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Sky to Gold	By : BlackberryPatch Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male > Treize/Zechs Views: 3801 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 4
- 5
- 6
5

At least the cell was dry. And relatively warm. Treize sighed as he leaned back against the stone wall of his prison.

He supposed he should have seen this coming. He'd always known Zechs was more than what he pretended to be, and Treize had never thought of him as just a slave. But the Crown Prince? Treize hadn't been expecting that.
He hadn't seen Zechs at all since the patrol had ridden up to them earlier today. Since that woman had thrown her arms around him; held him like a lost long brother... or a lover.
Maybe that was what was bothering him the most. More than being arrested, more than his pending execution...
The late afternoon sun was filtering in through the narrow window, and Treize realized that tomorrow might very well be his last day alive. He was under arrest, for abduction, contributing unlawfully to the slave trade, and a hundred other charges pertaining to the misconception the guards seemed to have that he was the one who had stolen the prince from his room that night ten years ago.
Treize knew the story. The whole country knew the story, though the government had tried to repress it. The story of how the young prince, the pride of his country, his family, had mysteriously vanished from his room one night; had vanished from the palace. The official story was that he had been called away to the bedside of an ill relative who lived far off in the country. He'd stayed with this relative for several months, and then met with a fatal accident on his return journey. That was the story, but those who actually believed it could be counted on one hand. There was speculation- where had he been taken?- and rumor- who had done it?- but the country mourned, and soon forgot all about their shining prince. They accepted the princess, his younger sister, as their new heir.
His sister. If she was the same sister he had spoken of, Zechs was probably glad to find that she hadn't been harmed by Dermail. Treize's expression darkened. Dermail. That man had done so much, worked so hard, to make Zechs' life a hell. Why? Because he could, Treize answered himself surprisingly easily. Treize had been fourteen when the prince had disappeared. He remembered it. He remembered how everyone forgot, moved on with their lives. His hands curled into fists. While they had been forgetting, Dermail had been torturing the hell out of a nine-year-old boy.
Oh, Zechs...
Wait. No, Treize frowned. That's not his name. He was going to have to stop thinking of him as that. Milliardo. His name was Milliardo. It was a lovely name, maybe even nicer than Zechs. But Treize wasn't quite sure it had sunk in yet that the slave he'd stolen, had in his bed the past nights, was the Crown Prince of Sanq.
A prince. With princely duties, and the like. With a fiancee, no doubt. That woman... Lucrezia, Zechs- no, Milliardo- had called her. She was obviously a close friend. Perhaps, more than a friend... Treize dismissed that last thought.
Or tried to. It was hard to think of Zechs as having a life and people who cared for him; a life that did not include Treize.
Dammit, Milliardo. Milliardo had a life, not Zechs. And Treize wondered if the man he'd known even existed at all.
Yes, he thought to himself. It's Milliardo- Milliardo is the one I've been seeing in Zechs' passion. He smiled to himself.
"What are you grinning about, scum?"
Treize's eyes shot up to the small window in the door. The guard leered at him. He could hear the key jangling in the door, and he tensed. His eyes narrowed as a group of four guards entered the cell, all with the same dark expression on their faces as they looked at him. Treize stood, keeping his back against the wall behind him; the wall farthest from the door, not that there was much room in the cramped cell. He kept his eyes on the group, but when a pair of them moved toward him they moved so fast, and completely in sync with each other, that he barely saw them. The first one slammed him back against the wall, cracking his head against the stone, and before his head cleared they had his arms pinned behind him.
"Well there scum, we heard about how nice you treated His Highness while he was staying with you," the leader of the group was holding an empty bottle and looking at it thoughtfully. "So, we decided we should show you some of the same hospitality." He gripped the bottle firmly by the neck and smacked the bottom of it against the wall so that it shattered into ragged edges.
Treize clenched his jaw as the man advanced on him. He could have fought them... if he didn't empathize so strongly with what they wanted to do. He would have loved to take a bottle to the man who had hurt Zechs, and do a thousand other things to him as well. But Dermail had met his end at Zechs' hands, which was the most appropriate. Treize could have told them that. Not that they would have believed him; and he would never betray Zechs that way. He wasn't sure what the laws were concerning princes who went after their subjects with table knives, but he wasn't about to try to find out. Treize closed his eyes and turned his head away as he felt the sharp edge of glass against his cheek.
Zechs...
The door flew open. "What do you think you are doing, Sergeant?"
Treize opened his eyes. The woman, Lucrezia, was standing in the doorway glaring daggers at the man with the bottle.
"Captain Noin," he said, his voice harsh with emotion. "After what he did," he gestured at Treize, "would you stop us?!"
She fixed her steely gaze on him. "Sergeant, return to your post." She flicked her eyes over the others. "Now." The sergeant grumbled, but he went, the group trailing after him as they had entered. Noin spoke with the tone of someone who was not used to being disobeyed.
She entered the cell, not bothering to close the door behind her. Her eyes held Treize's, and he stood waiting for her. Standing before him, she whipped out her dagger and held it to him throat. "Well?" she said, her voice steel. "After what you did, what do you think I should do?"
Treize closed his eyes. "I never hurt Zechs. I would never. But do what you must."
He felt the dagger leave his throat. He opened his eyes and met the fierce purple ones of the woman standing in front of him. "Come with me," she said, and she turned sharply on her heels and left the cell without looking back.
Treize paused a moment, looking at the open door. And then he followed her.
She lead him to what he assumed was her office, and when he entered she motioned for him to close the door behind him. It was a large room, full of chaos in the form of books and paperwork in various stages of completion. Weapons decorated the far wall behind the desk, and observing the woman who sat in the desk chair eyeing him, he had no doubt that she was an expert with each and every one of them.
"Zechs," she said to him, a slight question in her voice.
Treize was momentarily puzzled, but them remembered, "Dammit, Milliardo!" He put a hand to his forehead and then ran it viciously through his hair. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting."
She was watching him. "You never knew that was his name before today," she said, a statement with something of a question behind it.
"No," Treize responded, not looking at her.
"You killed Duke Dermail."
Treize looked at her. He folded his arms over his chest. "Yes."
She leaned forward. "Why?"
"Because he entered my house uninvited with intent to steal."
"How do you know his intent?"
Treize's eyes narrowed as he gazed at her. This was not the interrogation he expected. Actually, he had expected that he would be sentenced without having to open his mouth. Did she know something that she wasn't saying, something more than her compatriots? Had she been talking to Zechs?
"Because," he said, "I stole it from him in the first place."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh?" She leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. She glanced at him suddenly. "The reason we came to your estate this morning, is that we received information from a woman who would not name herself that you had a slave you were violently mistreating, and that your actions worried her."
While he had been surprised at first, Treize was suddenly suspicious. "This woman, she wasn't by any chance slightly shorter than you with long blonde hair was she?"
"Yes," Noin confirmed.
"Dorothy Catalonia," Treize said. "I can well imagine that the way I was treating Zechs worried her. She was pissed as hell when I refused to give him back to her."
"I see." Noin's eyes pierced him, looking through him, and he wondered what she saw. She glanced out the window suddenly. "I have an appointment," she said as she rose from her chair. "Stay here. If you leave, I will find you," he did not doubt her, "though perhaps not before someone far more unpleasant does."
He nodded, but his hands clenched suddenly against the inaction. "Ze- Milliardo," he corrected himself. "How is he?"
She paused, hand on the door, and looked at him. "I haven't spoken with him. He appears to be well."
Treize nodded his thanks, and she left, locking the door behind her. He went around the desk and sat in her chair. It was the only one in the room, besides a pair of stools shoved under a table, and he felt he was going to be here for awhile. Treize sighed. While his situation was looking up for the moment, there were still many things to consider.
First and foremost, was Zechs-
"Dammit," he mumbled to himself, and decided right there that he was going to learn the name of the man he loved, before anything else.
Settling back comfortably in the chair, Treize leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He called up memories and played them out on the inside of his eyelids; golden hair falling around him, hot breath in his face, hands on his chest suddenly gripping his arms accompanied by a wondering gasp, soft skin under his fingers and lips.
"Milliardo," he named these sensations, branding them such in his mind.

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Sky to Gold