KC: Hi there!

Trowa: Now what's this about a sequel?

KC: Erk...uh, I thought you'd forgotten about that...

Heero: Spill it. Now.

KC: *stalling and edging to the exit* Do you really wanna ruin the surprise--?

Heero: *aims and takes off the safety* I will destroy you--

KC:Wellseethere'sjustsomuchIwannaputintothisstoryandIreallywannagettosee *gasp* Trowa'skingdomCorazonandthat'swherealotofstuffwillhappen *deepbreath* betweenthemastersandslavesandalotofangstandthenweshouldfind *gasp* outwhathappenedbetweenQuatreandWufeibutI'mstillsayingtheyweren't *gasp*loversandthehiddenthreatmenacinginthisficwillshowupinthesequeljustliketheseries

All: O.O

Wufei: Slow down, slow down!

KC: *passes out from lack of oxygen*

Duo: Hooray, she's dead!

Trowa: No more chapters?

Wufei: No more weak woman!

KC: *mumbling* Lime...Quat're...Trowa...flashback...

Heero: Damn. She's just stunned.

All: Aww...

Treize: At least the extra weight on her face spreads out with the gravity...

Duo: Is she drooling?

KC: ...silk leash...3+4...

Quatre: She's got a limey scene ahead with me and Trowa! *jumps on top of KC, leaping up and down on her chest* Breathe, darn it, breathe!

KC: Ack! Thppt! Help--quit--jumping--Qua--Qua--Qua--my ribs...

Trowa: And that's why my little one never gives first aid.

Quatre: *stops and gets off* Huh?

KC: *groan...congeal* Quatre, how dare you! In the name of the moon, I shall punish you!

Quatre: P-p-punish? *sniffles and tears up*

KC: *battle aura fades* Just too cute to punish...but now I've gotta heal up before I can write more--

Quatre: No, I want that lime scene soon! *grabs KC and flings her to the computer*

KC: *slams head on monitor* Aieee...my head!

Treize: At least it didn't come near her brains...

Zechs: That's for the dumb blonde cracks...

Quatre: Type! Please type! Here, let me get you some tea!

KC: But I don't like tea...how about ibuprofen?

Quatre: Coming right up!

KC: Quick...while he's out...start the chapter!

*

Colors. Reds, blacks, violets, watery hues straight out of twilight and dawn mingled together and swirled into rainbows both ugly and beautiful, like paint dripped into clear water. Intricate lace lay like spun crystal on royal blue silk and gold jewelry graced every wrist, every neck, every ear. Gloves adorned with precious rings covered every hand, while everyone concealed their face behind plumed and gaudy masks and obscured their intents behind pretty words.

Duo couldn't help his gasp, and now Heero thanked Midii's fashion sense that she had made Duo's mask cover his mouth. His facial expressions might have gotten him in trouble otherwise. "Hush."

"Like birds..." Duo gave Heero a sheepish look. "Sorry, I'll be quiet now."

Heero nodded and led him down the steps into the masquerade, slipping by the footman so their names wouldn't be proclaimed. Anonymity would be best for the night's work, and having all eyes on the prince and his nameless escort might panic the already nervous Duo.

Duo kept a tight grip on Heero's hand as they moved. From the top of the ivory stairs the dancers had looked like a swirling rainbow of colors and motion, but from inside the throng it was a glittering model of masked subtlety and sidestepping. Duo had a moment to wonder how they all avoided running into each other, but then Heero spun him into his arms and began the dance.

For a little while Duo didn't think about the impending thievery or the assassins or the political intrigues or anything other than the boy before him. He lay one hand on Heero's shoulder, careful not to jostle the feathery wings on his back. His black gloved hand stood out on the white angel's outfit. Heero's white mask covered three fourths of his face, leaving only a bit of his cheek and mouth showing, while more feathers drooped off the mask and swayed in the air.

Heero's opposite, Duo had been dressed in a black outfit with leather wings, cut small so that they wouldn't interfere with other dancers or draw attention to himself. His own mask draped like another veil across his nose, covering from his cheeks to his jaw. On his head was a jet headdress that included a long trail of dark cloth between his wings, obscuring his braid. Without any other ornamentation, they disappeared in the crowd of peacocks and shiny jewels.

"When will you start?" Heero asked in a small voice.

Duo took a deep breath. He hadn't expected Heero to want him to begin so quickly. He looked around and felt his heart speed up while his breaths got shorter. There were so many people and such fancy clothing that finding hidden pockets would be next to impossible, and if any of them looked up...and apparently Heero wouldn't lead him to the proper targets...

How could he? Everyone's masked. Duo breathed again and shook his head. No, don't scare yourself. I can find them. It's just like the market on a crowded day...only I can't run if I get caught here...

While Heero tilted his head, wondering if Duo was all right, a gloved hand snaked out towards an old lady in a blue gown with silver embroidery and a cape over her shoulders. The intricate silver broke pattern in a certain place, and the glove slipped easily into the concealed pocket. So light that neither party felt much of anything, a small package wrapped in silk was withdrawn and hidden in a recess of folded clothing.

"Shini?" Heero raised his voice, careful to call Duo by his agreed court name.

"I said you wouldn't see it," Duo said smugly.

Heero's eyes widened and looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed except Duo's mood. "Already?"

Duo wished he could kiss him then and there. "Yup. Let's keep going."

*

Wufei sat up in the far corner of the dungeon, away from the heat of the iron bars and manacles. A few of the guards had been kind enough to throw a blanket over a large pile of hay for him before returning to their post at the door, and the blanket was enough to cut the chill in the room. Nataku lay beside him, spouting little bursts of fire as she slept, and impressing him with her ability to sleep through tortured screams.

He stared back down the stretch of the dungeon, trying to see around the metal bars of one of the cells. Zechs and Noin blocked his view, but he could partially see Treize's auburn hair at waist level and hear his lover saying something in a low voice. A moment later, blood splattered on the wall, followed by another scream.

Wufei winced and returned to his work, doing his best to ignore the shrieks coming from the cell. He sketched out the particular design he would need later and listed the charms needed to keep the energies flowing correctly. Once he added the characters that would make up the containment spell and had proofread every last mark, he gave Nataku a nudge, making her bite at his fingers.

"Irritable dragon," he snapped. "We have work to do."

While she blinked her bleary eyes and tried to wake up completely, he slid off his blanket and took out a handful of long white candles. He pointed one at Nataku, who lit the wick, then tilted the flame an inch from the stone floor. A dap of wax dripped down, and he moved the candle slightly. It dripped again, and he eased it forward, repeating the process over and over until the candle wore down to his fingertips. He blew it out and left it standing in the soft wax where he'd stopped, then picked up another candle. Wufei checked his work and sighed. Only a fraction of the circle was drawn, and he still had all those characters to draw...

"This is going to take awhile," he mumbled. "Nataku."

She blew a lick of fire at the candle and watched him kneel over the ground again. Another scream made Wufei drop the candle, but he snatched it back up and kept going, berating himself for his weakness.

*

Quatre looked up and found a knife's tip resting on his throat. He followed the blade to the hilt, then moved up his attacker's arm until he found himself staring into brilliant green eyes. He'd be beautiful if he wasn't so deadly, he thought. "I am."

That means yes, then. "I doubt anyone remembers me."

Another tear coursed down Quatre's cheek, and he bit back a sob. All those people...all those people will suffer because I'm too weak..."But I can't save them," he whimpered. "They don't even know what I look like. They think I'm some kind of strong savior...and I'm just a little fortune-caster..."

Trowa blinked. Odd...usually they beg for their own lives..."Do you think your lover can bring you back from death?"

Never dropping the knife, Trowa raised one finger to Quatre's eyes and wiped the tears away, gently caressing the soft skin. "You're not afraid of me." He's beautiful...he's so strong. He's more frightened for his friend...I wish I had a friend like--"Formally proclaim me to be the rightful ruler of this land, and I'll let you live."

"Quatre?"

"Quatre, wake up. It's time to get up now."

He opened his eyes to find Trowa leaning over him, a smile on his normally stoic features. "'Morning, master," he breathed, reaching his arms up to guide Trowa into bed.

Instead, the young monarch took hold of Quatre's hands and pulled him into a sitting position. "Not morning, sleepy. It's still night."

"Still?" Quatre yawned and looked around. His guards were still there, but so was something else on his bed. He peered closer, and as his eyesight focused, he gasped in startled delight.

Before him lay a costume of light pink and dark crimson, complete with gold bracelets and a red sash. He picked it up and stroked the cloth lovingly, as if he couldn't believe it was there. The deciding factor was the headpiece and matching white cover for his face.

"Trowa?"

"Yes, love. Will you come to the masquerade?"

Taking his lover's stunned silence as a yes, Trowa began to remove Quatre's clothing, pulling his shirt off and helping him into the tank top. Nearly white but touched by a hint of pink, the cloth created the illusion of dressing the slave in a cloud. Trowa pushed a gold bracelet up to Quatre's bicep and added a thicker match to both his wrists. A red wrap went over his shoulders, hiding the top's straps and dipping over his chest.

Quatre shook off his disbelief and helped exchange his blue pants for the pinkish ones, adding the light leather boots at the end. Trowa brushed his hair out and lay the headpiece on, making sure the braided rope adequately secured the long trail behind and could keep the white veil in place. The cloth of the cover dangled long enough to be tucked into the red wrap. To finish the entire outfit, a red sash was added to cinch the waist in.

"You look like a real nomad now," Trowa teased.

Quatre laughed and pulled the mask down a few inches. "And what're you going to wear?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow, and Quatre finally noticed that Trowa had already dressed. His whole ensemble was black, from the dark leather boots and gloves to the cape flowing around his ankles. Hidden in the recesses was a black hilt and scabbard, but they blended so well that they were hardly noticeable.

"Sorry," Quatre couldn't help his giggle. "But in my defense, you always wear black."

Trowa chuckled. "True enough." He picked up his mask, which consisted only of loose black cloth that draped over his face like a curtain held in place by a thick headband. His hair showed, but his demeanor altered so greatly that no one should know who the man behind the mask was.

Quatre set his fingertips on the cloth "You change when you wear that," he whispered sadly.

Green eyes blinked at him. "I would never hurt you."

Quatre raised Trowa's mask and kissed him. "I know. I only wish you didn't have to wear it, that's all. Has the dance started yet?"

Trowa helped Quatre to his feet and guided him out, motioning for the Maganac guards to remain. "Let's go find out."

*

In the cell, Treize hid his disgust under a veneer of polite detachment from his duty, giving no sign of the backflips his stomach performed each time he twisted the knife. The body in front of him writhed in its own blood, some of it drawn by slivers of glass and some of it drawn from Treize's steel. A moan broke the silence, and Treize gave himself a quick break and tipped his head at the second body.

A pity that one died before we could interrogate him. He might have been more vocal than this one. "You said you found nothing on him?"

Zechs nodded, looking up from the wall. "No insignia, no papers, no money...only his knife."

Noin kept her eyes closed and pretended that none of this bothered her. "I suppose he dropped his bow and arrows somewhere."

Treize cracked his knuckles and started again, cleanly cutting into the dying man.

"Who are you?"

"Who hired you?"

"What is Oz?"

And each time, the assassin only groaned in answer.

"If you don't talk now," Noin warned him, "you're going to die."

The assassin gave a humorless laugh and spit out another mouthful of blood. "Gonna...die...anyway."

Zechs nodded. "True. But if you don't give us answers, we'll have to pry them from your soul."

No reply.

Treize used the back of his sleeve to wipe the drops of blood from his forehead. "And after all the work we're doing, you can bet I'll let my sorcerer feed you to his dragon."

The assassin stared at them, looking through the blood in his eyes at their cold, emotionless faces, and decided they meant it. He glanced back at the ground, wheezing. "I can...tell you...one thing."

Treize knelt beside him, straining to hear the fading voice, and the two officers behind him leaned forward in anticipation. "Yes?"

"Go to hell!" The assassin spat and coughed again, more blood coming up.

Treize frowned. He reached over to the plain knife they had found on the man, grabbed the hilt, and brought the blade up in a swift slash that not only severed the trachea but nicked the spine as well. Even as the body flailed and the eyes continued to blink in mute agony, Treize rose and walked out of the cell, followed by Noin and Zechs. She had one hand on Zechs' shoulder, using him as a support to keep her legs from buckling under her weight.

From the opposite end of the dungeon, Wufei looked up from his nearly complete circle. He knew the emotions raging in his master's eyes but dared say nothing to comfort him, not in front of the others and certainly not while there was another job to do. There could be time to talk come morning. No sooner.

"Put the knife in the center," he said, not wanting to touch it. "I still have to write in the charms."

Treize complied and stood back, careful not to break the wax. "Do you need anything else?"

"The other one's knife, steeped in his own blood," Wufei nodded while he continued to drip wax. Treize turned on his heel and headed for the body. Zechs, deciding that they would probably be needed to witness the actual summoning, sat down on a wooden bench not far away and allowed Noin to lean against him.

On the floor, Wufei finished the circle, leaving the candle stump at the juncture, and took up a black lump of charcoal. Ignoring how sooty his clothes would get, he painstakingly traced out each symbol around the circle. Nataku examined his handiwork, searching for errors and finding none. Treize returned with the other knife, setting it beside the other, and joined his officers on the bench.

"Nataku," Wufei whispered. "Light the candles now."

*

Music filled the air with a discordant background noise that kept everyone from talking loudly. Better not to say anything than actually be heard over the notes. Masks of half moons and full suns and five pointed stars dipped in and out of sight, followed by birds' masks, complete with long beaks and feathers along the head. Fake cats prowled paw in hand with elegant courtiers, all of them doing their best to identify the dancers by their eyes, movements, and words.

And behind his own mask, Duo grinned.

"You enjoy dancing?" Heero asked.

Duo nodded once. "I'd like it more if we were alone, though."

"I know."

"How can you tell?"

"You're smiling."

Duo gave him a confused look even as he lifted a green pouch from someone whose face he could barely see. "You can see that?"

Heero gingerly touched the soft cheek above the veil and caressed his half-shut eyelids. "Yes...not your mouth, but the way your skin moves, the way your eyes sparkle. Your joy is...more than obvious."

Duo grinned and kissed his fingers through the veil. "I like being in your hands...but the other work is fun, too."

"How do you do it so no one notices?"

Heero's eyes lit up with more curiosity than Duo had ever seen, and the effect was humanizing. The scowl vanished, replaced by a childish intelligence that made the prince seem like a real teenager instead of the emotionless doll he tried to imitate.

"I guess you've never been to the market," Duo said. "It's kind of like working the crowds there, except I usually only hit vendors and the occasional high ranking guard."

"What's the market like?"

Duo lifted a white satin coin purse, followed quickly by a small wood container. "It's...not like this place. There are a bunch of merchants on the street lined up against the buildings and they sell jewelry and food and pots and knives and things...and it's dirty. There's sand everywhere."

While Heero put his imagination to work, Duo scanned the immediate area for his next victim and promptly spotted Relena and Dorothy, the foster leading their dance while the Queen followed. He could only tell it was Dorothy because of the long hair trailing from behind her lion's mask, complete with a mane. Her paw, however, was in another dancer's black pants. Like any professional, he watched her technique and nodded approvingly when her hand came back with a wallet. When she caught his look, she gave him a smirk and a little bow, and persuaded Relena to head in a different direction.

"Funny," he whispered. "I heard that only male lions have manes."

Heero followed his look. "They do."

"Then how come Dorothy's got a male set?"

"Because...Relena prefers it that way."

"I don't understand."

Heero frowned, wondering how to put it. "They're like Sally and Une."

Duo just gave him another confused puppy look.

He doesn't know about them, Heero realized. "They...are like us," he said, pleased with his analogy. "In that way."

"You mean...oh...Sally and Une?!"

Duo didn't have time to think about his new information, however, as he gently snuck into a new pocket, pulling out a black pouch from a dancer dressed entirely in black. He sighed in relief that the man wasn't facing him, he positively reeked of danger.

"Have you fleeced everyone in here yet?" Heero asked.

Duo gave a sad little moan. "I think so. In any case, I don't think I can hold onto more without dropping something."

"Then let's go to the library. You can unload everything there, and then we might come back for another round."

"Do we have to?" Duo asked, slipping a teasing finger under Heero's shirt. "There's other things we could do in there..."

"With two guards watching?"

Duo blinked. "Oh yeah, I forgot...darn."

Heero took his hand and led him back up the steps, putting one hand around his waist to hold him close. "We can take care of that later." Once they were safely out of sight, Heero removed Duo's veil and took off his own mask. Nuzzling his cheek for a second, he pushed him gently to the wall and stole a batch of kisses.

"Mm...promise to...hold me after?"

"And never let go."

*

1. I'll clear up that bit about Trowa's costume and mask later.

2. See, no Relena or Dorothy bashing! I'm so proud of myself!

*

Duo: I could've danced all night, I could have danced all night, and still have danced some more...

Heero: There was no beer.

Quatre: It wasn't that kind of party!

Trowa: At least I didn't have to show for much of that.

Wufei: But what's happening in the dungeon? You didn't describe that.

KC: But this is like seven pages already. I wanted to devote a goodly amount of space to that scene.

Duo: But you're driving us nuts!

Readers: Us, too!

Quatre: Well...I guess that scene was kinda lime...not much, tho'.

Zechs: I never knew Treize was so violent. What's with all the blood and gore?

Treize: Indeed. If we must suffer this fanfiction, can we at least have a new author?

KC: *gasp* This is mutiny, Mr. Treize!

Trowa: We just think you should take a break and let someone else work for awhile...

Heero: Someone with talent.

KC: *turns calm* You know, I think I've given you far too much leeway in how you speak to me.

All: ???

KC: *battle aura flares up* Kitty-Cat PlotPoint Strike!

*Broken pencil leads shoot out and nail Wufei, Heero and Trowa on the rear.*

Those three: Yow!

KC: KC Writer's Block Slam!

*Big blocks fall on Treize and Zechs*

Zechs: Hey, I didn't say anything!

KC: Invoke mine wrath and thou shalt know vengeance! Hast thou had enough?

Heero: How come you haven't nailed Duo or Quatre?

KC: They're too cute. I couldn't do it.

Duo + Quatre: *begin playing pat-a-cake to look even cuter*

Duo: *whispers* Do we really have to do this? I feel stupid.

Quatre: *also whispers* Keep it up or she'll zap us...

KC: So...will you boys be good now?

All: *nod*nod*nod*

KC: Good.

Heero: For now.

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