All the Things You Never Knew:
Part Five
By: Kitty E.
Duo stepped quietly into the Hall, Heero didn't always appreciate uninvited visits, and it was best to observe him for a moment before speaking. He found his eldest brother, jewel of his father's eye simply by default, sitting at a table and staring silently at a wine bottle. Duo stood back against the wall, trying to figure out just what had gotten Heero so lost, the drink, or the thoughts he currently pondered. Jerking into motion, Heero poured another glass and downed it in three quick gulps.
"Spending the night alone, Heero?" he spoke quickly, finishing before the last of the wine was swallowed. He thought it best to open with his usual inappropriate, but disarming banter.
Heero looked at him darkly, and then returned to his careful contemplation of the bottle and goblet before him.
Duo pushed off from the wall, knowing the lack of gruff reproof was the only invitation he'd get. "I suppose Relena is still keeping her legs shut even after the engagement, then?"
Heero snorted, but still opted to remain silent. As Duo sat, he found a glass in front of him, and was almost touched. Heero had never shown any interest in the engaging in the traditional types of male bonding, caring nothing for hunting, boozing, or bragging. He accepted the offer, but swore to himself not to take enough to dull his senses. "Surely you're not regretting it? No better bride could be found in-"
"She's a good woman," Heero said haltingly, sounding displeased.
For a moment, Duo thought he'd over stepped his bounds, but he realized he was not the object of discontent. His brow furrowed as he searched for the hidden meaning in Heero's statement, then went smooth when he chuckled. "And that's precisely the problem, isn't it? She's *not* refusing you?"
"No challenge, everything I say is agreed with, everything I do, commended. Lifeless, going through the motion."
"You'd prefer a hellcat?" Duo asked.
"I grew to like it," Heero said wryly. His smug expression lasted only a moment before fading into the same lost look Duo had first observed. Heero poured a drink for himself first, and then one for Duo.
"That so?" Duo inquired, carefully, but Heero caught the implied meaning even in his state of inebriation.
"You have no idea how much he hated me," Heero noted, mostly to himself and the goblet in his hand. He did not bother to name the person he spoke of, they both knew. "He knew to blame me for everything, especially for the fate of his family. I gave his sisters to the men, God knows there were enough of them to satisfy an army, let alone the battalion that subdued them. Something about the bloodline... every one of them was a rare beauty. Blonde, and fair, a kind of inherited frail look about them that's wholly misleading. They don't simply lie down and accept anything. When I came to inspect the camp men had scratches down their face and necks, they must of put up a terrible fight, those girls, and I'm certain they still do. Quatre was the same, but he knew better to fight back physically, he saw the beatings his sisters got for their fire. He chose to fight with words, dear God, the things he would say."
Duo sat back with his wine, taking in the rare sights and sounds of his eldest brother speaking without prompt. He could tell Heero was reliving something, but whether it was a mistake or a triumph he could not say.
"It wasn't traditional curses, either, nothing so harmless as anything that invoked his God. He would stare at me hard, and say that I was weak, that all my power, and wealth were just things that disguised an ordinary man. What can you say to something like that?"
Duo smirked, "You could have at least told him to shut up."
"I didn't want to," Heero sighed. "He knew how to control me, from the moment he knew he was to be my concubine, he knew how to manipulate me. You think I never slapped him for what he said? Never lifted a hand like you do? Whenever I did, he punished me, become unresponsive make it harder to find pleasure, but when I let him speak his mind he gladly showed me the extent of his... knowledge."
"Are you sore about losing him?" Duo asked, leaning forward again.
Heero looked vaguely surprised, "You know about that?"
Duo laughed, his brother truly must have been drunk for him to have forgotten this. "He was taken from you and given to me, I should think I know something about it."
Heero shook his head, and waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind it. He's using you, too, though not in the same way. "
"No," Duo said, a little too forcefully. "I doubt that."
Heero said nothing in reply, lapsing into silence again. Duo brooded a moment, then spoke again. "You still crave a challenge?"
Heero nodded absently, and poured himself a third drink, despite looking as though he found it distasteful now.
"Well, I've had little brother do some research," Duo began, his tone that of absolute business. "There's a people South of Quatre's homeland, simple, but rich, much like the Midians, but far less peaceful. Perhaps, now that you control the whole of their Northern border, you could launch another invasion."
"Relena said she didn't want me to lead anymore campaigns," Heero said merely as observation.
"Perhaps she'll grow to hate you because of it." Duo let a good-natured laugh echo through the hall, one careful eye on Heero's expression, measuring the response.
"Perhaps..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Upon the bed lay an exotic prize, shining black hair, slanted black eyes, and skin that remained bronzed even in the dead of winter. It was clear he had been bought for display, and yet he was kept almost a complete secret from even the castle's inner court. Currently, he had full ownership of the bed and was stretched across it, the blanket draped low over his unclad back. He slept soundly, but still exuded a kind of control few other slaves, even Quatre, could get away with. He stirred as the door to the inner chamber was flung open, Prince Duo rushing in behind it. Wufei shifted to regard the other boy carefully; he looked for all the world like someone who had nowhere else to run. Finally halted, Duo buried his face in his hands, still trying to hide from himself, the one thing he had never learned to avoid. He started forward, blind and almost stumbling, making his way to the bed.
Wufei was ready to catch him, taking Duo's wrists into his hands and tugging them down. He stared at Duo's exposed face, almost as if inspecting it, but said nothing of what he found.
"Wufei, I-" he voice broke suddenly, and at last he fell, crumpling to his knees beside the bed.
Gentle, knowing fingers worked their way into the crown of Duo's hair, massaging so expertly that no tension could build as Duo struggled not to cry. "Master," he said softly, both comforting and demanding attention. He waited for a response, and then continued. "Master, don't cry for him-"
"I'm not!" Duo snapped fiercely.
"Then why are you troubled?" he asked sharply. "Do you regret? Or did you fail?"
Duo shook his head, but could not reply. Wufei was quiet, cradling Duo's head in his lap now, and waiting for him to regain control. He hands left Duo's hair, and stroked his cheek softly, before moving to grip Duo's shoulders.
"I didn't fail," the prince said softly, reluctant to disturb the quiet, both in the room, and within himself. "It was almost too easy, in fact. He doesn't want to be here, he never wants to be here... the only thing that kept him from another campaign was Relena's insistence and Quatre's charms. He thinks he can see the future that was stretched out before him, but he doesn't know."
"Doesn't know that he will get what he deserves, they all will, sire, but him first. His *must* be the first blood," Wufei's voice was unbending.
"He's my brother," Duo moaned. "He's my own flesh and blood, my comrade, we are friends."
"Were," Wufei corrected, he slid of the bed, but made no move to cover himself. He moved about the room with confident movements, filling the basin, and pulling out Duo's nightclothes. "What of it? Heero's future *is* stretched out before him, and it does not include you. You will be forgotten, your children will be forgotten, is that what you want?"
Duo shook his head, sighing heavily. Wufei knelt beside him, and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. "But, there must be some other way."
"Politics?" Wufei asked, tugging off the shirt and taking the jacket with it. "Make an alliance with someone and you become their equal, and that is *not* what you want. You, master, *you* were meant to rule this land, and so it shall be, but it will not come easily," he left the old clothes for the chambermaid to collect in the morning. Standing up, he moved behind Duo and began to carefully unbraid the prince's hair. "Relinquish your power, or betray your blood, it's your choice. You can always stop this, Heero has only agreed to leave the safety of the castle walls, but at any moment you can send word to halt the assassin we've arranged for. What shall it be, sire?"
The prince was quiet as his hair was brushed and loosely tamed with a ribbon, "I don't know... but surely you agree that there is something wrong-sinful about killing your own brother?" he asked softly.
Wufei stood, and rounded the prince once more, this time pulling Duo onto his feet. "You still think of him as your brother? Even when you know? You know there's no love to be found in this fake family, you two are barely even comrades, as you say." He pressed his lips together, and met Duo's eyes knowing it was a dangerous move to threaten his master's authority but finding it necessary as he said, "Even comrades know when to stick together, and when is the time to few only for oneself."
Duo's mouth opened, but he emitted only a pained noise as his throat constricted. "Dammit," he swore, the first harsh sob almost stealing his voice again. "They've always- always hated me."
Wufei pulled him close, cradling Duo's head upon his shoulder and rocking the both of them gently as he listened to Duo's breathing. An expert at finding the right moment, he pulled away only when he knew Duo would listen. "*I* love you, even if they don't, remember that. I suggested this only because I care deeply about what happens to you, but if it causes you too much pain-"
"No," Duo said resolutely. "It doesn't but, Wufei... Wufei, help me forget what I've done. I can't face it, not right now."
Wufei flashed a knowing smile, and nimble fingers began working off the last of the prince's clothes. "Of course," he whispered softly. "It's what I'm here for after all."
Duo's kisses were limp at first, but Wufei attended to that as efficiently as he did any task. He soon found himself crowded onto the bed, Duo attacking with a kind of ecstatic desperation. Wufei led his master even then, gently persuading Duo to think of him and rewarding every touch with one of his own. Troubled, violet eyes slid shut and did not open again as regret was swallowed by passion. Wufei let his own eyes close, but kept a guiding hand on Duo's shoulders. The little smile on his lips was broken frequently by quick gasps, but never once did his control waver.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quatre was surrounded by blue, above and below, and as far as any discernible horizon, there was only blue. He was untroubled though, one shade of blue he recognized as the sky, the other as the sand. He continued to walk aimlessly and without a clear direction, just following his feet. Eventually, the color washed out of the sand, leaving it almost white under the new dawning light. A little later, he came upon a camp, footsteps slowing to leave the occupants undisturbed. He thought about going on, but felt compelled to stop, strangers were rare in the desert and they might need help. He blinked, realizing that it was he who was alone and without supplies.
Two bedrolls were laid out, one on either side of a dying fire, but the first was empty. Quatre slowly stepped around it to the blanket-cocooned body resting on the other side. Carefully, he moved close enough to see the person's face and identify him as friend or foe. He stared for a long moment at the youthful, tanned face, but it was almost as if he was looking straight through it, not registering a single detail until a shock of recognition passed through him. He fell to his knees, rocking back and forth as he struggled to comprehend. Akhem, God, it can't be. It just can't be, I never saw him again after that day.
He sucked in a sharp breath as the only believable explanation came to him, A dream, then... but which is the dream? I can't remember. Straddling two realities, he was unable to distinguish which was the illusion. He struggled over it for a time, then looked over at the empty bedroll. I must have woken up while still in the dream, that's why it feels so real. He sat back on his feet, and worked through the possibilities. He had never been conscious of a dream without waking up soon after realizing, sighing softly he concluded, he was not dreaming.
Akhem was still with him, alive and safe for the time being. Vaguely, Quatre wondered if the dream was prophetic, a newfound gift like the warnings his heart had given. Presently, he decided he could not let Akhem follow in his father's footsteps. Rashid had many scars from the bitter fight over land with other tribes. It wouldn't take much, he just needs to know I want him by my side forever. He knew just how to do that, but was still unsure if he had remembered, or dreamed the method. Balancing carefully over Akhem, he spirited a kiss across his friend's parted lips, tongue darting out for a first, brief taste. It feels like a first kiss, he thought, quite relieved. Pulled away sharply, he turned his back before his friend could wake.
In the shifting perspective of a dream, he saw Akhem blink open his eyes and unconsciously lick his lips. A surprised gaze fell on Quatre, and he let out a soft chuckle as he sat up. Quatre kept his back turned, suddenly overcome with anxiety. Akhem was his only friend if, he had ruined this, he'd be alone.
"You're bad at lying, you'll have to do better than that, " Akhem said as he moved to sit next to Quatre.
"But I haven't said a word," Quatre murmured.
"Body language is still language," Akhem observed, he leaned to one side, resting his chin on Quatre shoulder so that his lips were right next to the blonde's ear. They always told their secrets this way, though they did not have many, for no words could be lost or overheard while so close. "You'd like me to think that you didn't kiss me, why?"
"Idiot," Quatre replied hoarsely. "You must have been dreaming."
"You know, it's possible," Akhem, still not moving away. Quatre shivered as the breath of each word passed over the back of his neck. "I dream about that a lot. I just thought you-" He paused as Quatre shifted to look at him, he smirked, "But I guess I was wrong, eh?"
Quatre opened his mouth to respond, but was tackled before any more could be said. Between tussles for dominance, there were bursts of laughter and inexpert kisses, the seriousness of the moment was made inconsequential, easing the doubt and fears each boy had held in for too long. Quatre never sensed the change in time or place but when he opened his eyes he found himself in an oasis. He didn't care to puzzle over this though, arching his back against the warm hands moving slowly down his spine.
Standing water was a rare treat, but the bath they'd come to take was forsaken for the rare chance to explore past the boundaries they knew too well. Their kiss broke and for a moment they only stared at each other, Quatre gripping the other boys shoulders to remain steady as Akhem's fingers moved to hips. They halted, but Quatre moved even closer, encouraging them to move even further.
"Quatre?" came his nurse's voice, far off, but coming closer.
They pushed apart, swimming away from each other until they were at an unsuspicious distance. Quatre turned to catch the look on Akhem's face, but didn't see him. He twisted about in the water but could not find his friend. He wiped his eyes dry, but opened them to another place and time.
His father's camp sprawled across the desert to accommodate a large tribe, the largest in all the land in fact. There was something wrong, most of the tents were collapsed, trampled under heavy boots, and galloping hooves. Every man old enough to fight was dead or dying. Their blood soaked straight into the sand and disappeared like spilled water. They were silent, unmoving, and so Quatre knew the screams he heard were his sisters'. He listened to them for as long as he could stand it, at once comforted and horrified. They never stopped, cries of pain, yes, but not that of dying. Rape. Twenty-nine prized brides, many already engaged, were now whores. He tried to shift but was too tightly tied to one of the tent poles still standing.
He wondered if his father was dead, if his old nurse had been able to save his eldest sister's child. He did not wonder what tomorrow would bring; if death had not come today it would not come until his body gave out, be it from grief or hard labor. He closed his eyes, and unconsciously tried to curl into a ball, but was stopped by the ropes once more. He felt them pulled taut, and panicked. "Who's there?"
There came only a harsh whisper, "Shut up!" The ropes were tugged at again by someone was trying to loosen them.
"Akhem?" Quatre breathed.
"For the love of God, don't bring attention to me, I only need a moment to get these loose."
"What then? Dammit, go!" Quatre hissed. "Idiot, you think they won't notice me gone? They're setting up camp, they won't hesitate to send out a search party. Save yourself, go!"
"I can't, you know that." The rope around Quatre's hands fell away, but there were two sets left to work through.
"Idiot," Quatre raised his voice, and Akhem's fingers went slack with fear. "Don't make this harder. Please, just go."
"I can't..." Akhem said, softly. A little louder, he revealed, "I love you."
"Don't say that," Quatre pleaded, he started to cry in spite of himself, one tear falling down the length of his cheek before the others followed. "Don't say that now, it's too late. Idiot, can't you see it's over. Go. There's nothing left for you and me just go!"
The words echoed in Quatre's ears and he hated it. He'd missed his chance to say it, to really tell Akhem the depth of his feelings, but nothing would have come of it. One or both them would have ended up dead, it was easier to just accept what fate had dealt them. A sob escaped from Quatre's chest as Akhem's hands left him, the sound of his blood thudding through his veins masked the sound of scuffling feet. He couldn't even turn to watch him leave.
"Go."
~~~~~~~~
Quatre nearly flung himself out of bed as he sat up, but stilled himself when he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. He felt movement on his left side, but knew who it was almost before he turned to regard him. Trowa was stretching beside him, roused by Quatre's sudden movement. He stared back at Quatre drowsily for a moment, before seeming to snap awake.
Quatre grinned broadly, pushing all memory of the dream from his mind. "I wonder how late is?" he mused. He threw one leg over Trowa's hips and settled on them, "Do you think they missed you at breakfast?" He nibbled carefully on the strong cords of muscle on Trowa's, following them down to his collarbone. "Perhaps it's still early yet, we could skip the morning ride for... a different kind of one." He pulled the blanket a little lower down Trowa's chest to continue his path, but was stopped when Trowa sat up.
"It's late," he said, in explanation, waiting for Quatre to move.
"Then there's no need to rush," Quatre said, obstinately. He leaned against Trowa's chest, the other boy supporting them both with two arms planted on the bed. "Or are your fears confirmed? Do you regret it?"
Trowa shook his head softly, "That's a large part of the problem."
Quatre sat back, confused and searching for an answer in Trowa's eyes. "Why does everything you say have to be a riddle? How can that be a problem?"
Trowa looked away, "It just is. I didn't want to... to ever go this far with you, because I think I'm in love with you."
Reflexively, Quatre closed his eyes, and sagged a little, for some reason the words almost hurt. Not opening his eyes, he pushed Trowa back to the bed, and rested his head on his shoulder. There was a long moment of silence as Quatre tried to push past his own confusion and focus on how to respond. "That's a very cruel thing to say. You say you love me, but you don't have your whole heart behind it." Trowa's arms loosened a little, almost falling away from Quatre's shoulders as he spoke. "Do you *really* know what those words mean? If you loved me, Trowa, you would never choose a path simply because it is easier, or more respectful. If you loved me you'd do whatever you could to be with me. You'd kill and die for me, punish any man who slighted me. You would do anything for me, just because I asked."
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
"It's all right," Quatre replied. He sat up, leaning over Trowa. "But now that you know... do you love me?"
Trowa took a breath to speak, but found no real words. He exhaled, and tried again, "I don't know."
Quatre nodded, "Neither do I, but we'll find out soon. Until then-" he was cut off by a knock at the door.
"Sire? You are needed in the King's throne room." The voice of the page was clear, indicating he'd opened the door a little. Quatre shifted, rolling off of Trowa, and staying out of sight.
"Very well," Trowa sighed, sounding a little annoyed. "You may tell him I'm coming."
"Yes, sire," he said, and one could almost see him bowing as he shut the door.
Groaning softly, Trowa sat up again, and forced himself out of bed. He began to dress, "I'll be back."
Quatre smiled, and settled back under the covers, "I'll be waiting."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part Six
~OR~