Title: Portentum
Author: ArlenSayos
Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters in it
Story Focus: Quatre and Trowa
Story Pairings: 3x4, 1xR, 2xH, 5xM and many more in the near future
Chapter Pairings: None
Story Warnings: Both yaoi and hetero relationships
Chapter Warnings: Random character appearances
AN: Yikes! Sorry for the slow update, guys! Its crunch time at school (since I'm both in 12th grade and nearing the end of another semester XX) so I've been really busy lately. I was hoping to get some more of this story completed during Spring Break, but I had to go down to Vancouver (drive, not fly) for vacation. Good news though; while down there I applied to the Art Institute of Burnaby Vancouver and… got accepted! Now all I have to do is hope that I pass this semester of school and I'll be set. XX
Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed and/or added me to their favorite/alert lists! I've decided that I'm going to wait at least until I have five reviews for each chapter before posting more, though. I tend to write so much (not on purpose though, I just never know when to end a chapter) that I just want to make sure Portentum's attracted a decently sized audience before continuing. If that doesn't happen I'll still probably keep updating, it'll just be a bit of a let down, you know? lol, I think I've become too attached to this story to just… stop.
There's an 'interlude' here to catch you all up on what's been happening in Kumania. I guess you don't have to read it, but I'd certainly suggest it. If you'd like to skip it just scroll down till you hit the first chapter break, that'll take you back to everyone in Anila.
Anyway, enjoy!
-Portentum-
Chapter Two
-Interlude-
Drake never had been very talkative. On the contrary, he preferred to speak as little as possible. He didn't think himself too good to associate with those around him, nor did he believe himself to be a shy fellow that would rather spend his time twiddling his fingers in the corner of a room then talking with someone of interest. Yes, the real reason Drake constantly hurled himself into the realm of perpetual silence was because of his job position. It frustrated him to the bridge of screaming insanely numerous times, due to both the heavy work load and mildly disorderly group of knights at his disposal, and at times the guard captain felt like taking his own life in order to end his seemingly never ending misery. Of course, that was before he discovered that cutting out all forms of speech, even his own, was a marvelous way of venting stress and anger.
Where had he gone wrong? Drake had started out with so much potential... He was a noble by birth, born into a long line of knights that had served Satulurain for eons. He had entered the strictest of apprenticeships at the age of eight and had become an honorary sword master at the age of fifteen. A year later he was quickly emitted into the royal guard, and after achieving an outstanding number of successful missions he was knighted. Afterwards he had quickly began to climb the ranks, becoming 1st lieutenant by the age of seventeen, and now, three years later, he not only held the seat of Third Royal Knight of Satulurain, but Captain of the Royal Guards as well.
Yet what did he find himself doing on duty half the time? He certainly wasn't outside, battling dragons and saving damsels like in the days of old. No, Drake found himself either at his desk, sorting through various papers that needed his signature or stamp of approval… or babysitting a bunch of rowdy knights. One would assume that his 1st and 2nd lieutenants would have been of some help, but, to be blunt, the two of them were far worse then the lot put together. If anything, they provoked poor behavior, acting the way they did. Delio wasn't all that terrible; he tried to keep out of trouble for his own well being, but he certainly didn't do anything to keep the lesser knights and swordsmen in order either, and Corbin? His jewelry and clothes must have filled his wits with whip cream; though vastly intelligent, he sure didn't act it… the damn boy was 2nd lieutenant but behaved as though he had the authority of a whore, flirting with everyone no matter their preference… Drake included.
One should not mistake the Captain for a homophobic nitwit; he just liked his space… and his silence, which was possibly the only reason why he was taking the Lady Catherine's latest order so well. It wasn't everyday the royal prince vanished without a trace, and although the Lady Catherine was assured that her brother wasn't the victim of a kidnapping, he needed to be found, and that meant Drake could send the rest of his men all over the country while keeping those whose presence he didn't mind at his side. It would be like a vacation from those that stressed him beyond his limits.
His plan started out perfectly. 1st lieutenant Delio DeLeon would take his group to the west and 2nd lieutenant Corbin Dewitt would travel to the east with his party. Drake himself would lead what was left of his men southward towards Anila. It was perfect, almost enough to make the normally stoic captain crack a smile. Almost. Too many years of being constantly showered with annoyance wouldn't allow his ever serious expression to drop even for a moment.
Unfortunately, things hadn't proceeded as smoothly as he had first intended. Before the Royal guards had even left the palace they had found themselves scarce of horses and supplies; the works of Heero Yuy, no doubt. The boy was the Second Royal Knight of Satulurain and ex-apprentice of Odin Lowe, a man so talented he had been granted First Royal Knight ranking in his youth. If Drake could blame anyone for the set back, it was Heero. It had taken them all day to locate the horses and supplies, and by the time they had finally returned everything to its normal state of being the men were too exhausted to continue with the mission.
The next day barred no better news for Drake; as he awoke and dressed in his traveling garb he discovered that many of his men had been poisoned overnight. Some had merely found themselves terribly sick the next day; others were discovered wide-eyed and dead in their beds. This time Drake could not suspect Heero Yuy of being the perpetrator; the teen was the bodyguard of the crown prince and heavily trusted by the princess, and Drake trusted Lady Catherine's word above all others. If she had faith in the boy, then Drake did as well. Still, it was quite plain to see that someone was deliberately attempting to delay the knight's leave from the castle, and Drake was none too pleased.
At this, the Captain knew that they would not only be needing to look into the prince's disappearance, but Heero's innocence as well, and that was without going through the trouble of investigating who supplied his knights with poisoned meals…
Raking a hand through his blonde hair, Drake leaned himself up against the sturdy trunk of a nearby oak tree, waiting for the arrival of his 1st lieutenant. Now that the castle was in peril taking all of the guards to locate the prince would be a risk; a risk Drake couldn't sensibly take.
Taking what was left of his men, the captain made the best decision he could under the circumstances and halved them; one group would monitor the castle while the other split a third time to travel the eastern and western roads. That left him and his lieutenants… This was not a position Drake wished to be in.
"Maybe you should retire." The captain of the guards averted his eyes to the narrow dirt road where a young man clad in a dark red silk shirt and back trousers walked. "I wouldn't mind moving up in the rankings."
Drake questioningly raised an eyebrow at the dark haired boy before speaking. "Are you suggesting, Corbin, that I can no longer handle the pressure?" he asked in a tone that was fairly void of all emotion; Drake didn't feel like giving his 2nd lieutenant the satisfaction of knowing he had been put on edge by recent events.
"Ie," he answered in a foreign tongue that Drake had only learned bits and pieces of over the years; there was a small smile on his lips and his dark eyes were closed, as though he were truly enjoying the pleasant weather of Satulurain, "but you have to admit, fifth rank doesn't do me justice." It was true; both lieutenants were admirably skilled; so talented that they rivaled even Drake's strength. The only thing that stopped Corbin from succeeding his captain was his less extraordinary resume; he had yet to gain enough experience to challenge Drake for the spot, but Delio was getting noticeably close. Still, both lieutenants had shown little enthusiasm towards the idea of moving ranks, and Corbin's words now were no implication of his future plans. Drake found it safe to assume that he'd have his spot for a few more years.
"Delio's not finished, eh?" he asked, changing the subject, to which Corbin only nodded before twisting his golden chain necklace between his fingers.
"You gave him a fairly challenging job. He's not due to be done for another hour or two."
"And you?" he proceeded; finding little calm in how well behaved the dark haired knight was conducting himself. "If I recall correctly, your job had a greater necessity for vigilance then his, yet you return to me with remarkable speed."
"Mm." was Corbin's initial answer as he slumped against a tree of his own, hands still idly fiddling with the piece of jewelry around his neck. His eyes calmly crept open and locked on Drake, and his smile became more noticeable for a moment when he realized his captain was looking for a more 'in-depth' answer. "What can I say?" he started, closing his eyes once more, resting his head against the shaded bark of his tree. "It tears me apart to be away from your side for too long."
Obvious mockery. Drake found himself scowling absently in the face of it. "In any case, what did you learn?" It was best to stay on topic in cases like this, where Corbin took to acting as lethargic as possible, forgetting himself in the process.
Once again the boy revealed his dark brown eyes, training them on the dirt road ahead. "Well, to start with there was nothing. No poison residue in what was left of their meals, nor was there any found in their… excrements," Corbin's nose wrinkled; obviously the subject of feces was none too appealing to him, "no questionable empty vials found in the kitchen. All in all it doesn't seem as though they'd been poisoned at all, but that's what's so suspicious, isn't it?" Knowing that he need not wait for a reply from his captain before continuing, Corbin proceeded. "It's quite obvious their meals were tampered with, despite what little evidence we've uncovered. Someone clearly believes us ignorant enough to let the matter rest, and in a sense they're right. We can't do anything without proof, especially since we have that 'recover Prince Trowa' mission to deal with."
"But?" Drake asked, urging his lieutenant to continue.
"But they've overlooked the fact that the safety of the royal family is our number one priority, so even if death by poison is still speculation at this stage, we have to take the appropriate actions to ensure that Princess Catherine is safe as well as Prince Trowa. Thus, under your order, Delio and I continued the investigation in secrecy." Corbin let out a bored sigh before reaching into his shirt. "While Delio took to gathering information from the servants, I continued researching our poison issue, and I believe that the knights were harmed for two reasons; the first being to jeopardize the safety of both Lady Catherine and Prince Trowa by lowering the number of guards. Now tell me, sir captain, who has motive enough to harm the royal family?"
There was a pause before Drake smirked in understanding. "They want us to think there are terrorists amongst us." Corbin nodded in agreement before letting out another sigh to show how uninterested he was in the entire matter. "If they had attempted to poison Lady Catherine directly we'd have to assume that a distant member of the royal family was trying to hasten their succession to the thrown by bumping off the competition, but the perpetrators attacked the royal guard instead, so-"
"We'd have to assume this was the work of terrorists." Corbin finished, holding a browning piece of parchment in his hand. Drake guessed this list was what the boy had earlier been trying to produce from his robes. "Now tell me this, dear captain, how many terrorists do you know of that possess the resources to purchase a very deadly, very expensive, poison that would, without a doubt, cripple the Royal Knights? Once more, the intelligence to infiltrate the castle and dispose of it into their meals?" Drake frowned, not liking this new development. Perhaps he should have taken Corbin's advice more seriously and considered retiring; events were unfurling into a matter he simply did not wish to deal with. "Drake, this is most likely a nobility instigated inside job started because someone's been monitoring Prince Trowa and knew he was on the verge of escaping. They were waiting for his separation from Kumania because they knew it would allow them the opportunity to attack the guard," for the first time that day, Corbin sighed as though he were genuinely distressed, not just 'bored', "and I hate to say it, but this list claims Heero Yuy is our number one suspect. Who else could get close enough to Prince Trowa to gauge his movements? More importantly, who else has known him long enough? Who else has befriended a kitchen hand with access to the knights' meals that mysteriously disappeared from the castle moments before the occurrence of this treachery? And, not to make matters any worse, he's got the genius and resources to pull it off. Even if the perpetrators never intended for us to find all this out, things aren't looking very good for Heero Yuy, Second Royal Knight of Satulurain."
"It couldn't be." Drake started seriously, having no real evidence to back up his claim other then his gut feeling.
"I agree," Corbin said, attempting to assure his captain that he was on his side, "there are many others who could have done this. Us, for example, we're on the list as well." The dark haired boy pointed to the flimsy bit of parchment to emphasize his point. "Reason two I haven't figured out yet, but there's obviously an underlying reason for all this chaos. However, all fingers point to Heero. Someone's deliberately trying to make a terrorist out of him to cover their own tracks."
"We just need to know who has motive enough to do such a thing." Drake breathed out dismally before applying pressure to his temple with a hand, trying to fend off a headache. "You informed Delio of this?"
Corbin scoffed, feigning insult. "Of course, that's why he isn't back yet. It takes a lot of work, flirting with all those kitchen maids for information, 'who heard what' and all that rot." He finished, waving his hand dismissively. A small, devilish smile worked its way onto the boy's face as he slipped the list back into the confinements of his robes. "Who knows, he might even have to do a bit of overtime before he gets any information of interest."
Drake raised an eyebrow, not believing his 2nd lieutenant for a moment. "You joke." He said more as a blunt statement then question, training his eyes on the boy before narrowing them significantly. He didn't believe this discussion had room for such humor.
"I joke." Corbin confirmed whilst giving his head a single nod. Despite the captain's glare the boy found himself smiling mockingly at the man. Nothing made his day better then knowing he had peeved Drake off in some way, shape or form. "Still, it is going to take him a while to finish up, and if he doesn't collect anything good at all we'll have to make a few critical assumptions, won't we?"
"It pains me to learn that you both hold my interrogation skills in such small regard." A new voice spoke up, catching the attention of both Drake and Corbin. "Honestly, hearing you two banter about how dreadfully long I was taking! It made me feel as though I'd fallen into the habit of completing my assignments at a snail's pace." He pouted jokingly, sneaking up to Corbin's side. "I'm not that slow, am I?"
"Slower then me, in any case." Corbin replied, as though that were some sort of answer. "What did you learn in that immeasurable amount of time, Delio?" he asked, smile growing as wide as his interest.
"Nothing solid, I'm afraid." He replied, not at all let down by his own lack of information, to Drake's dismay. "However, after our meeting with Lady Catherine two nights ago a servant girl caught sight of Lord Dekim entering the Thrown Room after our departure. This is mere speculation, but I find it safe to say he was the first noble to learn of Prince Trowa's disappearance besides Lady Catherine and ourselves."
"Agreed." Drake confirmed, allowing his brain to digest this new tidbit of information. "He could be our man. Living in the castle, he knows well those who are close to the Prince. It would be no challenge at all for him to pin the murders on Heero."
"Yes," Delio replied, smiling pleasantly despite the unpleasantness of the situation, "and if Corbin is right about the poison, Dekim has the wealth, resources and influence to pull everything off in such a small amount of time."
All in agreement, the two lieutenants could do little more at this stage then wait for their captain to supply them with orders. The pause became almost unbearable as Drake took to the task of silently finding the best course of action. Delio had rested himself comfortably beside Corbin to do a bit of cloud watching in the slowing reddening sky whilst the dark haired boy once again took to fiddling with the golden chain around his neck.
"Alright." The immediate revival of the conversation caught both knights off guards and they returned their attention to Drake with mildly surprised glances. "There's little more we can do now. Lady Catherine awaits her brother's hasty return to the castle. Furthermore, we'll need Heero within our custody to confirm our assumptions, and it's immensely likely that he's playing companion to the prince on his escapade. Unfortunately, if we cannot prove his innocence…" Drake paused, not wanted to continue do to the sheer severity of his current predicament.
"What?" Corbin prodded, brutally ignoring his captain's hesitation.
Drake raised his head, turning serious eyes to his two lieutenants. "We'll accept that he's guilty and return him to Kumania for prosecution."
"You can't be serious," Corbin probed further, thin, dark eyebrows knitting together in mild confusion, "not when your instincts tell you otherwise."
"You find yourself at odds with my orders, Sir Howler?" Drake asked, provoking the boy's anger by mentioning the surname Corbin had dropped long ago. "Then feel free to stay behind and search out more evidence against Dekim. God knows it would be of infinite use to us."
There was a small pause, and then. "What?"
-Portentum-
Trowa breathed in the fresh air of an outside breeze, enjoying his freedom whilst doing very little to sport his delight. It never had been a trait of the prince to demonstrate his inner most thoughts and feelings. Growing up in a world where emotions were often viewed as a great character flaw, Trowa couldn't afford not to develop a poker face; a mask of power that many admired and few could see through. Not a shard of his content was noticeable as he sat atop the roof of the Maxwell Church, gazing out into the distance at the land he had for so long been deprived of experiencing.
While the others remained downstairs, fussing over the blonde servant boy they had encountered in Anila's market, Trowa took to nursing his own wound in privacy. He had not thought the whip capable of doing so much harm, yet here he was, staring down into the torn fabric of his sleeve, watching crimson blood spill from the fresh slash in his arm with idle displeasure. It was a fairly trivial wound compared to the ones the blonde had endured, so the prince had stowed away to the roof where little attention could be placed upon him.
Even now Trowa wondered what force had caused him to intervene so recklessly. Worry for Hilde's safety was reason enough to take action, but the brown haired boy, Duo, had seen to aiding the girl long before him, giving Trowa virtually no reason to interfere. Was it then a whim of destiny? Something he had done in the spur of the moment guided by an unseen force he would never be able to comprehend? Whatever the case, Trowa had moved and taken the blow head on, and by the time he had regained control of his senses Heero had already come to his aid, knocking the beater to the ground before pilfering his whip so that no further damage could be done.
The bodyguard's lack of concern for Trowa made it fairly obvious that he was unknowing of the injury, but the prince didn't mind; Heero's services were more needed elsewhere at the moment.
Finding no more purpose in staring at the throbbing gash in his arm, the prince averted his eyes to the reddening sky lingering over the city. He had thought rumors of Anila's fast paced hours to be myth till now; a yellow toned sky at noon hour, how rare. Trowa thought it to be truly beautiful, well worth the escape from Kumania, which, in circumstances of beauty, had little to offer besides a court of decorated, overbearing nobles.
"Like the view?" the hairs on the back of Trowa's neck stood on end; he was surprised that someone had managed to sneak up on him, but refrained from allowing such a reaction to show on his features. The intruder didn't wait for an answer before he crawled out the window and painfully took a seat next to the prince. Trowa absently looked to blonde, noting that he had done a splendid job acting as though his back wasn't burning with every movement of his body, but said nothing. Obviously the boy didn't want anyone to know he was in pain, so who was Trowa to speak out?
He sighed blissfully, causing Trowa's eyes to widen in slight awe before he gracefully returned his attention to the gorgeous sky overhead. How someone could act so serene after undergoing such a beating was beyond him, and frankly, he lacked the right to question. "It's beautiful. Very, very beautiful." the blonde continued, absently answering his own question before letting out another merry sigh. "Though, I'm sure the beauty of Castle Callidora far surpasses that of this great landscape."
Trowa was not at all taken aback by the blonde's knowledge of his origin. He had suspected Hilde of slipping some such information after running into her in the marketplace, but that didn't really matter now. He was certain Heero had given the girl consent to tell the father and other monastery people of their situation to keep them from jumping to conclusions. If they gained the trust of the church people, information concerning their whereabouts would be restricted to the Maxwell's. "You're wrong." He replied simply, crouching so that he might rest his crossed arms upon his knees to better gaze out at the orange sky. "This natural splendor overshadows that of the castle in great measure, to the point where words lose the power to describe."
Much to the prince's well covered shock the fair skinned blonde chuckled almost condescendingly instead of agreeing with his majesty's word. "I'd be a fool to agree to such a declaration." He replied, closing his eyes dreamily. "You, surrounded by magnificent grandeur, find more peace in this serene sky then the castle that has sheltered you from birth till now?" Trowa quizzically met the blue-eyed boy's gaze, frowning slightly. The boy noticed the prince's displeasure, but his smile did not falter, only grew in amused wonder. "How is that?"
"It was in my being sheltered so unfairly that I happened upon my sour disposition of luxury." He replied boldly, hoping to finish the conversation so that he could, perhaps, return to enjoying the beauty of the day. The blonde sighed again, breath empty of content.
"Its sad though, isn't it?" he started, hoping to regain the prince's attention. "That war and chaos has left many a good child stranded and sparse of ease, yet you take for granted what they most desire," Once again, Trowa raised an eyebrow, his silent way of urging the younger looking man to continue. "a home to return to."
Feeling as though he had been backed into a corner, Trowa remained silent, choosing neither to confirm the blonde's deduction nor disapprove of it, for he could barely comprehend the statement even though it had been put so simply. Trowa couldn't help but to agree that he was fortunate; one did not become Crown Prince of Satulurain without experiencing a high quality life that many simple folk only longed to live. Still, he would gladly trade it in for the life of a simply nobleman any day. Yes, luxury was all grand and good, but if it came harnessed to responsibility it served as seldom more then an irritation… and itch that Trowa lacked the reach to scratch. One could suggest that he needed someone else to do it for him; someone like Catherine, who was already all too used to serving a country for the betterment of all. Prince Trowa did not possess such commitment; his soul was one of whimsical nature and not all befitting of royalty.
"It must be nice," the blonde started again, and Trowa was quickly falling under the impression that the younger man did not know how to stay silent, "to be prince, I mean." The blonde made an attempt to rest his back against the shingled roofing behind him, but stopped after realizing that such a move would put a lot of unwanted pressure on his wounds, which had yet to close up. "Unconditional love from people that you don't even call family, it just comes with the title." At first Trowa thought the boy was mocking the stance he had taken in their slight quarrel and he turned to give the blonde a cool glare, but upon meeting the boy's gaze he witnessed the boy smiling sincerely in his direction. As the boy chuckled amusedly at such a reaction Trowa simply turned away, evening out his expression yet again before letting the boy ramble on. "If only we were all so lucky, right?"
Trowa thought over the question quickly, wondering if it would be better to hold his tongue or treat the blonde with a reply. As the boy had yet to do any wrong, aside from disagreeing with the Crown Prince of Satulurain, of course, he decided on the latter. "Right." There were moments were he felt awkward, giving such short and monotone replies, and he absently looked to the blonde to see if he took offense. What a revelation it was to see the boy's smile broaden in satisfaction of his deficient response. The prince felt an odd amount of relief after having his answer accepted so freely, but could not for the sake of him understand why, nor could he begin to explain why the blonde's sudden crest fallen expression bothered him so.
"I almost forgot about it." the blonde muttered quietly, staring down at Trowa's arm. Forgetting himself for a moment, Trowa fallowed his gaze, finding his eyes trained on the wound on his arm. "The others had their backs turned to you at the time," the pale boy continued, reaching into the window for something, "but I witnessed you take injury for me and came to see you with the intent of returning the favor, to some degree." Hand returning from the cover of the window, the prince noted that the boy was now wielding a role of white medical bandages. He placed them at his side before going back to the window sill, this time retrieving a bottle of sanitizer and cotton gauze.
"Your arm." the blonde commanded seriously after wetting the gauze with alcohol. He held a hand out to Trowa, expecting him to rest his arm their so that he could clean the wound. The prince silently obeyed, inwardly taken aback by how the boy could place so much care in a complete stranger. To Trowa, it was absolutely baffling.
On contact with the alcohol the prince's wound began to sting more severely then it had when left alone; a sign that all harmful germs were being killed to keep the cut clean. Trowa smiled despite himself. This boy had probably just saved him from receiving a long scar. What would Cathy have thought upon seeing him return with such a blemish? Heads would be rolling, that was for sure. Rare was it for Trowa to receive injury without his sister placing blame on someone, even if it was not, in all reality, their fault. Yes, one did not want to see Princess Catherine of Satulurain upset.
"You're a far stronger man then I," The blonde started again, meeting eyes with the prince. "I've never screamed more in my life then when Duo dowsed my back with this." he chuckled light heartedly despite Trowa's lack of response to the declaration. "For a moment I thought he was trying to kill me. Alcohol poisoning." He and Trowa shared a smile, the prince closing his eyes and lowering his head in understanding. "Still, he's never done me wrong before, it would be an ill thought out choice to accuse him of such a thing now, despite my backs protests." He heaved a happy sigh before putting away the gauze and taking up the bandage. "And here you are; fresh cut on your arm and not a noise from you! I'm jealous. I wish I had your tolerance."
There was a slight pause in the one-sided conversation as the blonde took to bandaging the prince's arm, then Trowa surprised the both of them by allowing his inner thoughts a voice. "You're endurance is far stronger then mine." The blonde stopped his work, eyes shooting up to the prince's in obvious surprise. Trowa understood, after all, it was unlike him to be the 'starter' of a conversation, especially with such a forthright stranger. "Were I you and made incapable of escape, I fear I would have taken my own life in aguish long ago."
The blonde opened his mouth, but failed to speak words. With little to do but comprehend his own embarrassment at being left speechless, the boy simply fell back into his rhythm of bandaging Trowa's arm. After a moment or two more of faltering over words, he caught the prince's gaze with his deep blue eyes, ready to give a completely formulated reply. "You are kind in your words, but I find myself undeserving of your pity. The only thing that binds me to this life is bad decision and unbreakable desire to serve the land that bore and raised me." Knotting the ends of the bandages together the boy made for the window, crawling through before turning to face the prince.
As Trowa looked to him, he could tell the boy wished to say more, but what came next was something most unexpected. "I apologize. Speaking of commitment to the Crown Prince; I was too bold." He smiled slightly, obviously regretting the rashness he had spoke of; Trowa has yet to identify it. The prince had not recognized impoliteness in the boy's words… was the blonde overreacting, or had he simply interpreted the boy's speech incorrectly? "You were born to serve this country, so surely you understand me more then anyone else." The blonde looked to Trowa and offered him a half-hearted smile, and Trowa found himself retreating from the gesture by returning his attention to the crimson sky reigning over Anila.
The truth was, he didn't understand, couldn't understand, and, as shameful as it was, didn't want to understand. He had stayed hidden from duty for so long that there was virtually no reason to step out of its shadow and accept it now. He would run from it until his legs gave out, and then crawl until his fingers could haul his carcass no longer. Then, under the heat of the free sun, he'd stand; chained to his cursed birthright till his body, old and exhausted and married to a woman he could not love, simply gave up on living and returned to dust.
It was truly a dismal viewpoint, but nonetheless the most sincere reflection of the prince's inner feelings, and they would change for no one. Yet, despite his overbearing confidence in his own beliefs, Trowa felt a very small twinge of pain in his chest. Was he a coward? And if so, did he care? Why should he? He was who he was, that was nothing to be ashamed of. Frowning slightly at his own hindrance, Trowa freed his mind of the devilish thoughts perturbing his act of indifference.
The blonde sighed, no doubt disappointed by the prince's lack of reply, and Trowa heard him turn to leave. For a moment, the prince was pleased, hoping a moment of solitary would allow him time to sort out his affairs, but then the blonde hesitantly began to speak. "I'm Quatre, by the way, just Quatre. I was wondering, your highness, how I was to address you now that I've been…'prompted' to service you for the next week."
A courtier would have thought such a question absurd, that 'Prince' and 'Highness' were the only acceptable names for one of Quatre's rank to address someone of his stature with, but Trowa knew better. It was, in fact, a smart question cloaked well in simplicity. Quatre had quickly realized he had, in an odd twist of fate, been tangled in with him, Hilde and Heero. In his attempt to save Hilde, Trowa had made him his tag-a-long for this 'adventure' in Anila, and for Quatre to address him as 'prince' in such a place… that was no wiser then him walking through a crowded court of Satulurain nobles uncovered while trying to lay low.
"Amongst Heero and the others you may call me Trowa," he said sternly, making sure that Quatre understood that addressing him by his birth name was in no way an implication that they were crossing formal barriers in an act of friendship; this was for safety measures only. Quatre nodded his head in understanding, looking in no way downhearted. Perhaps he had been expecting such treatment. "In public, if you must call me anything, call me Noname."
Once again the boy nodded, this time adding a formal bow before he retreated for the doorway of what Trowa assumed to be Duo's room after taking in the scarce memorabilia decorating its walls. While placing a pale hand on the frame of the now opened wooden door, the blonde turned to face the prince, offering him a remarkably sincere smile for someone who had just come out of a conversation that had ended on rather foul terms. "I hope your arm heals soon." And with that, he was gone.
Trowa could only stare blankly at the empty space the boy had disappeared through before he once again returned his attention to the sky. He wouldn't be able to linger on the shackled rooftop of the Maxwell house for much longer, not when lunch was no doubt almost on the table. The prince could smell the sent of seasoned chicken roasting over a fire in the air; it had ventured up the staircase and through the open door of Duo's room, passing through the place where the blonde had once stood before reaching Trowa's nostrils. The sent was accompanied by the smell of buttered corn and fresh garden peppers. Fine food, that's what it was; Trowa had caught the same aromas off of Hilde's kitchen clothes numerous times before, this was no different.
As if on cue a loud voice hollered from below. "Hey, you, the escapee! Lunch is ready, high tail it down here and grab yourself a plate of holy goodness!" It was the long haired boy summoning him to the table… in a most indecorous way.
Allowing himself a small, barely visible smile when a female attempted to hush him up, saying, "Duo, that is not the way you address one of royal blood!" in a quiet voice that was just loud enough for the prince to hear, Trowa elegantly climbed back through the window and made his way for the stairs.
"What?" Duo replied, making no attempt to lower the volume of his voice. "We invite this guy into the sanctuary of our home out of the kindness of our hearts and still have to address him as though he's got a stick permanently lodged up his ass? Oh the humanity!"
"Duo!" the same woman, Sister Helen, if Trowa recalled correctly, started again, sending the boy an almost sorrowful, disapproving look as the boy continued on.
"'Ain't nothing prim and proper to a guy running away from his problems, Sister, he won't mind!" Duo proceeded cockily, and Trowa stopped in his tracks. Was… this what the ingrate thought of him? Poker face in place even now, the prince frowned mentally at the boy's judgment on his character; who was he to sum up his being by what he had seen so far? And had he not saved this boy's comrade? How could he accuse him of being a coward after he not only got Quatre away from his previous owners, but ensured his safe travel to the Maxwell's haven as well?
"Duo!" a new voice protested, and Trowa raised a single think eyebrow in slight awe. This was… Quatre's voice. "You should know better then to draw such conclusions under so little evidence!" the sound of plates being laid out, and then he heard Hilde's voice, chattering adamantly to a silent fellow whom he could only assume to be Heero as Quatre continued his protests. "After all," his voice now took on a bitter note that confused Trowa greatly. He had taken the boy to be such a… happy person. What was this new emotion? "You can't understand someone simply by judging them under the circumstances of which you've come to meet them."
A small, understanding silence filled the room, calm enough to silence even Duo's seemingly never ending chatter. As Trowa peered around the corner, he saw that the brunette smile sympathetically before nodding his agreement, and the arrangement of dinner plates continued in a serene silence.
The prince did not go unnoticed for long. Father Maxwell's keen, though aged, eyes found his form before the present 'youngsters' even knew he was there, and he dutifully ushered Trowa into a chair. The prince was most understanding of this decorum and took his seat without thanks; it was almost unheard of for one of royal birth to thank someone of such a low rank, even if that person was a man of god, and though Trowa wished to be free of his royal bonds, he found some traditions harder to break then others. Or rather, he preferred to be one up over the person next to him then one below.
It was a fear of the prince's to be trampled upon; to be under the thumb of someone else. It was not so much the social rankings that made the prince who he was as much as it was his own ideal that in order to survive in the world, either as a prince or a commoner, one needs to wear their backbone on the cuff of their sleeve and thus prove they were worthy of respect.
To Trowa's knowledge, Heero wasn't much different, yet the two were far from being a paradox. Though the bodyguard possessed a noticeable tendency to assert his authority in both severe and moderate situations, he was one of the kindest people Trowa knew. This aspect of the knight was often overlooked because of the boy's rather harsh physical exterior, but he was always courteous to soft hearted women like Hilde, and would often play a hand in helping those in need. Even now, as he took a seat at the Maxwell's humble dinner table, he gave a gracious nod to both the Father and Sister Helen. He did not grace them with a smile, though. That small glimmer of gratitude was reserved for Hilde, whom he'd known had aided in the preparation of dinner.
Heero was often considered to be perfect among the people that knew him best, and even among a small faction that simply admired his more noticeable qualities. Trowa often wondered how anyone could balance civility and authority as well as this 'perfect soldier', but he assumed it had something to do with knight duties. To achieve such a high and desirable ranking, one must not only be skilled with the sword, but possess desirable entertainment skills as well so that they can keep the courtiers entertained during honorable festivities. They were to dance, have intriguing mannerisms, and socialize.
Ah, Trowa cracked a slight mental smile at that. Heero had two sides, and neither of them were good at conversation. Heero was so forward with his opinions that he often found himself unintentionally enraging the court nobles. Though it was true that the bodyguard didn't hold their views of him in high regarded, he had accepted that their approval was needed for him to climb in the knight rankings and thus fell into a silence when confronted with conversation.
Better to be silent, then to offend; better to speak the truth when necessary then to sputter off lies. This was Heero's unspoken motto.
"Umm… Trowa?" Hilde prompted releasing the prince from his distracting thoughts. "You alright there?" Trowa gave the girl a single nod before elegantly picking away at his meal. Now assured that the crown prince of Satulurain wasn't flaking out, the rest of the table continued to dig into their plates of mouth watering food.
While Hilde switched between swapping cooking recipes Sister Helen and exchanging witty banter with Duo, Heero remained silent, adamantly listening to Father Maxwell's historical monologue of Anila. During all this Trowa mostly kept to himself, mind vacant of all thoughts aside from the small suspicion that he was being watched.
Looking up from his plate for the first time since he began his meal, the prince met eyes with Quatre, who was giving him what Trowa could only identify as an analyzing glance from across the circular table. It was neither harsh nor thoughtful, and although unnerving Trowa could not claim it to be impolite, for there was a kindness in the boy's eyes that made him suspiciously innocent of ulterior motives. The prince knew he character was being depicted by this boy, yet he oddly at ease despite the circumstances upon which he had come to meet eyes with this boy.
After a small moment of further examination, Quatre finally came to realize that he was looking directly into the prince's eyes… and that this was most rude of a commoner. He simply broadened his smile before wordlessly averting his gaze back to his meal.
Not wanting to think harder on the subject of being stared at so intently, Trowa followed suit, devouring his meal while blackening his mind to keep thoughts of troublesome nature at bay.
-To be continued-
AN: And so ends another chapter! I hope it was a little thought provoking… I know it must have been terribly confusing in some parts, but I'm hoping that can be blamed on the complexity of all the Gundam Wing boys. lol, they're all so troubled that its really hard to place their thoughts characteristics for this sort of story… that's the good thing about fanfiction though, isn't it? You get full rights to manipulate characters and make them do whatever the hell you want 'em too!
I hope no one complains about how I portrayed Heero through Trowa's mental interpretation. Honestly, I've never seen Heero as a bad guy. Sure, he's a little psycho when in the midst of completing a mission and a hard ass when the time calls for it, but I've always admired how tough-guys like Heero and Trowa treat the GW ladies (even the bad ones) throughout the series. They're sure polite! Even Wufei has his moments (refer to how he behaves around Sally Po in Episode Zero if you don't believe me!)
And speaking of him, I know some people are wondering where he is. XX I planned to give him an important role in all this because he is one of my favorite characters (he amuses me!) but by doing that I've accidentally put off his appearance from probably a few more chapters… depending on whether I write more or less then what I'm currently putting out. XX
So for those who did read the interlude, I hope you liked it. All characters are figments of my imagination that I had to make up on the spot JUST to write all that… it really needed to be done, though. You'd never understand the 'eventual plot' if it weren't for Drake, Corbin and Delio's little meeting. What's going to happen to Corbin? You'll just have to wait and see!
If you'd like to see more of these three, let me know in your feedback. Though background characters, they have fairly significant roles in Portentum, so it would be better if people liked them rather then despised them (though I'm sure they're going to have their moments).
Wow, this was really only a 'thinking' chapter, wasn't it? Hope it didn't bore all of you too badly. Just think of… um… 'the calm before the storm' (I don't know if I worded that correctly). Things will definitely heat up, I just don't want to rush things along and ruin the story.
Thanks one more time to all who read and reviewed! I love 'yah so much!
Till chapter two!
Arlen Sayos