I don't particularly like poker, but then I suppose most people play more for the company than for the game itself. Given the circumstances, neither impressed me.
"I'll take your bet, and raise you by six."
I couldn't remember, were the red tokens ten or a hundred thousand? It didn't really matter, I thought as I placed six more chips on the table, because while I did not overly enjoy poker, I was very, very good at it.
"Aces high, the pot to Master Zechs," said the tall slave dealing the cards. He belonged to Mistress Devine, I believe, and had been chosen at random so that no one could suspect cheating.
Wufei was sitting tensely beside me, his legs tucked under him and his back straight as he glared at the floor. I couldn't help but smile, wondering what the cold marble had done to offend him so, but I knew he was just trying to keep up pretenses. I brushed my hand along his shoulder and watched in amusement as he shuddered just a little too hard to be real.
"You haven't yet told us how you managed to tame Dragon and Shinigami, Zechs," came Vincent's voice from across the table. "Won't you regale us with the tale?"
"Not much of a tale there at all," I said, pulling my hand away from Wufei and turning back to the other masters. "You simply have to discover what the slaves need to be happy with their restraints. From there it's all about skill, discipline, and attention."
"Attention?" wondered Master Darce, a slim, dark-complexioned man.
"Mm. I find that the slaves need to feel that their master is interested in them, otherwise they assume he's not watching them and feel they can do things they shouldn't," I said, using my drink to hide the small smirk I shared with Wufei. It wasn't entirely a lie, in my experience. Every time my slaves had felt I wasn't giving them enough attention, they'd gone and done something… rather silly. Just because the action generally hurt them more than it did me, that didn't make the point any less valid.
"So what would you say is most important when training a slave?"
"Patience and unwavering dedication," I replied evenly. "No matter what they do, you cannot give up on them. If they see that there's the possibility that you'll cave, you won't get anywhere with them."
"I totally agree!" Vincent added. "I had a slave once that I just couldn't manage to get to cooperate, so I sent him back to the auction block. The entire batch he had been with suddenly became rebellious, and I had to scrap the whole lot of them. Cost me a pretty penny, let me tell you. I'd been hoping to at least turn a profit with them, and I ended up in the hole more than I'd paid for them!"
"What are your slaves pricing now?" enquired a blonde haired master opposite me, whose name had something to do with food.
"Four to five for an unskilled, seven to nine for one trained to compete. Of course, the four I'm competing this year are easily worth fifteen, but I haven't decided whether I'll be selling them or not," Vincent replied. I didn't even bother to wonder how many zeros were attached to those figures. I'd probably become ill.
"Do you plan to sell any of your slaves?" Mistress Devine wondered. Devine was a rather overly buxom woman with long blonde hair and, despite the stereotype, rather intelligent eyes.
"I can't fathom it," I replied honestly. "I've only got the five I'm completing as it is."
"Oh dear," she replied, seemingly confused. "How ever do you see to your… needs if they're all training?" At this, I laughed out loud.
"Have no fear, milady. My boys are more than willing to provide me with certain… services. Actually, I find they behave better when they have all their… baser needs satisfied," I replied, again not quite lying. My boys did generally have a meltdown if I withheld sex, although it was generally in the confidence area.
"Still, you can't possibly continue with just competition slaves. At the very least, you'll need slaves to help with the maintenance of your other slaves. Besides, a good slave is better than a servant any day. How about this then, if you win this hand, I'll give you two of my slaves. If you lose, I get to dance with your Dragon tonight," he said, and then continued before I could protest. "Now, I've got a flush. And you?" he asked excitedly. I glanced at my hand and sighed.
Royal flush.
The rest of the game passed quickly, despite my anxiousness about taking on two new, unknown slaves. I won several hands, threw a couple just to be fair, and managed to leave the table with a sizeable sum more than I'd come with.
As I walked quietly back to the room, Wufei trailing silently a step behind me, I couldn't help but muse over the day's events. This party… didn't seem to be going nearly as badly as I had anticipated. Actually, other than the constant slavery and talk of human cattle, I was slightly enjoying myself. Lightening the pockets of several slave owners hadn't hurt my feelings on that point. And the sea was beautiful, if nothing else. I wondered if I'd get a chance to take the boys into the ocean.
When we entered the room, I instantly knew something was wrong. Had there been a rolling fog, I couldn't have been more clued in to the fact that something unnatural was happening. The strangest part was that the entire scene looked completely normal, despite my certainty that something was out of place. Maybe Quatre was rubbing off on me, or perhaps it was a completely misplaced maternal instinct, or maybe it was just intuition in general, but I knew without a doubt that something was entirely off.
I didn't want to alarm the boys, though, so I let them continue dressing in the night's costumes without interrupting. Unlike the almost-togas they'd been wearing earlier, there was to be a ball tonight, so the boys were dressing in loose white shirts with ruffled sleeves and low necks, along with tight, black dress pants. They looked like high-class poets or ballet dancers. I couldn't fault their looks, even if Duo had already managed to tear one of the cuffs of his shirt and was getting a hasty patch job from Quatre, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
It wasn't until we were heading out the door that I realized it was Trowa who was making my internal alarms sound like mad. But, again… it was strange. He didn't look injured or upset… Just the way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes as he walked by tipped me off.
"Could you four go on ahead a bit? I wanted to talk to Trowa about his performance," I excused quickly. The others exchanged glances – they knew something was up as well – and then headed quickly to the party.
Trowa's shoulders slumped as they left, defeated or relived, I couldn't say. As I approached, however, he tensed, so I had to assume it was defeat. God, I was getting so tired of all the drama with my boys. I loved them dearly, but was it too much to ask for them to be stable for a week?
"I want to know what's wrong," I said firmly, knowing the others couldn't enter dinner without us and that we only had a few minutes alone. "I can tell you're upset about something, and I'd like to know what it is."
"It's nothing, Master. I'm just upset about losing to Key, that's all," he replied calmly. I looked him over, hoping it was as simple as that, but I was almost certain it was something deeper. Still, without proof it really seemed like I was just being paranoid.
I almost let him go. I almost said, "Your performance was fine, don't worry so much," and let him head off to join the others. I wanted to believe that this, unlike everything else so far, could simply be solved by a pat on the shoulder.
But when I looked him over for the last time, I noticed a bruise peaking out from the collar of his open shirt, hastily covered in make-up that did not quite match his skin tone. I quickly pushed the collar aside, ignoring Trowa's startled gasp, and found a large, hand-shaped bruise on his shoulder, as if someone had grabbed his shoulder from behind and pressed too hard.
Was he upset because he'd gotten in a fight with another slave? Or had he fought with one of the other boys? But none of the other boys seemed upset, so that couldn't be it. But I'd only left them alone for an hour! How had he managed to get into a fight so quickly? And how would he get marks like that in a fight anyway? What was it that had made him so edgy about it? I mean, it certainly wasn't the first time he'd gotten into a fight with competing slaves. So… what…?
"Trowa, where did you get this bruise?" I asked quickly as Trowa tugged his shirt back to cover the bruise.
"It's nothing," he replied, hunching his shoulders defensively.
"But who…" I started to ask, and such a look of panic came into his eyes that I knew there was no way we could get through this and get to dinner on time. So, with a resigned sigh, I let him go to catch up with the others, following after a moment to calm myself.
But the puzzle wouldn't leave my mind.
All through dinner, I could think of nothing other than to wonder how Trowa had managed to get that bruise, and why he was so terrified of me finding it. There was a piece to the puzzle I was missing, and my mind worried at the hole as though I could fill in the blank if I just thought hard enough. But, somehow, nothing would come to me that could provoke such a reaction from Trowa. And so, I sat through dinner, barely noticing the exquisite cuisine prepared by one of Vincent's slaves, nor the lovely music played by another. And, when the time came to retire to the ballroom for a dance, Wufei had to prod me from my seat; I was so lost in my thoughts and my concern for Trowa.
Duo got as excited about the dance as he did for everything, and so was out on the dance floor almost before the permission was out of my mouth. I had a momentary chill of fear as I thought of him careening around the dance floor and knocking into other dancers, causing massive destruction and high casualties, before I saw Heero take his hand and gently but firmly take the lead. I let the fear subside, as I knew Heero was a very capable dancer, and Duo seemed happy enough to follow Heero's lead.
Quatre turned to me next, looking enviously at Heero and Duo first.
"Can I dance too?" he asked innocently, turning his big blue eyes on me pleadingly. I glanced at Trowa, who still wouldn't meet my eyes, and quickly decided that I didn't want to be separated from him.
"Wufei," I said, taking Quatre's hand and giving it to Wufei, "take Quatre to dance."
"But… what about…?" Quatre wondered, confused and upset.
"Trowa will keep me company," I said, moving into one of the lavish chairs set up along the wall so that those who were not dancing could watch. Slightly in a corner and a bit away from the buffet table that had been set up with all manner of meats, cheeses, and fruits, my location would be out of the way and mostly unnoticeable. I would have been much happier on the dance floor, of course, with Wufei or one of the others in my arms, but my instinct was telling me too strongly to ignore that something was dreadfully wrong with Trowa. So I pulled him with me as I retired to my chair, keeping a watchful eye on the dancing pairs even as I tried to read Trowa's expressionless face and overly normal body language. Sitting as he was on the floor, it was difficult to see more than his shoulder and half his face, and he turned even those from me when he saw me staring too closely. I had to hand it to the boy; he was very good at keeping his secrets.
"I will find out sooner or later," I told him after we had sat in silence through several dances. I saw his shoulders tense, but nothing more. "You know, there's a saying that goes, 'The sooner I know what you did wrong, the sooner I can forgive you.' Think about it," I told him, not quite lying. I was pretty sure someone had said that at some point. Regardless, his glanced at me, his face finally revealing his mood as he frowned, a pained look showing in his eyes.
"If I had done the worst possible thing in the world, would you still forgive me?" he asked, his voice as unfeeling as it had been when I had first met him.
"There are many things you can do to make me very angry," I told him, watching the dancers and trying not to reveal just how anxious that question had made me. "But there is nothing you can do to make me stop caring for you."
He didn't reply for a long time, and when I had finally given up on getting an answer, he laid his head on my thigh and sighed.
"Perhaps you could forgive me, but I don't know how I can ever forgive myself."
Well… that didn't bode well.
I let it go, though, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. It pained me, though, because my curiosity, combined with my well-warranted sense of paranoia, both needled me relentlessly to find out what was wrong. And, through it all, Trowa kept that same unfeeling, uncaring mask in place. It was all I could do not to pick him up and run back to the privacy of our room.
The last dance had finished and several masters had gone on to give… performances with their slaves, when I noticed a large commotion at the other side of the room. I glanced down to where Trowa's head rested against my knee, his eyes unfocused but still seeming pained, and decided not to go find out what was going on. The last thing I needed tonight was more drama, and seated in the corner with my slaves surrounding me, removed from the dance floor and most of the excitement, I hoped to be able to avoid it.
But I hoped in vain.
Not five minutes after the commotion had begun, there was a general surge of the crowd in my direction. I saw Vincent in the lead, his expression one of carefully constructed rage, and his singing slave being towed behind him. Somewhat alarmed, I rose to meet them. Trowa, I noted from the corner of my eye, glanced at them fearfully, then dipped his head, almost hiding behind the arm of my chair.
"What seems to be the matter?" I asked politely as Vincent approached, dragging his slave behind him.
"It seems we have a problem!" he gushed in outrage that was slightly too gleeful for me to fully believe. "One of your slaves has been cavorting with mine."
"E-excuse me?" I asked, unable to fathom what he was telling me.
"It appears," he said, unable to hide a sly smile, "that our songbirds have decided to try a different tune… together."
I glanced at Trowa, who was still on his knees beside my chair, but he would not raise his head to look at me, which was as good as admitting his guilt. I sighed internally, keeping my face a stoic mask of indifference, and knowing that there was no way this night would end well.
"What proof have you that they coupled?" I asked, praying that it was simply the word of his slave against mine. It would be far easier to let Trowa off and deal with this in private if I could claim to doubt the honesty of his slave.
"The two were caught on one of the security cameras, fucking out on the veranda."
Trowa made a choking sound and all eyes turned to him. His face, when he raised it, was carefully neutral, but his eyes were nearly mad with fury.
"Only for the kiss," he mumbled, "Only made a deal for the kiss. My god. Only the kiss. You bastard! You tricked me!" he growled, then launched himself at Key. I managed, just barely, to insert myself between them, taking Trowa firmly by the shoulders and pushing him into my chair. He was a puppet with the strings cut, then, limp and completely devoid of emotion.
"I see you are having some difficulty with your slave," Vincent said, not quite managing to keep the pleased tone from his voice. "I'll show you the recording, then, and you can decide how to proceed from there."
There was a projector somewhere in the room, and when the lights were dimmed, the image appeared on one of the large, white walls as though we were in a drive-in. Speakers were mounted to every column in the ballroom, and so I received not only a life-size reenactment on my slave being raped, but also surround sound audio of his pain.
I expected the recording to make me furious, and in some ways it did. I would gladly have hung Vincent from the ceiling by his balls and watched him scream. His slave I would have beaten into a pulp for daring to touch what was mine so irreverently, but I could not delude myself into thinking he was at fault, for I was well aware that the boy was simply another pawn in his master's scheme. No, it was Vincent who took most of the blame, and this entire place that had allowed him to commit such atrocities. I felt fury burn in my chest, and would have eagerly given in to my anger and killed him if we had been alone. It was only for the welfare of my slaves that I abstained.
But for Trowa I could find very little anger. I was dimly aware that I should have been furious; not only had he not trusted me, but he had also put me in a position that could severely compromise my standing in Collar, and he had not even given me the time to prepare for this possibility. His actions had created this problem, and now I would have to deal with it the best I could.
And yet… when I looked at Trowa, the same broken doll that I had purchased so few months ago, I could feel only pity and sadness. Whatever pain and anger I was feeling, I had no doubt that he was suffering a thousand times more. Only once did I actually feel angry at Trowa for being so easily taken in by Vincent, and that was when my gaze had fallen upon Quatre, who was so starkly white that I feared he might faint, his eyes staring nearly sightlessly at the screen, his body wracked with tiny convulsions as he tried to keep himself from crying. Wufei eventually took Quatre into his arms, pressing the smaller boy's face into his shoulder to stop the images that so upset him. Whatever betrayal Trowas actions had been to me, they had certainly been worse to Quatre.
The recording ended when Trowa, covered in semen and partially in shock, redressed and staggered out of the frame. The lights flipped on, and all those crowded around, both masters and slaves, turned their attention back to the battle of wills that was about to commence between Vincent and me.
"Now that you have witnessed the transgression, I'm sure you wish to punish your slave. As you can see, I've already taken the liberty of punishing Key," he said, gesturing to his slave, who was on the floor sobbing, casting angry, betrayed glares at his master when he wasn't looking. "I should hope you understand the gravity of this situation. Slaves must be punished quickly and accordingly, or they feel that they can repeat their crimes."
It was only then that I took the time to really look at the slave, Key. He had been whipped, that much was clear from the dark bruises on his back, but the painful part was most likely the four inch long steel needles thrust through the skin of his shoulders and back. Bleeding sluggishly, the needles were small enough not to cause real damage, but large enough to cause significant pain.
"I find using the small spikes works very well with slaves who are rebellious or disloyal," Vincent said nearly in my ear as I continue to watch his writhing slave. "They won't damage the slave's body, but they manage to leave a rather last impression, don't you think?"
And then it all fell into place.
This… event, this dance, possibly even this party itself, were all just an elaborate trap that I had walked into, and Trowa had sprung. A trap not simply to destroy my reputation, but an attempt to take out a competitor as well. Vincent wanted to get me so angry that I would beat Trowa until he was nearly useless, destroy our bond, and make him lose the edge in his competitions. But the genius of it was that, in this position, I almost couldn't win. If I took Trowa away to punish him in private, as I was want to do, the other masters would believe me to be weak, which would put all my slaves at risk of more of these plots. If I punished him in public, I would have to match or exceed what Vincent had done, which would be nearly impossible with Trowa's fear of needles. Either way, it seemed, I was going to have to do something harmful. Vincent had managed to back me into a corner.
But, if there was one thing Collar was teaching me to do, it was getting out of tight spots.
"Put him on the rack," I instructed, motioning to Heero and Wufei. "Face forward, no clothes."
Glancing at each other hesitantly for only a moment, the two moved to comply with my orders, first pulling an X-shaped rack into the middle of the room, then pulling Trowa to it, stripping him, and securing him to the structure. Trowa, for his part, was a doll in their hands, just as lifeless and twice as moveable. Quatre was nearly fit to be tied, clinging desperately to Duo and biting his lips to keep from sobbing, but I knew I couldn't possibly deal with him in this situation, so I simply had to hope Duo and the others could keep him in check.
And then I turned to Trowa, strapped to a nasty-looking wooden X frame, all the color gone from his face, his body shaking and just barely staying on the other side of shock. I could see his eyes defocusing and his mind retreating, and quickly slapped him just hard enough to gain his attention.
"This is your punishment," I told him harshly. "You are not allowed to retreat from this."
His eyes focused in on me then, but from the look he gave me you would think I'd given an execution order. Trowa was so painfully shy that the feeling of all these eyes on him, accusing him, must have been overwhelmingly terrifying. I would have felt for him, if he had not had such a hand in putting me in this position.
Because if there was one thing about Trowa's involvement in all this that did sting, it was the fact that he didn't trust me. The fact that, despite all my care and all the time I'd spent with him, the lessons of Collar had still not been wiped out both depressed and infuriated me. Honestly, how much more could I do?
But I couldn't let myself feel hurt right now. I couldn't allow anger, or rage, or even pity to rule my mind. I couldn't allow myself to feel anything as I went to the buffet, picked up a bowl of sweet dipping cream, and threw it all over Trowa.
The room, which only a second before had been abuzz with the voices of agitated masters, was now deathly silent. Trowa appeared to have almost stopped breathing, the mess of white, sticky cream that now ran from his cheek down his belly and across his groin capturing all his attention. He was so shocked, now, that he actually cast a fearful glance in my direction.
"Don't look to me for help now," I chided loudly, taking the attention of the room. "You should have thought of that long before now, while you were letting that whore fuck you. No, this mess is entirely yours, Emerald, and I will not clean it for you."
Trowa flinched as though I'd struck him, turning his eyes to stare at the floor. I approached him, and he flinched as I moved my hand to raise his chin.
"Do you fear pain, Emerald?" I asked. "Is that why you concealed this from me? Then fear not, my pet, for I will not strike you," I said, causing a murmur to run through the masters. "I will not have to," I boasted, knowing it was necessary. "For whatever hold this slave has cast on you, I know that mine is a thousand times stronger and more resilient. By the time we are finished you will have not only confessed to me why you have sinned, but beg me for forgiveness."
"He tricked me," Trowa pleaded, some of the life returning to his eyes.
"You allowed yourself to be tricked," I corrected, and I saw that Trowa wanted to reply but dared not. "Ah, if you were merely tricked, tell me why you have yet to confess to me what has happened."
"I…" he began, but couldn't finish.
"Yes?" I asked, knowing that forcing this confession would be a harsh, but necessary punishment for Trowa.
"I had sex," he said simply,
"No. You let some stranger fuck you like a whore."
Trowa look incensed, tears pooling in those emerald eyes and making them shimmer like gems.
"Am I wrong? Was this a love match? A midnight rendezvous, perhaps?"
Trowa said nothing, simply staring piteously at me.
"Then tell me, what else would prompt you to seek elsewhere for your physical satisfaction? Tell me, do I disgust you? Do your fellow slaves repulse you? Are they that hideous?"
"No!" Trowa shouted, jerking against his restraints, two tears falling from his eyes, only to be flung aside in his maddened struggles. I waited until he sagged against the restraints, two more tears following the others.
"What else would make you allow another to fuck you like a common hole? What else would make you betray your master and bend over for little better than filth? Tell me what it is, Emerald!"
"I… I c-can't…"
"Tell me!"
"I'm not good enough for you!" he shouted, tears streaming in rivers down his face as he pulled desperately against his bonds once again. "Can't you see that? I'm not worth this! I'm not worthy of you! You c-can't ask th-this of me! I'm n-not enough!"
"How dare you?" I growled, my calm voice carrying just as much power as his screams. "How dare you presume to know what is or is not enough for me? Let me enlighten you, then. If you were not strong enough, I would make you stronger. If you were not lovely enough, I would make you lovelier. And if you were not good enough, I would make you better. The fact that you are here at all speaks volumes for how far I have brought you. But let me say it plainly, in case you have difficulty understanding," I said, turning to gaze directly into his eyes. "You are good enough, and any thoughts otherwise are an insult to me."
He was crying in earnest now, none of the confusion or fear of before clouding his broken sobs. These were the sobs of the guilty before the jury, of the child before the parent, and of the sinner before god. There was no denial in his cries, no attempt to hide his shame- only a feeble and hopeless plea for mercy.
Had we been alone, I would have granted the plea. I would have taken him to a dark corner and helped him lick the wounds on his soul. Had we been alone, though, I doubt I would have been forced to get him so upset that he would reveal the feelings of inadequacy that he had so cleverly hidden from us all. So perhaps it was best we were not alone… but I ached to pull him into my arms.
Instead, I turned my back on him.
"So, what can be done now, Emerald? I can't take you like that, covered in the filth of your deed. You have been defiled, and I cannot place you with the others with the evidence of your disloyalty still visible. I cannot clean this from you, so look elsewhere for salvation," I said, and prayed that my message was clear.
It was Duo who moved first, a slight surprise although Quatre still seemed too shell-shocked to move. I had thought it would be Wufei who realized my meaning first, but perhaps it was simply Duo's protective nature that prompted his attentiveness.
Duo moved gracefully as he approached, a contrast to the wracking, heaving sobs Trowa's body was engaging in. Deftly, Duo raised himself to his toes next to Trowa's ear. I heard him whisper, so faint that I knew no other masters would be privy to the information, "I get it. I know how it feels to think that this shit is all you're worth, all you're good for. But it's not true, alright? And if you ever forget that, you gotta come to us, 'cause we'll remind ya." Then Duo turned and began licking the cream from Trowa's face.
Heero was only a moment behind Duo, moving quickly in beside Duo to lick the cream from Trowa's chest. I saw for just an instant that Heero reached out and laced his fingers with Trowa's, giving a tight squeeze of encouragement, before returning to his task. It was a small sign of affection, probably unnoticed by the other masters, but Trowa's eyes slipped closed and he took a shuddering breath.
Wufei stepped up next, walking slowly and deliberately until he was face to face with Trowa. They stared into each others' eyes; Wufei's indifferent while Trowa's were pleading and still streaming tears that he seemed barely aware of. Finally, Wufei moved in and whispered into his ear, "You are too strong and noble to be so easily swayed. We will forgive you this time, but do us no more dishonor. The only ones to receive pain when you are dishonest are the ones you love and yourself." Then Wufei quickly licked a smear of sweet cream from the bridge of Trowa's nose, then knelt and began licking Trowa's left thigh clean as Heero licked the right and Duo worked on his belly.
The last to move was Quatre, who seemed frozen in his spot, staring in terror and betrayal at his naked and filthy lover. For several minutes I did not believe he would forgive Trowa. It took so long for him to move that I had actually begun thinking of options to finish this scene without Quatre, so that I was shocked when he finally took one shaky, uncertain step forward, and then ran for his lover. Quatre stopped only inches before Trowa, matching tears cascading down their faces, and they simply stared at each other. The guilt ate away at Trowa, that much was clear, but there were so many emotions dancing through Quatre's eyes that it was impossible to tell exactly what he was feeling. Safe to say pain was a prominent emotion, betrayal and anger, but also guilt and anguish on another level. Still, after only a moment he leaned forward and made a show of licking the cream of around Trowa's lips, eventually meeting his mouth in a deep, anguished kiss.
It didn't take the four of them long to have Trowa clean. A significant amount of the cream had been spilled across his groin, and in the last moments Trowa had been sobbing for another reason, his slim length standing at full attention. The slaves then cast their gazes to me, and with a nod to Wufei I instructed them to take him down.
"Make him ours again," I instructed, overseeing the proceedings but not approaching. "Drive all thoughts of the outsider from his body. Take him, mark him, and make him ready for me."
-Removed for content-
"I take care of what is mine, Emerald," I told him once I had caught my breath and could speak loudly enough fro all the other masters to hear. "I don't know how you forgot that, but I know that you will never forget it again."
Trowa nodded, although barely lucid, and I helped him to stand on shaky legs, beckoning for Duo and instructing him and Heero to take Trowa to wash up and then return to the party. They scurried off quickly, nearly dragging Trowa with them.
Around me, the other masters all seemed to be talking at once, but the general tone of the room was of pleased amazement, so I had to assume that my little performance had gone over well. Several masters commented, but it wasn't until Vincent approached me and said with significantly less mirth in his eyes, "Well, I can see why your slaves would have such loyalty to you. You certainly have a good hold over them," that I breathed a sigh of relieve. After that, Vincent stormed off him a huff, obviously pissed at failing to thwart me, and I settled back to enjoy the rest of the night's entertainment, hoping I wouldn't be a part of it again.
Trowa returned in a few minutes and sat in between my legs on the floor, clinging to my knees. He refused to budge from there for the rest of the night, including when I offered to let him dance with Quatre. I couldn't pay him too much mind, since he was still supposed to be in my disfavor, but I saw with some satisfaction that the other masters had taken note that my treatment of my slave had caused him to cling to me, while Vincent's slave spent most of the night casting angry looks at his master.
We didn't stay around too long after that. I would have left hours before we did, but then, if it had been up to me, we'd have never gone in the first place. Regardless, I was anxious to get Trowa into private and make sure he was holding up well with all he'd gone through. I knew, however, that a hasty retreat would be seen as a sign of weakness, so we waited until about half the crowd had left before I allowed myself to gather my slaves and begin my exit.
"Taking off so soon?" Vincent asked as I led my slaves to the exit. Trowa was barely an inch behind me, trailing at my heels, and bumped into me when I stopped.
"I seem to have tired them out," I said, wrapping an arm around Trowa, who leaned into the embrace and hid his face in my shoulder.
"Will I be seeing you tomorrow?" he asked.
"For breakfast," I stipulated, knowing that I would have to attend at least that. "Then we'll be going. We're leaving to meet with Master Darus after that. I've been told it's somewhat difficult to reach."
"The private island of the mad doctor. Yes, I've heard of him. His slaves are well renowned for their physical strength and skill," he informed me, as though I didn't already know.
"Indeed," I replied quickly. "But I really must be getting my slaves to bed," I hedged. I knew Trowa was exhausted, and the night had put a strain on me as well. But I really just wanted to get away from all these threats and back to some place I could protect them. I'd had about all I could take of watching my slaves injure themselves.
"I'll see you at breakfast then, shall I?" he asked. "Perhaps your slave will pleasure us with another song?" he asked, and from the intensity of his eyes I knew it for the challenge it was. If he thought his actions had managed to damage Trowa, he was far from right, and Trowa's shoulders stiffened in response.
"I could sing 'Under the Roses' if it would please you, master," he offered softly, but his eyes were hard with determination. I suppressed a sigh of relief.
"Tomorrow, then," I said to a very put-out looking Vincent, and whisked my slaves away.
But it was not so simple as that, and to think otherwise would have been a delusion. I knew the problems that had been unmasked tonight would take time and patience to heal, but I at least had hope now that it could be done.
When we arrived at the room, I instructed Wufei to play a movie for the others, and then led Trowa to the bedroom. I saw Quatre staring fearfully at me just once as I led his lover away, but faced no opposition as I isolated our acrobat and firmly shut the door on the others.
In the room, Trowa seemed more lost than he had been all night. He seated himself on the bed, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on knees, his eyes blank and hopeless. Still he would not reach for me, would not call for help, would not ask for forgiveness. And I realized with a startling certainty that he never would. I sighed softly and placed my hand on his cheek, turning him to look at me.
"You're my middle child, aren't you Trowa?" I wondered softly, gently running my thumb across his cheek. "So quiet, so self sufficient, that I hardly even notice you're there. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make feel that you were less than the others, love."
He shook his head, but leaned his cheek into my palm.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I try so hard, but I never seem to do anything right. I had hoped that I could at least keep from embarrassing you, and then I do nothing but cause trouble. I don't deserve to have your affection."
"Did nothing I said get through to you?" I wondered, feeling the least bit of frustration. "Listen, then. You are worth more than the effort I have given to you. You deserve far more than this. If there is nothing good you can accept about yourself, then at least accept that you have value because others value you. Because I value you. And because it hurts me to see you hurt."
For a moment I thought he would rebut even those words, but eventually he closed his eyes and nodded once, taking in my words with the utmost pain.
"Now," I continued, "we must discuss your attempt to hide this from me." He looked frightened at that, and this time I did sigh in exasperation. "You've already served your punishment. Don't give me looks like I'm going to hit you. However, you cannot do anything like this ever again. Do you understand? Your unwillingness to trust me put me in a terribly awkward position, and could have severely injured you or even one of the others. Never again, Trowa, do you understand?"
"Yes, master," he said, his voice thick and tight with emotion. "I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven," I told him, then pulled him to his feet. "Now, go talk to your lover. He's angry and worried."
"He won't want to talk to me."
"No, probably not, but you'll have to make him. You made choices that hurt him, Trowa. Now you'll just have to face up to that and win him back. Come, I know the others are worried."
We went then, with only a little resistance from Trowa, and joined the others in the living room. Trowa sat beside Quatre, but Quatre would not even glance at him after a sweeping look to make sure he was alright. Trowa seemed uncertain of what to do, but I knew that any meddling from me would only make things worse, so I let them go. Wufei even dragged me to bed early when he saw my need to have them getting along get to uncontrollable proportions. I was glad, because I was very close to interfering when I had promised myself that I wouldn't.
But sleep wouldn't come easily to me, and I sat up for at least an hour, holding Wufei in my arms and listening to his soft breathing. On most nights, holding the fiery little dragon in my arms calmed me, but my upset from the near-disaster was so great that I couldn't be soothed even by that. My mind kept wondering what would have happened if I hadn't been able to come up with something, if the other masters hadn't accepted it, if one of the other boys had gotten into trouble instead of Trowa. It ate at me, and eventually I had to flee the bed just to try to leave my thoughts behind.
My intention was to head to the kitchen and retrieve a nightcap, perhaps brandy or a strong Scotch. However, my path led me past the both the rooms that my other slaves were sleeping in, and I had to stop when I found Trowa curled up, sound asleep against the door to the room he shared with Quatre. I sighed so loudly that Trowa's eyes fluttered open and he glanced guiltily at me.
"Master, I…"
"Follow me," I ordered brusquely, continuing to the kitchen and knowing he would follow me. Once there, I poured two glasses of brandy and handed one off to Trowa. I didn't often encourage drinking in my slaves, but I was known to share the occasional shot of whiskey with Duo or glass of Bourbon with Wufei. Even Quatre liked an occasional Martini, and it seemed that Heero alone had no real taste for alcohol. I knew Trowa had a taste for Brandy, and if either of us was going to get any sleep that night we'd need something to calm us down. Once we finished, I places the glasses in the sink and beckoned for him to follow me again.
"Quatre's still angry, huh?" I asked as we passed his room again. Trowa nodded.
"I don't deserve him."
"I'm not sure Quatre would agree," I replied, wondering if I had imagined the sound of movement behind Quatre's door as I opened my own, "but you did hurt him very badly." I entered the room, then, only to find that Trowa would not follow me any further. "What's wrong?" I asked, but Trowa only shook his head. "Come to bed, then."
"I can't. I… I should wait for Quatre."
"Quatre may not forgive you tonight, Trowa. He's smarting from what you did, and he has a right to be. But I need you in top form tomorrow, which means you have to get some sleep. You're punishment from me has been completed, so I'm not going to allow you to sleep in an uncomfortable position. So, get in that bed, or I'll throw you in that bed," I threatened quietly, only half teasing. Reluctantly, Trowa nodded and climbed in the bed on the opposite side of Wufei, allowing me to climb into the middle. I sighed as I settled down, pulling Wufei into my arms and feeling Trowa at my back. The uncomfortable feeling that something was wrong faded from my mind, partially because I had set Trowa right and partially as an effect of the brandy, and I slipped quickly into sleep.
By morning, Quatre had joined us in the bed. He was curled on the other side of Trowa, facing the taller boy, with only a few inches between them. Trowa's hand was splayed out on the bed, like he was reaching for Quatre, whereas Quatre's hands were folded under his chin, like he was guarding himself. Were their emotions so strong that they'd mirrored them in their sleep?
I realized quickly that Wufei was gone, probably already doing his morning exercises. I stared at my two struggling slaves, wondering what I could do to help. I already knew the answer, though. The only, and the best, thing I could do to help, would be to do nothing at all. Any expression of will by me would be instantly interpreted as an order and followed just as quickly. More than that, though, I knew that this was simply something the two of them would have to work out on their own. Overcoming this would be a healthy step in their relationship, and if this was something that they couldn't reconcile then it would be better to break apart now than draw it out. I hoped that they could reconcile, but I didn't dare express that hope.
It wasn't until I saw Quatre starting to stir that I realized how important it was that I not be there when the two awoke. This, I knew, was the place where they would decide each other's fate, and having me there would destroy the entire process. So, even as Trowa sighed in his sleep and began to move along with Quatre, I forced myself to turn away.
"Don't interfere," I whispered to myself as I got up and padded quickly for the door. "Don't interfere. Don't interfere. Don't interfere." I managed to make it through the door and was just about to close it, but the sound of Quatre's voice made me hesitate, and I stopped with the door cracked ever the slightest open.
"It wasn't fair," he said softly to Trowa, unaware of my presence. "You were the one who misbehaved, and I got stuck sleeping alone."
"I'm sorry. You should have told me. I would have left."
"I don't want to punish you," he said softly, and I moved so that I could see his eyes diverted from Trowa's. They were both sitting up now, with Quatre on his knees facing his partner and Trowa still in the same defensive position, holding his knees to his chest. "I'm not your master, I'm just your lover. But you hurt me so much…"
"I'm sorry," Trowa whispered harshly, holding on to his knees like they would protect him. "If I had known how much it would hurt me I never would have…"
"Hurt me? Trowa, what about hurting you?"
"I'm alright…"
"Now, but what about before? How alone must you have felt to think that there was no one else you could come to for help, not even your lover? How little attention must I have paid you for you to think that you were so worthless?" Quatre asked. He was crying now, and clutching his chest as though his heart physically hurt for his lover. "If this were just about a mistake or an infidelity and you were this remorseful, I could easily forgive you. I'm not mad at you anymore, Trowa, but I'm so angry at myself!"
"Quatre, this wasn't your fault at all!" Trowa said, seeming genuinely upset at the thought.
"Isn't it? Whose fault is it then? Who else should have known how worthless you were feeling? Who else should have seen how badly your confidence was hurting? And the sick thing is… the thing that damns me the most… is that everyone else saw it! Heero even told me- He told me!- to talk to you about being so down. And I just brushed him off! 'Nothing's wrong with Trowa,' I told myself, 'Trowa's always so strong for me. There can't be anything wrong with him.' And so the one time you needed me to be strong, to do the same thing you do for me all the time, I totally let you down! I…" and there Quatre's voice broke, his sobbing becoming to harsh for talking. Trowa could no longer resist, and pulled the smaller boy to his chest. Quatre grasped onto him, as though he would be pulled away. Trowa waited until the sobbing subsided to continue.
"That's not true. Please, Quatre, you've always been my light. I couldn't live without you. And even after all the times I failed…"
"Never," Quatre replied harshly. "You never failed me. I won't hear you say it. You would have sacrificed everything for me, and you gave me everything you could."
"Quatre…"
"No!" Quatre demanded in a tone of voice I had never heard him take with Trowa. "Half this problem is because I let these things go. All the little put downs, all the lessening of your achievements. I'd always thought you were being modest, but apparently it's simply you putting yourself down and I won't let anyone do that, not even you. So listen to me now: You are talented, beautiful, and brave. You are the single most amazing person I have ever met in my life. And I'm going to tell you this every day for the rest of my life, until you actually believe it."
"I don't deserve you," Trowa replied, turning his head away. I saw Quatre reach up and place a hand on his cheek, turning him back.
"You do. And I'm going to make you believe that."
And then they kissed, clinging to one another like two halves that had once again become a whole.
"Had your fill yet?" a whisper said from behind me. I jumped, then rounded to find Wufei standing behind me, smirking.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough. I hadn't known you had known you were such a voyeur."
"I… It… They… That's totally not it!"
"Of course not," he said, still smirking as he reached past me and firmly closed the door. "Now that you know those two are alright, don't you think you have another slave who needs some attention for his problems?" he asked. His question stopped me, and I almost panicked, wondered what Heero and Duo were doing. Had I been so wrapped up in Trowa and Quatre that I'd missed something they needed? As I thought about it, Wufei turned and began to walk away from me.
"When you figure out who I'm talking about, I'll be in the bath. And my… problem… will still be waiting for you."
"…Oh."