Title: Heart of Gold
Author: Seaa )
Rating: PG-13 - R
Pairing: 21x2, 34, 65
Genre: AU, Fantasy
Archive:
Warnings: probable OOC, slight angst, sap.
Disclaimer: I have never, nor will I ever, own Gundam Wing and all things contained within.
Summary: Heero, crown prince of Hei, is cursed with immortality and the touch of gold, making him a bitter youth, unable to live but forced to. One day Duo, a wandering minstrel, stumbles along, plunging into his life with every intention of helping the Prince – can he?
Notes: Loosely based on the story of King Midas' touch of gold. Feedback is much appreciated.

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Prologue

He opened his eyes, feeling the last traces of sleep wash over him and away from him. He blinked; just once, before his eyes came to flutter close again, lashes lying against his face. He felt himself breathe; in, out, in, out, chest rising up before making its way down. The room smelt familiar, like it always smelt – musty, the air thick in some way.

The plush blanket felt heavy upon his chest, and he brought up a hand – invisible, in the complete darkness – to push it away, the once comforting feeling of warmth now constraining him in its utter thickness. Before that, his hand had been lying facing upwards, above the blankets, the way it had remained throughout his entire night's sleep. Now, as he readied it for its descent downwards, he felt his heart catch in his throat; that despised flicker of hope moved through him, and finally, he brought his hand down to clasp a handful of the blanket. For a second – perhaps he simply imagined it – he felt the warmth, the softness, the reassuring touch of the cloth – then it was nothing but chilly. Bitterness seeped through every part of him, and his cold blue eyes opened again, this time staying that way.

Heero Yuy, crown prince of all the lands of Hei, pushed the blanket of gold away from him, leaving it for the servants to pick up. They always did. Nothing ever changed; everything stayed exactly the same as it had the day before, and the day before that. It was like each day was the echo of the last, from dawn to dusk. He was living a déjà vu; he was living a mockery of life.

Heero sat up and moved to the side of the bed. His feet hit the floor, and he placed both hands on either side of him, pushing himself up. He didn't have to wait for the bedcovers to turn gold on him – after all, he was already secure in the knowledge that they would. They did, everyday, when he got up the exact same way he just had.

Nothing changed.

The moment he stood up, dim light flooded the room. He couldn't help but stare at his hands for a moment.

They didn't look wrong, or tainted, or different.

His hands could have been anyone's. There was nothing there to indicate that they might do anything else, anything but function, as they should have. His fingers were long, slender even, and as far as hands went, they were well shaped.

A tiny scar lay on his left hand, from when he was five, and cut his hand on a broken piece of glass when the windowpane shattered. The weapons master had been taking him through the basic techniques of throwing knives and one such attempt – using bladeless knives, of course – and gone a little off target and hit the window instead.

Heero had always found it slightly ironic that while practising knife throwing, of all things, he'd cut his hand on glass, being stupidly clumsy and tripping over another of his practise knives. To this day, he still wasn't sure how he'd manage to maneuver such a ridiculous move… Not that it mattered.

Nothing mattered. Not anymore.

His hand fell to his side and he resisted the urge to push his hair away from his face. It wasn't clear if his touch could turn him into gold, but he wasn't about to try.

Why not?

The thought hit him suddenly, painfully and unbidden. And yet, why, why not? He had nothing in this world that he could want, and the oblivion of death seemed… comforting.

But… no. That would be betrayal, of his family, of all those he had ever cared for, ever cared for him. It wouldn't be fair.

And to do that would mean that he had stopped hoping, something he promised his mother never to do. Heero Yuy didn't break a promise.

He moved swiftly, his legs making quick work of the space between him and the door, resisting the thought that all he really wanted to do was fall into the darkness that sleep brought.

The darkness was his saviour.

-TBC-

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A/N: I started this around two years ago, when I was at the peak of my GW obsession. For a very long time this fic was my baby, and I had every intention of finishing it before ever posting. Since then, however, I drifted away, time passed, and I didn't touch it at all. I just stumbled across it a few days ago, and figured that maybe posting what I have of it so far will be enough to inspire me to complete it. That means that yes, feedback will be very nice indeed.

Also, I'm looking for a beta-reader, someone who can hopefully not only look out for my various mistakes, but help me with the characterization of the characters later on, something I'm not feeling terribly confident about now. Anyone interested? Drop me an email, and we'll talk. : )