Title: The Devil Has Blue Eyes

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Gundam Wing

Genre: Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

Pairing(s): Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

Reviews: Yes, please.

Author's Note: (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so without the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

Teaser: He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

Chapter Two

"Who was that?" Quatre asked Chang as he was directed toward the back of the castle.

The man did not answer, but only glanced at him over his shoulder. It was clear he disagreed with his blue-eyed master about letting the blond stay. Quatre smiled then. Chang - Wufei - did not seem like such an ogre after all. In fact Quatre had actually felt sorry for him after the young lord had addressed him so bluntly.

He took Quatre through a huge dining hall, empty now. Quatre's footsteps slowed as he gazed about with wonder. He'd never been in such a fine castle, never known people actually lived in this manner. The paneling here seemed the same as that in the entry hall, all of it a beautiful golden oak. The ceiling of the dining room was also paneled in elaborately carved oak, and oaken beams arched high above them. They passed a long dining table that looked to seat at least fifty. At the end were huge arched windows that reached almost to the ceiling two stories above.

"Come along, young sir," Wufei snapped. "Don't dawdle."

"I've never been in such a place," Quatre explained, still staring around the room.

"No doubt," he muttered, just above a whisper.

After a few twists and turns they came to a part of the castle that was plain and more serviceable-looking. Quatre's stomach grumbled loudly as the delicious aroma of cooking drifted down the hallways to them. Wufei threw him a look of disapproval before turning into one of the rooms. The kitchen was bright and sunny, and there were several people working busily at the different pots and the wooden service tables.

All eyes turned to them as they came into the room. One of the women smiled broadly and waved a large spoon at Wufei. "What have we here, Mister Chang?" She asked. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat; as she stepped around from behind a large cauldron, her body was slim but far from frail. Her eyes flashed interestedly at Quatre as she swept one of two thick sandy blonde braids from her shoulder.

"This… young man has come to see Mister Khushrenada," Wufei explained, still glaring at Quatre with disapproval. "First he busts into the tea party and puts the ladies into a fine snit. Then his hollering disturbs the young master and sends him down the stairs to find out what's the matter." He snorted with disgust and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee.

The woman, who Quatre assumed by now to be the principal cook, smiled even more broadly, looking first at Wufei then at Quatre. "Pay no mind to him, child," she said. "He's not as cantankerous as he seems."

He grunted and gazed at Quatre over the rim of his cup. "Yuy said to feed him, if he's hungry," he growled.

Quatre was beginning to feel like a stray animal that had wandered by mistake into someone's large, warm kitchen. "My name is Quatre," he said to the blond-braided woman.

"Good to meet you, Quatre," she said, moving back and forth between her cooking pots with ease. "You look familiar. You from around these parts?"

"No, ma'am," he replied.

"Well, sit yourself down at the table there by the window and I'll dish you up something tasty. My name is Sally, by the way. And I've been cookin' here for nearly thirty years."

"You hardly look old enough to have been here that long," Quatre said, going to the table where she pointed.

She turned to Wufei with a lift of her brows and a smug little grin. "How could anyone be angry with this child?" She asked pointedly, "Why, anyone could see he's smart as a tack."

The man rolled his eyes. But here in the kitchen Quatre could see that he was not as stiff and disapproving as he had been in front of his employers. The blond smiled at him, but Wufei looked away as though embarrassed.

Sally set a plate of steaming food before Quatre, and his stomach rumbled again.

"Poor thing's starving," she murmured, patting him on the shoulder. Casually, she swept his bangs back and away from his eyes. Quatre found the gesture very sweet and welcoming, and suddenly his eyes stung with tears he tried to blink away.

He concentrated on the food before him, which seemed to be some sort of broccoli stew with a hot, flaky crust. Quatre thought it was the best meal he'd had in months. Sally watched him as she worked. She smiled at him from time to time and nodded with approval when he'd finished eating.

Quatre had no idea what to do next. So he sat quietly, looking out the window at the small enclosed courtyard just beside the kitchen. There were neat bricked-in squares which contained various pants and herbs. Beyond that was a round stone structure with a pointed roof. He asked Sally about it.

"A dovecote," she answered, distractedly. "But we don't use it anymore. Would you like to go out and look around?"

"No. I should stay here until… the man Mister Chang mentioned… Mister Yuy? He said he would see to it personally that I get to speak with Mister Khushrenada."

Her dark eyes gazed at him sympathetically, and she exchanged an odd look with one of her helpers. "Mister Khushrenada is, uh, sometimes not well," she said. "Are you sure that Heero… Mister Yuy… said you could talk to him today?"

"Yes," Quatre nodded, anxious. "Why? Do you think he wasn't telling the truth?"

"Oh no," she said with a quick laugh. "Heero Yuy is much too straightforward for that. If he had something to say, unpleasant or not, he wouldn't bother lying about it. No, he'd tell you straight to your face."

Quatre could well believe that. He tried to remember exactly what the man looked like, but all he could recall were coffee-tanned skin and fierce blue eyes.

Wufei was no longer in the kitchen, and Quatre wondered hopefully whether he had gone to fetch Mister Khushrenada. Suddenly the blond felt very alone and doubtful about having come to the castle. After all, he knew nothing about the man he had been told was his father. And from the odd looks he saw when Mister Khushrenada's name was mentioned, he was beginning to wonder what was wrong with the man.

Through the kitchen windows he could see the lengthening shadows of huge old oaks beyond the courtyard. It was growing late, and Quatre had no idea what he would do if night fell and he had no place to go. For the first time he realized how hasty he'd been. And he felt a bit of homesickness for the caravan that had been his home and family for so many years.

"Are you tired, child?" Sally asked.

"No," he said quickly, even as he tried to stifle a yawn with his hand.

"There's small cot in the cupboard behind the kitchen here. If you'd like, you may lie down until they send for you."

"Do you think they will?" He asked. "Send for me? I mean, I have nowhere to go if…"

"Don't you worry, lad. If young Heero says he will, then you can depend on it. He won't send you out into the night with nowhere to go." Her certainty took away some of Quatre's anxiety. She nodded toward the open doorway. "Go on, take that nap. I'll call you when the time comes."

Quatre couldn't resist doing as she suggested. After the warm and filling meal, he was so sleepy he could hardly hold his eyes open. The cot in the corner of the pantry looked very inviting, and he not sooner stretched out than he was fast asleep.

~o~

"Shh," he heard. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, wasn't even certain at first where he was. Then he remembered.

"He's been sent for." He recognized Mister Chang's voice outside the door.

"Well, I don't see what difference a few more minutes will make," Sally replied. "The poor boy was exhausted. You tell the young master that he'll have to wait."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Chang hissed. "It's Master Khushrenada. I doubt he'll stay sober for long. I can't understand how Heero got him clear-headed enough to speak to the lad. Or why, for that matter. Should have sent him packing."

"Shut up, Wufei. There's something unusual about the boy, and if I know the young master, he's clever enough to see it too. Something in his eyes, like a secret."

Wufei snorted, but there was a hint of fondness buried deep beneath the sound. "You and your flighty female romanticizing."

"As if you could resist any part that makes the whole, darling."

When she came into the room Quatre pretended to be sleeping, not wanting her to know he'd heard every word of their conversation. Only when she placed a hand to his shoulder did he turn over and open his eyes.

"Wake up, child," she said. "Young Mister Yuy has arranged for you to see the master. Just like he said," she added proudly.

The pantry was completely dark except for the light from the kitchen. The lamps on the tables had been lit, and for a moment he felt a bit of panic, wondering how far into the night he'd slept.

"Oh," he muttered, tugging at the waistband of his trousers and checking that his shirt was more neatly tucked in. He ran trembling hands over his unruly blond hair, which had pulled stray from its leather tie, and looked up to see Sally watching him.

The woman gently turned him around and swatted his hands away, taking it upon herself to tug the tie loose and gather his hair together in a somewhat tamer copy of his gypsy's tail. Quatre awkwardly accepted her help, nervously tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I didn't mean to sleep so long… I left my mare Sandi tied up outside all afternoon…"

"She's been taken care of," Sally softly assured, tying his hair behind the nape of his neck and knotting the leather tie before stepping back, satisfied. She must have read the anxiety in Quatre's face when he turned again, for her mouth tugged in a smile. "Don't fret, lad. And don't worry, you look fine."

Quatre knew she was only being kind, but it made him feel better that she cared enough to lie.

Wufei stood behind her, impatiently waiting for him. As they left the kitchen, Sally was frowning, as if something bothered her.

Wufei took Quatre back through the hallways where he'd first encountered the handsome young man whom Sally had addressed as Heero. He wondered exactly what the man meant to this place.

As they neared yet another large oak-paneled hallway, Quatre saw him, the very man he'd been thinking about, rise from a chair and stand waiting for them. He had the same amused expression on his face as he was the blond approach.

He was not as tall as Quatre had first thought, although the man still towered above him. He was not a large man, but slender, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He had changed his clothes and his appearance made Quatre's heart falter. Tonight the man wore black evening attire, with a dazzling white shirt that was buttoned beneath his strong chin and topped with a white tie. "Good evening," he said to Quatre, his voice deep and soft as he bowed slightly toward the blond.

Just looking at him, just being in his elegant presence made Quatre feel more grubby than usual, and he hardly knew how to reply. "E-evening," he managed.

Wufei stepped forward and opened a door, then stood back waiting for them.

"Whom shall I say is calling, young sir?" He asked stiffly. He, at least, made it perfectly clear that he thought the entire matter a farce.

Quatre was tired and nervous. And standing there among strangers, beneath the amused gaze of those intense blue eyes, made him feel especially defensive. He straightened his back and stared directly into Heero Yuy's smugly handsome face as he replied.

"His son," he said with what he hoped was a haughty lift of his brows. "Tell him it's his son Quatre."

He watched as those blue eyes darkened and a frown wrinkled the man's brow for only one short moment. Then, with a nod of his head, he dismissed his servant, who had gasped aloud at Quatre's words. "That will be all, Wufei. I'll handle this."

For a moment Quatre thought the man would throw him out, for his face had become closed - angry, even. And the blue eyes that the blond had found so warm and inviting earlier were now as cold and silvered as a wintry mountain stream.

But the man surprised him.

"This way," he said, turning and going into the small, dimly lit room.

Quatre was certain his heart was beating loudly enough to be heard all the way back down in the kitchen as he faced the man near the fireplace. He stood beside a table and the lamplight lit his face as he poured something into a small crystal goblet. His thinning brown hair was combed immaculately back, with but a few stray strands falling over his brow; he was tall but stooped slightly, as though far older than his fair face would lead one to believe. When he first looked up toward Quatre, his eyes were sad and lacking much expression at all. Then they changed, growing wide and full of surprise.

With a choked sound he moved forward; the goblet fell from his hand and shattered with a loud crash on the gleaming wood floor, splattering the red wine across a nearby rug to land on Quatre's worn boots like droplets of blood.

The man stopped, his hands reaching toward Quatre and gesturing ineffectively. And the sound of his voice made a chill run along the blond's neck and down his arms to the very tips of his fingers.

"Leia!" He cried. "Oh, my sweet Leia. You've come home at last!"