Boltstuck ~ Gundam Wing Fanfiction

Zephyr
Part 2

pairing:1x2, 3x4

zephyr (zêf´er) n. 1. a. The west wind. b. A gentle breeze. 2. Any of a various light, soft fabrics, yarns, or garments. 3. Any airy, insubstantial, or passing thing.

The Sorceress Une stepped carefully down the marble stair leading out into the garden, the layered panels of her blue skirt fluttering in the breeze. Her newest pet trailed behind her, lead by a gilded gold chain secured around his neck and staring ahead with blank green eyes. In her free hand, Une carried a sealed scroll. Pale blue eyes glared through thin-rimmed spectacles as the Sorceress scanned the garden. Shortly she spotted her goal curled up a patch of sunshine.

She gave a hard yank on the chain, nearly sending the boy stumbling to the ground, and moved purposefully towards the rose bushes. Her quarry surely heard her approach but made no move to acknowledge her presence. Soon as she was within speaking distance, Une drew herself up straight and signaled her pet to kneel on the ground. The boy obeyed immediately, bowing his head so the fall of auburn hair covered even more of his features.

"Treize-sama," she called clearly. The bundle of black-stripped russet-orange fur stirred and the tiger lifted its head. It regarded her with deep brown eyes. "The message you were waiting for has arrived." She held out the scroll, wielding it before her like a dagger.

The tiger produced a soft sound, uncoiling itself entirely. It lengthened its body in a feline stretch, extending each limb to loosen the muscles, then stood firm. Power rippled the air around the beast and it rapidly shrunk, some in length, mostly in bulk. It heaved upwards on forepaws that were swiftly separating into fingers, and became upright. A few heartbeats later and Trieze Khushrenda stood unabashedly bare in the afternoon sun.

"Thank you, Lady Une," a faint smile curved his lips as he accepted the scroll from her pale hand. His deep blue eyes flicked sideways to were the boy knelt. "A new one?" Disgust tinted his otherwise disinterested tone.

"Old one, actually," she smirked, "He had a powerful spirit that took quite a while to break and tear free," here a frown marred her stern features.

Treize raised an eyebrow, breaking the stamped wax seal on the scroll. "Didn't go has planned?"

"Not quite." She hedged, reaching out to lightly fluff the drab of hair obscuring one side of the boys face. Accepting that she didn't want to discus it, Treize nodded wisely and returned to the message. He scanned through it, then smiled.

"Very good," satisfaction was clear in his voice, "The very last of the troops are in place. I must remember to thank Zech's for his efforts."

"Hmm." Une's forehead creased slightly at Zech's name, but it softened away quickly. "Wonderful, the plan is preceding exactly as planned."

"Indeed," the elegant man smirked, tapping the scroll against the heel of his right hand. "Indeed."

Sunlight beamed in through the tent flap, glaring off the white pages of his book. The small sand witch sighed and tilted the book free of direct light. The old archive with its--badly--handwritten archaic script and dull subject was difficult enough to read without getting sunburn from the glare. Quatre badly wanted to put it down and ignore it. Still....he needed to study. Studying, along with the various ceremonies he practiced regularly, was the only way for him to improve in his magic using.

He glanced up from the book, peering through golden bangs at the buff colored raptor hooded and tethered to its block perch. Grief tightened his chest. [Oh, Trowa...] Memories of his green-eyed friend-beloved drifted through his mind.

Trowa had been part of a mercenary troop hired by Quatre's father when the teen had chosen to head out of the searing world of their desert home to the cool forests and mountains of the Northern Kingdoms. Quatre had resented it at first, he may still be an apprentice when it came to magic, but he wasn't helpless! And he would be traveling with the Maganac nomads, so it wasn't like he was alone. Still, his father had insisted that Northerners saw witches as practitioners of evil and he didn't want his son in danger because of them.

Quatre tried very hard to be understanding, it was only out of care for him anyway, but when he saw the great, dirty, hulking brutes that showed up, he just about had a fit. As it was, the youngest of his many sisters spent most of the day calming him down. His temper was very mild indeed, but when roused had all the deadly fury of a sandstorm. Even when he had calmed down, he was certain that the mercs poised more of a threat to his life then the Barbarian Northerns.

[And I was partially right....] He smirked slightly, fingers stroking the soft fur bedding he was stretched out on.

Amongst the mercenaries was a young man, surely no older then Quatre's 15 years, who's lean, lovely figure and soft, saddened eyes intrigued the young witch. When they first met at the Winner family territories, Trowa was unaware that the delicate blonde boy was the one he was hired to protect. Quatre used this to his advantage to learn more about the other boy.

It had been like pulling teeth.

To this day, Quatre was very proud that had learned not only Trowa's name, but also that he was an orphan and raised by the mercs. Then Trowa was called away to formally meet the new employers. The look on Trowa's face when he learn who Quatre was had been priceless. It was gone quickly, but the memory of it remained warm and fresh in Quatre's mind.

Things became more bothersome has Trowa insisted on being polite and respectful and wouldn't talk *at all* beyond the infrequent "Yes, sir", "No, sir". Time meant to be spent furthering his magic was instead spent chasing the Mercenary from one end of the caravan to the other. Was Quatre ever surprised when one day, Trowa turned around and grabbed *him*. And that was when temptation began.

Quatre winced, rolling unto his back and pushing the book away from him too lost in memories to even think about studying. [I go from hardly ever looking at another person--to not being able to keep my hands off Trowa in the space of one day. And I know he felt the same.] That poised more of a problem then simple teenage hormones.

All magic users follow the same basics for using and manipulating magic, with variations for their own magical nature. Titles like mage or sorcerer or wizard had more to do with training and principles then power types. A necromancer, for example, could just as easily be an evil sorcerer raising armies of living dead or a friendly wizard raising family members for one last final goodbye. He/she could even be a sideshow magician bringing children's pets back to life for that matter. It all varied.

The one exception was witches. Primarily, witches could manipulate energy and interact with the spirit world. What made witches unique was that their magic was directly linked to their hormones and sexuality. This gave them the ability to absorb and convert sexual energy into magical energy. Another nifty talent included being able to control others through their sexual desires and pleasure. This also provided two major downsides.

One; apprentice witches had to remain celibate, at least to a certain extent. If they didn't, they could either permanently cripple their ability to use magic or lose control of the power and kill their partner in addition to crippling their magic. This was changed soon as the witch leaned reached journeyman level and had more control over their powers.

Two; rape, to a witch of any level not only crippled them, but also caused a power transference, so all of their energy reserves were absorbed by the attacker. Raping witches was a popular method for dark sorcerers to get a quick power boost.

Quatre took in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. He gazed at the roof of the tent, idly tracing the patterns woven into the material with his eyes. [Poor Trowa, you start paying attention to me and suddenly the entire clan turns into a horde of mother hens. We couldn't get a moment alone. Yeesh, some faith they have in me.] He tugged the light brown jacket he wore closer around him, [I didn't even get the chance to tell him why....]

The sound of approaching footsteps shattered his daydreaming and he twisted quickly onto his side and snagged the book. He'd lost his place, so he just opened to a random page and assumed a look of intense concentration.

The stiff tent flap was pushed open, allowing a gust off cool air to swirl in. Quatre shifted his eyes up to take in the massive bulk of Rashid, leader of the Maganac clan. The small witch smiled warmly seeing his friend.

"Quatre-sama? How are you feeling today?" Rashid questioned in his deep, firm voice.

"I'm fine."

"Studying?"

"Hmm....yeah."

The large man chuckled at the teen's uncertain answer. He had children himself and was well used to the avoidance of chores and duties. "Remember Quatre-sama, the better you become the greater your chances of freeing.... hmmph." He broke off, aware he was approaching dangerous ground.

He didn't approve of Quatre's feelings for the other boy; a lowly mercenary was hardly worthy of the highborn witch. Still, Quatre did care deeply for him and Rashid really had no right to judge.

Quatre's lips tightened. "You're right," he said softly, eyes riveted to the hawk. Rashid shifted uneasily, suddenly feeling as if he no longer existed. "Very right. Come for me when dinner is ready." his attention returned to the book, this time his focus real.

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Rashid bowed politely and left the tent.


	Boltstuck Gundam Wing Fanfiction / All Fanfiction
	Zephyr Part 2 pairing:1x2, 3x4 zephyr (zêf´er) n. 1. a. The west wind. b. A gentle breeze. 2. Any of a various light, soft fabrics, yarns, or garments. 3. Any airy, insubstantial, or passing thing. The Sorceress Une stepped carefully down the marble stair leading out into the garden, the layered panels of her blue skirt fluttering in the breeze. Her newest pet trailed behind her, lead by a gilded gold chain secured around his neck and staring ahead with blank green eyes. In her free hand, Une carried a sealed scroll. Pale blue eyes glared through thin-rimmed spectacles as the Sorceress scanned the garden. Shortly she spotted her goal curled up a patch of sunshine. She gave a hard yank on the chain, nearly sending the boy stumbling to the ground, and moved purposefully towards the rose bushes. Her quarry surely heard her approach but made no move to acknowledge her presence. Soon as she was within speaking distance, Une drew herself up straight and signaled her pet to kneel on the ground. The boy obeyed immediately, bowing his head so the fall of auburn hair covered even more of his features. "Treize-sama," she called clearly. The bundle of black-stripped russet-orange fur stirred and the tiger lifted its head. It regarded her with deep brown eyes. "The message you were waiting for has arrived." She held out the scroll, wielding it before her like a dagger. The tiger produced a soft sound, uncoiling itself entirely. It lengthened its body in a feline stretch, extending each limb to loosen the muscles, then stood firm. Power rippled the air around the beast and it rapidly shrunk, some in length, mostly in bulk. It heaved upwards on forepaws that were swiftly separating into fingers, and became upright. A few heartbeats later and Trieze Khushrenda stood unabashedly bare in the afternoon sun. "Thank you, Lady Une," a faint smile curved his lips as he accepted the scroll from her pale hand. His deep blue eyes flicked sideways to were the boy knelt. "A new one?" Disgust tinted his otherwise disinterested tone. "Old one, actually," she smirked, "He had a powerful spirit that took quite a while to break and tear free," here a frown marred her stern features. Treize raised an eyebrow, breaking the stamped wax seal on the scroll. "Didn't go has planned?" "Not quite." She hedged, reaching out to lightly fluff the drab of hair obscuring one side of the boys face. Accepting that she didn't want to discus it, Treize nodded wisely and returned to the message. He scanned through it, then smiled. "Very good," satisfaction was clear in his voice, "The very last of the troops are in place. I must remember to thank Zech's for his efforts." "Hmm." Une's forehead creased slightly at Zech's name, but it softened away quickly. "Wonderful, the plan is preceding exactly as planned." "Indeed," the elegant man smirked, tapping the scroll against the heel of his right hand. "Indeed." Sunlight beamed in through the tent flap, glaring off the white pages of his book. The small sand witch sighed and tilted the book free of direct light. The old archive with its--badly--handwritten archaic script and dull subject was difficult enough to read without getting sunburn from the glare. Quatre badly wanted to put it down and ignore it. Still....he needed to study. Studying, along with the various ceremonies he practiced regularly, was the only way for him to improve in his magic using. He glanced up from the book, peering through golden bangs at the buff colored raptor hooded and tethered to its block perch. Grief tightened his chest. [Oh, Trowa...] Memories of his green-eyed friend-beloved drifted through his mind. Trowa had been part of a mercenary troop hired by Quatre's father when the teen had chosen to head out of the searing world of their desert home to the cool forests and mountains of the Northern Kingdoms. Quatre had resented it at first, he may still be an apprentice when it came to magic, but he wasn't helpless! And he would be traveling with the Maganac nomads, so it wasn't like he was alone. Still, his father had insisted that Northerners saw witches as practitioners of evil and he didn't want his son in danger because of them. Quatre tried very hard to be understanding, it was only out of care for him anyway, but when he saw the great, dirty, hulking brutes that showed up, he just about had a fit. As it was, the youngest of his many sisters spent most of the day calming him down. His temper was very mild indeed, but when roused had all the deadly fury of a sandstorm. Even when he had calmed down, he was certain that the mercs poised more of a threat to his life then the Barbarian Northerns. [And I was partially right....] He smirked slightly, fingers stroking the soft fur bedding he was stretched out on. Amongst the mercenaries was a young man, surely no older then Quatre's 15 years, who's lean, lovely figure and soft, saddened eyes intrigued the young witch. When they first met at the Winner family territories, Trowa was unaware that the delicate blonde boy was the one he was hired to protect. Quatre used this to his advantage to learn more about the other boy. It had been like pulling teeth. To this day, Quatre was very proud that had learned not only Trowa's name, but also that he was an orphan and raised by the mercs. Then Trowa was called away to formally meet the new employers. The look on Trowa's face when he learn who Quatre was had been priceless. It was gone quickly, but the memory of it remained warm and fresh in Quatre's mind. Things became more bothersome has Trowa insisted on being polite and respectful and wouldn't talk at all beyond the infrequent "Yes, sir", "No, sir". Time meant to be spent furthering his magic was instead spent chasing the Mercenary from one end of the caravan to the other. Was Quatre ever surprised when one day, Trowa turned around and grabbed him. And that was when temptation began. Quatre winced, rolling unto his back and pushing the book away from him too lost in memories to even think about studying. [I go from hardly ever looking at another person--to not being able to keep my hands off Trowa in the space of one day. And I know he felt the same.] That poised more of a problem then simple teenage hormones. All magic users follow the same basics for using and manipulating magic, with variations for their own magical nature. Titles like mage or sorcerer or wizard had more to do with training and principles then power types. A necromancer, for example, could just as easily be an evil sorcerer raising armies of living dead or a friendly wizard raising family members for one last final goodbye. He/she could even be a sideshow magician bringing children's pets back to life for that matter. It all varied. The one exception was witches. Primarily, witches could manipulate energy and interact with the spirit world. What made witches unique was that their magic was directly linked to their hormones and sexuality. This gave them the ability to absorb and convert sexual energy into magical energy. Another nifty talent included being able to control others through their sexual desires and pleasure. This also provided two major downsides. One; apprentice witches had to remain celibate, at least to a certain extent. If they didn't, they could either permanently cripple their ability to use magic or lose control of the power and kill their partner in addition to crippling their magic. This was changed soon as the witch leaned reached journeyman level and had more control over their powers. Two; rape, to a witch of any level not only crippled them, but also caused a power transference, so all of their energy reserves were absorbed by the attacker. Raping witches was a popular method for dark sorcerers to get a quick power boost. Quatre took in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. He gazed at the roof of the tent, idly tracing the patterns woven into the material with his eyes. [Poor Trowa, you start paying attention to me and suddenly the entire clan turns into a horde of mother hens. We couldn't get a moment alone. Yeesh, some faith they have in me.] He tugged the light brown jacket he wore closer around him, [I didn't even get the chance to tell him why....] The sound of approaching footsteps shattered his daydreaming and he twisted quickly onto his side and snagged the book. He'd lost his place, so he just opened to a random page and assumed a look of intense concentration. The stiff tent flap was pushed open, allowing a gust off cool air to swirl in. Quatre shifted his eyes up to take in the massive bulk of Rashid, leader of the Maganac clan. The small witch smiled warmly seeing his friend. "Quatre-sama? How are you feeling today?" Rashid questioned in his deep, firm voice. "I'm fine." "Studying?" "Hmm....yeah." The large man chuckled at the teen's uncertain answer. He had children himself and was well used to the avoidance of chores and duties. "Remember Quatre-sama, the better you become the greater your chances of freeing.... hmmph." He broke off, aware he was approaching dangerous ground. He didn't approve of Quatre's feelings for the other boy; a lowly mercenary was hardly worthy of the highborn witch. Still, Quatre did care deeply for him and Rashid really had no right to judge. Quatre's lips tightened. "You're right," he said softly, eyes riveted to the hawk. Rashid shifted uneasily, suddenly feeling as if he no longer existed. "Very right. Come for me when dinner is ready." his attention returned to the book, this time his focus real. Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Rashid bowed politely and left the tent.