Warnings: Angst, violence, language, adventure, lemons, AU, fantasy, angst again.
A/N #1: So, this is me, which means that Trowa and Duo are going to be involved. There will be more pairings, but I'd really rather let them develop than paste them all over this.
A/N #2: The POV will switch between characters – likely MOSTLY between Heero, Duo, and Trowa.
A/N #3: I'm not sure if anyone even reads these things, BUT, if anyone out there does: can I offer/request a challenge/trade? This fic was supposed to be a Tangled/Rapunzel thing, but it was immediately derailed – for the good. However, I really love the idea of a 2x3 Rapunzel fic. So… if anyone out there loves me and wants to write one, I will gladly accept any challenge you want to offer me. Seriously, I will write any GW fic you want me to - AU, canon, 1x2, 3x4, 1xR for that matter (although, seriously, please no?). Anyway… all you writers out there, give it a thought?
Lost Dreams
Chapter Four
Trowa could count on one hand the number of surprises in his life that could be categorized as 'good' and still have fingers to spare.
When Gregory engulfed Duo Maxwell in his arms and cradled him like the long lost son he seemed to think he was, Trowa was convinced that this was yet another of the surprises that were NOT good.
Gregory eventually released the half-starved bandit and held him at arm's length and looked to be intently memorizing his features.
It gave Trowa the opportunity to look more closely at the boy as well.
He hadn't seen the family resemblance before – but now that Gregory, Solo, and Duo were together it was blindingly obvious that they were related. Solo and Duo had the same nose and eyebrows, and Duo's hair was that same dark golden chestnut that Gregory's still was under the gray. Duo's frame was thin in comparison to the other men, but Trowa knew that malnutrition and youth accounted for that difference more than anything else.
But Duo's eyes were a striking, vivid violet that was darker than either Gregory or Solo's rich blue eyes. The last time Trowa had seen the crown prince – before earlier that month – he had been only a toddler, barely two years old, and Trowa remembered little about the child aside from short, chubby legs and a round face.
He frowned and tried to remember Elana, the long deceased queen, and the mother to both princes.
"You have your mother's eyes," Gregory said, as if answering Trowa's question. The king's voice was raw with emotion, and his eyes glistened with tears.
Trowa looked away from the emotional reunion when Solo joined his father in hugging the boy again.
Heero was still kneeling, but he was looking at the three men with an almost stricken expression. His face had gone remarkably pale and his eyes were wide.
Trowa wondered what the soldier was thinking, and why he looked so alarmed.
"I sent you to find a rebel bandit and instead you restore my brother to my family," Solo spoke up. He ruffled Duo's hair, and Trowa was certain he was the only one who saw the boy flinch away from the touch. "I can never thank you enough."
"It was no more than my duty," Heero said when Solo looked at him.
The prince clapped him on the back and tugged at his shoulder until he stood to his full height.
"Your father can rest easy in the afterlife now," Solo assured him.
Heero nodded, but his expression was anything but relieved. He eyed Duo warily.
"At last this kingdom has cause to celebrate," Gregory announced, finally releasing Duo and allowing the boy the chance to breathe and stand on his own. "We will have a week of revelry!"
"And a tournament," Solo suggested, a sly twinkle in his eyes that was exactly the look Duo had given Trowa before he escaped into the woods the first night of their acquaintance. "Now that my brother is returned, it's time the warriors in this land woke up!"
It was the most animated and happy that Trowa could recall seeing the prince, and he couldn't blame him. Solo wasn't one to sit idly by, and yet Duo's absence for the past fifteen years had forced him to do just that. Now, he finally had the chance to claim his birthright and lead the Theran armies against Mysia.
Gregory looked at Duo, his gaze searching.
"You must be exhausted from your journey," he concluded when Duo remained silent. Gregory looked over the boy at Trowa and Heero. "Please, all of you should rest. Tonight we shall feast as we haven't in years!" He promised with a smirk.
Trowa thought it was incredibly strange that Duo had remained silent throughout the proceedings. Even with a gag on the boy hadn't ceased to rant and shout at Trowa and Heero.
A page stepped forward.
"Er, your Majesty, the prince's quarters are…"
"A little dusty, I imagine," Solo filled in for the boy.
"Yes, my prince. I mean, no, they are in excellent condition. But we weren't expecting his…return. At least, not so soon. Or –"
"I'm sure that Duo is hungry. At least, he looks it," Solo interrupted the poor boy. "I'll escort him to the kitchens while YOU see to it that his quarters are prepared.
"Thank you, my prince." The page practically fled from the reception hall.
"Well, hungry?" Solo grinned at his younger brother and clapped him on the back.
"I could eat, yeah," Duo said. "Thank you," he added quickly.
They two walked from the room, and Trowa turned his head to watch them. They were an incredible contrast. Solo walked with a bounce in his step and his long-legged gait was filled with energy, while Duo shuffled along behind him, shoulders hunched, his pace suggesting he was on his way to the gallows.
"I can never thank you enough," Gregory interrupted Trowa's observation.
He turned back to the king.
"Tell me – no, no, please, you two look ready to fall over. Go, rest, bathe. But join me in Winter Garden before supper. I want you to tell me everything about my son."
Trowa frowned. "There isn't much to tell. We barely know him." And Trowa was confident that what little he and Heero did know would do nothing but make the king feel anger and guilt.
"All the same, everything about his life is worth knowing," Gregory assured them.
He patted both Trowa and Heero on the back before moving past them and exiting the reception hall.
"I'm sorry," Ralph broke the silence that fell over them, "but are you telling me that that foul mouthed little bastard is the future king of Thera?"
Trowa gave his lieutenant an amused look. Ralph looked completely disgusted.
"Therans are idiots. We'd never let this happen in Kos." He shook his head. "Permission to find lodging for the men?"
"Tell Alex and Trant to give them quarters in the Guard's barracks," Heero spoke up for the first time.
"Thank you." Ralph shook his head one more time and then signaled for the other Sentinels to follow him from the room.
"Come on, you stink," Trowa told Heero. He started to walk out as well, and a moment later Heero started to follow him.
They were silent on the walk back to Heero's quarters, but that wasn't unusual.
Trowa thought that no one alive understood him as well as Heero did, and he imagined that it was the same for Heero. Neither of them were particularly chatty, and they went long stretches without having to talk to each other at all. They were connected by a bond stronger than witty conversation, and sometimes they could share more with just a look than many could with an entire hour of talk.
When they arrived back at the Captain's quarters Trowa was relieved to see that their gear had been brought in and a fire lit in the hearth.
He immediately started to run a bath in the water closet, and sighed in pleasure as steam rose from the piping hot water. He started to strip from his travel clothes, relieved to be able to shed them after nearly a week of living in them.
It wasn't until he had one foot in the enormous copper bathtub that he realized that Heero was still fully dressed, standing in front of the fire and staring into it as though looking for answers.
Trowa sighed and braved the cold floor to cross back to his lover.
"You know, if I was you I'd also be contemplating suicide. After all, you've managed to restore your family's honor and you've given Solo the ability to attack the Mysians and try to save the Theran kingdom from ruin."
Heero looked up at him with a scowl.
"I know all of that."
"So what's troubling you?" Trowa could decipher Heero better than anyone else could, but he couldn't read his mind, and he was at a complete loss for why Heero looked so depressed. "Is it because he's a foul mouthed little bastard?" Trowa quoted Ralph. "It is pretty depressing to consider the fact that he's going to rule this kingdom one day."
"I threatened to kill him!" Heero practically shouted. "I gagged him and I kidnapped him and I threatened to kill him!"
Trowa laughed at the look of pure horror on Heero's face. He quickly covered it with a cough.
"I think, all things considered –"
"I assaulted my future king. I gave him a black eye – and I would have done more if you hadn't pulled me off him."
"Thank the Gods for me, then," Trowa muttered. He sighed when Heero continued to look ready to kill himself. "Heero, in the grand scheme of things, that was nothing. And he deserved it. He's got a shitty attitude and he has no respect for…" Trowa stopped talking as he started to think about just why Duo had just as depressed as Heero now did.
Duo had known, all of his life, that he was the Theran prince. Trowa had seen the recognition in his eyes when Gregory spoke. Duo had known, and he had never come forward. He had instead chosen to live the life of a bandit, an outlaw and criminal by both Theran and Mysian counts. Duo had lived with rebels, had buried their bodies with as much tenderness as though THEY were his family. The boy had been taken before the Mysian Inquisition and he had killed the Inquisitor. He spoke of the Theran's with only marginally less hatred than the Mysians.
Duo didn't want to be the crown prince of Thera.
Trowa sighed and made a mental note to ask Heero to post extra guards by the stables and the entrances to the palace. He was willing to bet his favorite bow that the boy would try to escape, if not tonight, then surely before sunrise the next day.
He finally persuaded Heero that had hadn't done worse damage to his family's reputation by nearly punching out the crown prince, and they had a leisurely soak in the tub followed by some vigorous scrubbing to get completely clean.
It was an hour before the evening meal was to be served when Trowa and Heero made their way to the Winter Garden to meet the King.
Heero was back in his Royal Guard uniform – not the ornate dress uniform of the Captain of the Guards, but the more sedate and work ready quilted blue breeches and doublet, paired with his knee high black, suede boots.
Trowa had felt obligated to dress in something more appropriate than his usual Sentinel garb, and had rounded up a page to fetch his own court clothing from the quarters that he rarely visited. Trowa all but lived with Heero when he visited the soldier – at least he had since the Theran had first been promoted to Lieutenant. Not even Trowa was willing to share a bunk with the man when he had been in the common barracks.
His own quarters in the palace were no doubt actually covered in a fine layer of dust. Trowa visited Thera often enough, but he only ever spent long periods of time in Antioch during the winter months.
Fashion had never been one of his interests, and Trowa's wardrobe was simple, if well tailored, and he wore a green velvet doublet and matching breeches and hose for the evening. It felt strange not to be in the warm long trousers and rough jacket of a Sentinel, but it was also a relief to be in clean clothes of any kind.
Both Gregory and Solo were waiting for them, and the prince had a troubled look on his face when Trowa and Heero approached.
"What's wrong with him?" Solo asked before they had even bowed.
Trowa looked at Heero, but the soldier merely arched an eyebrow, indicating that Trowa should do the talking. He sighed.
"He's been gone for fifteen years," he pointed out, "I'm sure this is all a bit of a…shock to him."
Gregory frowned.
"But why was he gone for fifteen years? Why did he never return to us?"
Trowa had to give the man credit for realizing that Duo had known exactly who he was.
"I'm not sure he was able," Heero spoke up. He ignored Trowa's eye roll and continued. "He knew who he was – obviously he recognized you, my King. But he has lived nearly his entire life outside this kingdom, among rebels and free workers struggling to survive under Mysian terror. I think by the time he could have returned to us he felt that he had a purpose there."
It wasn't an argument Trowa had considered, but it seemed logical. Duo truly had believed in his cause of fighting the Mysians.
Gregory sighed.
"Fine," Solo said, "but what the hell is wrong with him? He doesn't speak! At all! Do you have any idea how unnatural that is?"
Trowa smirked. Solo was infamous for not being able to stand long silences, and the prince had thrown both Trowa and Heero out of his presence more than once for not talking enough.
"He talks," Heero muttered. "Just give him a chance."
Trowa's lips twitched, but Heero's glare made him refrain from commenting further.
Gregory sighed. "What has he been doing for the last fifteen years? Where has he been?"
"It seems that he's spent most of his life in the Western Wood. He was an acolyte."
Solo's eyes narrowed.
"He was a what? I thought those were just rumors!"
Trowa shook his head. "Apparently not."
"What temple?" Gregory asked.
"The God of Death."
"But he never took orders," Gregory mused. "At least we are fortunate in that."
"Fortunate!" Solo shouted. "He was an acolyte serving those shriveled old men for the gods only know how long. You know what this means, don't you? He's probably a virgin!"
Trowa was amused by Solo's outrage.
"A condition that can easily be rectified," he pointed out.
Solo glared. "This is a serious matter."
"Not one of life or death," Trowa argued.
"You aren't religious – neither of you – and you never had to study those damned treatises on the gods like I did," Solo muttered, " the followers of the God of Death don't believe in indulging in the flesh. Their acolytes are taught to never commit sins of the flesh, or they will go straight to hell and be punished for eternity by the God of Death."
"He didn't take orders," Heero reminded Solo.
The blonde prince shook his head. "But how long was he an acolyte? How much did they warp his brain? What if he – what if he believed them? The future king of Thera cannot remain celibate – he has to have heirs."
"He's been here for less than a day," Trowa pointed out. "I think we're borrowing trouble here. It's true that he didn't try to jump either Heero or myself as we slept, but that isn't any indication that he despises sex – or that he's a virgin."
Solo still looked unsettled, but Gregory rose a hand to silence his son.
"What else?"
"The Mysians have been after him for at least a month, they want to apprehend him for killing the Inquisitor. So, it stands to reason that he had to face the Inquisition at some point – especially if he was an acolyte." Trowa wasn't trying too hard to picture the details surrounding Duo and the Inquisition, he was confident it would not be a pleasant story, if the rest of the boy's existence was anything to go on.
"How did you find him?" Solo asked.
Trowa and Heero exchanged uneasy looks. Trowa wasn't particuraly keen to tell the King that his son had been a highwayman, but he was even less eager to share the story of finding Duo in the middle of burying slaughtered free workers. It felt wrong, somehow, and Trowa was disturbed by his own desire to protect that side of Duo.
"He found us, actually," Heero spoke into the awkward silence. "He and Trowa had met previously, so he decided to tail us when he spotted us traveling through the Western Wood. He confronted us at the rebel camp."
Gregory nodded and stroked his long beard thoughtfully.
"This will not be easy for him, I think. It's clear he's an intelligent boy – but he has much to learn. When the Mysians learn that he has returned to us, there will be hell to pay."
"At least we have the winter months to prepare for battle in the spring," Solo pointed out. "That should be plenty of time to reacquaint Duo with Thera and his duties."
Trowa wasn't so sure, but he knew that arguing with the two Therans would only create discord. At the very least, Gregory and Solo deserved the chance to celebrate the return of the long lost prince.
"He's a cunning fighter," Trowa offered, feeling the need to say something positive.
Solo snorted. "We need him to be a cunning politician, but that's something." He smirked. "Perhaps he'll compete in the tournament?" He looked to his father. "You and Uncle used to compete against each other in tournaments."
Gregory laughed. "And I used to embarrass him every time. Careful, son, or your younger brother may do just the same."
Trowa woke two hours before dawn, and the chill of the early morning air almost convinced him to stay in the warm bed, wrapped around Heero.
They hadn't gone to be until late – Solo had insisted they go out drinking to celebrate Duo's homecoming, even if his younger brother declined the offer to go with them – and the winter winds were fierce enough that the first snows had started to fall that evening.
He finally convinced himself to rise and dressed in the darkness. He pulled on his oilskin cloak over his clothes and tucked his sword and scabbard under it. Life had taught him never to be too complacent, and he didn't want to wander around unarmed.
The battlements were bitterly cold, and Trowa stayed in the stony heights only long enough to see the sun peak over the northern mountains.
Long enough to catch sight of a distant figure sneaking out of the main palace and sprinting across the courtyard to the Royal stables.
Trowa cursed when he spotted the boy –for who else could it be at this hour – and made record time sprinting through the palace corridors.
He reached the stables more than a little winded, but the boy was still there, working to saddle his horse.
"Going somewhere?" Trowa asked once he had regained his breath. He leaned against the opposite stall and crossed his arms, adopting an unconcerned air.
Duo looked up at him, momentarily startled before he masked it with anger.
"There a law against that here?" The boy demanded.
"Against the crown prince leaving the palace? No."
"Then yeah, I'm going somewhere."
Trowa waited until the boy had finished securing the saddle and climbed over the broad back of his horse. He took a moment to admire the animal, and he wondered just how Duo had come across her. She was clearly of good stock, and her black coat was flecked with white patches that lent her a resemblance to many Sentinel mounts.
"Might be a bit hard," Trowa called after him, "considering that the guards won't let you out of the courtyard."
Duo's shoulders slumped and he turned to glare at Trowa.
"You just said there was no –"
"There isn't a law," Trowa interrupted, "but the Captain of the Royal Guard gave all of his men very explicit orders that they weren't to let you out of the courtyard unless he was with you."
The boy swore.
"You meddling bastards, just let me go."
"Why? You're here now – restored to the bosom of your family, destined for a life of luxury. Why would you want to go?"
"Because this," Duo waved an arm to indicate the stables and the palace – maybe all of Thera, "is nothing but the sweat and blood of free workers. I'm not going to sit here in some damned ivory tower while innocent people are being butchered. You stupid Therans –"
"I'm no Theran," Trowa corrected him quickly.
Duo sneered. "Whatever. Those stupid Therans think that me being here is that important?"
"It is that important," Trowa corrected him. "When the Mysians had you kidnapped fifteen years ago it crippled this kingdom. Ever since, the Mysians have been growing more powerful. They are the ones who've been butchering innocents. But now you have a chance to change all of that. With you here, Solo can lead the Theran armies against the Mysians and beat them back to their own territory."
"Yeah, and I'm sure all the free workers who get conscripted into the Theran army are going to have a lovely time fighting a war for a man who doesn't give a shit about them. The Mysians aren't the only ones who butcher people – and if you really think the Therans are the good guys you're more of an idiot than I thought you were."
And the boy was clearly more jaded than Trowa had realized.
"Not to mention all the innocent people who get caught between the two armies. And what happens if you do manage to beat back the Mysians? Think they'll see the error of their ways and start to free their slaves and respect the free workers rights to work their own land?"
"And what are you going to do that makes you so pure and heroic?" Trowa snapped.
"Pure? Heroic? I've never claimed to be either. But at least if I'm the one out there doing the work, no one else has to die for me." The look on Duo's face made it clear that he hadn't meant to say the last part.
Trowa could understand that sentiment. It was, after all, what had driven him to join the Sentinels in the first place seventeen years ago.
"And just how long do you think you can survive out there on your own? How much good can you do?"
"I killed the Inquisitor, didn't I? The palace wasn't that hard to get out of, I'm sure I could find my way back in."
"You against three hundred of the Mysian guard? I think you've lost your grip on reality. You could barely keep up with me, and I'm one man. Even if I'm guided by the gods," he added with a sneer. "If you think so little of Thera – of your father and your brother – then why not stay here and change things? You're concerned about the free workers? So protect them. If you attack the Mysians – even if you succeed in your crazy scheme – what do you think will happen? Think they'll just give up?" Trowa shook his head. "Or is it more likely that they'll revert to their usual methods and try to destroy the free workers will to rebel? For every Mysian that you, the rebel Duo Maxwell, kills – the Mysians will kill fifty free workers. Or have you already forgotten what that pile of corpses smelled like? Then again, maybe they didn't mean anything to you. Your god likes dead bodies, doesn't he? So maybe you want to be the reason little kids die? Maybe -"
The boy was off the horse in a flash and had tackled Trowa to the ground. His fists were clenched in the fabric of Trowa's cloak and his slight weight pinned Trowa to the ground between his legs, but he made no move to attack him.
Trowa watched as Duo drew in deep, shuddering breaths.
"As a prince of Thera you can ensure that a nineteen year old boy doesn't have to bury the remains of a massacre on his own again," Trowa continued, his voice gentle. "You can make it so that Thera and Mysia aren't the same. You can build a future for the free workers."
Duo closed his eyes and shook his head, but a moment later he eased away from Trowa, releasing him and moving to sit on the ground beside him. He drew his knees up to his chest, and he looked impossibly young and fragile.
But Trowa knew him well enough by now to know that Duo Maxwell was anything but fragile, and however young he was, he had still lived through things that most men wouldn't experience in five lifetimes, let alone fifteen years.
"Did they send you to convince me to stay?" Duo eventually asked.
"I sent myself."
"Who the hell are you anyway?" Duo asked. "You aren't just a Sentinel – they all bowed before the King, but you didn't even nod."
"Stick around long enough and you might figure it out," Trowa told him. He rose to his feet and brushed off his clothing.
He grabbed the horse's reigns and guided her back to the empty stall and started to remove her tack and saddle.
"You saved my life, before," Duo said from his position on the floor.
"I did." Trowa agreed. He wasn't about to burden the boy with a life debt, but he wasn't above letting the boy convince himself that he owned it to Trowa to stay.
"Damn it." Duo stood up and started out of the stables.
"Where are you going?" Trowa called after him. He had thought he was on the verge of staying – not changing his plan to escape on foot.
"I've got an appointment with the royal tailor," the boy growled. "If I'm staying I'll need some damn clothes to wear – since Solo nearly had a panic attack when he saw what I was wearing yesterday."
Trowa smirked at that. Solo, unlike the company he kept, was a devotee of fashion and clothing. Trowa had never met a man so deadly with a blade and yet so obsessed with what color velvet best set off his hair.
"He's a good man," Trowa called after him.
Duo's shoulders stiffened as though Trowa had physically assaulted him.
"Pure and heroic and all of that shit, huh?"
Before Trowa could say anything, Duo stalked off.
He might have convinced the boy to stay, but Trowa was willing to bet that the winter would thaw into spring before the Duo warmed to his fate.
Up next: Celebrations
-0-
Some facts about this fantasy world:
There isn't actually any magic. It's really just kind of a medieval-ish place, with a small pantheon of gods. The gods will be explained more as we go, but they don't really interfere with life – it's a lot like our own contemporary religions.
Thera and Mysia are ancient Greek cities/islands/states and I'm definitely stealing a bit from Greek mythology as I craft this.
As for technology: again, very medieval, except that I gave them running water – because, let's be honest – running water is AWESOME and truly necessary to even think about the Gundam boys being super hot and having lots of sex.