AN:

After some PMs, I have cut this up into several chapters (making this easier to digest). In answer to a question posed by Guest P (who read the whole thing before I cut it up!) – No; there's a reason that it didn't work on him.

Pairings – 3x4, hints of 1x2 and 5xC

The dragon-lore is vague, I apologize. I have half a mind to write side-stories to this, but I'm undecided. This story is complete, but if anyone has any scene requests, PM me and I'll see what I can do.

Castles and Dragons

How did I end up like this? Quatre through as he - "she" - looked up at the tower before him. He exited the carriage and immediately, there was a guard on each side of him. Stepping away, a third guard fell in behind. He was a prisoner, that was all there was to it. He tried very hard not to trip over the skirts he wore – it wouldn't do to have him fall on his face. He had already been humiliated enough.

~A week earlier ~

Quatre knocked on the door to his late-father's study. His father's funeral was still fresh in his mind. It hadn't even been a day when his father's brother, Uncle Amir, had called him to come meet him in the late Omar's study. He had a fair idea what this would be about.

"Come in," the voice called from within, and Quatre obeyed.

Inside, the study was rather dark and stuffy. The windows had remained closed and the fireplace, paired with the candles that lit the room gave the space a dark, rather ominous glow. Amir wasn't alone, Quatre noted, as he stepped in to stand before his uncle. Off to the side was a woman in a tight black dress and a dark cloak with gold trim. Her face was obscured by the hood, but a pale hand could be seen grasping the tall ebony staff that stood taller than her.

Quatre waited.

"I'm sure you know why I've called you," Amir said, without preamble, giving Quatre a dark-eyed stare.

"Succession," Quatre said, just as curtly. "You don't think that I am a suitable heir, but you've no choice in the matter, uncle. I'm the crowned prince and there is no point in contesting it. You have no claim, but I would rather not feud with you. I'm willing to hear what you have to say."

"That's good… because I AM contesting this. You may be crowned as the heir, but everyone knows a woman may not inherit the crown…" he grinned.

"What are you talking about, uncle?" Quatre asked, looking extremely befuddled. Yes, he was effeminate, and yes, he'd failed to show interest in the ladies of the court, but how did that make him a woman?

Amir nodded to the lady beside him and she began chanting. Below Quatre's feet, the ground began to glow. There were circles and spirals and writing he did not understand glowing beneath his feet, like embers coming to life. There was a flash of light and the within the concentric circles, a rush of air seemed to try and knock him over.

Then… as suddenly as it began, the air, the lights, and the glow – they all died down. Quatre was left panting in the middle of the runic circles, but… nothing seemed to happen. He looked down at himself and didn't see anything different. His shirt was rumpled and had partially come undone, and when he looked up, his uncle was grinning and holding up a mirror.

"My dear Quatre, as I said, a woman cannot inherit."

Quatre stared, in shock, at his reflection. It was him… but… his body looked slightly different. The way his shirt was hanging open, it looked like he had breasts! Granted, they were small, but they were there! He looked down at himself, and frowned, his chest was very flat. Looking up at the mirror, however, he had subtle curves that his body did NOT possess!

"What did you do to me?" he asked, glaring between his uncle and the red woman.

"We have discovered your secret, my dear. But what we don't know is how you managed to convince so many that you were a boy all these years. GUARDS!" Amir called out, smirking. When a pair of guards came in, he pointed at Quatre. "Take PRINCESS Quatre up to her room. We have discovered her for the liar she is. Don't let her out until she's decently dressed, and in the morning – take her to the tower with the rest of them.

Quatre struggled in their arms, noting how embarrassed they looked to be grabbing him. "I will argue with you on this, uncle. *I* am the rightful heir!"

"You have a month," the red woman said.

Everyone froze.

"Since you are the crowned heiress, you shall have a month to be rescued or escape from your tower. If a suitable prince rescues you, or if you free yourself, you shall reign. If you fail to do so, the crown will go to the next male in line."

"Take them BOTH away!" Amir seethed – but the woman in red was gone. Disappeared into a column of flames that left nothing in their wake – not even a scorch mark.

Quatre was dragged back into his room and did not see the light of day until he was moved from the castle to his tower.

And by then, everyone had been fed the story of how a princess was passed off as a prince by the late King Omar, in a futile attempt to keep the crown away from Amir.

It didn't take long to arrange for Quatre to be transported from his castle home to his new prison. The ride did not last long since the enchanted castle had been alerted that they would be receiving a new "princess" to "protect". Managing not to trip over himself as he was pulled out of the carriage, Quatre was escorted by palace guards to his room in the enchanted castle. As he walked, feeling the weight of the pretty, but damning bands of silver on his feet, his heart sank and his ire grew. He was a MAN, damn it! "Boy," by some standards, but he was most definitely MALE. He was the crowned PRINCE and now he was being walked into his gilded cage, like a princess, to both 'protect' his virtue (*scoff*) and await rescue. Who had ever THOUGHT of this ridiculous arrangement? WHY was this the norm?

He'd questioned it before, but he'd always been told that this was the way it was and was discouraged from asking again. Quatre vowed that WHEN he became king, this whole stupid idea would be thrown out the window!

He'd been forced into a corset and a dress, and the silver bands on his ankles had been sealed with magic. Once he arrived at his destination, he would not be able to leave his appointed rooms without first breaking the bands. That should be easy enough…if he didn't have to use magic to do it. He'd have to test them and find out. He refused to wear shoes, but a headdress and veil were forced onto him – a lady (supposedly) never showed her face and hair to strangers. Ridiculous. He'd seen MANY a lady's hair! He endured it only because it hid his face and the humiliation he was currently going through. He'd managed to sneak a small blade into his corset, but the blade and sheath were so far down his corset, he didn't know if he'd be able to get to them, the damn thing was so tight!

He was walked past a room that looked a lot like a garden where he saw a pair of women chatting and doing needlework. One was a beautiful blonde woman with long blonde hair. Quatre idly thought she looked much like the portrait of his late mother. He paused when she turned to him, giving him a cold look.

"Are you Quatre?" she asked, coming closer to the archway that separated the garden room and the rooms beyond from the hallway in which he now stood, surrounded by palace guards.

Quatre nodded, but his voice had left him.

"I don't know how you managed to fool so many through to adolescence," she said coldly. "Why did you get to enjoy freedom while we've been trapped here?" she hissed.

Quatre had no answer to that. Not really. He knew all she saw was a skinny girl with a veil over her face. "I am a boy," was all he said, "And I will free you, one way or another," he promised.

She gave him the once-over, but nodded, "If you say so."

Quatre didn't stay to hear anything else. He continued walking through the maze of hallways and corridors until he arrived at another arched doorway. Inside, it was also rather garden-like, but the flowering plants were missing. Instead, it was grassy with vines along the opposite wall. There were a few ferns here and there, but there wasn't much else. There was a door to the right and one to the left. Both were open. It appeared that the one on the left was a bedroom and from what he could see of the one on the right, it appeared to be a study.

He turned to his guards, after having taken just a few steps into the garden and waited expectantly. "Well?" he asked. "Is there anything I need to know?"

One of them came forward and read from a scroll. Quatre learned that he was not to leave these rooms. There was a little magic to them, and they would tailor, with time, to his tastes… but that the changes would be subtle. For example, his favorite plants would grow, and the colors in his room would change to fit his taste. He might occasionally find things in the study that would entertain him – like paints or needlework. Quatre had to roll his eyes at that.

He was also asked if he would like a lady's maid, like his sister had – he quickly turned that down.

He was informed that clothing had been prepared and could be found in the armoire in the bedroom. If he required anything that was not found in his suites, he would have to request it for the dragons. THAT caught Quatre's attention, but he didn't have a chance to ask. They walked away immediately – like they were forbidden from interacting with him any more than absolutely necessary.

That was fine by him. He needed to explore and see if he could get the hell out of this place before the end of the month.

Quatre explored his room, which there wasn't much to. There was a vanity, a bed, an armoire, and a window. Additionally, there was an adjacent room for him to bathe and relieve himself, which he supposed was a blessing. He did not fancy the idea of having to use a chamber pot in place of an indoor privy. Much to his dismay, however, the clothes he found were dresses. All of them dresses. Growling in irritation, he grabbed the three hanging in there and marched them through the bedroom, dragged them through the grass in the garden, then threw them out into the hallway. Satisfied that he'd taken care of the offending items of clothing, he walked over to the study.

There was a reading chair, and a desk with paper and pens and ink. That made sense. He did recall getting correspondence from his sisters from time to time, and thinking on it, it made even more sense that his sisters would be allowed to correspond with one another. It would be awfully lonely otherwise – handmaid or not! Flipping through the books, he was immediately bored. Poetry? Romance? What drivel!

Maybe he'd come across a dragon. That would at least be a LITTLE interesting.

Just then, he noticed a window in the study… but instead of a view of the outside world, he had a view of a corridor, where a man was sitting, polishing a helmet with dragon features etched onto it.

"Hello?" Quatre called out.

The man looked up, and frowned. His dark hair tied back tightly and his eyes were strangely angled and shaped, the color of ebony.

"Hello… can you help me?" Quatre asked.

The man stood and came closer to Quatre, "What may I do for you, my lady?" the man asked.

"First off, don't call me that," Quatre growled, ripping off the offending veil he realized he still wore. "My name is Quatre. Call me that, please. Can you help me get out of here?" he asked. He knew the answer was going to be no, but he had to ask.

"I'm afraid my job is to keep you in," the man said.

"What's your name?" Quatre asked curiously. "And if you're not here to get me out, who are you?"

"My name is Wufei – I am a dragon."

Well, there went the idea of fighting a dragon.

"Can you give me a sword then? Or even a knife?" Quatre asked hopefully. "I'll give it right back."

The young man shook his head, "I can't do that."

"Then can you help me cut off this damned dress?" Quatre asked, getting frustrated.

THAT got him a reaction!

"I most certainly will NOT! What kind of lady are you?! Are you deliberately trying to get me in trouble? I will not be accused of doing anything so dishonorable to a princess! What kind of man do you take me for?!" he seethed, his black eyes beginning to glow red.

"I'm a PRINCE," Quatre snapped at him, "and if you won't help me, I'll find someone else who will!" He noticed that the window had shutters and in his anger, he slammed them shut. It felt good to slam something. It didn't do anything to help his situation, but it felt good to make some noise.

He once again began to survey the room and it was then that he spied the full length mirror behind him. He came up to it and studied not only it, but the reflection that stared back at him.

His face was still his own and his hair was still short. If anything, his jaw seemed a tad more rounded than he knew it was. He reached up to touch his face and felt a stronger jaw than the one he saw in the mirror. His eyes traveled down and stopped at his chest. The reflection in the mirror showed the tops of small, budding breasts peeking out from the neckline of his dress, pushed up by the relentless corset. He looked down at his actual chest, felt it with his hands, and then looked back up at the mirror. The chest under his hands was flat. The flesh peeking up above the neckline was hard with muscle, not soft and pillowy, as his reflection implied. Is this what everyone was seeing?

In a fit, he ripped off the skirts he wore, leaving himself only in smallclothes. That is, the shift that came down to his knees over the thin pants he wore, that gathered at the knees with a bit of lace.

Looking at his reflection, he had to fight the bile rising up in his throat. It was flat down there. With a trembling hand, he touched himself, afraid of what he WOULDN'T find, and let out a sigh of relief when he felt that he was still very much male. He looked down, gathered the shift up to his waist and peeked inside the pair of underpants he wore. He was still intact… but if his reflection was any indication, no one could see it.

That made him see red and in a fit of anger, he punched the mirror, smashing the smooth surface. Thankfully, he still had the remains of his skirt wadded up around his fist, otherwise he would probably be picking glass shards out of his skin for the next two days.

Leaving the mess behind him, he walked back into the garden, and froze in his tracks when he saw someone standing there with a tray. The man quickly averted his eyes and Quatre realized that the man probably thought he was looking at a lady with the bottom half in a state of undress.

"Are you a dragon?" Quatre asked. When he nodded, Quatre pressed forward, "Are you allowed to come in here?"

"When commanded," came the soft, smooth voice. It was nicer than the other dragon he'd met through the window.

"In that case, I command you to come in here and free me."

"I am bound and must follow most commands… but I can't do that," the man said softly.

"Then I command you to come in and put the tray down. After that, I command you to help me get the hell out of this dress. I have no handmaid and I can't reach the buttons. Once the dress is off, I order you to cut the cords that hold my corset shut."

The man on the other side of the doorway looked shocked, vibrant green eyes looking up at Quatre with disbelief, but he did as he was told. He came in, put the tray of food down, then went behind Quatre and began undoing the buttons that held the top part of his dress on. Once Quatre was free of that, he took out a knife from its sheath on his belt and began cutting the cords on Quatre's corset. Once it was loose, Quatre took a deep breath. "Thank you," he said gratefully, his ribs aching. "I can breathe again."

While the dragon couldn't see, he grabbed the knife he'd hidden under his corset, hiding it in folds of his fabric and whale-bone body prison as he removed it from his torso, and rolled it all into a bundle to hide his contraband. The man was very notably averting his eyes.

"What is your name?" Quatre asked.

"Trowa," said the dragon, "Is that all you require of me, princess?"

"No." When the man tensed, Quatre continued, "Do not call me princess, I am a boy. If you must call me something, use my name. Quatre."

The man nodded tightly and Quatre stepped away, "Thank you. I won't keep you any longer… will you come back later? Are you allowed to talk to me?"

"We will take turns seeing to your needs, Princ- Quatre," he said. "Conversing with the princes- prisoners," he corrected, "is not encouraged, but it is also not forbidden. I'll leave you to your supper."

The guard, "dragon", left then. Quatre was once again alone, but at least he no longer had a corset to contend with.

"She TOLD ME to cut her DRESS off of her! Can you believe such an INDECENT Princess has been put here!" Wufei was RANTING (as usual) to the only other Dragon around their age in the shared mess-hall that linked each of the Dragon's tiny rooms to their training areas, and the corridors leading into their assigned sections of the castle.

Trowa sat down beside his friends, and quietly added in, "She commanded me to cut her corset off."

Both Wufei and Heero (each, like Trowa, around 20 summers old), looked at him in utter shock…. Partially because of the command, but also because they both KNEW that Trowa had DONE it. Trowa was always quite literal with rules, and when a Princess 'commanded' something, Trowa would do it—Even if it was standing on his head and singing a song.

"That is- Is-" Wufei began.

But Trowa cut him off, "She was quite polite about the whole thing, I suppose… She seemed relieved to be out of it… She claims that she is actually a boy."

"She said that to me, too" Wufei added, "As IF my eyes are wrong! She is CLEARLY female!"

Heero turned to Trowa, lifted a brow, and said, "YOU clearly took her corset off. Did she LOOK like a female to YOU?" His tone was accusatory and it had been said JUST loud enough that two of the older Dragons overheard. Trowa's face flushed red in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

"I don't know. I didn't LOOK. I just did as commanded! And anyway, you are teasing the wrong Dragon anyway. Everyone knows that I don't desire women! That's why I always get stationed to work with the more difficult princesses, don't I?" Trowa growled a little. His usual calm starting to leave him at Heero's tease about impropriety. "I take pride in my position, unlike YOU, Heero. You may not have wanted to be here, but I come from a long line of proud Dragons. I know the rules, and I will uphold them."

Wufei put his hands out between the two in a gesture of calming. At the castle the longest (despite being virtually the same age) meant that he was the senior between them and he took it upon himself to make sure that the group of three 'young' dragons were regarded with the same dignity and respect as the older Dragons in the castle. He would never want to be associated with dishonor, and so, Wufei quickly moved to settle their differences, giving BOTH of them a glare for their outbursts.

Heero stood, and left the table. Trowa turned, to serve up his dinner for the night and tried not to talk about the rather difficult new …. Resident… that had come to shake up their quiet life at castle Reed. Perhaps Trowa could figure out a way to make things run a little bit more smoothly for them all… Especially Wufei. Trowa owed him a lot, and if he could help? Then he would.

He decided then and there that this new Protected was… rather interesting. He would take it upon himself to make sure that things ran a bit smoother for this Protected. Quatre seemed special in a way that Trowa could not quite pinpoint yet, but, there was no mistaking that he felt a certain connection to the blonde that he could not really explain. But he hoped that one day, it would become clear.

The other Dragons might accuse him of a bit of favoritism… but he would hardly be the first, and, he doubted that he would be the last. So what if he allowed himself to favor the feisty Princess? There were a lot worse rules that a Dragon could break.

Two days had gone by and Quatre noticed that most of the dragons that came by to drop off food or pick up his dirty bed linens did not look at him. He supposed that it was because he was walking around his chambers in smallclothes – specifically, the under pants that gathered at the waist and knees. He didn't feel like wearing the shift, which was really nothing more than a frilly, lacy DRESS.

It was in the evening when the dragon that would spend a moment or two to exchange a word with Quatre that one of them dared to say something.

"You're making the dragons uncomfortable. You shouldn't be so naked," he said. "There are clothes for you, or there were when you arrived."

Quatre noted that the man had come in, dropped off his dinner on the table, then had gone back to the archway. He was sort of leaning against it, mostly facing away from where Quatre stood, eyes very firmly averted. Quatre supposed it was easy to avert one's eyes when so much hair was obscuring one's vision anyway.

Quatre could have thrown a fit, but he actually liked this dragon. He was tall, and strong (not that such a build was unusual for a guard), but he carried himself differently than most of the others. They were all fairly quiet, but this one had a stillness about him, one that Quatre felt hid an intensity that the man took great pains to hide. He was handsome in the face, with a strong jaw, gorgeous tanned skin, and the more vibrant green eyes Quatre had ever seen. That was something all the dragons had in common, Quatre mused. They all had eyes that sparkled like jewels – even in the darkness.

"Those clothes were for women," Quatre said, picking up the bit of sausage on his plate and eating on it while talking to the dragon, Trowa. "I refuse to wear them."

"Isn't that what you are?" the man asked, to which Quatre responded by throwing him an angry glare.

"I'm going naked tomorrow, unless someone brings me pants and a proper tunic," Quatre informed him. "Call my bluff if you like, but I'm not the one that's uncomfortable."

Trowa walked away then, and if Quatre wasn't mistaken, the handsome man was smirking as he did so. Was he amused? Or did he think Quatre wouldn't do it?

Quatre finished his dinner and went to bathe before crawling into bed. Stubborn dragons had no idea how stubborn Quatre could be… and so far, the knife he'd smuggled in to his prison was doing absolutely no damage to the silver bands that kept him prisoner. In the morning, he would scour the books in the study once again for any title that might help him figure out this magic. The titles of the books were constantly changing, he'd noted. The ones that he threw in a heap on the floor did not reappear on the shelves. Idly, he wished that magic-related volumes would appear for him as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Quatre woke up feeling quite refreshed. He washed his face in the basin and gathered up his bedding to toss into the hall. It actually DID feel kind of nice (productive!) to strip and make his own bed. When he walked into the garden area, he smiled when he noticed his breakfast was already waiting for him on the table, and on the chair beside it was a new set of clothes. Brown breeches and a cream colored cotton tunic.

Throwing his bedding into the hall, he hurried over to his new clothes, naked as the day he was born, and picked up the pants. He was just sliding them up over his hips and fastening them when he heard a voice behind him, "Wufei did not believe you'd walk around naked until he came to pick up your bedding."

Quatre turned, spying the tall Dragon Trowa standing there with a book in his hands – eyes averted. Quatre put on the tunic and laughed, "He should have been the first to believe it. He never misses a chance to mutter something about indecency when in my presence. I'm not sure if he thinks I can't hear him or if he's trying to shame me. Either way, it doesn't affect me. Come in," Quatre smiled. "Now that I'm dressed, you shouldn't have to look away, even if you think I'm a princess in breeches."

The man did come in then, "I can't stay. I need to be at my post, but I thought you might want this. I'm not sure why, but this morning I woke up thinking you might be interested. You keep throwing out the romance and poetry… I thought you might want to read about history instead," Trowa said, handing him the book, but he looked… nervous.

"History?" Quatre asked, taking a bite of toast before putting it down to accept what Quatre felt to be a peace offering. The cover had a dragon on it, and though the embossed leather was very well taken care of, he could tell that the book was both old and well-read. "Is this from your personal collection?" Quatre asked.

The man didn't say anything, but Quatre got the feeling that it was important to him.

"I'm sorry…I'm keeping you. Thank you for sharing. I'm sure I'll enjoy it much more than the prose that den is trying to subject me to."

Trowa left then, leaving Quatre much happier now that he had pants AND something interesting to read.

Quatre read for the better part of the morning, and, much to his surprise, he did quite enjoy reading this dragon history chronicle that had been loaned to him. There were stories about individual dragons, some heroes heralded by the humans as near deities, but most attacked by humans to near-extinction. In this day and age, serpentine dragons and dragons that resembled towering lizard-like beasts with wings and the ability to breathe fire were seen as little more than myth.

The only "dragons" that existed today served as guardsmen for captive princesses all over the realm.

Perhaps this book would give him better insight as to what happened to these great beasts. If this was truly a history, and not a glorified folktale anthology, sooner or later, he'd get to the part where these mythological "dragons" started looking like humans.

He closed the book and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if Dragon Wufei was still outside his study window or if they rotated and someone else would have that area today. He hadn't bothered to check since their last interaction, and there was a little time left before they brought him his midday meal, so he thought he'd look and see what Wufei thought of him in men's clothes. Better yet – there might be a different "dragon" altogether. One who wouldn't mind talking to him and perhaps give him insight as to how one might be able to liberate themselves…

He padded over to the window in the den and opened it. It wasn't very big, but he could probably squeeze through it, were it not for the bands around his ankles. Peering out into the hallway, he frowned. That… was a different hall. It appeared to be a different section of the castle entirely!

He stuck his head out a bit and looked around, "Hello?" he called out. If this was an unguarded section of the castle, Quatre was definitely keeping the window open to this spot. All that he'd need to do then was figure out how to get the damned silver bands off him.

He heard noise coming from the garden room and moved toward it. He smiled a little when he saw Trowa standing there with his mid-day tray, placing it on the table where Quatre had been taking his meals.

"Hello," Quatre called out, walking toward him, barefoot. He liked the feel of grass blades under his feet. "Thank you for the book. It's been an interesting read so far. I'm making good progress, but so far, it reads like mythology." He saw Trowa stiffen at that. Interesting.

"So says the princess who claims to be a prince," he said, green eyes glittering. How was that possible? Then again… in the last week, he'd been hexed with some odd glamour, making everyone think he was female, seen a witch disappear in a column of flames in his father's study, AND he was held prisoner by invisible chains that prevented him from leaving the three rooms he presently occupied. Why shouldn't he believe dragons were real? Magic clearly existed. Just because he didn't understand it and just because he'd never been this exposed to it before did not make it any less real. This week alone, he'd been subjected to more of it than he had in his whole life! As a matter of fact, he had just been peering out an enchanted window. If magic was real, surely magical beasts were too.

"Good point," Quatre said. "I suppose I'm a bit disillusioned. I was threatened with having dragons as my prison guards… I had expected literal ones."

"Who said you didn't get them?" Trowa asked cryptically.

"I'll believe you when you believe me," Quatre said, crossing his arms. He had NO idea what he looked like to the tall man, but all the response he got from him for that was a raised eyebrow and a retreating back.

Maybe he SHOULD have accepted a handmaid.

"Hey!" he called after the man, hurrying to the archway, sticking his head out, trying to catch him before he was too far gone. "Bring me a weapon next time! I'm bored!"

The retreating back didn't stop, but he did get a wave. He'd been heard, at least.

He went back to his meal and began to eat. He read a little more that afternoon, then went back to examining the bands around his feet. Water did nothing to them, and neither did a knife. Was he missing something?

Quatre went back to check on his window, and looking around, there was still no one there. Perfect.

He'd try sneaking out tonight. Perhaps the bands on his feet only kept him from escaping from the main archway…

"Obnoxious, upstart, INDECENT little princess!" Wufei grunted, standing his post at the corner of two hallways, watching the South walkway (where Lady Nadia's window sometimes looked out).

On the other corner, eyes looking down the West corridor and never looking at the other dragon, but their shoulders near-brushing as they stood doing their separate jobs, Trowa shrugged, "I find Quatre… Interesting."

Wufei sputtered at that, and went on and ON about her oh-so-frustrating 'indecency' but Trowa was already tuning him out a little as he considered the newest captive…

She really WAS quite different from the other Princesses. Her manners, and her mannerisms, spoke of a different type of person all together. And, the fact that Quatre was quite a bit older than when most princess were brought to be protected by Dragons was something odd in and of itself.

Trowa tuned back in when Wufei snarled, "And she wanted me to give her a sword!"

"I'm going to get a staff for Quatre." Trowa said, suddenly, cutting Wufei off and leaving the other Dragon QUIET (for the first time in a while).

"Are you cr—"

"It'll help Quatre burn off some energy, at the very least. What is the harm in a staff?" Trowa said instead. "Perhaps it's not as… domestic… as needlepoint, but, the entire castle usually changes to their tastes so what if this captive doesn't like needlework? Quatre asked for a weapon, and I can't do that… but, a staff should do…" Trowa said, his quiet voice an even lower hum as he confided in his friend.

Wufei's face pinched together as he thought about what to say… and then, he changed the topic somewhat when he said, "You haven't called her a HER."

"Pardon?" Trowa said.

"You! This whole conversation, you have been dancing around the fact that this PRINCESS is CRAZY and thinks that SHE is a he." Wufei pointed out.

Trowa was quiet for a moment and then he shrugged, "Frankly, Wufei…. I have seen so many impossible things with my very eyes that I do not see why I would not believe someone who argues so vehemently. But, even if it's a lie, what is the harm? I got Quatre breeches—and Quatre stopped walking around naked. I started calling Quatre by name, instead of using a feminine pronoun and then Quatre became much easier to speak to; much easier to patrol and to work with. And Quatre talks to me, even though I know that I should not expect any of our Protected to speak to a mere Dragon. I don't see the harm in finding a way around saying one gender or the other, especially since it seems to be important to Quatre." Trowa let it drop off like that and continued to look down the hallway (seeing a handkerchief be hung over the window as one of the girls worked on some other stupid flower pattern)

"….I think that's the most I've EVER heard you speak at once." Wufei finally replied… and laughed a little as he did.

Trowa found himself smirking at that—yes, it probably WAS…. But, it was a small price to pay, he thought, to make the short-blonde haired Protected feel a bit happier in their new home.

Realizing that Trowa had filled his word quota for the week, Wufei let out a sigh… and then said, "Well, I might not agree with you, I suppose that all there is left to do is see what kind of consequences come of this… But-" Wufei broke the rules…and turned back, looking at Trowa instead of down his assigned hall, and then said, "I will not tell our leader if a staff happens to show up in Quatre's room."

Trowa's face broke into a SMILE at that, and he nodded (keeping his eyes on his side, though… He broke enough rules that he didn't want to risk it on the silly ones!) and then Wufei turned back to his hallway and walked away from the corner to do another circuit of his area, checking in on Nadia and the rest.

That evening, when Trowa was finished his watch for the day, he slipped out of the walls of the castle, and found a strong, thin tree…. Breaking down the section that he would need…. And he began to whittle it down…. Slowly carving what would be needed, smoothing the wooden surface with work and care…. And adding a few simple flourishes of the Dragon's symbols as he worked. It took days. Many days, actually, working by the fire as he rotated onto outer-wall watch for the week. But, by the time he was rotated back to inside the castle, the staff was complete.

He waited until an evening, when the short-haired Protected should have been sleeping… and he carefully tip-toed into Quatre's room… placed the Staff on the table in the study…. And left it there for Quatre to find in the morning.

Quatre had begun making markings on the wall, to count down the days. That morning, he got up, padded to the wash bin to splash water on his face, and then went to the garden, where his tally was kept. Breakfast was already waiting for him. Grabbing a piece of toast to munch on, he padded over to his tally and with his knife, he added another scratch mark into the stone. Ten days were gone, and he was nowhere near freeing himself.

He'd almost finished the book that Trowa had given him, and he was very interested to find out that somewhere down the line, what few dragons were left began, as a way to survive, to transform themselves into human-like beings. The males took female humans as wives, or concubines, and the offspring became fey – and in some cases, powerful fire witches and wizards. The female dragons mated with human males indiscriminately and hatched human-shaped dragons. Both male AND female, all warm-blooded.

Quatre learned that it was from this line that the Dragon Guard came to be.

Powerful kings and rulers who had wanted the power of dragons, but could not capture (much less control) the reptilian version began to hunt down the humanoid ones. The females proved to be too destructive and uncontrollable, so they would be useless as guards. The males, however, once captured and chained, proved to be very obedient.

They were far from being naturally "loyal", they were captives after all, but the iron bands they wore around their necks made them unlikely to fight back.

After generations of Dragon Guard, the kingdoms that utilized the Dragon Guard developed patterns and systems… some worked well, most did not. Where they did not, castles were burned to the ground.

In THIS kingdom, known dragon females were given nice houses and small plots of land to do with as they pleased. They were often regarded as witches and most small folk wanted little to do with them, so having king-appointed lands benefitted them greatly. They had to agree to the condition that they were to give up any male child they gave birth to at the age of 12 if the boy showed any signs of Dragon blood. Of course, they were also given gold for every boy they gave up. The girls, they were allowed to keep… and those girls were also watched. They would be given the same deal when they reached maturity. There had never been a female dragon that turned down the deal; dragons could never turn down treasure. Especially the females.

Quatre was thinking about how the Dragon Guard came to be as he finished his breakfast and walked into the library that was looking more like a den these days. There were fewer books and more objects for him to study and tinker with. He'd left the book on the writing desk the night before and had been intent on finding out more about the male dragons and the tools of their imprisonment when he spied the staff… with dragon markings all over it.

Quatre couldn't help the bright smile that broke forth. He hurried to it, picked it up, and tossed it from hand to hand. Reading would have to wait. He took the staff to the garden, moved his table and chair closer to the wall to give himself space, and began to go through morning katas with his staff. He would usually do his morning exercises around mid-morning at home, but he was used to doing it with a weapon. Now he had a staff, making him feel MUCH more at home. Going through the motions without a weapon in his hands during his stay was making him very frustrated.

The staff kept him busy most of the morning, and by the time he'd burned much of his energy, the mid-day meal was brought to him.

Today, his guard was Wufei. "Good afternoon," Quatre smiled, seeing the dragon come in with his meal.

"Hello, Protected," Wufei said.

Quatre blinked. That was different, "Protected?" he asked.

"You do not want to be addressed as 'princess' and I cannot bring myself to call you 'prince' … 'Protected' is what you are and is gender neutral. Is that acceptable?" Wufei asked, putting Trowa's theory from days ago to the test.

Quatre nodded, staff still in hand, coming closer. "May I ask you something?" he asked, reaching onto the tray and popping some green grapes in his mouth.

Wufei had been about to take his leave, but paused when Quatre spoke to him. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"I see you sometimes, through the window. Your fighting style, or rather your evening practice, looks different than anything I've ever seen. I know you won't spar against me, but would you show me?"

Wufei looked VERY surprised, but looked away. "We are not allowed to be in your presence more than five minutes. I must go."

Quatre smiled, "That wasn't a no."

Wufei grunted and left. Feeling much happier, Quatre sat down to his meal, studying the markings on his staff. Afterwards, he bathed and was on his way to retrieve his book when he noticed a new window had appeared in the garden. A much bigger one. It was almost a door, really, and twice as wide.

Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it, surprised to find Trowa sitting on the other side of it, honing his sword.

He was about to say something when Trowa looked up, in the opposite direction from where Quatre stood and ran, sword at the ready. Quatre couldn't see anything, but he heard the sounds of a scuffle and steel meeting steel. It went on for five tense minutes and then it was quiet.

Behind him, he heard footsteps. Hurried footsteps. Someone was running. He stepped away from the window, which had opened opposite the archway to the hall where the dragons came to see to him, and moved toward that archway, picking up the staff on his way.

He was almost there when a man he'd never seen ran past him, then stopped and back peddled. He was panting, and dirty, and he looked like he'd been in a fight. His sword was still drawn, but there was no blood on it, thankfully.

"I'm looking for Princess Quatre" the man said, looking over Quatre, frowning at Quatre's choice of wardrobe. "Are you her guardian?" he asked, clearly confused by what he saw. Princesses did not wear breeches.

"I am Quatre," he ground out, hand tight on the staff. "What do you want?"

"I – I" he stuttered, taking a step back. He was caught off guard. "I am Prince Hansel. Second Prince of –"

"I don't care," Quatre said, crossing his arms. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to rescue you, to make you my bride," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm not interested. Go away," Quatre told him.

"But my princess!" he placated, coming into Quatre's garden, "Surely, you jest! Come, I'll take you away and you'll be free," he added, turning up the charm. But Quatre wasn't having it.

Quatre used his staff to hit him in the shoulder, then swiped at his feet, knocking him onto his butt. He moved quickly and pressed the end of his staff against the man's chest, knocking him all the way to the floor, making his head hit the grass. Had it been stone, he probably would have cracked his head.

"I am NOT your ANYTHING, let alone your princess," he seethed. "Marrying you or anyone LIKE you is the last thing that'll ever happen. In fact, I'm much more likely to gut you than kiss you."

"B-but I beat the dragon!"

Quatre kicked the man's sword out of his hand, "I am not a dragon, and I don't have to let you pass," he growled. "Since you allegedly DID beat a dragon, you have two options – you can walk out of here empty handed, or you can go rescue my sister," he told him backing off a bit. He reached down to grab the sword and did NOT give it back. "She is down that hall, down a flight of stairs, and in the hallway to the right. She'll make a wonderful wife; now go before you piss me off and I run you through," he threatened.

The man quickly scrambled back and got through the archway, "Y-You're c-crazy!" he accused, eyes wide.

"So they tell me," Quatre agreed, but didn't lower the sword. "Thank you for the gift," he smirked, then watched with great pleasure as the man scrambled down the hall.

He turned away from the archway, ready to go back and examine his new window when he stopped in his tracks. Both Wufei AND Trowa were standing there, staring at him. Trowa was holding his side, Wufei looked disheveled – like he'd been interrupted when putting on his uniform. Quatre had noticed from spying on the guards that they didn't often come in full armor when bringing him his meals. Wufei must have just been preparing to start his shift.

"You don't fight like a woman…" Wufei conceded, "… but I still think you're crazy."

Quatre nodded, "Noted." He had a death grip on the sword he'd just taken, "I'm not giving this back," he said. "I won't use it against any of you while I'm held in this room, but I'm not giving it back. I need it for when I escape."

Wufei looked at Trowa, "I'm not taking it from him. Will you?"

Trowa shook his head. Frankly, he would have given Quatre a sword himself if he was within rules to.

"In fact," Wufei continued, crossing his arms and walking away, "I don't think I even saw anything. I need to finish getting ready for my shift."

"Are you okay?" Quatre asked Trowa, looking a bit concerned.

Wufei, just out of sight, paused. NONE of the Protected had ever enquired as to their well-being… especially after an attack. All any of them had wanted to know was if the rescuer had been hurt and which princess was rescued. No one ever asked if the dragons were injured. Curious.

Trowa straightened and showed him where a sword had cut the buckle off his armor. He was holding his armor in place and not really nursing an injury.

But it was hard to hide the faint color that came to Trowa's cheeks when Quatre bothered to enquire about his health. It was… nice. But, he worried that if others saw the way Quatre treated him, that Trowa would be moved out of this castle and away from his favorite Protected.

"This window shouldn't be here…" Trowa noted, trying to change the subject. "You should probably close it for now." He looked to where Wufei had gone and shifted in that direction, "Wufei and I need to make a report. We have to hurry so that he isn't late for his shift."

Quatre did what he was told and found a safe spot to put his sword, but did not let go of his staff. He'd find out later if his sister had made it out with the prince. Until then, he had some reading to do. He was just getting to the good part about the bands that they were using to control the male dragons.