Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Of Courtesans and Corsairs ❯ Chapter 8

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

The High King's quarters were in ruins. The brilliantly colored (and rarely worn) silks of his robes and finery were scattered about the room as though a massive storm had chosen this room to center and form itself. Mirrors lay smashed in their frames, and the walls were streaked and spattered with random blood stains from a wound in constant motion. And amongst it all lay the cause for this mayhem, his hands bleeding at the knuckles and tears threatening to spill and emasculate him at the height of his fury.

King Wufei's howls rocked the very foundation of the LaGrange castle, sending its inhabitants into a panic. "HEERO!" he thundered, sending a poor unsuspecting servant scuttling for cover lest he take a crystal goblet to his bewildered face. "DAMN YOU! WHY MUST I BE AT WAR WITH MYSELF AND WITH YOU?! HEE~RO!"

Relena had long since fled to her new quarters, "sprucing them up" to her satisfaction and bedecking anything unfortunate enough to be nearby in a high glossy pink. Even the whitewash had been dyed with crushed berries, and completed the sickeningly-sweet décor. At the very mention of her future husband's wrath, she'd spirited herself away to safety and took no responsibility for what she herself had brought about in a simple carriage ride through the capital city. She preened with her personal ladies-in-waiting and awaited the outcome with an unmasked glee; surely Heero would be banished at least for putting His Majesty in such a state! And only hours before a celebratory banquet, no less! Oh the gossip!

Eager to see her rival's undoing, she cast her gaze to the great window/doorway to her patio. From here she had a perfect view of the courtyard and its many gardens, which meant she could see anyone passing through them. She flashed a triumphant and spiteful grin as she watched her opponent race out from the tower across from her apartments and into the courtyard, his ivory robes flapping as he ran with abandon to the King's apartments. A blonde woman, garbed in physician's earth tones, ran but a pace behind him. That woman…Sally, was it?…She is going to be a problem if what I think is true plays true. "Silvia," she said, making one of the pink mounds of silk titter. "I feel my vespers coming on. Go to the healer and summon her here. I seek prompt treatment."

The young woman bowed obediently and adjusted her outrageously-long veil atop her head, then moved swift as a deer to the direction of the king's rooms. Surely this Healer would be there, no doubt preparing to attend the wounds the King would inflict upon his concubine. "All the more reason to hasten," Silvia whispered to herself. "My Lady takes precidence over some male whore who cannot close his legs."

~

"My King!" Heero fell to his knees respectfully, falling right atop the remains of a vanity mirror and stabbing himself countless times. It hurt terribly, but it was not serious, so he remained where he was and kept his gaze averted.

WHAM! A fist, bloodied by self-mutilation, cracked against his cheek, the glass embedded in the hand's wound now cutting Heero's rapidly-swelling face. "DAMN YOU!" the hand's owner bellowed, not caring that his victim went flying into the unyiedling stone wall and slumped against it. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"

Head throbbing, cheek and knees bleeding freely, Heero tried to cast his frightened eyes upward to meet those of the enraged soveriegn. "My Lord, I-"

CRACK! Silk held no protection of any sort for Heero's delicate back when a leather scabbard encrusted with jewels, wielded by a hand fueled by blind rage, smacked jewel-side down across his shoulders. The pain was tremendous, and a yelp escaped the poor confused courtesan, but he made no motion to protect himself when the scabbard struck again.

"YOU ABANDON ME WHEN I NEED YOU MOST! YOU TURN MY SON AGAINST ME! YOU HAVE BEWITCHED ME, HEERO! YOU HAVE GIVEN ME ALL I COULD EVER DESIRE AND MORE! YET I FEEL NOTHING BUT MISERY! DAMN IT, WHY DID I EVER AGREE TO THIS MARRIAGE?! WHY MUST I FEEL PAIN IF WHAT I DO IS RIGHT?!"

The scabbard stopped swinging, leaving Heero panting against his sobs and striving not to shiver. "You are king, Majesty," he said as resolutely as he could manage. "Affairs of state come before personal matters."

The words seemed to cast a spell on the Dragon, or at least break the current spell placed upon him. His vision cleared of the heinous red, he saw now what his fury had done. His lover, his Heero, lay in a corner in robes torn to ribbons and soaked in blood that should not have been spilt. Tremors, almost too faint for the naked eye, began at the marble-white hands clasping his elbows. Each breath, heavy with sorrow and agony, seemed to force the great bleeding welts on his back closer to the light, into the full view of the stunned king. Like a fallen angel he leaned on the stone, curling his delicate body tighter into itself. Stripped of his wings, his innocence raped by the raw pain and sorrow of betrayal, he cast his leaky Prussian blues to the disbelieving onyx of his mate and struggled to rise.

Wufei backed off a pace and dropped the weapon, shaking his head like a draft animal as though to clear it of this nightmare. "No…Heero, you're… by the gods! Stop moving, Heero! Stop it, I say! You, you shouldn't be moving in your condition! Damn you, will you not stop!"

It hurt to move, to even breathe, but Heero resolutely swallowed his whimpers and limped to his husband and king. "You grieve, Majesty," he said as softly and comfortingly as he could manage. "It is all for the good of your people. Surely you wish to do right by your own people, do you not?"

The tears fell steadily now, and Wufei shamefully did nothing to wipe them away. "How can I do right by my people," he said, collapsing onto his bed, "when I cannot even do right by the ones closest to me?"

Heero struggled to bite back the wild cries confined in his chest, determined to remedy his husband's needs before his own. He did not speak, for words would only anger Wufei, but a gentle hand upon a shoulder brought comfort, and kneeling to the floor gave testimony to his undying loyalty.

<Sacrifices must be made for the good of LaGrange, my lord and husband. I am grateful to be your loyal courtesan, and I would be a fool to demand you put me before your people. Do not shed such bitter tears over one so useless as I. What have I done for the kingdom?> The brunette rested his uninjured cheek upon His Majesty's shoulder, closing his eyes as though willing his body to absorb the shuddering sobs and sorrow he only wished his lover was not burdened with. His own words ached in his chest and belly like venom, but deep in his heart he knew the truth of it.