Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Enslaving the Heart ❯ Looking Through Glass ( Chapter 10 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Violet_Nyte 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.06.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 330 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.06.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 330 | Status: Work In Progress
LSE // 10-6-02
(Enslaving the Heart - Chapter Ten: Looking Through Glass)
rated: R - language, content, violence
shounen-ai/extreme AU
Looking Through Glass
Before the first rays of dawn could stretch through the curtains to
dance across his face, Wufei was awake and orientating himself. In the
quiet of the early morning, he listened to sound of Trieze's soft,
regular breathing. The slave master still slept, giving Wufei precious
time to slide out from the bed and enjoy a few moments to himself.
Dressing quickly, he kept one eye cautiously on Trieze and focused the
other eye inward in meditation. The practice was forbidden by Trieze,
the simple act being perceived as a tie to the Old ways, the ways of
the Wilds. As soon as the slumbering man showed the barest signs of
waking, Wufei leapt to his feet and slipped out into the predawn light.
The walk was a peaceful one, for most of the manor still slept, the
only souls awake being himself and the kitchen staff. It was there
that he went, carrying a single bucket to fill with hot water. He
always enjoyed the warmth and cheer of the kitchen, where the slaves
worked hard but were spared the whip.
Mistress Holt ignored him as she always did, pretending she didn't see
him taking some of her heated water. As always, his visit to kitchen
was over before the chill could empty from his bones, and he was once
more out into the semidarkness. Trieze's quarters were attached into
the back of the main house, nestled into the corner of the ground
floor.
Trieze was gone from the bed when Wufei arrived, the man no doubt gone
to wake the field hands and line them up for the day's work. He knew
he should go supervise the textile workers, but he hesitated in the
relative calm of the empty room. This was his time, however short it
might be.
He longed for a mirror of some sort to check his face, for he was sure
there was some mark upon it. Gingerly, closed and opened his left eye,
feeling the swollen flesh protest. Unfortunate to have a black eye,
especially since everyone would know where it came from. Usually
Trieze was mindful enough not to leave marks.
Wufei sighed and set the bucket of water down, looking out at the
quiet manor just beginning to stir into life. Since Trieze wasn't
around to need it, Wufei used the steaming water to wash his hands and
face. Sharp eyes watched the water move around his fingers, a mind
trained for years on the Old ways instantly seeing the beauty and
serenity contained within the simple movement.
The Old ways are gone, he reminded himself sternly. The Wilds are no
longer my home. Wufei looked about the small room with eyes weighed
with sadness, briefly allowing his careful guard to drop as he
shuddered with sudden clarity. This was home.
------------------------------------------------------------ -----------
"That's the third pan you've dropped this morning," Sarilyn muttered
accusingly, breaking her rhythm to glare daggers at her assistant
washer. "You're likely to break one."
Heero gave a noncommittal response and fetched the fallen dish in
question, "No harm done."
Sarilyn gave an angry sigh and took back up her ceaseless scrubbing.
At this rate, he'd be likely to do her more harm than good. Suddenly,
having an extra set of hands didn't have the appeal it did yesterday.
For his part, Heero wasn't really trying to do badly, he just couldn't
seem to get his fingers to cooperate. The fire had spread across his
back and down through his arms, slightly numbing usually nimble digits.
With Trieze sulking around, Duo had never gotten around to scrubbing
all the mud away. Heero gave a slight shrug of one shoulder as a test
and nearly dropped the plate he was washing.
"If you've chipped that plate it's all your fault," Sarilyn warned a
while later, looking up to watch the rogue dish rolling away from
Heero's pile and making a brave run for freedom. She watched with a
calculating eye as he labored up to his feet and gave chase to the
rolling plate.
When he'd settled back down with the retrieved dish, Sarilyn warily
checked it for damage before adding it wordlessly to her stack. "It'll
have to be washed again."
Heero looked up at the accusatory tone in her voice and debated making
excuses, but found he lacked the will or energy. Let her glare at me,
he said to himself.
Mercifully, he made it to the lunch break without any more mistakes.
Sarilyn kept working, and Heero felt a twinge of guilt that she was
trying to make up for him. She managed well enough without my help
before, he rationalized, eliminating the guilt and going in search of
his lunch.
Lunch consisted of beef stew, which seemed to be the staple of the
house slave's diet. He wondered what the field hand's ate, if they ate
at all. Which led him to think about amethyst eyes and chestnut...
"Heero!" called a cheerful voice, dragging Heero's attention out of
memories and into reality. For brief a moment, he couldn't place a
name to the brightly smiling face.
"Quatre," he said, words slightly inclined in question.
The boy nodded enthusiastically and motioned for Heero to sit in the
empty spot across from him. Heero met the exposed emerald hue of the
boy's friend, Trowa, and tried to banish the image the boy sitting
naked in Relena's bathtub. Relena... Heero's eyes narrowed
instinctively, causing Quatre to look confused for a moment.
"Oh, does your back pain you?" Quatre asked at last, bit of triumph
crossing his face at having puzzled out what he thought to be the
cause of Heero's sudden glare.
Since accepting the excuse so conveniently given to him was preferable
to explaining anything, Heero nodded once and took up his spoon.
"I think you were amazingly brave," Quatre said with honest
admiration, "wasn't he, Trowa?"
Trowa's lips twitched slightly into a brief smile, seeing for a moment
the sight of Relena drenched from head to foot and looking brilliantly
stunned. He wished he'd thought of doing that. Trowa nodded slightly,
eyes meeting Heero's to exchange a small shard of understanding.
"If the pain gets to be too bad I'm sure you can see Mistress Po about
it. She's forever fixing little scraps and bumps among us. Trowa.
Trowa, what was the name of that boy a while back, who broke his leg?
Mistress Po set it right all fine and now you can't even tell he broke
it at all! Trowa, what was the name?" the small blonde turned his head
up to his companion, sea green eyes shining brightly.
"Werin."
"Werin, that's right. Does he still mind the stallions, or have they
moved him on to gentle fare?"
"Sold, actually. A month or two ago."
"Oh," Quatre's face fell slightly and he sat quietly for a minute,
thoughtfully chewing on the near tasteless stew. "Well, Mistress Po
did do a fine job of it. Do you know where to find her? She's in the
little house behind the main house, right there beside Madame Noin."
Heero nodded absently, only half listening to Quatre's cheerily voice
as the boy rambled on with pleasantries and nothings. He was
distracted by the hint of nobility lingering within the boy's bubbling
speech, a puzzling attribute for a violin-playing house slave.
"I better get back to the kitchens," Heero said during a break in the
conversation, which was mostly one sided anyway.
"Take care," Quatre politely, but Heero was surprised to find a ring
of sincerity within the tone. Strange people, all of them.
As he made his way back to the kitchens, Heero was unaware of chilled
blue eyes carefully watching his progress from the window. Hearing
footsteps in the antechamber, Relena stepped away from the glass and
let the curtains fall back. She resumed her spot settled into the
stuffed chair there beside the window and picked back up her sewing,
carefully adding another stitch to the embroidery.
"Good afternoon, milady," Noin said with a bright smile as she entered
with a flurry of self-importance.
Relena added two more stitches before setting the piece aside and
folding her hands in her lap, giving Noin a pleasant enough smile in
return. The woman looked momentarily puzzled before crossing the pace
between them and offering out the sealed letter in her hand, "Another
letter from your brother, isn't that odd?"
"He must have sent them out right after another," Relena mused aloud
as she took the letter from Noin. Sliding a thumb under the seal she
snapped the wax and carefully opened it, skimming over her brother's
neat, scholarly script. "Oh!" she exclaimed, causing Noin to fiddle
with her sleeves with impatience.
"It seems my brother will be joining us sooner than thought! Oh, my,
however will I get the manor in proper shape with only a fortnight's
notice?" Relena tried to be angry with Millard, but excitement at
seeing him again overruled any minor distress.
"A fortnight? Does milord say why?"
Her mistress smiled brightly and stood from her chair, waving the
letter before Noin teasingly, "Why, yes he does say why. But is it any
business of yours?" Relena laughed, moving away from Noin and towards
the door, "He's in Serrai right now waiting for a ship to take him
here. He must have mailed the letter as soon as he arrived. I wish I
could write to ask for some lace..."
"I'm sure milord will bring you very nice gifts from his travels."
"No one sleeps until the manor is perfect. I want the wood polished,
the carpets beaten and the whole house scrubbed, top to bottom. I want
new clothes for all the slaves, but don't give them out yet or else
they'll be ruined. Millard says he'll be here on the twenty-seventh,
so we'll have a grand ball that Saturday..." Relena's voice faded as
she moved from room to room, listing off everything that needed to be
done. A sparkling glint came into her chilled eyes, warming them and,
for a moment, she looked like a normal girl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*End*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: hmm, rather uneventful chapter... *sigh* Sorry I could
only get the one out this weekend. My new computer's completely up and
running now, including a new monitor (I can SEE!) and keyboard.
Hopefully I'll get use to the new keyboard and stop making so many
typos. This story's lacking a beta, so there's nothing save me and my
spell check to prevent idiotic mistakes. -_- uber-gomen, I hope the
typos don't distract from the story too much...
Yikes, chapter ten and I haven't even gotten into the actual plot.
woo... this is gonna be kinda lengthy. O_o Fortunately I already have
some understanding of where the story's going, it's just hard to move
it along fast enough. The muses won't let me rush this. Damn them.
Okay, so hopefully you won't have to wait until next Sunday to get a
new chapter! O_o Take care.
Feedback/reviews are very much appreciated! More chapters soon.
copyright 2002 - Gundam Wing and characters copyright other people.
LSE - "Violet" (ManzokuBiscuit@aol.com)
Email me to join my Update ML (be alerted when I add new stories)
www.geocities.com/manzokubiscuit/index.html
(Enslaving the Heart - Chapter Ten: Looking Through Glass)
rated: R - language, content, violence
shounen-ai/extreme AU
Looking Through Glass
Before the first rays of dawn could stretch through the curtains to
dance across his face, Wufei was awake and orientating himself. In the
quiet of the early morning, he listened to sound of Trieze's soft,
regular breathing. The slave master still slept, giving Wufei precious
time to slide out from the bed and enjoy a few moments to himself.
Dressing quickly, he kept one eye cautiously on Trieze and focused the
other eye inward in meditation. The practice was forbidden by Trieze,
the simple act being perceived as a tie to the Old ways, the ways of
the Wilds. As soon as the slumbering man showed the barest signs of
waking, Wufei leapt to his feet and slipped out into the predawn light.
The walk was a peaceful one, for most of the manor still slept, the
only souls awake being himself and the kitchen staff. It was there
that he went, carrying a single bucket to fill with hot water. He
always enjoyed the warmth and cheer of the kitchen, where the slaves
worked hard but were spared the whip.
Mistress Holt ignored him as she always did, pretending she didn't see
him taking some of her heated water. As always, his visit to kitchen
was over before the chill could empty from his bones, and he was once
more out into the semidarkness. Trieze's quarters were attached into
the back of the main house, nestled into the corner of the ground
floor.
Trieze was gone from the bed when Wufei arrived, the man no doubt gone
to wake the field hands and line them up for the day's work. He knew
he should go supervise the textile workers, but he hesitated in the
relative calm of the empty room. This was his time, however short it
might be.
He longed for a mirror of some sort to check his face, for he was sure
there was some mark upon it. Gingerly, closed and opened his left eye,
feeling the swollen flesh protest. Unfortunate to have a black eye,
especially since everyone would know where it came from. Usually
Trieze was mindful enough not to leave marks.
Wufei sighed and set the bucket of water down, looking out at the
quiet manor just beginning to stir into life. Since Trieze wasn't
around to need it, Wufei used the steaming water to wash his hands and
face. Sharp eyes watched the water move around his fingers, a mind
trained for years on the Old ways instantly seeing the beauty and
serenity contained within the simple movement.
The Old ways are gone, he reminded himself sternly. The Wilds are no
longer my home. Wufei looked about the small room with eyes weighed
with sadness, briefly allowing his careful guard to drop as he
shuddered with sudden clarity. This was home.
------------------------------------------------------------ -----------
"That's the third pan you've dropped this morning," Sarilyn muttered
accusingly, breaking her rhythm to glare daggers at her assistant
washer. "You're likely to break one."
Heero gave a noncommittal response and fetched the fallen dish in
question, "No harm done."
Sarilyn gave an angry sigh and took back up her ceaseless scrubbing.
At this rate, he'd be likely to do her more harm than good. Suddenly,
having an extra set of hands didn't have the appeal it did yesterday.
For his part, Heero wasn't really trying to do badly, he just couldn't
seem to get his fingers to cooperate. The fire had spread across his
back and down through his arms, slightly numbing usually nimble digits.
With Trieze sulking around, Duo had never gotten around to scrubbing
all the mud away. Heero gave a slight shrug of one shoulder as a test
and nearly dropped the plate he was washing.
"If you've chipped that plate it's all your fault," Sarilyn warned a
while later, looking up to watch the rogue dish rolling away from
Heero's pile and making a brave run for freedom. She watched with a
calculating eye as he labored up to his feet and gave chase to the
rolling plate.
When he'd settled back down with the retrieved dish, Sarilyn warily
checked it for damage before adding it wordlessly to her stack. "It'll
have to be washed again."
Heero looked up at the accusatory tone in her voice and debated making
excuses, but found he lacked the will or energy. Let her glare at me,
he said to himself.
Mercifully, he made it to the lunch break without any more mistakes.
Sarilyn kept working, and Heero felt a twinge of guilt that she was
trying to make up for him. She managed well enough without my help
before, he rationalized, eliminating the guilt and going in search of
his lunch.
Lunch consisted of beef stew, which seemed to be the staple of the
house slave's diet. He wondered what the field hand's ate, if they ate
at all. Which led him to think about amethyst eyes and chestnut...
"Heero!" called a cheerful voice, dragging Heero's attention out of
memories and into reality. For brief a moment, he couldn't place a
name to the brightly smiling face.
"Quatre," he said, words slightly inclined in question.
The boy nodded enthusiastically and motioned for Heero to sit in the
empty spot across from him. Heero met the exposed emerald hue of the
boy's friend, Trowa, and tried to banish the image the boy sitting
naked in Relena's bathtub. Relena... Heero's eyes narrowed
instinctively, causing Quatre to look confused for a moment.
"Oh, does your back pain you?" Quatre asked at last, bit of triumph
crossing his face at having puzzled out what he thought to be the
cause of Heero's sudden glare.
Since accepting the excuse so conveniently given to him was preferable
to explaining anything, Heero nodded once and took up his spoon.
"I think you were amazingly brave," Quatre said with honest
admiration, "wasn't he, Trowa?"
Trowa's lips twitched slightly into a brief smile, seeing for a moment
the sight of Relena drenched from head to foot and looking brilliantly
stunned. He wished he'd thought of doing that. Trowa nodded slightly,
eyes meeting Heero's to exchange a small shard of understanding.
"If the pain gets to be too bad I'm sure you can see Mistress Po about
it. She's forever fixing little scraps and bumps among us. Trowa.
Trowa, what was the name of that boy a while back, who broke his leg?
Mistress Po set it right all fine and now you can't even tell he broke
it at all! Trowa, what was the name?" the small blonde turned his head
up to his companion, sea green eyes shining brightly.
"Werin."
"Werin, that's right. Does he still mind the stallions, or have they
moved him on to gentle fare?"
"Sold, actually. A month or two ago."
"Oh," Quatre's face fell slightly and he sat quietly for a minute,
thoughtfully chewing on the near tasteless stew. "Well, Mistress Po
did do a fine job of it. Do you know where to find her? She's in the
little house behind the main house, right there beside Madame Noin."
Heero nodded absently, only half listening to Quatre's cheerily voice
as the boy rambled on with pleasantries and nothings. He was
distracted by the hint of nobility lingering within the boy's bubbling
speech, a puzzling attribute for a violin-playing house slave.
"I better get back to the kitchens," Heero said during a break in the
conversation, which was mostly one sided anyway.
"Take care," Quatre politely, but Heero was surprised to find a ring
of sincerity within the tone. Strange people, all of them.
As he made his way back to the kitchens, Heero was unaware of chilled
blue eyes carefully watching his progress from the window. Hearing
footsteps in the antechamber, Relena stepped away from the glass and
let the curtains fall back. She resumed her spot settled into the
stuffed chair there beside the window and picked back up her sewing,
carefully adding another stitch to the embroidery.
"Good afternoon, milady," Noin said with a bright smile as she entered
with a flurry of self-importance.
Relena added two more stitches before setting the piece aside and
folding her hands in her lap, giving Noin a pleasant enough smile in
return. The woman looked momentarily puzzled before crossing the pace
between them and offering out the sealed letter in her hand, "Another
letter from your brother, isn't that odd?"
"He must have sent them out right after another," Relena mused aloud
as she took the letter from Noin. Sliding a thumb under the seal she
snapped the wax and carefully opened it, skimming over her brother's
neat, scholarly script. "Oh!" she exclaimed, causing Noin to fiddle
with her sleeves with impatience.
"It seems my brother will be joining us sooner than thought! Oh, my,
however will I get the manor in proper shape with only a fortnight's
notice?" Relena tried to be angry with Millard, but excitement at
seeing him again overruled any minor distress.
"A fortnight? Does milord say why?"
Her mistress smiled brightly and stood from her chair, waving the
letter before Noin teasingly, "Why, yes he does say why. But is it any
business of yours?" Relena laughed, moving away from Noin and towards
the door, "He's in Serrai right now waiting for a ship to take him
here. He must have mailed the letter as soon as he arrived. I wish I
could write to ask for some lace..."
"I'm sure milord will bring you very nice gifts from his travels."
"No one sleeps until the manor is perfect. I want the wood polished,
the carpets beaten and the whole house scrubbed, top to bottom. I want
new clothes for all the slaves, but don't give them out yet or else
they'll be ruined. Millard says he'll be here on the twenty-seventh,
so we'll have a grand ball that Saturday..." Relena's voice faded as
she moved from room to room, listing off everything that needed to be
done. A sparkling glint came into her chilled eyes, warming them and,
for a moment, she looked like a normal girl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*End*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: hmm, rather uneventful chapter... *sigh* Sorry I could
only get the one out this weekend. My new computer's completely up and
running now, including a new monitor (I can SEE!) and keyboard.
Hopefully I'll get use to the new keyboard and stop making so many
typos. This story's lacking a beta, so there's nothing save me and my
spell check to prevent idiotic mistakes. -_- uber-gomen, I hope the
typos don't distract from the story too much...
Yikes, chapter ten and I haven't even gotten into the actual plot.
woo... this is gonna be kinda lengthy. O_o Fortunately I already have
some understanding of where the story's going, it's just hard to move
it along fast enough. The muses won't let me rush this. Damn them.
Okay, so hopefully you won't have to wait until next Sunday to get a
new chapter! O_o Take care.
Feedback/reviews are very much appreciated! More chapters soon.
copyright 2002 - Gundam Wing and characters copyright other people.
LSE - "Violet" (ManzokuBiscuit@aol.com)
Email me to join my Update ML (be alerted when I add new stories)
www.geocities.com/manzokubiscuit/index.html