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

Notes:  Quatre and Heero get introduced.  Meiran and Treize take care of the new slave.

Servitude, Retribution, and Enchantment

Part Two

Prince Quatre bit into his bottom lip to keep back his fear-filled cries.  He was sitting in a corner of his spacious quarters, afraid
to leave and find out what was going on outside.  His home was under attack, the castle he lived in under siege.  He was
frightened, and didn’t know what to do.  In all his life all he had ever known was peace and love.  War was a foreign thought to
his mind, his kingdom believing in a peaceful existence with all around them.

However, today someone was attacking, someone was hurting and causing pain.  Quatre could hear the screams and he covered
his head, not wanting to listen anymore.  He just wanted to hide until it was all over, to find some deep dark hole to crawl into,
where he would be safe.  There was just too much pain out there.

Hands gripped his arms and he cried out in terror before he had managed to open his eyes.  One of his sisters stood before him,
her hands clasping his shoulders and bringing him to a standing position.  “Iria?  What’s going on?”  Quatre asked, hoping that
she would have an answer for him.  He just didn’t understand what was going on.

Iria smiled at him, brushing her hand through his golden hair.  “Don’t worry, little brother.  You’re going to be fine.  Let’s go . .
. I just want to get you somewhere safe.  Okay?”

Quatre nodded, not knowing what to say.  He followed her, letting her lead him through the corridors, running with all the others
that screamed and fled the castle.  It was frightening, all this confusion, all these people screaming and crying.  Quatre could feel
himself panicking and didn’t know how to stop it.

Eventually, Iria led them down a vacant hall, leading Quatre through unfamiliar parts of the castle.  He had never been down here
before, didn’t recognize where he was.  “W-where are we going?”  Quatre asked, keeping his voice at a low whisper.

“Don’t worry . . . It’ll be okay.”  Iria hushed, not really answering his question as she hustled him through the dark hallway.

“Halt!”  A loud voice demanded, someone coming out of the darkness ahead of them with a sword in hand.

Quatre gasped as he and Iria stopped, panting from lack of air.  “Let us go . . . please.”  Iria pleaded with the strange man, her
hands wrapping around Quatre protectively.

“My duty is to his Majesty, Lord Dekim Barton, not to you.”  The man seethed, roughly grabbing Iria’s arm and yanking her
away from Quatre.

Quatre reached out, staring ahead as that man roughly handed Iria, calling out in desperation to his sister.  A moment later he felt
a sharp pain to the back of his head before everything grew dark and he landed on a cold stone floor, Iria’s voice shouting out
his name before darkness descended on him.


King Odin glared ahead of him at the dignitaries that crowded his throne room.  “Our two kingdoms have been planning this
marriage since the Prince and Princess were infants.  I will not have you trying to back out of it now that they have come of
age!”  The King bellowed, rising from his seat.

“Your Majesty, we only meant to postpone for a month.  Princess Relena only wishes to delay it so that she can mourn the
anniversary of her brother’s disappearance.”  Lady Dorothy replied, giving a low curtsey.

The King nodded.  “Ah, yes . . . a terrible tragedy that Prince Milliardo disappeared.”  He sighed.  “Perhaps I can allow this
postponement, but only for one month, no longer.”

Standing beside his father’s throne, Prince Heero stared off into the distance, not really paying attention to what was going on in
the room.  His own wedding held no interest for him, considering the fact that he couldn’t even stand the Princess that he was
supposed to marry.  If only he could escape.  Maybe if he took off running, he could make it outside.  Outside . . . the mere
thought of it brought an intense longing into his heart.  He had never been permitted outside before, nor near any windows on
the off chance that an assassin was waiting for an opportunity to kill him.  Father was very protective of his only heir.

“Heero!”  The King yelled, gaining the young prince’s attention.

“Sorry, Father.”  Heero whispered, bowing his head.  

“The Princess was speaking to you.”  King Odin said, gesturing to the girl in question, Relena.

Relena smiled, something that made Heero’s stomach twist.  “Your Highness, I only asked if you would grant me the honor of
walking me to my quarters as your father and my companions discuss our upcoming marriage?”  She curtseyed.

“Yes, of course.”  Heero replied, stepping down from where his father’s throne stood and walking over to the Princess.  He
allowed her to hook her arm through his and sighed as he began walking, not really wanting to be this close to the girl.  But he
was a prince and he had to be polite to the young princess.

As soon as he reached the Princess’s door, he removed his arm from her and bowed, politely excusing himself from her
presence.  Then he rushed away, quickly going to his favorite place in this castle, the library.  Once inside the safety and quiet
solitude of the library, he sighed and walked over to the shelves of books, hefting a volume off one of the shelves and moving
over to a chair.  He sat, laying the large book over his legs and began reading, losing himself in the stories of faraway places.  He
sighed, knowing that it was probably the closest thing he would get to actual traveling before he became king.

Hours later, Heero was still immersed in reading, daydreaming of when he would be king and would be able to travel the world.  
Of course, most of his time would be occupied with meetings and his duties at home, but at least he would be allowed to
venture outside when he wished, not to be locked up inside the castle all of his life.  Of course with Odin so healthy, he might
not be king for a long while yet.

A sharp sting to his cheek made Heero hiss and jerk away.  He looked up, eyes widening as he saw Dorothy standing beside the
chair, pulling back her hand, one of her nails stained with blood . . . Heero’s blood.  Heero pressed his hand to his cheek, feeling
the blood dripping from the scratch that she had made.

“What have you done?”  Heero asked, eyes wide because he knew that Dorothy had the ability to use magic.

Dorothy smiled, a streak of cruelness in the expression.  “Oh . . . nothing.  Just a little curse on you, Milord.  You ever hear that
old saying . . . may you have children just like you?  Well . . . Milord . . . now you can CARRY those children yourself.”  She
laughed, stepping back.

Heero gasped, his mouth dropping open in sheer shock as an image of himself heavy with child passed through his mind.  He
shook off the unnerving thought, knowing that it would not be possible as he was going to marry Relena and not have such
relations with a man.  “You are insane.”  Heero stated, watching as Dorothy left the room her laughter ringing through his ears
until she was long gone.


Prince Heero lay in his bed that night, peacefully dreaming of exotic places, of traveling the world and seeing all the sights . . . of
seeing the sky for the first time.  His dreams were shattered however as he was suddenly ripped from sleep by the feel of hands
roughly grasping his wrists in strong, bruising grips.

He snapped his eyes open, panicking as he saw someone straddling his waist, tying his wrists together with a length of rope.  
Heero struggled but to no avail, as he could feel that his ankles had already been tied together sometime before he had
awakened.  With no other alternative, Heero decided to call for help.  As soon as he parted his lips, a rag was stuffed into his
mouth, a gag quickly tied around his head by whoever was helping this man on top of Heero.

“Oh, Heero.  Please calm yourself.”  A familiar voice spoke up.  Heero turned, bewildered when he saw Dorothy stepping out of
the shadows and toward his bed.  “We don’t want you to injure yourself.  Now do we boys?”

“No, my lady.”  Said the man that was straddling Heero’s body.  Another similar reply came from somewhere to the side, but
Heero couldn’t see the other intruder because of the darkness of the room and the fact that the stranger was clad in dark

The man that had been straddling Heero removed himself from off of Heero and the bed.  Heero once again began struggling,
trying to break free of the rope around his wrists, not caring if he chaffed the skin.  A hand gently stroked across his cheek and
Heero instinctively recoiled, sliding as far to the side and away from Dorothy’s hand as he could get.

Dorothy only smiled, pulling her hand back.  “You will make such a good slave I think.”  Dorothy said.  

Heero’s eyes widened, hearing that he was to be sold into slavery.  He didn’t want to believe that . . . no, he had never thought
Dorothy so cruel as to do that to a member of royalty.  To go from a pampered life to that of a slave, Heero would probably die
within a week.  Heero shook his head, denying it even as Dorothy continued to speak.

“Yes, a fine slave.  Someone as lovely as you . . . I bet you’ll be turned into a pleasure slave, warming his master’s bed as well
as entertaining him or her as well.”  Dorothy chuckled.  “Oh and if your master is a man, just think of the expression on his face
the day you bear him a child.”  With that she laughed out loud, covering her mouth with her hand to quiet herself.

Heero could only watch her in shock as he let the reality sink in.  He could have children and if he was a pleasure slave for a
man, he would probably become pregnant.  Dorothy had made sure of that with her little curse.  Heero closed his eyes, fighting
back his tears even as one drifted from his eye.  Maybe if he was lucky he would be killed somehow, that was the only
consolation that Heero could think of now.

Hands gripped his shoulders and legs and Heero felt himself being lifted.  He opened his eyes, struggling once again as he was
being transported.  He didn’t want to go . . . didn’t want to be some bastard’s pleasure slave.

“Alex . . . Mueller . . . Stop.”  Dorothy said, calling her assistants by name.

The two men stopped.  Dorothy stepped forward, resting her hand against Heero’s forehead.  Heero could see her lips moving,
but no sound seemed to be coming from her mouth.  Warmness seeped through every pore of Heero’s body and he felt
lightheaded, slowly drifting away into oblivion, as he was being filled with a deep feeling of calm.  Within moments he was
unconscious, unaware of anything as he was carried away from the only home he had ever known.


Meiran sighed as the carriage finally stopped inside the castle gates.  She did not enjoy taking trips that lasted days on end.  She
was exhausted now, not to mention sore.  However, just because the journey left her a little uncomfortable, she would not stop
taking those trips to Crossroads.  

The slave was once again in Treize’s arms, although both Duo and Meiran had taken a turn in holding him during the trip.  
Meiran reached out, brushing those ebony locks away from the slave’s veiled face before she looked up at Treize.  “Let us
hurry.  He is very ill.”  Meiran said.

Duo stepped out first, taking hold of Meiran’s hand as she stepped down.  Treize stepped down carefully, the slave curled
against his body.  “Where should I take him?”  Treize asked, adjusting the weight in his arms slightly.

Meiran thought for a moment.  “Take him to my bedchamber.”

Treize blinked as if surprised, but then he nodded.  “Yes, my Queen.”  He mumbled, slowly carrying the young slave away.

“Do you require my help, Meiran?”  Duo asked.

Meiran turned to him and smiled.  “No, Treize and I can handle this I think . . . why don’t you return home.  I’m sure your
servants are anxiously awaiting your return.”

Duo grinned.  He leaned over and pecked Meiran on the cheek before he quickly turned and ran off, his bells jingling with every
step he took.  Meiran only giggled as he departed, knowing that it had just been a friendly gesture on Duo’s part.  She turned and
walked into her home.  As she passed by one of her guards, she paused.  “Find Sally and have her sent up to my bedchamber.  I
may have a use for her.”

“Yes, my Queen.”  The guard said before turning and running in search of Sally.

A few minutes later, Meiran stood in her bedchamber, watching as Treize stood there holding the new slave in his arms.  “I
think a bath would be in order, don’t you my lady?”  Treize asked, gesturing with a nod of his head to the filthy slave that he

Meiran nodded and waved her arm, watching in satisfaction as a curtain across the room parted at her silent command.  Beyond
that curtain lay her private bathing chamber, which magic had helped to create.  The tiles were white, diamonds and onyxes
scattered here and there around the room, although everything remained smooth to the touch.  A pool lay in the center of the
room, the water always pure and clean, the entire room eternally immaculate.  Sometimes she did enjoy the benefits that magic
could provide.

Treize nodded to her, then walked into the room, carefully laying the slave down on the cool tiles.  Meiran followed him, waiting
as Treize straightened himself, running his hands along his clothes to get rid of a few wrinkles, before turning to face her.

Meiran smiled and leaned up, running her fingers through his short hair as she pulled him down to her.  “I’ve been waiting days
to do this.”  She murmured before capturing his mouth in a sweet kiss.  For a few years now they had been involved . . . more
than that . . . they were in love.  If she could, she would marry him now, but he refused, saying that she should find someone
more worthy of her than a simple soldier.  She wouldn’t give up though . . . she planned to wear him down, to show him that
she loved him and didn’t want some noble jerk that would do nothing to interest her.

After a moment, Treize pulled away from her, a smile gracing his handsome features.  “Let us tend to the slave . . . we can have
fun later.”  

Meiran smiled in return, nodding as she planned just what kind of fun they would be having once they were sure that the slave
would recover.  She stepped back and watched as Treize stripped himself of clothes, folding each garment and setting them
aside carefully.  Apparently, he didn’t want to get his uniform wet, although it was already filthy and stained with the slave’s
blood.  But of course Meiran didn’t mind, as it presented her with a wonderful view of her lover’s body.

Meiran turned her attention away from Treize when she heard a whimper from the floor.  She looked down, only to see that the
fearful gaze of her new slave was locked on Treize’s nude form.  Meiran knelt beside the slave and reached out a hand to stroke
across his cheek.  “There’s no need to be afraid . . . he only intends to wash you and nothing more.”  She hushed.

The slave nodded unsurely and struggled to push himself to a sitting position.  He failed and just fell back again, panting as sweat
beaded on his skin.

“Do not push yourself.”  Meiran said.  “You are ill.  Let us take care of you and just rest yourself.”

“Yes, Mistress.”  The slave whispered tiredly.

Treize knelt down and held his hand out to the slave.  “That trinket I returned to you.  Perhaps it would be best if you let me
have it for now so that it does not get lost in the bath.”  Treize said.

The slave clutched his hand to his chest, protecting whatever he had in that fist, as he shivered on the floor.  It must be
something he treasured to react like that.  However, after a moment, he did hand it over, allowing Treize to take it.

Treize placed it . . . whatever the object was . . . with his clothing.  Once again, Meiran didn’t see it, and again she had no
interest in seeing it, since it was not hers.  She instead turned her attention to the trembling slave.  She pulled the loincloth from
his body, noticing the way that he flinched.  However, he didn’t try to stop her from removing his only true garment besides that
veil.  He was well trained, she noted.  The she reached up and undid the knot behind his head, pulling the cord and veil away
from his face.  She smiled when she saw just how lovely he was.

She frowned though, feeling that there was something familiar about him.  However, she just couldn’t determine what it was
about him.  He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t place the face with a name.

Meiran pushed the errant thoughts aside.  She waved her hand over the shackles, unlocking them then grabbed them and tossed
them aside with the rest of the items he had taken off of him.  She heard him gasp and looked to him noticing that he wanted to
say something but was probably staying silent because it was not his place to speak.

“You may speak if you wish.”  Meiran said, unlocking and removing the shackles around his ankles just as easily as she had
done with the others.

“Y-you’re a witch?”  He asked, his eyes wide with terror.

Meiran smiled.  “Not a witch . . . a sorceress.  It sounds much better, don’t you think?”  She ran her fingers through his hair,
sighing at the fear she saw.  “You have nothing to fear from me.  As long as you are my slave you will never be mistreated
again.”  Without waiting for a reply or even an acknowledgment that he had understood her, Meiran gestured for Treize to step

Treize easily lifted the young man into his arms, carrying him down the few stairs and into the warm, waist deep water of the
pool.  If they went further in the water would only get deeper.  Treize set the slave down on one of the steps, letting him sit

Meiran smirked and raised a hand, bringing a bar of her own specially made soap from the rack where she kept it.  Treize
caught it as it floated over to him and slowly began to clean the sweat, blood, and dirt from the slave’s body.  The slave just sat
there obediently through it all, flinching every now and then and letting out a hiss as Treize touched one of the fresh wounds on
his body.  Otherwise, he was quiet and docile . . . a perfect slave.

When Meiran noticed that Treize was nearly done, she raised her hand again, this time bringing a few drying cloths to her
hands.  Treize dunked the slave beneath the water one last time, rinsing the remaining soap suds from his hair before picking up
the young man and carrying him out.  He set the slave down in front of Meiran and accepted a cloth from her, wrapping it
around his own waist before taking another and drying himself somewhat.  While Treize worked on his own body, Meiran ran
the soft cloth of the remaining drying cloth over the slave’s body, glad to see that he was able to stand on his own now,
although he was unsteady.

Treize, with a cloth still wrapped around his waist, swept the young slave into his arms again, carefully carrying him out of the
bathing room.  Meiran followed, waving her hand behind herself once she left, knowing that the curtain would close shut behind

As Treize set the slave down on the bed, Sally rushed into the room.  “You sent for me, my Queen?”  She said, out of breath.  
She was a servant, one of the slaves that Meiran had rescued from the slave markets.  Meiran had known when she had first
seen Sally that there had been some Asian quality in her, although it was not visible to the eye since Sally had blonde hair.  There
was just something about her that had led Meiran to that conclusion.  Now Sally worked as one of Meiran’s servants, having
been freed of slavery the day she had been bought.

“Yes . . . I have a new slave and I will need garments for him.  Take his measurements and have suitable garments made.”  She
saw the thinness of his body then added.  “You may have to make new clothes for him later when he puts on some weight.”

“Yes, my lady.”  Sally said, hurrying over to the bedside.  She quickly checked his measurements and scrawled the numbers
down on a piece of parchment using  the ink and quill that she always carried in a pocket of her skirt.  Being a seamstress, she
had made her own clothes and had made sure that she had pockets sewn in for just that reason.

As soon as she was done, Sally excused herself and left.  Treize by then had gotten himself into his dressing gown, apparently
ready for bed.  Meiran left her lover with the slave and went to change her own clothes, coming back a few minutes later in her
own sleeping garments.  A smile crossed her face as she saw Treize tending to the slave’s wounds, applying a salve to the
young man’s lash marks, letting him lie on his stomach which would probably be the most comfortable position for him in his
current state.  The slave was once again unconscious.

Meiran climbed into bed, Treize next to her, the slave on Treize’s other side.  She wrapped her arms around her tall lover, laying
her head against his back.  “Will he be okay?”  She asked, breathing in Treize’s scent.

“I’m not sure.  He seems to have been poorly taken care of.”  Treize sighed, reaching over and setting the jar of salve on the
bedside table.  He turned, allowing his arms to snake around Meiran’s body as she repositioned herself to lay her head against his
chest.  “We will just have to keep a careful watch on his condition.”

“I could always do a healing.”  Meiran suggested.

Treize pulled her away from him slightly.  “No.  You know that healing takes so much out of you.  I don’t want you putting
yourself in danger.”

“Treize, the last time I attempted a healing was three years ago . . . and it saved a life.  Duo would not be with us if I hadn’t
taken that chance.  Besides, I am much stronger than I was then, and it probably wouldn’t affect me so greatly this time.”  
Meiran replied, remembering that she had almost died to keep Duo alive while he was recovering.  He hadn’t been eating, his
fever had been raging . . . it was all she could do to keep him alive.  In the end she had almost died to save him.  But in her
mind, it was well worth it.  Duo was vibrant and well, a happy young man who was a great treasure to all who knew him.

“Fine.  But only as a last resort.”  Treize said, finally giving in.  “I still worry about you.”

“I know.  But I am not that frail thirteen-year-old girl anymore, Treize.  I am a Queen, a Sorceress.”  Meiran replied.

“But still just a mortal.  I don’t want to see you hurt.”  Treize smiled, tilting her face up so that his gaze met hers.

Meiran smiled.  “I love it when you act so gallant.”  She murmured, urging her lover to lie down as she curled up beside him,
just content to be in his arms.

“And I just love everything about you.”  He replied, brushing a hand through her hair before kissing her gently on the forehead.

Meiran smiled again, closing her eyes and letting herself relax in Treize’s embrace.  It was comforting and soothing . . . safe.  
And soon she drifted off to sleep, content in her lover’s warm embrace.

To Be Continued . . .