Title: Portentum

Author: ArlenSayos

Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters in it

Story Focus: Quatre and Trowa

Story Pairings: 3x4, 1xR, 2xH, 5xM and many more in the near future

Chapter Pairings: None

Story Warnings: Both yaoi and hetero relationships

Chapter Warnings: Implication of violence

AN: I really think this is too long to be a prologue, but I don't want to call it a chapter since no plot advances are made. This page of writing really just serves as a summary of the characters backgrounds and platform for the story to build on, so despite its length this is just the introduction to my story.

Though my Latin is absolutely horrid (meaning: I know diddlysquat about the language and have to look anything loosely related to it up on internet) I believe 'Portentum' means 'excellent story'… or something relatively close to that, anyway. Hopefully you'll understand why later on. If I'm wrong, please don't correct me or urge me to change the title; its going to stick, right or wrong.

Please enjoy!

-Prologue-

AU: Trowa, the prince of Satulurain, longs for a life free of duty and affliction. Quatre, a noble long ago stripped of his rank and inheritance, has been reduced to a servant in his stepmother's household. Both long to be free, but have strayed down different paths to achieve their goals. Will finding each other help the two attain theirdreams and more?

Trowa

Once upon a time, in the far away land of Satulurain, there existed a great, vibrant city; Kumania. It was ruled by the righteous and just king, Trevet Bloom. Under his rule, the people lived in utter and unquestionable bliss, for King Trevet was a pacifist; a blessing of a monarch during an age where bordering countries had succumbed to fighting amongst themselves for both land and wealth. They were delightfully entranced by the travesty that so long as Trevet was the lord and master of Satulurain woods, waters and fields the threat of homes and families being forever damaged by the violence of war was impossible. Those that said otherwise were thoroughly looked down upon by their neighbors, for all of Satulurain held their King in high regard.

What reason did they have to think ill of him? King Trevet was as kind as he was merciful and a uniquely brilliant scholar. Yes, he collected taxes from the people, but what he accumulated from the common peasant was small, and little of the minute fortune was destined to stay in his royal treasury anyway. He poured his riches into programs that granted his people free education for those who weren't like the few fortunate enough to be endowed with families rich enough to supply them with a tutor. He also crafted housing for those that had no place to go and fed those that hadn't the means to feed themselves.

Yes, King Trevet was loved by nobility, commoner, and street urchin alike, but none cared more for the exalted lord then his loving family. King Trevet had married only once, and the bride had been the beautiful, fiery haired rose Lady Latanya of Felton. She was his queen, his companion, and greatest alley in his struggle to rid Satulurain of all sorrow.

Shortly after exchanging vows during a wedding ceremony that all were invited to attend, the happily wed couple instantly realized that they wished to be parents. Thus, their lovely daughter Catherine came into existence. The princess of the kingdom had inherited her mother's ravishing locks of red hair and took from her father his all knowing, icy blue eyes. The Lady Catherine grew into a beautiful child, free from the spoils normally granted to noble children. Her parents wanted her to be free from the ignorance that was normally integrated into the upper-class populace so that she would one day bloom into a stunningly wise and beautiful woman.

As such, the Princess developed a sharp mind and eye for detail. She was also very compassionate about tending to the needs of those less fortunate then herself. Apple of her parents' eye, Catherine was tenderly raised by both king and queen. It was through them that she came to understand the necessity of peace in an age of war at a very young age.

When the young princess turned thirteen, Queen Latanya gave birth to her second child. The naming of the child was a complicated issue. Both mother and father wished to give their son the name of the great Ocean God Triton; a name vastly suitable for one who would later succeed the thrown. Catherine, however, thought differently. In her eyes, Triton was a name meant for a war ruler; unfit for someone who was to become the next pacifist king of Satulurain. Holding her baby brother lovingly in her arms, the young princess bestowed upon him the name Trowa, which came across as very whimsical name to both the King and Queen. However, in a sense it did suit their son. Trowa was a name that was commonly associated with the number 'three', and was to be the third Bloom to inherit the throne when he came of age.

Being the one to name the baby prince filled Catherine with an emotion that only an elder sibling could truly contribute from; a sense of duty. She was Trowa's elder sibling, and as such had an obligation to protect him. This was a duty she would never trifle with; the fiery haired beauty decided then and there that no one would ever threaten her sweet little brother. If they dared to, they would have to deal with her first, and in time, one would discover that the Lady Catherine was not someone you would come out of a quarrel with unscathed.

The royal family lived in happiness until their son reached the age of six. With their neighbors, the oriental Kingdom of Dracobrand and the grand Kingdom of Avisaithne, threatening to invade and spread their war to Satulurain lands, peace conferences between the countries became more and more of a necessity in the eyes of King Trevet. The Sanq Kingdom bordering Dracobrand had already suffered the horrors of an assassination that stole from them the lives of King and Queen Peacecraft. The only survivor of the attack had been their two young children, Prince Milliardo and Princess Relena. As a result, Milliardo was now King of the Sanq Kingdom, at the mere age of fifteen; Trevet, ironically, vowed that he would die before seeing his son put through a similar situation.

Satulurain agreed to meet with the other three countries to discuss peace. Trevet had, at first, decided to go alone, not wanting to endanger the lives of both his wife and children; but Latanya and Catherine had begged and pleaded to stay by his side. The poor king couldn't even look to his son Trowa for help; he was as enthusiastic about the trip as his wife and daughter.

The entire royal family was to travel to the conference, hosted in Kumania, by means of the royal carriage, but the even observant Catherine felt as though something were terribly wrong. A vision of fields ablaze and buildings asunder passed through her mind; it was an omen of terrible things that she knew would come to pass, and soon.

Catherine told her parents of her foreboding premonitions and begged them not to attend the conference, but King Tevet merely though his daughter ill for believing that he could ignore the presence of their important guests due of a mere suspicion. He ordered her to stay in the care of her nanny, Margaret, and be treated by the family doctor as soon as possible. Not wanting to leave her husband's side despite her daughter's disturbing vision of a dastardly act destined to be committed against her husband, Latanya entrusted Trowa to Margaret as well, claiming that he had caught a fever and was in no condition to be outside of the castle. She went to her husband, believing that it was her duty to be by his side, even if death were to be the consequence of her actions.

The King and Queen weren't fortunate enough to learn that they had spared their children from a terrible fate that day. Another assassination attempt had occurred, and they were its prime targets. A cart ablaze, run only by a terrified horse, headed blindly for the King and Queen's royal carriage in a mad daze as it futilely attempted to escape the fire. At first no one was immediately worried, but as the wild cart collided with the royal carriage, notice of the foreign fire powder aboard became recognized.

Upon collision, both wooden transportation vehicles were torn apart, and all within proximity of the crash were killed. The bodies of King and Queen Bloom were never recovered, as they had been chard to soot long before the fire had finally been dowsed. The neighboring royal carriages also caught ablaze, but none had been near enough to the disaster to receive any injuries. The King and Queen of Dracobrand, Avisaithne, and the newly appointed King Milliardo Peacecraft of Sanq all escaped their carriages, but could do little nothing to save the king or queen who died instantly after the explosion.

Not wanting the efforts of their rulers to be in vein, the people of Satulurain insisted that the meetings proceed in the safety of the castle. Upon entering the building the royals discovered Princess Catherine crying in the halls of the castle, holding an equally distressed Prince Trowa to her chest as she wailed out of pure sorrow and anguish. At this moment, one could say that Catherine was responsible for the end of the Great War; for it was her tears that made the royals realize that all those who lost family mourned the dead, and that such sorrow could not be cured by richer landscapes or high mountains of gold won by war and death. They settled their past digressions and ended the fighting for good.

They decided that the royal families would meet four times a year at each change in the season in order to keep their morals of peace alive. An investigation was placed into the cause of the fire that destroyed Satulurain's king and queen, and Lord Winner of Anila was sentenced to death after they discovered that the imported gunpowder could only have come from his warehouse. Shortly after his hanging, however, a flaw in their detective work was discovered.

Abra Winner was a pacifist, and although that could have been a ploy to earn the countries trust, he had many children (thirty, to be exact) and the risk of sending his entire family to the poor house due to an act of treason seemed like a gamble the wise Winner would not make. Thus, persecutors quickly regretted sentencing the man to death with so little evidence backing their claims.

With further investigation they soon learned that Abra never personally handled any of his affairs. He was a wealthy man with a business to run and a family to spend time with; he left management of the warehouse to the servants that normally did all the backbreaking labor in his stead. They discovered that only one man was in possession of the key to the warehouse; Yuda, a high ranking worker in Abra's business. After capturing and interrogating the man, he quickly confirmed their suspicions of his terrorist actions by admitting to their claims in a state of madness and hysterics. He was quickly sentenced to death and peace seemed to be restored to Satulurain.

Catherine, being vastly mature for her age and beyond her years in wisdom, would assume rule of the kingdom until her brother came of age. However, fearing that another massacre of the royal family, a strict law was instigated; Trowa had to be eighteen and happily wed before he succeeded the thrown; this was to ensure that he produced an heir, making that the future of the royal Bloom line was ensured. If he failed to do as the law commanded, right to rule would slip from his grasp and be bestowed upon the next rightful ruler, Mariemaia Barton, formally Mariemaia Khushrenada. After the loss of her father and mother to illness, she was put in the care of her grandfather, Dekim Barton.

However, the Lady Catherine was no fool and knew that if her brother failed to rule, it wouldn't be Mariemaia taking over; she was a puppet controlled by Dekim, a greedy man that would most likely lead the land to ruin if he were even allowed the smallest leakage of power. It was with this knowledge that the fiery haired girl tried to give Trowa the initiative to follow the law and protect the land their mother and father died to preserve.

As the young prince grew, he found himself becoming more and more restrained by the duties that came with royal birth. Though the prince loved his sister dearly and knew that she was a blessing to all of Satulurain, he was also aware of the fact that he was nothing like her at all (and he certainly did not appreciate her preaching of marriage when she was at the ripe old age of thirty one and still husbandless).

Trowa was different from Catherine in that he had not been torn from a noble lifestyle like her. He lived a spoiled and pampered life because his parents hadn't been present to stop him from entering a world of snobbery like they had for Catherine.

The prince was handsome even before reaching manhood, with his father's blonde-brown hair and mother's stunning emerald eyes, kind to those that were fortunate enough to get in his good graces and earn his trust, and so intelligent that the country marveled and how close his intellect resembled his father's. However, for every good point of his, Trowa had an equal, far more noticeable, fault.

He was every bit as whimsical as his name, for starters. Trowa was an oddity even amongst nobles. He had an immense dislike for his status in life despite the fact that he couldn't possibly function at all without finely cooked meals, a soft, feather stuffed bed, and servants to wait on his every whim and command. He believed that his birthright to care for people that had the primal instincts to live without an overseeing monarch telling them what and whatnot to do was no birthright at all and that their order for him to marry so that he could make sons and daughters to rekindle the family line was a cruel curse that they had no right to place upon him.

In fact, if Catherine hadn't threatened to nail him to a wall and throw darts at him until he resembled a porcupine, spike for spike, if he ever thought about passing the right to rule onto Mariemaia Barton and her grandfather, Trowa would have decided long ago to simply keep the luxury of royal living and pass on all his duties to someone who actually wanted them.

Instead, Trowa tried to enjoy what he had dubbed his 'years of freedom'. No one really knew what the prince did during these years, for he wasn't the sort to share his thoughts with anyone other then Catherine (whom he lovingly called Cathy). Another fault of Trowa's; his unwillingness to associated with others was the spawn of disrespect for all but his sibling, who he quite admired for her selflessness… selflessness that he knew he'd never be able to duplicate. In short, Trowa only cared about two people in all of Satulurain; Himself and Cathy. Everyone else was just using him for his title. Men wished to meet Trowa to get in his good graces so that after he became king he would send royal gifts their way; ones that would raise their prestige and status greatly. Woman flirted with him for two reasons; the first being that he was an absolutely beautiful sight to behold and the second being that seducing him meant a possibility at one day becoming queen.

How he loved Cathy's cold blue eyes that could beat off the unworthy pursuers of his affection as well as a mettle club would, were it held menacingly above their delicate, empty heads. The Princess was looking out for Trowa in more ways then one; she was ensuring that his land remained unspoiled for his succession while seeing to it that Trowa didn't commit himself to someone that wasn't worthy of becoming queen.

His hatred of court woman had not been made obvious because of his normally blank, uncaring, and almost bratty mask that he wore at all times; it was hard to believe that one as 'aloof' as he could despise anyone at all. However, whenever Trowa spoke to a court damsel, his lines were always condescending and short. Unfortunately, his cold manner of speaking did little to turn them off; if anything, it simply increased their giddiness tenfold. In time, Trowa realized there were very few woman he could respect… the few being Catherine, the Lady Dorothy Catalonia, and a young girl named Hilde.

Dorothy was an interesting woman who loved to taunt him whenever she caught him with his mask down, moping about his royal predicament, but she was always there to get him out of a pinch when need for her aid and knowledge arose. For a noble, she possessed an amazing array of philosophical, scientific, and common knowledge that even Trowa, dubbed one of the brightest in all of Satulurain, did no possess. She was also an excellent swordswoman and Cathy had confided in him that it was Dorothy who had shown her how to defend herself with throwing daggers and dueling knives.

Trowa was taught how to use the sword by the master of the Satulurain's Royal Knights, Heero Yuy, adopted son of the great and widely spoken of Sword Master, Odin Lowe. Heero was one of the few people that Trowa respected, for Heero was like an immensely aggressive version of himself. Heero was powerful, strong, and knew it. One could say he possessed the confidence Trowa lacked. Put the two together and one would immediately see Heero as an embodiment of strength and courage while Trowa symbolized knowledge and unbreakable serenity. However, they were the same in that they did not care much for petty conversation and trusted in each other's abilities and opinions. It was the similarities that caused to two to become friends over the years. They knew they could speak to each other whenever a good listener was needed.

Hilde was Trowa's childhood friend and daughter of his old nanny, Margaret. Always friendly and caring, Trowa had dubbed Hilde a worrywart on a number of occasions (these occasions usually involved him, Heero, and permission from his sister to explore the landscape). Born and raised in the castle of Satulurain, Hilde knew all about the assassination of Trowa's parents and couldn't help feeling terribly worried for his safety whenever he took to leaving the castle, even if he would be in the company of a knight as well trained as Heero. In the end, however, she would always wind up placing her confidence in Heero and let the two go without quarrel; she'd even pack them a lunch if she feared they wouldn't be arriving home anytime soon.

If there was any girl in the kingdom Trowa would love to take as he wife, it was Hilde, but he knew she was viewed as little more then a scullery maid in the eyes of many and that this choice of his would be turned down by all, even Cathy who cared for Hilde like a sister. Plus, the thought of having children with the girl wasn't one of immense appeal to the prince. Such… 'interactions'… were meant to be held between a different sort of friends, not the type him and Hilde were. He was so eager to marry someone that possessed common sense that he had even brought the idea of marriage up with Dorothy, but the blonde simply laughed in his face and said that she'd sooner die then be used as his scapegoat.

It was around this time, when Trowa acknowledged that his choices were very limited. That being the case, he sought out Heero's advice. It did not take long for the prince to find the sword master; he was in the library, hidden amongst the shelves, playing a game of chess against Hilde and dominating the board. Trowa smiled lightly; he wouldn't have expected anything else.

"Yes?" the stoic, brown haired knight asked, brows coming together as he thought over his next move. Hilde, though losing, seemed a lot calmer about the game then her opponent.

"Come to share your troubles with us again I see." she turned around, presenting Trowa with a pleasant smile while resting back in her chair. "Alright, what have you been moping about this time?"

"The same old plight." Trowa replied in a sort of laugh, closing his eyes as he relaxed into a chair near the window, opened to allow some fresh air into the otherwise musty library. "Though I must say, the damsels are certainly making it a lot more difficult then normal. It's taxing."

"Pfft." Hilde rolled her eyes and moved her queen across the board, taking down one of Heero's knights in the process. This move was done more to ruffle the fighter's feathers then anything else; the knight was one of Heero's favorite chess pieces, for obvious reasons. Still, he showed no signs of being angered by the move. "Yes, poor you, having every girl in the kingdom fall at your feet. Oh the travesties of being loved-HEY!"

Hilde had returned her attention to the board just in time to witness Heero's pawn take down her queen. "How did I miss that?" she asked herself, slightly embarrassed by the move.

"By forgetting that even the weakest piece can be a threat if placed in the proper position?" Heero offered calmly, eyes never leaving the board.

Not at all put out by the off topic banter of his friends, Trowa continued. "Hilde, you will never understand what it's like being a shell." He sighed, frowning noticeably. "It would be false modesty to claim that I wasn't… handsome, and though I'm sure that contributes to the ladies' desires, I know that in the end they're all only after my title, not me. My looks are just a nice accessory to the overall package."

Once again, the kitchen maid rolled her eyes. "I think I would have preferred false modesty to hearing you talk about how good looking you are…" Heero cleared his throat, a polite way of telling Hilde that it was her turn, and one move later she was once again addressing Trowa's problem. "But this isn't really about the court flowers, is it?" she asked, raising a thin black eyebrow at him questioningly. "The real problem is you not wanting to rule the Kingdom of Satulurain."

"To an extent, yes." Trowa sighed, delicately running a hand through his bangs before he continued. "The more aggravating of the two cases is the marriage issue, but in the long run I believe my real problem is the fact that I'm a selfish bastard that only cares about running his own life, not everyone in the kingdom's." These words work spoken with both ease and calm, for Trowa never had been one for keeping traits of his character hidden from his friends. His mask of 'perfection' was only worn when in the company of those he could not let down his barriers for.

"Trowa, this land needs a ruler." Hilde started, brows furrowed. "Don't get me wrong, Lady Catherine is a caring, passionate leader, but she's a woman." The dark haired girl was now smiling bitterly. "Let's face it, these days we don't command the same respect you males do. She'll only last so long, Your Highness. As a brother, shouldn't you put some of her troubles to rest by accepting your duties without question?"

"Yes, I should," Trowa replied, down casting his eyes, "but that is only because the court bound me unfairly to a set of rules the common man is free of. Yes, they try to pay retribution for it by acquitting me with gold and servants," he then turned his serious green eyes to his friends, who were now both paying serious attention to his plight, "but only a fool would think that freedom could be so easily replaced with riches. My sister, the Lady Catherine, knows how to contribute to her duties, both as a sister and caretaker for the people. That being said, I believe she would make a far better Queen then I a King, and still…"

Trowa sighed and rose to his feet so that he could gaze out the window and take in view of the countryside, where both nobles and peasants lived free from the constraints of royal duty. "The people must turn their backs to me again! If I do not marry a lady of noble birth, that with eventually bare me a child and heir, my thrown is passed to Mariemaia, which would be fine if not for Cathy." Closing his eyes, not wanting to look upon a freedom that he'd never be able to experience for a moment longer, Trowa turned from the window. "As a prince, it is said that I am to be denied nothing, yet how can they keep from me what I desire most." For not the first time in his life, Trowa looked upon his friends with lost eyes. "What do I do?"

"Do as your heart tells you." Shocked, both Trowa and Hilde focused on Heero, who silently muttered 'checkmate' as his friends viewed him in awe. Such heartfelt advice was seldom heard from the knight, and he had spoken with such noticeable conviction that Trowa knew he was meant to take this advice to heart.

"How can I do that," Trowa asked carefully, knowing that going against one of Heero's morals, though not taboo, was disrespectful, "when I feel that even my own heart is bound by the law and rule of this kingdom?"

This time it was Hilde's turn to give her insight to the situation. "Simple." She smiled devilishly while her dark blue eyes narrowed with mischief. "Break the rules." Trowa frowned, knowing what Catherine would do to him if he was ever discovered going against her wishes. He was about to voice his concerns when Hilde interrupted, "What's the point in being royalty if you can't do whatever the hell you wish? Escape the castle and enjoy life, and freedom, while you're still capable!"

While Trowa pondered on this new philosophy, Heero began speaking again. "No one can be deprived of freedom, Trowa." He started, folding his arms over his chest while eyeing his friend seriously. "Everyone has a right to it. You just need the eyes to see it to experience it. Your birthday is four months away. That's four potential months of freedom if you pay no mind to the ritual visit of Dracobrand, Avisaithne and Sanq. What rules you chose to disobey or follow in that time is entirely up to you, but caution. Do not let this opportunity to live for yourself slip away."

It took only a moment for Trowa's brain to mull over what his friends were saying before he realized he had been foolish not to have reached their conclusions on his own. Smiling slightly, he chuckled under his breath. "I suppose… I haven't been living the way I wanted to these past year, have I?" The prince didn't need his friends' confirmation to know that the weight of his future had been keeping him in check without his knowledge. "My own ignorance saddens me." After letting out a relieved sigh, Trowa slumped back into the comforts the stone wall behind him had to provide. "I think you two are really going to regret making a rebel out of me."

At that proclamation, Hilde let out an excited squeak and clapped her hands. Heero smirked and closed his eyes, glad that his friend had soaked up their advice like a sponge. "So, Prince Trowa, does your heart wish to experience today?"

Trowa returned the smirk, closing his eyes as well. "I thought the three of us might take a horse ride into the countryside while being pursued by the royal guards, who will most likely notice our disappearance moments after our departure from the castle."

"Me?" Hilde asked meekly, excitement faltering for a moment. "You want me to come with you two?" The prospect of the idea was a new one to her; the two boys normally expected her to be a mother hen and see to their preparations so that they did not find themselves hurt on hungry outside the castle walls. "You don't mind? I thought this was some sort of male bonding tradition for you two."

"Well, today we're leaving without Lady Catherine's consent, so we can't very well leave you behind for her to barrage with questions of our whereabouts, can we?" Trowa asked smoothly. Both he and Hilde knew that an angry Cathy was not someone you wanted to mess with.

"It's your day off today," Heero added, small smile playing on his lips. "Don't you want to spend it in our fine company?"

"Pfft." Hilde rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "I dare say I'll be the envy of every girl in the country!" The line, though meant to be sarcastic, was probably true. Very few women in the castle were granted the privilege basking in the presence of both handsome men. "I'll pack us a picnic basket, you two ready the horses."

Trowa and Heero obeyed Hilde's orders, and as soon as she returned from the kitchen with a large woven basket of goodies they were on their way, and as predicted, Catherine was quick to notice the absence of her brother and hastily assembled the royal guard.

"Milady Catherine, your wishes?" The captain asked, saluting the princess before bending down in a deep bow. The red haired princess hesitated before giving them their orders. She did feel for Trowa, that was why she did allow her brother to leave the castle on occasion, but disappearing without a word was not something she was willing to tolerate. Then again, it's quite possible that my strictness was the cause if his sudden urge to rebel, wasn't it? The princess thought to herself.

Catherine knew that the laws she had allowed to be placed upon the Bloom Family were especially hard on Trowa, but he was a prince of Satulurain and thus had to follow his role in society maturely and appropriately. I cannot allow an escapade like this to occur a second time; showing mercy would give him the impression that he can get away with this sort of behavior.

"Captain." The princess said at last, turning her light blue eyes to the man before her. "Prince Trowa has disappeared from the castle. Find him and escort him, and any palace hands in his company, back to the castle as soon as possible. Then bring him to me."

The captain saluted the princess a second time, a sign that he understood her orders, before leading his men out of the thrown room. Upon his leave, Catherine sighed and collapsed into her chair. It's hard… to be a responsible sister without coming across as the 'bad guy' all the time… Trowa, don't hate me.

"Problems, Lady Catherine?"

The princess resisted the urge to send an immediate glare in the man's direction before she took to straightening her posture as calmly as possible. "Lord Dekim, an unexpected surprise." I'd die before calling it pleasant… "Problems, perhaps, but concerns of mine are no quarry of yours, so it would do you good to take no notice." At that, she turned her blue eyes upon the aged and withered man before her.

Dekim swallowed hard, but continued to stand tall while appearing as though Catherine's cold gaze did not bother him. The princess's eyes were a true wonder; so beautiful, but cold; sharing a glance with her was like looking into the eyes of an ice goddess; a frozen beauty only made warm by the fiery color of her curly hair.

"As you wish, Milady, but might I make a minor suggestion?" Catherine didn't bother with replying; she knew all to well that Dekim would say whatever the hell he wanted, no matter her answer. "Keep you brother under lock and key or pass right to the thrown onto someone who won't run away from their birthright."

"Your advice has been noted, Lord Dekim." Catherine replied, nodding her head a fraction of an inch without breaking the man's eye contact. "However, I find it is my duty to point out that succession to the thrown is no birthright of Mariemaia's; being second in line, she can't even be regarded as 'lucky', really. Trowa will, without a doubt, become king, and when he does, all quarters of the kingdom belong to him. Satulurain is not destined to be diced up and split between nobility like scraps of meat, Lord Dekim. Mariemaia will receive nothing, and thus, she is little more then a parentless child cursed to live in the world of ignorance which money and pampering have provided her with."

"My lovely lady," Dekim started, laughing lightly as he calmly approached the exit of the thrown room, "You speak so highly of your brother, and for good reason; he's handsome, intelligent, amazingly articulate, even for one blessed to live in our society, but believe me when I say that his actions today are a sign that he isn't as complying to become ruler of this kingdom as you so boldly claim. Till another time, young princess." With that, and an overly smug smirk, Dekim exited the thrown room.

Catherine waited until the man was completely out of sight before she allowed her confident exterior to crumple and her posture to once again slacken. The truth was, Dekim was right. Trowa didn't want to become king, and his runaway scheme had now made that apparent in the eyes of many.

In order to protect her brother and the kingdom, Catherine knew that she would now have to take extra precautions to ensure that all went as planned. If only Trowa would grow up and accept his fate. She thought, rising to her feet. If he is incapable of making decisions that are in the best interest of the country, not himself, then…

Mind made up, Catherine decided that she would need to have a word with the supreme council about a rewrite in Satulurain's laws…

Quatre

Abra Winner had never been a very fortunate man. Granted, he was immensely wealthy, surrounded by friends and family, and highly respected by the people because of his show of kindness in the form of donations to various charities, but luck in the area of family simply wasn't one of his strong points. His misfortune lay in his inability to find a lasting wife.

The first bride he had taken, Brianna, bore him three lovely daughters, whom they dubbed Carese, Monett and Francis, Carese being the eldest. By the time Carese was fourteen Brianna had taken ill and died of fever.

A year later, after Carese fell in love and was wed to a nobleman in a distant town, Abra was ready to remarry. This time his love was a foreign noble woman with lush black hair and rich brown eyes named Chai. She gave birth to five daughters, Claudia, Angelina, Angelica, Roane and Genevieve. Do to religious disagreements, Chai left her husband shortly after giving birth to Abra's youngest daughter, Roane.

By the time Abra married a third time, his daughters, Monett, Francis, the twins, Angelica and Angelina, and Claudia had found husbands and strayed from their home to live merrily with their lovers so that they too could start families of their own. This time the woman was a brown haired beauty named Anna. Wanting a large family now that most of Abra's previous children had left home, Anna bore her husband five more daughters; Hannah, Jubilee, Emeraldas, Dianna and Iria. She died shortly afterwards from exhaustion and malnutrition.

Once again time passed, and eventually all of Abra's daughters had left home to make families of their own. All but one remained; the youngest, Iria. She stayed behind to see to it that her father was well taken care of.

Eventually, with the loving company of his daughter, Abra found it in him to give marriage another go. This time, his heart was captured by the beautiful blonde foreign court flower, Catherine. Widow from a previous marriage, Catherine invited her four lovely daughters, Veronica, Alma, Eliza and Liana, to live with her and her new husband.

These girls were far older then the majority of Abra's children, and after a year of living with their now much beloved father, they too left home to marry their respective suitors.

Abra and Catherine continued to live their lives happily, accompanied only by Iria, who preferred to stay in the company of her parents then marry, for a very long time. However, they eventually decided that they wanted a child of their own.

Months later, Catherine had given birth to Abra's first son. Unfortunately, complications during the birth of their child made it impossible for Catherine to survive labor. Heartbroken that his most loved wife was to leave him after giving birth to their child, Abra allowed Catherine to name the boy with her last breath.

Smiling as brightly as she could in her exhausted state, the beautiful woman spoke the name 'Quatre' after herself, for Catherine's name in her native tongue was 'Quatrine'. This way, even though she was gone in body, she could continue to love and watch over her husband and children through Quatre.

Baby Quatre quickly became Abra's pride and joy. With Iria, the three lived in happiness for a good six years.

Though Abra was an important man in many countries, Quatre had never once felt alone when he left on a business trip. He and his sisters had always been very close to one another. He wrote them every day and was very much loved by Iria, who made it her duty to watch and play with her youngest sibling whenever she could. When Abra did return home, he was always greeted by loving hugs and kisses from the pair. It was Abra's love for family that caused him to hire so many people to manage his estate when he was at home. Not wanting to care for his business when he was with his children, the elder Winner normally allowed others to tend to affairs when he was at home.

When Quatre reached the age of five, he was the mirror image of a heavenly cherub. His flaxen hair was a shade of blonde that put blocks of pure gold to shame and his eyes, though deep blue in color, had a noticeable glow to them; they were like pools of ocean water brightened solely by the light of the sun. His skin was pale, despite the many hours he spent playing outside with his sister Iria, but his cheeks were always rosy, glowing with happiness.

However, Abra never thought his children would ever be able to experience true happiness, for his company disallowed him to stay home for long periods of time, so the children lacked the loving care of a parent. He brought his concerns to the attention of his children multiple times, but so pure of the heart were they that his youngest children felt their dear father's concern for them instantly and convinced him that his care was all they needed to be happy. Iria and Quatre greatly impressed Abra with their selfless confessions, and he then made it his duty as a father to bring his children gifts from each of his travels. Though both children wanted little more then their fathers safe return, they were always thoroughly pleased and surprised by his gifts.

On one occasion, he brought Iria back a lovely white silk gown from the oriental designers of Dracobrand, and Quatre a finely crafted violin from Avisaithne. These two, among all the gifts, were by far the children's favorites. Quatre proved to be a master at playing the instrument, even at a very young age. While he practiced, Iria would put on her favorite dress and dance along to all the upbeat, joyous melodies her brother was able to create. This was one of their favorite pastimes.

Then one day their father brought them back a most peculiar, but truly wonderful gift. While away on a business trip in Sanq, he had fallen in love with a beautiful, brown haired woman named Orinda Une. Both children treated their mother with respect, but Quatre never once considered her to be his true mother; to him, that position belonged solely to the woman that gave up her life to give birth to him, Catherine, and no one else. She was his guardian angel and strength in life; the person that made him the happy, kind child he was today.

But a mother was not the only thing the children received when their father married Orinda, or rather, Lady Une (she preferred to be known by her surname), they were also granted two new siblings, Middie, a withdrawn, blonde haired girl with dark, golden brown eyes, and Serenity, a cocky, brown haired girl with equally dark eyes. Both new siblings were very dignified, probably due to their mother's influence, and preferred their own company to spending time with their new siblings, but overall, they made a fairly happy family.

For Lady Une, though strict, never once laid a hand on any of her children; she was a very sweet woman who spoke out against violence; a real pacifist of Sanq. There was only one thing Quatre did dislike about the woman, and that was that she found Abra's family too large for her liking. She insisted that they do away with Iria. Lady Une was a tradition woman and thought that, at the age of eighteen, her stepdaughter should have been married, and since she was still single and living off of her parents it was her job to find the girl a suitable husband.

Abra did not want to force his child into a commitment she wasn't ready for, but his ever loving Iria was ready to marry if it would benefit the family's happiness. Iria was the only one of his daughters to have an arranged marriage, but the elder Winner had approved of the fine gentleman himself and thus could not complain with his wife's choice. After the marriage, Abra was immediately called away from his home to do business in Kumania. Kissing his daughters, sonand wife goodbye, Abra left home.

The very next day, Iria was to leave what had been her home for the past eighteen years, and her most heartfelt goodbye was to her little brother Quatre. The teary fair-haired boy clung to his favorite sibling, begging her to take him with him, for life without her, to Quatre, was more then he could bear.

"Do not worry, little prince," she had said, smiling sweetly while brushing tears from Quatre's angelic face, "Mother Catherine will watch over you in my stead, you know this!" she placed a hand to his heart, and placed a kiss atop his head. "She's right here, and so am I and all your other sisters as well! Whenever you feel lonely, don't cry, wishing I was beside you, know that she and everyone else are here, walking in stride with you, experiencing the world through you, Quatre."

The golden haired boy nodded his head, and loosened his hold around his sister's waist, knowing that she was right, but that he'd still feel a terrible emptiness inside of him when she was gone. "Promise to write me." He said through sharp intakes of breath as he tried to get his emotions under control. "Once a month, too. Even if I don't reply, I want to know at least you're all right."

Iria initial reaction was a look of surprise, and for a moment Quatre thought his request was going to be denied, but soon Iria was running a hand through his hair, laughing joyously. It made her happy that Quatre's immediate concern was her wellbeing in a new home and not filling the void he would feel after her departure. "If that is your wish, little brother, it shall be done. I'll write you once a month at least, no matter what!"

Those words instantly made Quatre feel a great deal better, as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I'll miss you terribly." He said, giving her once last hug."

Iria chuckled optimistically before returning the embrace, "I'll miss you terribly as well, Quatre. Be good for Mother Une, she's your caretaker until father returns, after all. But don't worry…" she gave Quatre a look that made the boy feel a little uneasy inside, but soon she had raked a hand through his hair, messing it up awfully, "you can be a little monster when father gets back."

The two shared a laugh, knowing that this sibling interaction was destined to be their last for a long, long time to come. Quatre hated it when his hair was jostled, and Iria new it. Though adventurous and clumsy almost to a fault, the blonde took pride in dressing to fit his station in life, and messy hair was one of his pet peeves.

After giving Iria her goodbye kiss on the cheek, Quatre's most beloved sister left, leaving her young brother with Lady Une, Middy and Serenity. She was not worried, for she was sure her father would return, and all would be as it was before her departure, but she was wrong. When Quatre returned to his room that night, he found that Catherine had left her favorite dress behind. Resting on a pillow near it was a letter that simply read:

For you to remember me by.

Love always,

Your sister, Iria

The day Abra arrived in Kumania was the day of King Trevet and Queen Latanya's assassination. Their deaths had been so swift that no one had been present to handle the angry and emotional mob of people who wanted revenge for the deaths of their monarchs. In frenzy, the people blamed the assassination on Abra Winner, for who else in the kingdom possessed a shipping company that stocked firepower? He was hung without a trial, and by the time the real authorities had arrived and discovered the real perpetratorof the crime, Quatre had already lost his father. The state tried to compensate the Winner Family for their loss, but no amount of money or halfhearted apologies could replace what the young boy had lost.

Alone, without any real family for the first time in his life, Quatre relied solely on the memory of his birthmother for support, but he soon found that the world was a cruel place and that a memory alonewas not enough to sustain his once happy life. Lady Une, perhaps driven mad by the horrifying loss of her husband, shunned Quatre and treated him lower then dirt, perhapsbecause the boy symbolized all the women his father had once been with before he left Une alone in the world. In any case, shebelieved that Abra owed her a big debt; a debt Quatre would now have to pay in his stead. Middie and Serenity, who never had been very fond of their new brother, didn't even bat an eyelash when their mother banished him to the basement of their estate to live the darkened life of a servant.

Not once did the boy cry in protest of his cruel treatment, for as long as he knew that he carried the love of his dear mother and sisters with him, he knew that he could endure whatever his family thought at him. Thus, Quatre worked very hard for his family, he even graced them with angelic smiles despite their obvious contempt towards him. He did his chores to the best of his abilities, but his clumsiness often led him to error… error that did not go unpunished.

At first, when a shred of Lady Une's decency still remained, the beatings were quick and fairly painless, but as he grew older and the last of his keeper's decency had left her, the whip was used. Still, Quatre did everything he was ordered to completewith a smile on his face, and this gave him the respect of the servants that had stayed behind to care for the Winner Family even after their fortune had dwindled due to the closure of Abra's business.

However, as the Winner Family continued to lose money, Lady Une sold more and more of what her husband had left behind, even though Abra's Will had left most everything in Quatre's name. Regardless, the boy did not care, so long as he could keep his violin, Iria's dress, and a special necklace of silver wildflowers that had once belonged to his mother, he was content, for his memory of his father washis overwelming debt to the Lady Une.

Unfortunately, no amount of optimism could spare Quatre the hurt of losing some of his closest friends over the years. Rashid, Abdul, and many other house servants were sold in order to pay off taxes, for the Lady Une had no business of her own and, as a traditional noble, refused to enter the workforce for her children since it was 'improper' for a female.

If not for the Maxwell Church, which felt pity for the family that had once shown so much kindness to so many people, Quatre may not have been the optimistic teenager he was today. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, friends of his father, had shown Quatre great amounts of kindness over the years that kept his heart from tainting and becoming bitter. Father Maxwell's adopted sons, Duo and Solo, worked the Winner farms twice week for no pay, and on days when the Lady Une and her sister's were acting particularly harsh, they would allow Quatre to stay overnight at the church.

Eventually Solo left Anila for work in Satulurain's capital city, Kumania, and Quatre and Duo were left alone to become great friends as the two matured into young men. They worked together and, both being very free spirited with a soft spot for the natural beauty of the environment, became explorers of the land. Unfortunately, as Quatre got older, his journey's outside became less and less frequent. In Lady Une's eyes, he appeared more and more like his mother every day, a woman whom she hated since, by this time, she had come to understand that Abra loved no one as much as Catherine. It was with this in mind that she kept stripping Quatre of his rights until he was virtually worthless.

Why did the lad not just run away? It wasn't because of lack of opportunity; it was because he had too much to leave behind. Though Duo had encouraged him to part with the town numerous times, Quatre was sure that he would just be caught, brought back to Lady Une, and punished. In addition, there was a chance that he'd never hear word from his sisters again.

After all, Iria had kept her promise to write as often as possible.

Dearest Quatre,

Today was wonderful! The sky was a clear, calm blue, and there was not a cloud around to hide the magnificent radiance of the sun. In all truth, today's weather reminded me greatly of you; warm, pleasant and majestic, in a righteous sense.

Quatre smiled ironically, shaking his head in mild sadness. "If only you could see me now, Iria." He said to no one in particular, for he was currently being held in the empty confinements of his basement room. "You'd find that I'm not at all as exalted as I once was." Looking back now, Quatre couldn't remember if he ever had been illustrious at all; he'd been working in servitude for so long, his birthright of nobility seemed to be little more then a fantasy; a realistic dream that meant little to him now. Presently, he was firmly under the impression that he'd be worthless until the day he died, to all but perhaps Iria, Duo, and the other ones delusional enough to see value in his life.

I took my daughter, Sierra (you remember her, don't you?) out to the fields today. The way she ran about, arms flailing around, eyes to the sky and blonde hair playing in the warm winds, well, she reminded me very much of you.

You were very young back then, always the adventurer, and I do hope that you've continued your explorations to this very day. Imagination should not be limited to the youth, after all.

Those days seemed so long ago now, but memory of their existence made Quatre feel warm inside; it was a happiness that only Iria's charming letters or Duo's infamous jokes could bring around in him.

Lunar is a good man, and the way he smiles while watching our daughter happily playing outside… it supplies me with warmth that once only you and father were able to resonate within me, Quatre. I love him, without a doubt, and I love you too, dear brother, which is why I must confess that your lack of response to my letters worries me.

Are you troubled? Have you simply no stories to tell your dear sister? Sometimes I imagine that you're severely hurt somewhere and I become so worried my husband sometimes fears I've become ill. Then I think to myself, 'if that were the case, why would he not get word to me of his injuries?' and this calms me. Have I been wrong all these years, Quatre?

The blonde once again shook his head, feeling for his kind hearted sister who, after so many years without hearing from him, still had it in her to worry about his wellbeing.

If so, please return a letter. It wouldn't kill you, would it?

The boy laughed, feeling the obvious humor within the line. "Yes, it just might." He spoke under his breath, tightening his hold on the letter, for he knew it would end shortly.

Yours truly, now and forever,

Iria

Quatre folded the letter and quickly looked behind him. After confirming that the door upstairs was still closed, he stowed Iria's letter in a nick near the wall where he knew it'd be safe from discovery. Afterwards the blonde averted his attention to the floor above him.

Panic instantly washed over him as he heard movement from upstairs. Dusting off his shirt before raking a hand through his hair, Quatre headed for the stairs, knowing that someone would be coming to fetch him momentarily. From the volume of Lady Une's voice, he could tell that she was in a fairly foul mood this morning. If he wished to escape her wrath today he'd have to look as presentable as possible.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, the old, worn down door that served as an entrance to what had been his living space for the past few years opened, revealing the Quatre a sight that caused his stomach to turn over in knots.

Quatre's breath hitched at the back of his throat and his eyes widened noticeably before he cautiously took a step backwards. "Good morning, Septum." Quatre greeted calmly despite his obvious discomfort around the man.

Septum merely smirked before closing the distance between them. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty, time for work." The blonde went to step around the one blocking his path but was stopped when Septum tightly grasped his arm. "But work without play is never very fun. Want to play with me first?" The dark haired man asked, brushing a coarse thumb across Quatre's bottom lip and pale cheek with his free hand. Fortunately, the return of Quatre's senses was quick and more then enough encouragement for him to break away from his obstacle.

"Lady Une will be very displeased if her breakfast is late." The Blonde spoke harshly through clenched teeth. This wasn't the first time Septum had made such an assault, but Quatre'd be damned if he'd allow it to put him on his stepmother's bad side. Septum chuckled cynically before departing, knowing that he would have many other attempts at the boy later on in the day.

Despite himself, Quatre couldn't help but to feel relieved at the man's departure. Though he had shown bravery to a degree that even Duo would have been proud of, the blonde couldn't help but to feel as though he had just ruined his own day.

Septum was in no way, shape or form liked by Lady Une; their sentiments for each other were quite the opposite. Perhaps it was her hatred for the man that led her to make the decision that she had, for Une, despite her feelings, had seen to it that Septum 'keeper'. After all, if she disliked the two of them it would only make sense in her mind to clump them together so that they would both stay out of her way.

Growing up, Quatre had mostly lived in fear of the other man; what sort of child wouldn't be traumatized by Septum's repeated come-ons? Yes, young Quatre was most fortunate to escape his childhood with his innocence mostly intact, but that didn't necessarily mean it was all 'sunshine and daisies' for him either.

Great were the consequences to the one that denied Septum anything; the blonde haired boy had been beaten repeated for his 'transgressions' whenever they occurred. Though his gruesome scars were still present to this day they had faded significantly over the years and had thus done little to ruin Quatre's considerably beautiful, pale skin.

It used to be that so long as he wore a shirt on his back no one could tell that his skin had been torn by whip on a weekly/monthly basis, but as he grew older, Quatre had become more determined to keep Septum's advances at bay by use of banter and fist. It worked effectively for a while, but Quatre soon learned that Septum had other ways of keeping the blonde under control; public humiliation.

He brought the beatings out into broad daylight where all could see. If Quatre dared to make a scene in public, of if Septum simply had nothing better to do, he would get his cronies to toss the boy to the ground where he was beaten and lashed until a reasonably sized crowd had gathered around them.

Quatre had the sympathy of some townsfolk on his side, but not all. While kind folk like the Maxwell family offered him sanctuary in the forms of medical aid, nourishment and friendship, the rest could do little more then look on, for Quatre was but a slave in their eyes and worth nothing.

Yet somehow, those small things meant more to him then freedom itself. He had good friends that cared about his safety and prayed for his health before turning themselves in for the night, he had a sister that loved him with all her heart and wouldn't abandon him, even though she certainly had a right to, and, as cliché as it may sound, a roof over his head and food on his table… when the Lady Une wasn't angered enough to take even that away from him.

Yes, times were hard, and yes, it would be so much easier to cry away his problems like so many others would have done, were they in the same position, but Quatre, as gentle and defenseless as he may have seemed, took great pride in the strength he did posses; strength of heart.

As he headed for the dining room were Lady Une was most likely awaiting his arrival, Quatre smiled to himself, feeling happier then he had in a long while.

-to be continued-

AN: So ends the prologue.

For the information for all who are interested, the 'satu' part of 'Satulurain' is a Japanese name for both boys and girls that basically means 'fairytale'. Kumania, its capital city, comes from 'Kumani', which means destiny and Anila, the Quatre's hometown, means 'children of the wind'. Considering how many children Abra had, I thought it was suitable. Why? Figure it out on your own, for I am too messed up to explain my logic on that one (though I will say this town's name was also influenced by Duo's whimsical nature. Yes, Duo, he does live there too).

Dracobrand… well, 'draco' obviously means dragon, 'brand' is that classification one uses when distinguishing one weapon from the other. Basically, I was trying to give one the impression that Dracobrand was the land of noble warriors; don't know if that worked though. Avisaithne means 'birds of fire'; I did this because I wanted this country to compliment Dracobrand (you know about the rivalry between phoenixes and dragons, don't you? )

Yes, I know Catherine's hair is really brown, but for this story, I wanted it to sort of match her attitude. She's always come across as a very fiery woman, to me. .

If you liked, please, please, please review! I don't see the point in writing more then a prologue if no one liked it enough to comment. :(

Till, chapter one then.

Arlen Sayos