GW Fic: Shadow Word: Pain 1/1 (repost)
TITLE: Shadow Word: Pain
FANDOM: Gundam Wing (characters), World of Warcraft (environment)
CATEGORY: AU, adventure
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: shounen-ai, Quatre whumping
PAIRINGS: 3+4
DISCLAIMER: GW characters and WoW environment do not belong to me. No monetary profit gained through this venture - just an ample amount of self-satisfaction and self-indulgence.
NOTES: This was for darthanne and misanagi. It was a contributing fic to the Whumped!Quatre ficathon that they hosted in 2005. I'm reposting because I actually found a completed sequel, Ambushed!, among my awips!
Many, many thanks to haraamis for being my beta reader.
SYNOPSIS: A betrayal most foul! Sent into the enemy's lands to safeguard his beloved nation, Quatre was instead faced with treachery that could cost him his life.
~*~
The northern regions of Azeroth had once been verdant plains. That was before the Burning Legions swept through it, destroying all life. Now the denizen of Azeroth refers to it as the Plaguelands, and there is no better name.
Home to the remaining forces of the Undead Scourge, the Plaguelands were a place of decay and desolation. While the Scourge had been confined to this region, the threat they posed to the mortal races hovered ominously at the edge of the Plaguelands.
Border skirmishes from time to time were keeping the Argent Dawn occupied, and it was one of these skirmishes that had resulted in Quatre's latest assignment. He was to lead a small group of elite Argent Dawn knights to quell the impending invasion of the Scourge into Alterac Mountains.
The battle was swift and brutal, though it was not nearly as brutal as the betrayal that Quatre faced. Among the warriors he believed to be loyal to the Argent Dawn was a traitor that had brought the party to its knees. Quatre fought with all his will and magic, but he was nonetheless defeated.
When Quatre woke, his ears were still ringing from the last sonic blast that had rendered him powerless and unconscious. He also realised that he had been chained and caged. Silently, he surveyed his surrounding, attempting to discern what had transpired since he was taken.
He was alone in a dark circular chamber, dimly lit magical runes carved into the walls. Quatre could not read the runes, but they inspired a sense of foreboding in him. For one, he could not summon the magic to free himself, so he surmised that they were binding his powers. In addition, he knew enough ancient lore to recognise that these were of the old language, once used by the former kingdom of Lordaeron, a language that had paved the way for the Burning Legion into the mortal world.
The door to the chamber swung open, then voices spoke in the harsh guttural words of Gutterspeak - the language of the Undead Forsaken. So it was the Horde that had orchestrated the ambush, not the Scourge. The Forsaken had simply posed as the Scourge to lure him there. It was also a great diversion. When Quatre did not return triumphant, the Argent Dawn would assume that the Scourge had taken him and take appropriate action upon them.
Question was why? What would the Horde have of him?
The runes brightened, only a little, but enough for Quatre to see two heavily robed and hooded figures approach. He stood, refusing to show any form of weakness or subservience to his captors.
"You are awake," a heavily accented voice spoke in Common. It was female.
Quatre said nothing in reply. Silence fell in the room, and he distinctly felt a sinister smile form on the lips of the one who had spoken even though he could not see her face.
"Welcome, Quatre of Stormwind, Knight-Champion of the Alliance, elite officer of the Argent Dawn," she continued. "Impressive titles and achievements, to be sure. You must've done much for your people, killed many of our faction and kept the Scourge at bay."
"So you've taken me for revenge?" Quatre spat out.
"No." He could feel that smile again. She circled his cage ponderously before speaking again. "No, you were brought to us because we have a far greater use for you. Although that does not mean that some of my people do not wish to exact a fitting retribution upon you."
"I won't help you."
She laughed; it was cold and mirthless. "I neither ask nor require your help. You are but a tool, and I will use you as I see fit. However, we will see to that later. Now let's see to that retribution."
She lifted her withered hand and uttered a single word. A dark burst of black and purple leapt from her hand and struck Quatre in the chest. Quatre was no stranger to the pain that she had inflicted on him. He recognised the Shadow Priest spell - Shadow Word: Pain. As a soldier of the Alliance, he had been on the receiving end of this spell several times in battle.
Quatre gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out. He would not give her the satisfaction.
The pain abated, and Quatre was left slightly breathless.
"You have fortitude, Knight-Champion," she drawled. "Good, I like a man who can go the distance."
The second bolt that struck Quatre was stronger, more painful, and Quatre felt his knees buckle. The Undead Priestess released bolt after bolt of Pain, each increasing in intensity, but Quatre would not cry out, even when he was sprawled on the cold cage floor. When he was certain that his mortal body could take no more, the other figure, which had yet to speak at length, would utter a different word and renew Quatre's tortured body, only enough to keep him from death.
Then the cycle of pain would begin again.
~*~
Chillwind Point in Alterac Mountains was home to a few Argent Dawn officers. Tucked away in a safe niche in the mountains by the border of the Plaguelands, they had established a small encampment fully equipped with a gryphon master, a blacksmith and an adequate stock of supplies. This proved to be an invaluable camp for soldiers moving on into the Plaguelands to fight the Scourge.
It was usually a quiet camp, despite being so close to the enemy, but not that day when a group of four soldiers rode into camp. Even if they did not wear their formal tabards, it was evident that they were soldiers of authority and prowess.
They only stopped for provisions. They did not linger once they had what they had come for and promptly continued their way north into the Plaguelands. Once they had passed Anderhol Ruins they turned west, heading to the Bulwark, the gateway into Tirisfal Glades.
"I hate this place," Duo groused as he swept his gaze around the wasteland.
"Why then are you an officer for Argent Dawn?" Wu Fei asked.
"Glory, fame and fortune, what else?" Duo replied with a mocking laugh.
Wu Fei sighed. "I should've known. A Rogue like you could only be so mercenary."
"And yet you would have me as your second in command." Duo grinned impishly.
"Quiet," Heero whispered. "Patrol coming."
The quartet immediately sprang into action. They dismounted and the horses were led away from the road. Without so much as a whisper, Duo and Trowa shifted into stealth and stalked towards the Horde patrol. There were only two in the patrol; they were dispatched by both Rogues with little fuss. The quartet moved on quickly once the bodies were hidden. They knew that if the patrol did not return to the Bulwark soon enough their presence would be discovered.
Once they had crossed the border to Tirisfal Glades, they turned south and rode with speed towards the Ruins of Lordaeron.
~*~
He had lost all sense of time and space. The only thing that he knew of with any certainty was the pain that wrecked his body and the brief moment of relief that came with the healing, tainted as it was. Even as he craved that relief, Quatre knew that the pain would begin again.
The Priestess had not said anymore of what the Forsaken had wanted of him, nor did she do anything more than inflict pain on him using her many varied Shadow spells. After the fifth day, Quatre did not care any longer. He knew that sooner rather than later, death or insanity would claim him, and then it would not matter any longer.
His only regret was not seeing his friends again. The thoughts of his stalwart companions were the only things that had sustained him for many long days of torment. With each spell that tore through his being, he would call upon his memory of them. He would enforce his own failing resolve with their strengths - Wu Fei's fortitude, Heero's tenacity, Duo's steadfastness and Trowa's devotion.
His thoughts were constantly with them, so much so that he was certain the pain and the torture had finally given way to hallucination. The imposing doors of his chambers opened again, and he saw one of them approach through his haze filled vision. Even if it was nothing more than an apparition, it still brought a smile to his lips.
"Quatre?"
The apparition even spoke! And it was a voice he had longed to hear, Trowa's voice.
"Quatre, it's going to be alright now. I promise."
Of course it was, Quatre thought. His friends were with him, albeit they were nothing more than images of his mind.
The cage door swung open, and Trowa was by his side in a flash. Trowa reached out to touch him, and Quatre flinched at the feeling of warmth from Trowa's hand. Quatre had been so cold; the Undead, devoid of sensation, had neglected to warm the chamber.
Trowa said in a reassuring voice, "I'm not going to hurt you, Quatre, but we must get out of here now. I'm just going to pick the locks on your manacles."
"You're real…" he whispered, feeling the warmth of Trowa's hands again when he reached for the manacles around his hands.
"Yes, I'm real," Trowa replied. "We're all here, Quatre, and we're going to take you home."
Within moments, Quatre was freed from his bonds. Trowa hurriedly threw his cloak around Quatre's shoulders and helped him up. They rushed out of the accursed chamber.
Quatre could hardly stand when Trowa led him towards the others. They had been keeping the forces of the Forsaken at bay while Trowa freed him. Once they were united, Wu Fei laid his hand upon Quatre's shoulder and immediately a rush of Holy Light engulfed him, banishing the taint of the Forsaken from him. Quatre felt a measure of his strength return, as well as his affinity to the magic. Quatre smiled his gratitude at their resident Paladin.
They exchanged no more words as the quintet fought their way out of the foul hallways of the Ruins. Though weakened from his long exposure to undead magic, Quatre nevertheless stood staunchly by his companions, felling Forsaken with his formidable arcane magic as best as he could.
They were but a few yards from freedom when they came upon a barricade by the doors. Their presence had been alerted, and the Forsaken had come in force to stop them.
"I think we're outnumbered," Duo said as he let loose another one of his Silver Stars at an approaching Forsaken guard.
"No? Really?" Heero replied sarcastically, his gaze never leaving his target. An arrow sliced through the fetid air and fell another guard.
"I'll open a portal back to Stormwind," Quatre whispered hoarsely.
"No! You're wounded; it's takes too much to cast such a spell!" Trowa protested.
"And what would you have me do? Condemn you all to your death in this godforsaken hole? If I should die saving my friends then it would be a worthy death. It is better than dying in that accursed cage. You know it's the only way."
"Must you be so melodramatic?" Duo asked. "No one is going to die here. You're stronger than that, Quatre. I have faith in you."
Quatre smiled at Duo, then looked confidently at Trowa and whispered, "Trust me." Without further delay, Quatre concentrated and drew upon the boundless power of the magic. His hands glowed blue as a portal shimmered into existence, and the familiar visage of his beloved city came into being. One by one, his comrades dove through the portal before Quatre followed himself.
He stumbled when he emerged in Stormwind. Strong hands kept him from hitting the ground.
He sighed in relief then whispered, "Home," before darkness engulfed him.
~*~
When Quatre awoke again, he felt warm for the first time in days. Or was it weeks? He didn't know. He recognised the pungent scent of cedar wood burning and felt comfortable in the soft satin that embraced him. For a moment, Quatre was certain he was either dreaming or dead; in a few moments, the cycle of pain would begin anew, and he would have to fight off the shadow that threatened to overwhelm him.
A hand reached out to touch him, and Quatre instinctively flinched.
"You're safe now, Quatre," a familiar voice said with reassurance.
Quatre opened his eyes, not daring to believe the voice he had heard.
"You're real…"
Trowa chuckled, sweeping blond locks out of Quatre's eyes. "Yes, I am. You're not dreaming; we came for you and you saved us all. Do you not remember?"
"I do, but I wasn't sure if it was real."
"It's real. I'm so glad you're okay and that you are awake," Trowa said with evident relief. He then reached for a goblet sitting on the bedside table and brought it to Quatre's lips.
Quatre drank greedily before smiling back, somewhat ruefully. "You came for me, you and the others. It was dangerous. You shouldn't have."
"And you would not do the same for us?" Trowa scoffed. "As always you are selfishly thinking that only you can be the hero. I have lost count the number of times you've put your life on the line for us, for me. Why can't I do the same for you?"
"I couldn't bear it if you were hurt because of me."
"Likewise," Trowa replied resolutely, threading his fingers through Quatre's. "Enough. You always argue about this, and you know I'll not stand by and let the Horde have you anymore than you would let them have me."
A content smile curled Quatre's lips. "As always, you insist on being my knight in shining armour."
"Not likely, plate makes it hard to stealth." Trowa returned his smile impishly. "Let Wu Fei be your knight, he carries off the clanging chest piece far better than I could."
Quatre chuckled. "And you will be the scoundrel who would taint my virtue?"
"But of course." Trowa grinned then leaned over to place a tender kiss upon Quatre's lips. "God, I have missed you. I was so worried. We feared the worst."
"I am sorry to have caused you concern." Quatre touched Trowa's cheek gently, savouring the comforting warmth of living flesh. "How did you know where to find me?"
"Duo and his shady connections. For once, I do not begrudge him for frequenting those deplorable taverns and whorehouses. When you had not sent word for four days, the Marshal began to grow concerned. It shouldn't have taken you that long to quell the small skirmish at the Ruins of Anderhol."
"We did not make it to the ruins at all. We were ambushed at Sorrow Hill. I am right in thinking no one but I survived?" Quatre asked quietly.
"You must not blame yourself." Trowa slid into the bed and threw his arms around Quatre.
"No, I blame the traitor amongst our ranks. We must find him and bestow fitting retribution upon him," Quatre said savagely.
"We will," Trowa replied resolutely.
Quatre then shut his eyes, trying his best to clear his mind of the savage battle that had killed his entire party. "They were good men, Trowa, honourable, loyal and peerless. The Forsaken came in force. They came with infernals and succubi. If only - "
"Hush," Trowa interrupted. "No 'if only', you could not have known."
"They were specifically after me, Trowa."
"What do you mean?"
"The Priestess knew me by name, and she spoke Common. That is the only reason why I lived. The Forsaken wanted something from me."
"What did they want?"
"She did not say."
Trowa was silent for a moment. "Rest now. Do not concern yourself with it. We will come to know the reason behind your capture, and we will thwart whatever plans they have devised." He placed another kiss on Quatre's temple before rising from the bed.
"Stay with me." Quatre held fast to Trowa's hand. "I could use the company."
"Of course." Trowa nodded with a reassuring smile. He slipped under the blankets and held Quatre close, then whispered. "You're safe now."
Snuggled securely in a warm embrace, Quatre believed him. Quatre shut his eyes and savoured the solace and security that Trowa offered. While he could still feel the remnants of the darkness gnawing away at his soul, he was certain that he would, in time, heal the scars his battered soul had received as long as he was not alone.
Whatever trials might come his way in the future, he would confront them head on, fortified by the strength of his friends, just as they had seen him through the torment of the Ruins of Lordaeron. Of that, he could be certain.
~Fin~
On to the sequel: Ambushed!
FANDOM: Gundam Wing (characters), World of Warcraft (environment)
CATEGORY: AU, adventure
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: shounen-ai, Quatre whumping
PAIRINGS: 3+4
DISCLAIMER: GW characters and WoW environment do not belong to me. No monetary profit gained through this venture - just an ample amount of self-satisfaction and self-indulgence.
NOTES: This was for darthanne and misanagi. It was a contributing fic to the Whumped!Quatre ficathon that they hosted in 2005. I'm reposting because I actually found a completed sequel, Ambushed!, among my awips!
Many, many thanks to haraamis for being my beta reader.
SYNOPSIS: A betrayal most foul! Sent into the enemy's lands to safeguard his beloved nation, Quatre was instead faced with treachery that could cost him his life.
~*~
The northern regions of Azeroth had once been verdant plains. That was before the Burning Legions swept through it, destroying all life. Now the denizen of Azeroth refers to it as the Plaguelands, and there is no better name.
Home to the remaining forces of the Undead Scourge, the Plaguelands were a place of decay and desolation. While the Scourge had been confined to this region, the threat they posed to the mortal races hovered ominously at the edge of the Plaguelands.
Border skirmishes from time to time were keeping the Argent Dawn occupied, and it was one of these skirmishes that had resulted in Quatre's latest assignment. He was to lead a small group of elite Argent Dawn knights to quell the impending invasion of the Scourge into Alterac Mountains.
The battle was swift and brutal, though it was not nearly as brutal as the betrayal that Quatre faced. Among the warriors he believed to be loyal to the Argent Dawn was a traitor that had brought the party to its knees. Quatre fought with all his will and magic, but he was nonetheless defeated.
When Quatre woke, his ears were still ringing from the last sonic blast that had rendered him powerless and unconscious. He also realised that he had been chained and caged. Silently, he surveyed his surrounding, attempting to discern what had transpired since he was taken.
He was alone in a dark circular chamber, dimly lit magical runes carved into the walls. Quatre could not read the runes, but they inspired a sense of foreboding in him. For one, he could not summon the magic to free himself, so he surmised that they were binding his powers. In addition, he knew enough ancient lore to recognise that these were of the old language, once used by the former kingdom of Lordaeron, a language that had paved the way for the Burning Legion into the mortal world.
The door to the chamber swung open, then voices spoke in the harsh guttural words of Gutterspeak - the language of the Undead Forsaken. So it was the Horde that had orchestrated the ambush, not the Scourge. The Forsaken had simply posed as the Scourge to lure him there. It was also a great diversion. When Quatre did not return triumphant, the Argent Dawn would assume that the Scourge had taken him and take appropriate action upon them.
Question was why? What would the Horde have of him?
The runes brightened, only a little, but enough for Quatre to see two heavily robed and hooded figures approach. He stood, refusing to show any form of weakness or subservience to his captors.
"You are awake," a heavily accented voice spoke in Common. It was female.
Quatre said nothing in reply. Silence fell in the room, and he distinctly felt a sinister smile form on the lips of the one who had spoken even though he could not see her face.
"Welcome, Quatre of Stormwind, Knight-Champion of the Alliance, elite officer of the Argent Dawn," she continued. "Impressive titles and achievements, to be sure. You must've done much for your people, killed many of our faction and kept the Scourge at bay."
"So you've taken me for revenge?" Quatre spat out.
"No." He could feel that smile again. She circled his cage ponderously before speaking again. "No, you were brought to us because we have a far greater use for you. Although that does not mean that some of my people do not wish to exact a fitting retribution upon you."
"I won't help you."
She laughed; it was cold and mirthless. "I neither ask nor require your help. You are but a tool, and I will use you as I see fit. However, we will see to that later. Now let's see to that retribution."
She lifted her withered hand and uttered a single word. A dark burst of black and purple leapt from her hand and struck Quatre in the chest. Quatre was no stranger to the pain that she had inflicted on him. He recognised the Shadow Priest spell - Shadow Word: Pain. As a soldier of the Alliance, he had been on the receiving end of this spell several times in battle.
Quatre gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out. He would not give her the satisfaction.
The pain abated, and Quatre was left slightly breathless.
"You have fortitude, Knight-Champion," she drawled. "Good, I like a man who can go the distance."
The second bolt that struck Quatre was stronger, more painful, and Quatre felt his knees buckle. The Undead Priestess released bolt after bolt of Pain, each increasing in intensity, but Quatre would not cry out, even when he was sprawled on the cold cage floor. When he was certain that his mortal body could take no more, the other figure, which had yet to speak at length, would utter a different word and renew Quatre's tortured body, only enough to keep him from death.
Then the cycle of pain would begin again.
~*~
Chillwind Point in Alterac Mountains was home to a few Argent Dawn officers. Tucked away in a safe niche in the mountains by the border of the Plaguelands, they had established a small encampment fully equipped with a gryphon master, a blacksmith and an adequate stock of supplies. This proved to be an invaluable camp for soldiers moving on into the Plaguelands to fight the Scourge.
It was usually a quiet camp, despite being so close to the enemy, but not that day when a group of four soldiers rode into camp. Even if they did not wear their formal tabards, it was evident that they were soldiers of authority and prowess.
They only stopped for provisions. They did not linger once they had what they had come for and promptly continued their way north into the Plaguelands. Once they had passed Anderhol Ruins they turned west, heading to the Bulwark, the gateway into Tirisfal Glades.
"I hate this place," Duo groused as he swept his gaze around the wasteland.
"Why then are you an officer for Argent Dawn?" Wu Fei asked.
"Glory, fame and fortune, what else?" Duo replied with a mocking laugh.
Wu Fei sighed. "I should've known. A Rogue like you could only be so mercenary."
"And yet you would have me as your second in command." Duo grinned impishly.
"Quiet," Heero whispered. "Patrol coming."
The quartet immediately sprang into action. They dismounted and the horses were led away from the road. Without so much as a whisper, Duo and Trowa shifted into stealth and stalked towards the Horde patrol. There were only two in the patrol; they were dispatched by both Rogues with little fuss. The quartet moved on quickly once the bodies were hidden. They knew that if the patrol did not return to the Bulwark soon enough their presence would be discovered.
Once they had crossed the border to Tirisfal Glades, they turned south and rode with speed towards the Ruins of Lordaeron.
~*~
He had lost all sense of time and space. The only thing that he knew of with any certainty was the pain that wrecked his body and the brief moment of relief that came with the healing, tainted as it was. Even as he craved that relief, Quatre knew that the pain would begin again.
The Priestess had not said anymore of what the Forsaken had wanted of him, nor did she do anything more than inflict pain on him using her many varied Shadow spells. After the fifth day, Quatre did not care any longer. He knew that sooner rather than later, death or insanity would claim him, and then it would not matter any longer.
His only regret was not seeing his friends again. The thoughts of his stalwart companions were the only things that had sustained him for many long days of torment. With each spell that tore through his being, he would call upon his memory of them. He would enforce his own failing resolve with their strengths - Wu Fei's fortitude, Heero's tenacity, Duo's steadfastness and Trowa's devotion.
His thoughts were constantly with them, so much so that he was certain the pain and the torture had finally given way to hallucination. The imposing doors of his chambers opened again, and he saw one of them approach through his haze filled vision. Even if it was nothing more than an apparition, it still brought a smile to his lips.
"Quatre?"
The apparition even spoke! And it was a voice he had longed to hear, Trowa's voice.
"Quatre, it's going to be alright now. I promise."
Of course it was, Quatre thought. His friends were with him, albeit they were nothing more than images of his mind.
The cage door swung open, and Trowa was by his side in a flash. Trowa reached out to touch him, and Quatre flinched at the feeling of warmth from Trowa's hand. Quatre had been so cold; the Undead, devoid of sensation, had neglected to warm the chamber.
Trowa said in a reassuring voice, "I'm not going to hurt you, Quatre, but we must get out of here now. I'm just going to pick the locks on your manacles."
"You're real…" he whispered, feeling the warmth of Trowa's hands again when he reached for the manacles around his hands.
"Yes, I'm real," Trowa replied. "We're all here, Quatre, and we're going to take you home."
Within moments, Quatre was freed from his bonds. Trowa hurriedly threw his cloak around Quatre's shoulders and helped him up. They rushed out of the accursed chamber.
Quatre could hardly stand when Trowa led him towards the others. They had been keeping the forces of the Forsaken at bay while Trowa freed him. Once they were united, Wu Fei laid his hand upon Quatre's shoulder and immediately a rush of Holy Light engulfed him, banishing the taint of the Forsaken from him. Quatre felt a measure of his strength return, as well as his affinity to the magic. Quatre smiled his gratitude at their resident Paladin.
They exchanged no more words as the quintet fought their way out of the foul hallways of the Ruins. Though weakened from his long exposure to undead magic, Quatre nevertheless stood staunchly by his companions, felling Forsaken with his formidable arcane magic as best as he could.
They were but a few yards from freedom when they came upon a barricade by the doors. Their presence had been alerted, and the Forsaken had come in force to stop them.
"I think we're outnumbered," Duo said as he let loose another one of his Silver Stars at an approaching Forsaken guard.
"No? Really?" Heero replied sarcastically, his gaze never leaving his target. An arrow sliced through the fetid air and fell another guard.
"I'll open a portal back to Stormwind," Quatre whispered hoarsely.
"No! You're wounded; it's takes too much to cast such a spell!" Trowa protested.
"And what would you have me do? Condemn you all to your death in this godforsaken hole? If I should die saving my friends then it would be a worthy death. It is better than dying in that accursed cage. You know it's the only way."
"Must you be so melodramatic?" Duo asked. "No one is going to die here. You're stronger than that, Quatre. I have faith in you."
Quatre smiled at Duo, then looked confidently at Trowa and whispered, "Trust me." Without further delay, Quatre concentrated and drew upon the boundless power of the magic. His hands glowed blue as a portal shimmered into existence, and the familiar visage of his beloved city came into being. One by one, his comrades dove through the portal before Quatre followed himself.
He stumbled when he emerged in Stormwind. Strong hands kept him from hitting the ground.
He sighed in relief then whispered, "Home," before darkness engulfed him.
~*~
When Quatre awoke again, he felt warm for the first time in days. Or was it weeks? He didn't know. He recognised the pungent scent of cedar wood burning and felt comfortable in the soft satin that embraced him. For a moment, Quatre was certain he was either dreaming or dead; in a few moments, the cycle of pain would begin anew, and he would have to fight off the shadow that threatened to overwhelm him.
A hand reached out to touch him, and Quatre instinctively flinched.
"You're safe now, Quatre," a familiar voice said with reassurance.
Quatre opened his eyes, not daring to believe the voice he had heard.
"You're real…"
Trowa chuckled, sweeping blond locks out of Quatre's eyes. "Yes, I am. You're not dreaming; we came for you and you saved us all. Do you not remember?"
"I do, but I wasn't sure if it was real."
"It's real. I'm so glad you're okay and that you are awake," Trowa said with evident relief. He then reached for a goblet sitting on the bedside table and brought it to Quatre's lips.
Quatre drank greedily before smiling back, somewhat ruefully. "You came for me, you and the others. It was dangerous. You shouldn't have."
"And you would not do the same for us?" Trowa scoffed. "As always you are selfishly thinking that only you can be the hero. I have lost count the number of times you've put your life on the line for us, for me. Why can't I do the same for you?"
"I couldn't bear it if you were hurt because of me."
"Likewise," Trowa replied resolutely, threading his fingers through Quatre's. "Enough. You always argue about this, and you know I'll not stand by and let the Horde have you anymore than you would let them have me."
A content smile curled Quatre's lips. "As always, you insist on being my knight in shining armour."
"Not likely, plate makes it hard to stealth." Trowa returned his smile impishly. "Let Wu Fei be your knight, he carries off the clanging chest piece far better than I could."
Quatre chuckled. "And you will be the scoundrel who would taint my virtue?"
"But of course." Trowa grinned then leaned over to place a tender kiss upon Quatre's lips. "God, I have missed you. I was so worried. We feared the worst."
"I am sorry to have caused you concern." Quatre touched Trowa's cheek gently, savouring the comforting warmth of living flesh. "How did you know where to find me?"
"Duo and his shady connections. For once, I do not begrudge him for frequenting those deplorable taverns and whorehouses. When you had not sent word for four days, the Marshal began to grow concerned. It shouldn't have taken you that long to quell the small skirmish at the Ruins of Anderhol."
"We did not make it to the ruins at all. We were ambushed at Sorrow Hill. I am right in thinking no one but I survived?" Quatre asked quietly.
"You must not blame yourself." Trowa slid into the bed and threw his arms around Quatre.
"No, I blame the traitor amongst our ranks. We must find him and bestow fitting retribution upon him," Quatre said savagely.
"We will," Trowa replied resolutely.
Quatre then shut his eyes, trying his best to clear his mind of the savage battle that had killed his entire party. "They were good men, Trowa, honourable, loyal and peerless. The Forsaken came in force. They came with infernals and succubi. If only - "
"Hush," Trowa interrupted. "No 'if only', you could not have known."
"They were specifically after me, Trowa."
"What do you mean?"
"The Priestess knew me by name, and she spoke Common. That is the only reason why I lived. The Forsaken wanted something from me."
"What did they want?"
"She did not say."
Trowa was silent for a moment. "Rest now. Do not concern yourself with it. We will come to know the reason behind your capture, and we will thwart whatever plans they have devised." He placed another kiss on Quatre's temple before rising from the bed.
"Stay with me." Quatre held fast to Trowa's hand. "I could use the company."
"Of course." Trowa nodded with a reassuring smile. He slipped under the blankets and held Quatre close, then whispered. "You're safe now."
Snuggled securely in a warm embrace, Quatre believed him. Quatre shut his eyes and savoured the solace and security that Trowa offered. While he could still feel the remnants of the darkness gnawing away at his soul, he was certain that he would, in time, heal the scars his battered soul had received as long as he was not alone.
Whatever trials might come his way in the future, he would confront them head on, fortified by the strength of his friends, just as they had seen him through the torment of the Ruins of Lordaeron. Of that, he could be certain.
~Fin~
On to the sequel: Ambushed!