Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing boys, nor am I making any money off of this. The ideas of a Confessor and Mord-Sith are from Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth novels. Many of the names of the locations, such as Kunark and Faydwer and Erudin are taken from the awesome game Everquest. Pairings: 1+2 3+4 Warnings: Shounen-ai Once again, I thank my awesome beta reader Betty for all her hard work and encouragement; also I want to thank all the readers who requested more Confessor. Here it is! ^_^ Mord-Sith! The third arc of the Confessor Series Part 1 -The disaster at Bitterroot left the GGoolgathan Empire vulnerable to attacks from other kingdoms. Odin Lowe was forced to defend his empire from assaults by the southern kingdoms of Kunark and Faydwer. By committing his armies to his southern borders, he had to temporarily abandon his plans for control of the Midlands. After three years of skirmishes, the King of Kunark suddenly surrendered with no apparent reason. Left to fight on its own, Faydwer went on the defensive, fighting desperately for its very survival. General Treize Khushrenada, Overlord of the Midlands and Oz, grew worried as reports indicated the imminent fall of Faydwer. Fearing that the Emperor might then renew his attack on the Midlands and not knowing exactly why Kunark surrendered, Treize suspected that the Emperor might have a new weapon to use against them. Once again the Midlands began making preparations to defend themselves. - --History of the Midlands vol. XXXIV Trowa Barton was busy guarding an empty corridor. Since his recent promotion, the brown-haired scout had enjoyed the privilege of standing at attention for hours on end, ready to defend with his life a place where no ne'er-do-well would dare show his face. And to think he'd 'volunteered' for this privilege. Mentally he counted the hours until he could contact his beloved. They had agreed that regular limited mental contact would be best, twice a week or so, while he faithfully watched vacant passageways and closed doors. To pass the time, he rehearsed what he would say to Quatre when they could finally be together for those few precious few minutes. For six months he had guard duty. Then he could return to the blond mage that had stolen his heart over three years ago. Quatre was now stationed in Halas, the capital of the Sank Kingdom, because it was the closest Midland country to Erudin, the capital of the Golgathan Empire and the Palace of Light. The latter was presently the current residence of one Trowa Barton, former ranger and scout, now turned infiltrator and spy. He hadn't wanted the job. Quatre hadn't wanted him to take it either. But when Howard, head of Oz intelligence, asked Trowa to do it, the emerald-eyed young man couldn't say no. When asked why the request was for Trowa, Howard had pointed out that Trowa was very observant, unobtrusive and could take care of himself in a jam. He could also survive on his own for months on end. Plus, he was permanently linked telepathically with a mage so he could send and receive vital reports instantly. Additionally, it was hoped that Quatre's power could shield him from any random scans done by the Emperor or one of his minions. In Howard's opinion, Trowa would be the perfect spy. Right now, the perfect spy was busy counting the marble tiles on the floor for the good of the Midlands. The echoing of boot heels as they clicked along the corridor interrupted his counting. As he stood at attention, he watched the approaching figure out of the corner of his eye. As the person came nearer, his body tensed ever so slightly. It was a woman dressed in skintight red leather. A slim leather-wrapped rod swung from a chain on her wrist. Her incredibly long blond hair was pulled back in a single braid and her wide blue eyes had an unsettling gleam that made him fervently wish he could be invisible. He had been warned that Dorothy Catalonia was back. She had been attending the Emperor at his campaign in Faydwer prior to Trowa's stationing at the Palace. But his superiors had warned him about her. She was widely known for her perverted 'appetites' as well as putting her unwilling lovers in hospitals, if not the mortuaries. The Captain of the Guard had complained to Odin Lowe about her on several occasions, but she was Mord-Sith, and there was really nothing the guards could do about her. The other Mord-Sith were not as bad, at least as far as the guards were concerned. But they were all undeniably chillingly abnormal. Une was rumored to have ice water in her veins, rather than blood. Mariemeia, the youngest of the Mord-Sith was downright sadistic. Those three, Dorothy, Une and Mariemeia were the Emperor's favorites; but there were other Mord-Sith as well. All Mord-Sith were women for the simple reason that women could withstand more pain than men. Being able to understand pain was what the Mord-Sith were trained for. They understood it so well that they knew exactly how to use it to its best advantage. To this end, their main weapon was the Agiel, a small rod wrapped in red leather. Somehow, that innocent-looking tool could create excruciating intense pain in its victims through the use of magic. Trowa didn't understand exactly how it worked, but he had seen a three hundred pound man drop like a felled ox by a single touch of the Agiel. All this ran through Trowa's mind as he apprehensively tracked her progress. He breathed a premature sigh of relief as she stalked past his position. As if sensing this, she stopped and slowly turned around. Her blue eyes, the color of the clear winter sky, traveled first down, then up his body. Her full lips twisted in a leering grin as she took at step closer to him. "You're new, aren't you?" she purred throatily. Trowa resisted the urge to clutch defensively at his uniform and forced himself to nod once. He fixed his gaze at the far wall, futily hoping that she would continue on her way. She stepped nearer and he could feel her breath on his cheek as she leaned against him. He forced himself not to flinch as she started to run her hands down his chest and over his flat stomach. Trowa concentrated with all his might on a slight crack in the wall, willing his body not to shudder in disgust at her intruding hands. Her scent filled his nostrils. She smelled of leather and blood. Her hands moved lower, below his belt and he heard her slight intake of breath as she felt him. "Oooh, you're going to be fun," she purred like a large cat, rubbing the entire length of her body against him. Trowa was seriously considering blowing his cover by pushing her away when a cheerful male voice interrupted them. "Hey, Dorothy! They need your help interrogating that latest batch of Faydwer officers they just brought in. And will you tell Une that I'm not her personal errand boy? If she wants to send a message, get one of the servants, that's what they're here for. Hey, who's this? Geez, what did you do to him Dorothy? He looks like he's seen a ghost!" The person was right. Trowa had indeed turned pale. It took every shred of willpower Trowa possessed not to turn and look at the speaker, lest he call more attention to himself, but he knew that voice. It belonged to someone who had died three years ago. Trowa forced himself to breath and stay upright because his knees suddenly seemed very weak. "Maxwell, tell Une that I'll be there when I feel like it!" Dorothy snapped her hand still working between his legs and her other hand buried itself in his thick brown hair. Her teeth found the sensitive skin on his neck and bit down hard. Trowa's jaw tightened. He did not know how much more of that he could take before he screamed. "Fine," the voice said with supreme indifference. "I'll just tell Une that you were too busy playing with the guards again to interrogate General Marquise." That got her. General Marquise was almost a myth among the Golgathans. He was rumored to be incredibly handsome; combined with tactical brilliance and high charisma, he was a dream come true for a Mord-Sith to break. Dorothy unglued herself from Trowa and her winter eyes came alive with anticipation. "Well, if General Marquise is here, I'd better make sure Une utilizes.suitably appropriate methods for the questioning." She all but licked her lips at the thought. With a last leering glance at Trowa, she stalked quickly down the corridor, her boots hammering the floor in her haste. "Hey man, if I were you, I'd seriously consider talking to my superior about transferring to the battle front. You'd be safer there. Dorothy can get pretty creative with her lovers and from what I hear they don't have nearly as much fun as she does," Duo said cheerfully, yet with a trace of seriousness underneath. Trowa had forgotten all about the Mord-Sith though. All he could see was Duo Maxwell, the only Confessor left alive after Treize's purging. Duo was supposed to be dead after unleashing the chaotic magic that destroyed Bitterroot and a third of Odin Lowe's army, not to mention completely devastating some 1200 square miles of the Korona Plains. Duo looked the same as he had when Trowa last saw him, standing alone in Bitterroot, as Quatre, Wufei and himself had walked through the gate that allowed them to escape. His thick fall of long chestnut hair was braided neatly in a single plait. He was wearing fitted black trousers that molded to his slender frame. The black shirt that was tucked into his pants was looser, with snug cuffs and collar. He was also wearing black gloves and boots. The only splash of color other than his hair and violet eyes was the silver sword-belt he wore on his hips. It looked like it had gotten a lot of use. What Duo was doing here in the Palace of Light, Trowa couldn't fathom. The fact that he was on a first name basis with the Mord-Sith was disturbing. Duo started talking again, distracting Trowa from his shock-induced paralysis. "You're new, aren't you? Just give Dorothy a wide berth and you'll be fine," counseled the Confessor as he turned to walk away. Then he stopped and looked back at Trowa. "By the way, tell your superior to let you lay low for a while. General Marquise isn't really here; I just made that up so she'd leave you alone. She's going to be pissed when she finds out and she tends to break things when she's pissed. Things like furniture, windows, guards, you name it. Be careful." He started to walk away, his soft boots whispering against the stone floor. Trowa finally found his voice. "Thank you sir. May I ask your name, sir?" he asked. He was supposed to be new and have no idea whom he was addressing. It seemed that he should acknowledge his rescuer to stay in character. Duo stopped and turned his head, his voice carrying a hint of steel as he replied over his shoulder with a grin. "I'm Duo Maxwell." He turned and continued walking away but Trowa's sharp ears heard the last comment murmured with a bitter self-mocking amusement. "the bringer of death." Trowa could only stand and stare at the wall in front of him again. He was too shocked to even feel relief that his infiltration had not been discovered. His mind refused to stop running in little circles as he replayed the astounding events over and over again. Despite all they had gone through three years ago, Duo didn't seem to recognize him at all. General Treize leaned back in his chair and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Since becoming Overlord of the Midlands and Oz, the paperwork seemed to have tripled. 'It's one of the drawbacks of ruling more than one country,' he thought wryly, 'not only do you have to deal with your own problems, you have to deal with everyone else's as well.' The latest communiqué from the Sank Kingdom had him concerned. Queen Relena wanted to lead a diplomatic mission to Erudin and open peace talks with Odin Lowe. He shook his head at that one. Just because Golgatha hadn't yet tried to renew its attack on the Midlands, didn't mean that they should invite the Emperor's attention any sooner than necessary. Treize knew it was only a matter of time before Odin would try again. Relena was too idealistic for her own good, and now it was Treize's obligation as Overlord to save them all from the Sank Queen's good intentions. He sipped his tea, and shuffled the stack of papers he had just finished off to one side; then he reached for the next stack. Speaking of missions, this pile contained the mission reports. Glancing at the top sheet, his heart sank in his chest. It was Major Heero Yuy's report on the mission to the Kithicor Woods. That place had been stiff with bandits and thieves and murderers. Two months ago, Heero had taken a company of soldiers and set out to clean out the huge forest. According to the report, the mission was a complete success. Treize scowled in annoyance. He didn't know what he was going to do with Major Yuy. That mission should have taken them at least four months to complete, if not more. If Heero kept it up, there would soon be no more evil left to fight in the Midlands. Treize shuddered at that thought. He would rather have to deal with outlaws and monsters than Heero Yuy without a mission. Three years ago, Heero had been an intense soldier, but a human soldier. He had cared about his men and once, rumor had it, when he thought no one was looking, he had relaxed. Then came the mission to Bitterroot. After that, Heero was no longer an intense soldier, now he was a perfect soldier. He showed no compassion, just a single-minded determination to complete the mission, no matter the cost. Men were no longer willing to volunteer to go with him. Well, there was one that would. The blademaster Chang Wufei was always more than willing to accompany his former commander. Wufei liked teaching swordsmanship to the soldiers, but sometimes, when he wanted a break, he would go with Heero on whatever mission Treize had designated for them. Those missions were the worst. Men had to be paid triple their monthly pay and even then Treize had to resort to threats to get a squad to support those two. Major Yuy lived for the sole purpose of his missions. He had refused promotion after promotion. He only came alive when he had an enemy to fight. The more dangerous the mission, the better, as far as Heero was concerned. Treize remembered when he had sent Heero and a group of men to investigate the report of gnoll activity at Splitpaw. Gnolls were a huge, mangy, semi-intelligent dog-like creature that viciously attacked any humans in their area. The report had been accurate up to a point, but it had failed to mention the reavers as well. Reavers were more intelligent than their gnoll cousins, and better fighters. Though discovering both types of creatures in the area, Heero didn't wait for back up; instead he started an attack on the gnolls. After a long and bloody battle, the soldiers triumphed. Though many were injured, most had lived. Heero had suffered several severe lacerations but resisted medical attention. Instead of resting his men and himself, he promptly led an attack on the reavers. This time things went poorly for the soldiers. They were backed against a cliff, fighting for their lives when Heero single-handedly charged the enemy. The soldiers later reported the Major fought like a man possessed. Hacking down reaver after reaver, he became covered in blood and gore, some of it his own. Finally, after the remains of the company had joined in, the reavers were driven off. Instead of resting, now Heero gave chase. Only after hunting down each and every one of them did he stop. A knock on the door drew Treize's attention back to the here and now. Howard poked his head in and asked "Do you have a minute, sir?" "Howard, for you I have a couple of minutes," he grinned at the skinny gray-haired man. Howard didn't seem too interested in the joke though. He entered the office and made his way to the General's desk, carrying a stack of papers. His face was pinched with worry and Treize felt a slight sliver of unease worm its way through his stomach. He had seen this look on his Intelligence Officer before and it did not portend good. "What is it?" he asked, keeping his disquiet from his tone. "I have the latest reports Erudin. Odin captured Kelethin about two months ago." Treize didn't move. Kelethin was the capital of Faydwer. Treize had been hoping that Faydwer would keep Odin Lowe busy for at least another year. It seemed that now such hope was dead. He frowned. "I thought they were at a standoff. Why didn't we find out until now?" "They were. His army hasn't moved from where it had been camped at the border between the two countries. The lack of troop movement fooled us into thinking that nothing had happened. However he got King Dorlian to surrender, it wasn't through military means. But now his army is pouring into Faydwer and there's no resistance. The King had officially signed a surrender." Howard had also received a report from Quatre Winner in the Sank Kingdom. This one scared the living hell out of him. Treize seemed to pick up on something from his posture. His eyes narrowed as he said, "What else is there, Howard? You know something." Howard nodded ruefully, trying to phrase his words in such a way as to lessen the shock. "Do you remember the Confessor, Duo Maxwell?" he asked. Treize nodded. Of course he remembered Duo. The young man had been the most beautiful and deadly being Treize had ever met. If it weren't for Duo, the entire population of the Sank Kingdom would have been massacred at the hands of Odin Lowe's army. The Confessor had sacrificed his life to save them. Treize could never forget that. Howard took a deep breath and continued. "He isn't dead sir." Treize blinked. "Not dead?" He digested that, and then asked, "Where is he?" "At the Palace of Light in Erudin." This was not good. Treize tried to think. "Is he a prisoner?" Howard shook his head. "Not according to Quatre Winner. It seems that Duo Maxwell is a member of Odin Lowe's personal guard. Not a Mord-Sith, but something close to it." Treize was floored. "How?" was all he could think to ask. Howard shrugged. "According to Quatre, it seems that he didn't recognize Trowa Barton at all. Maybe what happened at Bitterroot affected his memory. We do know that the Emperor had another company of soldiers in the area and they could have found Maxwell before the Maguanocs searched the site." Treize thought about it. In a way it made sense. "Odin Lowe is very smart. If a Confessor were to fall into his hands, don't you think that he would take full advantage of the situation?" Howard pressed. "It would explain how he could take over both Kunark and Faydwer without using his army. All he would have to do is send Duo in and, in a matter of minutes, the Confessor could enslave the entire command structure, from royalty on down," Treize thought aloud. Howard nodded. Just by himself, Duo could sweep through a castle like a plague. In the old days when the only Confessors were female, it would have taken several dozen to do what Duo could alone. Male Confessors were so powerful they had been killed at birth for generations. Duo's mother had died in childbirth, hiding from Treize's purging of the powerful race. She hadn't told anyone to kill her child if it was a male, so Duo was allowed to live and had reached young adulthood, inadvertently discovering his powers along the way. "We don't know for sure that is the case," Howard spoke at last. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What really scares me is if Odin were to have Duo repeat what he did in Bitterroot here in Virimonde, we'd be powerless to stop it." Treize drew in a breath, and then let it out again. He considered his options very, very carefully. "We cannot live with this hanging over our heads, Howard. We have to eliminate this threat, for it is more of a threat than the entire Golgathan army. We have been very lucky that Odin Lowe has not yet acted against us. But we can no longer rely on luck. For whatever reason the Emperor has held back, it will become his biggest mistake." Treize paused, deciding his course of action. "We will send a small strike force to eliminate Maxwell. It will be led by Major Heero Yuy and consist of his former comrades, Chang Wufei and Quatre Winner. They can meet with Trowa Barton in Erudin. They are our most experienced with dealing with Confessors." Howard frowned. "It is very risky. Maxwell might recognize one of the others and give them away before they can complete the mission," he pointed out. Treize agreed. "I know, but we have to take that chance. Major Yuy is the only one I trust that will complete the mission no matter what. And he needs people that he trusts to watch his back, that means Winner and Chang and Barton." Howard sighed; he knew Treize was right. "O.K., where is the Major right now?" Treize smiled. "I sent him to check out a rumor of bandits in the Eastern Mountains." Seeing Howard's raised eyebrows he added defensively, "O.K., we both know there aren't any bandits in the Eastern Mountains, but you never know, some might have moved in since the last time Heero was between missions. Besides, having Major Yuy here in Virimonde without a purpose is a disaster waiting to happen. Send Chang Wufei to find him and go on to Halas to pick up Winner. They will receive their orders there. It seems that Queen Relena will get her mission to Erudin after all, just not in the form she expected." "You're going to send Relena?" Howard asked, horrified. Treize shook his head in amusement. "No, I don't think that Odin would respect a ruler that ran her own errands. There is someone here who is better suited to lead a 'diplomatic' mission." "Who?" Howard asked curiously. Treize looked up from where he had already begun to draft his orders for the mission. With a smile he answered, "Quatre Winner." Trowa Barton decided to take Duo's advice and speak to the Captain of the Guard. He found his superior officer getting ready for a late inspection. "So you met Dorothy, did you? I'm surprised that you're still in one piece." The Captain shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket. He really didn't like the blond Mord-Sith. Trowa needed more information for Quatre to send to Howard, now was the perfect opportunity to ask 'innocent' questions. "A young man with long hair in a braid came by and saved me," Trowa started his information gathering expedition. "He said his name was Duo Maxwell." "Ah, that would be the Confessor. He's been at the battlefront since before you got here so you wouldn't know about him, I guess. Dorothy found him about three years ago at Bitterroot. When she brought him to the Emperor, the poor thing couldn't even remember his own name. However, the Mord-Sith are trained to recognize magical creatures so she knew what he was right away." "So what happened?" Trowa prompted. "Emperor Lowe turned him over to Sylvia, another Mord-Sith for special 'training'." Trowa caught the slight emphasis on the word training. Obviously it meant something important. "Unfortunately for her, she didn't realize what the boy could do and pushed him too far." Seeing Trowa's puzzled expression, the Captain explained while he put on his boots. "A Mord-Sith will provoke a magic user until one uses its power against her. When the Mord-Sith are attacked by magic, they are able to somehow catch the power and hold onto it, turning it back on the user. When that happens, the Mord-Sith has total control of that person, through his or her own magic. I don't entirely understand it, but that's how it's said to work and I've seen enough to know that it does." "So this Mord-Sith provoked the Confessor?" Trowa asked, trying to keep the flow of information going. "Oh yes. But what she didn't realize was that when she tried to catch the Confessor's power, it caught her. She went insane and ended up dying. But it wasn't quite instantaneous. I think her mind was ripped apart by the conflicting powers. I can still hear her screaming in my nightmares." The Captain shuddered. "So, then what happened?" Trowa asked, completely absorbed in the story. "The Emperor tried again, this time with Une. Une is one cold lady, I'll tell you. Being around a creature that powerful would scare the living hell out of me. But somehow, she got the job done. Little by little, he began to remember things, his name and such. By this time the war with Kunark and Faydwer was well underway and the Emperor decided to test his new toy." Trowa raised his visible eyebrow in a silent question. "I guess it's not a secret now that the only thing the Emperor had to do was send in Maxwell and some backup. All the backup had to do was get him to the King of Kunark and Maxwell could do the rest." The Captain looked at the sundial and saw that he was going to be late for inspection if he didn't hurry. "Don't worry, I'll rotate you away from Dorothy's quarters. She should forget about you soon enough," he smiled reassuringly at Trowa and exited the room. Trowa decided to take a few minutes to compose himself, then find a quiet spot to contact Quatre. Major Heero Yuy had just settled fully clothed into his blanket for the night. He was a very light sleeper and would awaken at any suspicious noise. He had known there weren't any bandits here in the Eastern Mountains, but went through the motions anyway. It was better to be doing something, because when he was busy working on a mission, he wasn't thinking about the past. He lay on his back, watching the bright pinpricks of light overhead. The two moons were beginning to rise, so only the brightest stars were visible through the canopy of trees. He knew this general area very well. It was forever ingrained in his memory. This was the place where Wufei, Trowa and Quatre had camped the night after they had executed the deserters. He himself hadn't spent the night here with them though. He had spent it in a nearby clearing, holding Duo in his arms as the Confessor slept. Shaking his head to get rid of the memory, Heero closed his eyes and began a steady count. He could feel his body relax as the first soft wave of sleep lapped at his consciousness. The forest noises filtered through his awareness, soothing him to rest. He was just starting to sink deeper into the darkness when something snapped him awake. It might have been a sound, but he wasn't really sure he heard it. It hovered on the edge of his senses, teasing him by lingering just out of reach. He sat up, all his senses keyed to the utmost, trying to locate what it was that demanded his presence in the conscious world. It seemed to be calling him, and he stood up, trying to zero in on the source of the call. It came from the direction of the clearing; Heero realized and felt a deep reluctance to go further. He tried to turn away but his feet betrayed him. Like a dream walk, his body continued to go forward, despite his mind's protests. He walked a long time, nearly an hour before the trees began to open up and he could see the clearing ahead. Heero made his way to the edge of the clearing; the twin silver full moons overhead gave the night an unreal dreamlike quality. The fragrant aspens towered over him; the giant sentinels silently guarded their domain with eternal watchfulness. Not a bough stirred in the utterly still air, yet somehow the night was alive with a subtle power that tingled along his nerve endings like a cobweb against his skin. The soft burble of the stream across the clearing chattered a quiet welcome and soothed the unconscious tension from his shoulders. Silently he stepped out into the moonlight and froze. In the clearing in front of him a shadow had stirred, catching his eye. His cobalt eyes widened in shock as recognition flashed through their depths. Shinigami was standing in the center of the clearing, watching him. The shadowmare was bathed in the silver radiance of the moons; her midnight hide absorbing the light and radiating it back in an ethereal glow. Heero was almost afraid to move, even to blink, lest the image before him would fade into a cruel illusion. His aching chest reminded him of his need for air and he drew a breath, the aspen-perfumed air cool in his lungs. A precious memory quietly worked its way up from the depths of his mind where he had ruthlessly shoved it. Almost unwillingly he tore his gaze from Shinigami to a single aspen near the stream, seeking a slender figure that had waited for him under the emerald canopy. There was no one there. The shadowmare drew his eyes once more as she walked silently toward him. She halted three feet from him and extended her long arching neck. Her breath was warm on his cheek as she nuzzled him; shattering the fear the she was an illusion. He brought his hand up and stroked the downy muzzle. The huge liquid eyes stared into his cobalt ones, and for the first time in three years the tight bands around his heart loosened, just the tiniest bit. Another movement beside him spun him around. Standing nearby was another horse. This one was purest silver in the moonlight. Heero couldn't tell if that was its true color or the moons' doing. Inspecting the new horse, he saw that this one was quite young, two years perhaps, or maybe a little older. Its long legs indicated that it was going to be big, but perfectly proportioned. The colt seemed familiar to Heero. It fact it bore a striking resemblance to. "Wing" he breathed. It was a colt, born of Shinigami by Wing. It pranced up to him and he noted it had its mother's stealthy abilities. He wondered if it had her speed. He held out his hand, letting the colt learn his scent. The young stallion shook its head and pushed Heero's chest with its nose, forcing him back a step. Feeling Shinigami's breath on the back of his neck, he glanced up at the mare. She looked him back squarely in the eye and turned, facing to the south. She drew in a breath and whinnied. Heero had never heard the shadowmare before and that clarion call seared his soul. Without a sound she bolted, effortlessly clearing the stream as she ran. In a span of a second, she was gone. The colt pushed against Heero again, drawing his attention from the vanished shadowmare. He stroked the sinewy neck, murmuring quiet words of reassurance. He had already decided that he was going to call the colt Wing. "Why Wing? Why not something new, original, or creative?" Wufei asked two days later when he found Heero and his horses in a nearby village, picking up supplies. Heero was just putting the saddle on his gelding when Wufei rode up and hailed him. Heero just shrugged. He didn't know why he chose that name; he just felt that the colt wanted it. He didn't know how to explain it to the bladesmaster when Wufei had inquired about the colt standing nearby. "What is the mission?" he asked instead. Wufei recognized the change of subject and grinned. "We are supposed to meet Quatre in Halas. Then we'll get the rest of the orders. Treize said to hurry." Heero finished tightening the girth on his horse. He had started working the colt a little. It was very intelligent and caught on fast. But Heero wanted to take his time and train the colt right. By the time they reached the Sank Kingdom, he figured it should be ready to ride. Climbing into his saddle, he turned his current mount, a non-descript chestnut gelding, to the road heading southeast. He had noticed right away that Wufei had a new horse as well. Seeing Heero eyeing his horse, Wufei grinned and stroked the paint mare's neck. "I won Altron in last month's contest." Shenlong, his ill-tempered gray mare that he had previously ridden was turned out to pasture, where she could run and graze on luscious grass until her heart was content. It was her reward for the years of faithful service to Wufei. The contest Wufei was referring to was a sword tournament that Treize held once a year for the top swordsmen in the kingdom. Wufei had missed the previous years because he was away on missions. The latest tournament was his first and he had won easily. Altron was one of the prizes, as well as a new sword and a large purse full of gold. Heero had known that Wufei would win. It was inevitable simply because Wufei was the best swordsman alive. He didn't say so, but he was glad that he would be reunited with the others. He had a bad feeling about the upcoming mission and he wanted men he could trust at his back. Heero allowed a slight smile to play across his lips, it felt odd. He hadn't smiled since the day he had found out that Duo was dead. "Lets go," he said and set off at a canter, with Wufei alongside. There was a mission waiting to be completed. "Heero, Duo's alive." Quatre Winner announced to his empty sitting room. He shook his head in frustration then tried again. "Heero, do you remember Duo? No! No! No! Stupid, of course he would remember Duo! Argh!" he exclaimed in frustration, slamming his fist into the wall and yelping in the resulting pain as he shook his throbbing hand. Heero and Wufei would be arriving in Halas within the next week and Quatre still had to figure out a way to break the news to the cobalt-eyed soldier that the chestnut haired Confessor who had won Heero's heart had not only not died at Bitterroot three years ago, but was now helping the enemy. Worst of all, they had orders to go to Erudin to kill him. The blond mage exhaled forcefully and tried in vain to think of the least painful way to share this news with Heero. He heard laughter behind him and whirled around. Relena was standing in the doorway watching him. He bowed briefly as she stepped into the room, still smiling. Since he had been staying indefinitely at Halas, he had his own quarters at the castle. "It's hard, isn't it?" she observed sympathetically as she sat down on a soft bench. Quatre poured some tea; it was still a bit warm from the kettle the kitchen had sent up earlier. She nodded her thanks as she sipped the tangy liquid. "Yes, it is," he sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to tell him about the mission. He spent the last three years thinking that Duo was dead. I think in a way he blames himself. He had promised Duo that he would be there for him, and then Bitterroot destroyed that." Quatre shook his head in sorrow. Relena studied the blue-eyed mage carefully. She understood how difficult it was to be diplomatic and the upcoming situation required careful handling. When the five soldiers had arrived in Halas before Bitterroot, Heero had been alive with vital energy; the spark in his eyes was bright with purpose, and something else. Relena hadn't realized what it was until after Bitterroot. When Heero had awakened and learned the outcome of the mission, she saw that spark extinguished; later it would be replaced with the sullen glow of obsession. Relena wasn't blind. She had seen the way the soldier had looked at the Confessor, and vice versa. Her heart ached for them, and now when they would meet again, Heero would have to kill Duo. It made her question what god they had offended to be put through this. "I am afraid that no matter how you break the news to him, it will be a shock. Remember how you felt when Trowa contacted you?" she asked. Quatre shuddered at the memory. He could still feel the white static of shock from Trowa's mind as the emerald-eyed spy reported the incredible news. He had felt the same and had to sit down. He had tried to reassure Trowa but Quatre himself was reeling and hadn't been much help. In the end they broke the contact and agreed to calm down before reestablishing the link. Later, when Quatre had urged Trowa to get out, the former scout had maintained that Duo hadn't recognized him and wouldn't blow his cover. He hadn't seen Duo except for that one time, but for now, he would continue to get more information. Seeing Quatre's despairing look, she reached over and patted his arm. "Heero is stronger than anyone I know. He will get through this. As will you, Quatre Winner. I'll send Paragon over later. He can work with you some more on being diplomatic, O.K.?" Quatre smiled thinly at the Queen and stood as she rose to her feet. He accompanied her to the door and bowed as she exited. She turned to him once more before she left. "Quatre, there is no power stronger than love. Impossible things have been accomplished in its name. Don't lose faith in its power." Then she turned and left. Quatre frowned, good advice but it still wouldn't help him find a way to tell Heero about the new mission. TBC