Slavery of the Heart Ch. 2/?

[Ally Lei]

HELLO!!!! This is Ally Lei and I would just like to say that I thank all of my readers for actually reading my story whether you finished it or not; whether you reviewed me or not; whether?well? thanks. Here is the next installment of Slavery of the Heart Ch. 2/?.



Oh Yeah, there are spelling and grammar mistakes in this chapter but whenever I go back and try to fix them I can never seem to find any. So please, if you can review me please help me out.

Slavery of the Heart

By Ally Lei


Summary: A girl, to save her love's life, sells him into slavery. But now he is back and this time they are going by his rules, and all he wants is revenge and her. But what if they are caught up, again, in the game of deceit that destroyed their love. (AU) HxR

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.




The light from the oil lamp overhead was dim, casting shadows on the walls and floor; making it seem like you were in a different dimension. It was stuffy in the room; the air had become stagnate. Jakkin was downstairs getting our food and no doubt procrastinating. I think he sensed I wanted to be left alone. Out in the desert, that was the strongest memory that had captured me in a long time. It had put me in a ?thoughtful? mood which those closest to me call my ?grumpy? mood. They once joked that in this mood I could make the whole Sunnsand region bitter cold. They were exaggerating quite a bit but you get the idea.


I sat on the single bed in the room (Jakkin insists on sleeping by the door, he says he is protecting me from what he calls ruffians) in the far corner from the door. Straw and feather rustled together as I shifted my position on the mattress. Why had that memory come after so long? Was it because I was so close to where ?it? happened? My deepest secret that even Jakkin doesn?t know about? Only four people in the whole world know what happened. One of them is in slavery, not understanding why. Another is dead, and the other is free and living a happy, prosperous life. The last one grows colder every day. Can you figure out which one I am? I don?t think you can.


We had arrived in the town in the evening, which I was grateful for because usually when we arrive anytime before supper, someone always seeks me out and challenges me. I was really not in the mood for a fight. We quickly sought out the cheapest yet most reliable inn we could find. That wasn?t hard because there were only three inns in the whole town. It wasn?t the biggest of towns but it was by far not the smallest.


I let Jakkin handle all of the arrangements for board, food, and stabling because I was still lost in a daze. I guess I was coming to rely on Jakkin. Not good. Maybe I should start pushing him away. The thought wormed it?s into my head. Got to love mental self-defense, if there is such a thing.


I was silent going up the dimly lighted stairway, down a dimly lighted hallway, and into and dimly lighted room. Seems as if this inn was made for me and my moods. I threw down my knapsack and unbuckled my belt to slip off my scabbard. Crossing the room to sit on the bed, I rested my sword across my knees incase I needed it. That is where I sat and that is where I am, now, an hour later. Jakkin left to go get food a half an hour ago not being able to stand my silence.


I sit there quietly looking at my sword across my lap. I am sure I look like a painted statue, I am so still but I don?t care. Silently without notice to my surroundings my mind ticks away at a frantic pace; thinking up strategies, words, conversations anything to take my mind away from the past. I have learned that dwelling there can break a person yet it seems I subconsciously don?t want to pay any attention to that lesson. Maybe it would be better if I let it all go. Just let it out. No one is here to see me. No one is there to see the Sword Queen fall. I am utterly alone. All alone.


I make an attempt to shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts. Again I am asking myself why I am thinking these thought. A though came as an answer. Could it be?? My eyes dart to the record of dates on the wall.


The 26th.


Today is the 26th day of the fourth month in the year 495 .


?My birthday.? I whispered with my eyes wide.


I had unknowingly marked the day of when I was born and the day my life changed. My birthday used to be a joyous occasion. Every year my brother would throw a small party for me with just my friends and a few close relatives. My father never did any thing for my birthday because he was always away over it. I never did mind it. I was perfectly happy with just my friends and even after Father?s image changed in my eyes not much else did. I would receive presents, tear them, open and ?ooooooooo? and awe over them. I was glad to receive gifts people kindly picked out but it was when all of the guests left and my brother came to me with a special gift. Each gift he gave me was a prize possession no matter how small, useless, or tackily beautiful. He was my brother and I loved him for it. He could give me a smelly old shirt and I would still cherish it because it was his and it would give me the same sense of comfort.



This was all before I met him.


I missed him; both of them actually, Zechs and him. We always celebrated my birthday together just like we did for theirs. But now on my 22nd birthday I was alone. Away from both of them. Away from love or any sense of comfort. Traveling sucks.


It was sometime before I realized tears were running down my face and making paths along my dusty face. It was then that I felt myself break. Tears came pouring out, all of them racing each other to help me cry my sorrow. It wasn?t the thought that I was alone that bothered me so much, hell I have been alone for six years, but it was the thought of my life and where I was now that broke the dam. I cried for along time it seemed like. Now I was sprawled out on the bed, my cheek pressed into the sheets and half way in between sleep and cruel reality is where my mind turned to another birthday memory.



(AN: I will do this rarely but I have to clear this up. This is Relena?s pov and the following memory is the continuance of ch. 1?s. Ok? Ok.)



I stood shivering in the rain snuggled into this kind stranger?s oiled cloak. He still had his hands on my shoulders? and was looking at me. He seemed to be trying to make a decision because I was sure I looked horrible. He gave a slight nod of his head having come to a decision. Bending down he picked up the knife I had forgotten all about. He seemed surprised when he saw it and gave me a sharp glance. It looked like he wavered on his decision but stuck to it. Putting his hand on my shoulder he guided me through the park and onto the deserted street.


He led me through a maze of roads and alleyways that I didn?t pay attention to. Remember I had just had one of the shocks of my life. I was still shivering in the cloak but whether it was because of the rain or shock I don?t know but he was getting wet to and he wasn?t shivering. Maybe he just didn?t show it.


Finally we arrived at a building. I recognized as the blacksmith?s place where I had bought the knife. He led me through a door and into what was the workroom. Maybe he was an apprentice. He certainly seemed like he belonged here. Walking through the front half of the room I noticed it was messy. Messy in an unorganized way. Tools were scattered all over work tables and half finished projects were just lying about the space. Someone could easily trip over one of them. I shuddered to think of what I would have found if I actually looked through all of the junk. I hoped he wouldn?t make me have to find a place to sit but we didn?t even stop. We walked right on through the mess and came to a much cleaner setting.


He pointed to a stool by the fire place and I gladly took it. I sat there by the fire being warmed up and I watched him shuffle around the place picking up tools or scraps and putting them away. Twice he went over to the other side and came back with a small frown on his face, tool in hand. Once he took down a rag from the wall and wiped one of the tools he brought with him. He was a meticulous cleaner and no doubt was an even more meticulous when it came to his work or details.


I learned more about him in those first moments then I have about any of my friends. I also looked at his face and body. He was handsome even at the age thirteen. Dark unruly brown hair (which is an unusual color for a free citizen) shadowing deep blue eyes, the color of a raging sea (another unusual color). He was about as tall as me but I expected that because he wasn?t your normal Sunnsand male. At my age of ten I was taller than most boys at the age of fifteen which meant he was taller too. He moved with surprising grace as if he was used to bearing weight and keeping it steady. He was lean. Small, dense muscles covered his whole body and even then I could see that he had slightly broad shoulders that would begin to grow broader as he got older.


I was thoroughly warmed up by the fire when he obviously ran out of things to do. He brought me a metal cup of tea from the kettle hanging over a small fire place where he was fiddling earlier. I forced myself to give him a small smile in thanks. He didn?t smile back so I let it fall. I drank my tea noting the slightly bitter taste and assumed it was Dragon?s Root, the plant found in the desert that when turned into a tea would heat your body from the inside out. I wasn?t particularly fond of it but it served its purpose on a rainy day such as this.


Before I knew it, my tea was gone and I had to give him back my cup. He took it and set it on the floor next to his. He scooted a stool in front of me and folded himself up on it. He stared at me for awhile, making an assessment of me as I did of him. Finally he shifted around and held up my knife he had never given back to me. I had forgotten all about it. I looked at it then him and met his eyes dead on, silently asking him what he wanted from me. He then spoke in a cracking deep voice.



?Where did you get this?? he asked. His voice cracked a bit but that was because his voice was almost but not quite done maturing.


I blinked. He wanted to know where I had gotten the knife? Did he want one of his own?


?I got it here. The blacksmith sold it to me today.? I responded truthfully.


He seemed to think for a bit and I sensed the slight hostility he had for me was dispersing. I wonder what he thought I did.


?Two days ago a knife disappeared from my finished projects rack. To be specific this knife disappeared because someone stole it.? Before I could object that I did not steal it he went on. ?Did this blacksmith have curly, black hair??


I thought for a moment before I responded. Did he have curly black hair? I couldn?t remember that well because I was too excited about having found the perfect gift for Father. I frowned a bit at that thought. Wait. No, he had straight black hair and I told the boy in front of me so. He frowned at that but he seemed to have a smug attitude now. Giving me a small smile he got up and walked over to a rack were knife in various sizes were hung by their hilts in between two pegs. I had noted it earlier but thought nothing of it but now I thought that this must be his finished project racked. He scanned the rack and picked out a small knife about the same size as the one I had bought. He brought it over to me and held it out for me to inspect.


It was almost the exact replica as mine only this one had a blue stone embedded in the hilt and upon closer inspection there was a thin blood groove in the blade. I was a bit confused as to why he was showing it to me. I had a perfectly good knife that was almost identical to this one in his hand. He saw my confusion and held it closer to me much to my dismay. I was now face to face with a deadly weapon no matter how small. What did he want me to do?


As if reading my thoughts or maybe he just saw my hesitation and came to the logical conclusion he said, ?Take it?


?Why?? I queried.


?Because this knife-?, he held up mine, ?is imperfect. It has a tiny flaw down by the hilt that if hit with the right amount of force it could shatter.? He added, ?I was going to melt it down again and try to form some kind of cup or jewel setting from the metal. It would never work for a valuable knife.?


His little speech convinced me he was an apprentice. I only understood about half of it because I was obviously lacking in the knowledge of the finer points of making weapons. A knife was a knife wasn?t it? Even when he explained it out to me I was still a bit confused as to why he was giving the blue jeweled one to me and as much as I tried to hide it he saw my confusion.


?Here let me show you.? he said, going over to his tool rack on the opposite wall of the project rack.


He took down a tiny hammer that was probably fashioned for delicate work. He brought it over and set my knife on the hearthstones in front of me. He then bent down close and examined it by the fire light. Taking aim, he let the tiny hammer drop on the invisible (to my eyes) flaw near the hilt. The blade shattered into five pieces: three big ones and two pieces that if put together they would be the same size as the other three.


He looked back up at me through his still wet bangs, watching me for a reaction. He got one but I don?t think it was the one he expected. Seeing the blade shatter reminded me of my dilemma. Father had killed Mother. Mother was gone. Did Zechs purposely not tell me? Of course he did; he wanted to protect his baby sister, I thought bitterly. And when you looked at the shattered pieces they could sort of stand for my family. The three pieces were Father, Zechs, and me. The little pieces could stand for Mother. The thought brought tears to my eyes and I let them flow not caring who saw. I had thought all of the tears were gone but obviously I was wrong. And this wasn?t sobbing it was just weeping, a steady stream of tears rolling down my face quietly.


I didn?t see his face but as I said he was most likely surprised and not a little bit confused and uncomfortable, but even that didn?t stop him from trying to comfort me. Like in the park, he put his hands on my shoulders and then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to his body. I cried there on his shoulder making it wet once again after it was almost dry. He didn?t do anything else and I didn?t really want him to. I just wanted to be held; like Mother did when something scared me. I found myself whispering over and over ?Mother is dead. Father doesn?t love me.? into his shoulder and he still didn?t let go. He just held on like he knew what it felt like to lose one?s parents. I eventually did find out that both of his parents were dead and the blacksmith he was apprenticed to was his father?s brother, but that little bit of information wouldn?t come until later down the line of our budding friendship.


Finally I stopped crying and just sat there hugging him because I apparently wrapped my arms around him. No wonder he hadn?t moved, he couldn?t. I immediately backed up, unwrapping my arms from around him and breaking through his circle of arms as well. I felt my face heating up. I had just cried on a total stranger?s shoulder as if I was some pathetic child.


I think it was at this point were I started to build my pride and up as a defense mechanism. I was certainly a bit colder to everyone after this day. Except him. Never him because he helped me and cared about me.


?I?m sorry. I didn?t mean to cry on you but thank you for letting me.? I apologized.


He seemed a bit taken back at first. He obviously wasn?t used to being thanked or apologized to. He was probably under appreciated and taken advantage of; which wouldn?t have surprised me that much by he reactions and doing since we arrived under this roof.


He gave a quick smile. ?It?s all right. I have had my ups and downs as everybody has.?


I noticed that he had an educated way of talking but put words in certain places and accented them with the commoners? accent. When you spoke to him you could understand him perfectly but didn?t get the sense that he was anything other then an apprentice blacksmith. He could probably speak correctly and like a nobleman if he wanted to; giving him a certain advantage when he went to sell his work to either nobles, or commoners because they would feel more comfortable with someone they thought was like them in a roundabout sort of way. Very clever. I wonder who taught him to do that.


He thought I was a commoner like him and treated me thus. He treated me like an equal. No submissive attitude of the servants or the disgust and contempt of the slaves. It was really refreshing. I think that is what made me decide to disguise my noble?s pronunciation and dress whenever I went into town from then on. I realized I wanted to be his friend. I wanted someone to treat me for personality. I realized right then that I was annoyed at my brother for treating me like a little naively idealistic girl and at everyone else for discrimination at my station in life. I wanted to be an equal.


But how?


I could never go back after my display of emotions. Running throw the mansion like a little girl would not gain anything that I wanted. Everyone inside the grounds would probably look at me with sympathy and think: ?Poor Lena. I wonder what she is crying for. Maybe ?..? and then they would go off and make stories in their own heads as to why I was crying. Then they would probably tell them to others and pretty soon there are dozens of rumors flying about the place and everyone will treat me like I am a doll. Just the thought makes my stomach roll.


Then there were those who probably would look at me with disgust and think: ?Poor Lena! Hah! She can?t handle life! She should just deal with it! I bet she?s just trying to get attention.? or something along those lines. Then the whole rumor procedure would start and then there would be MORE rumors floating around. After that happens the house hold would take sides and would treat me however they saw fit. One side like a doll; the other like a pathetic maggot (Though that reaction would be concealed if they wanted to keep their jobs, they would still be quite cool with me.)


?I can?t go back. I don?t know what to do. Everyone will treat me different. I don?t want that.? I whispered aloud while looking down at the dirt floor. I didn?t mean to say it but I had a habit of speaking aloud to help me think. I usually got weird looks because of it too.

He heard me though and responded.


?You have to go back. ?They? will treat you different most likely but who cares what ?they? think.?

I just stared at him. Was he teasing me or trying to lighten the mood?

?Ok listen. If anyone asks you if you are alright just tell them you are fine. Every thing will eventually pass and this event will be wiped from peoples? memories.? he advised.


I continued to stare at him. He certainly had an innocent outlook on things but he was an apprentice blacksmith so maybe all commoners thought that way. Maybe that was why nobles could rule lands. Because they were smarter and could handle things like that. Little did I know that behind that innocent exterior was a cold, calculating mind and he used it to his advantage as did other commoners like him. It was in my upbringing that I discriminated them but I quickly learned my lesson. I think that the only miscalculation he made was when he believed I was a commoner too. It would have saved both of us a lot of pain down the road if he hadn?t.


?But I wouldn?t be fine.? I replied. Wasn?t that obvious?



He sighed a bit and thought. For a few minutes I waited for his response. He glanced at me every now and then, weighing options until finally he made his decision. He looked me straight in the eye as if finalizing his decision and then he spoke.


?I have found in the past that as long as someone knows the truth you?ll be fine.? Seeing my blank look he elaborated as best he could.


?When someone asks you if you?re fine and you say you are, even if it is a lie, as long as there is someone who knows you are not you?ll be fine. That someone will know you?re not fine because you tell them you?re feelings and thoughts.?


I blinked.


I still didn?t understand what he was trying to say (his wording was a bit weird) but I got a sense of what he was hinting at. He was saying I needed a friend to confide with. To tell all of my thoughts, frustrations, and feelings to said friend and then I would feel better. It did make sense sort of but was he offering me his friendship or telling me to get a friend. My only friend at the time was Hilde, a maid that served directly to me and even knew where and how to get to my secret room. I think I could tell her but then I think she too would treat me different.


I slowly shook my head. I don?t think I could tell Hilde; it would be just too?.weird having a friend, no matter how close, to know my father killed my mother.


He looked like he expected my response which was the first hint to his brain power. I, of course, didn?t notice it because I thought that nobles were smarter at the time, but he stood up from the stool and hauled me up with him. As soon as I was on my own two feet I backed away. I was still with a stranger, a person I didn?t even know what his name was. He bent down, picked up my broken knife pieces, and held out his hand to me.


?Do you want them?? he asked.


I shook my head. I would have thrown the pieces away anyway because they had to much sentimental value on them and none of it was positive. Again he expected my answer because he was walking away from me before I even processed what he asked. He set them on one of the work tables next to the half stone, half wooden wall (bottom half was stone) and came back to me.


?The rain has let up it should stop before we reach the door. You should go back just remember what we talked about. Okay??


I nodded. It seemed during this whole meeting I had said roughly nine sentences if you didn?t count my mantra of: ?Mothers dead. Father doesn?t love me.?


?Good? he stated.


He took hold of my elbow and led me to the other side?s mess. I again shuddered but he noticed it this time. I think it was because it wasn?t natural for a person to shiver when they were dry, which I was. He looked back at me and then turned to see where my gaze was pointed at. His face took on an amused expression and I obviously went up on his ?Good List? because I wasn?t going to be a slob. It looked like he favored people who were as control freaks as him.


?I would apologize for the mess but I don?t apologize for other people. I will assure you though that this is not my master?s or my mess. It is my fellow apprentice and cousin.? he looked at me again, ?He is the one who sold you that knife.?


I, being my inarticulate self, nodded again. It made sense. This boy in front of me had more talent and affixation for his craft while his cousin probably was only learning to please his family. He was naturally jealous and did everything he could to annoy his rival for his family?s praise.

We reached the door without any more conversation, but when I went to go out the opened door he grabbed my shoulder. I turned to look at him because he was behind me. Half shadowed by the light he looked mysterious and powerful.


?I am busy tomorrow but how about the day after tomorrow I meet you in the park at the highest point of the sun and we go from there?? he asked with a grin.


I looked at him in shock. What was he proposing to do? Was he?


As if reading my mind (or my facial expression) he asked, ?Do want to be friends??


He still had a grin on his face but now his eyes twinkled with amusement. He held out his hand as if this was a business meeting and he knew it too. His eyes were entirely too mischievous to be serious.


I grinned too because of his infectious nature. I took his hand and tried to squeeze firmly but he had other ideas. He pumped my hand up and down for a whole minute. My arm was sore after that.


?My name is Heero by the way.? He stated


?Relena? I gave him my middle name. I didn?t want him figuring out my identity to soon. That would be disastrous to this new friendship.


I was five steps away from the workshop when he called after me.


?No secrets okay??

I turned and nodded and then continued on my way all the will wondering what I had gotten my self into.


?Do you want to be friends??


End Chapter

So how was that?

I do admit I am moving along at a slow pace but I am setting up a great story! At least I think so it all depends on what you, my readers, think so please read and review to give me tips and praises. You can also give me flames if you want. I personally think that after reading flames I strive harder to write better.

As said at the top, can you please help me find the spelling and grammar mistakes by reviewing me and telling me where they are. Once I can find them I will delete this chapter and to correct it and replace it. Thanks.


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Ally Lei