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. Many of the names of the monsters and locations are from the game of EverQuest. All of this is done without permission.

Warnings: AU, Fantasy, Angst, Shounen-ai, Dark, and Violence

Pairings: 1+2 3+4

Archive: Ask and you shall receive

If you like, send any feedback to me at Annabell@Frontiernet.net

Special thanks go out to Betty, my incredible beta reader. And to Maria, Kit and Andrea, whose feedback is always invaluable.



I am the son, and the heir

Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar

I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth

How can you say

I go about things the wrong way?

I am human and I need to be loved

Just like everybody else does

-How Soon Is Now by The Smiths

Mord-Sith! Part 11

Palace of Light, Erudin



Trowa opened the door to the dungeon at Duo's knock. Both Duo and Heero emerged, their expressions unreadable, but even in the dim corridor the tall archer thought he could see just the slightest flush on the Confessor's cheeks. It was so slight that anyone else might have thought it merely a reflection of the red leather Duo was wearing. But Trowa knew better.

`Way to go, Heero!' he silently cheered even as he kept his features neutral, glad of the fall of brown hair over his face.

The Captain of the Guard, who had not moved since Duo's especially malicious threat, anxiously looked at the Confessor and Heero as they exited the cell. To the Captain's surprise, it was the prisoner who spoke first.

"I am going to kill Odin Lowe. Stay out of my way because I will eliminate all obstacles." The cobalt-eyed young man spoke with quiet confidence. Duo stood right behind him, grinning over Heero's shoulder like he was in on the world's biggest joke.

The Captain was all too aware of the three sets of eyes on him. But he hadn't achieved his rank by being foolish or taking unnecessary risks. "Who are you?" he asked, careful to keep his hands away from his sword.

"He's Heero Yuy," Duo spoke up, still grinning evilly and standing with his hands on his hips.

Heero Yuy. The Captain immediately recognized that name. Every Golgathan was taught the legend of the archmage who had created the Throne and thus the Empire of Golgatha. "You are the son of Odin Lowe?" he asked. Only a direct descendant could bear that name.

Heero nodded, aware of Trowa's look of surprise. "Trowa," he greeted.

The tall archer nodded back, relieved that the situation between Duo and Heero seemed to have reached a resolution. That meant that he didn't have to act the part of Duo's slave anymore. The Confessor's last crack about allowing Trowa to pleasure him again had nearly been the undoing of the green-eyed archer. Only supreme self-control had kept the brown-haired guard from choking on his so-called very talented tongue.

The Captain stood straighter, understanding spreading across his face. "If you are the son, then I cannot interfere in a challenge for the Throne. I will escort you to the Emperor." He sketched a bow and turned and started walking.

"We should stop at the armory and get you a sword," Duo murmured to Heero, who nodded. Duo wanted to get another weapon as well. The Agiel was a great instrument for torture, but he felt more comfortable with a blade.

Trowa was looking at Heero in bemusement. Duo was still grinning. "Later," was all Heero said as they followed the Captain. Trowa blinked and decided just to go with it.



Pain. That was the first sensation that greeted Wufei upon the arrival of consciousness. At least he was fairly sure that he was conscious. After all, he didn't remember unconsciousness hurting quite so much. He focused and drew an experimental breath, wincing at the stabbing pain shooting through his chest. Oh yes, he was awake. And alive. Surprise, surprise. The last thing he remembered was falling to the floor after Odin's archers, including one Trowa Barton, had shot him.

The next thing he realized was that it was dark. He turned his head, but it remained dark. Then it sank in that his eyes were shut. Ok, that explained why it was so dark. He was just trying to persuade his eyes to open when an unfamiliar voice nearby caused them to open of their own accord.

"Don't try to move," a female voice advised.

It was still dark, but now he could make out variances in shades. Naturally, he attempted to move at the sound of her voice, but immediately regretted it; the razors slicing through his chest encouraged him to take her advice. With a gasp, he sank back down into the bed. At least, he assumed it was a bed. It was too soft to be the ground. The female spoke again, this time amusement colored her voice.

"I told you not to move."

`Typical woman,' he thought as he tried to locate the origin of the voice. It sounded like it had been getting closer and it stopped above him. He squinted as he attempted to make out the woman's features, but the room was too dark to get a good look at her. From the sound of the insects outside and the angle of the moonlight, he judged that it was sometime after midnight, before the dawn.

"How long?" he asked, disturbed at the weakness in his voice.

"It's been about five hours since your friend brought you here," she murmured, and he felt gentle hands touch his chest. Wufei immediately tried to push them away, but she was surprisingly strong.

"Stop that!" she scolded as she gripped his wrists and forced them back against the bed.

"Woman, what are you doing?" he snapped, or tried to, but he was too weak to get any force behind the words.

"I'm a Healer. Don't worry, you'll still be a virgin when I'm through with you," she reassured him.

"What!" Wufei yelped in alarm; mainly because he most assuredly wasn't a virgin in the first place.

"I was kidding! Settle down, you'll reopen your wounds if you keep jumping around like that," the woman said. Her teasing tone was gone now, replaced by concern.

Wufei drew a deep breath, and winced as each of the arrow wounds made their presence clearly felt. "Ouch," he exclaimed at the pain. Then, embarrassed that he had admitted to the discomfort, he grew irritated. "Can't you heal me any faster?" he demanded.

"Be happy I could heal you at all," the woman replied impatiently, getting irritated herself by his brusque manner. "Any later and you would have needed a Necromancer, not a Healer."

That got his attention and he stopped struggling. Now that his eyes were adjusting to the lack of light, he could see her dark silhouette. "Where are we?" he asked in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth of her fingertips gliding over his chest.

"Your friend Trowa brought us here to the Confessor's rooms," she replied, unable to hide the slight worry in her voice.

"Duo?" Wufei asked. "Where are they?"

"Trowa went with the Confessor to talk to someone named Heero, who is in the dungeons," she answered absently, focused on the restructuring of the tissues and muscles in the blademaster's chest.

"Heero is in the dungeon?" Wufei repeated in surprise.

"I believe I just said that, now hold still, this is going to hurt a little." That was all the warning she gave him.

He gasped and his black eyes flared wide as harsh, unrelenting power flooded through him. New blood, replacing the precious fluid he had lost, surged in his veins as his heart hammered painfully fast. The knitting tissues reformed, weaving themselves together without scars. Nerve endings, now whole, throbbed in synchrony with his heart. Wufei seriously considered passing out again when, just as suddenly as it began, the pain was over.

"What the hell did do you do to me?" he demanded when he finally caught his breath and was able to speak.

"I healed you, completely," she said, sounding breathless. "I know it hurt a lot." Wufei snorted at her understatement. "But I needed to get you whole again. I have a feeling that Odin isn't through with us yet." As she said this, the woman sank down until she was kneeling beside the bed. Wufei rolled over, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

"Are you ok?" he asked, realizing that he didn't even know her name. Carefully, he sat up, noting the twinges of pain, but not the thousand razor cuts as before. More like the nerves were remembering the pain. He slid off the bed and crouched down next to her.

"Yes," she replied, still panting. "I just used up a hell of a lot of energy on you, and it drained me. I need some time to recover." Wufei helped her sit on the bed.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?" he asked. `Preferably when I was still unconscious,' he added mentally.

"I had to build you up slowly. Healers aren't like sorcerers; we just assist a body in mending itself by speeding up the natural healing process. If I had attempted to do that earlier, it would have drained my life force to a dangerously low level and put you closer to death than your injuries already had you. It would have used up your energy as well." She stopped and took a deep breath.

Wufei considered what she had told him. He remembered how long it had taken the Sank kingdom healers to mend Heero after Bitterroot. "You must be a powerful Healer," he observed almost grudgingly.

"I am," she replied, very matter of fact, tiredly rubbing her forehead.

She wasn't bragging, Wufei decided. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Meiran," she answered. The Faydwer princess didn't include her rank. "I already know yours is Wufei."

The blademaster nodded and silence fell between them as they retreated into their thoughts. Wufei considered the situation. Heero was in a dungeon and presumably Trowa and Duo had gone to rescue him. The blademaster didn't know exactly how they were going to rescue Quatre, but he did know that if they were going to get it done, they would all have to work together. In the meantime, he would wait here with the Healer. That way, Trowa and Duo would know where he was if they needed help. And speaking of helping…

He was just opening his mouth to ask why Meiran was putting her life in danger by helping him, when the door abruptly opened and light flooded the room. Wufei squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination. Guards with swords drawn entered and the leader ordered the healer and the blademaster to stand up. Both were still weak, so it took some effort to do so. As they stood swaying, waiting for the guards to make up their minds as to what was going to be done with them, Wufei took advantage of the light and peered at his rescuer.

She was much younger than he had thought, about his own age. Small and slender, she had the largest black eyes he had ever seen, made larger by the fear she was trying to hide. Black hair pulled back into a single braid hung halfway down her back. She was dressed in trousers and a tunic. Strange attire for a Healer, Wufei thought.

Then the guard spoke. "Ah, there you are, princess," he said in honey and iron tones as he smiled in self-satisfaction.

Hearing that, Wufei's black eyes widened as he looked at her. This was a princess? She didn't look at him, though. She was staring at the head of the guards with an intent look on her face. Then she shook her head as if dismissing a troubling thought.

"What do you want?" she asked in icy tones. Now that he heard her speak like this, Wufei could imagine her as a princess.

"Why princess, I want you and your friend over there to come to the Throne room. I have a surprise planned; I want you both to share the enjoyment with me." Wufei felt a dagger of fear slide up his spine. He knew this was Odin Lowe speaking through the guard, having seen the Emperor do it before, at Bitterroot. He swallowed hard.

"Odin, leave her out of this," he warned, knowing it was a futile request but some part of him felt like he should protect her.

"Blademaster, you are lucky that you aren't dead right now. Don't push it." Odin's tone and face lost the smile as he signaled to the guards. "Bring them to me, and blademaster?" he said focusing on Wufei once more. "I have every foot of the Palace covered by archers. Don't try anything stupid." Then the guard shuddered and looked confused for an instant before resuming command. Odin was gone.

"Get going." Wufei and Meiran had no choice but to obey.



"How could you be so stupid?" Dorothy ranted at Quatre after they returned to her quarters. The blond mage, who was still reeling from the interrogation by Odin Lowe, could only stare at her in confusion. Luckily, she didn't seem to be expecting an answer. He stood in a corner and watched as she paced up and down, clenching and unclenching her fists in agitation. Sometimes she gripped her Agiel and other times just let it hang from its chain. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what she was talking about.

The blond Mord-Sith swore a vicious oath and stopped pacing. She spun around, sending her long braid flying and fixed her winter eyes on he unfortunate mage. "It's your fault. Now because of you, the Emperor has the Heir and all our plans are ruined. What were you thinking?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" he rasped in confusion, his voice still hoarse from screaming. Dark circles under his eyes contrasted sharply with the paleness of his features. All he wanted was to sit down, but he didn't dare. The blond mage concentrated on the beauty of her braid, trying to keep the pain of her Mord-Sith magic at bay.

"Your being here with the Heir, you idiot! Why did General Trieze send such an incompetent mage? I thought he was smarter than that," she railed as she whirled around again and stalked away. Quatre's mind tried in vain to process Dorothy's tirade, but his body ached so much that it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

"I don't think he understands the situation, Dorothy," a quiet voice interrupted.

Both Quatre and Dorothy looked up in surprise. Quatre recognized the brown haired Mord-Sith named Une as she stepped away from the wall.

"Une!" Dorothy cried as she threw herself into the other woman's arms. The tall Mord-Sith hugged her gently, and then pushed her back so she could look into Dorothy's eyes.

"Tell me what happened," she ordered and Dorothy quickly recovered her composure. In a few minutes, Une was told an abbreviated version of Quatre's capture and Odin's subsequent actions. Quatre stood quietly the whole time, just grateful that Dorothy's attention was directed elsewhere.

When she finished, Une looked thoughtful. The brown-haired Mord-Sith turned to Quatre with a neutral look. "You didn't know about Heero Yuy, did you?" she asked. Quatre shook his head no. He had no idea what they were talking about. Une sighed. " It wasn't his fault, Dorothy."

Quatre gulped as Une walked over to him and touched his cheek. His eyes widened as he felt the soft warmth of a healing spell start to flood through his body. The young mage felt the ache of his broken rib ease a little and took a deeper breath. He felt much better when she stepped away, but the constant pain of his captive magic still vibrated along his nerves.

"What are we going to do?" Dorothy asked in a subdued manner. She had been quiet while Une had been occupied with Quatre. Now for the first time, Quatre could see that she was frightened. "When Odin finds out the Mord-Sith's involvement, we are going to pay for what our predecessors did." She thought about it and asked, "Can Middie help?"

"No, she can't interfere, but there is someone else who might be an even better help than Middie," Une added mysteriously.

Now wasn't the time for mystery as far as Dorothy was concerned. "Who is it?" she asked bluntly.

"The Confessor," Une answered calmly. Both Quatre's and Dorothy's blue eyes widened in surprise. "But what about what happened in the Throne room?" Dorothy demanded. Quatre wanted to know the answer to that as well.

"That young Confessor knows better than to believe the Emperor, as you well know Dorothy," Une admonished. Dorothy thought about it and nodded slowly, remembering how he had interrupted her fun with the guard when he wanted to know about his broken wrist.

"Will Duo help Heero?" Quatre asked daringly. Dorothy glared at him for speaking without permission, but before she could shut him up, Une glanced at her warningly and she backed down.

Une shrugged as she turned to Quatre. "We'll see," she said. Then both Une and Dorothy stiffened as they received a mental summons.

"Looks like we'll soon have our answer," Dorothy commented as she motioned for Quatre to follow them to the Throne room.



Odin Lowe, Emperor of Golgatha, sat on the Throne and knew it was time. The dark sky outside muted the glow of the stained glass windows of the Throne room, making the cavernous hall seem ominous. Normally, the light cast by the twin moons would illuminate the room, making it ethereal. But the moons were setting now, and the shadows were running long.

He had been tracking the movements of the Midlanders through the minds of the guards. The presence of the Confessor was an unexpected hitch in his plans. Odin had thought that the scene in the Throne room would have destroyed any trust Duo would have for them, but it seemed that he had miscalculated on that point.

No matter. He knew how to deal with Duo, and if he played this right, this would work in his favor. He couldn't stop a slight smile of anticipation. The guards accompanying the Faydwer princess and the blademaster entered the Throne room. Odin favored them with a nod but remained silent. He was too caught up in his plans. Then Une, Dorothy and the Midland mage entered, bowing then straightening, and waited to be acknowledged.

The Emperor just ignored them as he mentally directed the guards and archers. According to the ancient laws, no one could interfere with a challenge, but Odin was going to make sure it didn't come down to that. Archers lined the balconies, guards were placed in various strategic positions, and a group of very special individuals remained in the back, under guard, until they were needed. All stood quietly and waited.

Then a trio of young men appeared at the open doors at the far end of the Throne room and Odin sat back, studying them. He knew the Confessor, and the one dressed as a guard looked vaguely familiar. Then the sun on steel gaze rested on the person whose name was Heero Yuy. For the first time, he looked knowingly upon the young man who was his offspring.

In the pre-dawn hour, Heero, Duo and Trowa entered the Throne room three abreast with Heero in the center. The Captain had remained at the main doors, with the other guards. Heero noted the guards and the archers, but he trusted Middie's assurance that no one could hurt him. An unnatural silence filled the vast room, broken only by their footsteps as they made their way to the Throne.

As the trio approached the Throne, Trowa first noticed that not only was Odin there, apparently waiting for them, but that Wufei and Meiran were there as well, standing at the foot of the Throne with several guards surrounding them. Both of them were pale but appeared to be unharmed. Wufei nodded to them, and Trowa felt a wave of relief to see the blademaster standing unaided and not looking too upset with him.

Standing off to one side of the Throne's platform was Une, Dorothy and Quatre. Une and Dorothy were dressed in red, and Quatre appeared to be unharmed as well, to Trowa's great relief. The blond mage smiled at him in an attempt to reassure the archer. And Trowa nearly sank to his knees at that smile.

At some unspoken signal, all three stopped, their gazes fixed on the person sitting on the Throne. The Emperor smiled down at them, sun glinting off steel in his eyes as he returned their look.

Then Une stepped forward, only it wasn't Une anymore. Her hair fell unfettered to her waist and her eyes were clear. Middie had arrived. She moved until she stood directly between the Throne and Heero. With utter seriousness in her eyes, she looked at Odin Lowe and then turned to Heero.

"Heero Yuy, what is your purpose here?" she asked in a formal voice that carried throughout the cavernous Throne room.

Odin raised an eyebrow at her words. He knew that if this situation ever arose, some representative of the Throne would be appointed as judge, but he not expected that it would be Une.

"I will eliminate Odin Lowe." Heero was never extravagant with words and didn't waste his breath on threats.

"You are very confident, boy," Odin answered, with a mocking smile, but was interrupted by the Voice of the Throne before he could say anything more.

"Odin Lowe, the Throne has acknowledged Heero Yuy as your legitimate offspring and he has been judged worthy to challenge for the control of the Throne. Do you accept the challenge or will you forfeit your rule of Golgatha?" she asked.

Golgatha's Emperor pressed his fingertips together as the mocking smile continued to play about his thin lips. He looked at Heero with narrowed eyes. Heero felt the first thread of unease worm its way up his spine. There was something wrong with this scenario, but he couldn't fathom what it was. Resolutely he pushed his doubts away.

Then Odin tilted his head back and spoke, the confident tones rang throughout the Throne room. "I will accept the challenge," he said, his eyes never leaving Heero's.

Middie nodded. "Let it be known that if anyone tries to interfere with the challenge, they will be struck dead instantly. The Mord- Sith are neutral in this and until the challenge is settled, they will not be able to wield the Throne's power. Odin, you cannot wield the Throne's power from this moment on, unless you are victorious. Are there any questions?" she asked.

Heero and Odin looked at each other, both unwilling to break the stare-down. Trowa and Duo stepped back a few paces to give Heero room. Quatre's blue eyes lit up with relief. At that announcement, he felt Dorothy's hold on his magic fade and disappear. Her ability to control his magic was gone with her loss of access to the power of the Throne. Without even glancing in her direction, he walked to stand beside Trowa and back Heero. Everyone else stood absolutely still, almost like they were living statues surrounding the participants.

Middie looked back and forth from sire to offspring. Taking their silence as a no, she went on. "As the challenged, Odin Lowe has the right to choose his weapon first."

"Any weapon?" Odin asked, not removing his gaze from Heero's.

Middie nodded. "Yes, choose your weapon, Odin Lowe."

Odin smiled, sunlight gleaming on steel in his eyes. "Very well. I choose the Confessor as my weapon."

Silence fell over the stunned onlookers, only to be broken as Duo laughed. "Sorry Odin, like the Mord-Sith I'm sitting this one out. You'll just have to face Heero by yourself. " His leather outfit creaked as he crossed his arms and smirked.

Odin just smiled and nodded as if he were expecting this. It reminded Heero of a cat toying with a helpless bird. The young soldier stiffened suspiciously and looked around the Throne room. Something was not right, Odin was too confident.

Then the Emperor signaled to the group of guards that had been in the back of the Throne room to step forward. With them were some children, seven in all, all girls. Beside him, Heero heard Duo's quiet intake of breath. At the end of the line, he recognized Sansa.

"I see you recognize these children," Odin smiled at the Confessor, who quickly schooled his features into neutrality.

"Yeah, I've seen them. So what?" Duo asked, feigning indifference. But dread coiled uneasily in his stomach.

"They don't mean anything to you?" Odin asked, amusement thinly veiled behind the honey and iron.

Duo shrugged. "They're just a bunch of kids," he said, all the time praying he was wrong, and that the situation wasn't going where he thought it was headed.

Odin's smiled widened as he leaned forward. "Just a bunch of kids? Tell me, why have you been sneaking into the North wing on a regular basis for the past couple of months? Why did you arrange to have the Midlanders take them to Treize if they mean nothing to you?" Odin never took his eyes away from Duo as he spoke. The sneer in his voice made Duo want to kick him, but the braided boy kept his rage under firm control.

"So what? What do they have to do with this?" he demanded even as his dread continued to grow.

"Just this. If you don't use your power on him, one by one, each of them will be butchered alive. Right here." At the Emperor's words, Duo felt the floor drop from underneath him. He stared at the man called Odin Lowe with undisguised hatred. Odin merely smirked and went on. "Can you just stand by and watch, Duo? Are you that inhuman?" The Emperor leaned back on the Throne.

Duo flinched at that last term. But it was Quatre who answered. "You sit there and threaten to kill children, and you dare call him inhuman? You're the monster," he snarled, his voice rough with rage and horror as he clenched his fists. "Can he do this?" he demanded as he turned to Middie.

Middie nodded, though she was frowning. "Yes, he can choose any weapon he feels necessary." It was clear she also wasn't happy about it.

Heero looked over at the blond mage, and then looked back at Duo. Quatre and Duo. Something stirred in his mind. Something important that demanded his attention. But events continued to unfold and dark- haired soldier knew he had to keep his focus on them.

"That does it, you're dead." Duo started to walk to the Throne, his violet eyes black with killing rage.

As one, two squads of archers raised their bows, arrows nocked, aimed directly at the Confessor's heart. Duo was not the Heir; he was a threat that they could deal with. Heero, sensing this, reached out and grabbed Duo.

"Don't do it. You can't win against him," Heero said in a low voice, never taking his eyes off the smiling Emperor.

Duo looked helplessly at Heero and spoke softly. "What am I supposed to do Heero? Stand by and watch as those girls over there get butchered? I won't use my power against you, but if I don't, they die. I can't save them." Duo gritted his teeth, his mind frantically searching for an alternative and ultimately finding one. "But I do have another choice." Saying this, Duo took a step forward and said in a loud, carrying voice. "I won't use my power against him. But I won't let you kill them because of me either. "

Heero sensed, rather than saw the Duo draw the knife. As if in slow motion, he turned and watched Duo grasp the knife in both hands and knew instantly what the braided boy was planning to do.

Time ground to a halt. It seemed that Heero had all the time in the world to think. Random memories surfaced leisurely, one after another like waves of the Timorous Deep, long enough to caress before drifting away. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on Duo, lying unconscious after the braided boy had been pitched off of Shinigami by Wufei's trip rope. He remembered how soft the chestnut braid felt in his hands when he grabbed it, and Duo looking up at him from where he had landed on his butt when Heero had pulled it. Those wide violet eyes sparkling playfully through the long bangs.

Heero's breath sounded unnaturally loud in his ears as he remembered the avenging angel setting fire to the child molester after making the bandit cut off and eat his own testicles. He remembered holding Duo in his arms afterwards as the Confessor cried, the setting sun casting its last light into the darkening sky. He saw in his mind Duo and Treize shaking hands and Duo agreeing to help Oz fight Odin Lowe.

He remembered how soft Duo's unbound chestnut mane had felt in his hands, like cool silk as he brushed it when Duo's broken wrist had hampered the braided boy's attempts to do it himself. He saw Duo and Shinigami racing through the storm toward him, hand reaching out to him. He remembered their kiss, and the taste of blood when Duo had bit his own tongue when Heero had shaken him. He remembered that he had promised to be there for Duo, always. Then Bitterroot.

Bitterroot.

All the hints, the clues that were there suddenly came together and clicked. He knew. He knew what was happening with Duo, and he knew why the Throne wasn't awake to fight back the monsters. But time, which could never truly stop, not for grief nor for hate nor for love itself, continued to carry them forward to the moment that, as inexorable as time itself, was destined the instant Heero and Duo looked into each other's eyes for the first time.

It wasn't a decision made by the head, determined by logic and reason. It didn't take into consideration the fate of the world, or the mission. It was a decision made by the heart, determined by an emotion that was far stronger than any magic. It was the right decision.

Heero blinked and time returned to its rightful speed.

"Sorry, Odin. But you will have to find yourself another pawn," Duo sneered as he raised the knife in both hands and started to plunge it into his chest.

Heero grabbed the Confessor's hands from behind, halting the weapon's deadly descent scant inches from Duo's heart. The braided young man spun around, determined to deal with whoever had stopped him. When he saw it was Heero, the violet eyes widened even as he tried to free himself from Heero's iron grip.

"Let me go, Heero. It's my choice. I won't let Odin use me to get to you." Duo tried futilely to pull the knife away from Heero, but the young soldier refused to let go. Cobalt held violet in a grip tighter than his hands.

"No, Duo. I will not let you sacrifice yourself, not again. This time, it's my choice and I want you to do as he says." Heero felt Duo's grip on the knife loosen as the Confessor mentally reeled in surprise at what Heero wanted. There was a collective intake of breath from the onlookers. "If he does, will you promise to let the others go?" Heero raised his voice to ask Odin, who sat on the Throne looking smug. "That includes the girls and my men."

"Very well, they mean nothing to me," Odin shrugged, eminently satisfied with the turn of events.

"Heard and witnessed," Middie declared, stepping forward.

"Heard and witnessed," Dorothy echoed, glaring at Odin Lowe for all she was worth. Hearing her, Odin's smile slipped a little in anger. He never expected one of his Mord-Sith to side against him.

"NO!" Duo shouted, his voice echoing in the huge hall, oblivious to the others in the Throne room who were watching in fascination as the drama unfolded. He didn't care about them. The only one that mattered was the young man right in front of him.

"Yes," Heero countered calmly, returning his focus to the Confessor still fighting for control of the knife. "Duo, I want you to do it," he repeated. His grip on Duo's hand never faltered, his confidence in his decision never wavered.

Duo was shaking his head vehemently at Heero's request. "Listen to me, Heero. For god's sakes, please listen." The violet eyes pleaded with Heero to understand. "Once I touch you, there is no going back. It's all over! Don't you understand? Don't you understand that it's forever?"

"It always has," Heero answered as he took advantage of Duo's distraction and twisted the knife out of the braided boy's hand. It landed on the marble floor of the Throne room with a ringing clatter, but none of the spectators paid any attention to it. They were all too caught up in the clash of wills taking place between the Confessor and the Heir.

"I won't do it!" Duo nearly screamed, but for all his power he could not win against the granite that was Heero's resolve. In any other situation, he could have used his power, but not for this. Never this. But could he just stand and watch as the young girls, who did not deserve their fate, die, knowing that he could have prevented it? All he had to do was sacrifice one willing person. He looked over at the children, standing in a row, eyes wide.

He looked back at Heero, into those cobalt eyes. He had never seen hate, loathing or disgust in them when Heero looked at him. He didn't see it now even though the gods knew he deserved it. Instead, the braided boy saw acceptance, compassion and something he had never seen in the eyes of anybody who had ever looked upon him. Love.

He could feel his will begin to weaken under the steady cobalt gaze even as he fought. Like the mountain that is crushed by the patience of time, he could withstand the steady determination for only so long, and then must bow to the inevitable. He started shaking.

Heero reached out with a free hand and gently touched the trembling boy's cheek and smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "Duo, it's ok."

Tears pooled in the depths of the violet eyes but did not fall as Duo shook his head. Whether they were tears of rage, frustration or hurt, Heero couldn't tell. But he held the Confessor's gaze, silently willing Duo to comply with his wish. Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, Duo whispered hoarsely, "No, I won't," but Heero could hear the defeat behind the denial as Duo dropped his hands to his sides. And time continued to rush forward.

The dark-haired soldier withdrew his hand from Duo's face and reached down to the Confessor's bare hand and grasped it, pulling it toward his own chest. Where his heart beat steady and strong.

"Do it," he repeated once more, his voice soft.

Lacing his fingers through Duo's, Heero held the Confessor's violet gaze with the sheer force of his willpower. The braided boy, trapped in this battle between father and son, finally surrendered to the wishes of the one person who did truly love him.

"I'm so sorry Heero," he whispered, even as he reached inward.

Heero squeezed Duo's hand for a second, and then, relaxing his grip, simply responded. "I love you." Then Duo relaxed the hold on his power, his curse, and released it into Heero.

Thunder without sound split the air, radiating outward from its source. The concussion sent jolts of pain through the joints of the onlookers. For a second that lasted an eternity, no one moved, no one spoke, no one even breathed.

Then Heero blinked his eyes, the hard cobalt now soft with love and worship as he looked at Duo.

"Master, how can I please you?" he pleaded.

TBC