Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Slave to Fate ❯ Realisation ( Chapter 3 )

[Title] Slave to Fate
[Author] Lady Briony
[Pairings] 3x1
[Warnings] Slavery, AU, occasional POV's, sap, angst
[Summary] Trowa and Heero are both slaves to their fates.
[Original Characters In this Chapter]
Lady Alexia, queen and Trowa's mother
Trowa's father, King Torre
Willow Barton, illegitimate daughter of Alexia and Trowa's half sister
Lucille Bloom, Catherine's alleged mother and slave/lover to Torre

Slave to Fate
Chapter Two - Realisation

"How is he with you, baba?" Alexia asked, glancing up from her sewing to her son. She was speaking of course of his slave, the boy who for a year and a half had been with him, a gift from his father.

"Cold, and distant. I so much want to make him open up, but forcing him to by command would make him shut himself to me as a person… I don't know what to do, mother." Trowa sighed quietly. He too, was watching his slave talk to the other two slaves, Quatre and Duo. He seemed to be getting on with them, not speaking much but answering questions when asked.

"I'd say he's shy but that's not really Heero…" Alexia mused, "He's a very strange case. And Torre wouldn't really want him opening up to you, just respecting, fearing and needing you."

"Yes. Perhaps he meant it this way."

The lady nodded thoughtfully, "Be careful Trowa. Maybe you are right about him. Keep trying to get Heero to open up to you, though, baba. You may need his friendship more than his loyalty when you become king."

"I don't want to be king, mother!" He protested.

"Willow and Catherine cannot be in the succession." Alexia sighed, "They are illegitimate and you know it. Your sister's loath being hidden away as they are too, but we cannot make Torre Willow's father or me Catherine's mother. It is a blemish on our family, but it must be so, and it means you must be king."

Trowa sighed, knowing there was no way out of it. He stood and called his slave softly, "Come on Heero, it's time to leave."

"Yes, master."

~*~*~*~

Trowa looked at his slave as he hurried around the room. They had been master and slave for two years. The years didn't really show on Trowa, who was still the calm boy who was too mature for his years. Heero had grown, still smaller than his master was, but he had put on muscle. He didn't trust his master anymore than he had at first, but he was resigned to his life. He was outwardly content with his seat by Trowa's chair on the floor at meals. But Trowa wanted to know what was going on inwardly too.

As the brunette came to sit at his feet again, he said quietly, "Heero? Can I ask you something?"

"I'm yours, master." Heero said with a hint of surprise in his voice. "You can ask me what you like… and have me beaten for not answering."

Trowa sighed, moving off his seat to sit beside the boy on the floor. "I could have you beaten for impudence, too, but I wouldn't. I wanted to ask you… do you remember a time before my father bought you or captured you?"

Heero looked shocked. It was rare for a master to be as kind as Trowa was, and even rarer for a master to ask about his slaves past. "I'm not sure. I remember a woman… and a village… and the smell of a home…" He looked so terribly sad that Trowa moved closer, trying to see into those captivating blue eyes. Heero hadn't tagged the customary 'master' onto the end there, and Trowa hoped… After two years, was he finally reaching across that cold gap between master and slave?

"Was the women your mother?" He asked softly.

"I… I think so. Or my oldest sister, I think." Again, he forgot to add the 'master' he had always used before.

"And your home?"Trowa was leaning close now, eager to hear any stories of a home… All he knew was a cold palace with a cold-hearted father and a run down mother, not a home. He leaped at the chance to experience a real home through his slave. Heero was somehow more accessible now - as a slave, he had always seemed so inhuman and distant… but he was showing how human he was. Was that a tear in his strangely emotional eyes as he began to speak softly?

"The smell of tar, and fish, from boats… a home near the sea, I think. And a lot of children, my brothers and sisters? Always falling around and getting hurt, and then… me? Sitting under a table." And suddenly he was crying, and Trowa realised how terribly young they both were. He felt like a boy five years his senior… Slowly he reached out and drew his slave into his arms and held him tightly as he cried.

"All I know of a home is this palace… My mother is just… my mother… she love's me very much and calls me 'baba', but… you are lucky, Heero." He whispered. And in that moment, Heero suddenly realised how human his master was. He hadn't personally taken him away from that home and was willing to talk about it… Somehow, his stubbornness to trust any master was buckling under the weight of Trowa's decency, the way he cared. Heero rested his head against his owner's shoulder, taking what comfort he could.

"Master…" He whispered, and suddenly there was no hate behind those words, just a kind of distant respect.

~*~*~*~

"Did my father ever have you taught to read and write?" Trowa asked as Heero quietly did the tidying up of the room expected of him. No other slave was allowed to care for Trowa anymore… Alexia and Trowa, and also Torre trusted Heero to do all the work closely involved with Trowa faithfully. Since that day when they had spoken of homes and families, the gap was slowly closing between the two.

"No, master. I believe he preferred me ignorant." To tell the truth, Heero was curious about those two arts.

"Do you wish me to teach you?"

"Do you want me to wish for you to teach me, master?" He asked. Sometimes he liked to tease Trowa with answers like that, answers that teased him and yet he could not punish his slave for if he was the fair master he claimed or tried to be.

"I'd like to teach you, Heero, if you have no objection." Trowa said quietly.

"It's your decision master, but I would like to learn if you have time to teach me."

"Come here then, and we can start now." Trowa said firmly, "Whatever you're doing isn't important," He said quickly to make sure he didn't protest.

"Yes, master." Heero put the thing he was working on down and moved to sit beside his master on the narrow seat as indicated. Heads close together, Trowa started to teach his slave the arts of reading and writing. Alexia, opening the door to ask Trowa something, spied them sitting close and for once, in harmony, as Trowa taught and Heero soaked up the information. She shut the door and backed out with a smile, happy her son was reaching his bonded slave finally. What she wanted could wait.

"What does this mean, master?" Heero asked as he tried to figure some words on a page of a book that lay open.

Trowa leaned over the writing, then shook his head. "Let me read it out to you… It's actually a bit about slaves bound to masters… like you and me. This bit is about famous bond-slaves."

Heero leaned forward, intrigued by his master's purpose in having the document. He leaned against Trowa's shoulder and stared at the words that looked like nothing more than clever swirls to him.

Trowa's voice was calm and soothing, his voice pattern rising and falling steadily. He was a good reader, hardly stumbling over the longer words. "'The first really famous bond slave to be given to a member of the royal families was Lucille Bloom, of a small village in the North. She was given as a gift to the prince at the time, Prince Torre, who later became a good and gracious king. Many rumours were circulated about Lucille and Torre, but it was never confirmed that Torre's daughter Catherine, who did not enter the succession, was the daughter of Lucille who allegedly died of poison.'" He looked at Heero steadily, "The next bit is about you… do you want me to read it?"

"Please, master…" Heero said in a whisper, wondering if he would discover his last name and his village from this report.

Trowa looked at his face and nodded, beginning. "'King Torre gifted the next bond slave in the royal family to his legitimate son, Prince Trowa. It seemed he was making sure his son would have no illegitimate child by giving him a male slave, Heero Yuy, also from the North. Not much is known about this slave and master, but Prince Trowa is expected to become king after King Torre and the slave boy to become his protector…' It goes on from here about the ins and outs of slavery. I got it to find out about your family, possibly."

"From the North…" Heero breathed with his eyes large. He looked up Trowa and one of the last barriers between them seemed to crash down, "Thank you, master."

Trowa regarded his slave with sudden pride, "I did what I could… I'd hate to have had a home and a name and not known what or where they were."

~*~*~*~

"Come on, Heero." Trowa whispered to his slave. They were just outside the palace, at thirteen finally judged old enough to explore the city. The King had ordered a knife to be given to Heero and a sword to Trowa for protection, and then he had agreed. They could go out into the city.

Heero kept close to his master as they went through the crowds. This was nothing like the small village he remembered as his home, it was so large and there was so much movement and noise. Trowa reached a shaking hand back to him and he took it unconsciously, holding it so he didn't loose his master in the crowds.

Finally they reached a quieter part of town, near the river. They sat on a wall together, the collar round Heero's neck clearly marking him as a bond-slave and not to be touched. The rich colours and fabrics of their clothes plainly marked them as from the palace, and some people were staring at the two thirteenyear olds as they passed.

"This is so different to being cooped up in the palace!" Trowa whispered. Heero nodded.

Over the last year, since Trowa had begun teaching his slave to read, they had become closer. Heero's service was no longer as grudging as it had been, and sometimes he truly enjoyed being with his master. He was no longer as defiant of questions asked, too, he would give straight forward answers and sometimes forget to add the 'master' onto the end, which pleased and amused Trowa. He also trusted Trowa's mother, the Lady Alexia, because she was kind and sweet, and from the first had been adamant he not call her 'mistress' as he should.

After a few moments, Heero said softly, "Master, the market is over there. Shall we go and see?"

Trowa smiled and nodded, sliding off the stone wall where he had been sitting. "Yes, why not? It's what we're here for, and I must admit I'm curious. Are you?"

"Yes, master." He bobbed his head in agreement as he followed his master across the courtyard. As he did so, he caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned, whipping his head round. His knife was out in a split second as he was suddenly pounced on. "Master!" He called out to warn him as another man sprinted out of the shadows. Trowa turned, but his sword was only half out before he was knocked to the pebbles.

Heero struggled harder, needing to reach his master before this assailant killed him. On the initial impact, his knife had driven into the man's body and winded him, so he was breathless and bleeding. Heero kicked and bit, feeling furious. Someone was touching him that wasn't his master. It was sick revulsion, fear and adrenaline that flooded him and gave him extra strength as he managed to throw his attacker back, wounded and out of the action.

Trowa wasn't doing so well. He had been surprised, despite his slave's warning, and the man on him was larger and more heavyset than the one who had attacked Heero. Slowly, Trowa was being rolled towards the river. A crowd was gathering to watch, but no one would lift a hand to help his master.

With a growl he threw himself into it, trying not to hurt his master as he tried to drag the other man off his more slightly built frame. He caught sight of his master's pale determined face and nodded. Together, Heero dragged and Trowa pushed, using the momentum of the roll to throw the man off, down into the river.

There was a long silence. His master lay back against the cobbles, exhausted and overwhelmed by the enormity of what they had just done. Heero caught his eyes and knelt slowly beside him, questioning, "Master?"

Trowa sat up and suddenly hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Heero." He whispered hoarsely, "If you hadn't have been here…"

"It was my job, master. But I'm glad I helped." Heero said. There was a long moment and then he asked, "Are you wounded, master?"

"Just a scratch."Trowa said with a wince as he stood, "I've had worse from my father's assassins." His eyes widened at the sight of all the blood on his slave's clothes. Panic entered his voice, "And you? Is that blood yours?"

"No, master."He said proudly. He turned to indicate the other man who had attacked him first, "All his."

"Good… you did well." Trowa praised him, then winced again, putting a hand to his aching side. Heero narrowed his eyes;

"I think we'd better get your 'scratch' treated, master. I'll help you back to the palace and then ask for some salve and bandages from your mother."

Trowa grimaced, "It's not that bad. Just bleeding… it's shallow. It won't need bandaging."

He stopped arguing as his slave gave him a steely-eyed look. "Alright…" He submitted, letting his slave support his weight a little as they went back towards the palace.

~*~*~*~

"Heero! Where is Trowa? Why are you bleeding? I didn't expect you back so soon… what happened?!" Alexia cried, hurrying out. Heero didn't mind her touch as she cupped his face in her hands, her own face paper white and worried.

"Assassins." He said softly, "Not my blood. Trowa's and the man who tried to get me."

"Did you kill…? Oh, I'm being stupid, of course you did." She was distressed now, "So Trowa is hurt?!"

"Yes. I will look after him… if you have bandages and salve I can use." Heero's face didn't show his real worry for his master, but inside he was screaming at the woman to get out of the way, give him the things and let him run back to his still bleeding master.

A young girl came out, perhaps two years older than Heero and Trowa. She held a pot of the precious salve in her hands and a bundle of bandages. "Here you are. Look after my brother." She commanded him.

"Thank you, Willow." Alexia said, straightening up and releasing Heero, her worry being pushed to the back as she realised Heero should go and tend her son as soon as possible. Trowa's sister smiled and nodded to her brother's slave and pushed him to the door and out.

"Thanks, Willow." He muttered himself. He was surprised that Alexia's illegitimate daughter would be so openly in evidence around the palace. But he didn't waste time on thinking about it, instead heading off to his master's rooms again.

Trowa smiled at the sight of Heero, "I'm not dying, you know. There's no rush."

"I didn't rush, master." He lied. Trowa had already removed his bloodstained shirt and put it carefully down somewhere where the blood would not stain. His muscled chest was smeared a little with the blood, but the 'scratch' was a long, shallow cut over the bottom of his ribs, not too serious but bleeding a lot. There was a little dirt on the wound, indicating to Heero that it had been a dirty blade. He needed to clean it with alcohol to make sure there was no infection… he caught sight of a bottle of wine and nodded to himself, tearing off a bit of his already bloody shirt and wadding it up.

"This will sting, master." He warned as he poured the wine onto the folded scrap of shirt.

"Alright." Trowa gritted his teeth as his slave knelt beside him and began to gently swab the blood away. He hissed at the sting, but let Heero continue his cleaning of the wound.

"Why would someone want to kill you, master?" He asked as he worked, trying to take Trowa's mind away from the blood and pain.

"My father thinks that the common people love me too much." Trowa said softly, "He tries to kill me quite often… during the past few years, he hasn't… until today, I think. It would have worked, but for you."

"Your father made a mistake in giving you a slave like me, then." Heero said in a puzzled tone.

"It seems he did." Trowa agreed.

"Why would he want to kill the heir to the throne, though, master? Surely he wants his children to reach the throne after him!"

Trowa shrugged, then hissed as the movement pulled his skin and made his wound wider. Heero glared at him for the movement and began to press harder with the wine soaked cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Perhaps my father wants his daughter Catherine to take the throne. Lucille's daughter. He does not love my mother, it was a political marriage, and he hates her seeing as she gave birth to Willow, another man's child. Maybe he would prefer Lucille's child to sit the throne when he dies rather than me. It is said that he really did grow to love Lucille in the years he spent with her."

"I thought your mother was devoted to your father… I wouldn't have thought she would have an affair…" Heero said tentatively.

"Me neither." Trowa said with a sad sigh, "But Willow is the proof… and proof that my mother is not perfect."

"You have to be so strong to survive around here…" Heero said in wonder. "You do well, master."

Trowa bent his head and sighed, "Thanks."

~*~*~*~

He couldn't sleep. The bandages Heero had wrapped so tightly round his body were itching, and he felt enclosed so he could hardly breathe. He sat up, looking down to the foot of the bed at his slave. He wasn't asleep yet, his blue eyes open but introverted, his breathing light. Trowa stared down at his tousled brown hair for a moment before he said softly, "Heero?"

"Yes, master?" The boy asked, starting up, "Are you comfortable? Are the bandages alright?"

Trowa smiled at his slaves concern, then drew back the cover a little and patted the space beside him. "Sleeping at the end of the bed can't be comfortable… Only the most trusted slaves are allowed to sleep beside their masters, I hear, so you deserve the honour."

"Y-yes, master."Heero stammered, scooting up the bed. He looked into his master's emerald eyes with fear, "Are you sure, master…?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'd feel… safer, with you beside me, anyway." Trowa played his ace card well. The look of pleasure on his slave's face was beautiful as he nodded, honoured beyond words. He settled down beside his master comfortably, a smile on his face.

T.B.C. A.S.A.P.

Last notes - Well, I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! *grins happily* You're great, all of you.