Swan Lake by Rose ArgentBy the shore of a pristine lakeStands a willow that does weepBeneath it's branches soft earth liesAnd vibrant flowers grow ankle deepUpon that lake white swans do swimWith their graceful necks bowed lowSeeming to have tears in their eyesFor some great sadness that only they knowFor here it was two lovers metAnd here too it was they criedWitness the weeping willow wasWhen here those two lovers fell and died***************      Prince Heero was bored. While this was not a terribly unusual thing, today it seemed to him to be far, far worse than ever before. He did try to appear at least mildly interested as King Zechs of the distant land of Sank presented his young sister. He knew this girl was one of his parents' last hopes for a suitable match for him, but the fact remained that he was considerably more tempted by King Zechs than by the lovely Princess Relena.     His great accomplishment for the day was that he managed to kiss Relena's hand as if he almost meant it, and then quickly escaped back to his chambers. A few brisk snaps of his fingers later and his valet was gathering his riding leathers while he squirmed out of Court dress as fast as humanly possible.     Much as he wished it were otherwise, Heero was seldom able to go hunting alone. It seemed that no matter how quickly and discreetly he got himself to the stables, he almost always managed to pick up a half-dozen or so hangers-on. This time was no different.     The fact that so many courtiers had nothing better to do than lurk and wait for him to leave his chambers so that they could follow him around did not much improve the prince's opinion of Court life. But, alone or not, at least hunting forays got him out of the Palace and into the great outdoors, where manners and politics were considerably less important, and Heero could lose himself in some real action.     As always, Prince Heero out-rode, out-shot and generally out-performed all the others by a considerable margin. The typically unshakable valets had all been sent back to the Palace long ago, bearing various animal carcasses for the beleaguered cooking staff, and all but two of the courtiers had given up and gone back once the sun set.     "Your Highness, please return with us to the Palace", wheedled the more vocal of the remaining tag-alongs as the night deepened. "No animals worth taking are still out and about, Highness, and surely the King and Queen are beginning to worry..."     The young prince's only reply was an icy glare, but he was nonetheless inclined to return as requested, since there really was nothing left to hunt at this hour. But then he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, and immediately set his heart on catching that one last brave bird of the day. He only vaguely heard the courtiers' cries of dismay as he spurred his tired horse to a canter and tore off after that streak of moonlit white.     Quite alone now as he raced through the forest, all Heero could think of was carefully working his bow free and nocking an arrow to aim at the object of his obsession. But the bird eluded him and he was forced to lower his bow and hold on for dear life as his steed caught the mood and bolted off after the elusive target.     Cobalt eyes tracked the white bird carefully, breath catching in his throat as he got a truly good look at it. A swan. A most perfect, beautiful swan. Too perfect to be real, almost.     For hour after endless hour the prince chased the swan, ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and caught on his fine clothes, oblivious to the aching in his legs from keeping astride his horse. Time seemed to stretch out and then come to a complete stop as the forest pressing close on either side suddenly disappeared and Heero's steed came to a startled, turf-churning stop at the very edge of a lake.     Hunt forgotten for one breathless instant, the blue-eyed prince stared at the clearing around him. Soft, fresh-smelling grass surrounded a perfectly round lake; weeping willows hung low over a bed of the most amazingly vibrant, fragrant flowers imaginable, directly opposite where Heero sat upon his ebony-dark horse. Even in the washed-out white light of the moon, the clearing looked bright and full of colour, though the air hung as still as death, and time seemed a forgotten notion.     The soft fluttering of feathered wings and the quiet splash of a bird landing on water drew Heero's attention back to what had brought him to this place. Time began to move again, if slowly, and in a dream-like trance the prince drew his bow, steel-tipped arrow aimed directly at the swan.     A wind came up out of nowhere as the bird's head lifted, graceful long neck unbending from that sharp curve. Tiny black eyed met wide cobalt ones, and time shuddered to a full stop once more, unreality washing over the young prince like a wave. Heero's hand shook on the bow string as something almost palpable crackled in the air and the strange wind picked up speed.     The swan glided to the near shore of the lake, eyes never leaving the prince's, just as a particularly strong gust sent flower petals swirling around Heero's face. And the queer *something* in the air became almost oppressive, weighing down on the prince and his still-drawn bow.     Then something changed. The wind shifted, the flower petals flying around the swan in tight spirals. An odd shimmer formed in the air and the bird somehow became difficult to see, it's form blurring. The shimmering became worse and worse, the swirling of the petals faster and faster, until Prince Heero was forced to close his eyes, lest he become dizzy and fall from his horse.     When Heero cautiously opened his eyes again, he suddenly feared he had finally gone mad. His fingers clenched tight on the curved wooden bow and he drew the string back another inch, ready to let the arrow fly at any moment if the apparition before him made so much as a single wrong move.For the swan had vanished, and in it's place stood a slender, *human* figure dressed in a long white gown. Porcelain smooth, milk white skin all but glowed in the moonlight, barely a few shades darker than the gown, and from that hauntingly pale face a pair of impossibly wide eyes stared deep into Heero's own. Those eyes were arresting, breathtaking - violet and luminous and oh so sad.     Heero lowered the bow. If this was a dream, a hallucination, so be it. If the being facing him was a ghost, so be it. He could not believe that those eyes would lie to him, he could not think ill of the boy before him.     And it *was* a boy, despite the gown, despite the creature's petite frame, and despite the waterfall of chestnut locks that was a good two feet longer than the figure was tall. So very feminine-seeming, and yet there was something indefinable about him that told Heero that this was most certainly a boy.     For the first time in his life, Heero cursed his natural reticence, wished he knew the right thing to say, the courtly thing to do. But he didn't. He could only stare wordlessly, engraving this vision on his mind forever.     That timeless, heavy silence could well have continued forever, but then the sad-eyed boy spoke, his deep voice hoarse, as if from disuse. "You must go. It is not safe for you to be here."     Go? Just turn around and ride back out of this still, magic-riddled clearing? Without finding out who or what this spider silk and moonglow boy was?     "No", stated the prince firmly (though absently, almost as if speaking only to himself). "No", he repeated, looking again into those compelling amethyst eyes, "If there is danger here, if I am to leave.... come with me."     The strange, long-haired boy gasped softly in utter surprise, gaze falling to rest on Heero's extended hand as if drawn by some irresistible force. "I... I cannot. I cannot leave this place."     Cobalt eyes darkened to deep sapphire, a frown tilting down the corners of his mouth as the prince slowly withdrew his hand. He said quietly "You are a prisoner here", knowing in his heart it was true, simply from the sorrowful look in the apparition's marvelous eyes.     Neither boy could find anything to say, with that dreadful truth hanging in the dead air between them. Not a single sound disturbed the heavy silence, even the soft whispering of the willows gone quiet. Again Heero found that all he could think to do was stare at this ghostly captive who so fascinated him, marvel at this waking dream he found himself in.     A soft splash shattered the brittle silence into glittering shards, and two startled pairs of eyes turned to look at the lake. But nothing had changed; there was no sign of whatever had made the noise.     "Your name....", Heero blurted out, wanting at first only to say something, anything, so long as it kept that silence from returning, then finding that having the name of the figure before him was terribly important to him, after all.     "Duo. My name is Duo.", replied the slender boy with a sad smile, sounding almost surprised to remember it. Duo. A name from a language which, like the style of gown the long-haired boy wore, was common over a hundred years before, and had long since vanished into obscurity.     Without thinking, before he even realized he was doing it, Heero dismounted and dropped to one knee on the grass before Duo. As the startled young man stared down at him, the prince lifted Duo's delicately-boned hand to his lips and pressed a feather-soft kiss to the back of it.     Not releasing Duo's hand from his gentle grasp, Heero looked up to meet liquid violet eyes, his own eyes focussed embers of luminous sapphire. "Tell me. Tell me how you came to be here." Those embers then burst into flame, lighting cobalt eyes from within, trapping Duo's gaze, that intensity of feeling drawing the other boy in like a fire draws a moth. "And tell me how I might free you."*****     Prince Heero leaned low over his horse's neck as it galloped through the forest, the rising sun beating down on his back, too harsh by far after the soft white glow of the moonlit clearing. Images of Duo still filled his mind, the boy's soft words still echoed in his ears, fuelling the blaze of obsession within him.     "... A hundred years ago, I was a prince, the youngest of fifteen sons and five daughters ..."     His steed's flanks were dark with sweat as Heero reached the Palace stables, but the blue-eyed boy noticed not. Nor did the sea of clingy, mock-concerned nobles and valets affect him, nor even the appearance of his genuinely worried parents. Ignoring all questions, he fled to his rooms, wanting only to sleep, to dream of a soft bed of flowers where he had sat with a sweet-smelling boy and listened to his tale.     "... In my sixteenth year, the sorcerer Rothbart came to the Palace, seeking a bride. One by one my sisters were rejected, and my parents soon despaired of ever appeasing the sorcerer. But one morning he saw me a-hunt, and chose me for his wife ..."     Heero ran his fingers over the satin of his bed sheets, finding the fabric rough and plain after having touched the chestnut-gold silk of Duo's hair. He rolled over in his cold, empty bed and closed his eyes, recalling oh so very easily the tired, sad look on Duo's face as he related his story.     "... My parents were only too happy to be rid of me, having too many sons and a shortage of lands to give to them. But *I* was not so pleased. Time and again I spurned Rothbart and refused his gifts, until finally he began to grow angry with me ..."     Shifting restlessly in a bed which suddenly seemed far too large for one, the weary prince slammed his fist down against a helpless pillow, frustrated anger rising in his throat like bile. That such a thing had happened to his bright-eyed angel, horrible, unthinkable.     "... Eventually, one day things just reached the breaking point, and Rothbart... he cast a spell. It was, and still is, the strangest of feelings, to be turned into something other than human. Strange and frightening. More frightening still was staring up, so very far up, at Rothbart and hearing my fate announced in his booming voice. An eternity of days spent as a bird, never to age, regaining my humanity only between midnight and sunrise. And every morning, to face the same choice - marry Rothbart, or return to life as a swan ..."     Impossible for Heero to sleep with such unbearable rage roiling within, impossible. The young prince rose from his bed and began to pace, absently watching through the curtains as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky. The sun... all beauty seemed gone from sunlight now, now that Heero knew what this unyielding light brought upon his Duo.     "... Twists and snares aplenty lie hidden within this spell. Age, I do not, but my hair grows unchecked, so that I must let Rothbart near to brush it for me. Glimpsing a teasing light of hope in the knowledge that the spell can be broken by my accepting ANY man's proposal, though only while the full moon shines in the sky. That hope then snuffed out by being trapped here, where no man would find me. And should I ever be anywhere but in this clearing at either midnight or dawn, doomed to never again wear human form ..."     The night of the full moon. Twenty long nights away, and until then the prince, for all his Royal influence, could do naught to aid Duo, could only watch in agonized silence as the sky began to lighten each morning, the hated dawn stealing his amethyst-eyed mystery away from him. Twenty nights. Heero took up his sword and slashed his heavy drapes into fluttering ribbons, enraged just thinking of it.     "... But now, after so many years, Rothbart grows tired of his game. I fear, and I hope, that the next full moon will be my last. But he must not find you here, and dawn is coming. Please, go, for he will kill you if he discovers your presence, and I could not bear it ..."     Heero sank back down on his bed, exhaustion finally rearing up to claim him as he whispered to the empty air those very same words he had whispered to his gentle swan prince, mere hours ago, "I will return to you. Wait for me... I will return to you."*****     And return he did. Night, after night, after endless spring night, slipping from his rooms in the hour before midnight, evading his hangers-on more skillfully than ever before.     More and more, the prince began to neglect his daylight duties; seldom was his place in Court filled. On those rare occasions when he did put in an appearance, Heero appeared distracted and spoke only if pressed. This, in itself, was not a terribly unusual thing - it was that burning obsession in the prince's eyes that so shocked courtiers and servants alike.     And so the rumors began to spread, speculation and fantasy running wild in the hushed whispers of the Lords and Ladies of the Court.     "He is a traitor, slipping off to meet with the enemy in the dead of the night!"     "No, no, he has taken a peasant lover and got her with child, he goes each night to pay her for her silence!"     "A witch has cast a spell on him, and he sneaks off to do her bidding!"     "No, *he* is a sorcerer, and he vanishes each night to perform foul rituals!"     As time passed and Heero's manner grew stranger and stranger, so too did the rumors. But the young prince ignored them all, caring for nothing but the ghostly boy he grew to love more and more with each meeting. Only one thing other than Duo continued to have any effect on Heero at all - his parents' obvious and sincere concern for his well-being.     It was for their sake only that Heero made no protests when they arranged a ball for him; it was solely to mollify his near-hysterical mother that the prince agreed to choose a bride before the month was out. Until the date for the event was set for the night of the full moon. Then the ball suddenly became of the utmost importance to Heero, for what better way to prove his love to Duo than to ask for his hand and free him from his curse before the eyes of the entire kingdom?     The prince threw himself into the planning of the ball, and the rumor-mongers rapidly became confused - surely this behavior fit with no theory they could come up with, no wild fantasy they could conjure. The King and Queen, too, were baffled by their son's behavior, but now that that light in Heero's eyes was focussed on something they could *see*, their worry grew less, even though the nightly disappearances did not stop.*****     "You're shivering. Are you cold?"     "Perhaps a little."     "It is rather chilly tonight...", Heero mused as he draped his cloak over Duo's slender form.     "Aa.", Duo murmured, shifting a little until he lay more comfortably on the bed of flowers, his head pillowed in Heero's lap.     Heero stroked a stray lock of dark hair away from Duo's face and closed his eyes, content for the moment to simply lean back against the trunk of the weeping willow and relax with his love.     The swan prince's tentative whisper of "Heero..." broke the now-familiar and comfortable silence, and Heero opened his eyes once more, glancing down at Duo worriedly. "What is it, my heart?"     "Tomorrow night is..."     "The night of the full moon. I... I know."     "I feel as if... something terrible will happen. Rothbart... grows impatient with me and"     "And nothing will go wrong. *Nothing*. We've waited so long... I won't let anything prevent us from being together anymore."     "Promise me?"     "Aa. I promise. Nothing will keep us apart after tomorrow night."     Duo smiled up at Heero, amethyst eyes soft and lit from within, delicate features serene and angelic in the moonlight.     "Tomorrow night... would you come to me? To the Palace? There... there is a ball... I wish for everyone to see, to witness. Will you come?"     A slender, long-fingered hand reached up to gently cup Heero's cheek, the sleeve of that white dress slipping down to bare Duo's pale arm as he whispered feelingly "I would go with you anywhere."     The prince laid his hand over Duo's for a moment, turning his cheek into the caress and closing his eyes. "I love you."     "And I you."     The two boys lay together in silence after that, Heero's eyes shimmering with a gentleness no courtier or servant had ever seen in them as he stroked Duo's silken hair.     Each drowning in the other's presence, neither boy saw the black-clad figure watching them from the shadows, nor the flash of white-blond hair as the figure turned to vanish into the night.*****     The ballroom was bright with the light of a hundred candles, the flickering flames glinting off of glittered hair and powdered skin, off of bejewelled bodices and gold rings, off of each silver goblet and crystal chandelier. Swathes of violet silk graced the walls and a thousand different colors greeted the eyes as each courtier sought to outdo the next, each potential bride doing her utmost to be the most dazzling, the most beautiful.     But nothing and no one outshone the prince. Clad all in black and midnight blue, Heero should have been a dark shadow amongst the jewels of the ball, but instead he was a raging bonfire amongst wavering candles, his anticipation so intense it was almost palpable.     As the midnight hour approached, Heero glanced more and more frequently at the doors, and paid less and less attention to the fawning potential brides. It was not long before the crowd became aware of the prince's preoccupation, and a tension - a sense of waiting - began to fill the ballroom.     And thus it was that all eyes were turned to the door when a slender, long-haired figure made his entrance. Dressed in a flowing black gown, the violet-eyed boy stood in the doorway, fidgeting slightly in nervousness.     There was an audible gasp from the milling courtiers as Heero pushed through their ranks and made his way to the door, that fevered light back in his eyes, brighter than ever. Another gasp arose, and then quickly turned into urgent whispering as the young prince went down on one knee and kissed the other boy's hand, saying huskily "You really came...."     "Of course I came.", the boy replied in his deep, mellow voice, as he pulled Heero back to his feet and smiled winningly.     All whispering stopped, transformed into utterly stunned silence, as the blue-eyed prince replied with a warm smile of his own. The crowd parted like ripples fleeing the stone that made them as the pair glided hand in hand to the dance floor. The startled musicians (being professionals and thus dedicated to their work, no matter how distraught they might be) dutifully began a waltz, and the entire court watched in silence as Heero and the mysterious boy spun around the floor together like two parts of a single being.     When the music finally came to an end, the two boys continued dancing together for a few moments longer, lost in their own private rhythm. When they too came to a stop, the entire room waited breathlessly for some explanation, some resolution to the building anticipation.     Heero took the other boy's hand and led him to the dais at the front of the hall. Stillness reigned in the moments before Heero began to speak, weighing down heavily on courtier and servant alike.     "I have, indeed, chosen a bride tonight.", the prince announced, turning to face the stupefied crowd. He held the long-haired boy's hand tightly in his and said "This is the person I wish to wed."     For a long moment the quiet was complete... until a piercing wail of grief and loss broke the silence. All eyes turned again to the door, whence the scream had come. Standing there was another slender figure, different in aspect from the prince's chosen bride only in that he wore a gown of purest white, rather than black. Tears streamed down the boy's pale cheeks and his amethyst eyes glittered like shattered mirrors.     Heero turned sheet white and gasped in disbelief and near-physical pain at the sight of his love's tears "Duo? But...", slowly turning to look once more at the figure by his side. Only to find that he held now the hand of a stranger.     The crowd, too, noticed this change, their murmurs of confusion growing loud in the suddenly chill room. Standing beside the prince now was a slim young figure, yes, but a decidedly female one. The sorceress (for, considering the false image she had worn, she could be nothing else) began to laugh maliciously, her floor-length blond hair shining gold in the candlelight.     Before anyone could say a word, Duo turned on his heel and ran from the hall, his chestnut hair streaming out behind him.     The sorceress' laughter swelled, filling the hall and, even as Heero opened his mouth the call for the Palace Guard, she vanished into mist, leaving the prince's hand grasping nothing but thin air. Her disembodied voice echoed through the room, taunting "Duo belongs to my father, little prince. You shall never have him."     Heero cried out in rage and grief and whirled to chase after Duo, pausing only long enough to grab his sword and bow from the wall. The hateful laughter and the sounds of growing panic amongst the crowd followed him as he raced down the hall. The bellowing of guards and the shrieks of terrified Ladies was all but drowned out by the mocking laughter of the sorceress, until Princess Relena's voice rang out, calling for calm. The other sounds began to die down as the foreign Princess started to chant in some unknown language. The sorceress' laughter turned suddenly into a shriek of rage and pain, having found herself caught by the other woman's magic.     Then the doors swung shut behind Heero as he left the Palace entirely, and he heard nothing more from the ballroom, listening only to the soft sounds of the night and the distant patter of running feet.     For hour after endless hour, Heero chased his swan prince, ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and caught on his fine clothes, oblivious to the aching in his legs and the burning in his lungs from running without pause. Whatever magic filled this forest now filled the prince as well, spurring him onward long after his body should have begun to fail. Time seemed to stretch out and then come to a complete stop as the trees pressing close on either side suddenly disappeared and Heero came to a shuddering stop at the very edge of the lake.     Duo's white gown fluttered about him like gossamer wings, and ripples spread across the lake under the touch of his bare feet. The water held the swan prince up as easily as hard-packed earth, but seemed to welcome his steps like the softest loam. Cobalt eyes looked on in silent wonder, and for an instant all words fled Heero's mind like fragile butterflies. Then the gentle waters began to draw Duo in, and he sank to his knees in the cool lake, long hair floating around him like exotic kelp. Fear of losing his love in truth broke the spell of awe that held the prince's tongue, and his voice was raw with passion as he cried out "NO! Duo, please! It is only you I love!"     The long-haired boy's head turned, even as the water lapped at his thighs like an eager lover. Violet eyes met blue, searching for the truth of Heero's words. Hope kindled within the shattered amethysts of Duo's eyes, and the lake halted it's claiming of the delicate swan prince. White dress clinging to slender legs in wet, translucent swathes, Duo turned to face his prince, a tentative smile lighting his tear-streaked face.     Hands outstretched towards his angel, Heero asked softly, fearfully, "Duo, would you be mine, so that we may never be parted? Will you be my bride?"     Fresh, joyous tears fell from Duo's eyes as he replied in a voice choked with emotion "I will. I will be yours, with all my heart and soul."     Heero's broad smile seemed to light the entire clearing, and he held his breath as his bride-to-be started across the water towards him. A sharp whistling sound and a hard rush of air snapped past Heero's ear, and within an instant joy crumbled to dust and ashes, as a spot of red blossomed high on Duo's chest. Shock and horror wrung a sharp cry from the blue-eyed prince, even as Duo's eyes widened and he collapsed into the welcoming arms of the water.     No time for thought, Heero kicked free of his boots and dove into the chill lake, catching the sinking body of his injured love, dragging Duo back to the surface through trails of diluted crimson. Duo's limp form cradled in his arms, Heero staggered out of the lake and to the soft bed of flowers beneath the weeping willow.     Long, dark lashes lifted, baring tired amethyst eyes. Heero sobbed softly as he stroked Duo's cheek tenderly, his other hand already examining the growing stain of red on the white of the other boy's gown. A black-fletched arrow quivered still in Duo's chest, and Heero's heat sank at the sight. Voice a-tremble, he whispered "It missed the heart, so perhaps..." trailing off as a line of blood trickled from the corner of Duo's mouth.     Duo closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head faintly. Heero's groan of despair was silenced by one, trembling hand pressing to his lips. Taking that frail hand in both of his own, Heero sobbed again "No... I can't lose you, I can't..."     Struggling to draw breath, Duo said sadly "Some would say I was never yours to have, my love.", opening his eyes and turning his head to gaze across the lake. Confused, Heero lifted his head, cobalt eyes following the swan prince's.     Standing on the opposite shore was a man of icily beautiful mien and powerful demeanor. Tossing aside the bow he held in his gloved hand, the stranger smiled coldly. White-blond hair licked at his ankles, his black velvet cloak fluttered slightly in the wind; eyes of glacial blue stared at the pair of youths, filled with a hatred so fierce it nearly set the very air aflame.     Without a word spoken, Heero knew who stood before them. So like his daughter, save that he fairly glowed with power, the man who fired on Duo could be none other than the sorcerer Rothbart.     Trembling with grief and rage, Heero's hand groped for a sword which lay now at the bottom of the lake. Even as he sought some weapon, some means to end the life of the one who hurt his Duo so, Heero was forced to his feet by a powerful gust of wind. Leaving Duo resting beneath the protective branches of the willow, the prince approached the edge of the lake, his steel blue eyes declaring a wordless challenge to the sorcerer standing opposite him.     A ripple began at the center of the lake, and a wave appeared where there should be none, Heero's lost weapons riding it's crest. The water seemed almost to caress his calves as it washed past Heero, then retreated, depositing sword and bow at his feet.     Leaving the bow where it lay, the young prince raised his sword in a salute, the sorcerer matching the movement with his own blade. The tall, blond man waited calmly as Heero circled the lake, closing the distance between them.     Metal rang on metal as, almost without warning, the duel began. Feint, parry, desperate thrust, nothing seemed to faze the centuries old sorcerer, who danced free of any trap Heero sought to lay, as easily as a courtier might dance with his lady. The cruel smirk that curved up Rothbart's lips left no doubt in Heero's mind that the older man was merely toying with him, enjoying a brief, if amusing, game.     The two men broke apart for a moment - Heero, to catch his breath; Rothbart, merely because it suited him to extend the duel. In that instant of pause, the harsh cry of an injured bird broke the tense silence, and a black-feathered bundle plummeted to the ground between them.     Heero could only stare as the black swan shimmered and became the slender form of the woman who had deceived him at the ball. Rothbart's eyes grew wide and round with surprise and dismay, and he cried aloud "Odile!", running to his daughter's side.     The blond woman stared up at her father with pain-filled eyes, and whispered "A foreign witch. She had magic that I knew not. Father, help me!", her voice weak and desperate.     Rothbart shook his head in disbelief as he regarded Odile's wounds. "I... cannot", he gasped, the words forced from a throat locked tight with shocked grief.     Odile cried out, face contorting with rage as she looked to Heero. For a moment, pure, fiery hatred burned in her eyes, then blond lashes brushed against high cheekbones, lids hiding ice blue orbs from view, and she gave a last shudder. Her form dissolved into a tempest of black feathers, which were soon carried off by the wind.     Slowly, ever so slowly, Rothbart raised his head. As his eyes met Heero's, the gentle breeze became a howling gale, and the young prince stepped back from the enraged sorcerer. Hissed words, somehow audible even above the wind, were all the warning Heero had - "No more games, boy. You will pay for my daughter's life with your own!" - before the duel was rejoined.     No games this time, indeed, Heero now found himself fighting desperately for his life. Blood soon flowed from a dozen small wounds, and the young prince was forced back again and again. On his knees before the sorcerer, Heero stared up at the sword which arced towards him. A sudden flurry of flower petals blinded Rothbart for a bare instant, sending his strike wide and causing him to stagger back one, vital step.     Seizing his only chance at survival, Heero forced himself to his feet and put the entire weight of his slender body into one upward thrust of his sword. The blade sliced cleanly into Rothbart's chest, it's tip rending that velvet cloak as it exited the sorcerer's broad back.     And Rothbart laughed, glancing down at his opponent's sword and remarking coldly "An exquisite strike, boy, and it would rightly have been a killing blow. Your sword should have pierced my heart... save that I have none."     Again the blond sorcerer raised his blade, while Heero's remained caught firm in his chest. Staring death in the face as it raced towards him once more, Heero's broken heart shuddered in despair.     All too familiar, the whistling snap of air that nicked Heero's ear as it passed, and all too familiar the black fletching that appeared in front of his startled eyes. Rothbart choked, dropping his sword to clutch desperately at the arrow piercing his throat.     Heero's hands closed around the hilt of his trapped blade, and he wrenched it free with the strength of desperation. Arms shaking with pain and exhaustion, Heero drew back his sword and swung with all his might, cleaving deep into the ages-old sorcerer's damaged neck. Another sharp tug, another rage-fuelled swing, then blond hair and red blood filled the air as Rothbart's head was riven from his shoulders. Blood, hair and body then vanished in a flurry of rose petals, the winds taking them within moments.     The howling of the wind ceased as Heero's sword dangled from numb fingers, and stillness filled the clearing as the blue-eyed boy turned to face across the lake once more.     The willow's trunk supporting him like a father's strong arms, Duo smiled faintly, Heero's abandoned bow still clutched tight in his fingers. The blood staining his gown bright crimson flowed now from a ragged hole in his chest, whence he ripped the arrow that felled him, the same arrow that, in turn, pierced Rothbart's throat.     Heero reached the dying prince's side at the very moment he began to fall once more, and caught Duo up in a protective embrace. Sinking down to the bed of wildflowers with the violet-eyed youth held tight to his chest, Heero began to weep softly, saying only "My love, my angel, please don't leave me."     Duo smiled tremulously, one hand raising to brush at Heero's short hair, lovingly. "I die free, and in your arms, knowing that my curse is at last ended. Thank you, for saving me."     Shaking his head in futile denial, Heero crushed Duo closer, mewling like a wounded animal. As the first light of dawn reached the clearing, Duo sighed "I see the sun with human eyes... oh, my love, you have given me such a gift..."     A glint of silver flickered at the edge of the prince's tear-dulled sight, and he whispered words of trust, of love - words which only last night Duo had said to him - "I would go with you anywhere".     With no more warning than that, Heero snatched up his fallen sword and drove it into his love's back, not stopping the thrust even as it continued through to pierce his own chest. Gasping once in pain, Heero met Duo's shocked gaze and smiled, tilting his head to claim his angel's lips in a gentle kiss. Bound together so, by steel and by love, the two princes died, the morning sun shining down on them like a blessing.     To this very day, that sword lies cradled in a bed of flowers, a weeping willow standing guard over it for all time. ***************By the shore of a pristine lakeStands a willow that does weepBeneath it's branches soft earth liesAnd vibrant flowers grow ankle deepUpon that lake white swans do swimWith their graceful necks bowed lowSeeming to have tears in their eyesFor some great sadness that only they knowFor here it was two lovers metAnd here too it was they criedWitness the weeping willow wasWhen here those two lovers fell and died