Hiya y'all! I am starting yet another Gundam Wing Heero/Duo fic! Yay! Also, I want you all to know that Dangerous Protections hasn't been abandoned. My stupid compy ate the file for the third chapter and I have to rewrite everything I had on it so far. Grr. it makes me angry. I had three full pages on that disk! Also it takes a while to write the chapters because they ARE like 10 to 12 pages each and that takes a while. Grr. O and Journal, Journal, On the Wall, Who Will Love Me Most of All? is having a second chapter written nearly as we speak, er. type. That fic is kinda weird. O well.

Anyway, this fic is totally AU and most likely OOC (I can't tell really, I can kinda get their characters right but then they do stuff they would never ever do, go figure). And I should warn you now there will be NO lemon. So if that's what you're waiting for then leave because you aren't getting one. But there will be some lime *wink wink* I don't know how much yet tho. Hopefully a lot. So keep tuned! ~^-^~

~`~

Heero paced back and forth. His midnight blue tunic annoyed him with its velvety texture. The soft silkiness of the creamy white shirt he wore under the tunic made barely a sound as he moved. His fingers worried at the lace on the cuffs. The white hose shone too brightly for his liking and the pointed-toe slippers constantly made him stumble. How he hated formal attire.

And how he hated formal occasions, balls especially. He was expected to mingle with all his father's friends' simpering youngsters. If it wasn't the girls fluttering around him trying to catch his eye, it was the young men telling him stories of great hunts they had participated in and bragging about their great treasures. At least Quatre would be there.

Quatre was the youngest and only son of a local noble family. At birth he had been promised to serve the king and his wishes. As soon as he turned fifteen, he had been packed off to the castle with all his most precious belongings. The king, Treize, having nothing better to do with the boy, had given him to his youngest-and favorite-son, Heero. He was to serve Heero as he would have served his king. That was just over a year ago and the two, Quatre and Heero, had a shaky friendship at best and neutrality at worst. And since he was the son of a noble family, he would have the privilege of attending the ball, even if the main reason for his presence was to serve Heero. Heero, by nature, wouldn't need much and Quatre could get in his share of mingling as well.

Heero continued to pace, waiting for Quatre to finish dressing. Wufei eyed him languidly from a chair, where he perched.

Wufei was Heero's other servant, though he was mostly a bodyguard. However, unlike Quatre who technically could leave whenever he wanted- though woe be on him when he did, for his family would be the laughingstock of the kingdom-Wufei didn't have that privilege. He was a slave, a fact he was none too proud of and very touchy over. Born into slavery, he would be a slave for the rest of his life, unless Treize said otherwise. And Treize wouldn't say otherwise because he didn't feel like finding someone good enough to replace him. Wufei was a martial arts master, having been trained for bodyguard duty since he could walk. Being a bodyguard/servant to Heero gave him some rank among the other slaves and even among some of the servants. But that fact didn't give him any peace about his slavery. Nothing did.

His nearly black eyes watched Heero pace back and forth, following his every move. As much as he hated being enslaved, he didn't want anything to happen to Heero (or heads, mainly his, would roll), even though he knew Heero could take care of himself to a certain degree. Wufei was training Heero himself, just in case Heero needed to protect himself when no one else was around and/or Wufei had been incapacitated. Wufei would also be attending the ball, except he would cling to the shadows, dressed in black, and watch for secret assassins and whatnot. He would not be allowed to participate in any of the goings-on.

Quatre finally came out of the room he and Wufei shared, dressed in a pale turquoise. He smiled happily. He loved occasions such as the one tonight. Heero didn't bother to look at his blond friend. He strode out the door, passing Rashid and two of the Maganacs (who came as a package deal with Quatre) who guarded Heero's door, with the two following in his wake. He managed not to trip over his slippers and grumbled to himself with a dark look. Tonight was not going to be pleasant.

They arrived at the ballroom, which was a good ways from Heero's royal suite, and walked in the door just as everyone was seating themselves for the banquet. Wufei immediately separated himself from the other two boys and slunk into the shadows. Heero stalked towards the head table, where a seat next to his father was waiting for him. Being the king's favorite son, he was granted any number of privileges, most of which he didn't want and didn't enjoy. One of which was taking his elder brother's place on his father's left. The misplaced Aiko was second in line for the throne, and by right should have been on his father's left. He distrusted and disliked Heero for that reason. Heero's eldest brother, Chieko, sat at Treize's right hand, having taken his mother's place when she died a few years earlier. Both older princes featured their father's golden brown hair and sharp chin. Heero, however, was the only one to take after their mother. Her messy chocolate brown locks rested upon his head now. His deep cold blue eyes were nearly the same as hers had been, excepting the warmth that used to reside within hers. Heero's looks may have been why his father favored him, even above his oldest son. Great pains were taken to make sure of his happiness and health, and, though he was always very healthy, he was never very happy. At the most, which was rare, he was slightly more than content with life.

Quatre stood still behind Heero, with his fingers laced behind his back. He eyed the buffet table against the back wall. He wouldn't be allowed to eat from it himself until Heero no longer needed him.

Heero signaled Quatre to bring him a plate of whatever from the extensive buffet table. Quatre, knowing the prince's likes and dislikes, was able to bring him back a plate that should please him. Heero pushed the food around a bit and told Quatre that he could eat now, as he wouldn't be needing him for a while.

Heero continued to push his food around with his fork lazily. Trying to ignore everything around him, he let everything blur from his senses and concentrated on the design in his plate until someone took the utensil out of his hand. He looked up and Treize put the fork down beside Heero's plate.

"You're being rude to our guests, Heero, why don't you go greet them?"

More time had lapsed since the banquet began than Heero had thought. Most of the guests had finished eating and the younger ones were gathering in the center of the ball room floor, waiting for the music to begin and filling up their dance cards. A few spotted him looking and waved him over. Heero sighed and pushed his chair back, bumping into Quatre who must have rejoined him a while back, and stalked onto the dance floor with Quatre practically running to keep up. One girl with long honey blond hair hurried towards them, nearly shoved Quatre aside, and tried to link arms with Heero. He firmly resisted.

"Heero! How nice it is to see you again." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened!" One flying teapot had helped Heero narrowly avoid an alliance marriage with the vapid, shallow girl.

Heero sighed and prepared himself for one horrible night.

~`~

Duo strode nonchalantly down the street, humming an old song he couldn't remember the words to. He tipped his cap to a well-dressed lady and snickered when she huffed in surprise. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his extra large overcoat, underneath which his long braid was tucked, and whistled a different tune, a funeral dirge that went quite well with the grumbling in his stomach.

Duo frowned. He hadn't eaten in. two days he counted on his fingers. His finger-less gloves were a faded brown in color and worn in a few places. He wondered if the whorehouse, named 'The Callow Fox,' missed him yet. He was yet again trying to run away. He legally belonged to the Callow Fox and legally they could do whatever they wanted with him. So he was trying to make it to another country. If only he could get out of the capitol.

He'd been wandering around the city, King's Town, for a day and a half, trying to figure out how to get past the gates without being seen. The walls were too high, too smooth, and too heavily guarded to climb over. He couldn't leave through the gates legally without papers showing that he was allowed to leave, for the mark branded on the back of his left hand proved to anyone who cared to look that he belonged to someone else and therefore had no personal rights. He was, in fact, breaking the law by covering it with a glove.

Duo passed by a bread stand, just closing for the night, and snatched a loaf of stale bread while the owner of the stand was turned around. Duo quickly shoved the bread into his coat and shuffled quickly away, grinning as he pulled his cap down low over his eyes.

Then someone grabbed his arm, his coat flew open, and the bread fell out onto the street, only to be rubbed into the cobblestones by a foot stepping on it.

"Hey! I stole that fair and square, buddy!" Duo complained loudly. He looked up at his captor and froze. It was Marc, one of the more prominent grunts who did security work at the Callow Fox. Duo swallowed. He swallowed again. "U-uh," he stuttered, his voice suddenly high-pitched, "Hi. Marc. I was just, ah, heading back, ah, yeah."

The grunt grunted and pulled the much smaller boy behind in his wake. "Hey! Leggo!" Marc stopped and, grasping Duo's left wrist, wrenched off the glove so as to reveal the brand of slavery. He let go of Duo and backhanded him across the face for his impertinence. Duo fell back onto the cobblestones, scraping the palm of his left hand. Marc grabbed him again and dragged him back to the Callow Fox. Duo protested the whole way, and tried to bribe his way out of Marc's grasp.

In front of the Callow Fox, a building that looked quite well off and pleased with itself in a smug sort of way, an ebony black and gold gilded carriage sat waiting with two black stallions hitched to the front.

Jandan, the owner of the Callow Fox, stood by the carriage with a small bag at his feet. As soon as he saw Marc with Duo in tow, he rushed towards them with the bag and shoved it into Duo's hands. A lump of fear grew in Duo's throat, preventing him from speaking. Jandan took his arm and pulled him towards the carriage. Duo climbed shakily inside and sat with three big burly, strong men, each easily twice his size, done out in black and gold livery. The door closed behind him, leaving him in near darkness with the three strangers. The carriage started moving, and for a moment Duo lost his mind in fear. He smashed himself into the door, frantically trying to get out, but one of the men took hold of his shoulder and slammed him back into his seat. Duo whimpered, terrified.

"You belong to King Treize now. You will never see this place again." One of the men grunted. Duo suddenly felt sick. *Jandan finally sold me.*