Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Early Saturday morning, July 18, 1801, the Serenity Inn
It was still dark out when Quatre awoke, but the stars were dimmer and beginning to fade, and the black of the night was becoming a deep navy. The boy blinked and sat up, a sharp ache reminding him of earlier activities. Quatre winced but smiled slightly; when this business with his father was over he'd have to take Trowa with him to Oxford.
The blonde stretched, looking around for the young man in question, but found no sign of him, save for the wild trail of matted down grass that they'd created together. Other than that, he was no where to be found. Quatre shrugged; he could've had a million reasons why he needed to go indoors. Still, Quatre felt a bit miffed at not being woken up.
Quatre shivered slightly, the air was still cool enough from the night hours. He snatched his discarded clothes from the lawn and quickly dressed, taking a moment to dislodge grass, leaves, and other forms of small debris from his hair and comb it down as best he could. When he was satisfied, he stood up (albeit slowly) and headed for the inn.
The inn lobby was just as quiet as Quatre had left it hours before, but he had grown used to the silence by now. He quickly ascended the stairs and to his room, where he promptly changed his outfit for a fresh one, taking care to comb out his hair and wash his face and hands. With that, he was ready to join that of the world of reality again, trying his best to put all thoughts of Trowa aside (which was excruciatingly difficult).
Although his few moments with Trowa were the best of his young life, Quatre had more important matters to attend to at the moment. Such as finding Miss Catalonia and inquiring about his coach. Trowa was second to business at the moment, but when his responsibility to his father was over, Trowa would move into the spotlight. Quatre however, felt like delaying such information to the quiet boy. He wasn't sure why, Trowa wouldn't get mad, would he? After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
As Quatre descended the stairs to the lobby, he pondered a new train of thought; his inheritance. Which really wasn't much. His father had promised him enough money for his college education, but any other capital would have to come from a job, which unfortunately Quatre didn't have. Whatever of the family fortune was to be divided up among his married sisters, the unwed ones worse off than him, receiving nothing of the Winner riches. All and all, the fortune was to be distributed among six of his sisters and their husbands.
It wasn't the money that upset Quatre, it was the thought that his father disapproved of him so mush that he went to the length of cutting him out of the will, thus severing what ties he might have left of the family. Still, why did he want to even see him if he wasn't going to receive any money? This question had perplexed Quatre his entire journey, and he was anxious to find out what it was left his father wanted from him.
Quatre's foot hit the soft carpet of the lobby, the soft footfall leaving a resounding echo in the nearly empty room. Miss Catalonia and her cohorts it would seem, were no where to be found. And what about Trowa-
-suddenly, with the sickening sound of a heavy object hitting his skull, Quatre's world began to fade away, the last image he saw before the darkness overcame him was that of Dorothy, a crooked smile playing up on her features.
Conscious returned slowly to the boy, and very painfully, the dull ache he felt earlier was accented by a heavier, more painful throbbing in his skull. Quatre groaned, struggling to bring a hand up to his head when he realized that both his hand were tied securely above his head.
Oh, no, the boy thought, Not another one of Miss Dorothy's bedroom games. I don't think I can survive another.
His eyes snapped open, and immediately he was aware he was in the dungeon-like basement, six figures dressed in long black cloaks standing before him, the flames of the torches flickered wildly behind them. One by one, there faces were revealed, Catalonia, her friends- and Trowa.
Quatre went pallid at the site, his large blue eyes wide and frightened. He searched the tall boy's face, but Trowa refused to meet his stare. He gazed down at the floor, his face devoid of emotion. But his eyes were stormy with a tempest of emotions.
Dorothy was the first to step forward, a serpentine smile high on her aristocratic featured, the clock hugging her figure tightly as she stepped up to meet the petite blonde. She stared at him for a moment before speaking, letting her eyes roam up and down his person without shame, sending a shiver through the boy.
"Lord winner," she began, sardonically spitting the name out. She licked her lips and ran a delicate finger across his cheek before continuing. "You're going to die, you know."
Boy did that sound familiar. Hadn't Duo told him the same exact thing earlier in the day? Why him? He was just a boy on the way to his father's side, simply a passer-by in the town. Is this why those who mentioned Serenity seemed so miserable? Was it because of Dorothy's little cult? How many had ventured here before, only to get tangled in her web? And what of Trowa-
"Oh yes," Dorothy was saying, removing her hands from the boy as she began to pace in front of him. "But don't worry. Your death shall mean something far more important. A sacrifice for the wholly good."
If Quatre still felt capable of moving a muscle in his body, he would have choked. A.... a sacrifice?? Was Dorothy's cult some kind of Devil-Worshiping faction? Trowa....
"With your death, the beast of legend will be able to make its journey to our world. It will use your strength to fracture the membrane that separates our world from that of the Stygian." The girl paused, running her hand over a book marked with symbols and pictures Quatre could not make out. She let out a bitter laugh, and turned to him once again. "You don't know how many we went through before you. We needed someone strong."
How many? How many victims? Trowa..... how could you? Trowa...... please look at me, lie to me, tell me it's not true!
But Trowa would not look up. He stare fixedly at the floor, not even acknowledging Quatre presence. Suddenly, the blond got a thought, and awful thought. What if what happened between them earlier meant more to him than it did to Trowa? But no..... Trowa had told him that he had loved him. Was he just some kind of conquest? Trowa.....
"We needed seven, you see," Dorothy continued, oblivious to everything else around her but the blonde. She was picked up a dagger from the table and was absent mindedly twirling it around, her delicate wrists moving smoothly. "One to control an harness the energy of the beast, five as supports, and one to guide it through the nexus." She suddenly stopped before the boy, her wrists ceasing movement as her arms hung at her sides. "So now, time to jump off this mortal coil. Don't feel bad, it could have been anyone of us, really...."
Then a lot happened very fast. Heero, the boy with the wild midnight hair threw back his cloak to reveal a large twisted dagger, and with a feral cry he lunged at the braided one, burying the weapon deep in his side. The lover's revenge was exacted before anyone had a chance to react, but Duo however doubled over in pain, his violet blue eyes wide with suffering. Heero however stood firm and jammed his dagger in twice more, and blood began to trickle from Duo's mouth. Heero wasted no time, he immediately began to furiously spout out a tirade of Latin, to which Dorothy gasped.
"You fool!" she hissed, lunging at him. Heero deftly stepped aside, pulling his dagger from Duo's side as the braided boy slumped lifeless to the ground. Dorothy dove at him again, ripping through the air with her dagger, successfully hitting Heero. The boy dropped to one knee and covered the ragged gash with his unarmed hand, the blood seeping through his fingers.
Catherine had moved to Duo's side, holding the head of her misbegotten lover in her lap, weeping over the loss. Trowa meanwhile, had jumped to the blonde boy's side. He said nothing, merely began to untie the boy's already red and raw wrists.
For somewhere, just outside of the vision of reality, there came a roar, a guttural hissing growl that seemed to grow louder. The others seemed unaffected by it, but Trowa only worked faster, Quatre encouraging him but tugging at the bonds lightly. Dorothy and Heero continued on in the background, the Chinese boy dragged into the fight. Catherine was in her own strange world, where nothing but Duo seemed to exist.
Suddenly, there was the sound of fabric tearing and the crackle of electricity, and something awful stepped into the world, something that could never have existed in the reality before Serenity. It was so unreal that Quatre's mind could only feed it to him in pieces.
A large sinewy body, hunched over covered in randomly placed spikes. Claws, long awful claws. Large frog-like eyes slitted like a cat's. A gaping mouth full of rows upon rows of crooked, unnatural razor sharp teeth. Pebbled, red-grey-green skin that looked a sickly sallow maroon in the dimness.
Quatre whimpered, and tugged furiously at the knots; Trowa had become frozen in place by the sadistic vision. It loped over to Catherine, moving like a gorilla on its knuckles, easily taking her head off in one swoop of its overly large hands. The mass of russet curls flew across the room to hit the far side wall with a sickening wet slap.
Trowa was once again moving, and Quatre found himself free. He eyed the creature, wondering who it would go after next. And wondering if he had a chance to grab Dorothy's spell book.
The beast was now tearing away at Catherine's body, the sounds of gristle being punctured echoing in the cellar. Blood splattered the expensive rugs and tapestries that adorned that walls. The animal gave another harsh grating cry, muscle and skin and assorted bits of Catherine hanging from its jaws.
"Fool!" Dorothy hissed, shaking Heero furiously. The boy continued to gape in horror at the site of the creature, as he had done since it had arrived into the world. "I am not ready to control it yet!! I have not performed the ritual! The beast will bear no allegiance" to me!!!"
She continued to shake the boy, who could only stare mutely before him, his brain no longer able to digest this new reality. With an angered cry, she let go of him, and turned-
-just in time to face the vision of howling death that descended upon her.
It was his only chance; with speed he didn't realized he possessed, Quatre lunged forward, grabbing the ancient volume as Dorothy's screams echoed around him. He hastily flipped through it, skimming the Latin words for someway to stop the creature. If was to be released without someone capable of controlling it.....
The boy looked up in time to see the animal claim another victim. Wufei had scuttled off the a dark corner, struggling to his feet whilst Heero flailed about, the beast standing atop him, ripping his guts to bloody shreds. Trowa had not moved since Quatre's release, he stared on in morbid fascination.
Quatre's eyes returned to the book, sweat beading up on his brow. There has to be a way, Allah let there be a way...
Dimly, he heard Wufei scream. His eyes remained fastened to the page, a kind of odd relieve surging throw him. Thank you, Allah. Without hesitation, the boy belted out the Latin words as loud as he could.
The animal shrieked, it claws flailing wildly, bits of bone and pieces of flesh flying from its hands, the creature's serrated tongue lolling out of its mouth, uncoiling. It bucked a few times before falling on its side, and all was silent, and still. It was only a few seconds before green fire erupted over the body, the beast giving one last mournful cry before disappearing in the gloom.
All was silent.
It would be several weeks before a dashing young man stepped out of a coach on the cobblestones of a London street, a tall and lithe man following dutifully behind him, carrying luggage, a wretched look that passed across his features when he looked at the blonde one, as if things should have been different. The blonde man carried nothing save for a ratty and ancient book held close to his chest. His blue eyes scanned the city around him, an unnatural fire blazing within their depths.
He was to see his six luckily married sisters today.
It seemed the Winner heir was to receive his fortune, after all.
A smirk played up on his features as the blonde one followed his lover inside.