Quatre Day!
Apr. 4th, 2007 03:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misanagiAs I was trying to make myself open my eyes this morning I looked at my watch and noticed the date, it's Quatre Day! *bouces* I started to think of things to post to celebrate and cma up empty so I`m going to cheat a little.
Remember that teaser I posted for Anne's B/Day? Well, this is what happens next...
---
Heero ducked his head, making sure the hood hid his face as he made his way through the crowds. His stomach grumbled. There was one biscuit left on his pack and he began eating it slowly as he walked.
The people gathered in front of the court house were talking calmly, waiting. Heero had witnessed many trials before but that had always been from the officers' box. Things were different when he was in the middle of a curious crowd waiting to see the prisoner, especially when the prisoner was a known nobleman.
Lord Winner would be standing on trial, charged with high treason and the murder of Trowa Barton, rightful heir to the land and the Duchess' title. Sentencing would be a more accurate word. The Duke had already spread the rumors and all that was left was an official order for Quatre's execution. It was a cunning plan. Trowa would be declared dead, Quatre wouldn't be a threat to Dermail anymore and there would be no one to challenge the Duke's claim over the land.
However, there was a serious problem with the Duke's plan: Trowa wasn't dead.
When Quatre had approached Heero with his plan to sneak Trowa out of the city before the Duke's intended assassination, Heero had known Quatre was placing himself in a lot of danger. He had tried to talk Quatre out of it, to find another way, but it was useless. Quatre would do anything to keep Trowa out of harms way and they all knew this was the only way.
Trowa hadn't been as gullible as he let Quatre believe; he had pulled Heero aside and asked him to protect Quatre. Heero had failed him.
He shouldn't have believed Quatre when he explained that it was safer if they left the city separately, or at least he should have insisted on Quatre leaving first. But Heero had already been branded a traitor while Quatre hadn't and as a former captain in the Duchess guard, Heero was a very recognizable fugitive.
It wasn't until Heero was way out of town that traveler merchants brought with them the news of Quatre's capture. He had spent two days on the saddle getting back to the city, trying to reach it before the trial.
Time was working against them. If rumors of Quatre's situation reached the southern lands, the Maguanacs would make war to the Duke, in hopes of saving Quatre. The Duke would have to execute Quatre quickly and he would try to make Quatre reveal Trowa's whereabouts by any means before time ran out.
It was impossible to rescue Quatre during trial, but if Heero could only make eye contact then he would let his friend know help was on the way.
It wasn't long before a door on the side opened and Quatre walked in, escorted by two guards. Both his hands and feet were shacked. Heero suspected it was more in hopes of humiliating him that preventing him from running or attacking anyone. His fine clothes were dirty and torn and his hair was disheveled. Beneath the shackles, his wrists were raw and his lip was split. Still, Quatre kept his head high and his back straight, walking with the poise of a judge, not an accused.
Heero kept his eyes fixed on Quatre and sure enough, Quatre glanced his way. His eyes widened slightly and the corners of his lips curved a little before he moved his gaze away.
As soon as Quatre was standing in the middle of the room another door opened and the Duke walked in and quickly took his place on the high chair. "Lord Winner," he began. "I would have never thought you would betray my dear nephew Trowa, taking his life in a greedy search of power." He shook his head in a mock act of disappointment. "Your father was a loyal man, and in honor of his memory, I'm willing to offer you some leniency if you admit your crimes in front of this court." He paused and glared at Quatre. "A full confession, boy. This is your last chance."
Quatre's voice was raspy but steady as he said, "I have nothing to confess."
The anger could be seen on the Duke's eyes. He slammed his hands on the arms of his chair and stood up. "Fine, boy. You have sealed your fate. The sentence is death by fire, to be carried out tomorrow at dawn."
The court was silent as the Duke made his exit. There were no cheers or hushed voices. The crowd remained silent until Quatre was escorted out of the room, and even after, the silence was heavy.
"If he killed him," Heero finally heard someone say in a hushed tone, "where is the body?"
"I thought they were friends," a confused female voice added.
"Lord Quatre has always been good to us."
"The Duke won't give us money for the orphanage like Lord Quatre did."
As he made his way out of the courtroom, the word Heero heard whispered more was innocent.
* * *
They didn't make him wait long but the minutes he spent tied to the wiping post were enough to make Quatre feel more frightened than he had ever felt before. It would hurt, he knew that, had tried to come to terms with that the previous night. The pain wasn't what scared him, what did was the possibility that he wouldn't be strong enough. He had Trowa's life in his hands and he hoped with all his might that he would have the courage needed to protect it.
It was the complete silence what alerted him of the Duke's presence. Quatre raised his head, holding it as high as he could. There weren't many people here, just a few of the Duke's trusted guards, but Quatre was determined to keep his dignity for as long as he could.
The Duke sat on the chair the guards had placed a few feet away from Quatre, facing him. It allowed the Duke to see Quatre's face all the time, ever grimace of pain. Quatre hardened his eyes and glared. He would be strong.
There was no need for words. The Duke merely sneered at Quatre and made a gesture with his hand.
And the world exploded in pain.
The taste of blood was heavy in his mouth but Quatre kept biting his lip, certain that if he stopped he wouldn't be able to hold back his screams. He took fast hurried breaths through his nose, trying to breathe through the pain.
He opened his eyes, realizing only then that he had closed them. Blinking back the tears, he focused his hardest stare on the Duke. He hadn't given up yet.
Another gesture from the Duke and again Quatre was immersed in pain. There was no time to recover and the whip fell again and again.
Quatre's fingers curled around the rope holding his hands over his head, his eyes shut, his breathing rapid and his teeth clenched.
"Feel like talking now, Lord Winner?"
The words sounded far away, as if they were brought by a distant echo. The whip had stopped for the moment but Quatre's back was on fire. Trough the pain, he opened his eyes and forced them to focus on the Duke. He didn't quite manage a glare, so he settled for spitting blood at the Duke's direction, even if he was to far to reach the man's feet.
Quatre had a single moment of satisfaction at seeing the ire in the Duke's face before the whip fell again.
At the end he couldn't hold back his screams. All sense of time vanished and all there was was the constant unbearable pain. He screamed until his voice started to give out and then some more.
He was dying… but Trowa was safe.
* * *
Yep, I celebrate the guy's day by whumping him... Is the way I show I care. ..
Remember that teaser I posted for Anne's B/Day? Well, this is what happens next...
---
Heero ducked his head, making sure the hood hid his face as he made his way through the crowds. His stomach grumbled. There was one biscuit left on his pack and he began eating it slowly as he walked.
The people gathered in front of the court house were talking calmly, waiting. Heero had witnessed many trials before but that had always been from the officers' box. Things were different when he was in the middle of a curious crowd waiting to see the prisoner, especially when the prisoner was a known nobleman.
Lord Winner would be standing on trial, charged with high treason and the murder of Trowa Barton, rightful heir to the land and the Duchess' title. Sentencing would be a more accurate word. The Duke had already spread the rumors and all that was left was an official order for Quatre's execution. It was a cunning plan. Trowa would be declared dead, Quatre wouldn't be a threat to Dermail anymore and there would be no one to challenge the Duke's claim over the land.
However, there was a serious problem with the Duke's plan: Trowa wasn't dead.
When Quatre had approached Heero with his plan to sneak Trowa out of the city before the Duke's intended assassination, Heero had known Quatre was placing himself in a lot of danger. He had tried to talk Quatre out of it, to find another way, but it was useless. Quatre would do anything to keep Trowa out of harms way and they all knew this was the only way.
Trowa hadn't been as gullible as he let Quatre believe; he had pulled Heero aside and asked him to protect Quatre. Heero had failed him.
He shouldn't have believed Quatre when he explained that it was safer if they left the city separately, or at least he should have insisted on Quatre leaving first. But Heero had already been branded a traitor while Quatre hadn't and as a former captain in the Duchess guard, Heero was a very recognizable fugitive.
It wasn't until Heero was way out of town that traveler merchants brought with them the news of Quatre's capture. He had spent two days on the saddle getting back to the city, trying to reach it before the trial.
Time was working against them. If rumors of Quatre's situation reached the southern lands, the Maguanacs would make war to the Duke, in hopes of saving Quatre. The Duke would have to execute Quatre quickly and he would try to make Quatre reveal Trowa's whereabouts by any means before time ran out.
It was impossible to rescue Quatre during trial, but if Heero could only make eye contact then he would let his friend know help was on the way.
It wasn't long before a door on the side opened and Quatre walked in, escorted by two guards. Both his hands and feet were shacked. Heero suspected it was more in hopes of humiliating him that preventing him from running or attacking anyone. His fine clothes were dirty and torn and his hair was disheveled. Beneath the shackles, his wrists were raw and his lip was split. Still, Quatre kept his head high and his back straight, walking with the poise of a judge, not an accused.
Heero kept his eyes fixed on Quatre and sure enough, Quatre glanced his way. His eyes widened slightly and the corners of his lips curved a little before he moved his gaze away.
As soon as Quatre was standing in the middle of the room another door opened and the Duke walked in and quickly took his place on the high chair. "Lord Winner," he began. "I would have never thought you would betray my dear nephew Trowa, taking his life in a greedy search of power." He shook his head in a mock act of disappointment. "Your father was a loyal man, and in honor of his memory, I'm willing to offer you some leniency if you admit your crimes in front of this court." He paused and glared at Quatre. "A full confession, boy. This is your last chance."
Quatre's voice was raspy but steady as he said, "I have nothing to confess."
The anger could be seen on the Duke's eyes. He slammed his hands on the arms of his chair and stood up. "Fine, boy. You have sealed your fate. The sentence is death by fire, to be carried out tomorrow at dawn."
The court was silent as the Duke made his exit. There were no cheers or hushed voices. The crowd remained silent until Quatre was escorted out of the room, and even after, the silence was heavy.
"If he killed him," Heero finally heard someone say in a hushed tone, "where is the body?"
"I thought they were friends," a confused female voice added.
"Lord Quatre has always been good to us."
"The Duke won't give us money for the orphanage like Lord Quatre did."
As he made his way out of the courtroom, the word Heero heard whispered more was innocent.
* * *
They didn't make him wait long but the minutes he spent tied to the wiping post were enough to make Quatre feel more frightened than he had ever felt before. It would hurt, he knew that, had tried to come to terms with that the previous night. The pain wasn't what scared him, what did was the possibility that he wouldn't be strong enough. He had Trowa's life in his hands and he hoped with all his might that he would have the courage needed to protect it.
It was the complete silence what alerted him of the Duke's presence. Quatre raised his head, holding it as high as he could. There weren't many people here, just a few of the Duke's trusted guards, but Quatre was determined to keep his dignity for as long as he could.
The Duke sat on the chair the guards had placed a few feet away from Quatre, facing him. It allowed the Duke to see Quatre's face all the time, ever grimace of pain. Quatre hardened his eyes and glared. He would be strong.
There was no need for words. The Duke merely sneered at Quatre and made a gesture with his hand.
And the world exploded in pain.
The taste of blood was heavy in his mouth but Quatre kept biting his lip, certain that if he stopped he wouldn't be able to hold back his screams. He took fast hurried breaths through his nose, trying to breathe through the pain.
He opened his eyes, realizing only then that he had closed them. Blinking back the tears, he focused his hardest stare on the Duke. He hadn't given up yet.
Another gesture from the Duke and again Quatre was immersed in pain. There was no time to recover and the whip fell again and again.
Quatre's fingers curled around the rope holding his hands over his head, his eyes shut, his breathing rapid and his teeth clenched.
"Feel like talking now, Lord Winner?"
The words sounded far away, as if they were brought by a distant echo. The whip had stopped for the moment but Quatre's back was on fire. Trough the pain, he opened his eyes and forced them to focus on the Duke. He didn't quite manage a glare, so he settled for spitting blood at the Duke's direction, even if he was to far to reach the man's feet.
Quatre had a single moment of satisfaction at seeing the ire in the Duke's face before the whip fell again.
At the end he couldn't hold back his screams. All sense of time vanished and all there was was the constant unbearable pain. He screamed until his voice started to give out and then some more.
He was dying… but Trowa was safe.
* * *
Yep, I celebrate the guy's day by whumping him... Is the way I show I care. ..
