Author: CleverYoungThief
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi, language, violence
Pairing: 13x5
Archive: Gundam Wing Addiction
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue. College kids are like L2 kids; we got nothin'.
Notes: This side-story slammed me over the weekend while I was supposed to be writing my ethics paper. Good thing I have two more weeks for that stupid paper, because I spent most of the weekend working on this instead. It was partially a practice for working with Wufei, since I don't work with him very often.
It's also an explanation of his thoughts about Treize in Requiem, chapter nine.
Scholar of Wine and Roses: A Requiem Sidestory
I'm going to kill him.
It was, admittedly, a bad night for an assassination. The moon was full, throwing Treize's estate into a cool silvery light almost as bright as full daylight. Acres of open vineyards surrounded the chateau. Climbing roses-complete with thorns-covered the back wall of the house itself, circling a balcony that led to the room where Treize himself slept.
Dreaming his dreams of domination and conquest, Wufei had no doubt.
But it had to be tonight, full moon or not. It was the first time the OZ general had been back to his estates in weeks, and while he was protected by guards while on the campaign trail, he demanded an extreme amount of privacy at home. The few guards he did have, Wufei noted, were posted at the gates of the sprawling estate, which was ironically dubbed Alexandria.
The two guards had been all too easy to award. The fifteen foot spiked iron fence that surrounded the property would have deterred any normal trespasser or sneak-thief, but Wufei Chang, warrior of the Dragon Clan, was neither.
He threw a rope around one of the wickedly sharp barbs at the top of the fence, and began a slow ascent, feet braced against the narrow iron bars, arms quivering with the effort of holding himself in such an awkward position. A stiletto blade was clenched between his teeth. Along with his grimace of exertion, it gave the impression of a terrible platinum snarl, steel twinkling grimly in the moonlight.
He climbed even more slowly as he reached the top of the fence, trying hard not to think about what it would feel like to slip and be impaled on those gleaming black spears. He especially didn't want to think about how long it would take him to die like that, a butterfly on a pin, while his blood trickled and stained the grapes below the color of roses.
Under most circumstances, Wufei considered assassination dishonorable, even cowardly. But when the lives of thousands of people were counting on it, he believed that there were definite exceptions to the rule.
Of course, as far as that went, Treize Khushrenada was an exception to every rule.
And the memory of Meiran's smile drove him on.
He finally scaled the fence and landed in a crouch, letting his knees absorb the shock. The blade in his mouth slipped a little as he hit the ground, and he could suddenly taste his own blood in a tangy metallic rush.
Whispering a soft Mandarin curse, he spat in the long grass of Alexandria's vineyards. What would be bright red in the day was almost black in the shadows. His tongue throbbed, and he spat again before straightening up and putting the knife in the small scabbard above his katana.
He scanned the fields, sloe eyes sharp in the darkness, shining from behind the black ninjitsu mask he wore. He had abandoned his white shirt and drawstring pants for the black robs of the assassin; he had no doubts as to what he was doing. He was dressed for murder.
The fields were too open to walk. Wufei dropped back on his stomach, using his elbows and arms to creep along. From above, he looked like a panther stalking through the vineyards. From below, hidden by the grape vines and the long grass that whispered around him, he was invisible.
As he crawled, he noticed the full dark grapes that hung at arm's length. On some primal urge he didn't understand, he reached up to one of the vines and picked a grape. He pulled his mask up with one hand and put it in his mouth, letting the night-chilled slickness of it soothe his cut tongue before he closed his teeth on the fruit.
It was sweet, but it still had a tinge of caustic bite to it. Almost ripe, but not yet. It stung his mouth.
Bittersweet. Like this entire mission.
A wave of hot shame rushed over him, warming his cheeks in the cold fall air. He jerked the mask back over his face, swallowing hard, even though he knew the taste would linger on.
He had lost to this man in a duel, fair and justly. He should have died then on Treize's rapier, run through the heart while the OZ general stood over him in triumph.
But he didn't.
The only reason he didn't kill me is because he considers me a child, Wufei thought furiously as he moved towards the palace. I am no child!
He was furious just thinking about it.
Yes, he should have died. He or Treize.
It ended here. Tonight.
But now, instead of dying with honor in a duel, he was going in after his enemy slithering like a snake. It was dishonorable. It was cowardly, this assassin's work. But he was too humiliated to challenge Treize again. What if he lost again? What if Treize again refused to kill him?
It would be a slap in the face.
He was defeated. No longer worthy to fight in Meiran's honor. This was the only path left open to him.
Wufei didn't think he could take it again. He would not disgrace Nataku's memory again. He would not.
He finally reached the wall of the palace. He brushed his hand against the stone wall, eyeing the intricate iron latticework that supported the climbing roses. He gave it an experimental jerk, causing rose pedals to flutter over him, landing on his hair and shoulders. The lattice seemed sturdy enough.
And if he found out halfway up that it would not support his weight...
Well, it was a long way down.
Determined he reached into the winter rose vines, wincing as thorns bit into his fingers and palms. Whether he lived to murder Treize or not, he would end up with blood on his hands.
One way or another.
He moved silently up the lattice, freezing and holding his breath when the ironwork creaked beneath his weight. Far below him, a hard wind blew across the vineyards, making the grass sigh in the darkness.
It seemed an eternity of climbing through the sweet-smelling roses that tore at his black robes and skin before he grabbed the railing of the balcony. In one swift, mute movement, he vaulted the railing.
There was a glass table on the balcony. On it sat a half-empty glass of red wine, strikingly crimson even in the shadows.
Without realizing what he was doing, Wufei took the chalice in his hand, the glass like ice in his bare hand. He lifted his mask again and raised it to his lips, taking a sip.
The glass smelled like roses.
It smelled like him.
Wufei felt that rush of warmth across his cheeks again, an emotion he instantly mistook for shame. He set the glass down and replaced his mask. He left a bloody set of fingerprints on the delicate glass.
His hands trembling in the starlight.
He closed his eyes for a moment and willed them steady. Treize had been honorable to him in the past. He deserved at least a swift, merciful death, a steady hand for the blade. Wufei had to atone for his cowardly methods, to make up for the fact that he was betraying both the general's honor and his own.
The door to the balcony was open. Wufei looked in and could see the low flames and hot coals in the fireplace as they lit the large room with a soft yellow glow.
Silently, walking on the balls of his feet, Wufei entered the room. In front of the fireplace, a large mahogany table was covered with papers and maps. Pins tipped with different colored glass were placed throughout the largest map, set to depict the movement of troops, their tips sparkling in the half-light.
And there he was.
Treize was lying sprawled across an enormous canopy bed, graceful even in sleep. Moonlight and firelight competed on the bared skin of his upper body, dappled shadow rippling on the relaxed muscles there. His face was slack in sleep, and his hair was mussed, making him look younger and more vulnerable than Wufei had ever seen him. One muscled arm was tucked behind his head, cushioning it, while the other laid across his pillow, palm up and open.
The OZ general lay draped in burgundy silk sheets, and nothing else.
Wufei swallowed hard.
He could still taste the wine.
It ends tonight.
Slowly, silently, he withdrew the knife from its scabbard. It glittered in the firelight.
His hand was trembling again.
He moved until he was standing directly over the OZ general. All it would take was one well-placed thrust, up and under the ribs, straight for the heart. Treize was laid before him, unarmed and defenseless, a fallen god on the alter, ready for sacrifice.
I cannot do this! It is unjust!
A smaller, colder voice spoke from deep inside him; it was the dark part of him that enjoyed destroying those who were corrupt.
::Was it honorable of him to kill Meiran?::
Wufei lowered his head.
He... he didn't do that.
The voice continued, undeterred. ::His men did it, and he gives their orders. Her blood is on his hands. He is her murderer, no matter who did the killing.::
That's not true...
::You know it is.::
Wufei swallowed, leaning over the sleeping general so closely he could feel Treize's breath on his face. The general was so warm, cheeks flushed with wine, so warm even though the room was cold. How could that be?
He tensed, preparing to drive the blade home. He took a deep breath, poised for the blow.
He froze that way for almost five minutes, waiting for his arm to complete the arc and land the thrust. His mouth ached terribly.
The stiletto hit the plush carpet with a dull thump.
I... I cannot do it. Not like this. Meiran... I failed you again.
Wufei turned, heading towards the entrance to the balcony.
He froze when a soft sound came from behind him.
"Wufei."
As if against his will, Wufei turned slowly back towards the bed.
Treize was sitting up in the canopy bed, gazing at him serenely. The dark red silk sheets were pooled in his lap. His expression was languid with leftover sleep, but his sky blue eyes were shining and alert in the shadows.
"You pick the strangest times for a duel, my friend." The general yawned, reminding Wufei of a great tawny lion, sluggish, but still dangerous.
His mouth dry, Wufei answered with the only response he could think of.
"I'm no friend of yours."
Treize shrugged the comment off with a nonchalance that maddened Wufei. "Are you leaving so soon then? You came only to prove how shoddy my security is, is that it? I appreciate the gesture, Wufei. But unless you have come for a nightcap, it's a bit late for games."
"I came to kill you."
"... I see." Suddenly, Treize's gaze caught the glimmer of the knife on the carpet. He leaned out of bed to pick it up, exposing a finely muscled calf and thigh. He sighed as he realized what it was. "Ah. So that is it."
Wufei was furious at the inflection in those words. "That is not it." He drew his katana in an instant, eyes flashing. "You have disgraced me! I was defeated and you did not even have the honor to finish it!"
Trieze laughed softly, the sound rolling like velvet in the darkness.
"So that's what this is about. You wanted me to kill you, then? You wanted to die for your colony?"
"I did not come to Earth to die for my country, I came to make you die for yours."
Treize laughed again. "Wise words from a wise man. Before Colony, I believe it's from? Ah, my young scholar. Just me, then?" He threw back the sheets, causing Wufei's eyes to widen in the darkness. The OZ general was as naked as the day he was born, and moved across the bedroom with the fluid power of a predator.
"You and all those who follow you."
Instead of facing him, Treize headed in the direction of the wardrobe, padding beautifully, muscles working in the moonlight. Wufei felt a fervent blush course through his face-not to mention various other parts of his anatomy-and he averted his gaze as Treize casually grabbed a cream terrycloth rob from the bureau, tying it around his waist.
"We will rematch, I suppose, if the defeat bothers you so much. Perhaps you can manage to kill me this time," Treize replied, his tone light.
"And if I do not?" Wufei asked, softly.
Treize took his sword from the wall, testing the weight of it in his hand as he tapped his bedside lamp, brightening the room.
"Then I will claim your life, Wufei Chang. I will claim you," he answered quietly, settling into a fencing stance. He raised his left hand a little, smiling gently as he moved his fingers in a beckoning gesture. "Come at me, dragon. Let us see what kind of warrior you really are."
Wufei moved forward with silent, deceptive speed. Treize backed away, retreating with economical movements, taking the fierce blows from the younger man's katana. He misjudged a lunge, and blood appeared on the sleeve of the bathrobe he wore like a magic trick. He heard Wufei's satisfied hiss and laughed, not even out of breath. "Ah, my young friend, you would draw first blood so quickly? Then I must try harder."
Wufei was galvanized with rage, transformed in his fury. Without being able to stop himself, he screamed as he thrust for the general's heart.
"You made me a widower!!"
Treize's eyes widened, and he suddenly thrust forward and away, flicking his wrist sharply.
Before he realized what had happened, Wufei found himself on the floor, bleeding from a shallow gash in his shoulder. He was weaponless. His eyes flickered wildly, searching for his katana.
Treize brandished both swords at him.
The two of them were silent for a moment, Wufei gazing up with humiliation and fury and shock, dark eyes wide. Treize gazed back down at him, his eyes calm and speculative and just as shocked as he looked down at the Chinese pilot, a solemn expression on his face.
"You are defeated, Wufei Chang," he announced softly, flipping the katana to face Wufei hilt-first. "And too young to be a husband, I might add."
Lashing out furiously, Wufei struck the offered sword away to skitter across the carpet. "That doesn't change the fact that you killed my wife. Your men. You."
His voice was trembling. "Now finish me off. If you can't, it makes you a coward without the courage of his convictions." Wufei held a hand to his shoulder, blood flowing slowly between his closed fingers. He stood shakily and pulled his bloodied hand from his wound. He waited for his death to come.
Without turning his own sword away, Treize reached forward and gently pulled up on the mask covering Wufei's face, dropping it to the ground. A face flushed from exertion was revealed, dark eyes glittering with unshed tears, loose hair falling in glossy ebony waves like a raven's wing.
"Kill me," Wufei whispered. Treize could see the young man's entire frame shaking with some untold emotion. "Please kill me."
"Why?"
Wufei bowed his head. "I can't win. You know that. I failed to avenge her. I just want to be with Nataku, even if I am not worthy."
"...Was that her name?"
Wufei spoke in a voice that was almost a sigh. "Meiran was her name. Nataku is what she was."
"You loved her?"
Wufei looked up at him in surprise. "I... it was an arranged marriage." His voice grew bitter. "I did not get a chance to learn how, thanks to you and men like you. I was not worthy to be her husband. But I will follow her now."
Treize looked at him a minute longer, then placed his rapier on top of the wardrobe, too high for Wufei to reach.
"You will follow her, dragon. But not tonight. Not yet."
Wufei stared at him wordlessly, uncomprehending. His black eyes flicked to the stiletto on the edge of the bed.
Treize saw it in the same moment.
The two raced for the weapon. Just as Wufei grabbed it, meaning to drive it into his own chest and snuff his life, Treize wrenched his wrist upwards and twisted it hard. The blade fell to the floor and Treize kicked it deftly away.
Wufei raised his free hand, meaning to strike the OZ general, before Treize caught that wrist as well, raising both until Wufei's feet almost lifted from the ground.
The Gundam pilot lashed out furiously, barely restrained tears finally streaking down his face in his fury. His feet connected with Treize's shins and knees furiously.
"You promised! Damn you, bastard, Khushrenada, you promised!" he cried out, thrashing.
"Stop it Wufei!!"
Abruptly, Treize dropped his wrists and pulled the young man to him.
Wufei gripped the front of Treize's robe fiercely, but there was no malice in it. He buried his face against Treize's chest, shoulders shaking.
Treize could still hear his muffled sobs.
"You promised to kill me, you said you'd claim my life, you promised..."
"I claimed your life. It is not the same," Treize whispered into the boy's hair. Because that's all he was, no matter how he spoke. The general's arms tightened around Wufei's back, letting him cry.
"Kill me."
Treize sighed, his hand moving in a soothing downward stroke against Wufei's back. "I will mark you to give you a reminder of your defeat, Wufei Chang. But I will not kill you. You cannot ask that of me."
Wufei looked up, face streaked with tears. "Mark me-"
Treize met his lips, cutting off the question.
Treize pulled back. Wufei had closed his eyes. He opened them slowly, a hazed realization dawning in those dark depths.
I will claim you.
Treize's face moved towards Wufei's again in such small increments it was as if he moved in slow motion, giving Wufei a chance to run, fight, protest... to do something. Anything. But he just stood there, allowing the general's lips to brush against his again.
I will claim your life then, Wufei Chang.
"Meiran..." he whispered against Treize's lips. Treize pulled back, looking at him.
"... is dead, Wufei," he whispered, gently. He pulled the Chinese pilot closer. Treize lowered his head, laying soft butterfly kisses along Wufei's neck. Wufei shuddered, hands tightening on Treize's robe, surrendering to the general's gentle touch.
"Forgive me, Nataku," he said silently with his eyes closed, his lips forming the words like a mute prayer. Treize bit down softly on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and his mouth opened in a shuddering gasp.
Forgive me for wanting this.
Treize gently unbuttoned the black robes, pushing them down Wufei's shoulders, exposing toned muscle and golden skin.
The sight of the young man's bloody wound stopped him cold.
Wufei shivered in his arms, a sharp shudder rocking him at the loss of the general's mouth against his skin.
"Treize?" he asked, eyes wide, disbelieving. His breathing was ragged. Treize read the words in those black depths. What are you... what are we doing?
Treize turned away, chagrined. "We'd best tend our injuries, dragon."
"Don't call me that," Wufei answered softly.
"Ah, yes. All right," Treize replied, but Wufei thought he saw a flicker of hurt in those cerulean eyes as the general looked away, and for one insane second he longed to throw himself into Treize's arms and take it back. Ridiculous.
It would hurt. Too damned much, and on too many levels.
But that didn't stop him from doing it.
Treize embraced him hard. Wufei pitched into the older soldier, disturbing Treize's center of balance. They fell together against the bed. They fit together simply.
It should have been harder.
~*~
Wufei woke alone in the sprawling bed, squinting from the sunlight shining in from the balcony. The fire had burned down to ashes. The table that had been covered with maps and documents was cleared.
His clothes, which had been in a haphazard pile on the floor, were folded there. His katana and stiletto were sheathed.
He sat up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. He swallowed hard as he remembered what had caused that stiffness. Not only the duel, but what had followed. A mortified part of him was shocked at the way he had arched and shifted, allowing Treize to do as he wished, but his body had been too greedy for the general's touch to allow dignity and modesty any rule.
He had been toyed with. Treize had kept him on the knife's edge of pleasure and pain until he had screamed and moaned and cursed and begged. Begged. There was more humiliation in that than in the loss of any duel.
The part that humiliated him the most was the part of him that had enjoyed it.
His neck was sore, and he suddenly saw himself in the wall-wide mirror across the room. He brought a hand up to it, rubbing at the dark red welt there.
::I will mark you to give you a reminder of your defeat, Wufei Chang.::
...Damn him.
His eyes wandered over the rumpled sheets of the bed, and he suddenly saw something on the bedside table on the side that Treize had slept on.
A note. And a rose.
Wufei leaned over warily, grabbing both. He hissed as his fingers closed around the stem of the rose, and he dropped it against the burgundy silk with a few drops of blood that soaked into the dark sheets.
Thorns.
He sucked his fingers ruefully. He realized he could still taste Treize on them, and his face reddened further. He unfolded the note.
I enjoyed your lesson, dragon, and I apologize for having left so suddenly. The war calls. I also apologize if I caused you any pain last night, although I hope I have compensated for it satisfactorily.I look forward to anything more you have to teach me.
Next time, I'd advise you to use the door, however. The roses are a bit of a climb.
Best regards,
~ Treize Khushrenada
OWARI
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