All the Things You Never Knew:
Part Eight
By: Kitty E.
Heero's absence all but put a halt to the normal duties in Kalea's capitol. Left to his own devices, Quatre found himself 'required' in some way by Trowa almost every night, but he did not mind. He took pleasure in the play now, even though the nagging knowledge of its illusion still remained in the back of his mind, it was easier to ignore. He was able to enjoy being cherished so completely, and increasingly he found himself happy that it was Trowa. A month had now passed and Quatre had found no flaw to repel him, uncovered no reason to despise him, nor withstood any slight that made him resent Trowa. Never admitting to the thought, but always feeling it somewhere within him, he knew that Trowa was someone he *could* fall in love with, if only circumstances had been different.
They lay in bed one night, they had not made love, and Quatre did not suspect that they would. It pleased and frightened him that he had been called up simply for conversation, to be held close and asked for his opinion. Trowa took up almost the full length of the bed, stretched out on his back with one hand behind his head, and the other stroking over Quatre's cheek in a now familiar gesture. Quatre lay on his stomach, fitted into the crook of Trowa's arm, one leg slipped between his knees. He smiled, and turned his face quickly for one quick kiss upon the palm, and was rewarded with a few slow, measured kisses.
"You know, people are starting to ask questions," Trowa said absently, as if it hardly seemed worth the breath.
"Your father?" Quatre asked apprehensively. He was so close to being able to ask Trowa for his freedom, Please, God, don't let it end just yet. It's so close.
Trowa shook his head, "He'd never care enough to ask." He shrugged, "Just people, Relena's Ladies in Waiting for instance."
Quatre was quiet as he thought this through, "We haven't really been trying to be discreet. What is said means nothing to them, only what is done-"
"And we have done an awful lot," Trowa said with a half smile.
Quatre blinked, "What's that?" He caught his prince's eyes and felt a strange, giddy feeling, and so he looked away.
Trowa looked confused, he sighed softly before saying, "I don't see why we should hide, it's not as if suddenly having you sneak in from now on will change what has been said, or what will be said. Better it be you than horses."
"Horses?"
Trowa seemed embarrassed, and coughed uncomfortably, "If I recall correctly, there was a rather nasty rumor about my grandfather and his horses..."
Quatre caught his laugh a second too late, but Trowa let it pass. Gently, he laid his blonde head on Trowa's shoulder, he took a few slow breaths, and asked, "You're sure I'm so much better than horses?"
"I am," his prince replied assuredly. "I'm not ashamed of myself or my choices now, and especially not of you, Quatre."
For years after, Quatre's reaction would surprise even him. Before he had the chance to think, his throat constricted and his eyes began to shine. He swallowed forcibly and fought the tears, but when at last his mind caught up with his body, there was no resisting. *I* have always been ashamed... of myself, he sighed painfully and felt one tear slip free from a tightly shut, turquoise eye.
"Quatre?" Trowa asked, but he did not hear, curling around himself to provide some sort of protection to the battered, and beaten soul that continually dared to show itself to Trowa. He was pulled along as Trowa sat up, and held close with one arm as his tears were smoothed away. He swallowed again, but this time to find the strength to speak. He wanted to tell Trowa, to have his fears and secrets understood and explained away. He knew somehow that Trowa would be able to say something, or stroke his hair in such a way as to make the world seem all right again.
"You have to understand that if my family knows, I've been disowned already. My uncle... if I was ever freed and made it home, wouldn't even consider letting me through his door. It's different where I come from, to go with another man is to go against God. Only the very wicked would submit to it, even enjoy it sometimes." His eyes began to trace over the patterns embroidered on the blanket. "I was never watched very well, I might have killed myself long ago, or tried to run away, but I haven't. I've never been so desperate, and that is the sin."
Trowa said nothing for a long time, before finally just shaking his head softly. "It's not like that at all, Quatre." He seemed at a loss to reply and sighed, "I won't ask you to look on all this as a source of pride, but if you think it is a sin, or something shameful, then you see something shameful in me. Because *I* don't regret, Quatre... not now."
Quatre smiled, and settled closer to Trowa, "Sometimes... sometimes I don't really know what it is I'm ashamed of now."
Trowa nodded, and started to say something before a yawn took over his features. Quatre chuckled softly and kissed Trowa's forehead quickly before starting to remove himself from the bed. He was stopped by a forceful hand, "I'd like you to stay," Trowa whispered sleepily.
"But you're tired," Quatre chided.
"I know," Trowa stretched out across the bed again, "But stay if only for tonight. I have an inkling the maids will start trying to come early and catch us soon."
Quatre laughed a little, and kicked off his shoes, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. There was a long moment of shifting, and hesitance as both boys tried to find a comfortable position, finally with Quatre on his side, and Trowa pressed behind, he snuffed the candle on the nightstand and left the room to moonlight. Quatre spent a few tense moments listening to Trowa's breathing, and then relaxed into the loose embrace. I'd stopped thinking of him as a stranger until just now, Quatre watched the last bit of ghostly smoke from the candle disappear into the night. We've shared too many secrets with each other to be strangers, too much I think to even be just friends. He did not like where this line of thought was taking him, but until sleep chose to fog his mind he could not let it go. He wanted to laugh at himself, The plans you thought of while he was nobody to you are now going to be carried out on a friend. He closed his eyes and willed fatigue to claim him, But then, virtue is something I can no longer afford, isn't it?
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Bells were invading Quatre's dream and he did not like it, he was home again, but a very small boy, it was a time of feasting, but everything felt off. His relatives acted strangely, as if they could not see him, and he was trying to understand why, but the bells were distracting him. They grew steadily louder until frustration caused him to blink open his eyes, and then he was awake. The bells were real, he discovered, resounding through the palace as though Armageddon were raining down outside.
A quick glance to the window confirmed that it wasn't, and a second glance to Trowa revealed he wasn't the only one hearing them. Trowa sat up stiffly, a look of panic on his face, "Andrea? St. Andrea?"
Quatre frowned and pushed himself up from the soft bed, and warm sheets to better look at him. "What is it?" The bells rang three times in succession and then stopped.
"St. Andrea, they... only ring their bells like that if someone has died... someone of royal blood," he frowned tightly and flung himself out of bed. "I have to go and see who it is, Quatre, I'll be back." He grabbed a night robe, and left without a further word.
Quatre sat back in wonder, the Barton family was small, he supposed even a second cousin deserved the funerary rights afforded their relatives. It didn't have to be important, he decided, and would probably turn out to be just another inconvenience with a funeral to be arranged, and condolences to be sent. He looked out the window, and tried to remember if it was a new moon tonight, he gave up eventually, and decided that morning was still a ways off. He would wait until Trowa came back to leave, but until then he let sleep reclaim him, but he could not enjoy it as he slipped into a dream about his mother's death.
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Duo sat in repose, a delicate look of grief upon his features, he didn't dare run the risk of some slave seeing him in any other state than what was appropriate for a brother in mourning. Heero was dead, and there was a proper amount of shock, his father was shattered, and Trowa locked into a kind of confusion as he reconciled this into his reality.
He didn't like knowing that his brother was dead, and hated the fact that it was by his own wishes, if not by his own hands, but it was easier to deal with now that it could not be taken back. Guilty or not he could not deny he was in a favorable position and that brought him great comfort. A crack formed in his mask, a half smile quickly tamed, if Wufei's plans for tonight worked out he wouldn't even have his younger brother to worry about.
~~~~~~~~
Quatre was silent, he had no words to offer and it did not seem like Trowa wanted any. Still, he knew somehow his presence was needed, and he was more than willing to offer it. He tried not to think of Heero, it gave him a peculiar ache and filled him with regret. He did not wish things had ended differently, nor that he had gone with Heero, but he mourned, in his own little way. He watched Trowa carefully as he ate, but was subtle about it. He waited for any sign that he was needed, any opportunity to sweep in and finally find a way to comfort Trowa.
A knock sounded at the door, and Quatre was quick to get up and silence it. He started to swing open the door, to let whatever duke or lord it was annoy Trowa with his condolences only because he had to. He paused, and stared at the person at the other side of the door, half in hate, half in horror.
Wufei smirked, and quietly announced, "Prince Duo wants you... now."
Quatre's flashed a deadly look by accident then shut the door firmly without saying whether he'd return. "Trowa," he slipped his arms around Trowa's shoulders quickly, "I have to go, but I'll be back." Trowa nodded, and allowed Quatre a quick kiss before he left.
~~~~~~~~
Quatre was led into Duo's chambers, cringing at the unpleasant familiarity of the rooms. Duo beckoned him with a crooked finger, and gritting his teeth Quatre obeyed. Wufei left immediately, hurrying off to some unknown business. Quatre had turned to watch him leave, and was caught by surprise as Duo tugged his shirt sharply, losing his balance, and falling to his knees.
"Heero is dead, did you know that?" Duo asked, his tone was impossibly neutral.
Quatre frowned in confusion, "Of course." Is there anybody in Kalea that *doesn't* know?
"Of course, what?"
"Of course, master." Quatre had forgotten how much Duo reveled in the archaic term.
Duo seemed smug for a moment, then hesitated over his next question, "And... what are your thoughts? He was your first master, right? The one who broke you?"
Quatre would have liked to insist that he had never been broken, but instead he only nodded, "I can't say that I will miss him, but I do mourn."
Duo nodded absently, "Heero's unexpected death has put an end to my work, I don't need you to distract Trowa any longer. You're free from him. But I haven't yet decided about what I'll do with you now."
~~~~~~~~
Trowa looked up in an annoyance as a second knock disturbed his introspection. Getting up, he looked to see who would dare bother him this late, the oriental slave he'd seen with Duo ages ago greeted him with a bow.
"My apologies for disturbing you, my lord, but I believe Prince Duo requires your audience."
~~~~~~~~
Quatre's eyes went wide, and though he was afraid to let Duo know that this was important for fear of being rejected merely on the principle, he did not dare seem nonchalant. Duo would never reward calm reserve, he was expecting a show of desperation, to be begged, all that remained to be seen was just how much he was wanted. "Please, master, just let me stay with him."
Duo's distraction faded as he recognized the chance to play, "Eh? And why is that?"
Quatre sighed softly, he did not care to answer, and he suspected Duo was already well aware of his intentions. "What use am I to you now, master? You have a slave already, one better than myself I think, why bother with me?"
He recoiled imperceptibly as thin fingers slipped through his hair, "Perhaps. But tell me, *why* should I let such a prize be handed down to my little brother?"
Quatre clenched his teeth, "You know, you must know... master."
Duo glanced up, and saw the door was cracked, Wufei was waiting. "Tell me in your own words, Quatre. Wufei doesn't care for you much, perhaps he made it sound more sinister than you intended."
~~~~~~~~
Trowa frowned at the oriental slave again, but he didn't seem to notice. God, it's just like Duo to bring me here to wait.
He heard Quatre's name spoken, and first looked to the slave in confusion and then to the chamber door. Duo's voice continued, "-Care for you much, perhaps he made it sound more sinister than you intended."
There was a long pause as Quatre measured his response, "I had hoped, as I had with all of my masters, to my freedom by... making them care enough for me to end my bondage. I don't have much power now, but I can be wanted, and it doesn't take much to cross the line from to desire to adoration."
Trowa was still for a long moment, all at once aware of and forgetful of his observer. Unconsciously, he lifted a hand to his mouth, and pressed closer. With every bone in his body he prayed that he had misunderstood.
"Not just care... to love you," Duo sounded smug. "You are asking me to let you go and break my brother's heart."
"No," Quatre insisted. For a brief moment, hope sparked in Trowa's eyes, but died as Quatre continued. "It won't be like that, he doesn't have to know about this."
Trowa turned away sharply, brushing shoulders with Wufei but he did not pause in his retreat. Duo let the time he took for consideration stretch out longer than was needed, and then smiled a very cruel smile. "You're right. I have no use for you, in fact it would be a relief in my mind to see you gone from here." Quatre tensed, "But I won't grant you freedom myself, it would be an injustice to your great plan... you've started it, and you shall finish it." Quatre started to stand, but was violently jerked back to his knees. "Don't I deserve a goodbye kiss?"
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Quatre pushed open the door slowly, swallowing again to remove the last of Duo's taste from the back of his mouth. He had forgotten what it felt like to be used, his mind had gladly hidden it away, as though he'd never have to worry about it again. He was eager to see Trowa now that there was nothing else for him to do, to keep him tied to the Palace, or Barton family. He could ask for freedom as soon as he was assured his request would be accepted. He had thought Trowa would be asleep by now, and started towards to inner chamber, but stopped short when he saw Trowa at his desk, his face buried in both of his hands. He had been melancholy ever since he'd heard of his brother's death, but something in the air felt different, told Quatre that he was not simply mourning. "Trowa?"
Quatre saw how quickly the shoulders had tensed, almost as if Trowa wanted to make himself smaller. "Don't call me that," he ordered, suddenly and firmly. He sighed, and added softly, "Please, not now."
He paused, having already started towards Trowa, after a moment of consideration he continued. Scarcely had his hands been placed on Trowa's shoulders before he was shoved away by a blind hand. "Don't touch me, dammit!" He sat up finally, and focused his eyes on Quatre. He wondered if it was only shock in Quatre's expression or perhaps some amount of hurt from being pushed away, then looked away, back to his desk. He took a deep breath, and spat out his practiced line, "I don't want you here anymore."
Quatre gasped, wincing internally. "Why? What have I done?" His mind flew into a panic, but he waited for Trowa's answer, knowing he could not explain a thing until he understood the problem.
Trowa snorted, "It's no use now, Quatre, your lies. I know, I should have known from the start, but..." He trailed off, closing his eyes tightly as if against an unseen, profusely bleeding wound.
He felt sick now, and swayed with a sudden weakness, as though he would fall to the floor, but he held himself up. His mind was hurled into a spiral, Trowa knew his plans, had been told or overheard what he had intended. He tried in vain to calm himself, to think clearly, but there was no source of hope now, no lie, or emotion he could exploit. He could only plead with Trowa until his punishment was handed down, and so he tried desperately to do so. "Trowa-"
"I said not to call me that, you don't have the right. You didn't have the right to- God, just take what you want and go." He swept a bit of folded paper off his desk, and it fell against Quatre's leg, and then to the floor.
Quatre stared at for a long time, making sure no rule would be broken as he quietly picked it up and unfolded it. His eyes fell over the words, but he could understand only a few of them. "What is this?" He felt afraid to ask, but he had to know.
"Your freedom, Quatre," the words were spoken with so little emotion, the blonde ached with pity.
Quatre bit his hand to keep from making a sound, any word or cry would be cruel, but he could not deny that what he held in his hand was the one thing he had thought of since his capture. He started to ask Trowa to read it, but quickly thought better of it. Free from his fear of punishment, he read it again and understood more. It said in simple terms that his time of servitude was over, and that he was to be given a horse but nothing else. That which was written by royal hands could not be disputed, and the prince's seal finished off the paper. He swallowed, and looked up from the paper to Trowa, he had turned away again, supporting his head with one hand, and staring at was before him without seeing any of it.
He felt obligated to say something, but he had no idea as to what could possibly be appropriate. After some thought he settled on, "I didn't want it to be like this, I wasn't hoping to hurt you."
Trowa swallowed, and shook his head, "It's useless, Quatre, just go."
Quatre lingered a moment, the decree clutched tightly to his chest, but his eyes on Trowa. Slowly, he turned, and went for the door. He struggled again with the desire to explain, but left without another word. Illusions don't really end, he told himself, as he moved through the halls like a ghost. Fake feelings don't cause real pain. He had only a small bag, and he stuffed as many clothes as was possible into it. For a moment, he managed to distract himself with deciding how best to hide the few bits of gold and jewelry he had received over time, but when that was finished, his trouble returned.
It was evil, I know, I always knew, to trick him like that, but it's worked hasn't it? The bag slung over his shoulder, he looked again the paper in his hands. I shouldn't regret that he found out this way, the day of my freedom has come, I can go home. It was already quite dark, but he had not far to go to reach the city that lay just beyond the sprawling estate, and hunting grounds. He was given his horse, but for some reason he could not meet the eyes of the stable hand that bid him goodbye. The farther he got from the palace, the easier it became, and the less his heart felt sick at what he was doing.
He found a dark pub to sit in, neither ordering anything, nor asking for a room. Just waiting until the time came that he would be ordered out, and then he would sleep just outside the door. As many times as he tried to think of how he would make it home, of the chances of being welcomed back with open arms, his mind persisted at trying to reconcile Trowa's words to his actions. If he hated me now, or was angry, why would he give me this? I can't believe he'd be so magnanimous as to give away the very thing that led me to hurt him. He stared at the decree in his hands, but was too preoccupied with other thoughts to really notice it. If he were hurt, if his love was true, how could he give me away without a single tear?
He knew it was foolish, like looking a gift horse in the mouth, but he wanted to know why. Tired of himself and his fixations, he looked for something less troublesome to think about, and found the paper in front of him. For the first time, in the light of the cheap candle at the table, he saw the irregularity in the paper, smudges, and spots where the ink had smeared but after drying. Oh God, he felt a harsh weight settle on his chest. He did cry, didn't he? He sighed, the entire paper was laced with Trowa's tears. And I'm the one to blame. He rested his forehead on his clasped hands, I took the one person in the world who truly loved me and exploited him for my gain.
Quatre sat back, and looked at the candle, but his eyes began to water and he was forced to look away. And so ask yourself, the one thing you afraid to think of when you left, do you? He closed his eyes, Do you love him? He knew his answer, he did, and there was no denying it. All the remained was to decide by between, embracing it as the truth, or explaining it away. He struggled over this until the red-faced tavern owner asked him to pay for a room or leave. It's too late to go back to him, now, he thought as he settled against the eastern wall and wrapped his cloak tightly around him. We'll see what the morning brings.
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Part Nine