Disclaimers:  I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

Notes:  Alternate Universe fic, Rasid is a Sultan who takes on a new group of concubines for his harem from various places.  
Quatre is a young lord who is under financial difficulties and has to pay what is owed in one way or another.

Warnings:  NC-17 fic.  Yaoi and het relationships, lots of lemons.  Rape, angst, abuse, bondage, torture, slavery, foul language,
kidnaping, poisonings, attempted murder . . . and other stuff that I’ll warn you about along the way.

Pairings:  Rasid x 1, Rasid x 2, Rasid x 4, 1+2+1/1x2x1, 3+4+3/3x4x3, Wufei x Une, 6x9, Treize x Meiran.  Umm . . . too many
implied pairings to list.  But the ones I already listed are the more important pairings of this fic.  Others, I’ll inform you of as I
go along.



Acquiescent Concubine



Prologue


The Sultan sighed as he watched the lands passing by his carriage, never having enjoyed the task of inspecting his kingdom.  It
was a long and tedious duty, one that sometimes took months to accomplish if he let himself dwell in the houses of his more
wealthy tenants.  Most of his people tended to insist that he stay for meals and even though he knew that it would only make his
journey last longer, he hated saying no to them.

“Your majesty, is everything well?”  Asked the concerned voice of the Sultan’s mage, Chang Wufei, a young man who up until
recently had been one of the Sultan’s concubines.  The Sultan preferred to let his concubines have their freedom just as soon as
they could learn a useful skill, and Wufei had become quite skilled in the art of magic.  This would be Wufei’s first trip away
from the palace since he had earned his freedom . . . as a concubine he had been forbidden to travel.

“I am fine.”  The Sultan replied, never taking his eyes from the passing scenery.  “Where are we now?”  

“We are in one of the border villages, near the edge of your territories, Rasid.”  Wufei replied.  “We will be stopping at the home
of a man that owes much in back taxes.  He does not seem to have paid in several months.”

“Does he have any children?”  Rasid asked.

“Yes, he does.  Twenty-nine daughters and one son, according to the records.”  Wufei said, flipping through a number of
parchments.

Rasid sighed.  “If he does not pay what he owes today, he will lose one or more of those children to slavery.”  He said sadly.  
“Do you know why he is not paying?”

Wufei shook his head.  “No, sire.  None of our messengers were able to get past the front door of the house.  They were not
allowed inside or to deliver the letters of inquiry.”

“Then perhaps this is all some misunderstanding.”  Rasid stated, something that he was hoping for.  He did not enjoy enslaving
his people or their children.

“I hope so, sir.”  Wufei sighed, turning his eyes back to the parchments that he held.

It was no more than an hour before they entered the village, several more minutes until they arrived at their destination.  The
Sultan stepped out of his carriage, looking up at the house before him.  It was a rather large home, foretelling of substantial
finances.  He truly did hope that the lack of taxes from the owner of the home was due to some error and that he would be able
to pay today.

Wufei emerged from the carriage shortly after Rasid.  The two of them approached the front door of the house, guards standing
all around Rasid to offer protection from assassins.  Wufei raised his hand, rapping loudly on the wooden door.  They didn’t
have long to wait for someone to answer.

Slowly, the door was pulled open, but only the barest amount, just enough for a shadowed figure inside to peer out at them.  
“Forgive my rudeness, but we are not receiving visitors today.”  A distinctly feminine voice said.  The woman’s voice was quiet
and sounded strained.  “Please, come back tomorrow, or another day.”

“I am afraid that we cannot come back, Miss.”  Wufei replied, pressing his palm against the thick wooden door, curling his
fingers around the edge to prevent the woman from closing it on him.  “The Sultan has traveled a good distance to see the head
of this household.”

The door opened a little wider and now Rasid could see the face of the young woman that was speaking.  She was quite
attractive, garbed in dark garments.  Rasid had a sinking feeling that there was something wrong here, but could not put his
finger on just what it was.

“The Sultan?  Oh my . . . I am so sorry.  I did not know.  Forgive my ignorance.”  The young woman said, stepping back and
opening the door, allowing Rasid and Wufei entrance into the home, as well as a few of Rasid’s many guards.  She bowed her
head, averting her eyes from Rasid as he strolled into the home.

Looking around, Rasid was quite concerned to see that there were a number of black cloths hanging from the walls and
covering a number of surfaces.  There was only one reason for such adornment . . . someone in this house had died.

“You are in mourning?”  Rasid asked.

“Yes, sire . . . my father.  We buried him just this morning.”  The woman answered, her gaze still lowered.  Suddenly she broke
into tears, raising her hands to her face.  “Please, excuse me.”  She said, just a moment before running away from them.

Rasid sighed.  “The lord of this house is dead.  It falls to his children to pay his debts.  I do not relish asking them this now, not
so soon after their father’s death.”

“Yes, it is a sad time, my lord.”  Wufei said.  “Still, we must find the reason for the lack of payment before this day.  Was he ill,
or had he gambled it away and lost his life due to a foolish bet?”

Rasid nodded.  “Let us see if we can find another member of this household, perhaps the son you mentioned earlier.”  Without
waiting for Wufei’s reply, Rasid walked further into the home.

He had just found a large staircase, when he was met by another young woman.  “My sister told us of your arrival, Lord
Rasid.”  The lady said, bowing her head respectfully.

“Your name, child . . . what is it?”  Rasid asked.

“I am Iria.”  The woman answered.  “I am certain that you would prefer to speak with the owner of this house.  It belongs to
my brother now.  I informed him of your arrival, but he is . . . quite saddened by the loss of our father.  He is upstairs, in his
bedchamber.”

“Where is his bedroom?”  Rasid asked, deciding to go up and meet this grieving youth.  He would not force the young man to
come down if he was not ready to do so, but there were matters that needed discussion.

“It is the last . . . at the end of the hall.”  Iria said, then stepped aside.  “If you will excuse me, I must tend to my sisters.  Father’
s death, although not sudden, has been difficult on all of us.”

Rasid waved his hand, dismissing the lady.  “Come, Wufei . . . the rest of you remain down here.”  He said, then walked up the
flight of stairs, Wufei following behind him, while the guards remained behind.

They arrived at the appropriate door and Rasid wasted no time.  He knocked, but awaited no answer from within.  Instead, he
opened the door, strolling inside and glancing around.  The room was beautifully decorated, expensive furniture and tapestries
adorning it.  It was clear that this young man had been loved by his father . . . to be given lovely gifts such as these.

Rasid found the young heir sitting in front of a set of glass doors which led out onto a rather large balcony.  The young man’s
back was turned to him.  Rasid cleared his throat, wanting to gain the attention of the youth.

When the young man turned, Rasid’s breath was stolen away.  He had not seen such beauty in quite a while.  The attractive
young man had uncommon hair, such a light shade, a halo of golden tresses.  His pale skin was contrasted by the dark clothes
that he wore, making him look even more striking if that was possible.  Glimmering tears trailed along his cheeks, which he
wiped away quickly with a slender hand.

“I am sorry that I did not greet you myself, your majesty.”  The youth said, rising from his seat, only to bow to Rasid.

“It is quite all right . . . I understand that you have suffered a great loss.”  Rasid replied, gesturing for the young man to sit.  
“What is your name?”

“I am Quatre, sire.”  He said, taking his seat once more.

“Forgive me for asking . . . what caused your father’s death?”  Wufei asked, standing beside Rasid.

Quatre’s aquamarine eyes filled with deep sadness, a few tears resuming their journeys down his pale cheeks.  “Father was ill
for quite some time.  His health was slowly sapped away from him, as was his life.”  Quatre looked up at Rasid, comprehension
crossing his features.  “You have come about the taxes, haven’t you?”

Rasid nodded.  “You have not paid in several months.”

Quatre sniffled sadly.  “We spent everything we had on medicine men and healers, trying to prolong Father’s life just a little
longer.  My sisters did not want to be without him.”  He sighed deeply.  “It was all a waste of time.  They did nothing but take
our money and give us false hope.”  He turned away, looking out of the window once more.

“Surely there is something here that you can sell to pay the taxes.”  Rasid said, gesturing around the room.

Quatre shook his head.  “No, there is nothing.  Everything here, anything of value . . . it is to be sold to pay for the funeral, for
the last of the healers that could not save my father’s life, and to feed my sisters.  The only thing we will have left is the shop in
the market . . . we must have food to eat until we are able to get it running again.”  He sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the
weight of the world was rested upon them.

Rasid closed his eyes.  “I am sorry, but law states . . .”

Quatre interrupted.  “Law states that the taxes must be paid one way or another.  If I do not have the money, then a member of
the family must be sold into slavery.”  He turned to face Rasid again.  “I know the law, I know what it requires.”  He took a
deep breath, then rose to his feet, standing before Rasid and Wufei, although his eyes were cast downward.  “And if I have to,
then I have no other choice . . . I will go.”

“I do not think you understand this.”  Rasid warned, not believing that this young man had just volunteered himself for slavery.  
“You will have no rights anymore, no property, no name if your master so chooses.  You will be nothing more than an object,
and made to work for your keep.”

Quatre raised his gaze.  “I understand perfectly well.”  He said, his voice firm.  “I will go in place of money, to be sold or used
in whatever way my . . . master sees fit.  I will go to any length to spare my sisters any suffering.”

Wufei stepped forward, reaching out and taking hold of Quatre’s hand.  He turned it over, looking thoughtfully at the young man’
s palm.  Tracing his fingers over the youth’s skin, Wufei smiled.  “Not a single mark.  You have never worked a day in your
life.”  He commented.  “You are not equipped for the hardships of a slave’s life.”

Quatre pulled his hand away angrily.  “I will do whatever it takes to keep my sisters safe.”  He replied, turning and stepping over
to the window, his movements clearly dictating his anger and fear.

Rasid knew that he had to dissuade the youth.  Only one thing came to him.  He looked to Wufei, nodding slightly.  “There is
one position that truly does not require much work.”

Wufei’s eyes lit up, a knowing smile crossing his face.  “Ah, yes.  There is a place in your harem available, is there not?”

Rasid nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye as a gasp left Quatre’s small frame, his body shuddering slightly.  “Yes.  
Actually, there is more than one place available.  One was freed, another died in an escape attempt . . . a shame about that boy,
falling to his death as he did.”

Quatre turned.  “You cannot make me change my mind.  If I must sell my body, then so be it.  At least I will know that none of
my sisters will be the one to do it.”

Rasid nodded.  “Very well.  I see that I cannot do anything to dissuade you.”  He said, knowing it to be true.  This young man
was quite stubborn, too stubborn for his own good.  Still, he was very beautiful, and Rasid would not mind too much having
him in his bed.  “You are now one of my harem.  You will be taken to the palace and kept with the others, to be used as I see
fit.”

Quatre bowed his head.  “I understand.”  He replied quietly.

The door behind them suddenly flung open.  “Quatre, no!”  Iria cried out.  “You cannot do this.”

“It’s too late, Iria . . . I’ve already made my decision.  You and the others will just have to get along without me.”  Quatre said,
not turning to face his sister.

Iria turned to Rasid.  “My lord . . . if you must take him . . . Please, give us some time to say goodbye to him.  We do not ask
for much, just a little.  Do not make us lose our brother the same day we buried our father.”

Rasid nodded.  “Fine.  You have one month to say your goodbyes to Quatre.  My mage, Wufei, will return in thirty days to bring
him to the palace.”  With that, he bowed and left, not having anything further to say on the matter.

Wufei trailed quickly behind him.  “Sire, are you sure that you want to do this?  Make this boy your concubine?”

Rasid allowed a small smile to cross his face, glancing at Wufei.  “Even you must admit that he is quite beautiful, Wufei.  He is
no older than you, I am sure that with proper care he will turn out to do well.  It is the only thing that I can do for him.  If I do
not take him as a concubine, then he will be sold at auction and the money will be used toward the taxes he owes.  Who knows
what type of a man or woman he would be owned by then.”

“I understand.”  Wufei sighed, bowing.  “You will be gentle with him, will you not?”

Rasid nodded.  “Have I ever been anything but gentle?”

A blush alighted on Wufei’s face.  It was enough of an answer for Rasid though and he continued on his way out of the house.  
He climbed into the carriage.  Looking out of the window of the carriage, he saw Quatre looking down on him from the
balcony.  The youth’s face was one of pure sadness, his gentle heart showing through clearly.  Rasid feared for the young man.  
He hoped that no harm would befall him, that he would be able to survive in the life he had volunteered himself for.



To Be Continued . . .