Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I know I said I would have this out last week, but as I explained to Kit, one of my favorite authors just published his latest book. It is over 900 pages, and because it takes so long between books, I didn't read it, I savored it. But enough excuses ^_^ Enjoy! Special thanks as always go out to Betty, my beta reader. And to Maria who always gets on my case whenever I start to slack off. Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Wing characters, nor am I making any money from this. The ideas of a Confessor and a Mord-Sith are from Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth novels and are borrowed without permission. Most of the locations are from the online game Everquest. Pairings: 1+2 3+4 Warnings: AU, Fantasy, Shounen-ai, Shouji-ai, Language and VIOLENCE Mord-Sith! The third arc of the Confessor Series Part 5 Palace of Light, Erudin When Heero Yuy entered the stables, he had been annoyed to find that there was someone else there as well, moving about in the tack room. The young major had come not only to check on Wing, but also to be alone. He thought about turning around and coming back later when the person had left. Then the person had emerged from the tack room, toweling off his face and Heero couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. Every night for three years he had seen that heart-shaped face and looked into those wide violet eyes. And every morning when he woke up, he knew with bitter understanding that they were forever beyond his reach. Now, through of some miracle, Duo was here, standing in front of him in the flesh, and all that separated them was a few feet of space. A few feet of space and the events at Bitterroot three years ago. He watched as Duo threw the towel back into the tack room and closed the door. His cobalt eyes traced the slender figure, noting that Duo had lost weight since Heero had seen him last. The long chestnut braid was still there and sweaty bangs hung messily over the huge violet eyes. His loose white shirt, damp with sweat, clung to his chest, defining every muscle. But something was different about him. Duo looked harder, less innocent than when Heero had seen him last. Some small noise alerted the young Confessor. Duo spun around and froze. Then, for a second that lasted an eternity, Heero and Duo stared at each other. Duo stood stock-still, not quite sure what to do. He couldn't tear his eyes from the dark-haired young man standing in front of him. It wasn't fear that immobilized him, for Duo feared no one. But for the briefest instant, there was a feeling that he should know this person, that he was somehow important. Then the feeling was gone, taking any momentary uncertainty with it, and Duo's gregarious nature reasserted itself. He grinned. "Hello, sorry, you just scared the hell out of me, I didn't see you standing there. I just came down to say goodnight to my horse. By the looks of your clothes I can see you're not from around here. Are you lost?" Duo knew he was babbling but the silent presence of the cobalt-eyed young man standing in front of him was starting to get a bit unnerving. He just stared at Duo with a burning intensity that seemed to bore right through the braided Confessor. The dark-haired soldier looked like he was about to reply when a noise drew their attention to the main doors of the stable. A guard was doing a routine check. "Crap!" Duo whispered. Turning back to the dark-haired soldier who hadn't moved his gaze from the violet eyed youth, he grinned ruefully. "Gotta go! I'm not supposed to be out without an escort. Nice to meet you! Bye!" and with that, Duo sprinted silently down the length of the aisle and out the far end of the stable. Heero stared after the retreating figure and slowly let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Duo hadn't known him. Stung, Heero walked over to Wing's stall. The moons' shade colt came to the door and extended his sleek neck to nuzzle the young man's unruly hair. Heero looked back at the door where Duo had disappeared. A thousand questions were running through his head, not the least of which was what was he going to do. Seeing Duo again brought back all the feelings he had for the young Confessor; three years of separation hadn't diminished them one whit. Absently he reached up and patted Wing's silver neck, unconsciously looking for comfort. Duo woke up the next morning to see Dorothy's face a few inches from his own and flung himself backward out of reflex. "Gyah!" he exclaimed intelligently as he went sprawling gracelessly off the far side of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Slowly, one hand appeared and grasped the covers, then another. Finally the top of a tousled chestnut head and two huge violet eyes peeked over the edge of the bed. Dorothy smiled, her winter eyes almost held a hint of spring. It made her pretty and Duo found the whole thing disconcerting in the extreme. Duo winced. "Don't do that! Do you know how disturbing that is?" Dorothy smirked, a more reassuring look. "Good morning, sleepyhead. Rise and shine! It's going to be another hot, lovely day! Want some breakfast?" She gestured to a tray of food sitting on the table. Duo shuddered as the Mord-Sith smiled at him once again. "All right, who are you and what have you done with Dorothy?" "Maxwell, grow up. It's just that the Emperor told me to look in on you. Here, eat. It's good," she helped herself to a muffin. Duo continued to eye the leather clad woman suspiciously as he made his way over to the table and sat down. "Ok, I give up, what's going on?" the Confessor picked up a banana and began to peel it. "A delegation from the Sank Kingdom came in yesterday. They want a peace treaty and to set up some trade agreements." Dorothy studied her muffin with casual interest. Duo bit off a piece of the banana and chewed thoughtfully. The Sank Kingdom was controlled by Oz. Did that mean that Treize wanted peace? "So what does that have to do with me?" he asked after he swallowed. "The Emperor would prefer it," she said in a manner that indicated it was much more than a request, "if your presence here wasn't known to them." "Ah." He got it. If Oz knew how Duo had helped the Emperor take over Kunark and Faydwer, Treize might be worried that the Emperor would do the same thing to Oz. Duo thought about it some more. He zeroed in on two facts: Treize was the one person who had a weapon that worried Odin Lowe enough to make him keep his distance and there was a delegation here in Erudin. A small seed of an idea sprouted in his mind. "Tell me about them." Seeing her suspicious look, he put on his best innocent face. "I just want to know who to look out for so I can avoid them." Dorothy didn't quite believe him, but couldn't find a logical reason why she shouldn't tell him. She shrugged. "There are three of them. The leader is a magic-user and the other two are mere soldiers." Duo needed more than that. There were so many people here in the Palace who were either magic-users or soldiers that it would take days, maybe even weeks, to figure out which ones were the Sank Kingdom delegation. As his restless mind seized on another idea, he jumped up. "Show them to me." "What? Maxwell, are you out of your mind? Wait, stupid question, of course you are. But I'm not going to risk getting into trouble by disobeying the Emperor." "C'mon Dorothy, what could it hurt? I just want to see them; we don't even have to be near them, we can peek into the Throne room from the balcony. What do you say?" He was starting for the door when she stopped him. "Don't you think you are a little underdressed? Or are you going to try to impress the rest of the Palace with your physique?" she mocked. Duo blushed. He had forgotten that in the heat he slept without clothes. "Oh yeah. Thanks. It's so hot here, not like the Midlands." He hastily pulled on his pants and a loose black top. "Why do you always wear black?" she asked without real interest. He looked at her as he laced up his boots and shrugged. "I don't know. I just like the color I guess." He finished and stood up. His braid was a mess from sleeping on it, but it would take too long to brush and re-braid it. Dorothy just shook her head. As they walked through the Palace, the guards and the servants greeted them respectfully and gave them both a wide berth. It was a toss-up as to which one of the pair was the most dangerous. There was a balcony that overlooked the Throne room that was currently empty. They lay down on their stomachs side by side so no one in the crowd of people milling about could casually look up and see them looking down. Even though the Emperor was not in attendance, the Throne room was full because the room was also a meeting hall for people from all over the empire. Dorothy looked over the throng. "There," she pointed first to a small blond young man and then to another with black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that were talking to some merchants near the far wall. "I thought you said there were three," Duo said. "There are, but I only see two." Dorothy answered with surprising patience. She scanned the room again, still unable to pick out the third Midlander. "Which one is the magic user?" Duo asked. "The good-looking blond is the magic user. But then that black-haired one is no slouch in the looks department either," Dorothy couldn't refrain from commenting. "How can you tell?" Duo had to agree with her assessment. They were both very good-looking. Dorothy rolled her winter eyes and dug her elbow into his ribs. "I am Mord-Sith, I can spot a magic-user a mile away." Duo ignored the jab as he studied the Midlanders. His idea was very risky, everything hinged on what type of people they were. If they were honorable, he had a chance. "If all the men in the Midlands are this good looking, I should encourage the Emperor to conquer it." Dorothy said as she studied the two young men below with ill-disguised hunger. Duo rolled his eyes, "Don't you ever get enough?" "Not with you around," she retorted. Both Dorothy and Duo were so engrossed in studying the two Midlanders that they didn't hear the click of boots right behind them. "What are you two doing?" a shrill voice demanded. Startled, both the Confessor and the Mord-Sith jumped up as they spun around, knocking their heads together in the process. "Oww," they groaned, rubbing their sore heads before turning to the person behind them. Mariemeia was standing behind them with her hands on her leather- clad hips, the Agiel swinging from the chain on her wrist. She smirked at their glares. "Didn't the Emperor tell you to keep Maxwell away from the Throne room?" she asked Dorothy with more than a hint of `I am telling the Emperor and you are going to be in so much trouble' in her shrill voice. Before Dorothy could say anything though, Duo stepped in. "It was my idea, Mariemeia, not Dorothy's." His voice was almost too casual. "So just what are you doing here?" the younger Mord-Sith questioned. "Nothing that you need to be concerned about, now why don't you just run along," Duo replied, his voice dripping with exaggerated patience, like an adult talking to a simple child. But Dorothy could sense tension in his slight frame and mentally cursed the redhead in front of them. Mariemeia should know better than to be found anywhere near the violet eyed young man. But the redhead refused to believe that Duo was truly the menace that she had been warned about time and again. The blond Mord-Sith understood how easy it could be to underestimate Duo Maxwell. He was unfailingly cheerful and, when he wasn't plagued with headaches, very energetic. He laughed and talked to everyone as an equal. The braided young man was witty, charming and graceful. He often helped servants with various chores, and it was a well-known secret that the guards would do anything for him. He brought light to the Palace that had lived too long under the specter of shadow. Mariemeia caught the tone in his voice and flushed with anger. "I think that you forget your place, Maxwell. You need a reminder of just how pathetic you are" Mariemeia sneered as she twirled her Agiel around her wrist. Dorothy mentally winced. Despite his usual pleasantness, there were times Duo could be pushed too far. He grew cold and his eyes turned dead. The Confessor emerged. Without seeming to move, Duo suddenly had his hand lightly around the redheaded Mord-Sith's neck. Dorothy was vaguely amused by the look of surprise and terror on Mariemeia's face. And Dorothy didn't blame her. Mariemeia was looking into the merciless eyes of the Confessor. Not even the Emperor could match that look. `Now will you finally believe what we have been telling you, Mariemeia?' Dorothy thought. `This one is more dangerous than any of us.' Duo, on the other hand, wasn't so amused. He ran his thumb lightly back and forth over the redhead's throat. "Are you planning on using that on me?" His voice was deceptively soft, and the air felt chilled, like inhaling over a glass of ice water. Dorothy knew if she didn't do something immediately, Duo would destroy Mariemeia. All the advantages were with the Confessor now; he was touching the young redhead. No matter what action Dorothy took, she couldn't move fast enough to stop him. All he had to do was think, and Mariemeia's life would be over. The older Mord-Sith decided to try to reason with him. "Maxwell, leave her alone, OK? She isn't worth what the Emperor would do to you if you killed her." The minute Dorothy said that, she knew she had said the wrong thing. Without taking his eyes away from his prey, he answered her in that soft, cold monotone. "What makes you think that I would let Odin Lowe do anything to me?" Dorothy's thoughts spun wildly at his words. The usual way to keep a person in line was severe punishment. But Duo, being unaffected by the Emperor's magic, had to willingly submit to it. If he decided that he was going to fight, there was nothing any of the Mord-Sith could do. So Dorothy tried another tack. "Maxwell, listen to me. You may not fear the Emperor, but I do! He will punish me if he finds out that I disobeyed him, and I don't want to spend the next three weeks relearning how to walk. Please, Duo, for my sake, let her go!" Dorothy couldn't hide the note of fear in her voice; she had been punished before. The Confessor turned and looked at the blond Mord-Sith. It was all she could do to control her shivering as she forced herself to return deadly calm gaze. Then the Confessor's eyes slowly softened into their usual violet. Duo nodded. "Very well, Dorothy. Just keep this bitch out of my sight." He released his grip and lowered his hand. Mariemeia quickly stepped out of reach and rubbed her throat, though there was no mark on it. Duo walked away, and the temperature slowly climbed back to where it rightly belonged. Dorothy turned to the redhead. "Are you so incredibly stupid? Why do you insist on provoking him?" Mariemeia glared at the blond Mord-Sith. "You heard how he was talking to me! I am not a child." Dorothy had no patience left. It had been too close. "Then stop acting like one!" she snapped. Mariemeia scowled at her, then turned and left as well, but not in the direction the Confessor had taken. Dorothy clenched her fists. She knew that Mariemeia would inform the Emperor that the blond Mord- Sith had disobeyed an order. It wouldn't matter that Dorothy had just saved Mariemeia's life. Dorothy knew she was in trouble. Quatre and Wufei headed back to their rooms after a long day of trade talks. They didn't say a word as they walked through the Palace, past guards and servants, magic-users and military personnel. Finally they got back to their quarters and shut the door. "So how many of those `merchants' were Odin's spies?" Wufei asked rhetorically as he stripped his top off, intending to take advantage of the small pool located in the next room. It was still very hot inside and he was soaked with sweat. "All of them, Wufei, all of them." Quatre was tired of it already and it was only the first day of meetings. He too, changed tops, putting on a light green shirt with short sleeves. By then, Wufei was submerged in the pool, with his head leaning back against the rim. Quatre came in with spell-cooled cups of fruit juice and sat down beside the pool. He handed one to Wufei. "I wonder if Heero found out anything," Quatre asked. Wufei closed his eyes and sipped the juice. "He was more quiet than usual when he came back last night, if that's even possible." Quatre nodded as he leaned back on some cushions and sighed. They sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, both of them nearly asleep; then a soft noise in the main room alerted them to another's presence. "Heero?" Quatre called out. "We are in the pool room." There was no answer to the blonde's hail. Frowning at each other, they got up, water running off of Wufei as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Making sure they were ready, the two Midlanders stepped out into the main room of their quarters and spotted the intruder. Duo was standing in the middle of the room, grinning cheerfully, yet with a hint of nervousness. The braided boy was unsure of what his reception would be. "Umm, hi!" the Confessor greeted them, with a slight wave `Heero! Trowa!' Quatre called on his telepathic link with a hint of panic even as he returned the Confessor's smile with one of his own. "Umm, hi!" Beside him, Wufei just dripped silently. Heero walked through the library, looking over the vast stacks of books, parchments, scrolls and other types of writings. Operating on the principle of `know your enemy', the dark-haired soldier was determined to learn all he could about Golgatha and her ruler. Cobalt eyes narrowed as he studied the people in the library. He identified magic-users and scholars, but there were surprising numbers of soldiers and merchants as well. The library patrons were reading, studying, and discussing every topic under the sun. The Golgathans were a very intellectual people. He walked down a tall row of bookshelves, studying the titles. "Here, try this one," a tall guard recommended as he handed Heero a large book. Startled, Heero looked up. It was Trowa. "Thanks," Heero said wryly. He was glad to see Trowa again. The scout's quiet presence was reassuring to the major. The major's lips twitched briefly at the guard in front of him, then he glanced down at the cover. It read "History of Golgatha Vol. CMXIV". Heero raised a brow at Trowa, who returned the look with one of his own. The dark-haired soldier shook his head; he didn't know how Trowa had developed that peculiar knack for finding books. "Unfortunately, it has been `edited,'" Trowa murmured as he stood at ease nearby, observing the other occupants of the library. Heero nodded, unsurprised. He flipped open the book and began turning pages. "I saw him last night," he mentioned casually as he skimmed the pages. Beside him, Trowa tensed. "He didn't recognize you." It was a statement rather than a question. "No, he didn't." Heero flipped the book shut. Even edited it would help him get a better idea of Odin Lowe. He was about to leave when he `heard' Quatre's urgent mental summons. From Trowa's reaction, the tall archer had heard it also. Knowing it would attract attention if they hurried, both strolled casually out of the library. Trying to hurry without looking like it, they both strode down the cavernous main hall of the Palace, hoping to get to the delegations quarters before disaster fell on them all. Dorothy stared into the sun-on-steel gaze and tried to control her shaking. But control was hard to contrive while one was standing naked in front of the Emperor. He was a master at creating vulnerability. Behind him, Une looked on, expressionless. "Now, Dorothy," he began. "Did I or did I not tell you to keep Maxwell away from the Midlanders?" He fingered a long strap of leather. Dorothy swallowed, then answered as best she could. There was no talking her way out of punishment, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. "Yes, muh-my Lord." Even her voice shook. She despised herself for the weakness. "So why were you and he on the balcony," he asked as he circled her, running the leather strap lightly over her smooth skin. "He wanted to see the Midlanders, so he would know whom to avoid." Now it sounded stupid even to her own ears; but at the time, it had seemed like a good reason. Crack She bit her lip as the leather bit deep into her flesh, sending searing fire across her back. "And you obey the Confessor now instead of me?" he asked; his voice was honey and steel. "No, my Lord," she answered, bracing herself. Crack Dorothy fought to keep her breathing even. She closed her eyes. Crack "Did I say you could close your eyes?" he asked pleasantly. "No, my Lord." She kept her winter eyes fixed on the far wall, not looking at the Emperor, or at Une. She didn't dare look at Une. She wished she could stop trembling. To help keep herself distracted, she visualized all the types of vengeance she could take on Mariemeia, each more painful than the last. "Now, tell me Dorothy. Why were you there?" The Emperor circled her again. "Maxwell wanted to see them! I didn't see why he shouldn't know who they were!" she burst out, close to tears now. The Emperor gripped her chin with crushing force, and as she looked into his cobalt eyes, the sun glimmered off steel. "Because I told you he was not to see them; that should have been enough! Now, Dorothy, you know that I have to do this, correct?" he punctuated the question with a sharp jerk on her chin. "Yes, my Lord," she whispered, trying to control her terror, and failing miserably. "Then let's begin," he smiled, and brought the strap down again. And again. And again. Duo was starting to think meeting the Sank Delegation wasn't such a hot idea. When he first came up the notion to approach the Midlanders, he had forged ahead without giving it any consideration. Now, though, he was at a loss. Both the blond mage and the black-haired soldier in a towel were staring at him with shock. Well, he didn't blame them. He had sneaked into their room, not giving them any warning about what he wanted from them; but he didn't have a choice in that. He had to be sure the Emperor didn't find out he was visiting them. "Umm, hi!" he waved feebly at the pair staring at him. To his relief, the blond returned his greeting with a slight wave of his own. "Umm, hi." "I'm sorry to just barge in like this, but I need to talk to you." Duo wasn't sure how he was going to bring up the subject. But he was determined to do this. As Quatre and Wufei stood standing in bemusement, Duo began to pace back and forth in agitation. "I'm not sure how to ask you, but I need to know something." While Quatre and Wufei watched Duo, they carried on a silent conversation of their own. `He doesn't know us,' Wufei commented, still dripping and clutching his towel. `No, he doesn't' Quatre returned, studying the slender Confessor with intensity. He saw some slight changes in Duo, but for the most part he was still the braided beauty they had captured three years ago. `Do you think we should do it?' Wufei asked. Quatre didn't answer for a few seconds. Then he mentally shrugged. `Let's see what he wants. But be ready, this may be our best chance.' Wufei nodded once, then their attention was drawn back to Duo, who suddenly stopped moving and fixed them with a violet stare. "What kind of man is Treize?" Quatre's heart sank; Duo was going to go after Treize. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wufei start to move to the mage's bedroom. "Where is he going?" Duo asked, a slight hint of anxiety in his voice. "He probably wants to put some clothes on, and if he were to be so kind, bring us some refreshments." Quatre raised his voice slightly at the last part and saw Wufei give him an answering nod. Wufei understood. The blademaster was going to get the Jatropha nuts. If the Confessor was going to try to eliminate the Oz overlord, they had no choice. Duo must die. Dorothy shut the door to her quarters and looked longingly at the bed, twenty steps away. "I can do this, it's only twenty steps." Slowly, she shuffled forward like an old woman, her neck bent and the long straw colored braid disheveled. She wiped the unaccustomed wetness away from her eyes, no longer winter but wounded. Ten steps, five, then she was there. Gingerly, she sat down, kicked off her boots and started to unfasten her leather top. "Here, let me help," an icy voice spoke from behind her. Dorothy was hurting too badly to turn around quickly, so she didn't bother. Gentle hands eased the blood-encrusted leather away from her torn back, taking some of her skin with it. She stifled a gasp, biting her lip hard. "You sure know how to get into trouble, don't you?" Une's icy voice held a hint of amusement. "It's not like I planned to get caught," Dorothy protested. Swaying to her feet, she unfastened the pants and whimpered as they slid down her welt-laced legs. Slowly, she crawled on the bed and lay on her stomach. Closing her eyes, she tried to divorce herself from the pain in her body. "You shouldn't be here, Une. If you get caught " she trailed off, not bothering to continue. Une's light touch across her back eased the stinging fire a little. Une possessed a little magic that she'd been born with, it was not like the power wielded by the Mord-Sith who derived it from the Emperor himself. That power was granted to them by the Throne and could only be used to defend the Emperor or themselves. "Thank you Une, but not too much. The Emperor will get suspicious if I'm walking around right as rain tomorrow," Dorothy said drowsily, her body relaxing under Une's ministrations, only to tense up again at Une's next words. "He's here." She didn't need to ask whom Une was referring to. This time, pain or no, Dorothy sat up and turned around. "What?" she gasped, staring hard into Une's ice eyes. "She told me." Dorothy closed her eyes again, this time to blink back tears of hope. "Is he ?" She couldn't bring herself to say the words Une nodded. "Yes, he is untainted." The blond Mord-Sith wrapped her shaking arms around Une. "I had given up hope." Then she leaned back. "Who is he?" Une shook her head. "It's better if you don't know. If the Emperor were to find out too soon, all would be lost." Dorothy was puzzled. "But can't the Emperor sense him?" "She shielded him and the others in time." Dorothy nodded in understanding. Then she hugged Une again, who returned her embrace, albeit very gently. The moments they could spend together were very few and very precious. "Oh, wouldn't it be nice if he accepted us for who we were?" she whispered, her voice laced with hope. "I am so tired of having to pretend." Une nodded, understanding the blond girl's feelings. The tall Mord-Sith and Dorothy loved each other. But Odin Lowe would only delight in tormenting them if he found out; the Emperor did not approve of such relationships. They disguised their true feelings in different ways: Une under layers of ice and Dorothy in men's beds. "At least Maxwell's presence has helped you." Une teased. Dorothy giggled, a sound that would have shocked anyone else who knew her. "It gives him something to do, he lives to rescue the poor guards from the evil Mord-Sith," she said with mock dramatic tones, then laughed; again the humor sounded alien sound coming from her. She raised her head as Une stroked the long blond hair back from her face. "Will Duo be alright?" Dorothy did like the Confessor, even though she hid it. "Not even She knows the answer to that," Une answered. With a soft kiss to the blonde's forehead, Une stood up. Dorothy lay back down on the bed. "I hope so," she whispered as sleep stole over her like a soft blanket. As the tall Mord-Sith exited the room, Une hoped so too.