I do not own the “Gundam
Wing” characters, nor did I make any money off of this project, so please no
suing. Various pairings, yaoi, AU.
The Completion Of Death
Tear the Fragile
Scarlet Feathers
Quatre’s
eyes turned to his hands for a moment; his palms being the first thing he was
aware of. With a great effort, his raised his gaze and noted the plain room
that surrounded him. Gray stone walls encircled him, each brick perfect and
solid, impenetrable, with no windows in sight. The ceiling disappeared into an
oblivion of blackness some twenty feet above his head while the floor was a
bland gray with dirt and dust covering it in a thin sheet. No source of light
was visible, but there seemed to be some magical illumination that kissed
everything in a dim glow.
He
felt his long silk ceremonial robes swish across his slippered feet. With a
confused, yet steady hand, the young king brushed a few errant strands of
golden hair away from his face only to feel the cool jewels of his crown
resting atop his head.
He
swept the room once more with his eyes, this time noting he had two companions
with him. One young man stood off to the left of him, face impassive and
dispassionate, absolutely unreadable. Dark hair sat, unruly, on his head,
licking eagerly at the soft flesh of his smooth cheeks. His icy cerulean eyes
glared forward, directly at the young lord, analyzing, evaluating. A green
tunic hung off his lean form, while black breeches gripped his lower body. From
his back protruded a set of perfect, pure white wings, each feather a flawless
work of art. They flapped once, rustling the dust from it’s resting place on
the dank floor, then settled against his back.
The
third person in the room stood huddled within the dark cover of a worn brown
cloak, the shadows grasping at the hem of the cloth and hiding the face under
the hood. The person stood perfectly still, not even moving to take breath so
it seemed, and made no sound.
“Who
are you?” Quatre asked, eyes flashing back and forth between them.
“That
is unimportant,” the dark haired boy growled. “It is time for you to decide.”
“Decide?”
the king asked again. “I don’t understand! Please, explain this!”
The
boy raised a brown eyebrow, and then cocked his head. “You have something that
is mine, Quatre Raberba Winner. It is up to you to chose whether or not to give
it to me.”
The
sea colored eyes lit up with recognition. “So, you are Heero,” he whispered.
His hands unconsciously drifted to his chest. “You are here for the soul. Well,
you can have it! I shall not stop you!”
The
being in the shadows finally spoke up, the voice smooth as satin. “You should
be careful to think such a thing through before making such an important
decision.”
Quatre
whirled at the sound, his robes twisting and finally settling. “What do you
mean?”
“You
could be giving up a part of yourself,” the voice hissed.
“That’s
not possible!” the lord shouted, shaking his head. “That soul is someone
else’s!”
Heero
took a step forward, eyes gleaming. “My soul…the death of the world…”
Quatre
stood his ground, hands curled into tight fists at his side. “That soul is not
the death of life! Duo has told me everything! You are mistaken and clouded by
the words of The Voice!” His face turned to the cloaked figure. “Now, what did
you mean?”
“That
soul was with you since the day you were born unto this world,” the being
explained, taking slow steps out of the shadows. “It has roots within you,
tendrils that have seeped into your own soul. To release that may be to release
part of yourself.”
Quatre
swept a hand across his body, eyes hard. “That does not matter. I will never
know unless I try.”
“You
are brave,” the dark haired angel commented, voice even.
The
figure finally emerged fully from the shadows, discarding the cloak, allowing
it to slip to the floor in a huddle of brown wool. Quatre found himself staring
into familiar, ocean colored eyes, while golden wisps of satiny hair lapped at
soft, almost childish cheeks. Deep blue clothes, plain, nondescript, slightly
hung off a lean frame, the garments being the same frigid color of Heero’s
eyes.
Quatre
gasped, blinking. “You are me,” he whispered, taking a step back.
From
the back of the king’s twin protruded only one fair wing, on his right. It had
the same majestic beauty possessed in Heero’s wings; each feather a sheer white
that seemed to glow with it’s own source of illumination. It flapped, then
stuck outward, as if proclaiming its own power.
“I
am what you call your ‘gift’,” the boy whispered. “I am the ancient soul that
rests within you, the part that can feel what your eyes cannot see.”
“My
gift,” Quatre gasped, hands clutching unconsciously at his heart.
“You
may be putting the entire world in danger,” the one-winged angel said, almost
mockingly. “You may be killing yourself. Are you ready for that, Your
Highness?”
The
king looked at the clone of himself, confidence surrounding him completely. “I
will do what I must.”
“At
the expense of the world?” Heero shot out.
“The
world…shall never suffer!” Quatre said. “Duo would not allow such a thing. I
trust him. I am doing the right thing. I know this in my heart and it would
never steer me wrong.”
“So
be it,” the one-winged angel whispered. His head fell back, almost in ecstasy,
as small rivers of crimson began running down the edges of every pale feather,
meeting at the point and dripping onto the ground in a bloody waterfall. A pool
began to form on the floor, thick and tacky as more blood poured from the once
unblemished wing.
“This
blood, it is yours to carry for the rest of your life, young Quatre,” the
bleeding angel hissed. “This may be your future. Accept it or deny it now!”
The
king stalked to his twin, ignoring the detached look Heero was giving him some
five feet behind him. He slid his finger along one of the feathers, taking the
blood and streaking it down his right cheek like a scarlet tear. “I will do
what I must. Accept!”
Sea-green
eyes leveled at the boy ruler. “Life shall be forever altered. So be it!” A
light flashed, blinding and burning, touching everything in sight.
Quatre
leaned his head back, screaming, as the light found its way inside his mouth
and stole his voice, leaving him silently yelling as tears of gold ran down his
cheeks.
“Quatre!
Wake up! Please, my lord!”
The
boy clawed to the surface, his eyes fluttering open and falling onto the
concerned face of Trowa, who stood hovering over him. The blonde boy tried to
smile, but it refused to come alive on his tired mouth. Struggling, he sat up,
his hand resting against his forehead.
He
looked around, noting the semi-familiar setting of the inn’s room they had
opted to stay at the night before. His blankets fell from his body, revealing
his heaving naked chest. Glittering sunlight streaked in through an open
window, the sweet smell of flowers filling the room.
“I’m
sorry, Trowa,” he whispered, turning his face away, embarrassed. “Did I wake
you?”
“No,”
the taller boy replied, taking a seat beside his king. “You were screaming. Are
you all right?”
“Yes,
yes,” Quatre answered. “I’m fine.”
Trowa
slipped his hand over the other boy’s, interlocking the fingers. “Good.”
Quatre
slipped out of Trowa’s comforting gesture and rose to his feet, allowing the
blanket to completely fall away. Naked, he padded across the floor to his
clothes, slipping the blue silk tunic over his head and the black breeches over
the rest of him. He took a seat on a wooden chair and began lacing up his tall
leather boots. “When are we leaving?”
Trowa
noted to coolness that radiated off his lord, but dismissed it for being the
aftermath of his apparent nightmare. He rose and began to dress as well,
finally fastening his sword to his waist. “As soon as you are ready.”
“Good,”
Quatre muttered. “Wake them up, please, Trowa. I would like to get started as
soon as possible.”
“Go
away!” Duo muttered into his pillow.
“We
are leaving in a few minutes,” Trowa said through the wooden bedroom door.
The
demon rolled over, throwing his pillow at the source of the noise. “Five more
minutes!”
“Be
ready or we shall leave without you!” ordered the Knight, which was followed
with the sound of his retreating footsteps.
The
demon sat up, rubbing his eyes with balled-up fists like a child. He nosily
yawned, stretching his arms at their length. He looked down to the left of him,
noting the blinking sloe eyes of Wufei.
Duo
jumped from the bed and bounded across the floor to his clothes. “I hope you
slept all right, Wufei.”
“Aye,”
the general muttered. “No thanks to your kicking, however.”
“Yeah,”
murmured the demon, pulling his tunic over his head. “I’ve been told I move a
lot in my sleep. Too bad they didn’t have another room for you to stay in, or
even another bed! Oh, well.”
“I
am glad to see that you obviously slept well,” Wufei muttered, grabbing his
clothes from the floor and slipping them on underneath the shield of the
blankets.
“It
was the first time I’ve shared a bed with someone in years,” he whispered,
almost wistfully. He brought his loose hair over his shoulder and began running
a small silver comb through it. “Just think about it, though! You can say that
you slept with the Demon of Death and lived to tell about it!”
“You
make everything sound dirty and impure,” the general mumbled. “I shared a bed
with you only because there was no possible way I would sleep on the floor!”
The
demon began plaiting the long chestnut locks, smirking all the while. “My
version sounds a lot more fun,” he said.
The
door creaked open and Quatre poked his head in, observing the scene around him.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked, cheerfully.
“Yes,
sire,” Wufei answered, pulling the shimmering obsidian silk of his hair back
into its customary severe ponytail.
“Good!”
the king replied, throwing open the door fully. He flashed them a large smile,
while Trowa stood, almost protectively, behind him. “The day is beautiful,
perfect for traveling!”
Duo
finished tying his braid and looked over to the blonde boy. His smile is a
little too big; it’s hollow. There’s something wrong. Fight with the Knight?
Maybe, but I doubt it. Something else…I sense…Heero…screaming. Damn. I want to
get this over with! Now!
“All
right! Let’s get going!” Duo chimed in, overly grinning like a drunken fool. He
bounded out the door, braid swinging after him like a tail. The others
exchanged looks and shrugs, and then followed the demon out.