy, an elf from the village. Granddaughter to Dermail, an elf who had been exiled because of his lust for war, Dorothy was cruel, and not a good person to make your enemy. Everyone knew her long blonde hair, blue eyes, and forked eyebrows, and she was often in trouble with the elders for starting fights.

In her arms, tied, with tears streaming down her face was Catherine, Trowa's half sister. Her blue eyes pleaded with Trowa to run, but Trowa froze in place, staring at the three of them.

"Trowa Barton, we meet again. Drop your weapons immediately, or sister dearest gets it."

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Heero glared at Wufei, dodging attack after attack. This was hopeless. Using magic was not even plausible unless he broke into Wufei's mind, but prying into Wufei's mind without anything to distract him was like trying to dig through solid rock with a toothpick: not very likely.

"Catch!" The annoying braided baka's voice caught his attention, and he caught the dagger right before it hit him in the head. The dagger was longer than most, and very sharp. Whoever made it was skilled indeed.

Wufei swung at him again, and Heero dodged, returning the attack with a swipe from his new weapon, smirking when he heard it cut through Wufei's flesh. Wufei backed off, clutching his cut arm with an enraged look on his face.

"Why?" Heero turned towards Duo, wondering why the boy chose to give him one of his weapons.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?" Duo asked, smirking. Heero smirked back, and as one, they lunged at their opponent.

Wufei dodged, flipping towards Duo. Heero sliced at his back, distracting the Chinese teen for long enough for the braided boy to regain his footing, and Wufei lunged at him instead. Heero balanced his weight, catching Wufei's katana with his dagger. A kick knocked Wufei to the ground, and Heero turned to see Duo with his leg extended.

A look of shock crossed Wufei's face as he stumbled, and Heero grinned. Closing his eyes, Heero plunged past Wufei's mental barriers into the recesses of his mind. Wufei's memories flashed past his eyes, but Heero ignored them, filtering them and pushing them to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate.

Invading someone's mind in order to predict their moves was common practice in magical duels. If a duelist could break into his opponents mind, he could avoid their strikes and spells. However, what most people didn't know was that the duelist who broke into his advisories mind had to see their memories, relive their lives, and handle a lifetime of pain in an instant. It was enough to drive most men and women insane. For Heero, filtering the memories and ignoring them was child's play.

Wufei got to his feet, glaring at Heero. Right kick, Heero's mind told him, and he stepped backwards, causing Wufei's kick to miss him completely.

He's going to lunge at my left side with his katana, and true to form, Wufei did. Heero dodged it, ramming his elbow into Wufei's back and shoving him to the ground.

Not concentrating on anything else besides Wufei, what move Wufei was going to use next, and filtering Wufei's memories, he ignored Duo's look of stunned shock and Wufei's glare of anger.

Run away, Heero took after Wufei as he ran; preparing to kill him, but strong arms on his shoulders stopped him. He was jerked backwards, and his concentration was destroyed, sending him reeling as he was forced from Wufei's mind.

"Dude, are you OK?" Duo asked him, and Heero realized he must have passed out in the other boy's arms.

Heero nodded, and Duo dropped him on the ground, turning towards the bags in the middle of their campsite. "QUATRE!" He shouted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

"SOLO! QUATRE! IRIA! TROWA! WHERE ARE YOU?" Heero's sensitive ears ached in protest to Duo's loud shouting, and he felt lucky he was not an elf, because they had much better hearing.

"SOLO… QUATRE… SOLO!" Duo dropped to the ground, and Heero could smell tears gathering in Duo's violet eyes. Sighing, he pushed himself off the ground and walked over to the sobbing boy.

"Get away from me!" Duo shouted, shoving Heero to the ground.

Now I'm eating dirt, again.

"I can't." Heero was almost surprised at the admission he had just made. Turning to Duo, he looked into confused, violet eyes.

"You saved my life by giving me a weapon and helping me to fight Wufei. I am obligated by the laws of my tribe to help you in some way. Because of that, I cannot leave your side until my debt to you is repaid."

Duo narrowed his eyes at Heero's explanation. "How will I know when your debt is repaid?" He asked suspiciously.

Grabbing Duo's right hand, he examined the skin on the back of his hand. Usually, the mark was carved into the palm of the receiver's hand, but because Duo was a rider, his dragon already marked his palm.

"This will hurt a little bit," Heero told him. Gathering heat from the air around him, he forced it into the dagger until it was red hot.

"Hey!" Duo exclaimed, "you're crazy if ya think you're touching me with-" he was cut off as Heero sliced the skin of his hand with the dagger. Working quickly, Heero carved the pattern of his tribe into Duo's hand, ignoring the boy's gasps of pain. It was a flame, for the tribe's fire ability, wrapped around a sword, for their strength.

As soon as he finished, an identical pattern formed on the back of his left hand. Heero ignored the pain radiating from his hand, focusing on Duo. The boy was gazing at his hand with steady, if confused, eyes.

As soon as the mark was finished, both wounds healed, leaving only the scars as evidence. Heero took Duo's right hand in his left, forcing the braided boy to face him.

"When the mark on your hand fades, I am out of your debt. Until then, I am bound to you, a servant who must cater to your every need."

Heero handed Duo his dagger, and the teen Rider slipped it into its sheath. Their eyes locked, and Heero dropped Duo's hand. He had a feeling that it was going to take him a long time to repay his debt.

For some reason, gazing into those violet eyes, he did not mind that fact at all.