Gundam SEED Fan Fiction ❯ The Story of morphing titles. ❯ Why vampires are allergic to Oreos. The story that has nothing to do with Oreos or vampires. ( Chapter 1 )

The kingdom of Whitesnow was a visually stunning image. With long snow-capped mountains painting a freshness of chilly wind across its back and the wide expanse of heavy forest hefting the soft scent of pine into even the darkest of streets, it was easy to see why people would want to live in such a place. Given to the fact that Whitesnow was also in the middle of the trade-route between the floating city of Asriath and the sea city of Bluesalt, it was an ideal location for merchants and peasants out to make their fortunes alike. A prosperous merchant guild controlled most of the shipments and the government was elected in a somewhat democratic manner by the noble citizens. The land was rich and fertile and yielded crops to make farmers cry with glee.

 

Kira's and Cagalli's father, Uzumi Hibiki used to live with his two children and his wife in Bluesalt until the plague came to the city and Uzumi's wife passed away. Then his business had intensified, he organized pack-trains to and from the other two cities and was often gone on such trips while the two children grew up.

 

Cagalli, Uzumi's daughter, was quick to turn into a streetwise girl, signing up with local gangs and playing hockey with the less than reputable faces of the city. Kira, on the other hand, got himself a job with the local bread store and earned a little extra money for their devastated family to live on.

 

That was until Uzumi had a heart-attack and died. Cagalli and Kira couldn't keep paying the taxes for their house and very quickly they were thrown out and onto the streets. Cagalli went to live with other street-rats while Kira ended up drowning his troubles in a flagon of wine. The flagon ended up on the inside of a cell when he started a bar-brawl. Sentenced to the overly harsh punishment of slavedom for a year Kira was quickly locked in a wagon and carted away.

 

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Why Vampires Are Allergic to Oreos. The story that has nothing to do with Vampires or Oreos.

 

~ By Sweetdeily.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

 

Warning: Yaoi, Mwu La Fllaga/Kira, Athrun/Kira, lemon. AU in case you couldn't tell. Oh, and SOMEONE WILL DIE. (I didn't say that was a bad thing,)

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The young slave had red rings around his wrist. He was allergic to the iron in his shackles, but no one really cared if the bloody marks scarred. He was a slave for the next year of his life, longer, if the officials were to change over mid-term and loose his documentation. Kira sighed, lavender eyes closing in defeat. He needed to learn how to hold his alcohol. He didn't even remember what had started the brawl; one minute he was holding a one-sided conversation with his glass, the next he woke up in a cell with a headache to kill a man and a sour taste in his mouth.

 

And here he was; wrists rubbed raw, ankles bleeding from scabs, thin and hungry. And that sour taste in his mouth still hadn't left him.

 

The wagon rocked on. They'd been journeying for days now, without much rest. The pack-train had stopped only once for camp and as a result Kira had inhaled smoke until he coughed. He'd been downwind of the camp-fire. He hadn't washed in a week and the little wagon he shared with three other slaves smelt of human excrement and fleas. Yes, fleas smell.

 

Kira tried to think what could possibly make his life any worse. He was pretty sure he couldn't think of anything more that could -possibly- make things harder for him. Short of contracting leprosy, things, Kira was sure, had hit the bottom of the barrel. There was only up to go after that.

 

He was wrong.

 

Just as the wagon rounded the next corner the scout came screaming down the hill, feet scrambling hastily over loose rocks. The sky behind him slowly became black, and at first Kira wondered if it were a storm cloud, but no, this was no cloud; for one thing, it was moving too fast, for another, clouds didn't glint in the light.

 

A rain of arrows followed the scout and screams broke out among the camp. The scout hadn't made it down the ridge; he was laying face-down in the dirt, a porcupine. It was a bad way to die.

 

Kira could see other arrows raining down on the pack-leaders and the caravan guards, a few surprised men went down and several cried out as they were struck in their limbs with shafts. The slaves shuffled nervously in their cage, arrows struck the top of the caravan, the steady beat of `thunk, thunk, thunk' echoing on other wooden roofs

 

One of his fellow slaves, Flay, a pretty girl leaning too close to the edge of the cage got an arrow in her eye and fell down screaming. It wasn't imbedded deeply enough to kill. But it was obviously agonizing, she clutched at the shaft, screeching in agony.

 

Then, while the caravan was in chaos, the raiders came. Their mismatched horses trampled up over the edge of the ridge, the sudden roar of blood lust bellowing from three dozen throats all in union. They were a motley bunch at best, but their blades were sharp and their formation was well organized.

 

Kira swallowed back his terrified pulse and began to pray to as many gods as he could name in a single breathe.

 

What was left of the caravan guards fell back, they were in utter disarray; men spread out on all sides. The captain had taken three arrows through him; the steady flow of blood under his body was a good indicator of when he would be getting back up. Kira bet on never. The lieutenants were looking around nervously, probably considering abandoning their posts.

 

The slave caravan rocked back and forward as the other six occupants panicked, running first to one side and then another, screaming out for help from the confused guards.

 

Kira was crushed against the bars as his fellow slaves desperately cried out to be saved from the blades of the raiders.

 

Just before the caravan tipped onto its side, Kira saw the flash of blades being drawn from scabbards and heard the mighty roar of the high-way raiders as they descended the ridge.

 

And then he was falling.

 

Falling, falling down, only to slam into someone and then be knocked backwards. The iron chains of someone else's ankle shackles were rapped around his neck and then painfully yanked backwards. Kira almost swallowed his own tongue, hands grasping at the thick metal rings for some kind of release. The pile of people under him moved and slipped and Kira's straining feet managed to catch on the cage bars, giving him a little leverage so he wasn't choking. He tried to pull the noose off, but the chain had knotted behind his head, it would only be coming loose if his head came with it from this angle. Dust rolled up and around the toppled caravan and Kira choked on that too.

 

The rushing of blood died in his ears and the boy could hear the desperate, mournful screams of the caravan guard being massacred outside. The sickly sweet sounds of metal slicing through pliable flesh met his ears, the soft, desperate sobs of someone under him, being crushed by all those above them.

 

Kira's wild lavender eyes darted around, looking for any kind of help, below him he saw Flay; the falling people had smashed the arrow so deeply into her skull that he could see the shiny metal tip protruding from her head. Her remaining features were eternally frozen in a contorted expression of inexplicable agony. Even if the initial blow hadn't killed her, she was surely dead now, little pink pieces of brain were leaking out of the hole from where the arrow had come out.

 

His foot slipped on the bar and the slave boy had a maddening second of pure terror as he dangled, suspended by his neck from the chains for a long moment, feet desperately thrashing to get a placing on the bars once more. After a minute of choking and the slow reddening of his face Kira's foot met solid metal and he caught the foothold once more. His eyes were watering from pain, but he dared not raise his hands the wipe the tears away.

 

The grating sound of the cage door opening caught his attention and Kira turned his bloodshot eyes to the entryway. A cobalt haired teen looking around Kira's own age stood staring at the strangling slave, a blood splattered scimitar in one hand and the slave keys in the other.

 

Kira tried to gargle out the words `please don't kill me,” but he got out the first syllable before a coughing fit took him. The world went a pinkish color and he fought not to sway in his death-trap. Swaying would be -very- bad.

 

When the world finally cleared the cobalt raider was no longer at the door, he was advancing on Kira's trapped form.

 

Kira tried to swallow and beg for mercy, but he couldn't get out anything but a few choking sobs. His eyes were tearing again.

 

The boy was getting dangerously close now and Kira could see the small pieces of sliced flesh flapping off the blade. He pulled one of his hands from the chain around his neck to ward off the blow he was sure was coming but ended up over-balancing himself.

 

Kira's foot slipped. His neck pulled back and his arm flailed wildly, flapping around as if Kira thought it would find something to help. His other hand got trapped in the coils as well, which only seemed to tighten the noose. He couldn't seem to move his feet enough to find his perch on the corner of the bars. Little grey dots ate away at his vision.

 

Then suddenly he was falling and his neck was released and air rushed back into his lungs and his brain and he stumbled on the ground, something smacking hard against his head.

 

He lay there for a minute or two, relearning the beauty of breathing. He'd never thought it was such a complex action before. There was no sound save for his hyperventilating for a while, until finally; Kira looked up at the high-way raider who had saved his life.

 

The boy said nothing, merely stared down at Kira in kind.

 

Kira burned the boy's features into his mind; a prominent nose, aquatic blue eyes, pale white skin, sharp pointy ears, thin lips. Kira's eyes focused on the ears. He'd never seen a person with ears like that. He wasn't sure what they were supposed to compare to. Shaped long, like rabbit ears, but pointed and sharp like wolf ears. And they were made of skin, not hair. The ears quivered slightly, as if they could tell they were being stared at and Kira's gaze drifted back to the boy, bringing all of the boy's features back into focus.

 

They were silent for a while longer until a shrill whistle split the air.

 

The boy turned like lightening to the opening of the cage and raced out without another word.

 

Kira sat in the upturned caravan for a while longer, still in shock. The sounds of yelling came from outside and then the trumpeting of a horn. There were screams and more yelling before Kira saw a man run past him dressed in the royal blues of the kingdom's knights.

 

The cavalry, as the saying went, had arrived. Too late to save most of the lives that had been slaughtered in the robber's attack.

 

A tall, blonde man stopped by Kira's caravan and looked down at the slave.

 

“You there, tell me what happened here.”

 

Kira stood and crawled out of the wreckage, wincing slightly as his manacles scraped his bloodied wounds. “We were attacked, sir, by highway men, I believe.” He rubbed his throat as he coughed the words out.

 

The blonde gave Kira a closer look over, a gloved hand rising to lift Kira's face slightly. “And what's your name, slave?”

 

“Kira, sir, Kira Hibiki.”

 

“What happened to the slave caravan?”

 

“The others panicked and flipped it over.”

 

“And you were the only one who remained unharmed?”

 

“No sir, I was caught in the fall as well, I would have choked to death were it not for… I managed to get out of the noose.” Kira wasn't sure why, but he thought maybe it would be wise to keep his rescuer to himself. He didn't want to be suspected of treason just because someone helped him.

 

“I see. What about these wounds on your hands?” The blonde man asked.

 

Kira took a better look at this soldier. He had the clean, starched uniform of a rich merchant, and he held himself with a slightly cocky stance to his shoulders, indicating that he was a noble indeed. His eyes were a sky blue, his short, blonde hair bordered on brown and he had dimples on the sides of his mouth that meant he smiled a lot. He gave Kira the nice vibe. This was the kind of person who understood and accepted the world around him

 

“I'm allergic to iron. The chains are what caused these wounds.”

 

“Well that's no good. We should take them off. Do you know where the guard is with the keys?”

 

“No sir. I am sorry.”

 

“Don't worry. I will help you out. Anything for a cute face.” And then Kira winced as his cheek was pinched. He managed to pull a smile anyway. This man was obviously a teaser.

 

“Sai! Take this slave to my horse, and see if you can't get the manacles off him.” The blonde called out to the pack of guards behind him. A brown haired boy saluted and ran over, taking Kira by the elbow.

 

Kira allowed himself to be led over to the cluster of soldiers who had yet to dismount. The horses were slathered in sweat, evidently, they'd double-timed the poor creatures in an effort to get there quicker. A few of the younger knights were feeding the animals water from the caravans and collecting the dead and injured from the caravan guard.

 

Sai showed Kira to a palomino horse. (A/N: I know nothing about horses so if I spelt it wrong, sorry!)

 

“This is Commander Mwu's horse, just wait here while I look for the keys to your manacles. Honestly, and I thought slaves were treated better from Bluesalt.”

 

“Commander Mwu?”

 

“Yes, the knight who was questioning you. He's the leader of the royal knights in Whitesnow. Although he would have liked to just stay a captain, the guilds had to promote him or it would seem unfavorable. Everyone in the city loves him. He's a very kind man. Even taking off your manacles, that's normally against the law. Heh, don't run away, or we'll have to kill you.” Sai joked.

 

Kira didn't find that funny for some reason.

 

Sai was still grinning when he called some other officers over to help him get the manacles off. They ended up using a lock-pick; apparently it was standard issue for the guards, just in case they had to unlock doors in order to catch villains.

 

The manacles came loose and fell to the ground, Kira's wrists bled openly now, the teen could see the small bumps and clear-liquid puss that had rubbed up on them. He rubbed his wrists sorely until Sai managed to snatch Kira's hands and bind the wrists with bandages.

 

They proceeded to follow suit with Kira's ankles, leaving the teen feeling free and light as a feather. He gave his gratitude to all the soldiers who helped, unsure of how else to express his thanks expect with words.

 

Commander Mwu was coming back now and he smiled as he saw Kira exchanging words with his men, cupping a hand under the slave's chin and raising Kira's face up for inspection. Kira blinked his big lavender eyes at the man.

 

“That looks better. I hate to see a cute boy in pain.”

 

A shout went up from a group of the caravan's survivors and a fat, sweaty man waddled his way out of the wounded. He had a greasy goatee and his hair was a slimy black. Kira knew the man as the slave trader who had taken the caravan to Whitesnow. “Commander! I thank you for your work, but that's a slave you're handled. Top quality product too.”

 

Mwu smiled, releasing Kira slowly. “Oh, do excuse my manners, good trader. I thought that I would acquire a reward for my services, but if you would rather pay the guild in coinage. I do believe the going rate is a few thousand sacren.”

 

“But… you're the royal guard!” The trader gabbled.

 

“I know, it does tend to double the price.” Mwu rolled his thumb over his forefingers, hiding a smile behind his hands.

 

“But… but he's one of mine to sell!”

 

“Oh, don't think I'd try to rob you, dear sir! No, in fact my guards would attest that it is I who am being robbed. Look at such a measly slave-”

 

Kira looked down at himself; well, okay, he wasn't very clean and he hadn't eaten a proper meal in a while, but he didn't thin he looked `measly'.

 

“-he's hardly worth a hundred sacren, what, with shriveled muscles, and the smell alone, I would pay a full ten sacren to be rid of it. I am sure my men would agree. You'd be laughing mad not to take such a deal. But I understand, a trader has his dues to pay.”

 

Kira felt himself being pushed toward the slimy man and dearly wished the commander wouldn't use him to manipulate the fat man so much. It was easy to see the logic slowly ticking away on the trader's face; Kira would make a hundred sacren, probably less, for selling, while the debt he'd face paying the guild would be something around the two-thousand sacren mark. That was a large coin difference. It was the matter of losing a single slave, or losing the prophet of ten slaves.

 

The trader made his choice. “Take him, what do I care. I have no ill ease toward the guild, to smite at them such.” He waved his hand away.

 

Kira blinked. Mwu had one the bluff.

 

Mwu laughed and clapped Kira on the shoulder once the trader was out of earshot. “Well, there you go, boy.”

 

Kira smiled. “Thank you, master Mwu.”

 

“Call me Mwu. I'm not some fancy noble who needs to be separated through words from the people.”

 

They mounted the horses, Kira was helped into position behind his new master, clutching at Mwu's waist as the royal guard moved out.

 

 

 

~ To Be Continued…

 

 

Sweet notes: Ack! I got distracted from writing this, or it would have been up sooner. This marks the beginning of my `no more kiddy anime' streak. Ohhhhhhhhhh…. Reviews?