Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Ivory Tower ❯ Chapter 3

Title: Ivory Tower, 3/?

 

Author: Quirk othe Trade

 

 

Series: Gundam Wing

 

 

Pairings: 2+5, other pairings to follow as they pop up. 1+4??

 

 

Archive: Yes, please! Just tell me where. Originally available other places, too.

 

 

Commentary: Yes, please. ^_^ quirkothetrade@yahoo.com

 

 

Category: Alternate Universe/ Fantasy

 

 

Ratings: For now; PG. That will probably change as the story progresses, especially as I can't seem to help the lemon seasoning.

 

 

Warnings: There is major o-o-c here, folks. Also, my own messed up characters which have been invented for pure plot device-edness, miscommunication, secrets, etc. There will be eventual violence and other stuff, too, and random boughts of picking on Relena.

 

 

Disclaimers: All standard disclaimers apply; I only own Gundam Wing in my dreams, and besides: I've already spent all my money on the merchandise. ^_^

 

 

A/N: I have majorly screwed with various deities at my leisure. This is a total work of fiction, though I have used J.E. Zimmerman's 'Dictionary of Classical Mythology' as a basic reference. Please keep an eye on the pairings, ratings and warnings: these *will* change as the story progresses. One note in reading this chapter: one thing I've noticed in reading Chinese and Japanese (and I'm not claiming to be an expert!!) is that sometimes if you translate from Chinese or Japanese to English, some things are accidentally translated too literally. Or is that just me? ^_^;; The name, Beloved of Night, is like that. Also, WuFei isn't a girl; I just decided to make him so beautiful in this one that the robes he wears- which are like Dorothy's- hides the fact that he has no bosom. For everyone who has reviewed, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

 

 

P.S. Sorry for any mistakes and stuff. I'm new to MediaMiner, and still figuring things out. I'll get the other chapters over here as soon as possible, okay?

 

 

Beta-ed by: The AMAZING Mako-chan and DARLING Duo-Chan!!

 

 

Key: (Blah)-thoughts

 

+++

 

 

Heero landed easily on the rose-enclosed patio, knees bending automatically to disperse the impact. Straightening, he turned and looked up, holding his wings- white edged with the faintest hint of black- aloft from the mosaic floor.

 

 

“Come down, Quatre.”

 

 

“I think I'll take a glide around the mountain…” Quatre fluttered his gold-edged, cream colored wings nervously and dropped several inches in the process.

 

 

“We were sent out together, we report together,” Heero said and grasped a near-by ankle. Yanking firmly, he caught the lighter boy before the startled yelp fully left his mouth.

 

 

“Heero!” Quatre looked at him, eyes huge.

 

 

“I'm sorry, but running from it never works.” He carefully sat Quatre on his feet, mindful of the wings. “Be strong. I'm here, and I'll help you.”

 

Quatre stared at him, startled. He caught a glimpse of…something in sapphire eyes before the other turned away. “Heero?”

 

“Let's go.” Heero strode away, ignoring the questioning tone in the other's voice. He couldn't afford for Quatre to know, especially not even when he had not admitted it fully to himself. After a moment, he heard footsteps follow him across the patio.

 

They entered the Avery, a fortress hewn straight through Mt. Elbrus. Huge, broad patios covered in mosaics and lush, ever-blooming rose trellises on the east and west sides served as the entry ways and landing pads, with broad, time worn stairs spiraling down the mountain. The patios opened into the main hallway, which led in a circular loop around, numerous doors feeding off from it. The walls between each door were covered with friezes, depicting various scenes. No one knew exactly how many levels there were extending down into the mountain, but there were more than enough to house the Armies of Light. Higher up the mountain, large steeps and patios had been cleared and cut away, some accessible only by air, for the purposes of drill practice. Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor as they made their way round to a huge pair of doors set approximately half way round the main hallway.

 

The tall cinnamon haired man, dressed in a swath of blue and white silk fabric, black leather pants and matching boots, stood at a huge table in the middle of the room, and looked up from a book in his hands as the huge doors to the main tactical room swung open, admitting two familiar forms. Blue steel eyes sharpened with interest, and cinnamon edged, sienna wings flexed involuntarily with anticipation. “Heero, Quatre.”

 

“Sir.” They chorused, standing at attention on the other side of the huge round table scattered with maps, reports, and other interesting bits of paper. Around them, silent monitors flickered, and a crew of techs worked at whatever they were working at.

 

“Report.”

 

“The new apprentice appears to be a female, Oriental descent, named WuFei.”

 

“Hmm. Any particular taste?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“I'm thinking gifts. It will be a contest, knowing the other Archetypes. I would like to find something in good taste. That the apprentice would like.” Treize placed the book, a copy of `The Art of War', on the oaken table. “I've already found something I believe to be appropriate for Dorothy, so I'm only concerned for the-- WuFei.”

 

Heero caught his shoulder with his own before Quatre fell sideways in surprise, and they shared a quick, disbelieving look.

 

 

+++

 

“Lord Aeolus! I'm back!” exclaimed Relena, fluttering through the vine-covered entrance. "I couldn't find the Clouds!"

 

The mystical castle that was home to the Archetype of wind was literally located on an embankment of white, fluffy cotton candy clouds; thus, its title, the Clouds. Made of white rippling stone, a huge network of ivy and moonflowers cascaded down the walls from the upper gardens. It was one of the few truly mobile castles, drifting across the sky at any given moment. It made it impossible to keep up with, too, which annoyed the milkman and the newspaper boy to no end.

 

She landed on her feet, and made for the study door. “Lord Aeolus?”

 

There was a muffled `come in' from behind the wooden door, and she pushed her way in.

 

Lord Aeolus was a slender, tall man with a cap of white curls on his head. He was dressed in a simple fawn colored tunic and taupe trousers, a cream colored sash draped over one shoulder. He was currently pouring over standard air flow charts that would have sent the National Weather Service into spasms.

 

“Master?”

 

“Yes, Relena; hold on.” Picking up a pencil, he placed a faint mark by a city due for a nice blustery northern wind and looked at her. “Now.”

 

"Sorry it took so long, but I thought you might have been at Aeolia Isle so I stopped there first. Then, I had a hard time finding the Clouds."

 

He frowned at her. "Are my sons playing their petty games again?"

 

"I didn't bother asking them for directions. I know they don't like me." Relena shrugged carelessly.

 

"I'll talk to-- "

 

"Please, don't bother. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." (Besides, I have to prove my worth to them myself.) “Dorothy's new apprentice is a girl named WuFei. She's got dark hair and eyes and is all oriental looking. She's kind of quiet and shy.”

 

“That's it? That's not enough to get a present together.”

 

“Present?” Relena blinked.

 

“Of course presents! We need something that'll blow their socks off!” He frowned at her. "You didn't gather enough information. For punishment, I want another lock of Ares' hair."

 

 

+++

 

Hilde descended into the cave and sighed happily as the comfort of the earth closed around her. With a thought, her green street clothes disappeared and were replaced with a brief sleeveless gown of earth brown and forest green, wooden clogs and the sheer crescent veil that spilled around her shoulders and flowed to her knees. On her left bicep was the platinum armlet that marked her as belonging to Gaea. Moving deeper into the earth, she breathed in the deep, rich smell of it, her footsteps echoing all around. The deeper she went into the earth, a faint rumbling sound grew louder and louder until finally she reached her destination.

 

It was a huge subterranean cavern, the ceiling soaring so high it was lost in darkness. Only luminous lichen illuminated the darkness here at the bottom, and the strange crystals that reflected the light back. At the far end, a gigantic waterfall, the reason for all the noise, roared out of the darkness to fall into a huge pool at the bottom. At the center of the pool was an island, stepping stones zigzagging from it to the shore.

 

A few random gnomes were scattered around the room doing whatever. Hilde ignored them and made a beeline for the steps and the island they lead to.

 

Long trailing white and green marbled ivy cascaded down into the dark water. Pale luminous flowers glowed in the darkness, along with more of those crystals, beautifully surreal like a landscape in the moonlight. Making her way into the center of the unnatural life, she approached a huge stone dais and mounted its steps to the top.

 

The slumbering figure lounged on a slab of marble. In the muted light, it was hard to tell exact features and details, but since Hilde was more than familiar with the yards of corn rowed hair, café au lait skin and fathomless eyes, it didn't matter. “Mistress.”

 

The figure shifted and the scent of crushed roses wafted around them. “What of the new one, little one?”

 

“Her name is WuFei, and she appears to be from the Orient.”

 

“And?” Gaea's voice was low and husky.

 

“She's gentle, quiet and shy.”

 

“Hmm… perhaps an offering of platinum, gold and jade?....”

 

“For what, mistress?”

 

“For the ball.”

 

 

+++

 

Trowa set foot on the steps of the villa on Mt. Helicon and paused to stretch. Mentally, he searched out the presences of his mistresses and found all eight in the main lounge on the ground floor.

 

(Time to face the music.) He made his way slowly into the villa, contemplating what he was going to say. Unlike the others' masters, his had given very clear instructions, and what they were for. He bypassed all the open doors for the one covered with a curtain of multicolored, multifaceted beads. Colorful mosaics of the muses' tales covered the floor beneath his feet. Similar friezes covered the walls, though more than one was dedicated to the mortal Sappho, known as the tenth muse. He passed through the swinging curtain of beads and slowly approached the lounges grouped at the far end. His mistresses reclined on them, clad in colorful cottons, silks and linens. On small tables beside each lounge were laptops complete with the latest technology. Of course, the muses used them simply as notepads; all of their data was deposited at night in computer systems set up in each of their rooms upstairs that lead to a major mainframe in a renovated wine room in the cellar. He didn't bother listening to the vague chatter; his mistresses were some of the most talkative people he knew, barring Duo—when Duo GOT the chance, that was…

 

The chattering abruptly stopped as he approached, and he held their attention as he knelt on a thick velvet cushion at the center of their half circle.

 

“Trowa,” they prompted.

 

“Mistresses.” He bowed his head. “The one Dorothy has chosen is an Oriental girl named WuFei. She's quiet, but not faint of heart. She is graceful, fair of face and full of grief.”

 

“Full of grief?” queried Melpomene, muse of tragedy. “Pray tell.”

 

“I know nothing, but it weighs on her almost visibly.”

 

“Thank you, Trowa,” said Calliope, muse of epic poetry. “Leave the rest to us. Why don't you run along, seek out a friend or two.”

 

“Yes, mistress,” said Trowa, pivoting. He strolled out of the room and didn't jump when the heavy stone doors crashed shut behind him. They would be busy in their attempts to produce a perfect story to bestow upon the unsuspecting WuFei. It would have been even worse, though, had he told them of Duo's antics. They'd be pulling romances out of thin air, or worse, considering the explicitness of some of Lady Erato's works…

 

“Trowa, my boy!!”

 

(Oh, no. Nonononononono…) “Yes, Lord Bacchus?”

 

“Come and share a drink, or three, with me!”

 

 

+++



Duo sighed as he opened yet another chest. He had already rejected all the jewelry and weapons. The jewelry—it was all too elaborate, or too big or too SOMETHING. Weapons meant nothing to Fate, for Fate was impartial. Armor-- it might as well be a weapon. That left manuscripts and books. Yet, none of the books and manuscripts so far had felt right.

 

He paused before a chest hidden in a shadow. It was unusual for three things: it was on a silk pillow, it had no name plate, and the sheer ornamentation of the wood and metal of the chest itself. The metal was a filigree scroll work of hearts and vines, while the wood bore roses and forget-me-nots on every inch of exposed wood. It wasn't terribly big, maybe twelve inches wide, twelve inches long and thirteen inches deep. By the size, it should have been on a table somewhere.

 

Leaning his scythe against the wall behind the chest, by its eerie green light he knelt on one knee to examine it further and discovered the pillow was on a small rosewood table. There was no pressure lock, not even a tiny micro lock, just an old fashioned keyhole. Touching the top of the carved lid, he was surprised to feel it move under his hand.

 

“It's not locked, then?” he half whispered to himself. His eyes widened as he folded back the lid. A scroll sat inside on a bed of velvet. It was battered and ancient, a thin piece of cotton ribbon the color of faded sepia tied around it, the edges of the parchment cracked. It looked like something that should have been burned a long time ago, and he carefully picked it up to examine it more closely. The wood bore traces of worn artwork, and except for the edges, the parchment was still soft and supple, and the ribbon was of a satin weave.

 

Sitting down from his kneeling position, he tugged it open gently. The scroll opened easily, revealing oriental calligraphy in a most refined hand. Pursing his lips, he concentrated on it until the characters suddenly made sense.

 

`These things form the grace of this eternal fantasy:
Honor, that words mean something;
Hope, the flame that lights the night;
Love, binding all bridges;
Sanctity, that dwells within all;
Virtue, unsullied by time.
Remember me, my sweetheart.
Beloved of Night'

 

A thrill ran through him; another `sweetheart' had shown up.

 

“DUO! What are you doing in that chest?!”

 

He turned at the horrified tone in Magda Therese's voice. She looked ready to faint or bolt or throw up, all at once.

 

“I think I found WuFei's gift.” He smiled up at her, hoping whatever trouble he was in could be averted with that little phrase. “May I give her this scroll?”

 

She stared down at him, fists clenched white knuckled around the shaft of her weapon, and paled. Considering how pale she already was, it was quite a feat, and made her eyes and hair harsh by contrast. It was not a good look on her, and Duo eyed her nervously.

 

“Magda Therese?”

 

Her scythe disappeared in a brief flash of light, and she took an awkward step forward. Plump, soft looking hands took the open scroll tremblingly, reverently, slowly, and her head dipped down.

 

Duo rose slowly to his feet, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. He watched her lips compress until a white line outlined her mouth. Her lids dropped over her eyes, concealing whatever emotion was there. Then, her mouth relaxed and smiled, and two particularly large tears dropped from her lashes.

 

“Go ahead. Give it to your sweetheart.” She held out the scroll, and he took it back, still unrolled.

 

“Did this scroll belong to anyone in particular?”

 

Two large diamonds hit the floor.

 

“It was a gift— a request—from your mother to your father.”

 

She turned and walked up the aisle, pausing only to gather up the present she had picked for Dorothy. Then, she made her way out of the room, her heels echoing in the silence.

 

(My MOTHER… to my FATHER?!) Duo stood still as the words worked through his ears and into his brain. Then, it struck and he jumped. Starting to run after her, he remembered his weapon, and skidded to a halt. He ran back for it, paused to grab up the two large diamonds from the floor, and then ran after her, ducking through the door treatment. “Magda Therese! Where did you get this?! Did you know my parents?!”

 

She was just ahead on the wide stone steps.

 

“Magda!!”

 

She halted abruptly.

 

“You might want to take those tears to Hephaestus. He does wonderful work.”

 

"Mistress—”

 

“Give the scroll to WuFei. I shall consider it as a betrothal request to WuFei and her mistress.”

 

“Mistress Magda Therese—” He halted beside her.

 

“Not now, Duo.” Her tone stopped him. Her posture was still ramrod straight, but the tone… it was faint, and so weary, like it was dragged up from the dregs of her bones. “Just— not now.”

 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Duo willed her to face him, to talk, wished she hadn't dropped her mask again so he could feel like he could pressure her to talk. He thought he'd come to terms with the fact he'd been orphaned at an early age, but the need to know rose up just as strong as it ever had been. He remembered nothing of his father except for a long flowing fall of chestnut hair like his own. Of his mother, he remembered large lavender blue eyes and a soft alto singing him to sleep. If his mistress had known them—

 

“This scroll goes to WuFei.” The harshness of his own voice startled him as the words came forth. He rolled the scroll closed as he cleared his throat before speaking again. “What should I ask Hephaestus to make?”

 

“Whatever you wish.”

 

He moved a step ahead of her up the stairs. “Anything at all?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He turned back to look at her. Her face was totally blank, and Dorothy's gift, a tiara made of silver spun so finely it resembled cobwebs, dangled carelessly from her fingers.

 

“I'll go now. Can I trust you with this?” Tying it, he held it out to her.

 

“Yes.” She took it carefully. “Can I ask you later?”

 

“When I'm ready.”

 

He bit his lip, but nodded. He knew her well; that meant that while it might take a while, she WOULD answer. In the mean time, it gave him time to think of more questions. He could endure the torture it gave him. “Alright, then.”

 

A moving shadow caught the edge of his gaze, and he automatically lashed out, green blurring in the dimness. It flashed inches past her face, long strands moving in the draft though she never reacted. The oogie bogie gave a tiny, shrill shriek as it disintegrated.

 

“Fucking oogie bogies. Let's get out of here.”

 

Together they walked back out of the vault in silence. For Duo, it was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

 

+++



Magda Therese slumped against the door of her bed chamber, feeling drained. How to tell Duo the truth? Why hadn't she told him no?

 

(Because he deserves the truth,) her conscious whispered.

 

She snorted in answer and stumbled into a nearby chair. Tucking the scroll and jewelry beside her hip, she unbuckled the five inch heels and tossed them aside before taking them back up again. She dropped the tiara in her lap and gently opened the scroll. Night sky eyes traced over each word, as though each word were utterly new and not traced on her heart. Then she sighed and scanned her room, seeking a distraction. The total wreck she had left this morning was already clean again, the bed neatly made with all the pillows and bedclothes where they were supposed to be. The painting above her bed was straight again. The small vanity was neatly organized. The clothes were either hung back in the closet or had been taken away to be cleaned. The writing desk was reorganized, and its paper and writing utensils put away. If she checked the bathroom, she'd find clean towels, the plants rearranged back into place and everything tucked away neatly. Her eyes came to rest on the one wall covered in midnight blue velvet from ceiling to floor, and she thought of the damning evidence that hung there on her wall.

She did not want to do this.

TBC...