Sorry I'm a day late updating this story. We have holidays here. Next week I hope to be on schedule again.

Guest, JJ: We're not going to see much about Duo's past in this part, just minor bits and pieces. Heero an Duo their relationship is nowhere near where Duo would feel like disclosing it and Heero's no psychiatrist. At this point he doesn't care much. He believes he knows what he needs to know. But Duo's not stolen royalty. Sorry.

XXXTITANIA SCARLETXXX: Trust is indeed a major issue in this story. But Heero mentioned nothing about love...

NekoA1: Wufei will be introduced in a couple of chapters.

6: Two sides to every story

Nothing comes from nothing. The past week he had been unable to get that sentence out of his head. It sounded so meaningless and yet it meant so much. Nothing comes from nothing. If you want something, then you must give something else in return.

Out of boredom he had picked up the book that Prince Quatre had given him when he'd set him free and started reading. For some reason, Trowa now found it hard to let go of what he had read. Nothing comes from nothing.

He only vaguely remembered the event that had happened a few years back. The thing that had prompted Quatre to give him this book had happened so fast, Trowa wasn't even sure he remembered it right. He could remember the location. It was one of the smaller courtyards, the one with the benches and the green flowers that grew along the walls. They had just been passing through, taking a shortcut when there was a shout and Trowa had looked up just as something came crashing down, going straight for his master. Trowa remembered feeling more than thinking that this was bad. If that thing killed his master, then it would mean chaos. If the precious crown prince died then everything would change, for the country, for Trowa.

He remembered wanting as well. He remembered wanting to prevent that, he remembered not wanting to lose this master, who'd so easily earned his respect. He remembered not wanting to return to the uncertainty of where he would end up next and who would be providing his next meal.

And then the falling stone had crashed to the floor a few feet away from Prince Quatre, a few feet away from where it should have landed. And then Trowa's hand was outstretched and pointing at it.

The prince had turned to him, to see if he was alright and alert blue eyes turned to confusion. And then Trowa had fallen to his knees, suddenly completely exhausted, as if he had hurled that large piece away from them all by himself.

Surely Trowa had just miscalculated the path of that falling stone.

That thoughtful expression Quatre wore for most of that day, Trowa had almost forgotten it. He'd seen to it that Trowa was given time to rest. The weakness he'd shown was blamed on the shock of watching his master almost getting killed, but Trowa was not that weak of heart and the prince had known it. Obviously he'd known more than he'd let on.

Magic was forbidden here. The king believed it could only lead to war and violence and he wanted none of that. But in the north it was widely practised. And Trowa's ancestors had been brought to this country from the north. They had been prisoners of war and for that they had been turned into slaves. Trowa had been born in slavery, but he knew that he was only a second generation.

Nothing comes from nothing. Could it be he had used magic without knowing it? The book mentioned that it was rare, but not impossible for an untrained individual to make use of it unconsciously when in dire need. Could it be that he had actually been the one to hurl the stone aside? Could it be that by not specifying the counter price, that he had paid for it with his energy like the book said would happen?

Nothing comes from nothing. It applied to so many things, not only to the use of magic. Energy seemed to be the common price when nothing else was around. Laundry didn't get clean if you did nothing to clean it, food didn't appear on the table if you did not put it there and preparing food, even carrying it over cost energy. Your body didn't move if you did not use your muscles and your muscles would not keep working if you did not feed them energy. If magic couldn't get its energy from something else, it would get its energy from you. And if you did not know how to give, then it would instead just take it all.

Could it be Trowa possessed magic?

If he did, then he was definitely in danger. If something like this ever happened again, somewhere where there were witnesses, Trowa could be sentenced to death, even if he had not meant to use it at all. Possessing magic was not a crime, nor was possessing magical items or even using them, but using magic that came from within was outlawed very strongly.

The prince had taken quite a risk if he had suspected it all this time. He had never said a word about it to anyone, for as far as Trowa could tell. He wasn't certain what the penalty was for harbouring a magician, but he was quite certain even a crown prince could get in trouble for that.

Trowa fingered the book that had started him wondering. Did he dare read more? Did he want to discover more of this mysterious thing that might not even be there or was he too afraid of what he might find out?

Trowa was not the kind of man to make decisions in great haste. He was often called silent and indecisive, but he just didn't like the idea of making a rash decision without having all the facts gathered and all the scenarios well thought over. He'd been thinking for a week now though and he still did not know how to answer that question. He supposed he'd just have to think some more before he would act one way or the other.

The Shinigami was learning how to behave quite nicely. The reference of 'master' now came almost immediately after the sentence when he addressed Heero. He did not need to say it at every sentence if he showed enough reverence, which was beginning to get there as well. Perhaps soon Heero could let the boy out of those chains for a little while. Not out of sight, just out of the chain. He was already giving the slave enough chain to move around his room quite freely, if he behaved. So far the boy had not taken to trashing anything yet, nor had he tried to attack Heero while the lord sat working or reading in his comfortable chair. That was a good sign. That did not mean Heero could just let his guard down, though. The slave was far from ready to be set loose.

Heero was just heading up to get some papers he'd left on his dresser last night, but was surprised when he entered his bed chamber to find the chains holding the slave leading towards the bathroom. Oh right, he'd instructed Helen to come up to wash the boy. He'd allowed servants in his room again as well to gather the laundry and such, though he left the cleaning jobs for the Shinigami to earn his food.

The door to the bathroom couldn't close because of the chains attached to the slave's collar and shackles and steam was slowly moving out of the bathroom, a scent of flowers –Heero had no idea what kind of flowers- accompanying it. From the voices inside he gathered that neither had heard him come in.

"Do you like how I braided your hair last time?" Heero heard Helen ask and the Shinigami answered.

"Yeah, it's so much more convenient." Heero paused in his search for the papers. That had sounded so completely different from when the boy spoke to Heero. The voice seemed much lighter, pleasant. Looks like he enjoyed being bathed.

"What does your master think of it?" As far as Heero knew the boy was still not aware of his name. And Helen seemed to be obeying the order not to mention it.

"Dunno, really." Water splashed and Heero imagined the boy moving to another position. "When he first saw it, that day you cleaned me up, he just ogled me and then left without saying a word."

Heero frowned at that. It was not how he remembered the scene where he'd first seen the boy cleaned up. He remembered being quite impressed with the results. He remembered letting that braid run through his hand approvingly. Had he spoken? He did not remember.

"Sounds like him indeed," Helen was already answering "He is a very private person. Much like his father. You should forgive him for that. He is just very dedicated to his work and rarely allows distractions."

"Humph, he likes pulling my hair for a distraction." This was said with disapproval, yet the boy still managed to make it sound light-hearted. His quarrel was with his master, not with the servant, Heero reckoned. Still, it was strange hearing him sound so different. Like this, the boy sounded nothing like a dangerous animal the Shinigami was supposed to be. It was like he was a completely different person, and yet he knew it was the same. Like two faces that belonged together, neither really conveying the full truth.

The Shinigami that Heero had seen mainly in the beginning had never seemed completely right, less so once the boy got cleaned up. But even now as he was conversing with the servant, something seemed off as well. He seemed a little too easy going. It made Heero wonder who this boy was going to be if he could manage to balance the two faces out. Who would come out once the spirit found comfort?

"How come you won't let me cut it?" Helen's question seemed to come out of nowhere, but Heero found that he wondered about the answer as well.

"That's kind of a long story," the boy answered casually.

"I've got the time."

For a long moment Heero thought the slave was never going to answer. He found that he was holding his breath, not wanting to miss a word if the boy did speak up. But when he spoke, he said instead, "Hey, can you show me how to braid it myself?"

Heero sighed quietly. Looks like the boy was indeed not as comfortable around the servant as he appeared yet. Or perhaps he figured Helen would report what was being said to Heero. Either way, the conversation now shifted towards braids and Heero needed to get back to work. He quickly grabbed the papers he needed and headed back out, to the office near the library downstairs.

Heero never mentioned the conversation he had overheard, not to Helen nor to the slave. There was no reason to, really. If he'd wanted them to know he'd heard, or if he'd wanted them to know he was there in the first place, he could have just entered the bathroom. He did muse on the conversation he'd overheard, though.

Helen was right about one thing; both he and his father were dedicated to their work. They had not gained their respective positions just by sucking up to the king. Sucking up was something everyone could do. They had proven they could handle their work. They had proven they could keep the nobles in their places and they had to keep proving that if they wanted to keep their positions. Of course, it helped being friendly with the royal family, but there was more to keeping their positions than just that. Heero didn't slack and he did not accept it of those he worked with.

It was a couple of days later when Heero brought the Shinigami his lunch, that something was wrong. Putting the plate down, Heero examined the coloured spot on the wall that had not been there before. The boy had already done his chore and went about eating quietly. It gave Heero a clear view of the slave's hand and that confirmed his suspicion. That red spot on the wall was blood. It had come from the boy's knuckles.

"What happened?"

"Huh?" The Shinigami looked up, his injured hand pausing halfway to his mouth. He looked from Heero to his hand and then shrugged, taking a bite from his bread. "Just tripped and fell. No big deal."

No big deal? "You're injured." He must have fallen pretty hard if he'd managed to get himself bleeding.

"It'll heal." He sounded almost challenging when he said that.

Heero frowned. The Shinigami was not the type to trip over his own two feet. He was much too graceful for that. While the boy ate, Heero watched for signs of other injuries, but he saw none. The boy stood and walked normally indicating his legs were fine. He did not so much as wince when moving his arms and Heero saw nothing else under the blanket. He must have been lucky to have only hurt those knuckles.

He waited for the boy to finish his meal, then ordered him to clean the wall. The blood was fresh and should come off easily. In the meantime he went into his sitting room to fetch something he could use to bandage the slave's hand. When cleaning was finished, he retracted the chains some and stepped closer to the boy, who drew back suspiciously. Perhaps he was thinking Heero was going to punish him. Heero had already explained more than once that if he thought punishment was due, the boy would ultimately not escape it.

Tripping and falling, however, happened accidentally. "I'm going to bandage that." He nodded at the hand. The boy relaxed somewhat and, after shifting the blanket around his shoulders so that he could hold it in one hand, even slightly held out his injured hand for Heero to reach.

Examining it proved that the injury was clean. It should heal well enough in a day or so. Heero wrapped the cloth he'd found around the knuckles and let go of the hand, which dropped immediately. "Be more careful." He simply told his slave. "And next time you dirty my wall, clean it immediately." He let it go with a definite threat of an 'or else' and gathered the plate. He was just about to reach the door, though, when he realised a familiar weight in his pocket was missing. Could it be...

He couldn't let the boy know he'd taken him by surprise, couldn't allow the slave to feel a full victory. He had to appear calm. Therefore he spoke before he checked.

"By the way."

Only then did his hand go up to his pocket. Confirmed. The boy had used their closeness to steal the crystal! Damn him!

"That won't work for you." He turned slowly to face the boy, well aware that he was scowling hard. The boy had dropped the blanket and moved as far away from Heero as the short chains would allow. He was eying him dangerously, wary. Sure enough, the crystal was right there in his injured hand.

Now it made sense. He had not tripped and fallen. He'd hurt his hand on purpose. He'd slammed it into the wall to make it bleed and he'd left the spot there for Heero to see, hoping it would draw him in close enough that he could do some pick pocketing. Clever. That sure taught Heero not to underestimate the Shinigami so easily.

The boy clearly expected trouble. Oh, he'd get trouble. Heero's eyes promised him that. But first he needed that crystal back intact. If it broke, they would both be in real trouble. It was custom made for those chains and Heero wasn't sure a replacement was even possible. He'd been told to be very careful with it.

"Go ahead," he said therefore. "Try it."

The boy eyed him suspiciously. His hands fingered the crystal, but those eyes never really left Heero's, trying to anticipate when he would move. The chains did nothing, they just hung there, no matter how the boy touched the crystal.

"It was made to work only for me." The Shinigami frowned suspiciously, but still said nothing, almost crouching in his corner. He held the crystal close to his chest.

It was clear the boy was not going to give it up so easily. Heero relaxed a little more. "I don't know what will happen if it breaks," he gave a small moment to let the threat sink in, "but I do know it won't release you." The boy barely moved, still watching him with distrust.

"It was difficult enough finding that one." Heero added. "Getting a replacement would take weeks and all that time you won't be able to move more than you can now."

The slave wouldn't budge and Heero was not in the mood to wrestle him for it. "Fine," he said, standing up straighter. He'd let the boy play with it. It was the safer option, as he knew the crystal wouldn't work for the slave. "If it's not on the table when I come up with dinner..." Another threat he'd leave like that. He was much too angry to be making solid promises now. And the annoying thing was that he was more angry with himself for not noticing the boy taking it than he was with the slave for trying. It was in the nature of a beast to try to escape. After a last good warning glance, he turned and left the room.

She saw one of the garden boys gape at her as she made her way upstairs. These stairs only led to Master Heero's chambers and though the ban had been lifted, nobody had yet gone in there besides Miss Maxwell. She didn't want to go up there, but it wasn't really her choice. She'd been told to collect Master Heero's laundry and slaves did as they were told or they faced the consequences.

Miss Maxwell had probably seen the fear in her eyes, for she had said that he was not so bad. She could know. She'd seen him. She was the only one in the household who'd seen him beside Master Heero and perhaps the other Master Yuy as well. But Hilde wasn't so sure if she should just believe it. Miss Maxwell was the kind of woman who would tell a white lie if that helped you feel better.

Even so, Hilde decided to take it as assurance while she headed into his room.

What kind of a name was Shinigami anyway? Was it even really his name? Some said it was a nickname, but everyone knew he'd been given it because of all the bloody stories that surrounded him.

She entered the room quietly, hoping that perhaps the new slave would be asleep and would not notice her. Alas, no such luck. The shadowy figure clearly moved when he saw her enter the bedroom from the sitting room. She'd come through the servant's doors there, of course.

The Shinigami sat up and smiled at her, but it was not a very pleasant grin. To her he looked something like a maniac. She quickly found the pile of laundry and, trying to steer clear of him as much as possible, hurried over there.

"You're scared of me?" Came the soft inquiry

She nearly jumped when he spoke. She glanced at him nervously, but said nothing, just went about her job.

"What's your name?" He asked then, calmly. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know. Seriously, I'm not."

He sounded so genuine. He even sounded like he was trying to be nice. Laundry in her hands, she slowly turned to look at him again. That weird grin had gone from his face and he was now frowning at her. He looked so... odd. She'd heard the stories of where he came from and she could understand why they'd put him in a whorehouse.

Hilde was tall for a woman and thin, but she had dark hair, almost no boobs and a boyish look about her that she emphasised by keeping her hair short. She knew very well what they did at those places and she didn't want to end up there. Most free women who looked like her would hate themselves for the way they looked, but she did not. It was what kept her safe from those wanting eyes men could get when they saw a pretty thing they wanted to play with.

This one was quite different. Though he was clearly a man from the shape of his chest and about as tall as she was –she guessed, for he was still sitting on the floor- he had a feminine look about him and she could see why some would want to use someone like him. With that long hair and fair face, perhaps they could even imagine he was a girl if they did not look too closely. Men were weird that way.

"What's your name?" The boy asked again, gently.

"Hilde." Her voice was more steady than she had expected.

"Well Hilde, nice to meet you." The slave spoke. "Hey, did you see what the master gave me?" He held up his hand and something was in it, but Hilde could not quite see what it was. "Do you know if he does that more often? He's never given me anything before."

Hilde edged closer, curious, clutching the laundry to her chest, until she could see. In the palm of his hand lay what looked to be a large gem or a crystal, light purple and shining even though no specific light fell on it. It was quite pretty and unlike anything Hilde had seen before.

She shook her head. "I don't know if Master Heero's ever given anyone something like that." She said. "What is it?"

The boy shrugged. "Dunno." He said, looking more closely at it. "I was hoping you knew."

"Sorry." She started turning away, hands still full of laundry.

"Hey, wait a minute. Please, don't go yet. I don't get to see many people."

She figured that was true. Master Heero was always busy and Miss Maxwell as well. Neither would be spending much time up here, she figured. "I don't have much time." She said apologetically, nodding to the laundry.

"Well, just a second then." The boy answered. "Have another look at the crystal. Maybe you'll remember seeing something like it." He was now holding it out for her to take.

Figuring it couldn't hurt to humour him –it must be lonely up here all alone for what, nearly two months now- she shifted the load of laundry so she could take the crystal. That didn't help her recognise it any better, though. She fingered it for a moment and then looked up. Strangely enough, the boy was staring at the chains that held his shackles, almost as if he expected something to happen. But nothing happened.

"Here, I really have to go now." She held out the crystal again. He took it, but he looked disappointed about something. "It looks pretty, though. He must be pleased with you if he gave you something like that." She said, trying to cheer him up.

"Yeah, I'll bet." It sounded like he did not mean it.

Hilde decided she didn't want to know.

When Heero came up with dinner that evening he found that the crystal was indeed on the table and the boy sitting on the floor, away from it. The slave had not had the amount of chain he'd needed to change the bed. Therefore, Heero put the food out of his range and walked over to the table, taking the crystal. He gave him more chain and stood back.

"Get to work."

The boy knew he was in trouble for taking the crystal and for not giving it back immediately. He just didn't know how much trouble he was in. Neither of them spoke. For Heero that was not strange, but for the boy not to make even one clever remark was a clear sign that he was uncomfortable. He glanced at his master every now and then, but Heero could not read through that guarded look on his face.

When the bed was changed, Heero handed him his meal and nodded to the wall. The boy understood. He retreated and Heero retracted the chains until he could not move more than a couple of inches from the wall.

He took his time eating. Sometimes the boy ate as fast as he could, shoving everything down as if afraid it would be taken from him. Now he was deliberately being slow at it, apparently trying to delay his punishment some more. When he finished and put the plate on the table, which he could only barely reach now, Heero stepped forward.

"Kneel."

The boy threw him an insolent look, but obeyed nevertheless. He sank to his knees gracefully, arms by his side, looking up unimpressed.

That was not a proper way for a slave to kneel. "Sit back." The boy understood and lowered his ass to his heels.

"Hands behind your back." Heero said. The boy barely moved, so Heero touched the crystal. The shackles on the wrists flew together and the slave grunted, but kept looking at him cheekily. "Keep them there." Heero said and released the force that drew the shackles together. If the boy was surprised by this, he did not show it. He just stayed still on his knees.

"Eyes to the floor." That the boy did not do. Instead his scowl became more fierce, defiant. Heero stepped forward and grabbed the boy's scalp and forced his head to look down. The slave hunched over and when Heero stepped back the boy did not look up again.

Heero eyed him for a moment. Something seemed off. He didn't look like the Shinigami, even if Heero pictured that glare he was certain adorned the boy's face. This pose did not really capture any of the slave's spirit. He moved to stand behind the slave and pulled his shoulders back. When the boy used that as a cue to look up, Heero simply pushed the head back to face the floor.

That was better. It was submissive but the straight shoulders showed enough spirit. He didn't need to see this one cowering. "Remember this position," he said, then ordered "Stand up."

Without delay the slave obeyed. He raised his head again to look at his master, but one warning glare from Heero had him lower his gaze again, scowling.

"Kneel." The boy almost had it right. Heero corrected him, none too gently and had him stand up again, kneel again and stand up again.

So he did know how to obey orders. Good. "Kneel."

This time when the boy knelt, Heero did not tell him to stand up again. Instead he moved to stand right before the slave, making sure the Shinigami could see his feet.

"You stole from me." He said coldly. "And the item you stole from me was taken in an attempt to escape."

"That's not true." Came the immediate denial.

Heero frowned. He'd not asked a question, he'd made a statement. He'd not expected the boy to speak up. "What was that?" His voice didn't lose the cold tone.

"I didn't take it to escape, Master."

"Hn?" Really? "Then why did you take it, slave?"

"I just..." The boy looked tense, but he didn't move.

"Well?" Heero asked impatiently.

"I just wanted out for a moment."

Heero raised an eyebrow, aware the boy could not see. "Out?"

"Yeah."

"You're in them because you can't be trusted." Heero answered calmly. "You've proven that today."

The boy made a disagreeing sound and his head turned slightly sideways. "It's not like you give me any trust."

"Trust isn't given, it is earned."

Heero was getting impatient with the boy's remarks, but the slave either didn't notice or didn't care. "How the hell am I supposed to earn it if you don't fucking give me a chance?!"

"Enough!" Heero's hand struck across the slave's cheek hard enough to leave a mark. The slave had obviously expected it, because he did not make a sound, just scowled and kept his head averted.

The boy wanted a chance to earn his trust? Then he should lose those edges of defiance he held onto and start obeying a little better. Heero did not believe for a moment the boy hadn't had escape in mind. The whole thing had been planned out too carefully for that. He'd had plenty of opportunities to steal the crystal before if he could pickpocket it that easily. Instead he'd bided his time until Heero eased up with him, not always forcing him back to the wall before leaving the room.

No, this had not been planned just so he could go on a casual stroll throughout the mansion. Heero was certain of that. "Tonight you will not move unless I say so. And then only as I say."

The boy did not move. Good. Heero left him kneeling on the floor for now and moved to his adjoining chambers. When he came back a few minutes later the boy was still in the same kneeling position. Kneeling for a length of time was not pleasant. Slaves were often made to do it and he was certain this boy had been made to kneel for some time by some of his previous masters, but these past two months he had hardly made him kneel at all.

That evening Heero sat in his comfortable chair reading a book. Every so many pages he would tell the boy to change position, switching only between kneeling and standing. He kept this up until he decided it was time for bed. Only then did he allow the boy to move on his own again, giving him just enough chain to lie down for sleep.

It was late that night, or perhaps early in the morning when Lord Heero was woken by strange sounds. He heard frantic movement coming from the slave and strange mumbling accompanied it. Heero lit a candle to see.

The blankets were moving as the slave was thrashing. He seemed to be asleep though, caught in a nightmare. Heero did nothing for a moment, just listened and looked. The Shinigami didn't mumble anything distinct, but he seemed to be fighting something. Grumbling in annoyance, Heero got out of bed to wake him. He placed the candle on the table, satisfied that the boy was not positioned to knock it over and then knelt by the boy, trying to shake him awake.

The slave woke with a start, tried to lash outat Heero, but found his movement blocked by the chain attached to the shackle on his wrist. In those eyes Heero saw again that wild, mad look that he associated with Shinigami as the boy glared at him, panting. It took the boy a couple of seconds to calm down enough to realise where he was and who Heero was. The Shinigami look disappeared and the slave boy looked away, curling up almost as if embarrassed.

Only then did Heero notice that both of the boy's wrists were bleeding. Must have happened while he struggled against those shackles in his nightmare, trying to get away from whatever he'd been dreaming of.

It had to be taken care of. Heero left the boy on the floor and got up. After a few moments he returned, kneeling at the boy's back, bandages in one hand, the crystal in the other. He'd have to release the wrists to bandage them. One at the time should do. He grabbed one of the boy's arms and held it tight enough to restrain him if he tried something, but not tight enough to hurt if he cooperated. Then, after taking a deep breath, he ordered the crystal to release the shackle.

The metal opened up in a crack that had not been visible before and fell to the floor with a clang. The boy tried to turn, surprised. Heero merely drew the injured wrist closer to him and examined it. The injury wasn't bad, the bleeding already stopped. It wouldn't need much time to heal if the boy didn't try and pull them on purpose. Quietly, Heero started bandaging it. The slave watched him warily, but he did not struggle. Instead he looked more and more tired by the minute, although that could also just be the light from the candle.

When he finished bandaging one wrist, Heero put the shackle back on the wrist and it closed over the bandages at his will. Then he took hold of the other wrist and did the same as with the first. When he was done, he shackled it again, pulled the discarded blanket back over the boy's slim form and stood up. Before he climbed back in his own bed, he could've sworn he'd heard a quiet "Thank you." coming from the boy's direction. It could have just been the wind, though.

princess/rlyblue

So, now that the Shinigami has an understanding of how heero's control works, Heero believes it's time for Duo to be trained. A small step in the right direction. Do you think Duo should have fought harder? He's far from a well-trained slave yet. And do you like this other side of Duo I tried to show in this chapter? Does it fit his character of do you think he's too OOC? That's always a fine line to walk when writing an AU, where the characters have different backgrounds from the cannon stories. I love you guys letting me know what you think!