This is the third fanfiction I have posted. I hope it is written good and that it isn't cheesy. Please review and I will update sooner. Policy-You review me, I'll review you! I hope you enjoy Hiryonin Ichimei (I really hope I did that right. It's supposed to mean slave life. If I did it wrong, please e-mail me and correct me so I can fix it, thanks.)
Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm) so NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun, and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...
Hiryonin Ichimei
Slave Life
By Storm
Heero pulled his gauntlets on a bit tighter and repressed a sigh. He brushed back some messy chocolate brown bangs from his cold blue eyes and stared out the small slit of light that came through the deep blue silk hangings. He again questioned in his mind why they had to use the royal carriage, even though he knew the answer. They were supposed to be making an entrance. The finest slaves would be brought out upon sight of the blue carriage with the royal banners and insignia. They would have the slave floor to themselves.
He looked over at Trowa, his best friend and adopted brother. Heero was the son of King Trieze Kushrenada and Queen Midii Une. When his mother had died when he was six, Trieze had brought Trowa in from the traveling entertainers. He had been brought as a playmate for Heero and an entertainer boy to brighten him up. Later, Heero had asked his father if they could adopt Trowa Barton, the circus boy. Trieze had agreed, and Trowa as well when Heero told him, for they had become best friends. The boys had been best friends for eleven years now, and adopted brothers for ten, and they were fiercely loyal and protective of each other.
Trowa looked over at him, his deep green eyes, which reminded Heero of the leaves at springtime, sparking in both nervousness and agitation, one half hidden by the brown bangs that fell over the side of his face. Heero consoled with his friend. While he had been to the slave floor three times so far with Heero, he had never had to pick out his own slave, and a personal one at that. Heero felt slightly unsure as well. He would rather have waited a few more years before getting a personal slave, but Trieze had insisted that both he and Trowa were a year overdue for one. Trieze himself had gotten a personal slave three years ago, and he claimed his boys needed to have one too. So he had sent them off to the slave floor in the royal best.
"Heero?"
"Yes, Trowa?" Heero replied.
"I do not want a slave," Trowa said softly, looking away as though ashamed, though one could never tell, as Trowa was an expert at hiding his emotions with a stoic face.
"Truly, neither do I," Heero answered. "But, if Trieze requests it, we have to." Calling his father Trieze was normal for Heero, and Trieze accepted it. It was tradition for the past Kings to change their children's last names, which was why Heero was Heero Yuy instead of Heero Kushrenada or Une, and for royal children to address their parents by their first name when they turned ten. It helped individuality.
"Requests? Orders, you mean. Trieze never requests." There was no anger in Trowa's voice, only fact.
"It's part of being a King," Heero openly sighed now, knowing he would one day have the burden. Not for a long time, at least. "Actually, my interest is piqued a little. Trieze has always seemed much brighter when Zechs is around."
Trowa didn't reply for a moment, then finally spoke. "Yes, I agree. Zechs…is pleasant to be around. He treats you like a human being, not a hideous monster to be cowered under like the other slaves. Zechs and Wufei. I don't think I was meant to have slaves."
"But you do and you will, Trowa," Heero pointed out. "It's a require..." He cut off as they suddenly stopped. "We're here." The pair sent each other a look of support and steeled themselves for what waited them as the door opened. A march through the slave floor.
The slave floor was an extravagant courtyard, with marble floors where the slaves would line up and the buyers would pass by and look at them. There were many other places to buy slaves, like the slave market and the slave auction, but everyone who was anyone knew the slave floor was where the best of the best were. If you were wealthy and wise, you bought at the slave floor.
A man, Master Tiper-Hayne, Heero knew, greeted them as they stepped down. He was the man who did the dealings in the slave floor, the exchanging of money and beings. He was a man who respected the slaves, kept them in good condition while still being able to make them servient. Master Archine met them at the door. Archine was the man who currently owned the slave floor and he, as well, was a very talented slave-master.
"Welcome to the slave floor, your Highnesses," Archine intoned in a deep warm bass as he bowed. Heero stared past him through the doors into the marble courtyard, glimpsing the lines already set as Trowa nodded in response to Archine. Tiper-Hayne led them through the doors and into the entrance, Archine taking a respected place behind them as was expected. They began to walk up the lines of well dressed, clean slaves, their wrists and feet bound in shining silver shackles connected to their neighbour. Most had their heads tilted down in respect of the princes, a few brave glances brushing their faces. When they reached the end of the line, Trowa whispered something in Heero's ear. Heero nodded, and Trowa left the viewing group to the brief surprise of Tiper-Hayne and Archine. Two guardsmen seperated from the main group and followed him at a small distance as he began to browse on his own. Tiper-Hayne and Archine quickly got over their surprise and continued with Heero. Both knew the adopted prince did unusual things at times. Heero secretly praised Trowa for being brave enough to walk out on his own, and repressed another sigh as he started down the second row.
Thank you for reading! Now, please review! Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please. I hope you enjoy Hiryonin Ichimei.