AN: Sorry it's taking so long I don't really like to type.
Disclaimer: Hell why doesn't Sunrise just give us the rights to them. It would make things so much easier.
Italics denotes thoughts
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Spoils of War Ch: 2
"Oh, hello, I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting." Quatre greeted the boy, belatedly remembering being given a slave. The boy shrugged indifferently. He was tall, taller than Quatre by at least two or three inches. Deep green eyes –Emeralds Quatre thought absently- and a finely sculpted face stared back at the prince, or the half that Quatre could see. The left side was covered by a long cinnamon colored bang. He was clothed in traditional slave's garb, though Quatre found it a little impractical. The vest was hunter green, trimmed and embroidered with gold. The pants were a simple off-white color and flared out along the hip and leg, tied at the waist by a hunter green sash and gathered at the ankles. The long green ends trailing from the knotted belt brushed against the floor. A gold slave's collar encircled his throat and a pair of gold cuffs were on his wrists. A small bit of wire was twisted into loops around his right bicep. As customary his feet were bare. Quatre could see the powerful muscles that had made this boy, who couldn't be much older than himself, a soldier.
The gold he wore highlighted his bronze skin: so much darker than Quatre's or most people's skin in Sudest. The dark skin, unusual eye color, and looks in general made this boy what most slave traders call an exotic catch. Quatre sighed and turned away. He couldn't remember any delegate from Nord looking remotely as exotic as the boy in front of him.
Trowa closely examined his new…master? He shrugged, I suppose Heero and I could escape, but a whole lot of good that would do. Their horses and weapons had been taken away. Trowa silently pitied the man who had the task of caring for his horse. Trowa smirked as his eyes traveled over the crown prince. Short was the first word to come to mind, second was delicate. The boy had a willowy build and a distinctly effeminate look. The short, light blonde locks that rivaled sunshine and large cerulean eyes on an adorable heart-shaped face, combined with the fairest skin Trowa had ever seen and rose tinting on his cheeks and lips made the boy look nothing short of angelic. The rest of the prince was just as delicate. Under the loose blue shirt and white pants he wore, Trowa could see he was slender and built more like the fairer sex. His hands and feet were small as well. But Trowa knew better than to trust looks. A pretty heart could hide a cruel heart. When the blonde spoke his gentle voice was thick with the soft accent of Sudest.
Trowa noted how uncomfortable the prince was and wondered if he had caused that discomfort. Quatre shuffled to his bed and flopped onto it, face first.
"I'm sorry," Quatre's voice muffled until he rolled onto his side to gaze at his slave. "I haven't even asked your name. Mine is Quatre Rebarba Winner."
"What does it matter…" The boy replied quietly. His voice was soft and didn't have the hard clipped tones prominent in the Nord kingdom.
"I'd still like to know." Quatre pressed.
"As you wish…master." Quatre saw the boy wince as he said master and sighed in sympathy. "Trowa Barton."
"Trowa…" Quatre murmured the name experimentally. "And what is your companion's name, Trowa?"
"Heero Yuy, master." Another wince. They sat in awkward silence a few minutes before Quatre sighed loudly.
"I'm failing at this aren't I?" Quatre smiled propping his chin on his hand.
"Pardon?" Trowa looked up, mild surprise on his stony features.
"I've never had a slave before." Quatre admitted dismissively. "I don't quite know what to do with you…Sorry," Quatre flinched, and Trowa was surprised by the apology. "I'm referring to you as if you were livestock or an object. You're a human and as such you should be treated as one."
A small smile graced Trowa's face but he said nothing. After several minutes of silence Quatre spoke again.
"You don't talk much do you?"
Trowa seemed to consider the question but before he had a chance to answer a knock came through the door.
"Yes?" Quatre called standing and walking to the door.
"His Highness' presence is requested in the dining hall for the banquet." A servant replied.
"The banquet! I forgot! I'll be there in the moment, thank you." Quatre called through the door before rushing back into the bedroom. "I've got to get down to the dining hall." Quatre explained to Trowa as he pulled his cloak back on. " I don't think you'd like to come. It's not very pleasant, even for me."
Quatre was hastily attaching several platinum bracelets to his wrists.
"Slaves sit at their master's feet and only eat if they are fed…I HATE FORMALS! Where is that damned circlet?!" Quatre had snapped a platinum chain, from which a charm dangled, around his neck and was searching frantically for his circlet. He cried out triumphantly as he pulled a ring of platinum from a drawer and placed it on his head. "I'll have something sent up to you ok?"
Trowa nodded and Quatre flashed him a smile before darting out the door. If Trowa was anything it was confused. The prince was nothing like the annoying, ignorant boy Dermail had described but then the Duke hadn't exactly been a peach either so really anyone was probably better than him. Trowa found it hard to believe he was His Highness' first slave. But still something about the blonde's behavior was off. He had treated Trowa as an equal not a possession. Watching the sunset Trowa decided that Quatre might not be all he appeared.
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Duo grumbled under his breath as he strode down the hall; a stack of paper under one arm a heavy bag in the other. When he'd left Quatre he had planned to disappear into his rooms for the night. But Rashid had caught him in the hall and insisted giving him the war report, then the Prime Minister's servant had sought him out and dragged him to Prime Minister Treize who had wanted his opinion on the dining hall decorations and the food. After checking over both and fixing all the glitches in seating and such Duo had told the cook to send two plates of food up to his room. The cook had given him an odd look but had promised to do so.
The advisor would have gone to his room immediately but knew that his slave would need more clothing. Stopping at the place seamstress' room Duo had been pleasantly surprised when they had turned out to be prepared for the request with several outfits. He also requested the clothes the slaves had originally arrived in be cleaned, mended, and returned. Collecting the package Duo began heading back to his room. Reaching the door he sighed in relief. Unlocking the door Duo hauled his bundles into a strangely dark room.
Dropping the papers and package on his bed, Duo crossed the room and threw aside the curtains.
"Why are ya' sittin' here in the dark?"" Duo asked the boy sitting directly behind him on the edge of his bed. Stony blue eyes stared impassively at him from under a mass of unruly mahogany locks. No answer. Duo shrugged "Not big on talking? Ok, whatever floats your boat I always say."
Unclipping the black cloak from around his shoulders Duo shook it out. "Hey, could you be a sweetheart and hang that up for me please?" Duo tossed the length of black clothe at the boy who caught it and gave him a puzzled look before standing and hanging the article on a nearby peg.
"Thanks" Duo called as he collected the discarded paperwork and placed it on his desk. After arranging the stacks of paper into a state of semi, sort of, not really order Duo turned to appraise his "gift".
The boy was roughly Duo's size but a little more powerfully built with the finely tapered muscles of a soldier. The dark chocolate locks spiked sporadically down shadowing his eyes, which were piercing midnight blue. Sharp defined his features, hard and serious. Duo noted he was robed in a traditional slave's outfit, which tickled Duo's sense of the ridiculous. A dark blue vest trimmed with silver designs covered most of the boy's upper body. A long dark blue sash held up the loose off-white pants, the trailing ends dangled around the boy's ankles. Below the gathered ankles he wore no shoes, as was the tradition. A silver cuff encircled each wrist and a slave's collar, also silver, was clasped around his throat. In the red-gold glow of the setting sun Duo could truly appreciate the dark tan the other possessed. A quick glance down at his own hands revealed pale peach.
From a slave trader's point of view the boy was a rare find and worth a pretty penny, from the average owner's point of view he was an expensive catch and a beautiful trophy, but Duo saw him as neither. He saw a potential friend.
"I'm Duo Maxwell, I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie. What's your name?" The braided boy grinned cheerily.
"Heero Yuy," the low voice rolled with a heavy Estern accent, not a Nord accent.
Come to think of it, Duo mused, He doesn't look remotely Northern. His skin and hair were fair too dark. Most people from Nord were fair all over with strangely colored eyes.
Heero similarly assessed his "master", Duo. The advisor was about his height and had large expressive violet eyes and a heart-shaped face. The yard long rope of chestnut hair had been the first thing Heero had spotted when Duo took off his mantle. Heero briefly wondered why the advisor kept it hidden under the long black garment. Without it Heero could see that Duo was slender in build though not delicate. Heero could sense a strange underlying strength in him. Heero was surprised to see the royal advisor, a rather high and important person, was a boy who looked no older than himself.
He wore a black shirt and pants of a style that differed greatly from normal Sudest or even Nord clothing. The shirt fit loosely over his arms and chest but laced up the front. The pants were tight, fitting the long legs snuggly. He wore a pair of black shoes that were heavier than the usual every day slippers and sandals of most people. In fact they resembled riding boots. Heero had a feeling the clothes were specially made just for Duo.
Duo's behavior confused Heero even more. He acted like a friendly acquaintance rather than the conniving, cruel master Dermail had complained about. But then Dermail could hardly be trusted.
After a moment Duo nodded turning back to the desk.
"I'm sorry Heero, but tonight you've got a pretty poor excuse for a roomie. I told Quat that I had some work to do, and as I said before I never lie. So why don't you make yourself comfortable, it's gonna be a long night."
Picking up the nearest document Duo began to peruse the script.