Disclaimers: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing nor it's characters. It's a loan.

Warnings: Shounen-ai, OOCs, AU (what else do I write?), gloomy Duo (sorry, can't help it for now)

Circle of Destiny

Part 6

Quatre followed his Master apprehensively behind. No, he wasn't at all frightened of what would happen to him behind the closed doors of the bed chamber; he was more than used to that. His previous owners had been less than kind and more than creative when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. He had seen the worse of what they had to offer but yet, he was nervous about his new master. From carefully lowered lashes, the slight blond studied Trowa. He was attractive, no doubt about it and Quatre couldn't dismiss the attraction. He was shy about this attraction either, unlike some of the people he had met. He was brought up to understand that sexuality was irrelevant in all cases.

There was a mysterious air that clouded Trowa wherever he walked. That thought stopped him for a while. He was thinking of his Master as Trowa? That has never happened before. He never thought of the cruel, smelly people who used him mercilessly by name. That would be placing an emotion to that person. That wasn't done. He was taught earlier on by the other pleasure slaves to never get emotionally involved. It made the parting harder when they got tired of him. While aesthetically pleasing, Quatre had never been in possession by one master for more than half a year each time. His brother had been the same, but Duo had been oft times violent. So, the lithe blond would wait for the day when this master got sick of him. Instead of feeling a sense of elation for feeling a few fleeting moments of freedom, that thought made him ill.

Trowa had shown him and his brother nothing but kindness since the first time they met, which was only a few days ago. But it took a much shorter time for most of his masters to show him the inside of their bed chambers. So far the tall nobleman had been unfailingly polite and even extremely courteous in matters relating to him.

And now, he had just been told that he was to be Trowa's body servant.

While he felt slightly betrayed, Quatre was still under the impression that this man wouldn't hurt him. He was led into a rather large chamber which was sparsely furnished. The only thing that looked like a luxury in that whole room was the bed. It was large and plush with a multitude of cushions on it with a soft satin coverlet covering the entire bed. It reminded Quatre of Duo's room back home some how. While his brother had no use for decorations deemed necessarily to fit their station, he had insisted on the most decadent bed Quatre had ever seen. They had spent countless mornings rolling around under the sheets, burrowing through it like a puppy and shredding the pillows to feathers at each opportunity. That sweet memory brought a bittersweet smile to Quatre's lips. It was one of a few precious memories of freedom he allowed himself.

"What made you so happy?" Trowa asked, smiling lopsidedly. To Quatre's surprise, his master looked pleased to find him in good spirits.

Quatre immediately ducked his head. "Just fond memories, Master."

The blond noted a vein in Trowa's jaw tightened at the term. He wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

Trowa walked over to Quatre, towering over the slave. "I think it is time for some rules," he said seriously.

Quatre couldn't stop the dread that passed through him at that announcement. While his instinct told him that he had nothing to fear from his new master, ages old training conditioned him otherwise. He fell to his knees, cowering. "My apologies Master for not asking what you wished to be addressed. I will accept any punishment." Thinking to appease his master's anger, he crawled to Trowa's, rubbing his entire length against the taller man as he stood. He could feel his Master's erection; he quite evidently was attracted to his new slave. Experienced hands teased Trowa's body and Quatre could hear the increased raggedness of his breath.

"Qua… tre…" Trowa grated out, catching hold of the blond's talented hands. "Stop… please." The last came out as a plea. It taught the nobleman not to mistake Quatre's angelic features as innocence. He was anything but and it was their kingdom that trained Quatre to what he was today, an experienced pleasure slave.

The slave cringed again. "Did I displease you, Master? I will learn, I promise, Master. Please don't punish me."

Trowa felt his heart clench. It was such a painfully small voice. So woeful. There was a dejected slump of Quatre's shoulders, almost as if he expected to be punished at any moment. And that was exactly what the blond said. Trowa felt his jaw tightened and wondered what kinds of 'punishment' was carried out on this fragile body. Sighing deeply, he caught Quatre' s shoulders gently, one hand forcing the blond's chin up.

"That's not really what I meant when I said rules, little one." He smiled softly as clear, confused aquamarine orbs stared imploringly into his own. "In the privacy of our chambers, you shall call me Trowa." He noted the surprise on Quatre's face at that announcement. "I said I needed a body servant, not a pleasure slave."

Quatre looked positively poleaxed. "But… but…"

Trowa smiled, closing the blond's slightly ajar mouth. "I know that body servant is a more polite name for pleasure slave but I was serious when I said I wanted a body servant."

Frowning, the smaller slave looked around. "You don't look like you need someone cleaning after you." The room was pristine.

"Well, I have my moments," Trowa coughed, embarrassed, a soft red hue staining his cheeks. Of course, he couldn't very well tell the delicate looking blond about his nocturnal activities that sometimes left him coming home stained in blood. While those times were minimal, like he said, he did have his 'moments'. He also couldn't tell Quatre that he thought he was too fragile to do any of the hard work around the castle. Somehow he knew that would hurt his slave's feelings, and seeing those glorious eyes clouded with hurt just wasn't on today's schedule. Actually, it wouldn't be on any day's schedule. He didn't want anything to happen to Quatre. Why, he didn't know yet.

"I'm sure," Quatre laughed, trailing one finger over the massive fireplace to fine it spotless.

Trowa lounged on his bed, studying his new servant. "How did someone as intelligent as you get trapped into being a slave?"

Quatre stiffened, colour draining out of his already pale face. He took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. His former owner didn't really care about him, only of his talents.

"You and your brother. If I am not mistaken, the two of you must have been at least from a quite well to do family," Trowa continued, seemingly unaware of the reaction he stirred within the blond. He was surreptitiously gauging Quatre's reaction. The slave was like an open book. Everything he felt was written across he delicately moulded features. And right now, he was frightened.

"Ma…" At Trowa's slightly admonishing look, Quatre amended. "Trowa, please don't force me to lie to you. I…" He trailed off, a slightly dazed look overtaking him. A horrified gasp burst out as he rushed toward the window.

"What? What is wrong?" Sensing something amiss, Trowa crossed the room to where Quatre stood, his vivid green eyes scanning the area outside for some kind of threat. The countryside that his window overlooked appeared calm.

Quatre had his eyes clenched tightly shut and he appeared to be listening for something. "The stables," he muttered before taking off.

"Wait!" Trowa grabbed a slim wrist. "What is wrong?"

"Let me go, Trowa. Now," Quatre swung to face his master, no trace of his previous placidness.

The tall assassin was shocked to find an almost feral look in once limpid blue-green eyes. Something told him that even this slave would be potentially dangerous. "No," he decided to stand his ground. "Tell me what is wrong." After all, how could one slight man like Quatre hurt him?

"Let. Me. Go. Now," Quatre growled, throwing his master effortlessly over his shoulder and onto the bed. He disappeared out of the door in a flash.

Trowa laid there, stunned. Slight, fragile, delicate my ass, he thought sourly. The feeling that something was odd about the two brothers was once more reinforced. He took off after Quatre in a hurry.

XXxxXX

Heero felt a fist connect his jaw and he went flying backwards, landing on his behind. For a moment he sat on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

"You bastard!" A cold, angry voice yelled at him.

The King looked up from his undignified position, holding his aching jaw to look for the first time at the new slave Trowa acquired. A shaft of pain shot through his chest at the sight of the average height slave with a ridiculously long rope of hair and odd coloured eyes.

"Your majesty," Dermail blurted, coming over to help him to his feet.

Brushing off the Stable Master's assisting hands, Heero stalked toward the slave. He felt a moment of betrayal when he saw Wufei holding onto him, restraining the seemingly irate man. He was clad in one of the uniforms of the castle servants, the dark collar stark against the fairness of his slim neck, his chest heaving in exertion.

"No, Duo, stop it!" Wufei said, shocked.

"Let me go. It's entirely his fault," Duo, Heero assumed was his name, continued to shout and rant, straining against Wufei's arms. Then a long litany of words flowed from his lips that wasn't all too flattering, judging by the horrible sneer on Duo's expression and the shocked one on Wufei's.

"Duo, what's wrong with you. He's the King, he's the one that saved you and your brother!"

Heero felt a burst of rage at being treated so by a common slave. He stalked right up to Duo and raised his hand, fully prepared to teach this disrespectful slave a lesson. Instead of the fear he normally invoke in all his subjects with his baleful glare, Duo stared at the King with defiant violet eyes. His hand swung down.

"Heero, please!" Wufei pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

The slave still stared at him with all the hatred in the world shining in his eyes, waiting for the cruel punch to descend.

Moments of silence passed. It dragged and lengthened. No one spoke a word and Duo continued to stare defiantly up at Heero, but the young king made no move, his hand suspended in mid air. Heero felt host of emotions running through him. Something about this slave was familiar but it was like a dream, the images hovered at the edge of his consciousness and he couldn't really grasp at it. Slowly, he let his hand drop, no longer certain he had any right to be angry at the slave.

Wait, of course he had every right to be angry. A slave actually raised his hand to him. A slave hit him. No, not slave… never a slave. How could he have ever thought this person was a slave? Those eyes, those wide violet orbs filled with revulsion, filled with utter disgust for him, fill with betrayal. Where had he seen those? A low ache that started at the back of his head started to spread to epic proportions to the front, causing him to see white. With a low moan, he fell to his knees, holding onto the aching head. He felt a rush of people next to him, holding onto him, asking after his welfare. It was noisy and confusing as hell, but one thing remained constant, the slight man in front of him, looking down at him with as much loathing that he could muster. As the pain overwhelmed him, his sight blurred, and only the slave's eyes stood out in sharp contrast.

His dream! Those eyes were from his dream.

"Nefros…" He gasped before the world faded before him.

XXxxXX

Heero awoke in his own room with a slight ache in his head and confused as hell. What had happened?

"You are awake, Your Majesty," Wufei's wife, the Healer, Sally stood at his side. She bent over, feeling his forehead.

Annoyed, he slapped Sally's questing hand away. He made to get out of bed, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed before he was stopped by the Healer.

"No, Your Majesty. You should rest. You collapsed in the stables," she puttered over her collection of herbs and medicines. She retrieved a vial from her tray and dropped part of the contents into a cup which she then brought back to Heero.

"I didn't collapse," Heero corrected in irritation. "I fainted." He raked his hair back from his head in one frustrated swipe. He had fainted, in the stables, in front of all his servants, like a female. How was he ever going to live this down?

Sally stared silently back at him. There was a hint of worry in her expression, but was trying to cover it up with professional detachment.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Heero snapped, ignoring Sally's silent order to stay in bed. He had to find out about this slave. There was something about him. He, Heero knew instinctively, was the key to unlocking the mystery of the dream he had since he was a child. Those eyes were a dead giveaway. No one he knew had eyes like that, and in came a slave with the exact eyes and the same look of betrayal from his dream. Unfortunately for him, the hurt was replaced by revulsion, which didn't sit right with Heero. There was a deeply ingrained instinct to try to stop the slave from looking at him like that. Anything to have those beautiful eyes look at him with love once more, with longing and desire.

Heero stumbled on his way out of his room. What? While the pain from earlier was tempered to a soft dull ache, it intensified a hint as he tried to search his memories of someone like that. No, he knew no one and loved no one like that. And he preferred maids.

"Heero, are you alright?" Sally asked, not bothering to hide her concern now.

There was a name attached to that face. He knew it, it was on the tip of his tongue. He strained for it, trying to reach for that illusive…

"Nefros…" He whispered. It didn't come out quite how it sounded. It was as if the name wasn't built for a human tongue. But it was clear enough to Sally.

Sally gasped, her hand tightening painfully around Heero's forearm. With amazing strength, she pulled Heero to face her. "What did you say?"

"That's his name, isn't it?" Heero asked triumphantly.

The colour drained from Sally's face. She shook her head vehemently. "How… it's… impossible, you can't know… How…"

"Sally," Heero steered her to a chair and sat her down. What was wrong with her? Why did she react so strongly to that name?

"His name… his name is Duo," Sally stressed weakly.

"No…" Heero started to protest. No matter what he was called now, Heero knew the slave was known as Nefros.

"His. Name. Is. Duo," Sally snarled at Heero.

Heero's blue eyes narrowed suspiciously at the sudden vehemence of his healer. In all the years he had known her, she had always been placid and accepting. Perhaps not around Wufei, but around the little boy who was heir to the throne, she had coddled him like the mother he never had. To have her snap at him like that over a slave made Heero doubly angry at this Duo and not to mention extremely jealous as well. Just who was he that everyone felt the need to protect?

"Who is he?" Heero demanded, holding Sally firmly by the shoulders.

Pinned by the intense stare of her king, the healer bit her lower lip painfully. Heero could see the indecision in her eyes but he knew she wouldn't tell him her secret.

A commotion from without the door drew both their attention. Heero released Sally abruptly as they both turned toward the door. Suddenly, the wood panelling was being pounded with undue force.

"Please, Your Majesty, help him, please!" An urgent voice called form beyond the door.

"Quatre, calm down." Trowa, Heero could recognise that voice anywhere.

"Let go of me, Trowa."

Heero started. His cousin was allowing slaves to call him by his given name? Not just any slave, the braided one's brother, the one who was called Nefros. Heero strode to the door and yanked it open, overturning a blond into his room. He was left with no choice but to catch the slight slave before he met with the hard stone floor.

"Please, Your Majesty," Quatre clutched at Heero in panic. "Please don't have my brother flogged, please. He didn't mean to hurt you. He has been… sick." Huge imploring aquamarine orbs pierced the cold armour of Heero's heart right to his soul.

Who could deny this little angel anything?

The blond slave was suddenly pulled from his arms.

"Quatre, stop it." Trowa had a firm grip of the wriggling blond who was still begging Heero not to flog his brother.

Flog?

"Flog?" Both Heero and Sally yelled in unison, aghast.

"Whose orders?" Heero stalked down the hall grimly.

The others followed quickly, their shoes clicking down the hallway.

"Dermail," Trowa reported. "He is my slave, but I have given the Stable Master full authority to do as he pleases with those under him." He anchored Quatre to his side but the blond was determined to run ahead. "I can't undermine his authority for something as insignificant as a slave."

Heero stumbled to a halt at the sound of twin slaps. He whirled around in surprise and saw both Sally and Quatre in front of his cousin. Trowa was staring in shock at the two smaller beings in front of him and both his cheeks were suspiciously red.

"Duo is not insignificant!" Quatre and Sally yelled and took off running.

Heero stared, dumbstruck for a spell before running after the two. "I won't let him suffer anymore for my mistakes," he muttered, not really knowing why he said that.

XXxxXX

Duo hung from ropes tied to his wrist. He felt faintly reminiscent of the position he found him in after such a long separation. He suppressed the urge to laugh but it was more from irony than any form of mirth. He steeled himself from the whipping that had become the normal routine for him. He just didn't expect it to start this fast.

Dermail was gloating. The Stable Master was parading around in front of him, holding the whip and staring him down as if he didn't know where to start. The administration of the castle was extremely odd in a sense where even someone as powerful as Trowa couldn't meddle into this affair, since Duo had been ordered to work at the stables. It was laughable that this form of democracy was ingrained into his head by Duo in the first place. He never knew it would come back to bite him in the ass after so long.

Wufei had been restrained by some stable hands but even they looked uncomfortable at what Dermail was doing. It wasn't that Duo felt he didn't deserve the punishment. He did hit his master, well technically not his master but it was the relish in which the man was trying to mete it out that bothered them.

The Stable Master was not a cruel man, but he sure looked it now. The others didn't understand the sudden change in character. How were they to know that Dermail felt threatened by this slight young man with his mysterious ability with animals? He even had the King's foul tempered stallion eating right out of his hand. Dermail was useful to the King as the only person other that the King to be able to handle Wing, but with this pest around, where would he be anymore?

Duo attacking the King was the best way to get him out of the way. Since no one could enter his domain when he was reprimanding his subordinate, except the King, Dermail could do as he pleased. He highly doubted the King would bother about this slave.

"Dermail, you are going to regret this," Wufei strained against the hold of the two burly stable hands.

Dermail shot Wufei a glance before turning back to Duo. "There is nothing you can do. He is my responsibility to punish as I see fit."

"I will get you for this!" Wufei promised, inwardly shuddering at the way Dermail was caressing the long whip. "Stop him!" He implored the two next to him. They hung their head in shame, knowing that if they tried to help the new boy, they would be punished as well. While most of the time Dermail was fair, he was a hard taskmaster and unreasonable when riled.

Dermail shrugged. "Well, too bad he is my stable boy. I can do whatever I want with him." He took satisfaction in the defeated look on the slave's elfin face.

"And if he is my body servant?" A deep but slightly breathless voice cut through the afternoon air.

Dermail spun around, paling considerably. "Your Majesty!"

tbc