Title: The
Ice Prince or Such a Marvelous Rose
Author: Meiran Chang
( bonking_bishies @ swirve.com )
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: DorlianXSylvia,
1+R, 6+2, 3+4, 5+Dorothy, 6x9, 2xH
Warnings: shonen
ai, AU, fairy tale, angst, verrrrrrry mild self-insertion in, like, the
last sentence. I made Dorlian a total OOC wuss >_<. Also, I've
played fast and loose with family relationships and situations.
Comments: Ohhhhh
pretty please? --> bonking_bishies @ swirve.com
Archive: 6X2ML Archive
can have it. Otherwise,
please email me, I don't bite.
Disclaimers: I do
not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters, they belong to Bandai and Sunrise
and the American rights are owned by Cartoon Network. Please don't sue
me, I'll just cry a lot. Also, the original story of "Beauty and the Beast"
is by Mme Leprince de Beaumont and not mine either. I don't own anything
except... the original portions of this piece of fiction...whatever
they are.
Dedication: To the
6X2ML, because they're darlings all and the inspiration for
this fic.
The
Ice Prince
Chapter XI
Duo's first year with the Beast was... confusing. It passed
in a slow, heavy blur. He wasn't unhappy -- the Beast cared for him with tender
solicitude. Anything Duo asked for, anything Duo even hinted he might possibly
want, was his. Every day he ate the best and most exotic foods, wore the
richest and most comfortable fabrics, and went about in an environment of
immeasurable wealth, granted free passage everywhere. "I want you to be happy
here," the Beast would say, and at such times, there was a flicker of intense,
quickly hidden desperation in his eyes.
They weren't together all the time because the Beast had much experience
with unwanted company. Or so he said. Nevertheless, the Beast did dine with
Duo and proved an excellent dinner companion. Duo liked that, since the Beast
had at least a basic knowledge of many subjects and was always willing to
explain, elaborate, and share what he knew. Often, they would spend hours
arguing some abstract topic -- philosophy, ethics, spirit realms -- their
food growing cold and congealed as they expounded upon their points. When
a twinge of their hungry stomachs reminded them of reality, the Beast would
call his helpers, those ghostly green hands, which whisked away the cold food
to replace it seconds later with something fresh from the kitchens. Then
Duo and the Beast would continue from where they had left. The Beast's intellect
was keen and dry, and his opinions were fascinating in their uniqueness. In
some ways, he reminded Duo of Quatre. He was certainly intelligent enough.
However, unlike gentle Quatre, the Beast had a flair for sarcasm and eye
for irony that manifested itself in his peculiar speech mannerisms. He could
twist a phrase like a knife, as Duo, to his woe, soon discovered. He was always
kind and considerate, however, even when they disagreed, and he never allowed
himself to remain locked in one viewpoint. The Beast was at heart an idealist,
with grand and lofty ideals, and his own failure to reach those ideals hurt
him deeply. In particular, casual mention of Duo's family made him wince
and apologize. Clearly the Beast regretted taking Duo away.
Duo spent much of his time trying to figure out who the Beast had once been.
There were no clues and the Beast wasn't inclined to drop hints. Indeed, the
only reason Duo knew that the Beast couldn't possibly have been born in his
present form were some of his habits: his impeccable manners, the way he
nodded, shook his head, and shrugged. Beasts didn't pick up those patently
human habits. Duo spent days prowling the halls, searching for some telltale
insignia or coat of arms or portrait, but his searches were always fruitless.
All he learned was that his hunch about the Beast once being human was correct,
because there was simply no other sensible possibility. His friend refused
to affirm or deny any of Duo's other guesses about him, stiffly discouraging
inquiries into his history.
"If I could tell you, Duo, I would," the Beast had snapped once, exasperated
by Duo's persistence. "I tell you everything else, do I not? Please understand
that I cannot share my past with you and leave me in peace!"
Duo had responded with a cheeky salute and a nodded, "Will do, Stranger,"
and backed off. If his friend the Beast wanted to remain a riddle, so be it,
but Duo would take advantage of every opportunity he had to learn something
about this mystery he lived with. When he happened to pass the Beast by during
the day, he would toss the question out at him, hoping to surprise him into
an answer: "So who were ya?" In return the Beast would toss him a quelling
Look and go swiftly on his way.
This identity game was just a game, however, and it didn't take his mind
away from what was really tugging at him: his family.
He missed them, longed to be with them, and that was something the Beast
couldn't alleviate, though, to his credit, he tried. His companion was awkward
and hesitant when faced with things diverging from scholarly matters and didn't
know how Duo would respond to personal questions, though he rightly assumed
that they needed to be asked. So when the Beast queried him with gentle concern,
Duo did his best to answer, knowing the Beast didn't mean to hurt.
Duo poured his heart out talking about his father and brother and sister,
about his life at home, his life in general, quirks of his siblings, stray
moments he recalled. Talking, and the Beast's kindness in listening, helped.
Still, he wanted to be with them, and this want was a dull, gnawing need in
his chest, a wistful hope cherished in his dreams. He knew that they missed
him and likely thought him dead -- he watched them in his enchanted mirror
whenever he could, sick with the longing for home. He had never been away
from them before.
This ache in him grew worse as the months passed. He knew that it wouldn't
do him any good to cry for home. It wasn't healthy, and boys didn't cry. So
he would turn his mind to other things, like the books in the library or
his music. He wrote several songs while he was there. They sounded lonely
and forlorn when he plucked them out on the lute, and his voice was too yearning
and melancholy. He put his instruments away and lost himself in books more
often.
He wasn't used to depression and didn't much like it. Because he was unfamiliar
with it, he didn't know how to navigate it, how to avoid falling into the
mental traps that stimulated it. He knew that he made the Beast worry and
tried to hide his sadness under layers of glib cheer, but the Beast's slit-pupiled
eyes cut deftly through the masks he piled on. There were nights when he fell
asleep in the Beast's arms, held gently against the warm fabric of his friend's
clothing, because he was so lonely for his family that he longed for another
being's company.
He wasn't always sad, however. Because at heart he was an optimistic person,
Duo found ways to distract himself and make himself forget. The Beast was
always helpful in this regard. Sometimes the Beast would walk with him in
the garden and teach him some of what he knew about botany; sometimes he would
show Duo playful bits of magic, making the dinnerware hop and skip; and on
one occasion, Duo modeled for the Beast all the clothing in his closet (and
there were many lurid combinations to be had there). When the Beast lent
his voice to the "prestigious" role of fashion commentator, both of them
laughed until they wheezed.
The Beast, far from being the ferocious and barely sentient monster Duo
had envisioned nearly a year past when his father came home with a black
rose, became his dearest friend. Duo found new qualities and virtues in him
every day. Then winter came, and with it Duo's eighteenth birthday.
The day dawned unexceptionally. The pale winter sunlight slanted across
his room, and the view of the courtyard out of the window was particularly
lovely, as there had been a light snowfall the previous night. Despite the
protests of his luxury-eager inner self, he sleepily got out from beneath
the cozy blankets, washed his face, wrapped himself in a thick, plush robe
-- he chilled easily -- and plodded down the corridor to breakfast, yawning
as he went. The Beast was already eating, and gave him a nod of greeting
before continuing. Duo smiled in return, sat down and ate. The breakfast
was hot, just the way Duo liked it, and he ate slowly to savor the taste.
The Beast, rather than bid Duo good day when he was done and wander off,
waited patiently. When Duo finished and looked expectantly at the Beast, his
friend called the disembodied hands to take away the food and said, "Happy
birthday."
"Yeah? No kidding, it's my birthday? Already?" There wasn't much of a way
to keep track of time in the Beast's manor, so Duo had been waiting for winter
to roll around, figuring that he could count it a done deal when spring began
sneaking in. Duo grinned at his friend. "Yes! I'm eighteen! How did you know?"
The Beast waved the question away. "Does it matter? Anyway, since it's your
birthday, I thought I should... do something special."
"Aww."
The Beast carried on as if he hadn't heard. "So I'm going to meet you in
a room of the manor you've never been in and... tell you something... and give
you a gift, which you may accept or decline as you please. An hour after the
sun has set, ask the mirror where you're supposed to meet me. I enchanted
it last night as you slept, so for today only, when you ask, it will shrink
to a portable size. You should carry it in your hand as it provides direction,
since without it, you really will lose yourself."
"But I've been all over this place, Beast," Duo corrected.
The Beast smiled. "No. Not really." He pushed his chair away from the table
and rose. "Dress up if you like. Have a good day."
"Thanks!" Duo called as the Beast strode with his usual swiftness out of
the Dining Hall.
In a rather good humor, Duo returned to his room, grabbed 'Zero Visions'
by Tranto as he passed a bookshelf, curled up in bed, asked the mirror to
light the fireplace (which it promptly did), and read. Tranto, an ancient
priest of an old Uchuuese religion focused on paying homage to science, had
written an enormous volume containing the story of the world from beginning
to supposed end. He said that there were multiple universes existing simultaneously,
and multiple versions of every person in every universe. He claimed to have
seen into these different worlds, and devoted over six hundred pages to enumerating
what he saw there.
The world Tranto described that most disturbed Duo was a grim one, filled
with death, violence, conspiracies and lies. Tranto wrote, "I saw strife,
and war, and five children forced to fight, and massive machines that moved
with grace and power, striking fear into the hearts of the innocent and guilty
alike, ay! And there we lived in the stars under the rule of a fierce and
terrible army, unhappy, oppressed, twisted by propaganda, wounded and restless.
There was lifted up a cry for true justice and true peace, and those who lived
in the stars spawned five great machines, which we called Gundams, and children
fought in these, boys all, fifteen. Talented and great of spirit and noble
of heart and mind they were, but boys still, and they had the task of redeeming
humanity." The passage seemed to echo in Duo's mind, for whatever reason.
When he read of the boys themselves, the eerie feeling grew even greater:
"There were from all walks of life, all backgrounds, these boys, their only
similarities being their resolve to subdue and conquer this evil that so tainted
the world, and their hard and painful pasts. The first had the outward seeming
of a soldier and was perfection in skill; the second had touched a God, Shinigami,
and brought the God within himself to dwell; the third was a vacuum without
fear or dread, empty-eyed; the fourth an Empath who saw wounds of spirit
and cried for what he could not heal; and the fifth, grave and thoughtful
and relentless, a widower and grieving still."
When he discovered the names of the five boys according to Tranto -- Heero,
Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei -- he started and slammed the book shut. "That's
enough reading for today," he murmured as he placed the book, with its plain
dark blue cover, on his night table and eased himself out from beneath the
blankets.
He glanced over thoughtfully at his semi-sentient mirror. He'd asked the
Beast to explain about its enchantment in more detail one night over dinner,
and his friend explained that the mirror was equipped with a self-learning
spell. When pressured for more, the Beast shrugged and advised him to look
it up in his library, as it was difficult to explain. Duo did as recommended
and gained a great deal of respect for the Beast's level of Mage-craft, for
the enchantment called Self-Learning, which gave an object approximately the
brains of an intelligent monkey, was immensely difficult, required quite a
bit of magical power behind it, and drained its caster almost to the core.
The spellbook that Duo consulted on the matter recommended that the enchanter
do his or her work in parts, though spread out thus, it would take several
months to a year to complete, depending on the size of the object and the
degree of Self-Learning. Even so, the spellbook warned, the spell was quite
intricate and could seriously harm an enchanter who wasn't yet at a sufficient
power level. Making the mirror as bright as it was must have been a true challenge.
"I made the mirror especially for you...it was rather draining." The
Beast had been extremely modest.
The mirror, noting Duo's regard, began to sparkle flirtatiously, jolting
Duo out of his thoughts. "Can I see my family, please?" Duo asked the mirror,
which sparkled merrily and obliged.
He asked to see his family every day -- it had become a sort of ritual to
him, to check up on their well-being. His father had been seriously worrying
him lately, with his pale face and lackluster eyes, and it was clear to anyone
who could put two and two together why Dorlian had been so reduced: Duo. Duo
wished dearly to be able to assure his father that he was all right, but
unfortunately, that was a wish the mirror, with its limited capacity, was
unable to grant. Dorlian obviously thought Duo dead, eaten by the Beast, and
though now the image of the impeccably mannered Beast tearing into
some hapless body with slavering mouth and shaking jowls made Duo laugh, it
wasn't a laughing matter to his grieving father. Just the other day he had
seen Relena haranguing his father, and though the mirror couldn't provide
sound, it wasn't hard to imagine what Relena was lecturing about. Duo hoped
today brought some improvement.
Duo watched his father with amazed delight. Rather than mope about the house
looking barely alive, Dorlian was briskly cleaning the house up, dusting,
sweeping, arranging the sparse but colorful furniture, and beating the rugs.
Quatre entered the room, looking tired but cheerful, and embraced his father,
saying something and then heading in the direction of the kitchen. Then Quatre
came back, bearing a tray of coffee and some breadish snacks, before the mirror
sparkled white to let him know that would be all.
Feeling much uplifted, he thanked the mirror, which sparkled happily in
purple and pink before calming down, and glanced out the window. It was yet
some time until sunset, so Duo decided he might as well wander the garden.
He opened the door of his cavernous wardrobe to grab some appropriate winter
clothes -- a wolf's-fur tunic, thick breeches, leather boots, and a heavy
velvet cape -- and slid into them. He hesitated for a bit, then decided to
take his lute and composition-papers with him. He let himself out of his room
and walked the lengths of a couple of now-familiar hallways before finding
the great glass doors and striding through.
The garden, a timeless, magical place, seemed barely changed from the way
he remembered it scarcely a year past. Hummingbirds still hovered energetically
from flower to flower, along with their rivals in color, butterflies; the
flowers still bloomed, gloriously bright and larger than any Duo had seen
before he came here; the weeping willows bent gently, and their branches moved
with a soft rustling in the wind. When Duo asked the Beast why the weather
was always so mild inside the garden, and why the rain was always warm and
the harshest weather a light snowfall, the Beast explained that he had erected
a Veil over the courtyard to keep his beloved garden safe. Duo could still
watch storms rage outside of his window, but the Veil softened their inclemency.
However, the Beast had allowed the temperature to remain unaffected, so as
not to denature the plants completely. There was more magic involved, but
the Beast hadn't felt like explaining it all. It boiled down to the fact
that it was still cold in winter and one had to dress warmly.
Duo found a good spot underneath his favorite tree and spread his materials
before him. He felt much better than he had in weeks. The creative muse stirred
within him, and who was he to deny the prompting of such an impetuous and
fickle creature?
After an hour of hard work bent over the page, he had only about a verse
of song down, but the verse was excellent, much to his delight. It was a praise
of mages, lauding them for the great personal risks they took in magic's name
and thanking them, and silently he dedicated it to the Beast. He thrummed
experimentally on his lute, tuned it, and then sang a bit of what he'd written.
It was the first good song he'd been able to write in ages. The sound of his
voice didn't depress him. Glowing with the thrill, he scribbled out a few
more words, set them to the tune, and sang.
He spent the next few hours working furiously on the song, meaning to present
it to the Beast as a gift. He finished just as the clear winter sun began
to set, the sky muting to a soft silver-blue, and feeling accomplished and
much cheered, he went back indoors. He made a quick detour to eat a fast dinner,
though the Beast didn't show up, then retired to his quarters to pick out
what he was going to wear for this surprise of the Beast's.
The mirror sparkled green in worry that he'd be late as Duo alternately
frowned, squinted, pondered, and laughed over his clothing. Finally, he settled
on a deep blue tunic and breeches, decorated with stylized silver outlines
of leaves and birds across the chest and down the sides of the legs. Over
that, he wore a warm black cape that swooshed in a most satisfactory way
when he made a sharp turn. He let his hair down, brushed it until it slipped
through his fingers and felt like silk, braided the thick chestnut mass neatly,
tied the braid with a flourish, examined himself in the mirror, and pronounced
himself fit.
Remembering the Beast's instructions, Duo lifted the mirror off the wall
-- with some effort, as it was a heavy thing with a frame of actual gold inset
with precious stones -- and questioned it as to the Beast's location. Sparkling,
the mirror shrank to the size of his palm, making it much easier to carry,
and showed him the view of the corridor he'd need to go through first. He
took lute case in hand and went on his way.