The silence of the desert night was disturbed by the heavy footfalls of galloping horses.

"Stop right there! In the name of Duke Khushrenada, I command you to stop!"

The two horses in front showed no sign of slowing down despite the imperative. One was a golden stallion that was once elegant and graceful, but now was sweating profusely from non-stop running. On its back sat a couple of noble heritage - Lord Winner and his beautiful wife Quaterina - owners of the desert lands. The other was a handsome white horse named Sandrock, with the young Winner heir and the family's loyal servant Rashid riding on its back.

Behind them a group of sixty horses chased. There were only twenty or so horsemen including Duke Khushrenada himself, and they changed horses as soon as the steed below them showed any signs of tiring. Thus with every step they gained ground, and would soon catch up with the small party in front.

The golden stallion gave a distressed wail when its legs suddenly gave out beneath it. It fell to the ground with a thud and the two passengers were thrown roughly to the ground. They got up immediately, hands automatically seeking each other in their love.

"Ma...umph!" The fifteen year-old young heir's despairing cry for his parents was muffled by the strong hand of Rashid. The existence of Lord Quatre Winner had to be kept a secret, so that he might be spared from the tragedy that was about to happen.

It was Lord Winner's decision to keep the existence of his only son a secret. After all, he was the forth in line for throne, behind Prince Milliardo, Duke Dekim and Duke Trieze. A powerful man had many enemies, and for his son to get hurt or threatened was the last thing Lord Winner wished to see. Power struggles that resulted in assassinations were not rare among the nobles.

The Duke was right behind. All would be lost if he heard the boy calling the couple his "Mother" and "Father". When Treize got rid of his enemies he got rid of them completely - younglings, servants and all - none were spared.

Thrusting the reins of Sandrock into the hands of the young heir, Rashid spoke fiercely into the ear of his young charge.

"Sandrock is a rare mare. She'll be able to outrun the wind itself with only you on her back. You have the ring, do you? Keep hold of it well, and prove your heritage and rights to Princess Relena. You are our only hope, Master Quatre - do avenge us all!"

As childhood playmates, Princess Relena was the only nobility that knew of Quatre and his rightful status as the heir of the Winner family. The ring that Rashid mentioned was a token of the Winner family handed down from generations to generations, given as a favour by the King long ago. On it was an aquamarine as wide as the first section of a forefinger.

Before Quatre could protest Rashid had jumped off the horse with an animalistic snarl - a battle cry of loyal servant. He smacked the white horse hard on the rear, and it shot forward like an arrow with its lightened load.

Returning to his master and mistress, Rashid stood between them and the coming horsemen, belligerently holding his sword. Lord Winner followed suit and pulled out his own rapier, ready to for a fight to death.

Quaterina was pallid, but her expression, brave. She tightened her fist around the hilt of her hidden dagger.

The horses stopped before them, and the horsemen got down on their feet. Still on his horse, Duke Khushrenada signaled his men to charge with a wave of his hand.

Rashid raised his sword to block the blade clashing down on him, then used his strength to push the offending metal away, before thrusting forward his blade to cut down the man before him. He could feel his Master fighting back to back with him. Two swords rained down upon him this time, and he had no choice but to block one of them with his arm. Blood spurted from the slash and fell upon the parched sand. He roared.

Lord Winner was faring worst. His wife gasped in horror as she saw a blade ram through her husband's shoulder, but he didn't even wince. She tried to throw herself between the deadly swords and her husband, but shrieked in pain when someone pulled her golden hair to keep her where she was.

"Quaterina!"

Distracted by her scream, Lord Winner turned to look at her. The wolfish attackers grabbed the opportunity to flick his rapier away. It sailed through the air in a parabola and stabbed into the sand some distance away.

Quaterina's anguished cry cut through the night as her husband's blood splattered on her silken night clothes. Rashid went wild and slashed at everything in sight, but he was too brought down by the sheer number of enemies.

She wailed a wail that came from the wounded core of her very soul.

She barely noticed when the almighty Trieze Khushrenada walked up to her to lift her chin and wipe her tears away gently. Before he could ask her if she would like to live with him instead, Quaterina Winner smiled her sweetest smile and tried to plunge her dagger into the murderer of her family. He cursed and pushed her away, but not quick enough as the dagger left an ugly slash across his waist.

As she lifted the dagger to cut her own throat, Quaterina Winner whispered a prayer into the stars of the desert sky.

"Dear Gods, please keep my Quatre safe..."

A shooting star sailed across the night as she fell softly on the sand.

Sandrock, as though she understood the plight of her young master, ran as fast as she could and ignored Quatre's cries for her to turn back. He didn't know why, but when he saw the shooting star in the East he knew that it was already too late to turn back. Thus he clutched on tightly to Sandrock's mane and convinced himself that tears were only flowing from his eyes due to the stinging sand that hit his face

The attack had come deep in the night, when the whole mansion was asleep. Their attackers were well-prepared too, dressed in sleek black clothes that blended in perfectly with the moonless night that seemed to be in cahoots with them. They were taken completely by surprise, and Quatre had found himself roughly awakened from his sleep just to be grabbed by Rashid. The next moment they were fleeing on their horses.

Yet he caught the one name that mattered most, in midst of the chaos.

Trieze Khushrenada, his father's long-standing enemy in the court of the King, was behind this. Trieze had fallen out of grace with King Peacecraft due to his passion for wars - The King shared Lord Winner's pacific attitude in settling conflicts with neighboring Kingdoms. Perhaps this had fanned Trieze's jealousy towards his father.

Whatever the reason, it was an undisputable fact that Trieze Khushrenada had murdered his family and taken his land. Quatre ground his teeth in flaming rage in his realization.

It was well into the morning when Quatre finally rode out of the deserts and into the savanna ruled by Duke Dekim. Dismounting his white mare, Quatre led the animal to a nearby waterhole to drink. He himself knelt down by the water and cupped a handful of the refreshing liquid to wash his face, before dipping his head beneath the surface of the live-giving water to drink greedily.

He needed an identity, he thought to himself as he leaned against his horse for a brief rest after the long night. Everyone had identity papers as prove of their right of abode in the Sank Kingdom, ruled by the Peacecraft Monarch. It was a huge Kingdom, consisting of various sectors of land under the rule of different nobles, with the central, most fertile land under the direct control of the Peacecraft family. The deserts that his family watched over were arid, but full of precious resources in the forms of metal and crystal mines.

He needed an identity that would allow him access to the royal banquets, where he would be able to meet Relena most likely. Quatre pulled out the aquamarine ring and stared at the blue stone. Similar tokens were held by the master of each noble household, as prove of their status with land under their name. After he met Relena, all he had to do was to present the ring as prove of his true identity as Lord Winner, then he would be able to testify against Trieze of the crimes he had done.

And the only thing he could think of now was to be a slave - it was not like he could find a real job without any identity papers. As long as he was picked up by someone important enough to get close to the royal family...

Decision made, he tied the ring to the tail of Sandrock and hid it in midst of all the hair. While there were no slave traders in the Winner's lands, there were definitely some prominent slave markets in the lands of the cruel Duke Dekim.

A/N:

Many slave! Quatre fics in the fandom depicts Quatre as submissive, weepy and generally without a backbone. This fic is written with the aim to defy that stereotype, so Quatre will be anything but submissive in this story. If Trowa ever calls Quatre as his "little one" in the course of this fic...well, he'l live to regret it. XD