Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Ivory Tower ❯ Chapter 4

Title: Ivory Tower 4/?

Author: Quirk othe Trade

Series: Gundam Wing

Pairing(s): 2x5, 1x4?

Archive: Yes, please; just tell me where.

C&C: Please! It can only help me get better.

Category: Alternate Universe/ Fantasy

Rating: NC-17, for violence.

Warnings in this Chapter: Violence! Major violence!! Someone takes a beating. The introduction of someone creepy, major o-o-c, plot device characters, miscommunication, secrets--- you know the drill….

Disclaimer: I only own the story, not Gundam Wing or any of its characters. Truthfully, I think I wouldn't be doing this if only they had put out more on Gundam Wing, either on the story itself or the characters.

A/N: I've used as J.E. Zimmerman's `Dictionary of Classical Mythology' as reference. The deities used in this story are merely twisted versions that I've come up with. The violence in this story isn't something I'd like to see happen to the character or anyone else, for that matter. It's just how it happened. If anyone takes offense at the scene, I apologize in advance. `Ode to Joy' is the melody Aeolus is humming in the story. I may have forgotten to say thank you to some for replying; if I have, I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for the delay with this chapter. I have just been really busy with Real Life lately. v_v;; In any case, thank you very much; you've made me happy with your replies. *^_^*

Beta-ed by: Mako-Chan!!

Key: (thoughts)

---

“No.”

 

Aeolus looked up, startled. “What did you say?”

 

“I said no. I'm not going to steal another lock of Ares' hair for you. Miliardo nearly killed me last time, and it took me six months to fully heal all the damage.”

 

He stared at Relena for a long moment, mouth working silently. Then, his eyes narrowed, and he reached for the wooden staff propped against the wall behind him. Only a little shorter than him, it was made of willow. The top was carefully twisted in a pattern like three oblong leaves or feathers, leather ties with steel beads and white feathers dangling from beneath the steel band sealing the twists together. About one third of the upper middle was wrapped in white rawhide, and the base of the staff was capped in matching leather and steel bands. “Oh, Relena, this shall pain you more than it shall me.”

 

She saw the first blow coming, but didn't bother to block it. Sometimes, he would stop early if she offered no resistance to him. Aeolus was like that; indulgent and loving one minute, harsh and enraged the next. He had never beaten her too badly, just enough to fracture and bruise, although it always left her searching for ways to hide the damage. It helped that he went for quantity over quality, lots of blows over lots of force. However, she was totally unprepared for the amount of force he was using this time; pain exploded in her head as her left cheekbone shattered from the impact. The second blow caught her across the right temple, the steel beads slicing open deep cuts that immediately began to gush gold-tinged crimson. She spun with the force of the blow, and caught herself against the doors. Her back took the next several blows, each one coming with greater intensity. She had no time to become accustomed to the pain at first. Dimly, she heard cloth ripping as something wet and sticky began to slide down the skin of her back.

 

(I've never told him no like that before. He's never beaten me quiet like this, either. Fuck, it hurts…) Her vision, beginning to swim, fastened on the door handle about six inches below her hand. (And it only seems to be getting worse. He's not stopping; do I just let him beat me to death? Oh, wait, I can't die—am I the one making that weird gargling sound?)

 

Focusing beyond her body as best she could, Relena listened, eyes closed. (Yep, that's me--- SHIT!)

 

A wordless cry escaped her as pure fire lanced through her back. One of his blows had caught her right wing, the damning steel beads tearing into the delicate membrane seconds before the actual blow crushed the base of it, taking with it her ability to float and fly.

 

(He's going to kill me, or as close as he can get.) Opening her eyes, she focused on the doorknob. She could hear him--- he was humming, HUMMING---

 

Her hand closed over the doorknob, and twisted, and she was stumbling through the door and into the hallway. The incoming blow glanced off her lower back, causing her to fall to her knees for a second. Left struggling to get to her feet, she was wide open for the strike that broke the ribs on her left side. The force of it rolled her away from him, and she used the precious seconds it gave her to cast `invisibility'. The turtle shell spell she had wouldn't work against Aeolus' wind staff. Being a sylph, the staff was immune to her tricks and spells and would counter every one she might use offensively or defensively against him. But `invisibility'--- oh, there was a reason she always used that one…it was immune for the fact that it was neither offensive nor defensive.

 

“Why, dearest Relena, are you trying to run away? Whatever for? All you have to do is take your punishment?”

 

She climbed slowly to her feet as quietly as possible. He was listening for her, standing there in the middle of the hallway with his head cocked to the side. Every noise she made was too loud to her own ears, and if she didn't move quietly, then he would know her position. His eyes flickered down to the floor and she took two steps back and right toward the vine covered entrance. He swung where she had just been, and she moved a couple more steps away.

 

(I hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him…) It hurt to move, to think, to breath, to BE. He had beaten her before, yes, but the most damage had been fractures and breaks, deep bruises and internal bleeding. Her interest in make-up and outrageous clothing over the years had all been efforts to camouflage the damage and keep the breaks immobile. It hadn't been fun at all. The gown she wore--- now in bloody shreds--- had felt totally like her own style. It was---had been--- comfortable, light, unique, and feminine, indulging her taste of pretty. All the corsets, bustiers, gauntlets, and the tons of make-up---she hadn't worn them because she wanted to.

 

“You're making me cross, apprentice.”

 

Turning, she made for the entrance as quickly as possible. (When he uses that tone, tornados hit the ground.)

 

There was a whistling sound, and she forced herself to move faster. The breeze from the back draft of the missed blow chilled the blood on her back. (Faster, faster, faster…)

 

A threatening growl ran panicky fingers up her spine. Her feet stopped moving, without her conscious consent, and a thrill of horror settled in her stomach. (He's going to use the `wind blade' attack spell…)

 

And it came--- great gusts of wind, sharper than a surgeon's knife, slicing through her wings, her back, puncturing internal organs and leaving no blade to halt the flow of blood from the wounds. The pressure raised her up off her feet. It tumbled her through the entrance, leaves billowing around her as she tried to muffle the shriek spilling out of her mouth. She landed agonizingly on the brief ledge, too close to the edge for comfort.

 

“Your `invisibility' spell doesn't work well when the liquid light is pumping out of your body, does it?”

 

(I HATE HIM.)

 

Relena forced herself to move, struggling up on her hands. Below her on the pale, perfectly rippled stone was an imperfect blood mark from her head wounds. Time slowed for an instant as her eyes took it in, and her brain rebelled against it, not wanting to comprehend the amount of damage needed to cause her gold tinged blood to congeal on the stone like that. The crimson was so crimson, like poppy petals, and the metallic gold sheen danced over it, through it and under it. It was so beautiful--- it should be a nail polish, or maybe a lipstick…

 

(He's coming.)

 

She could hear his footsteps clicking sharply on the stone.

 

(He's coming.)

 

Muscles and nerves screamed in protest as she sat back, her legs folded under her. The pain was consistent enough for her to finally distance herself from it, but doing so made everything seem like a dream. She could feel her hair---part of it had come down with that last attack. His shadow fell over her as he approached.

 

“Come back when you are ready to serve your master as you should; obediently, and without complaint.”

 

Facing away from him at an angle, she sensed rather than saw his arm go back. Then,[Author ID1: at Wed Apr 21 13:09:00 2004 ] instinct took over, and her arm came up. There was a sickening, wet sound as her arm broke and a small animal crying out as the full brunt of Aeolus' final blow brutalized already broken ribs. Relena was airborne again, free wheeling over the edge of the ledge into open sky like a rag doll. Her hair fell completely free around her face as she fell, drops of liquid light falling around her as they slid off her skin, pooled in thin broken streams from open wounds. Darkness rushed in, obscuring her sight, and slowly, her mind.

 

(I'm never going back. I'll see him in the lowest level of Tartarus Manor first. `Ode to Joy', my ass.)

---

Duo floated downward, enjoying the sensation of the wind around him, the blue sky above him, and the view of the countryside below him. Below him, rapidly approaching, was Mt. Aetna, under which lay the main forge of Hephaestus, Archetype of Metal Working and God of Fire. Supposedly, the monstrous giant Typhon was buried somewhere under there, too, which had of course lead to several jokes among their little clique. Still, a faint twinge ran through him at the idea of something that huge and destructive lying under a mountain like that. After all, most of the histories said Typhon had been `conquered', not destroyed--- big difference, especially since the Archetypes had been revived. If they could be awakened, then why not Typhon?

 

Shifting his aim so he landed outside the entrance, he paused to look out over the view. The mortals had come a long way--- though nearly destroying your planet would have some affect on people, he guessed. Though, no one was really sure about what had happened. Calamities had run their course for five years, leaving confusion and chaos in its wake. Strange fires, earthquakes, eruptions, mass destruction to cities and power sources, thousands dying across the planet--- it had been Hell on Earth. [Author ID0: at ]

[Author ID1: at Wed Apr 21 13:13:00 2004 ]

Countries had had to rebuild themselves and each other, and in the process, new ways of thinking and beliefs had arisen. Through those beliefs and ideas, the Archetypes had awakened, though this time around it went a little more smoothly. They didn't want to be worshipped as deities, not like they had been, and truthfully, mortals didn't want to do any worshipping to old deities with bad reputations. Neither side had been able to ignore each other though, because the Archetypes were simply too powerful and too plentiful. What remained of the church had nearly had a cow, until they had been told to blow. An unspoken agreement had somehow been struck: the Archetypes would do their jobs, the mortals would do their jobs, and anything else that went on would be ignored. At least, that had worked until the church had realized that the job of the Archetypes had been to, among other things, answer prayers. [Author ID0: at ]

[Author ID1: at Wed Apr 21 13:15:00 2004 ]

Then, the church had undergone vast changes instead of wigging out, returning to the original roots that had birthed it in order to survive. Unacknowledged and heretical works had been used to restructure the system, and despite all protests, it had been a success. Women were allowed to hold positions of power, reincarnation had been reinstated, and angel and meditation shrines erected for the purpose of prayer. Self-discovery had become the norm; `find God within yourself' was a common slogan on tee shirts, and it wasn't uncommon to hear people talking aloud to their spirit guides. Those who held stubbornly to the old ways had screamed and cried that the church had been corrupted and paganized, but their voices had eventually fallen silent, simply because calling any of the revived goddesses and gods a devil to their face usually meant a quick thunderbolt or blow or whatever from their weapon of choice.

 

The cities that had been rebuilt in these new times were smaller, parks were more plentiful within their boundaries, and green power ran them. Birth control was mandatory in whatever shape or form you preferred it, and alternate and Eastern medicines were practiced with great success over modern medicine. Things were slower with less people on the planet, calmer; though, the advancement of technology had sky rocketed recently in the past two hundred years. Although, some days, it was like nothing had changed in the last six million years since the calamities. [Author ID0: at ]

[Author ID1: at Wed Apr 21 13:18:00 2004 ]

The town below the mountain was peaceful and sleepy looking, causing a swift pang of homesickness to run through him. It reminded him of the orphanage he had grown up in, and the town that had surrounded it with their customs and their way of life. But--- it didn't exist anymore. It had all crumbled into the sea, prodded along by fire, lava, and tidal waves more than a century after he had became Magda Therese's apprentice.

 

He clapped his hands sharply. “Enough reminiscing. You've got places to go, people to see, and souls to collect. Don't get all melancholy now.”

 

Still, he indulged in one last look before turning and walking into the darkness of the cavern.

 

Offerings lined the walls--- jewels, metals, parchments, hammers, and unusual pieces of metal work--- all under the warm glow of candles that never seemed to burn low. The offerings stopped about ten feet in, but the candles didn't, and they lead the way into a large underground chamber full of stalagmites. Pausing at the entrance, he closed his eyes and concentrated until he felt the world tilt sideways and settle again. Then he opened his eyes.

 

A huge forge sat against the far wall, still managing to cast long orange shadows despite the sun spell used to light the area, and a wielding area opposite it, the tanks kept well away from the fire. Only a temperature spell kept the room bearable. Barrels of water stood open, and all the tools were in their racks. Four worktables, littered with various bits and pieces, were divided on opposite sides of the room, benches tucked underneath. Bundles of armor and weapons covered in oilcloth sat around in piles near the walls. Whether they were awaiting owners or melt down was the question. Duo knew the metals and gemstones Hephaestus used in jewelry making were kept in a special vault somewhere in the mountain. Finished pieces adorned the walls, a bizarre mixture of armor, weapons, and jewelry.

 

The sound of a door closing drew his attention to one side.

 

Hephaestus raised a brow as he drew a sip of water from the glass tumbler in his hands. He was a petite man, and while not as bulked up as some would imagine, thick muscle corded and moved under his skin. He wore heavy iron braces over his steel-toed boots and heavy faded jeans, all the way up his thighs and hips. Only an undershirt covered his upper body. His hair, a light brown, was just long enough to be pulled back in a small ponytail at the back of his head. His skin didn't glow like some of the Archetypes, but his eyes, a silvery blue, made up for it. His face, misshapen as if someone had shifted all of his features out of alignment, was not horrible. It just took getting used to--- and Duo was used to it.

 

“Hello, Lord Hephaestus,” he greeted warmly.

 

“Hello, Duo,” replied Hephaestus. His voice rumbled out of his chest, up his throat, and out his mouth in a deep baritone. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I've come to ask a favor. Can you make a piece of jewelry out of these?” Duo held up a handful of diamonds. “A necklace, perhaps?”

 

“Are those what I think they are?' Eyes widening, he moved away from the door to set his glass down on a worktable. Duo moved to meet him and poured the handful of jewels into the other's hand.

 

“By Themis, they are. Only the tears of Death show such clarity, such fire. Not even Dice, Goddess of Justice, can spill diamonds such as these.” He sifted through the stones in his palm, watching white fire flash in the light.

 

“What does Lady Dice spill?”

 

“Blue diamonds. Amazing as blue diamonds are, compared to the tears of your mistress, they are nothing.”

 

“Wait. You say that as if she cries --- well, I don't know. Like it's something precious, like she doesn't do it very often.”

 

“That's true. Lady Mnemosenyne says she remembers a time when Death wept for every life taken, and now--- when was the last time she wept for more than a moment's passing pain? Is it really so unusual an idea then, Duo, for her tears, her pain, to be precious?” Hephaestus glanced up, considering, from the palm full of light. “Perhaps I assume too much. Your mistress has many secrets, young one, and as her old friend, it is not my place to speak of them.”

 

“No, no, you're right. It's just… I don't think of it like that, and I don't really understand. How do you know her tears are of pain? There's more than one reason to cry.” Digging in his pockets, he fetched out the rest of the diamonds. “She said to bring the gems to you.”

 

“Because Magda Therese has never sent me tears of joy,” he rumbled. “Though, that would be something to behold. They would be more brilliant than even these. A necklace, you said?” He shifted through them all, and then snagged a dish to place them into before continuing to pour over them. “No, not a necklace like you are thinking. The last one I made was Harmonia's necklace, and it caused much discord. Who is it for?”

 

Duo blushed. “For WuFei, Doro's new apprentice.”

 

He looked up at Duo, hearing the tone. “What's this?”

 

“I like her.”

 

“A present to win the girl's heart, hmm?” He smiled teasingly.

 

“She's my--- my sweetheart.”

 

His expression went from amused indulgence to startled amazement. “What did you say?”

 

“She's my sweetheart.” (What the heck's going on?)

 

He continued to stare at him for several moments before he threw back his head, laughing.

 

“What?!” exclaimed Duo, throwing his hands wide in exasperation.

 

“Nothing, nothing. Do you know the circumference of her neck?” Shaking his head, tiny chuckles still escaped him. He reached for a notebook and pencil half hidden under a piece of scrap. Setting them within reach, he pulled a tailor's measure from the small rack at the end of the table.

 

“No. I think about my size should be fine.”

 

“I was thinking of matching choker-collars. Just leave it to me, eh?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“If there are any extra diamonds left over, may I keep them? Lift your chin.” Large, strong hands passed the tape gently around his neck, mindful of the braid. Adjusting it, he nodded to himself as he mentally noted the number before jotting it on paper.

 

“Sure. I don't know what she does with her tears, anyway.”

 

A shoe scraped against stone, deliberately, catching their attention.

 

She was the same height as Magda Therese, with long bottle blond hair that reached her knees. Other that that, Duo almost didn't recognize Adez, apprentice of Pluto, King of Hell. She wore black boots, black jeans, a black peek-a-boo lace shirt over an almost equally lacy brassiere, and a light black jacket. Her long hair was pulled into a cascading ponytail high at the back of her head and her face was free of the heavy, gothic like make-up she usually wore. Without it, her face was sweet and pretty,[Author ID1: at Wed Apr 21 20:26:00 2004 ] in an almost child-like way, almost innocent, framed with long, choppy bangs and tapering pieces that framed her face. She had a pointed chin with a shallow dimple; full pink cupids bow lips, a cute button nose, and black brows that arched over long lashed, dead looking black eyes. Everything was all right, until you looked at those eyes, which were too much like a shark's, as if there was no one home.

 

Except today, Duo noticed, her eyes weren't black--- they were a pale, pale honey brown, almost topaz yellow. (What the---?)

 

“Adez, girl,” Hephaestus rumbled, dropping his hands from around Duo's neck. “Back so soon?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Duo suppressed a shiver. Her voice was a clear, soft soprano, rubbing against all the senses. He'd never been able to figure out if she did it on purpose or not. He knew she put it to good use. How many times had he picked up a soul with her standing there like an unfeeling statue, the cause of all their miseries, lured by the sweetness of her voice down roads they would never have traveled if not for her?

 

“I found the grade of metal you wanted, and the onyx and obsidian.” She held up a cloth bag, and then fastened the strange yellow eyes on him. “Hello, Duo, apprentice of Magda Therese, throne of Death.”

 

“Good day, Adez, apprentice of Pluto, King of Hell.” His mouth twitched at the formality. “If I may say, you look very nice in black? Much better than in the shades of white and gray you usually wear.”

 

Her eyes blinked at him. There was emotion there--- familiarity, curiosity, amusement—she was practically staring at him. “I wear what my mistress wishes.”

 

“Does she know you left the house like that?” He let a note of teasing creep into his voice, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

 

The corner of her mouth twitched in answer. “No, but the illusion is everything, in Hell.”

 

He studied her intently, as openly as she was he. “You seem different today, somehow.”

 

Eyes widening, she tilted her head away from him sharply, like she had been caught at doing something naughty. “Perhaps.”

 

Silently watching the exchange between them up until now, Hephaestus chose this time to move. Setting down the measure, he walked toward her and took the bag. “How long can you stay today, Adez?”

 

“Not long. I must finish my mistress' ensemble for the ball.”

 

A look passed over Hephaestus' face and he opened his mouth to speak. He paused as a faraway look passed over her face.

“Persephone calls.” One minute, she was wearing black, and the next, she wasn't. One third of her hair was piled atop the crown of her head, an elaborate scrap of lace softening the lines and tucked behind her ears. The hair surrounding her face was parted to the left and smoothed around her face, and the rest fell down her back in long banana curls. Iron encircled her throat in the form of a choker. White gauntlets encased her arms from wrist to bicep. A white bustier consisting mainly of leather straps and sheer panels that exposed way more than her pervious top clung to her, nearly spilling her breasts over the top and cinching her waist. It gave the impression that she couldn't breathe. The pale gray skirt with a reversed zipper on the left hip was short enough to flash the lacy tops of the dove gray thigh highs she was wearing. Knee high, six-inch stiletto boots just a shade darker than the hose left her practically on tiptoe. Silver shadow was dusted over and under her lids, the eyes outlined heavily in a darker shade of silver, and the black mascara turned her long lashes into demonic butterflies. Her mouth was a dark, vibrant, and, somehow, natural looking red, swollen looking--- like she'd been kissing someone---or doing something else…

 

“Why do you always dress like sex?” His voice was a little hoarse from the shock of the transformation. Where had the young girl he'd been talking to gone?

 

Yellow topaz eyes flinched, and suddenly went black like flipping a switch. The open, friendly look was gone, and replaced with something just a little too mocking and sorrowful to be contempt.

 

“Life itself is Hell. That makes sex the path to Hell, and women the gate. For something so horrible, the packaging must be enticing.” She bowed slightly. “Excuse me.”

 

Her footsteps faded long before either man moved.

 

“What the hell is her problem?! ` Life itself is Hell'? Yeah, life is hard, but it doesn't make it Hell! You've got to make the best of it!!” Duo exploded, clenching his fists and glaring at empty air.

 

“Duo, what do you know of Adez?”

 

He turned, slightly startled at Hephaestus' calm tone. “Um--- she's one of the oldest apprentices, some say before there were some gods. She's a bitch… She's very powerful, and likes murdering people, though not children…She's a bitch…. And Magda Therese led Pluto to her, and she seems to regret it. Oh, and she's a BITCH.”

 

“How do you know---?”

 

“She told me, just recently.” He crossed his arms across his chest, slouching, chin tucked. He stared off into the distance. “Man, she actually seemed approachable, nice.”

 

“Ah. Well then—Adez--- Adez is the very first apprentice, ever. Yes, even before some gods--- like me. Adez is not her original name, but one she took when Pluto took her in. She was once something much more different. And… whatever else can be said of her, remember that Adez is `two-faced'.”

 

Duo blinked, his ire cooled as he was taken aback by the god's words, and turned his full attention to him. “Two faced?”

 

“Most people wear masks to conceal who they are, but Adez is two-faced.” He stared hard at the apprentice, quicksilver blue eyes trying to drill something into lavender blue. “Just think about it.”

 

TBC…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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