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 do 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 Sixteen
Zechs led a big, silver-grey stallion to the carriage steps in front of the house. After he was in the saddle, he reached down to help Quatre climb on behind him. All the while Quatre was aware of the rustle of curtains at the windows.
At that moment he didn't care what anyone inside had to say. He was too eager for the big horse to carry them away, too intrigued about seeing the vineyards. And only in his heart did he admit that he was running from Heero's disapproving eyes.
"You might want to hold on," Zechs warned, half-smile in place, just before he nudged the horse into a full gallop. Quatre let out a laugh as he held tight, enjoying the exhilaration and the risk as they practically flew through the streets of town and onto the road toward Rosemont Castle.
Quatre supposed Zechs was the only one who did not try to make him into something he was not. In fact, he suspected the older blond relished Quatre's independent nature.
They raced down the long tree-lined driveway toward the castle. Chickens and guineas scattered in a frenzy of feathers and cackles as they passed. Quatre laughed so hard he nearly fell from the horse.
Zechs was laughing too as they exited the sandy road into the vineyard - not his low, poised chuckle, but a full and hearty laugh that Quatre, with his arms wrapped tightly around Zech's middle, could feel rumbling from the very center of the older blond's chest. With a smattering of French phrases, Zechs slowed the horse and reached down to pat the animal's neck. He let Quatre slide down the horse's flank to the ground, before following after him.
"I never thought a simple ride could turn into such an adventure," Zechs smiled, once again poised and proper, though the laughter still lingered in his eyes. "And you… so spontaneous, so unafraid. I have never seen another like you."
"Not even my mother?" Quatre asked.
"Leia?" Zechs chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, indeed no. For all her darkly passionate looks, she was always a quiet and conventional young woman. You, on the other hand, are uninhibited and exuberant. The gypsy in you, I suppose, but I find that makes you all the more enticing."
"Thank you, sir," Quatre smiled, a hint of warmth flushing his throat beneath the collar of his shirt. "And you are the only one I've met, besides Rasid, who allows me to be myself. It's a refreshing change of pace."
For a moment the older blond became serious, looking down into Quatre's face thoughtfully. His silver eyes were warm and pensive.
"Ah, cherub… if only I were twenty years younger."
Quatre smiled at him, though he suspected the older man's lament was genuine. And he remembered Relena asking him when they'd first met - "Haven't you ever had a lady on your arm? A beau?" Quatre had not lied when he'd told her there had never been an opportunity. But he knew very well that it was no uncommon thing for two men to be attracted to one another; in fact it seemed to be supported and encouraged as naturally as when a man and woman came together.
He didn't want to give Zechs the wrong impression that he could ever return the older man's sentiment. But somehow the Frenchman's attempt at intimacy did not unnerve or disturb him - not as Heero's had. With Zechs Merquise, the younger blond felt comfortable and at ease.
Just the mere thought of how Quatre felt when Heero looked down so seriously at him made a chill run up his spine. The darker man made him feel anything but comfortable.
Zechs and he began to walk through the rows of vines. The silvered leaves were unfolding as spring brought the brown, withered vines to life. It was a sight to behold.
"You like the vines," Zechs murmured quietly. "I can see it in your eyes. More proof to me that you are a Khushrenada. Your family's estates in France have long been a major producer of the finest Cabernets in the world. Producing grapes and making wines is in their blood. That is the reason I agreed to come here. I would only have done it for Treize Khushrenada."
"Cabernet," Quatre echoed, testing the word on his tongue. He sighed, "Why does everything have to sound so foreign?"
Zechs chuckled under his breath, though there was nothing but companionable amusement in his eyes. "Tonight we shall have a bottle of the best Khushrenada Cabernet. I find myself anxious to learn what your unspoiled taste will tell us about it."
A warm breeze rustled the leaves as it moved through the flat area of the vineyard. Quatre reached out to touch one of the plants. "You couldn't have planted these," he challenged. "They look as if they've been here for years."
"You have a good eye," the older blond approved. "They were brought here by Swiss immigrants who settled the land, and from whom you father bought the estate." He stepped to one of the vines and pulled one of the twigs out for Quatre to see. "This graft is newer… the work Heero was doing when I came. And a fine job of it he has done. The lad was born to the vineyard, it seems, a natural talent."
"Graft?"
"Yes, the new stock - this part, here - is inserted into the old vine, you see. This is the Cynthiana, a new and hardy American stock. It is doing quite well."
"Will you teach me, Zechs?" Quatre wondered, quietly. "I want to learn everything about the vineyard and about making the wine."
"Of course," he said, lips quirking in that half-smile that seemed so much a part of him.
They walked for a while, Zechs pointing out other varieties and other experiments. Quatre's interest grew; he found himself impatient for the next step in the vineyard's growth to see what would happen.
They had come to the end of the long rows and stood gazing across the stream to where he'd first seen the wolf, and later the Demon. Almost as though Zechs had read Quatre's mind, he gently broke the peaceful quiet. "When we spoke the other day, you mentioned a man by the name of Duo."
"Yes," Quatre said. "Have you found out who he is?"
"I believe so. I asked around, and there seems to be only one person in the community with that name. But it seems strange to me that this is the man of whom your Rasid spoke."
"Why? Who is he? Is he still alive? Where does he live?"
"One question at a time," he chuckled. "When I tell you, you might not be so eager."
Quatre stared, puzzled. Why wouldn't he be eager to meet the man Rasid had spoken of?
Zechs raised his arm and pointed toward the top of the ridge across the stream. "He lives there, I am told," he said slowly. "The local people call him by another name… the Demon."
His words shocked Quatre, left his mind a whir. This could not be the Duo they were searching for. How would Rasid have known such a creature? And why would he tell Quatre to ask the Demon about the mystery of his childhood?
"Do you think it's only coincidence? Could there have been someone else… another man by the name of Duo?"
"By the word of those I spoke with, there was no other."
Quatre sighed, having almost expected that answer, and he gazed upon the dark slopes of the mountain. "I'll have to meet him, then. Find out for certain."
With a quirk of his lips, the older blond warned, "I cannot tell you whether that would be a good idea, Quatre Raberba. You know the legend of the Demon, do you not? He is said to have cursed this place, to have cursed your family. He will not take kindly to questions from a Khushrenada."
"I'm not afraid of him. I saw him once - I don't believe he means me harm."
"I will not argue with you," Zechs said. "For your independence is but one facet of the whole that makes you so admirable. I only ask that you proceed slowly and with caution."
"I will."
"You must tell Heero about this. He will know what to do."
Quatre hesitated, a vision of those dark disapproving eyes filling his mind. "I… I'll think about it."