Disclaimers: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing nor it's characters. It's a loan.

Warnings: Shounen-ai, OOCs, AU (what else do I write?)

Circle of Destiny

Part 8

"What happened?" Trowa asked Wufei tightly, not taking his eyes off the injured man lying in the bed.

Heero was unconscious, his face pale and dotted with perspiration. His breathing was laboured and quite honestly, he looked on death's door. Bloodied rags littered the floor and basins of water coloured the same hue sat near the bed. Sally worked frantically to staunch a horrendous bleeding wound in the young king's side while Quatre sat close to his head, mopping up the perspiration. Duo stood a way apart with an odd expression written across his face. Trowa had neither the time nor the inclination to try to decipher the oft times mercurial slave's many moods.

Wufei hung his head in shame. He had failed to protect his King.

"Answer me," Trowa snapped.

"We had managed to track down the boar we were looking for," Wufei answered, standing stiffly, knowing it wasn't his student he was talking to, it was his Lord as well. He had failed in his duty and now would not be accorded any of the privileges of courtesy. "I was too far away when the boar went crazy after that first spear caught him. His Majesty appeared… distracted and its tusks caught him against a tree. He was thrown into the air before landing on the boars tusks one more time. It was after that we managed to subdue the animal." He took a long shuddering breath. "I am sorry, punish me as you wish."

Trowa exhaled loudly, unsure of what to do. Wufei was not only a teacher to them, he was the closest thing to a father to both of them. Their childhoods had been lonely with only each other as company. Their parents were too mired in court intrigue to bother with the rearing of young children, thus they had run unruly but the appearance of the Swords Master from the East changed that. Wufei had firmly brought them back in line, imparting his sense of honour and justice into them as well as teaching them ways to protect themselves and others so they can live the way they wanted. He was also the one that introduced Trowa to one with the skills of an assassin. Up until then, Trowa had little thoughts of what he wanted to do with his life. He had just imagined staying by his cousin's side all through his life but Wufei had explained the whole concept of hand and glove to the two young nobles. Trowa had been intrigued and volunteered willingly. Heero had been rather uncomfortable about marring his cousin's soul but he too had seen the wisdom in that suggestion. Years later, it would prove to be a wise tactical move that helped secure his position as monarch.

However, if anything were to happen to Heero due to Wufei's mistake, Trowa, as regent would have to punish him, and the usual punishment would be death.

It seemed that Sally came to the same conclusion as well. She threw herself at Trowa's feet, begging for mercy for her husband. "Please, my Lord, don't. He is all that I have left, please."

Quatre threw a look at his brother, who watched the scene rather impassively. It took someone who knew him very well to see that pain and indecision in his eyes when he looked at Heero and seeing him unresponsive. Were all those seemingly malicious pranks all for show? Did his brother care for his master more than he showed?

But as violet eyes flicked toward the stiff Wufei and the crying Sally, Quatre saw something else, compassion, and determination. But what could Duo do? Quatre wasn't able to halt the damage, it had been too extensive. Heero Yuy was dying and there was no two ways about it. With it, there was nothing they could do.

And Wufei would be executed the moment Heero took his last breath.

Heero moaned, arching his back. His hand clenched the soft tick mattress in agony while his head tossed on the feather pillow, as if caught in a nightmare. Duo knew for a fact that it wasn't just the physical hurts that pained Heero. The young king would never be free of his past, the Silver Myst would ensure that. Duo sighed deeply. He knew this day would come. He raised a hand to stop Sally who made to rush back to Heero's side.

"Your Highness?" Sally asked in surprise.

Duo smirked. It was evident that neither Sally, nor the others ever expected him to step forth to help Heero. They hated each other too much. No, he hated Heero too much. He knew there were nights when Heero would stand by his cot and stare down at him, unsure why he was so drawn to the rude, violent slave. Sometimes, he could feel Heero reaching out and playing with the tip of his braid, just like he used to and something in his heart just ached.

"Who are you?" Trowa snapped, clearly at the end of his patience.

Duo ignored him and hunkered next to Heero. He ran a tender hand across the injured man's forehead, brushing back his unruly bang from his sticky skin. Gasps of surprise echoed around the room as Heero settled, unconsciously leaning into Duo's touch.

"So you do remember," Duo murmured softly. He placed his other hand directly on Heero's chest. The life force he remembered so well hovered just below the King's skin. Apparently, it remembered him as well. The light split into five separate Weaves of Fire, Water, Wind, Spirit and Earth. With the ease of a true Master, he tied Heero's Spirit to his body while he forced the rest of his body to heal. Only a Master could heal effectively, the rest weren't able to harness the Spirit Weave well enough and Duo was a Master. He watched impassively as Heero's agonised features slowly relaxed as he receded into an exhausted sleep.

"Ne…fros… sor…ry," was the last thing Duo heard from him as he faded away.

Duo abruptly jerked his hand back, stunned that Heero would actually still remember. Their treasure didn't work that way, it wouldn't retain any memories… would it?

Trowa stumbled forward in shock as he saw Heero's horridly torn flesh close over right before his very eyes. Whatever these people were, they weren't human. No one has ever been able to bring a person back from the edge so flamboyantly as the slave Duo had done. He watched as Heero's laboured breathing eased and his cousin muttered something under his breath. The longhaired slave jerked back, his long tapered fingers lifting from Heero's chest and a bright light erupted in the room. It was blinding and warm as it swept through the enclosed space. After a spell, Trowa was able to see again, albeit a little blurrily.

What he saw took his breath away. Before him were four beings of extreme perfection. They had the faces of the people he knew but they were definitely not human. It was like he was seeing them for the first time. His little blond slave, now not so little, turned to him in surprise, realising he could see them, as in see them. Quatre was his height, damn it. The soft blond hair still framed the smooth skin of his face but the soft boyishness of his features had been eroded with chiselled cheeks and a defined jaw. But most shocking of all were his ears, all of their ears.

It was delicately pointed at the tips.

They were elves.

As the light dissipated, so did the true image of them.

"Now you know," Quatre said softly.

XXxxXX

Heero knew only pain. He also knew he was dying. He had lost concentration on the hunt today. He could only be glad that no one else was hurt besides him. The moment those tusks hit him, he was plunged into darkness and burning agony.

He found himself screaming silently in his unconsciousness, stuck in a never-ending dream, unable to wake.

He was dreaming again, but this time there would be no waking up. He would stand there in that field of blood, the crimson hue soaking into his clothes, enduring the screams and looks of betrayal thrown his way. But what was more painful was that lone figure standing there wrapped in pain, his violet eyes looking at him. This time his face wasn't a blur of features he was used to. This time, in that split instant before his death, the blurriness coalesced into utter clarity. It had to be his obsession with his slave, and the mystery that constantly surrounded him that caused the figure in his dreams to take on Duo's face. However, the accusation faded slowly as Duo offered him his hand.

"I'll make the pain stop," he promised with a sibilant whisper. "Come with me."

Heero huddled in the middle of all that distraction, his arms wrapped securely about himself, feeling lost and trying to stop the emotions that were coursing through him. He caused this, he carved the lines of pain permanently into Duo's face. Wait, he didn't know Duo… how…

"Take my hand, Odin," Duo whispered again, a warm smile shaping his lips.

Cautiously, Heero reached out and firmly grasped the other man's. At that connection, a burst of light filled them. It was a warm, comforting feeling that reminded Heero of being safely wrapped in Duo's arms. He gasped, seeing Duo, no Nefros for what he really was, the fairest elf in all of Silver Myst.

"I'm sorry, Nefros," he murmured, another burst of power and he felt blood congealing at his feet wash away.

Soon, only darkness was left.

XXxxXX

Sally tucked the covers more securely around Duo. She brushed soft tendrils of chestnut brown hair away from a pallid face and sighed deeply. Their identity had been exposed. They were no longer safe here. She flicked a look over at the bed in the middle of the vast room, where the king still lay resting, but totally unconscious. Duo had assured them Heero would live and would awaken when he was ready.

Ready for what?

For some reason, Sally suspected Duo knew exactly what that meant. After a quick check, she had confirmed that Heero was completely healthy, more so than the swaying, pale Duo. Quatre's quick reflexes caught his brother before he hit the floor. They had settled Duo into a cot close to Heero's bed, thus reducing the distance Sally needed to travel to take care of the two of them. While she was sure Heero didn't need much tending; Duo had seen to that, she felt better being close by.

"How is he?" Wufei asked quietly, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He had nearly failed once, he would ensure that whatever harm came to Heero would have to go through his body first.

"Exhausted," Sally informed her mate, still stroking the pale face tenderly.

"Was… that what I think it was?" Wufei asked, awed at the earlier display of mastery.

Sally nodded. "It was what we have been looking for, the Silver Myst. That was the only way our little prince here was able to control it so well."

Wufei's obsidian eyes widened as it swung to the prone figure on the bed and back to Duo. "Heero's the treasure we are looking for?"

"I don't think so," Sally shook her head, her blond braids swinging slightly. "I don't know what is going on here, but I don't think it is Heero. The only thing we can do is wait for our prince to awaken."

The tall dark haired elf inched closer. "What is wrong with him? I thought it would be simple for him to use the Silver Myst."

"Healers are the ones that do all the Healing," Sally explained. "Weavers maintain the balance between magic and nature. You know that. That is all we do. Since he tipped the balance, he is paying for it."

"Then he did it to save Heero?"

Sally shook her head in frustration at her seemingly dense mate. "No, Wufei, he did it to save you," she stopped. "Then maybe, Heero was part of the equation. I don't know. Once again we will have to wait for him to tell us. If he ever."

Wufei crossed his arms in worry. His orders were to find the missing treasure and the two princes and return them back home. It was apparent that he had found all three but there was more to this story than met the eye.

XXxxXX

Trowa sat at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands hanging limply in between his spread legs. His mind was a massive turmoil right now. He had been brought up to believe that tales of the mystical creatures of Silver Myst, the elves were just tales. He also had been told that if he wasn't good, the creatures from the Silver Myst would come out of their forest and eat him.

He threw a surreptitious glance at the blond standing a few feet from him, staring resolutely at the floor. He couldn't believe it, Quatre, his little slave, was an elf. Reflecting on it, he realised that Quatre, without the glamour of human guise, was almost his height. In fact, all of them, Wufei, Sally, Duo, they were all tall and statuesque.

He had always thought Quatre as perfect, but the Quatre he had seen just a while ago was beyond perfect. He wasn't all that angelic either, at least not in the way angels were depicted in churches but more an avenging one.

"Quatre…" He called to the dejected blond.

The slave's head snapped up. "Yes, Lord Trowa?" He seemed excited, willing to please.

Trowa held out his hand, offering it silently. He watched as the hesitant blond inch forward and cautiously took his hand. It was as if Quatre feared some sort of retribution. Then it struck him, slaves were to be truthful at all times. If they were caught lying, their masters had the right to punish them, usually severely.

"Come here," he patted the empty space next to him with his free hand. Once Quatre was seated gingerly next to him, their hands loosely clasped. "I'm not going to punish you."

The trust in Quatre's beautiful eyes was heartbreaking. "Really Mast… Lord Trowa?" His wide aquamarine orbs gazed happily into Trowa's. "Because I really didn't mean to do it, we had to choice, if we didn't we would be hunted down. Everyone wants elves and we are looking for the Silver Myst and if we find it we can go home and we can be happy again, and Duo won't have to be tortured like he did. Father would forgive him I am sure an…" He blinked at an open mouthed Trowa. "What?"

"I have never seen you talk that fast, or that much." Trowa laughed softly. Somehow, he knew he was seeing the real person, no elf, beneath the ravage of slavery. Unable to help himself, he reached out to cup Quatre's soft cheek, his thumb idly caressing the well defined cheekbone. His mind made a leap to earlier, before they were interrupted and dwelled on the kiss they shared. It was mind blowing, explosive and something he had been fantasising about for the past few weeks.

Like his stoic, almost emotionless cousin, he didn't believe in love, much less love at first site, and definitely not with a man. But this little thing staring up at him with such an innocent expression had grabbed his heart at the very first meeting at the slavers. It had taken him so long to admit to himself it wasn't more than lust. And even then, he was afraid to say anything. It was a taboo for master and slave to love each other.

His mind stuttered to a stop. Did he just admit to loving Quatre? He felt his breath coming in panicked gasps. He can't be in love with Quatre, how long have they known each other? And he just found out today they weren't even the same species! He was an assassin, he can't afford to love, he mustn't, he…

"Trowa?" Quatre asked, holding the taller man's shoulder in a tight grasp. "What's wrong?" He cupped his master's face, forcing Trowa to look into his face. "You have to calm down. Breathe." He ordered Trowa to inhale and exhale mechanically.

Soon after, the tall auburn haired man calmed considerably but found himself seeing stars. He was honestly embarrassed. He had never suffered a panic attack before, even when faced with a hard kill but to be reduced to a gasping pile in front of a blond seemingly ball of fluff was unacceptable. What would his teacher think of him now? He came back to himself with the pleasant feel of Quatre's firm hand rubbing his back, urging him to slow his breathing.

"Thank you," Trowa muttered with faint embarrassment.

"What happened, Lord Trowa?" Quatre asked, concerned. His master had turned white and now pink in turns. While he found it amusingly adorable, he could see that something was wrong.

Trowa shrugged. "Nothing, I've never had a panic attack before."

"A panic attack!" Quatre gaped. The silent man before him had a panic attack? What brought that on?

Trowa ducked his head. "Yes, it's not everyday you realise you have fallen in love with an elf you know…" Belatedly realising what he had just said, Trowa clamped his hands over his mouth, horrified. Carefully, he stole a glance at Quatre who had the most beautiful look of stunned surprise on his face. His eyes told Trowa everything, the joy, the elation, the wonder.

"You what?" The blond stuttered. "You could love something like me?"

"You're not something, you're an elf," Trowa reassured, needing desperately to get the look of overwhelming sadness from his slave, no his love's eyes.

Quatre shook his head, downcast. "I meant a pleasure slave." He picked at his tunic nervously.

Trowa lifted Quatre's head with two firm fingers under his chin. "No, Quatre, you're a Prince apparently, a Prince of Elves. You are no one's pleasure slave." He searched those aquamarine orbs anxiously, willing the fragile creature before him to believe. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in and carefully touched his lips to Quatre's. He had kissed many people before, but kissing Quatre was completely different. This was the first person he wanted to impress, this first person that he wanted to love him back. And this was the first person who pressed himself ardently back at him, trying to give him the love he felt, desperately asking to be loved.

"Please, Trowa," Quatre moaned. "Don't turn me away again."

With a soft tug, Trowa fell onto his back, pulling Quatre on top of him. "Never, little one, never again." Hmm, perhaps 'little one' was a wrong term of endearment since he was sure Quatre was able to pin him to the ground with little effort. But it did his ego good that Quatre, in human form, was smaller than him.

It was as if their bodies had a mind of their own as a flurry of limbs extracted clothes off each other and soon, their bare skin were in tantalising contact with each other. Frantic kisses were exchanged as they explored each other's body with alarming intensity. Trowa was afraid of hurting Quatre but his little blond elf lover gave him no opportunity for being gentle as he arched into Trowa urgently.

Trowa felt the blood pounding furiously in his head as he body reacted to the writhing of Quatre's lithe limbs and the pleasured moan issued with each burning thrust of his hips. This wasn't just pleasure, this was utter bliss. He wondered if this was what heaven felt like. Completion came explosively for both of them, bathing each other with heat. Ignoring the wet stickiness that coated them both, Trowa gathered the limp slave into his arms, smiling at the low purr that was being emitted from him.

He dropped a kiss on Quatre's sweaty forehead. "I love you, my elf."

Quatre's head came up, bumping his new lover's chin. "Don't ever say something like that, Trowa. Not here. Elves have been hunted for centuries now. Everyone wants an elf for a slave."

Trowa sighed, hugging his shaking lover closer. "I know, I'm sorry, but I was just teasing." Suddenly, realising something, he pulled slightly away to stare down at Quatre. "Just how many of you are there in the castle?"

"Don't worry," Quatre hedged. "We have found what we needed to find. We would be leaving soon." His heart nearly broke when he realised he was going to leave his master, his Trowa behind. But this was what has to be done. They needed to bring home the Silver Myst before all was destroyed.

The lord pulled Quatre even tighter to him, not ever wanting to let him go. Quatre won't ever leave him, he could never bear that.

Ever.

XXxxXX

Heero knew he was asleep.

However, he had been wandering in the darkness for some time now. He had been feeling a comforting presence beside him, but it refused to reveal itself.

Far ahead he saw a soft glow and a door. He had seen it once, a long time ago when he was very sick. He had wanted to see what was behind that door but something had barred his way. This time, nothing would stop him.

"No, Heero, stop," a soft voice he recognised as Duo, Nefros, or whoever stopped him. "Come back, don't go through that."

Heero turned defiantly in the darkness, finally realising who was with him. "No, I need to find out why you hate me." Flinging off unseen arms around him, Heero fled to the door and threw it open. Bright lights filled his vision as he went tumbling through that door.

"Are you even listening to me, Odin?" A harsh voice cut filled his ears and he felt a sharp rap on the head.

Odin? Who was Odin? His memories adjusted, the hole within it filled with missing pieces, long lost details.

Yes, he was Odin, Odin Lowe, eldest son of the Duke of Kyrin.

"We need to find the treasure of the Silver Myst as a bride price for Lady Cardiff as decreed in the marriage contract!" His father, the Duke admonished him sharply for his inattentiveness. "You are going to the Silver Myst to find it."

Silver Myst, yes, that was where it all started.

"Bring back an elf or two," the Duke leered. "They would make excellent slaves."

Tbc

The names were found through a Middle Earth name generator and I picked the one that was the least stupid. I can't really remember what combination of Duo Maxwell I used to come up with 'Nefros'.