I left such a huge cliffhanger, huh? Well you can all relax after you read the first line of this. And then kill me when you read the last.

Before you kill me, go read the prologue of Prescience. I got tired of Luna so I made a story that's got more Duo in it. All kinds of Duo. I'm not kidding. It has Victim!Duo, Godofdeath!Duo, Cheeky!Duo, AbsolutelyFuckingInsane!Duo ... no Lunas in sight. Well, not yet. It will end up with a KinkyS&M!Duo. And more Evil!Quatre. I seem to be doing that all the time ...

MoonChild

Chapter Thirty – Her Hair is not the only Red Thing

It was in the dead of night when he opened the door to his quarters, and the first thing he saw was Luna. All sorts of relief flowed through him when he realized that he was paranoid, and that Luna was not gone.

He stumbled forward, then turned back, mentioning to the Doorguard not to disturb him that night. They nodded the affirmative.

Heero walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Luna was sitting, hunched over his desk, breathing deeply in sleep. Underneath him was a large scroll of paper and a quill, obviously from his lessons with WuFei.

Heero reached out and softly touched Luna's hair as he slept. He put the stopper on the bottle of ink, now dried to uselessness, and moved it into one of the drawers of the large oak desk.

Luna didn't stir. The emotionlessness of his face as he slept betrayed how exhausted he was.

There was a single candle on the desk, which Luna had been using for light to copy the letters WuFei had written on the scroll. It had burned down to the point where what little light it gave was not enough to see whether Luna's copied letters were any good or not. Heero was glad he could not see them. He knew that they would be an affront to the language.

Luna was just that horrible at it.

Heero slowly eased the quill from Luna's lax fingers, staring at it in confusion. He was sure he had said at some point that Luna would have one of Wing's feather's for his quill, and he was using a duck feather now.

He shook his head and resolved to fix it later. For now he had to get Luna to bed.

Luna.

Bed.

Luna.

Luna was here. The realization dawned on him again, having been put out of his mind while he tidied the desk.

Luna was still here.

He didn't know when or how it happened, but within seconds he had leaned over Luna's sleeping form, wrapped one arm around his stomach, the other supporting himself in the awkward bent over position, and buried his face in Luna's hooded hair.

All of a sudden he was there, pressed behind him, and Luna was slowly waking, turning to see him.

There was practically no light, so the ink smudge all over Luna's cheek where he had been sleeping was at first passed off as a shadow.

After a moment, though, Heero saw what it was, and there was something incredibly sexy about it.

Heero didn't know what it was about that smear that was arousing. He knew that within seconds of seeing it, he was no longer just holding Luna like a child who had had a bad day, now he was kissing him like a man who had a gorgeous, ink-smudged slave underneath him. Hungrily. Greedily.

Luna had now successfully woken up and blinked himself to awareness. He was in an awkward position, bent over his master's desk, his master leaning over his body, his face turned so that his mouth could be taken.

Heero suddenly left his mouth, and went to his neck, Luna's hood being a horrid annoyance in his way. Luna went to push it back, but Heero would have none of that, instead pulling out the pins that held it into Luna's hair, and casting it off his head entirely.

His hands were then at Luna's waist, pressing their bodies awkwardly together again.

It became clear to Luna that he would have to stand up. The memory of what they had done only the previous night was playing havoc with his body. He was exhausted and his head still hurt, but he could remember being made love to.

And he was not about to reject a second round, especially not when he didn't have time to secondguess it. All he had time to do at that point was feel Heero's breath, tongue and teeth on his neck, and to remember the feel of him inside of his body.

He rose off the chair, feebly trying to kick it away, but Heero's chair was a thing of sturdiness, solid and heavy and not about to budge. Luna expected Heero to move it for him, but that wasn't about to happen.

Instead, Heero pushed Luna close to the desk and squeezed himself between Luna and the chair.

With the change in angles so that they were better aligned, Luna could suddenly feel exactly how needy his master was. And it was then, his master's hands on his waist, his knees slowly nudging Luna's apart, that Luna realised.

He was about to be bent over a desk and taken from behind.

The whole revelation was pushed from his mind when his master's hand slid down from his waist, over his hip to the hem of his tunic, then under it, lifting the garment up. His hand trailed, not lightly, over Luna's sex and untied the drawstring on his pants, then delved inside, where he immediately set to pleasuring him.

Luna could feel his master's arousal pressing into his backside. He was almost as interested in it as he was in the hand that was rubbing him. He had the urge to lean back into Heero, to push himself wantonly against his lover, and he did.

He didn't get close enough, his master's and his own clothing in the way.

Neither of them really knew what had come over Heero. It was probably a mixture of adrenaline and fear and the fact that the night before, he had come off a dry spell of a few months. The fact that Luna only seemed to want to push back against him didn't really help him to calm down.

Heero didn't have a habit of having sex outside his bedroom, or even his bed for that matter, so he knew there was no oil in his desk drawers. He was also a very proper person, who had never spat in his life. Which meant this would be dry.

His mouth was still attached to Luna's neck, and Luna was grinding against him fervently. Luna moaned, and it was such a loud moan that Heero could feel it through his lips.

The hell with it, he thought, as he removed his hand from Luna's pants. Luna seemed upset at the loss, but still pressed into Heero, obviously wanting something more fulfilling than his hand.

Heero pulled Luna's pants to the floor, and once down Luna stepped one leg out of them, spreading his legs and then pressed himself back to Heero.

Luna could obviously tell the difference between two layers of clothing separating them and just one, because he lolled his head back on Heero's shoulder and began panting heavily.

It wasn't going to work that way and they both knew it. Although it was highly tempting simply to let Luna push his backside into his clothed erection, as it was pulling some rather pleasing sensations from his body, Heero pulled away.

He put one hand between their bodies to caress Luna's bare skinned bottom. The other he placed on the boy's back, gently applying pressure to get him to lean over the desk.

As Luna complied, Heero pushed a finger inside of him. Luna could immediately tell it wasn't slick with anything. Heero's hands were big and his fingers were long – talented, some may have said, but Luna had nothing to compare it to. All he knew was that it wasn't sliding in and out as easily as it had the last time and that he knew another finger would bring discomfort –

Up until the point where his master began to press into his prostate with every thrust of his finger. After that he knew absolutely nothing.

He was right though, the second finger did bring discomfort, but it was partly because his legs weren't spread far enough, and partly because there was no lubrication. But the discomfort was swiftly replaced as Heero touched him, deep inside, as if there was something there that needed to be stroked and worshipped as much as any god.

Heero's mouth latched onto his neck again.

Luna panted, trying to spread his legs further and push himself back at the same time. He would be happier when Heero was on top of him, bearing down on him with his body, pressing him into the desk. Until then, he had to make to with trying to get those fingers to fill him as much as he could.

Heero's third finger brought more discomfort and a stretching pain, but the sensation made him remember the night before again, and despite the pain, he knew what was coming was going to be good.

It didn't hurt that badly. Only a little sting as he was stretched. When his master removed his fingers, Luna had to bite back an unseemly grunt of discomfort.

But his master was behind him again, close now, and Luna knew what was coming. His arousal pressed into the hard oak desk underneath him and he scrambled to get a hold of the sides of the desk.

It was only when Heero pressed against him, one hand firmly on his hip and the other holding himself up on the desk, that Luna realised exactly how much he was enjoying it.

So much so that his headache had gone away.

And then Heero was pushing inside of him, and there was a flash of pain and a grunt of pleasure from Heero, and Luna realized that it was really, really, really good.

The desk was hard and unyielding beneath him. Heero had, as Luna had expected, pressed himself so hard against Luna that he was pinned completely against the wood surface.

Pressing back against Heero at this point would be akin to squirming, there was so little space between them.

The desk was it, Luna realized. Where the bed had gave way and bent to allow Heero to press close to him, the desk did not. It hadn't even budged the whole time. Heero was pressed right up against Luna, and the desk gave no leeway, so they really were as close as they could get.

It was wonderful.

Heero slowly drew out of him and Luna hated it, but then he pressed back inside and he nearly cried. His heart was beating something fierce and he could see black in his vision, it was so black that he could distinguish it from the shadows cast by the candle that was almost out.

Heero drew out again, a little faster, and Luna could hear both of them panting, ultra loud, in his ears. His master thrust back inside, and pressed him into the desk, and hit his prostate, and Luna screamed as he came.

It hit Heero with a bit of a shock as Luna tightened around him, then his entire body went limp on the desk. Heero blinked, holding still inside his slave.

He had done a bit more prostate stroking than necessary while he had prepared him, but he had done it to distract him from the pain. It appeared to have done the job a bit better than he had expected.

Luna slowly seemed to rouse again, and as he did, Heero began moving, slowly, deliberately, so that the boy could feel every little thing and get aroused by it all all over again.

Luna came around very, very quickly, and Heero was forcefully reminded that Luna was young, probably barely into sixteen. The boy had a sexual system in full health, even if the rest of him wasn't, and Heero was rather satisfied with that to be the case.

Luna squirmed against him, but as they were, the beautiful boy could barely move. The only thing that gave any movement was Heero's thrusts, and they slowly got harder and faster as Luna showed all the signs that he enjoyed them.

Somewhere between when it was just getting fast and when it was becoming animalistic, the parchment Luna had been writing on got torn as Luna scrunched his hands in it.

At around that moment, both Heero and Luna became very fond of Heero's desk, as it stood rock solid and unmoving beneath them, serving as a perfect anchor point.

Heero was stuck in the feel of Luna, his body was warm and yielding, his back moulded perfectly to his chest as he thrust into him. The whole situation had veered far out of his control, and he had let it, and all the gentleness he usually had reserved for Luna was gone.

Ever since he had hit the boy, he had been incredibly gentle, forcefully so, and it had taken its toll, as he was not that way by nature. He was not a cruel or harmful person, but he wasn't gentle. By nature he was a forceful and smug person, who liked to grab what he wanted, hold it uncomfortably tightly, and do whatever the hell he wanted with it.

So he grabbed Luna by the hip, holding him just tight enough to bruise but not nearly tight enough that Luna could register the pain through all the other things his body was showing him, and he released the control he had been holding.

From there it was no longer making love or even sex, it was mating. There was something bestial and animalistic about it, like they were wolves. It was two animals racing toward completion, no sentient thoughts involved at all, just the ancient drive all species have.

Find your pack. Stay with your pack. Eat. Sleep. Mate.

Wolves mate for life.

Heero slumped against Luna, spent and blissful, as Luna collapsed, his body spasming lightly as his orgasm trailed off into sleep.

It took Heero a moment to come out of it. His entire body, which had been taut as a bowstring from the moment Luna had fitted that morning, had suddenly relaxed and it was wonderful. As he pulled out and away from Luna, the slave slid back, and Heero had to stop so that Luna wouldn't fall to the floor.

He clumsily pulled his pants back up with one hand, keeping another on Luna, who was out cold.

Apparently his sex drive was healthy, but seeing as that had been sated, his unhealthy body had taken over. Heero carried him into their bedroom, and his urge to be gentle with Luna returned as he placed him tenderly on the bed, then climbed under the covers with him.

Heero knew he had found the only slave he would ever truly keep.

After all, wolves mate for life.

It rained the night Treize Kushrenada was scheduled to arrive. The castle had received information that they were due in the morning, but, as expected with rain, they arrived late that night.

At the time of their arrival, Zechs was, oddly enough, completely out of sight.

Once they entered the drenched courtyard, their horses slipping on the cobblestones they cantered upon, several things became apparent to King Heero.

The first was that Mariemaia did indeed exist.

The second was that she had the reddest hair he had ever seen.

The third was that she was, indeed, very ill.

And the fourth was that it appeared as though all of the wild, ridiculous rumours surrounding Prince Milliardo and his time as a hostage in Chalc were completely true.

There was a rumour that Milliardo had adopted a child in the Kushrenada household as if it were his own. Heero saw with his own eyes how gently Milliardo took the still form of Mariemaia from what he assumed was her father's arms so that he could dismount.

There was another rumour that Milliardo had fallen in love with a nobleman in the Kushrenada household. Heero watched as Treize Kushrenada bent to kiss the forehead of his daughter in Milliardo's arms, and as he did Milliardo bent his head to rest their foreheads together.

Then there was the rumour which was most preposterous – that Milliardo was not being tortured under Chalc's hold.

Milliardo actually looked healthy. He looked healthier than his twin, Zechs. He was leaner, with muscles that suggested he did less heavy lifting and more cardio. He glowed in the rain like some sort of pure, blonde god.

And he was damn good looking, up until the point where he and Treize got closer to the King, and it became apparent that Milliardo was a head taller than him and had to duck his head slightly to get under the roof of the entryway Heero stood in.

He stared up at the hostage Prince and at the Duke that followed.

"Prince Milliardo," he nodded. "Duke Kushrenada," he added, looking at Treize.

Irea stood behind him, visibly pining after the young girl in Milliardo's arms.

Heero nodded in her general direction and she fled forward, her hands immediately on the little girl's forehead.

"Set her down over there, please, Your Majesty," she said to the Prince, who obeyed, following Irea's pointing hands to a small table erected outside. "It's not for long, she can't be kept in the rain," she said worryingly.

As the Prince moved past the King, he could hear small, rasping death gasps from the girl.

She was not well at all.

The Duke bowed deeply to Heero, then, halfway through it, he secondguessed it and sank to one knee, placing his forehead on his raised knee. He looked about to start sobbing.

Irea had, within a matter of seconds, wrapped little Mariemaia's head in a pristine white towel. It went over her face, covering her mouth and nostrils. Milliardo looked offended for a moment, and Irea seemed to sense it. "To keep the germs out. New place, new sicknesses. She's weak enough to catch anything at this point."

With that, Irea carefully picked the girl up herself. "No visitors for at least another half hour. I need to assess her condition. When I'm happy she will survive my absence or someone else's presence, I will get you. Not the other way around." With that, she began to walk away, into the castle, with MarieMaia in her arms.

Prince Milliardo looked as though he wanted to follow, but the Duke was still rooted to the spot on one knee in front of Heero.

"Thankyou," he said softly.

Heero ignored it. "The three of us will move to a minor sitting room, where we will discuss what is to be done with this … fragile … political situation."

"Anything you request, Your Majesty," Treize began. "What if my daughter should call for me?"

"And myself," Prince Milliardo interjected. He was obviously aware of his regained political standing. On King Yuy's land, he was a Prince. He could demand anything he liked. "I will not sit by while my girl is sick and you debate what to do with us. I will be wherever she can easily call for me."

Heero looked him in the eye. "That would be why the three of us will be discussing this outside of my Healer's rooms. Not what any of us are used to, and it reeks of absinthe, but it is conveniently placed."

Prince Milliardo visibly relaxed and Heero could practically see himself rise in the man's esteem.

"Get off your damn knees, Treize," Milliardo said. "You're not on trial here."

That would have been the perfect moment for Zechs Merquise to show up, declare that Treize was in fact on trial, and proceed to make a fuss. But Zechs Merquise was nowhere to be seen. Not one of his Honor Guard were there, nor was Lucrezia Noin.

It was rather off-putting.

Heero grunted and led the two men into the castle, following the same halls that Irea would have rushed through but moments ago, until finally they reached the communal room outside the rooms she had to care for her patients in.

Not all were privileged enough to warrant Irea at their bedside. Most had to come to her and her handmaidens, in the grand suite which she had taken over from King Jarekshi's old healer. He had been angry to be unseated so easily and swiftly, but after the nation's King died under his care, no one rose to his cause.

It was obvious upon entering the room that it was a waiting room of a Healer, from the layout and the furniture, but the mystifying thing about it was that that was the only similarity to the usual waiting room of a Healer.

The smell of absinthe was everywhere, as Heero had warned, but that was the only foul smell. The rooms and chairs were devoid of blood. There were no jars filled with leeches. The entire place was spotlessly clean. Milliardo seemed very doubtful about it the moment he walked in, looking around dubiously, already doubting that a woman so obviously denying the known medical trend could save Mariemaia.

Treize looked like a man on his own deathbed already. If he had any misgivings about Irea, one could not have picked them from his haggard and mournful expression.

Heero had them seated at a table with him. The servants had been told they would be dining here, and were already bringing them wine as they sat down.

No one could hear anything from the rooms adjoining. Heero knew Irea and Mariemaia were in one of them, he was even sure which one, but no sound was coming forth.

"She will tell us when she knows something," Heero began, when the door he knew Irea and Mariemaia were behind was opened harshly.

Irea stalked out, threw open a cabinet, found what she was looking for, took a single glance at the men at the table and stalked back into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. In her gaze, it was obvious that she was just daring anyone to bother her.

"She'll hit you if go in there," Heero said nonchalantly. "Nobility or not."

Milliardo seemed both affronted at the idea and pleased that someone with dedication were caring for Mariemaia.

Still, Zechs was nowhere to be seen.

Heero began to wonder if Zechs had somehow already done the job. Treize looked fairly ill, it was possible he had already been poisoned.

If that were the case, Zechs was one crafty devil indeed.

But Treize was not swaying. He just looked grief-bitten.

"So," Heero began. "The two of you are not at one another's throats, as I would expect of a hostage and his warden. Pray tell."

Treize took a deep breath, as through about to say something, then he looked at Milliardo, who looked back and shrugged. To the onlooker, it was an odd guesture, but Heero knew it for what it was. Treize was holding his input until after the Prince had spoken, showing respect for someone of higher station.

Yet another thing not expected of a hostage and his warden.

"It's as much your tale as it is mine," Milliardo said.

"Princess Dorothy is my second cousin, Your Highness," Treize said. "She called on me some years ago and said she tired of keeping His Majesty in her dungeons." At this Treize made a face, as though the thought disgusted him. "She said to me, in these words, "I have used the stick on him, with no result. Now you must use the carrot.""

Treize heaved a colossal sigh. "I was ordered to take His Majesty from her dungeon and keep him in my home, well cared for but caged, as if he were some kind of pet."

Milliardo grimaced. Neither of the two appeared to enjoy the tale.

Heero didn't much either. It was unravelling mostly as he had suspected it would.

"So I did," Treize continued. "Apart from treating him like a pet. But as time went on it became apparent that the Prince is as resistant to the carrot as he is to the stick."

"Treize was under duress," Milliardo said. "He was constantly barraged from the Catalonia's to get me to do things – mostly to aggravate my father and brother. They wanted to try and marry me to Princess Dorothy – so that Sanc would have no real claim to keep fighting Chalc, because technically, our marriage would have made the two Kingdoms one.

"I feel that it is important that you understand, Dorothy's mother was my aunt. I am more closely related to her than Treize is. That kind of travesty of a marriage would have been completely against everything my home country stands for."

"Though it isn't illegal to wed cousins in Chalc," Treize said, "It is frowned upon and considered disgusting by most. It is not only Sanc that disagrees with it."

It was obvious that Treize was either disgusted by the idea of cousins marrying, or he was disgusted by the idea of Milliardo marrying Dorothy.

Judging by how closely the two sat together, Heero guessed it was more that Treize wanted Milliardo to himself.

Irea opened the door, quietly this time. "Heero," she whispered. "Lady Mariemaia could use one of Lord Barton's pick-me-ups. Do you think you can fix that for me?"

Heero motioned to a servant. "Send for Lord Barton and tell him to bring his Lady," he said softly.

The servant nodded and left as Irea shut the door again.

Treize looked at him, his brow furrowed. "What was that about? Nevermind," he said. "Whatever it means it's got to be better than what we had at home."

"They were bleeding her every second day," Milliardo said. "Bleeding! A child! Can you believe that? She was so pale and dry she couldn't walk or talk. She actually got better during the ride here!"

"For a while," Treize said. "I'm glad we didn't turn back though. It didn't last."

"Irea doesn't believe in bleeding or leeches," Heero said. "She does not agree with most common practices. But her results speak for themselves. She got my sister walking again when no one else could keep her from fainting. If Irea can not help your daughter, no one can."

There was a tense pause, where Prince Milliardo seemed upset at the idea and the Duke just nodded mournfully.

"By the way," Heero added. "I mentioned in the reply I sent that Prince Zechs may be here. He is."

Milliardo looked up. "I assumed you would have kept this from him. I assumed that since he did not ride to greet us that you had already ushered his departure, to avoid … mess."

Heero clenched his jaw. "There would have been more "mess" had I kept secrets. He would have done all he could to make my life miserable once he found out."

Milliardo's brow was furrowed intensely. "Then … why is he not here? My brother has never before not greeted me at the door."

Heero bit his lip. "In honesty I do not know. I had actually expected him to have organized some sort of stunt by now."

There was a tense pause, followed by a knock on the door. It was opened and a servant came inside, bowed deeply and announced the arrival of Lord Barton.

Trowa came inside with a large, fluffy dog at his heels.

"Your Majesties, Duke," he nodded. "Irea wanted Lady?" he questioned to Heero, who nodded.

The dog's ears perked at the mention of her name.

Heero jerked his head in the direction of the room Irea and Mariemaia were in. Trowa dutifully went to the door and bowed to them before going through with the dog.

Treize furrowed his brow. "A dog?" he said stupendously.

Heero chuckled. "It's actually one of Barton's ideas. It works surpisingly well. If you ever want someone to be calm, still and content, there is no drug that will do that as well as a well trained dog."

Milliardo obviously looked doubtful, as if he had just walked in on a gypsy play and asked them to heal Mariemaia.

A few moments later, Trowa opened the door and stepped out.

"Cute kid," he said. "She looks like she just needs sleep, to be honest."

With that, he was about to step out from the room, bowing, but Treize called to him. "Wait!"

Trowa froze mid-bow, then straightened with a performer's flourish of his hand. "I am at your disposal, good sir!" he said, bowing again.

His circus antics were lost on Treize, who was focused on his daughter. "Did she look better?"

Trowa mulled it over in his head for a moment. "I haven't seen her before, but she didn't look that bad. If she were a dog, I wouldn't put her out of her misery yet."

Treize finally reacted, looking affronted. "Don't you dare compare my daughter to a dog!" he hissed madly, standing up from his seat.

Trowa, as per usual, did not see what he had done wrong. "I wasn't," he said.

Treize sat back down with a huff.

Heero let the whole incident pass, well used to Trowa's lack of tact.

Irea ducked out the door. "I heard noises," she warned lowly. "I don't want to be able to hear you lot talking. Get out if you want to be talking above whispers."

Nobody moved. Nobody argued either.

Irea walked toward them and sat in the one empty chair at the table. "No feeling in her legs at all. It may be too late for them. But aside from that, the problem seems solely in her lungs. She's breathing remarkably better now that she's inhaled vapors. They're making her sick but she's a good girl, won't let me take the vapor away.

"Oh and thank you for bringing Lady so quickly, Trowa dear. The young mistress has already hugged her to sleep."

Milliardo took a sip of his wine. "You'll just let her sleep? What if the dog bites her?"

Trowa looked insulted at the idea that his dog could bite.

Irea spoke before he could though. "No reason not to let her sleep. Lady will keep her warm and safe. Furthermore, dogs breathe rather obviously. If the girl stops breathing, as the letters say she has, the breathing of the dog will remind her in her sleep to breathe."

Milliardo obviously sincerely doubted this.

"Done it before," Irea said, expecting his look of disbelief. "It works."

"Furthermore," Trowa said. "Lady will whine and howl like a madman if she stops breathing. Also, Lady has a history of getting upset around people that are incurable. So the fact that she will let the girl cuddle right up to her is a good sign."

Irea nodded. "Stuff her with food. Make her sleep lots. Move the legs and fingers around every three hours. Vapors for the lungs. Confinement to clean rooms. Dog stands watch, keeps her warm. She doesn't need anything for pain-"

"But she is in pain!" Treize said.

Irea shook her head. "She's in discomfort. She's in trauma from the fear of death and from the fact that she can't move her legs. The pain she has is all in the fear and the fact that she can't breathe without pain. The vapors help with that."

Irea mused for a moment. "All in all, she's actually not as bad as I expected. It's possible she'll survive –"

The dog barked. Everyone jumped, even though it was muffled through the door.

Trowa opened the door to check on them. MarieMaia was sleeping, her little chest rising obviously, with no blankets over her, just a soft nightshirt. She was warm from her fever. Lady was licking her on the face, with no reaction.

They all went to the door to look in. Irea didn't think to warn them off, it was such an odd occurrence for Lady to bark that she was still shocked. Lady sat up on the bed, another odd thing – when told to stay, any dog trained by Trowa would stay within an inch of where they were told, in the same position.

Trowa walked in. Lady was moving her front paws anxiously, staring at him, as if begging for guidance.

Irea spotted it first. "Good girl, Lady," she cooed, walking straight toward Mariemaea, who was tossing in her sleep – tiny, little anxious tosses.

Lady whined.

Irea went straight for Mariemaia, holding her still.

Heero went straight for the cabinet inside the room, knowing what was going on, and tossed Irea a satchet of herbs, who stuck them under Mariemaia's nose.

Mariemaie slowly stopped moving.

"Has there been someone watching her while she slept?" Irea asked quietly.

"Me," Treize answered. "The first few nights after we left, she was too feverish to be left alone. After that she wouldn't let me leave her."

"Does she do that twitching all the time?"

"Since she's been sick, yes."

Irea frowned, then turned to the dog again. "Good girl," she cooed.

Trowa didn't seem to understand what was going on, in fact, only Irea really knew what was, but he shrugged and assumed it was good, and thus, the dog needed rewarding.

He walked to Lady and picked her up off the bed – no mean feat because the dog probably weighed as much as he did.

"Good girl," he said, voice full of gruff, pleased emotion that a dog would easily understand. He roughly scratched her back then dumped her back on the bed, showing her an open hand, which she licked sloppily, then promptly lay back down again, in the exact same position she had previously been instructed to stay in.

Mariemaia had woken again, but the resettling of the dog on her bed made her close her eyes. "Can Papa stay?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Irea said, surprising everyone. "Go back to sleep, little one." Irea turned to Treize, saying in a hushed tone, "If she's having fits in her sleep, someone has to stay with her. She was saying some weird things earlier, I think now she might be a bit delirious. Has she been drinking?"

Treize nodded. "I've enforced that. But I haven't been able to stop her from hurling it back up."

Irea nodded. "Dehydration can cause some pretty fancy deLíriums. She's probably seeing tentacle hands in her sleep."

Heero snorted. Irea smirked.

"These," she rattled the pouch of herbs in front of Treize, "are a light sedative. Most healers don't use these. I do. Stick them under her nose if she so much as twitches. She can have one sniff an hour. Any more and she's likely to lose cognitive ability forever. Don't overdo it."

Treize took the pouch from her.

"And for God's sake, don't smell it."

Treize went to the bed and sat beside it, putting the herbs on the bedside table. Lady didn't move an inch.

Irea pushed Heero and Milliardo out of the room. Trowa stayed, moving toward Treize.

Technically, the two were the same rank, just from different kingdoms. The identity of "Lord Barton" was that of an advisory Lord, Duke of a western province of Karen Miya.

Treize had more land, and the Kingdom he served was larger, but Trowa held an advisor position to the King. He was not only a Duke, but a Lord of the Court, which put him on a similar level. Higher, even, because this was his home ground.

"Give me your hand," Trowa said, kneeling beside the girl and dog.

Numbly, Treize held out his palm. Treize guided it under Lady's nose, who sniffed it, licked it a few times, then left to rest her head on Mariemaia's arm.

"She needs to know your smell if you'll be here. If she moves, grab her and put her back. She'll get the message." Trowa eyed Treize over, obviously trying to decide whether this man could be trusted with one of his precious dogs.

Eventually he sighed and gave up. If he tried anything, Lady would just maul him.

She was trained, not placid.

When Zechs Merquise finally made his grand entrance, it was most surprising, and not for the expected reasons.

When Zechs finally did show up, his face was as white as his hair, and his bottom lip was actually split. Despite this, his teeth were still clamped down on it.

He strode straight to Heero, completely blind to Milliardo, who sat beside him.

"You!" he seethed, actually having the gall to grab Heero by the collar as he stood up. "You and your lax security!"

"What are you talking about?" Heero seethed, grabbing him by the wrists and forcing his hands from his clothing.

"First last night," Zechs roiled, "and now this!"

He tossed an object onto the floor at Heero's feet.

At first, the King didn't know what to make of it, as it was crushed quite badly, having been in Zechs' shaking, bloody fist this whole time.

As he realised that Zech's hand was bloody, it clicked what the object was.

It had thorns.