Archive of Our Own

Castles and Dragons

How did I end up like this? Quatre through as he - “she” - looked up at the tower before him. He exited the carriage and immediately, there was a guard on each side of him. Stepping away, a third guard fell in behind. He was a prisoner, that was all there was to it. He tried very hard not to trip over the skirts he wore – it wouldn’t do to have him fall on his face. He had already been humiliated enough.

~A week earlier ~

Quatre knocked on the door to his late-father’s study. His father’s funeral was still fresh in his mind. It hadn’t even been a day when his father’s brother, Uncle Amir, had called him to come meet him in the late Omar’s study. He had a fair idea what this would be about.

“Come in,” the voice called from within, and Quatre obeyed.

Inside, the study was rather dark and stuffy. The windows had remained closed and the fireplace, paired with the candles that lit the room gave the space a dark, rather ominous glow. Amir wasn’t alone, Quatre noted, as he stepped in to stand before his uncle. Off to the side was a woman in a tight black dress and a dark cloak with gold trim. Her face was obscured by the hood, but a pale hand could be seen grasping the tall ebony staff that stood taller than her.

Quatre waited.

“I’m sure you know why I’ve called you,” Amir said, without preamble, giving Quatre a dark-eyed stare.

“Succession,” Quatre said, just as curtly. “You don’t think that I am a suitable heir, but you’ve no choice in the matter, uncle. I’m the crowned prince and there is no point in contesting it. You have no claim, but I would rather not feud with you. I’m willing to hear what you have to say.”

“That’s good… because I AM contesting this. You may be crowned as the heir, but everyone knows a woman may not inherit the crown…” he grinned.

“What are you talking about, uncle?” Quatre asked, looking extremely befuddled. Yes, he was effeminate, and yes, he’d failed to show interest in the ladies of the court, but how did that make him a woman?

Amir nodded to the lady beside him and she began chanting. Below Quatre’s feet, the ground began to glow. There were circles and spirals and writing he did not understand glowing beneath his feet, like embers coming to life. There was a flash of light and the within the concentric circles, a rush of air seemed to try and knock him over.

Then… as suddenly as it began, the air, the lights, and the glow – they all died down. Quatre was left panting in the middle of the runic circles, but… nothing seemed to happen. He looked down at himself and didn’t see anything different. His shirt was rumpled and had partially come undone, and when he looked up, his uncle was grinning and holding up a mirror.

“My dear Quatre, as I said, a woman cannot inherit.”

Quatre stared, in shock, at his reflection. It was him… but… his body looked slightly different. The way his shirt was hanging open, it looked like he had breasts! Granted, they were small, but they were there! He looked down at himself, and frowned, his chest was very flat. Looking up at the mirror, however, he had subtle curves that his body did NOT possess!

“What did you do to me?” he asked, glaring between his uncle and the red woman.

“We have discovered your secret, my dear. But what we don’t know is how you managed to convince so many that you were a boy all these years. GUARDS!” Amir called out, smirking. When a pair of guards came in, he pointed at Quatre. “Take PRINCESS Quatre up to her room. We have discovered her for the liar she is. Don’t let her out until she’s decently dressed, and in the morning – take her to the tower with the rest of them.

Quatre struggled in their arms, noting how embarrassed they looked to be grabbing him. “I will argue with you on this, uncle. *I* am the rightful heir!”

“You have a month,” the red woman said.

Everyone froze.

“Since you are the crowned heiress, you shall have a month to be rescued or escape from your tower. If a suitable prince rescues you, or if you free yourself, you shall reign. If you fail to do so, the crown will go to the next male in line.”

“Take them BOTH away!” Amir seethed – but the woman in red was gone. Disappeared into a column of flames that left nothing in their wake – not even a scorch mark.

Quatre was dragged back into his room and did not see the light of day until he was moved from the castle to his tower.

It didn’t take long to arrange for Quatre to be transported from his castle home to his new prison. The ride did not last long since the enchanted castle had been alerted that they would be receiving a new “princess” to “protect”. Managing not to trip over himself as he was pulled out of the carriage, Quatre was escorted by palace guards to his room in the enchanted castle. As he walked, feeling the weight of the pretty, but damning bands of silver on his feet, his heart sank and his ire grew. He was a MAN, damn it! “Boy,” by some standards, but he was most definitely MALE. He was the crowned PRINCE and now he was being walked into his gilded cage, like a princess, to both ‘protect’ his virtue (*scoff*) and await rescue. Who had ever THOUGHT of this ridiculous arrangement? WHY was this the norm?

He’d questioned it before, but he’d always been told that this was the way it was and was discouraged from asking again. Quatre vowed that WHEN he became king, this whole stupid idea would be thrown out the window!

He’d been forced into a corset and a dress, and the silver bands on his ankles had been sealed with magic. Once he arrived at his destination, he would not be able to leave his appointed rooms without first breaking the bands. That should be easy enough…if he didn’t have to use magic to do it. He’d have to test them and find out. He refused to wear shoes, but a headdress and veil were forced onto him – a lady (supposedly) never showed her face and hair to strangers. Ridiculous. He’d seen MANY a lady’s hair! He endured it only because it hid his face and the humiliation he was currently going through. He’d managed to sneak a small blade into his corset, but the blade and sheath were so far down his corset, he didn’t know if he’d be able to get to them, the damn thing was so tight!

He was walked past a room that looked a lot like a garden where he saw a pair of women chatting and doing needlework. One was a beautiful blonde woman with long blonde hair. Quatre idly thought she looked much like the portrait of his late mother. He paused when she turned to him, giving him a cold look.

“Are you Quatre?” she asked, coming closer to the archway that separated the garden room and the rooms beyond from the hallway in which he now stood, surrounded by palace guards.

Quatre nodded, but his voice had left him.

“I don’t know how you managed to fool so many through to adolescence,” she said coldly. “Why did you get to enjoy freedom while we’ve been trapped here?” she hissed.

Quatre had no answer to that. Not really. He knew all she saw was a skinny girl with a veil over her face. “I am a boy,” was all he said, “And I will free you, one way or another,” he promised.

She gave him the once-over, but nodded, “If you say so.”

Quatre didn’t stay to hear anything else. He continued walking through the maze of hallways and corridors until he arrived at another arched doorway. Inside, it was also rather garden-like, but the flowering plants were missing. Instead, it was grassy with vines along the opposite wall. There were a few ferns here and there, but there wasn’t much else. There was a door to the right and one to the left. Both were open. It appeared that the one on the left was a bedroom and from what he could see of the one on the right, it appeared to be a study.

He turned to his guards, after having taken just a few steps into the garden and waited expectantly. “Well?” he asked. “Is there anything I need to know?”

One of them came forward and read from a scroll. Quatre learned that he was not to leave these rooms. There was a little magic to them, and they would tailor, with time, to his tastes… but that the changes would be subtle. For example, his favorite plants would grow, and the colors in his room would change to fit his taste. He might occasionally find things in the study that would entertain him – like paints or needlework. Quatre had to roll his eyes at that.

He was also asked if he would like a lady’s maid, like his sister had – he quickly turned that down.

He was informed that clothing had been prepared and could be found in the armoire in the bedroom. If he required anything that was not found in his suites, he would have to request it for the dragons. THAT caught Quatre’s attention, but he didn’t have a chance to ask. They walked away immediately – like they were forbidden from interacting with him any more than absolutely necessary.

That was fine by him. He needed to explore and see if he could get the hell out of this place before the end of the month.

Quatre explored his room, which there wasn’t much to. There was a vanity, a bed, an armoire, and a window. Additionally, there was an adjacent room for him to bathe and relieve himself, which he supposed was a blessing. He did not fancy the idea of having to use a chamber pot in place of an indoor privy. Much to his dismay, however, the clothes he found were dresses. All of them dresses. Growling in irritation, he grabbed the three hanging in there and marched them through the bedroom, dragged them through the grass in the garden, then threw them out into the hallway. Satisfied that he’d taken care of the offending items of clothing, he walked over to the study.

There was a reading chair, and a desk with paper and pens and ink. That made sense. He did recall getting correspondence from his sisters from time to time, and thinking on it, it made even more sense that his sisters would be allowed to correspond with one another. It would be awfully lonely otherwise – handmaid or not! Flipping through the books, he was immediately bored. Poetry? Romance? What drivel!

Maybe he’d come across a dragon. That would at least be a LITTLE interesting.

Just then, he noticed a window in the study… but instead of a view of the outside world, he had a view of a corridor, where a man was sitting, polishing a helmet with dragon features etched onto it.

“Hello?” Quatre called out.

The man looked up, and frowned. His dark hair tied back tightly and his eyes were strangely angled and shaped, the color of ebony.

“Hello… can you help me?” Quatre asked.

The man stood and came closer to Quatre, “What may I do for you, my lady?” the man asked.

“First off, don’t call me that,” Quatre growled, ripping off the offending veil he realized he still wore. “My name is Quatre. Call me that, please. Can you help me get out of here?” he asked. He knew the answer was going to be no, but he had to ask.

“I’m afraid my job is to keep you in,” the man said.

“What’s your name?” Quatre asked curiously. “And if you’re not here to get me out, who are you?”

“My name is Wufei – I am a dragon.”

Well, there went the idea of fighting a dragon.

“Can you give me a sword then? Or even a knife?” Quatre asked hopefully. “I’ll give it right back.”

The young man shook his head, “I can’t do that.”

“Then can you help me cut off this damned dress?” Quatre asked, getting frustrated.

THAT got him a reaction!

“I most certainly will NOT! What kind of lady are you?! Are you deliberately trying to get me in trouble? I will not be accused of doing anything so dishonorable to a princess! What kind of man do you take me for?!” he seethed, his black eyes beginning to glow red.

“I’m a PRINCE,” Quatre snapped at him, “and if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone else who will!” He noticed that the window had shutters and in his anger, he slammed them shut. It felt good to slam something. It didn’t do anything to help his situation, but it felt good to make some noise.

He once again began to survey the room and it was then that he spied the full length mirror behind him. He came up to it and studied not only it, but the reflection that stared back at him.

His face was still his own and his hair was still short. If anything, his jaw seemed a tad more rounded than he knew it was. He reached up to touch his face and felt a stronger jaw than the one he saw in the mirror. His eyes traveled down and stopped at his chest. The reflection in the mirror showed the tops of small, budding breasts peeking out from the neckline of his dress, pushed up by the relentless corset. He looked down at his actual chest, felt it with his hands, and then looked back up at the mirror. The chest under his hands was flat. The flesh peeking up above the neckline was hard with muscle, not soft and pillowy, as his reflection implied. Is this what everyone was seeing?

In a fit, he ripped off the skirts he wore, leaving himself only in smallclothes. That is, the shift that came down to his knees over the thin pants he wore, that gathered at the knees with a bit of lace.

Looking at his reflection, he had to fight the bile rising up in his throat. It was flat down there. With a trembling hand, he touched himself, afraid of what he WOULDN’T find, and let out a sigh of relief when he felt that he was still very much male. He looked down, gathered the shift up to his waist and peeked inside the pair of underpants he wore. He was still intact… but if his reflection was any indication, no one could see it.

That made him see red and in a fit of anger, he punched the mirror, smashing the smooth surface. Thankfully, he still had the remains of his skirt wadded up around his fist, otherwise he would probably be picking glass shards out of his skin for the next two days.

Leaving the mess behind him, he walked back into the garden, and froze in his tracks when he saw someone standing there with a tray. The man quickly averted his eyes and Quatre realized that the man probably thought he was looking at a lady with the bottom half in a state of undress.

“Are you a dragon?” Quatre asked. When he nodded, Quatre pressed forward, “Are you allowed to come in here?”

“When commanded,” came the soft, smooth voice. It was nicer than the other dragon he’d met through the window.

“In that case, I command you to come in here and free me.”

“I am bound and must follow most commands… but I can’t do that,” the man said softly.

“Then I command you to come in and put the tray down. After that, I command you to help me get the hell out of this dress. I have no handmaid and I can’t reach the buttons. Once the dress is off, I order you to cut the cords that hold my corset shut.”

The man on the other side of the doorway looked shocked, vibrant green eyes looking up at Quatre with disbelief, but he did as he was told. He came in, put the tray of food down, then went behind Quatre and began undoing the buttons that held the top part of his dress on. Once Quatre was free of that, he took out a knife from its sheath on his belt and began cutting the cords on Quatre’s corset. Once it was loose, Quatre took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, his ribs aching. “I can breathe again.”

While the dragon couldn’t see, he grabbed the knife he’d hidden under his corset, hiding it in folds of his fabric and whale-bone body prison as he removed it from his torso, and rolled it all into a bundle to hide his contraband. The man was very notably averting his eyes.

“What is your name?” Quatre asked.

“Trowa,” said the dragon, “Is that all you require of me, princess?”

“No.” When the man tensed, Quatre continued, “Do not call me princess, I am a boy. If you must call me something, use my name. Quatre.”

The man nodded tightly and Quatre stepped away, “Thank you. I won’t keep you any longer… will you come back later? Are you allowed to talk to me?”

“We will take turns seeing to your needs, Princ- Quatre,” he said. “Conversing with the princes- prisoners,” he corrected, “is not encouraged, but it is also not forbidden. I’ll leave you to your supper.”

The guard, “dragon”, left then. Quatre was once again alone, but at least he no longer had a corset to contend with.

“She TOLD ME to cut her DRESS off of her! Can you believe such an INDECENT Princess has been put here!” Wufei was RANTING (as usual) to the only other Dragon around their age in the shared mess-hall that linked each of the Dragon’s tiny rooms to their training areas, and the corridors leading into their assigned sections of the castle.

Trowa sat down beside his friends, and quietly added in, “She commanded me to cut her corset off.”

Both Wufei and Heero (each, like Trowa, around 20 summers old), looked at him in utter shock…. Partially because of the command, but also because they both KNEW that Trowa had DONE it.  Trowa was always quite literal with rules, and when a Princess ‘commanded’ something, Trowa would do it—Even if it was standing on his head and singing a song.

“That is- Is-“ Wufei began.

But Trowa cut him off, “She was quite polite about the whole thing, I suppose… She seemed relieved to be out of it… She claims that she is actually a boy.”

“She said that to me, too” Wufei added, “As IF my eyes are wrong! She is CLEARLY female!”

Heero turned to Trowa, lifted a brow, and said, “YOU clearly took her corset off. Did she LOOK like a female to YOU?”  His tone was accusatory and it had been said JUST loud enough that two of the older Dragons overheard. Trowa’s face flushed red in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“I don’t know. I didn’t LOOK. I just did as commanded! And anyway, you are teasing the wrong Dragon anyway. Everyone knows that I don’t desire women! That’s why I always get stationed to work with the more difficult princesses, don’t I?” Trowa growled a little. His usual calm starting to leave him at Heero’s tease about impropriety. “I take pride in my position, unlike YOU, Heero. You may not have wanted to be here, but I come from a long line of proud Dragons. I know the rules, and I will uphold them.” 

Wufei put his hands out between the two in a gesture of calming. At the castle the longest (despite being virtually the same age) meant that he was the senior between them and he took it upon himself to make sure that the group of three ‘young’ dragons were regarded with the same dignity and respect as the older Dragons in the castle. He would never want to be associated with dishonor, and so, Wufei quickly moved to settle their differences, giving BOTH of them a glare for their outbursts.

Heero stood, and left the table. Trowa turned, to serve up his dinner for the night and tried not to talk about the rather difficult new …. Resident… that had come to shake up their quiet life at castle Reed.  Perhaps Trowa could figure out a way to make things run a little bit more smoothly for them all… Especially Wufei. Trowa owed him a lot, and if he could help? Then he would.

He decided then and there that this new Protected was… rather interesting. He would take it upon himself to make sure that things ran a bit smoother for this Protected. Quatre seemed special in a way that Trowa could not quite pinpoint yet, but, there was no mistaking that he felt a certain connection to the blonde that he could not really explain.  But he hoped that one day, it would become clear.

The other Dragons might accuse him of a bit of favoritism… but he would hardly be the first, and, he doubted that he would be the last. So what if he allowed himself to favor the feisty Princess? There were a lot worse rules that a Dragon could break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days had gone by and Quatre noticed that most of the dragons that came by to drop off food or pick up his dirty bed linens did not look at him. He supposed that it was because he was walking around his chambers in smallclothes – specifically, the under pants that gathered at the waist and knees. He didn’t feel like wearing the shift, which was really nothing more than a frilly, lacy DRESS.

It was in the evening when the dragon that would spend a moment or two to exchange a word with Quatre that one of them dared to say something.

“You’re making the dragons uncomfortable. You shouldn’t be so naked,” he said. “There are clothes for you, or there were when you arrived.”

Quatre noted that the man had come in, dropped off his dinner on the table, then had gone back to the archway. He was sort of leaning against it, mostly facing away from where Quatre stood, eyes very firmly averted. Quatre supposed it was easy to avert one’s eyes when so much hair was obscuring one’s vision anyway.

Quatre could have thrown a fit, but he actually liked this dragon. He was tall, and strong (not that such a build was unusual for a guard), but he carried himself differently than most of the others. They were all fairly quiet, but this one had a stillness about him, one that Quatre felt hid an intensity that the man took great pains to hide. He was handsome in the face, with a strong jaw, gorgeous tanned skin, and the more vibrant green eyes Quatre had ever seen. That was something all the dragons had in common, Quatre mused. They all had eyes that sparkled like jewels – even in the darkness.

“Those clothes were for women,” Quatre said, picking up the bit of sausage on his plate and eating on it while talking to the dragon, Trowa. “I refuse to wear them.”

“Isn’t that what you are?” the man asked, to which Quatre responded by throwing him an angry glare.

“I’m going naked tomorrow, unless someone brings me pants and a proper tunic,” Quatre informed him. “Call my bluff if you like, but I’m not the one that’s uncomfortable.”

Trowa walked away then, and if Quatre wasn’t mistaken, the handsome man was smirking as he did so. Was he amused? Or did he think Quatre wouldn’t do it?

Quatre finished his dinner and went to bathe before crawling into bed. Stubborn dragons had no idea how stubborn Quatre could be… and so far, the knife he’d smuggled in to his prison was doing absolutely no damage to the silver bands that kept him prisoner. In the morning, he would scour the books in the study once again for any title that might help him figure out this magic. The titles of the books were constantly changing, he’d noted. The ones that he threw in a heap on the floor did not reappear on the shelves. Idly, he wished that magic-related volumes would appear for him as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Quatre woke up feeling quite refreshed. He washed his face in the basin and gathered up his bedding to toss into the hall. It actually DID feel kind of nice (productive!) to strip and make his own bed. When he walked into the garden area, he smiled when he noticed his breakfast was already waiting for him on the table, and on the chair beside it was a new set of clothes. Brown breeches and a cream colored cotton tunic.

Throwing his bedding into the hall, he hurried over to his new clothes, naked as the day he was born, and picked up the pants. He was just sliding them up over his hips and fastening them when he heard a voice behind him, “Wufei did not believe you’d walk around naked until he came to pick up your bedding.”

Quatre turned, spying the tall Dragon Trowa standing there with a book in his hands – eyes averted. Quatre put on the tunic and laughed, “He should have been the first to believe it. He never misses a chance to mutter something about indecency when in my presence. I’m not sure if he thinks I can’t hear him or if he’s trying to shame me. Either way, it doesn’t affect me. Come in,” Quatre smiled. “Now that I’m dressed, you shouldn’t have to look away, even if you think I’m a princess in breeches.”

The man did come in then, “I can’t stay. I need to be at my post, but I thought you might want this. I’m not sure why, but this morning I woke up thinking you might be interested. You keep throwing out the romance and poetry… I thought you might want to read about history instead,” Trowa said, handing him the book, but he looked… nervous.

“History?” Quatre asked, taking a bite of toast before putting it down to accept what Quatre felt to be a peace offering. The cover had a dragon on it, and though the embossed leather was very well taken care of, he could tell that the book was both old and well-read. “Is this from your personal collection?” Quatre asked.

The man didn’t say anything, but Quatre got the feeling that it was important to him.

“I’m sorry…I’m keeping you. Thank you for sharing. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it much more than the prose that den is trying to subject me to.”

Quatre read for the better part of the morning, and, much to his surprise, he did quite enjoy reading this dragon history chronicle that had been loaned to him. There were stories about individual dragons, some heroes heralded by the humans as near deities, but most attacked by humans to near-extinction. In this day and age, serpentine dragons and dragons that resembled towering lizard-like beasts with wings and the ability to breathe fire were seen as little more than myth.

The only “dragons” that existed today served as guardsmen for captive princesses all over the realm.

Perhaps this book would give him better insight as to what happened to these great beasts. If this was truly a history, and not a glorified folktale anthology, sooner or later, he’d get to the part where these mythological “dragons” started looking like humans.

He closed the book and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if Dragon Wufei was still outside his study window or if they rotated and someone else would have that area today. He hadn’t bothered to check since their last interaction, and there was a little time left before they brought him his midday meal, so he thought he’d look and see what Wufei thought of him in men’s clothes. Better yet – there might be a different “dragon” altogether. One who wouldn’t mind talking to him and perhaps give him insight as to how one might be able to liberate themselves…

He padded over to the window in the den and opened it. It wasn’t very big, but he could probably squeeze through it, were it not for the bands around his ankles. Peering out into the hallway, he frowned. That… was a different hall. It appeared to be a different section of the castle entirely!

He stuck his head out a bit and looked around, “Hello?” he called out. If this was an unguarded section of the castle, Quatre was definitely keeping the window open to this spot. All that he’d need to do then was figure out how to get the damned silver bands off him.

He heard noise coming from the garden room and moved toward it. He smiled a little when he saw Trowa standing there with his mid-day tray, placing it on the table where Quatre had been taking his meals.

“Hello,” Quatre called out, walking toward him, barefoot. He liked the feel of grass blades under his feet. “Thank you for the book. It’s been an interesting read so far. I’m making good progress, but so far, it reads like mythology.” He saw Trowa stiffen at that.  Interesting.

“So says the princess who claims to be a prince,” he said, green eyes glittering. How was that possible? Then again… in the last week, he’d been hexed with some odd glamour, making everyone think he was female, seen a witch disappear in a column of flames in his father’s study, AND he was held prisoner by invisible chains that prevented him from leaving the three rooms he presently occupied. Why shouldn’t he believe dragons were real? Magic clearly existed. Just because he didn’t understand it and just because he’d never been this exposed to it before did not make it any less real. This week alone, he’d been subjected to more of it than he had in his whole life! As a matter of fact, he had just been peering out an enchanted window. If magic was real, surely magical beasts were too.

“Good point,” Quatre said. “I suppose I’m a bit disillusioned. I was threatened with having dragons as my prison guards… I had expected literal ones.”

“Who said you didn’t get them?” Trowa asked cryptically.

“I’ll believe you when you believe me,” Quatre said, crossing his arms. He had NO idea what he looked like to the tall man, but all the response he got from him for that was a raised eyebrow and a retreating back.

Maybe he SHOULD have accepted a handmaid.

“Hey!” he called after the man, hurrying to the archway, sticking his head out, trying to catch him before he was too far gone. “Bring me a weapon next time! I’m bored!”

The retreating back didn’t stop, but he did get a wave. He’d been heard, at least.

He went back to his meal and began to eat. He read a little more that afternoon, then went back to examining the bands around his feet. Water did nothing to them, and neither did a knife. Was he missing something?

Quatre went back to check on his window, and looking around, there was still no one there. Perfect.

“Obnoxious, upstart, INDECENT little princess!” Wufei grunted, standing his post at the corner of two hallways, watching the South walkway (where Lady Nadia’s window sometimes looked out).

On the other corner, eyes looking down the West corridor and never looking at the other dragon, but their shoulders near-brushing as they stood doing their separate jobs, Trowa shrugged, “I find Quatre… Interesting.”

Wufei sputtered at that, and went on and ON about her oh-so-frustrating ‘indecency’ but Trowa was already tuning him out a little as he considered the newest captive…

She really WAS quite different from the other Princesses. Her manners, and her mannerisms, spoke of a different type of person all together. And, the fact that Quatre was quite a bit older than when most princess were brought to be protected by Dragons was something odd in and of itself.

Trowa tuned back in when Wufei snarled, “And she wanted me to give her a sword!”

“I’m going to get a staff for Quatre.” Trowa said, suddenly, cutting Wufei off and leaving the other Dragon QUIET (for the first time in a while).

“Are you cr—“

“It’ll help Quatre burn off some energy, at the very least. What is the harm in a staff?” Trowa said instead. “Perhaps it’s not as… domestic… as needlepoint, but, the entire castle usually changes to their tastes so what if this captive doesn’t like needlework? Quatre asked for a weapon, and I can’t do that… but, a staff should do…” Trowa said, his quiet voice an even lower hum as he confided in his friend.

Wufei’s face pinched together as he thought about what to say… and then, he changed the topic somewhat when he said, “You haven’t called her a HER.”

“Pardon?” Trowa said.

“You! This whole conversation, you have been dancing around the fact that this PRINCESS is CRAZY and thinks that SHE is a he.” Wufei pointed out.

Trowa was quiet for a moment and then he shrugged, “Frankly, Wufei…. I have seen so many impossible things with my very eyes that I do not see why I would not believe someone who argues so vehemently.  But, even if it’s a lie, what is the harm? I got Quatre breeches—and Quatre stopped walking around naked. I started calling Quatre by name, instead of using a feminine pronoun and then Quatre became much easier to speak to; much easier to patrol and to work with. And Quatre talks to me, even though I know that I should not expect any of our Protected to speak to a mere Dragon. I don’t see the harm in finding a way around saying one gender or the other, especially since it seems to be important to Quatre.” Trowa let it drop off like that and continued to look down the hallway (seeing a handkerchief be hung over the window as one of the girls worked on some other stupid flower pattern)

“….I think that’s the most I’ve EVER heard you speak at once.” Wufei finally replied… and laughed a little as he did.

Trowa found himself smirking at that—yes, it probably WAS…. But, it was a small price to pay, he thought, to make the short-blonde haired Protected feel a bit happier in their new home.

Realizing that Trowa had filled his word quota for the week, Wufei let out a sigh… and then said, “Well, I might not agree with you, I suppose that all there is left to do is see what kind of consequences come of this… But-“  Wufei broke the rules…and turned back, looking at Trowa instead of down his assigned hall, and then said, “I will not tell our leader if a staff happens to show up in Quatre’s room.”

Trowa’s face broke into a SMILE at that, and he nodded (keeping his eyes on his side, though…  He broke enough rules that he didn’t want to risk it on the silly ones!) and then Wufei turned back to his hallway and walked away from the corner to do another circuit of his area, checking in on Nadia and the rest.

That evening, when Trowa was finished his watch for the day, he slipped out of the walls of the castle, and found a strong, thin tree…. Breaking down the section that he would need…. And he began to whittle it down…. Slowly carving what would be needed, smoothing the wooden surface with work and care…. And adding a few simple flourishes of the Dragon’s symbols as he worked.  It took days. Many days, actually, working by the fire as he rotated onto outer-wall watch for the week. But, by the time he was rotated back to inside the castle, the staff was complete.

Quatre had begun making markings on the wall, to count down the days. That morning, he got up, padded to the wash bin to splash water on his face, and then went to the garden, where his tally was kept. Breakfast was already waiting for him. Grabbing a piece of toast to munch on, he padded over to his tally and with his knife, he added another scratch mark into the stone. Ten days were gone, and he was nowhere near freeing himself.

He’d almost finished the book that Trowa had given him, and he was very interested to find out that somewhere down the line, what few dragons were left began, as a way to survive, to transform themselves into human-like beings. The males took female humans as wives, or concubines, and the offspring became fey – and in some cases, powerful fire witches and wizards. The female dragons mated with human males indiscriminately and hatched human-shaped dragons. Both male AND female, all warm-blooded.

Quatre learned that it was from this line that the Dragon Guard came to be.

Powerful kings and rulers who had wanted the power of dragons, but could not capture (much less control) the reptilian version began to hunt down the humanoid ones. The females proved to be too destructive and uncontrollable, so they would be useless as guards. The males, however, once captured and chained, proved to be very obedient.

They were far from being naturally “loyal”, they were captives after all, but the iron bands they wore around their necks made them unlikely to fight back.

After generations of Dragon Guard, the kingdoms that utilized the Dragon Guard developed patterns and systems… some worked well, most did not. Where they did not, castles were burned to the ground.

In THIS kingdom, known dragon females were given nice houses and small plots of land to do with as they pleased. They were often regarded as witches and most small folk wanted little to do with them, so having king-appointed lands benefitted them greatly. They had to agree to the condition that they were to give up any male child they gave birth to at the age of 12 if the boy showed any signs of Dragon blood. Of course, they were also given gold for every boy they gave up. The girls, they were allowed to keep… and those girls were also watched. They would be given the same deal when they reached maturity. There had never been a female dragon that turned down the deal; dragons could never turn down treasure. Especially the females.

Quatre was thinking about how the Dragon Guard came to be as he finished his breakfast and walked into the library that was looking more like a den these days. There were fewer books and more objects for him to study and tinker with. He’d left the book on the writing desk the night before and had been intent on finding out more about the male dragons and the tools of their imprisonment when he spied the staff… with dragon markings all over it.

Quatre couldn’t help the bright smile that broke forth. He hurried to it, picked it up, and tossed it from hand to hand. Reading would have to wait. He took the staff to the garden, moved his table and chair closer to the wall to give himself space, and began to go through morning katas with his staff. He would usually do his morning exercises around mid-morning at home, but he was used to doing it with a weapon. Now he had a staff, making him feel MUCH more at home. Going through the motions without a weapon in his hands during his stay was making him very frustrated.

The staff kept him busy most of the morning, and by the time he’d burned much of his energy, the mid-day meal was brought to him.

Today, his guard was Wufei. “Good afternoon,” Quatre smiled, seeing the dragon come in with his meal.

“Hello, Protected,” Wufei said.

Quatre blinked. That was different, “Protected?” he asked.

“You do not want to be addressed as ‘princess’ and I cannot bring myself to call you ‘prince’ … ‘Protected’ is what you are and is gender neutral. Is that acceptable?” Wufei asked, putting Trowa’s theory from days ago to the test.

Quatre nodded, staff still in hand, coming closer. “May I ask you something?” he asked, reaching onto the tray and popping some green grapes in his mouth.

Wufei had been about to take his leave, but paused when Quatre spoke to him. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I see you sometimes, through the window. Your fighting style, or rather your evening practice, looks different than anything I’ve ever seen. I know you won’t spar against me, but would you show me?”

Wufei looked VERY surprised, but looked away. “We are not allowed to be in your presence more than five minutes. I must go.”

Quatre smiled, “That wasn’t a no.”

Wufei grunted and left. Feeling much happier, Quatre sat down to his meal, studying the markings on his staff. Afterwards, he bathed and was on his way to retrieve his book when he noticed a new window had appeared in the garden. A much bigger one. It was almost a door, really, and twice as wide.

Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it, surprised to find Trowa sitting on the other side of it, honing his sword.

He was about to say something when Trowa looked up, in the opposite direction from where Quatre stood and ran, sword at the ready. Quatre couldn’t see anything, but he heard the sounds of a scuffle and steel meeting steel. It went on for five tense minutes and then it was quiet.

Behind him, he heard footsteps. Hurried footsteps. Someone was running. He stepped away from the window, which had opened opposite the archway to the hall where the dragons came to see to him, and moved toward that archway, picking up the staff on his way.

He was almost there when a man he’d never seen ran past him, then stopped and back peddled. He was panting, and dirty, and he looked like he’d been in a fight. His sword was still drawn, but there was no blood on it, thankfully.

“I’m looking for Princess Quatre” the man said, looking over Quatre, frowning at Quatre’s choice of wardrobe. “Are you her guardian?” he asked, clearly confused by what he saw. Princesses did not wear breeches.

“I am Quatre,” he ground out, hand tight on the staff. “What do you want?”

“I – I” he stuttered, taking a step back. He was caught off guard. “I am Prince Hansel. Second Prince of –“

“I don’t care,” Quatre said, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to rescue you, to make you my bride,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

“I’m not interested. Go away,” Quatre told him.

“But my princess!” he placated, coming into Quatre’s garden, “Surely, you jest! Come, I’ll take you away and you’ll be free,” he added, turning up the charm. But Quatre wasn’t having it.

Quatre used his staff to hit him in the shoulder, then swiped at his feet, knocking him onto his butt. He moved quickly and pressed the end of his staff against the man’s chest, knocking him all the way to the floor, making his head hit the grass. Had it been stone, he probably would have cracked his head.

“I am NOT your ANYTHING, let alone your princess,” he seethed. “Marrying you or anyone LIKE you is the last thing that’ll ever happen. In fact, I’m much more likely to gut you than kiss you.”

“B-but I beat the dragon!”

Quatre kicked the man’s sword out of his hand, “I am not a dragon, and I don’t have to let you pass,” he growled. “Since you allegedly DID beat a dragon, you have two options – you can walk out of here empty handed, or you can go rescue my sister,” he told him backing off a bit. He reached down to grab the sword and did NOT give it back. “She is down that hall, down a flight of stairs, and in the hallway to the right. She’ll make a wonderful wife; now go before you piss me off and I run you through,” he threatened.

The man quickly scrambled back and got through the archway, “Y-You’re c-crazy!” he accused, eyes wide.

“So they tell me,” Quatre agreed, but didn’t lower the sword. “Thank you for the gift,” he smirked, then watched with great pleasure as the man scrambled down the hall.

He turned away from the archway, ready to go back and examine his new window when he stopped in his tracks. Both Wufei AND Trowa were standing there, staring at him. Trowa was holding his side, Wufei looked disheveled – like he’d been interrupted when putting on his uniform. Quatre had noticed from spying on the guards that they didn’t often come in full armor when bringing him his meals. Wufei must have just been preparing to start his shift.

“You don’t fight like a woman…” Wufei conceded, “… but I still think you’re crazy.”

Quatre nodded, “Noted.” He had a death grip on the sword he’d just taken, “I’m not giving this back,” he said. “I won’t use it against any of you while I’m held in this room, but I’m not giving it back. I need it for when I escape.”

Wufei looked at Trowa, “I’m not taking it from him. Will you?”

Trowa shook his head. Frankly, he would have given Quatre a sword himself if he was within rules to.

“In fact,” Wufei continued, crossing his arms and walking away, “I don’t think I even saw anything. I need to finish getting ready for my shift.”

“Are you okay?” Quatre asked Trowa, looking a bit concerned.

Wufei, just out of sight, paused. NONE of the Protected had ever enquired as to their well-being… especially after an attack. All any of them had wanted to know was if the rescuer had been hurt and which princess was rescued. No one ever asked if the dragons were injured. Curious.

Trowa straightened and showed him where a sword had cut the buckle off his armor. He was holding his armor in place and not really nursing an injury.

But it was hard to hide the faint color that came to Trowa’s cheeks when Quatre bothered to enquire about his health. It was… nice.  But, he worried that if others saw the way Quatre treated him, that Trowa would be moved out of this castle and away from his favorite Protected.

“This window shouldn’t be here…” Trowa noted, trying to change the subject. “You should probably close it for now.” He looked to where Wufei had gone and shifted in that direction, “Wufei and I need to make a report. We have to hurry so that he isn’t late for his shift.”

It was late in the evening, well past dinner, and Quatre found himself sitting in the garden, surrounded by books. In front of him was the book that Trowa had brought him, opened to a lithograph of a reptilian dragon on one side, and a band with etchings on the other. To Quatre’s left, was another book. A reference of different kinds of runes, including dragon, fey, and Wiccan cross-references. To his left, he had a book on basic elemental and mineral magic, opened up to a section that described the properties of different metals. These two books had appeared on the shelf shortly after dinner as he was perusing the titles using his staff as a pointing implement. They were high up on the shelves, forcing him to have to climb on furniture to get to them. It seemed like the room was finally starting to give in to Quatre’s pursuit of knowledge of the magical arts.

It was late. Very late. Candles had started to appear around him of their own accord to aid in his night time reading. He had the staff on his lap and, after rubbing his eyes for a moment, he remembered that the carvings on it looked like writing. He tried to examine the markings, but it was too dark and the flickering lights of the candles threw odd shadows onto the carved wood. He’d have to examine them in the daylight.

Yawning widely, he looked up at the window in front of him. It had been opened to reveal a beautiful night sky with the light of the thin moon too insufficient to light the room. Using his staff as an extension, he closed the shutters on the window and was about to get up, but something made him pause. Following his impulse, he used the staff to open the window again… and this time, the window opened up to a very small room… it had a bookshelf and a bed and little else. Craning his neck, Quatre noted a door to the right and a small window to the left. He was just about to close the portal when the door opened.

He froze mid movement and looked up at the man that came into view. He was still sitting on the floor, making the dragon look that much taller. He was wearing soft shoes and loose pants. His torso was covered by a light tunic and his hair was still damp, but there was no mistaking Dragon Trowa.

“How are you doing this?” he whispered, sitting on the small cot opposite Quatre.

“… I don’t know,” Quatre admitted. “This portal appeared this afternoon… every time I open the shutter, it feels like a lottery. I never know where the portals will open. A-are you allowed to talk to me?” he asked, trying not to show how lonely he was starting to feel.

Trowa nodded, using the end of the towel draped over his shoulder to dry his hair.

“Are you a prisoner too?” Quatre asked, watching him. It was dark in that small room, the only light in there was really coming from Quatre’s candles.

There was no verbal answer, but Trowa’s hand pulled the towel off of his shoulders and the tunic moved just enough that Quatre was able to see a thin band of black around the tall Dragon’s neck. That was a yes.

“You can’t leave this place either then,” Quatre surmised.

“No.”

“Will you ever?”

“We are given our leave when we are older… most choose to stay and train others because that is all that we’ve ever known.”

“Thank you for my staff,” Quatre smiled, changing the subject. “And the clothes.”

“How do you know I did any of that?” came the quiet, but amused reply.

“Because I just know,” Quatre smiled.

They were both quiet for a moment. Trowa looked a little uncomfortable, and Quatre was sure that it was because he’d never had a visitor like this in his own room – where he didn’t have to be a servant. There were probably a half dozen rules that they were breaking right then, but Quatre wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have control over where the portals opened. And if he did, he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Can you help me get out?” Quatre suddenly asked, bright blue eyes looking up at Trowa.

Trowa, for his part, shook his head. Bright green eyes glittering in the darkness. “You had a chance to escape today,” he reminded him.

“I had the chance to become someone’s prize today,” Quatre countered. “I will not be any man’s bride. I am a PRINCE. He was looking for a princess.”

“You could have beat him once you were free,” Trowa offered, but Quatre gave him a scalding look. “You would have been honor bound… or possibly magic-bound to wed him wouldn’t you have?”

Quatre nodded. “This is a rouse to keep me from my rightful place,” he said, his hands wringing the staff in his hands. “Mine uncle learned some truths about me that I’d rather keep to myself and, no doubt, found this to be a fitting predicament for me,” Quatre said, divulging personal information, in hopes of reciprocation.

“Like what?” Trowa asked, against his better judgment.

“I can’t share that, I’m afraid. You’d think I deserved to be hexed.” Quatre sighed loudly, and flopped back onto the grass. “And while that may be, putting me in here was dirty.”

Sitting back up, he looked at Trowa, “Do you have family? Are they allowed to visit?”

Trowa looked away, “I have a sister. I haven’t seen her in… I haven’t seen her in years, but I am allowed to write to her. I miss her.” He gave Quatre a bittersweet smile, “She promises me that she’ll find a way to set me free every time… it hasn’t happened yet.”

Quatre frowned, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

Trowa looked away.

“You can’t talk about it, then. That’s fine. I want to help you, if I can. If I ask you for certain kinds of books… will you be able to bring them to me?” he hedged.

Trowa nodded, but he was sure the man wouldn’t say much more.

“Have you already said too much?” when he received a tiny nod, he sighed a bit. “I’m sorry. I’m pressing you too hard. DO you know how I can free you?” Quatre asked.

Trowa looked up at him then, and gave him a very solemn nod.

“But you can’t say anything…” Quatre finished. “Very well. Do you have any more dragon histories that I may borrow?” he asked, gathering his things, wanting to put his books up before they disappeared in the night. “If you do… or if you have a way of making the library spit them out for me, I’d appreciate it. He gave Trowa a smile before reaching out to close the portal. “I’ll let you get some rest. Goodnight,” he said, and received a nod in return.  Quatre closed the door and went to bed shortly after.

The days came and went and Quatre had read volume upon volume on dragons for a clue on how to free Trowa, and perhaps Wufei.

He had gone through the books he had, and through his notes, but he couldn’t find the loophole! It was more frustrating than he wanted to admit, and in a fit, he grabbed the nearest thing (in this case, a vase) and smashed it against the wall. It was then that he noticed a new Dragon standing in the archway, staring at him.

Granted, there had been several, but most hurried in and hurried out before Quatre had much of a chance to notice that they’d ever been in the room. He knew that there had been several coming and going, but other than Trowa and Wufei, none had stopped long enough for Quatre to address.

“Hello?” He asked cautiously, padding over towards him, “Were you looking for me?” he asked redundantly. Of course he was! Why else would he be there?

“You have a letter,” the man said, glaring at him with cobalt eyes that seemed to glitter, just like Trowa’s and Wufei’s. He held it, but did not seem to want to hand it over. 

Quatre padded up to the archway curiously, “… What is your name?”

“Heero. Why are you getting correspondence from Duo?” he asked, giving the shorter blonde a look that promised death.

Quatre was taken aback. “Duo? How do you know my manservant?”

“Princesses don’t HAVE manservants!” Heero roared. Literally, ROARED. The sound was loud, nearly deafening. It brought Quatre down to a knee, making his head reel.

“You read my mail?” he asked, noting the broken wax seal.

“I am under orders to. Yes,” Dragon Heero looked unapologetic.

“He says he is coming to rescue you. I won’t let him pass. I’ll beat him black and blue before I let you have him,” he threatened. “Duo is MINE!” he roared again. “It is your fault he is in prison, you wretched woman. He will escape. He always escapes, but YOU will not have him!”

And then something happened. Heero LUNGED at him.

Quatre was caught by surprise, but he managed to roll away in order to avoid being tackled. His staff was never far away, and quickly, he reached for it… he hadn’t realized that it was a little bit out of his grasp, but that ended up not mattering. The staff MOVED. Of its own accord – or had Quatre done it? – and suddenly it was in his hand. Quatre whirled around and landed a solid hit on Heero’s shoulder. Heero growled and rolled away only to attack him again. Quatre ducked and hit Heero in the gut with the bottom half of the staff, and a faint light pulsed when he struck. Heero bounded away, this time, he pulled out his short sword and pointed it at Quatre. He was about to attack when two figures came at Heero from opposing sides. One from the archway, the other from the large window portal that Quatre had kept open. They tackled Heero to the ground and dragged him away.

Trowa didn’t hold back in the least when he HAULED Heero out of the garden, and SLAMMED him against the stone walls of the Dragon’s mess hall, letting out a ROAR of fury that shook the candlelit chandeliers and vibrated unattended goblets off the table.  Normally so calm, and serious… Now, Trowa was turning red in the face from rage, and he balled up his fists and got ready to punch Heero again, right in the face.

Wufei, though, grabbed his arms and hauled him further from the errant Dragon, and took over the lecture, “How DARE you attack a Protected!!”

“How dare you attack QUATRE!!!!!!!” Trowa ROARED from behind, magic fueled by unbridled emotion slamming the walls of the hall. He lunged for Heero’s throat again, and the Asian Dragon lunged back against him, using fists and feet to try and land a few more blows onto Trowa—who was raining down attacks right back!

Heero was the first to draw blood, as a button from his coat sliced across Trowa’s cheek—Right under his eye—and the blood began to drip down his face…

Wufei, stepped between Trowa and Heero again, seeing that neither of the two seemed to be thinking this through, and he SHOVED them apart. “STOP IT! BOTH of you! This is NOT our way! We are DRAGONS!” He roared—and Wufei’s growl was louder, and stronger, than either of the younger ones.

Both of them took shaky breathes as they stepped back away from each other and let Wufei distance them.

“It’s HER fault that Duo is in prison! They might execute him for that woman’s trickery!” Heero growled. “Duo’s been keeping HER secret for years! Never even told ME that the Prince was a girl! And how, he’s in prison over this—and yet, YET, Duo is writing HER all about it!” Heero snarled, jealousy seething off of his words.

Trowa snarled, his lip coming up and he unconsciously bared fangs (that Dragon no longer had), and he snapped, “THAT Protected is GOOD to us! Quatre wants to free us, and himself—YES I SAID HIM!—“ Trowa snarled, before Wufei or Heero could say anything, “We’ve all seen enough magic in this place, and Quatre has said since day ONE that he is a boy! That he was turned in order to usurp his throne! And now, you say that Duo has been his servant and never told YOU of the apparent lie? It sounds to me like the words of Quatre’s most trusted say he’s a boy, and I for one, BELIEVE him!”

Wufei looked ANGRY, flushed red…. And then he snapped, “That is AGAINST our RULES! Not another WORD out of you, Trowa! You are OUT of LINE! You are RELIEVED of DUTY for today! GO!”

Trowa was so ANGRY, he didn’t even care! He YANKED at the buckle to his armor, YANKING off the breastplate, and then THREW it to the ground, before he stalked off … back towards his room.

Wufei moved after him, but then stopped when he remembered Heero. Wufei turned around to look at him….

But Heero was gone.

Quatre decided a bath was in order after that little skirmish. He still had no idea what this Heero was angry about, but he did know Duo… and Duo was in trouble. He’d looked for the letter when the dragons left, but he couldn’t find it. He sighed as he sank into the tub a little further, looking up at the ceiling of the bathing room. It was nice… he hadn’t noticed it at first, but it was magicked to look like the sky outside. This room and the garden room, anyway.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat soaking when he heard a faint knock from the direction of the garden room archway. Only two dragons ever made their presence known, so he called out, “Come in. I’m in the bath!”

He was facing away from the door, listening to the boots travel through the garden and through his room stopping just outside the bath.

“Come in,” Quatre prompted. “I won’t get out and embarrass you,” he said, turning … and freezing when he noticed it was Heero standing there. “I hope you don’t plan on attacking me in the bath,” he said, a little leery of having to defend himself like this.

Heero paid him no mind and walked around the bath, a large old scroll in his hand. He didn’t look down at Quatre as he unrolled the scroll and began to read aloud:

“To set foot in Castle Reed, a few rules all knights must heed:

“The dragons that do guard the fair must be beaten in their lair. Because the dragons do not seek to harm, knights need not vanquish but disarm. Six if squire, five if knight, but if Prince, three strikes of might.

“Once the dragons have withdrawn and one’s quarry is in arm, the hero may the castle flee with his prize or enlistee. Every dragon shall let him pass lest a dragon he harass.”

Heero then looked up at him, “Those are the rules that all men must adhere to when trying to rescue a protected,” he said. “There are more rules that Dragons must follow,” he told him before continuing his reading:

“Dragon Guards must always serve and guard the Protected.

Dragon Guards will only engage in battle if their sector is breached or if challenged.

Dragon Guards must not interfere or interact with Protected unless they are specifically asked or acknowledged.

Dragon Guards must not be in a Protected’s presence for more than five minutes at a time.

Dragon Guards must not assist in the escape of a Protected.

Dragon Guards will be bound by the castle’s charms.

Dragon Guards must never attack a Protected nor their champion.

Dragon Guards will be subject to the orders of the Grand Dragon Master unless otherwise bound.”

Trowa was in his room only long enough to grab an apple before he slipped out the window of his room, and made his way through the maze that was the rooftop of Castle Reed to a quiet place near the outer edge.

He sat down atop the battlement, letting his feet dangle over the ground a hundred or so feet below. He had never been afraid of heights, and even as an adult now, he found it somewhat comforting to be up high where few else chose to be. 

He bit into his apple… and looked out at the cloudy sky on the horizon… Trying to figure out just why his heart felt like it was in such turmoil right then.

He was still angry at Heero for attacking Quatre like that. It had been uncalled for. And against their rules… but Wufei had been right in dismissing him, because Trowa’s reaction had been far more than it ought to have been. Trowa was furious at the blue-eyed Dragon… and he felt bitter… and JEALOUS even at the mention of Quatre knowing Duo (as if the very idea of Quatre having friends outside of the castle irked Trowa to the core, even though he knew in his head that it ought not to!). 

He was worried about himself. About how far his simple favoritism had gone… 

He didn’t recall the exact moment that his interest had crossed the line, but he knew now without a doubt that it HAD.

Trowa needed to stop this….  Or else, his own heart just might not survive the next time a prince came to steal away Quatre, and succeeded.

Because, Trowa was no fool.

There was no way that a Dragon could EVER be something special to a Prince.

And to think, even for a moment, that things might be any different was just asking for heartache.

~~~

As soon as Heero had left, Quatre had scrambled out of the bath and into the library to write as much of that down as he remembered.

~ Ten Years Ago ~

“NO! You can’t take him!” the tiny boy screamed, trying to claw and bite and kick at the tall, strong men covered in armor. “LET HIM GO!” he shrieked, but it was no use.

Not too far from him, struggling against iron chains was another young boy, this one with short, messy, dark brown hair and eyes that glittered like sapphires in the filtered light of the day. If looks could kill, the whole host of guards would have been incinerated by then. It had been threatening to storm for days now, and the clouds looked even more ominous in light of the day’s activities.

They were just outside the ruins of Helena’s house for boys; it had burned down a year ago, after catching fire during a thunderstorm, something that many survivors feared would happen again to what remained. A few street urchins peeked out from the rubble, but no one made a move to help. In the courtyard of what had once been a large estate-turned-boys home stood half a dozen guards, squaring off against two very feisty boys. Two held back a boy with hair longer than would be seen on most girls. It was poorly kept and looked more like a rat’s nest than hair, but the child fought with a desperation that they were having a hard time keeping him in check. On the other side of the courtyard, a second boy was being herded into a wagon with the Dragon Guard’s crest painted onto the side of it.

The boy in chains, Heero, struggled, but he was no match for the man that easily picked him up by wrapping an arm around a slender, malnourished waist. He was hefted into the wagon and his chains were secured to a bolt inside to ensure he did not run off.

“We have been looking for him for a while - this boy has a job to do,” another man said as he avoided yet another kick to the shin. “You may write to him, if you ever learn how. He will be stationed at Reed Castle, now run along before you do something stupid and get yourself killed.”

That boy was then picked up, backhanded and thrown into a pile of straw.

“DUO!” the boy from the carriage called, feebly pulling on his chains, but the carriage was already pulling away.

“HEERO! I will write! I will learn to write!” Duo promised, getting up and giving chase, but the carriage was quickly out of reach and the small boy named Duo was left with nothing but a throbbing cheek to remember his friend by.

~ A few months later ~

There was a knock at the door and Quatre looked up from where he was sitting with his father, being berated, once again, for giving his tutors a hard time before throwing a tantrum and breaking dishes. These tantrums were coming on more and more frequently, and one of Omar’s advisors suggested that Quatre just needed to be around someone nearer his age. The last of his sisters, the twins, each turning 13, were whisked away to their castle tower with their handmaidens. They’d been introduced to the kingdom, and had been the stars of the banquet, and then mere days later, they were gone and Quatre was alone.

It almost seemed an act of desperation, but guards were sent into the streets, looking for a boy near Quatre’s age, preferably an orphan. The only problem was, with Helena’s having been burned down and never rebuilt, it was difficult to CATCH such a brat… until one of the maids tipped one of the guardsman off that a certain little urchin had taken to trying to break in within the last few months.

So a trap was set and a boy was caught, and before anyone had a chance to clean him up, the boy was taken up to be presented before the King and the errant Prince Quatre.

“Ah, Abdul, come in,” King Omar said, standing.

Abdul did, dragging a child with a long mess of matted brown hair in by the arm. The child had been fighting him off, or trying to, but he was so undernourished and scraggly that he wasn’t having much luck.

“… Are you sure this is a boy?” Omar asked Abdul.

“’Course I’m a boy!” the owner of the rat’s nest protested indignantly.

“And what is your name?” Omar asked.

“Duo,” he said, picking his nose.

“Duo. How would you like to sleep indoors and have three meals a day?” Omar asked, eyeing the boy.

The boy looked at him skeptically, “What do I gotta do? I’m not doing anything dirty with anyone, even if they ARE nobles! I ain’t like Mary and them. I ain’t working for no brothel, even if you ARE the king!” he mouthed off.

Abdul looked uncomfortable, but not QUITE as uncomfortable as King Omar.

“Watch your mouth,” Abdul said, shaking the boy. “If you want to live in the palace walls and get fed every day, all you have to do is take the switch when Prince Quatre misbehaves.”

“WHAT?!” Quatre yelped, “No! That’s not fair!”

“And you will start now,” Abdul told him. He wasn’t going to let the boy, Duo, have much of a say, but the boy wiggled out of his grasp and stayed out of reach. 

“Is that it? You’re just going to hit me with a switch a bit and that’s it? I guess I’m not supposed to run away neither, huh? You’ll feed me and give me a place to sleep for that? Do I get my own bed? Wait… how often does he get in trouble?” Duo asked, looking suspicious.

“Hopefully less now that you’ll be receiving punishment for him, and HE will be the one to administer it…” King Omar said.

The small prince’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as Abdul put the switch in his hand. Duo, however, smirked, “HE is going to hit me? DONE!” he laughed before assuming the position.

For Prince Quatre, it was the WORST feeling in the world to punish someone else for something HE had done wrong. Duo had received fifteen lashes to the backside by Quatre’s hand. At the end of it, it was Quatre with tears rolling down his cheeks, and not Duo.

Quatre received one more chastisement before both boys were taken away.

It didn’t take very long for Duo to became Quatre’s one and only friend.  Quatre’s behavior improved and there were fewer incidents. Duo didn’t run away and in return, he was fed and given an education – what he’d wanted all along, at least, what he’d wanted since they’d taken Heero. If someone had told him that all he’d had to do to learn how to write was to get a few light beatings a month, he would have signed up for this the day they’d taken Heero away!

Quatre eventually learned why Duo had been so eager to become his whipping boy, and for a while, he harbored a little resentment. Duo being who was, however, managed to win Quatre over and they both became steadfast friends. Knowing that Quatre would became jealous that Duo had other friends, Duo managed to mostly hide the correspondence that went back and forth between he and Heero. When questioned, Duo only said that his friend was someone whom he had been raised with before the orphanage burned down and that had been taken away for work. That effectively quelled much of Quatre’s jealousy. Much like he and his sisters, Duo also had someone close to him that was taken away.

~ Ten Years later ~

 Duo’s world came crashing down around his ears. He was SO close to figuring out where the fabled Reed Castle was when Omar died. None of the enchanted castles were ever on any map. It was said that they moved of their own accord, but Duo thought that it was more likely that they’d been enchanted so that people who visited would forget the exact location later. He’d been learning about magic on his own while Quatre was busy with his own royal duties, and, not being on the same level as other servants, Duo found himself with plenty of time to do his own research.

He’d taken to the study of magic, on his own, in his never-ending quest to find Heero. He’d become quite adept at it, but he kept his study, his skill, and his interest of the subject to himself. Omar was very against the magical arts and if he’d known Duo had taken it upon himself to study such a subject, he was sure that Omar would put an end to it, one way or another. By keeping his interest, and his natural affinity for it, a secret – even (mostly) from Quatre – he was able to keep the access he had into the darkest, most restricted recesses of the massive Winner library.

And though he’d worked hard, Omar’s death proved to be a hurdle that he’d been ill-prepared to cross. Within days of Omar’s passing, Quatre was imprisoned in his own room and Duo, seemingly the ONLY person who hadn’t gone mad, was taken to the dungeons.

Shortly after, Duo watched from the tiny window in his cell as Quatre was being escorted into a carriage baring the mark of the Dragon Guard, to be kept in a tower … just like all his sisters. Just like Heero had.

Why did everyone think that Prince Quatre was female? What had happened? Sure, they’d dressed him up in some dark frock and veil, befitting a lady in mourning, but surely no one believed the lie! Duo, who had shared a bath with him as a matter of routine when they were little could very well attest to the fact that Quatre was as much a boy as he was! All they had to do was look under his skirt! Surely it wasn’t that difficult!

He’d even said as much. Screamed it, actually… and that, apparently, was why he was being silenced by being locked in a tiny cell.

It could be worse, he supposed. At least he’d been locked up in one of the nicer cells. As a child, he had a knack for getting into and out of things, places, storerooms, and the like. Getting out of this cell seemed like a piece of cake! He hadn’t known it as a child, but there had been more to that talent than he’d initially known. As time went on and he’d immersed himself in magical tomes, he’d begun having dreams and those dreams became his guidance. He had an affinity for magic, but having never met his parents, he could only guess at where his talents may lie. What his dreams did tell him was that he was a natural mage, he had always and would always be one, and as such, he had and would draw magic to him.

And after sitting in his cell for a day – waiting for the right time to make an escape, something told him to keep put and his mouth shut, they’d soon forget about him… but his being there, his mere presence would have a bigger impact, even if it felt like he was simply wasting away in a cell.  

A red woman came to him in his dreams and all she told him was that he ought to be meditating, reading, and above all, have patience. It was going to be his job to lead Quatre back from wherever they’d taken him.

He found out that he was meant to be executed, if the rumor that Amir had threatened it could be believed, but there was another rumor – a very interesting one. One where a red witch was impeding Amir from doing anything irreparable for 30 days. Why 30 days? Duo had no clue, but he was grateful to whomever this red witch was; she seemed to be on Quatre’s side, even though he had a feeling that she was also the root of this whole ordeal.

Days into his imprisonment, a guard, not a jailor, came to him with a small trunk. The guard didn’t know where it came from or who had sent it – he was just told to deliver it. Inside, Duo found what he needed to survive his capture (and boredom); some books, paper, quills, and permission to send out a letter.

Though permission was granted, he was only allowed to send the one. It was the toughest decision for him to make – whether to send Heero or Quatre a letter. He weighed his options and decided that if Heero could have come back, he would have by then, and if anyone deserved to know what was going on in the castle, it was Quatre, as the rightful king.  

Quatre paced as he waited for Heero to arrive with his dinner. He was all warmed up, dressed in clean breeches and a tunic, knife at this belt, sword on his hip, and staff in hand. He had boots waiting for him by the archway, ready to go, right next to a large leather bag that he’d packed a few things into.

When Heero came in, Quatre noted that he wasn’t wearing full armor, just breeches, a tunic and the padded jerkin. He didn’t even carry a weapon. This was going to be too easy, but he supposed that was the point.

Quatre waited for Heero to put down the tray then spoke up, “Dragon, I challenge you.”

Heero’s back stiffened and the air around them crackled. When Heero looked back at him, his blue eyes were glowing.

“Ryokai” was all he said as he lowered himself into a crouch, then lunged at Quatre.

Quatre managed to roll away from Heero’s attack, tripping him in the process. He whirled around and smacked Heero’s shoulder with his staff, making the area glow gold for a moment.

In the Dragon hall, the crystal pulsed gold just as Wufei was coming in to have his dinner before taking on his shift.

“Someone is fighting a prince,” one of the older Dragons said to another. “Two gold in as many days. How odd.” The older dragon was not on duty, and being the first to notice the battle, it became his responsibility to witness the crystal’s verdict. Hearing that made Wufei pause – it wasn’t unusual for a knight or squire to try their hand at rescuing a princess. The hall’s crystal often glowed red or orange; those were hardly anything to bat an eyelash over. But a prince? Surely Heero wasn’t attacking Quatre again!

Wufei forgot all about his dinner at that point and hurried to Quatre’s wing of the castle before Heero did something monumentally STUPID.

“You have to help Duo,” Quatre was saying as he and Heero circled each other. “He’s my best friend and-“

“He’s MY best friend!” Heero growled, lunging at Quatre again, giving Quatre the perfect opening to score another hit by striking Heero in the stomach. Heero made an “OOF!” sound and backed up a step, “You think you can tell me what to do just because you’re a Royal pain in the ass?! FUCK YOU.”

Quatre took that moment to go on the offense and landed another blow by feigning to go for his shoulder, instead going for his leg. That was the third strike and Heero, now covered in a golden glow was forced to take a knee and bow his head. He appeared paralyzed.

“I can tell you what to do because you now belong to me,” Quatre said, reaching to the iron collar that Heero wore. When he touched it, the writing on the iron band glowed gold for a moment then disappeared only to be replaced by Quatre’s name and sigil. “Find Duo. Help him. He’s my best friend and I can’t lose him like this. GO!” he commanded.

Heero didn’t even hesitate. He was on his feet in an instant and running down the hall the next.

Satisfied, Quatre put on his boots and packed up as much of his dinner that could travel as he could. The rest, he hungrily ate up on the spot. Hefting his bag over his shoulder he walked toward the archway, intent on leaving Castle Reed for good, only to crash against an invisible wall when he attempted to cross the threshold.

Falling back on his ass, he glared at the offending archway. “WHAT the HELL?!” he bellowed, scrambling to his feet, and throwing the nearest thing to him through the archway. In this case, it was his travel bag. It went right on through.

“But I beat a dragon!” he yelled at no one in particular.

Quatre didn't expect a reply, but he got one anyway. Wufei had skidded to a halt just outside of Quatre's door, and nearly got beaned by the traveling bag. He was panting in his effort to get there on time... but when he saw the fight was over, and Quatre was still there, he let himself relax.

"That isn't how a Princess is rescued from Castle Reed, Quatre" Wufei spoke up standing just outside the barrier to the hallway. He was very purposefully standing OUT of Quatre’s reach. Wufei looked around the garden area... looking for his friend.

"...What did you do to Heero?” Wufei asked suspiciously. “Where is he?" he demanded, when it was evident that Heero wasn’t anywhere nearby.

"I beat him, and made him mine. I sent him to go and help Duo who is a friend to both of us. Heero wanted to be freed."

Wufei snarled a little...his face flushing hotly, "He is not FREE, he is YOURS! And you took him away from everything that he knows! Who do you think you ARE?! This is our home! Maybe Heero wanted to leave, but do NOT fool yourself into thinking that the rest of us are eager to go."

Quatre was VIBRATING in anger and frustration. “I know EXACTLY what I did to him. I will free him when he’s rescued Duo. I am SICK of all of you belittling me and my abilities and my STATUS.” He shook a little as he glared towards Wufei, "And you are Prisoners here, just as I am! Why would you want to stay?!"

Wufei straightened as he snipped back, "I may not agree with what has happened to you, and I may not agree with how this new KING" he spat out the word with disrespect, "is using our traditions, but this is our HOME and all that we know! Perhaps you should ask TROWA what he feels before you take all of us from everything that we've ever known just to support your selfish attempts to get walked out of your room!"

Quatre’s head snapped up, “Is that all it takes?” he asked, the shock of how EASY that was rooting him to the spot. He grabbed his staff and pointed it at Wufei, “Fight me, Dragon. I challenge you.”

Wufei backed away a step, “How dare you?” he asked incredulously. “Did you hear nothing?!” he asked, his voice cracking, but his feet guided him through the threshold.

“I heard plenty,” Quatre said, giving him a mighty thwack in the thigh as soon as he came in, the site glowing gold. “I heard you call me a princess. I heard you call me selfish. I heard you berate me for trying to save my one and only friend. I heard you talk down to me. I heard you call me indecent - ” Quatre’s statements were punctuated by a volley of assaults. Most of which, Wufei was able to deflect.

“I am SICK of you, and your rules!” He bellowed, clapping Wufei on the shoulder. That would likely bruise, but he didn’t care.

“I have lost enough time here thanks to you! I. AM. YOUR. KING!” he roared, wielding his staff like a bat and catching Wufei in the stomach, effectively winding him.

Wufei’s body glowed gold, freezing him where he’d doubled over. Quatre was in a blind rage by then. He reached out to Wufei’s collar, but instead of changing writing, the iron crumbled under his hand.

“Walk me out of here,” Quatre commanded, but Wufei only backed away, giving him a cold look.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“I have freed you,” Quatre said, and his heart sank. If Wufei was free… he was under no obligation to obey. Quatre might have been the rightful king, but he was still a prisoner and Wufei was still a dragon. He followed the rules because he wanted to, not because he was obligated.

“I will not return the favor,” Wufei said. He looked like he could murder Quatre at that moment, but instead, he turned and left. If he was ‘free’ … would he still be allowed to be a dragon guard?

Quatre watched Wufei leave and sank to his knees. Wufei would likely ensure that no other dragon came his way.

Trowa had no idea of the trouble around the castle when he decided to return to the Dragon's Hall. He planned to find Wufei, and apologize for fighting with Heero, in hopes that Wufei would let him go back to work again. He missed seeing Quatre, and the only way that he could was if he was working.

He walked into the hall... but was shocked, and confused, when he saw the sheet chaos and panic spreading through the ranks. He had no idea what had gone on... but he caught on quickly that Heero was gone... and that something had happened to Wufei---

Trowa pushed through the crowd of older Dragons who were talking to Wufei, and as soon as the Chinese Dragon caught sight of Trowa, he leveled him with a GLARE and he ROARED, "YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO SEE QUATRE AGAIN!"

Trowa felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, and he froze in his spot, looking confused...

"None of us will be after this!" An older Dragon said, and turned to his companions, "That Protected is a menace! Attacking Dragons and sending them away...."

"He would never hurt me!" Trowa finally spoke up... (people looking at him when the normally silent Dragon raised his voice to be heard), "He needs a Dragon to watch over him! If you are all unwilling, than I will take care of him!"

Whispers broke out around the hall, and some of the dragons hushed to each other as they watched Trowa with a mix of confusion.... and WORRY.

But Wufei knew. He knew far more than the other Dragons in the room, and he pinned Trowa with an intense glare as he repeated, "I gave you the order, and you have just proven why you need it. YOU will NOT see that Prince again! He has attacked me and taken Heero into servitude! I have no idea what he will do to you, but he knows that he needs to be escorted out now" -A collected growl of anger and gasps of surprise came at THAT revelation- "But our duty remains! We need to uphold our jobs!"

Trowa practically SHOOK at that.... and his eyes flashed... "Our JOBS are to protect Princesses from harm!" He ROARED, "NOT to be PRISON GUARDS! We are WRONG! And THIS?? What happened to Quatre? THIS is UNJUST and WRONG!" His voices reverberated around the walls of the hall.

"MY ORDERS ARE FINAL!" Wufei snarled....

And Trowa THREW his sword down to the floor, and stalked out of the hallway and into his room, throwing himself onto his bed and SCREAMING as loud as he could to let out his frustrations. It didn't solve his problem... but it did help to let it out.

A few hours later, Trowa found himself sitting on his bed and staring at the stones in the wall.... And, he remembered Quatre opening a portal there.... Would that count as seeing him, if it were through a magical portal? It probably would...but... he was desperate to see him anyway... and he began to wish that that portal would open up and show him Quatre...

Trowa was a Dragon after all, and Dragon magic and the magic of the castle was so closely tied together, that it only took him concentrating on that one single thought for so long before the castle finally bent to Trowa's will....

A portal slowly opened, showing the sleeping chambers of Quatre.... but he didn't notice Trowa's eyes looking in on him... He had thrown himself down to his bed in frustration, taking a rest after all of the work from the day. He still wore his trousers and linen shirt... And, Trowa had to admit... that even as he looked at Quatre now, while he could somewhat still see the shape of a woman, he didn't REALLY see that any more. Trowa saw a MAN when he really looked at him.... and, perhaps... he always had?

Trowa moved closer to the portal, sitting right next to it to get closer, thinking about how wonderful it would be to be with Quatre. But, he wasn't allowed to... he'd been forbidden.

...wait....

He had been forbidden to even SEE Quatre, but yet... here he was, looking at him. There was no magic upholding Wufei's command.

BECAUSE Wufei had been freed?? It must have been so!

Trowa was NOT bound by his order! But none of the others knew that, and no one else had bothered to forbid him either. Trowa was free to do as he wished!

The thought of breaking such a rule frightened him a little. He had always been proud of being a Dragon and of doing his duty, but ever since Quatre had come to stay there, Trowa had begun to wonder if he even wanted to BE a dragon anymore if Quatre wasn't there. But that didn't matter, because Trowa was bound to serve this castle. He WAS a prisoner to it, although he had never felt like it until this very moment.

Trowa desperately wished to talk to Quatre, to hear what he thought, to understand what had happened. He wanted to, at least, say GOODBYE before the Prince finally managed to free himself, and left Trowa and the castle forever.

Trowa reached out towards the portal, wishing desperately, and was shocked when his hand easily moved through! His hand was in Quatre's bedchamber!

Recklessly, Trowa pushed through the portal, moving first his arms (and grabbing hold of a nearby candlestick to help him) then he leveraged himself through the portal—and landed with an assassin-soft entrance—gently tip-toeing his way into the room...

Quatre slept there, harmless like that....

Trowa knew why the others feared him but Trowa could not help himself from coming closer... and closer...

It was just a matter of time, really, until the Prince managed to get someone to walk him out of his chamber and as soon as the other Dragons realized that Trowa was not bound by Wufei's words, then they would just forbid him anyway. He might never get a chance to see Quatre AGAIN.

This very well could be the last time that Trowa ever set eyes on him.

Trowa stealthily sat down on the side of Quatre's bed and then reached out towards him. With hesitant fingers, he gently brushed the strands of hair away from his face. He could not let Quatre leave him without ever expressing how he felt! Even if it was only when the blonde man was sleeping.

Trowa leaned down.... and then closed his eyes as he finally pressed forward, and stole a soft... desperately loving kiss from the man's soft, pink lips.

Quatre had had a tantrum. He knew it. He wouldn’t apologize for it. He’d broken things and kicked things and screamed until he couldn’t anymore and, tiredly, he dragged himself to bed.

Time was running out and now Wufei was hell bent on keeping him prisoner. The thought made him sick, but he was too tired to keep doing what he was doing. He hadn’t even tried to find Trowa. The man hadn’t seemed to want to be found earlier. He told himself he’d try to find Trowa, his one last chance at help from the Dragon Guards, when he awoke.

What never saw coming was that he’d be awoken by the person he’d been thinking of as he fell asleep. Furthermore, he’d never imagined he’d be roused from his sleep with a gentle kiss. That bit was always reserved exclusively for princesses… and to his knowledge, he’d done his damnedest to convince Trowa, and the rest of the guards that he was a prince. Sure, they all saw him as a female, but he’d thought SURELY, Trowa had believed him!

“What are you doing?” Quatre gasped, sitting up. “D-Did – You just kissed me!” Yes, that was obvious, but in his defense, that hadn’t happened before.

Trowa FLUSHED hotly, and moved back a little, "Y-You weren't supposed to wake up.... And, And I WON'T apologize for it, either! It's just a matter of time before you manage to make it out of here...and I had to, before you left us."

Quatre sat up, "I should punch you. I've told you a million times over, I'm not a princess."

Trowa GLARED at him, "I KNOW. That's WHY I kissed you! Your spell has already weakened on me, I see you as a man when I look." He growled, his posture and his tone turning defensive, "And I WON'T apologize. But I will leave."

Trowa turned to look for the portal that had once been there.... but it was gone now.

"Don't leave," Quatre said, reaching out and catching the back of Trowa's shirt before he could get too far. "You're my last hope of getting out of here."

"We're not allowed to help you leave. And even if we were, I wouldn't help you."

"Why not?" Quatre asked, his hand tightening on Trowa's shirt. His tone was pleading. He was desperate to leave. Didn’t these dragons CARE that they were holding their rightful king captive?

Trowa looked away, but he didn't move to leave. "Can’t you work it out? I just kissed you, didn't I? I don't want you to leave. Because then... I'd never see you again."

"You're the closest thing to a friend I have here," he whispered, "But I need to get out, and you're going to help me... even if that means you never WANT to see me again. "

Trowa hands slowly balled up as he tensed... "Don't do this, Quatre..." he said, sounding defeated. In Trowa's head, he heard Wufei forbidding him from going to see Quatre. Wufei knew. He KNEW that Trowa would go, and that Quatre would use it against him... And yet, Trowa had gone right ahead and done it anyway.

"...I love you, Quatre.... Please don't leave."

"I'm sorry, Trowa... I have to do this," he told him, letting his shirt go. "Dragon... I challenge you," he said quietly. "Fight me."

Inside the mess hall, the chandelier glowed and Trowa let out a defeated, bitter sigh. Trowa stood before him and then he just opened his arms, not even going for the sword that was at his side, "....Go ahead...." he whispered, his tone broken. Defeated.

This was it for him. He'd lost. He couldn't fight Quatre-- he KNEW he couldn't. He cared too much for the man. And while he didn't want him to go, he also loved him enough that he couldn't stand in his way.

He didn't even bother to fight; he just waited for the three blows, before he had to submit.

Quatre stood and thumped him in the chest three times. Each one glowing gold for a moment before Trowa was frozen. "I didn't mean to use you like this," Quatre whispered honestly, reaching out to touch Trowa's iron collar. The etched marks on the metal glowed and transformed, much like Heero's did, transferring Trowa's ownership from the castle to Quatre. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he took a step back.

"Please walk me out," he told him. His tone was soft, but it was unmistakably a command.

Trowa touched the collar and frowned, “What… did you do? This didn’t free me…” 

Then, the magic of the command washed over him a little, and Trowa reached forward and touched Quatre’s arm, and began to walk him towards the door. He didn’t quite understand. Or rather, he didn’t actually BELIEVE what was happening. Had Quatre, not freed and discarded him, but taken HIM as his prize?

Trowa’s hands gripped him a little bit tighter and he moved through the Garden room.

Outside, he could see a line of Dragon guards beginning to congregate outside Quatre’s door, nervously moving from foot to foot, all seemingly unsure if they should stop this or help.

Quatre glared at them defiantly. On the way out, he gathered the sword he'd discarded and the staff he'd propped against the wall. He had still been wearing his knife and shoes. Once he was out, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He paused only long enough to grab his bag.

As they approached the dragons, Quatre stayed close to Trowa, "I beat three dragons fair and square - and I have claimed my prize. They are not allowed to stop us unless we provoke them," he said. "Is there anything you wish to take with you?" Quatre asked.

"You are OUT of LINE!" Wufei hissed, breaking through the ranks of dumbfounded soldiers. He looked harried and irate. His black eyes taking a reddish glow as he fought to contain his temper. "You can't do this to him!"

Quatre gave Wufei an icy look, "You've proven that I can't trust dragons to help me of their own volition. You have no right to speak to me. When I have finished using - No. It's none of your business. Stand aside," he growled. "Trowa? Let’s go fetch your things."

Trowa looked murderously at Quatre for that... But he held his tongue and Held his head high, pushing ahead and planning quickly what he would need. His life had just been turned upside down, and he could either sulk about it, or play with the hand that he'd been dealt.

He walked Quatre to his room in the Dragon barracks, where other Dragons stood, ones that Quatre had never even seen in glancing, belaying the sheer scale of the magical castle. Quatre received icy glares and muttered threats, but none dared to confront him-- They all knew that they could NEVER attack a protected. Provoked or not.

Trowa grabbed a small kip-bag from under the bed, emptied out simple camping supplies onto the floor, and then he began to throw in small personal items. Another pair of pants and a fresh tunic, his armor went over his head (come HELL or high water, he would NEVER go without it again in the presence of the now mistrusted Prince!) and then he stuffed in a treasure-box of letters, a few well-read books... and some knick-knacks that Quatre had never noticed before. Trowa then threw on a pair of well-worn riding boots that stayed under his bed, and put his other shoes into the bag, which he slung over his shoulder.

As a last glance, Trowa grabbed an apple from the nightstand, bit into it, and began to walk-- eyes forward and stubborn as hell, "Well, come on then, MASTER" He sneered the word, "Out is this way" and he said begrudgingly as he walked out.

Trowa pushed the door to his room open with his hip as he walked out... And then he looked to the Dragons that now lined the way out. They were all looking at Trowa as if he was a man walking his way to the gallows.

Quatre held his head high and kept his face unreadable. He'd had practice at keeping a mask on. He didn't look at any of them, but walked beside Trowa, knowing that the man had already begun to resent him. He could live with that... but he dearly wished he didn't have to. He knew what kind of monster he was playing, and he knew he was deliberately taking advantage of Trowa's affection for him.

He could try and set the record straight... but this wasn't the place to do it.

Trowa moved them through the hall, and then through a long maze of hallways, that Trowa navigated with ease. And then, suddenly, Quatre could see LIGHT streaming out of a large gilded door right in front of them but Trowa suddenly turned right before it, and moved down a dark staircase, moving what looked to be deeper and deeper into the castle.

"Where are we going?" Quatre asked, but didn't hesitate in following him.

Trowa flicked his eyes back to him, but had to admit, he was a little bit pleased to see that the blonde was still right behind him. Trusting him.

"...That's a trap. It falls out to a drop of about 100 feet. There's a magical barrier to keep women from falling, but I doubt it would help you. And, my horse is this way. If you're going to steal me, you'd better damn well believe that I'm keeping my damn horse." He growled, a protective and closeness evident in his voice that surprised the blonde. He didn't even know that Trowa had a horse, let alone how much be clearly cared for it.

Trowa pushed through another set of doors, and then they were assailed with the scent of FRESH air, the chill of wind, and the earthy smell of stables in the distance.

Just ahead of them was a wrought iron gate, currently looking locked, and guarded by vines that continued to writhe and grow and tighten or loosen around the bars. But Trowa turned away from that-- then paused in a growl of pain as his collar glowed.

He HISSED... and then glared at Quatre, "THAT is the way out, but I want my HORSE! ALLOW me to get him!!"

Quatre blinked, holding his hands up in a placating way, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was stopping you," he said quickly. "You may have him," he said, not sure what he was doing wrong. He certainly had NO intention to cause the dragon any harm!

The pain stopped and Trowa's collar dimmed back to neutral again. He didn't exactly stop glaring, but he turned away and moved towards the stables. He didn't even need to enter them-- He gave a sharp WHISTLE, receiving a nicker in reply just before a large, beautiful roan war-horse trotted out towards them. He was HUGE and had strong flanks with sharp, bright, painted lines down his side that, Quatre noticed now, matched the colors of Trowa's armor.

He was already saddled and everything and Trowa lifted his hand to the horse, and then took his bridle, and quickly mounted him like an acrobat doing a trick.

He rode the horse over to Quatre and glared a little as he looked down at him. "Get on," he growled, leaning down to offer his hand to help the Prince to get onto the large horse.

Quatre was quite adept at getting on a horse, but he DID appreciate the help. This horse was MUCH larger than anything he'd ever ridden, "... Please let me know when we're far away enough that the castle's magic is just out of reach," he whispered. He settled into the saddle behind Trowa and wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist.

Trowa wished that he had not been in this situation. He would have otherwise enjoyed the blonde's touch so VERY much. But he WAS in this situation, and the fact that he, somewhere deep, STILL did enjoy his touch seemed to anger him even more.

Trowa rode right towards the vines, and they parted for a Protected being escorted out. The gates of the castle grounds then opened and they found themselves on an old, barely-there road leading away.

When Quatre looked back, he could see the castle clearly through the gates. As soon as the gates closed, however, the castle was gone and in its place there was only more road, as if nothing had ever been there to begin with.

Trowa rode for a few more minutes and then he slowed the horse to a stop.

"....I don't know where we are now." Trowa admitted with a quiet voice. "The castle moves continuously. We could be anywhere within the kingdom now. Judging from the forest around us, I would guess that we're somewhere in the north." That wasn't saying much; the northlands were vast. They could really be anywhere.

Quatre nodded, “I know my geography. Let's keep going a little further. We shouldn't be too far from a village. In the meantime... I want to apologize. For everything I've put you through," he said. It was sincere, even if Trowa couldn't see his face. "I don't blame you for being angry. I said some nasty things..."

Trowa gave the horse the signal to keep going, and they sauntered off down the road some more.

Trowa didn't reply right away. He was mulling over just what to say.

"...It's my own fault. I let my guard down. I never should have."

"I used you... I'm not proud of it. I'm using you still and I'm very ashamed... but if you still have even a modicum of trust in me left, I promise I'll free you or return you to Castle Reed or whatever you want. Just- Just get me home."

Trowa was quiet for a moment, considering his options quietly, and then he asked, "Would you... let me see my Sister?"

That surprised the young prince. He hadn’t considered that dragons, specifically this one, could have sisters. "Of course! Do you know where she is?" Quatre asked. "You may see here whenever you like."

"I know where she is. She is stuck in service of your Uncle, King Amir," Trowa was quiet again for a moment and then he added, "Her name is Cathy. She's a witch."

Quatre froze. "... The red witch?" he asked, his tone turning icy.

Trowa paused the horse and then he TURNED to look over his shoulder and GLARE at Quatre as he said, "YES. She is. And it is HER that you can thank for all of the magic books that you have been enjoying. She sent them for me to give to you. She's as much a prisoner as you were, and she didn't have the luxury of having a little spell to break to allow HER freedom. She was born a Dragon, just like I was. And from the sound of it when you said her name, I take it that you've managed to piss HER off too. Well. Done." Trowa said with a snide remark, FURIOUS with the blonde and it only just starting to bubble to the surface.

"I have no clue what I did to piss her off. The one and only time I met her was when she turned me into a lady."

Trowa frowned, looking him over up and down, "What are you talking about? You don't even look like a lady anymore. And, believe me, if she wanted you to be a woman, you WOULD be. She wouldn't have done some flimsy glamour on you that only lasted a month!"

"I... don't? Look like a woman, I mean," he asked, looking very surprised.

"You think she cursed you, but I think that she saved you as best as she could within what she was ordered by her Master. And No, You don't. Not anymore, or at least, not to me. I didn't notice right away because I usually could see past it when I looked hard, but I used to see the outline of your womanly curse.... I can't see it anymore."

Quatre bit his lip, "May I ask something of you?"

"Yes. You can. I am yours now." He said bitterly... still rather furious about the whole thing.

"May I know exactly what it is I said that has made you angry? I did say quite a lot." He thought he could handle Trowa’s ire, but the more he talked to the man, the more relatable he became. What he’d done to the dragon so far was eating at him and he wanted to know if there was any way to make things right. "Please?" he added.

Trowa turned back to the road and urged the warhorse onward. He was stubbornly silent for QUITE some time, temper simmering just under the surface. The tension was slowly building until he couldn't stand it anymore; he just GROWLED, his voice roaring off of the deserted area around them, "I told you that I loved you! And- And you USED my affections for you to ENSALVE me!"

Quatre nodded, "I did." He was quiet for a bit longer, "I'm not going to make excuses. I could have freed you, like I did Wufei, but I was afraid you'd turn on me too. I couldn't afford that gamble. I can still free you, if that's what you'd like... You didn't want me to go, but I couldn't stay. A-and selfishly, I wanted to bring you with me. I... I told you I'd make it so that you wouldn't want to be around me. It was a prediction, not a threat."

Trowa's eyes softened, and his posture sagged a little in a bit of defeat, "...I..." he began. But then, he closed his mouth, thinking better of it.

"Please say it," Quatre urged, "You may say anything you like to me unless I specifically tell you otherwise, okay?"

That stubbornness was in the way again but, just like before, Trowa's resistance slowly began to weaken, "....I.... I don't know how to live out here. In your world. I'm a Dragon... I'm meant to guard a castle," he said simply, but the way he said it was absolutely serious. And in his tone, Quatre could tell, he sounded... lost. "The Dragon Guard - It's what I was born for..."

"... But... you know how to guard me... and... and you'll be near your sister. If you want, I can send you back to Castle Reed after you take me home."

"If that is what you wish, Master... That is what I will do." He said so sullenly, spurring the horse on to trot a little faster, trying to make more time.

The silence stretched out for several miles after that. Quatre held on to Trowa’s waist, watching the horizon to try and gauge where they were. He took note of natural formations and the direction of the sun. He’d figure out where they were. He was sure of it… but he kept getting distracted. The thoughts in his head kept turning to Trowa and how unfair this must be to him. The silence stretched on until Quatre could no longer hold his tongue.

"I thought I could withstand you being mad at me... but I can't. I thought of you as a friend back there and I've only had one other my entire life. I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry I'm an ass. I'm sorry I took you away from your home. I'm sorry I never gave you a chance to help me. I've been single minded and selfish. First, I enslave Heero for the purpose of saving Duo, then I free Wufei and only manage to make an enemy out of him. I'm starting to think that being king is too lofty a responsibility for someone like me.”

"...Wufei once said..." Trowa replied softly, not really looking at Quatre as be continued to drive the horse, "...that... he thought that you would be a better King than the Usurper in charge now... He would know; I don't have any interest in politics, but he does. He said that Prince Quatre was known to be just and kind of heart, but shrewd and clever too. 'A good balance' Wufei would say. And, his praise doesn't come lightly."

"And I've proven to be a brat," Quatre sighed. "I know it’s petty, but with the way he treated me all month, I hope the Red Witch would be so inclined to make Wufei appear female for a WEEK! - NO! - A DAY even!"

A merry little LAUGH escaped Trowa's lips-- JUST for a moment! JUST a tiny one-- and then he clamped down on it, reminding himself that he was still angry with Quatre. But the truth was, that he was starting to waver.

"That was the most infuriating thing I've ever lived through! I felt so HELPLESS! A-and FEEBLE!" He was on a roll, all his frustrations spilling out at once. "No one cared to listen, let alone heed me! I've never felt so impotent in my LIFE." When Trowa didn’t add anything, Quatre bit the inside of his cheek, "So tell me, what else have I done to anger you?"

Trowa let out a sigh, "Quatre! Will you stop badgering me about it?" he grunted. A few moments later, though, he was answering anyway, "And, I'm not really mad about anything else, except what I've already said."

The way he left that hanging, Quatre thought it best to just drop it. Having resigned himself to having the conversation ended, Quatre was very surprised when Trowa continued after a few minutes.

"...And I didn't know that you had taken Heero as your prize. I just knew he wasn't around anymore, and that Wufei had been freed. I didn't know you were going to take me to be yours. When I begged you not to do this to me, back in you room I mean, I didn't know that you'd ask me to stay in your service," he grudgingly admitted.

Quatre hugged him tight, pressing his face against Trowa's back, "I know it's too soon to ask, but I hope you'll forgive me in time. I... also plan on freeing Heero. I... I only made him mine out of spite. And out of concern for Duo. By taking ownership of him, I ensured that he can't disobey an order; I wasn't sure that he'd really go all the way home to free my best friend if I hadn’t forced him to."

Trowa tensed at first-- but, within a moment, he was melting against the touch. He allowed himself to mold against Quatre's embrace, and, against all of his wishes, a little hum of pleasure escaped his lips when the blond man EMBRACED him so tightly.

"I... am fond of you," Quatre whispered. "It hurts me to know I've hurt you.”

"....Heaven help me..." Trowa whispered, "But... I think that I still love you." he admitted, sounding defeated to do so.

Quatre gave him another squeeze, "Please don't give up on me yet," he whispered. "I'm so very fond of you. I... I can't imagine going back home and having to go through my day without you. I… know how you feel about me, and I’m sorry I’m using you, and your feelings for me like this." He rested his head between Trowa’s shoulder blades and whispered, “Please don’t give up on me yet, my sweet dragon.”

Slowly, Trowa allowed his free hand to move across his waist and found Quatre's hand there. He slowly moved to touch his fingertips, and then, slowly intertwined them.

He was still angry-- Angry to his CORE. But... But Quatre's hand felt so good. So wonderful, and comforting, despite the fact that he was still furious with him.

Trowa couldn't think for a moment about what a day would look like without QUATRE in it either. And, he could easily admit that, because it was the same emotion that led him to walk through the portal, and find himself kissing the dangerous man.

Trowa continued to spur the horse onward, riding until the sun was just beginning to set, and they found themselves on the outskirts of a tiny village.

Trowa tensed a little bit more when they began to see houses, and others on or near the road. People looked up at them as they passed, and they seemed to STARE. Trowa had no idea why. It was making him nervous, and anxious, for Quatre's safety.

"Why are they staring?" Trowa hissed after the third person stopped to look right at them. Trowa's hand TIGHTNED nervously against Quatre's.

"Warhorses are uncommon," he whispered, "And you wear armor. Let's stop at the inn and ask where we are. We can get a room there, I'm sure. I brought plenty of trinkets to barter."

Trowa followed Quatre's directions to stop the horse at the stables of a small cottage-type house. Trowa dismounted with grace, and then helped Quatre down.

A stable hand came out to help with the horse-- and Trowa already began to draw his sword, ready to spear the man THROUGH if he came near.

Quatre, though, got in the way and asked if there were any rooms available. The man said they had only one room and glared at Trowa. Quatre, once again, intervened.

"We'll take the one room," he began to say when the stable hand gave Quatre a look, "I don't think the madam would like a young lady staying with the likes of him..."

"We've eloped," Quatre said quickly. "I... I don't have a ring yet. Not a proper one..." So they still saw him as a woman. That was annoying… but he supposed it could be useful. For a while, anyway. No one would suspect him if they all thought he was just some silly maid running off with a knight.

Trowa got his head out of his ass a moment later, and he GLARED at the stable hand even more as he said, "And she WILL have one. A proper one that she deserves. I will take care of her. And tonight, we WILL have a room," he GROWLED low and angrily-- but with a voice that stayed within the human tones. He was careful not to let his roar out of his chest, despite how much he wanted to.

It had been a long time since Trowa had lived in the human world, but he did remember SOME things.

Quatre hugged Trowa’s side, to the stable-hand, she was seemingly trying to calm her new husband.  "I'm sorry for the trouble," Quatre said, giving the stable hand one of the innocent looks his sisters had perfected.

Half an hour later, they were in a room, together, and each had a warm bowl of soup. "I... didn't mean to make a liar out of you," Quatre said, mopping up the last of his soup with what was left of the bread he’d been given. He hadn’t meant to put Trowa in this spot. The man had already confessed his love for Quatre and feeding the stable-hand that lie no doubt hurt his dragon further.

Trowa dug into his soup and had to admit that he was grateful to be in their room now, private, and without anyone else to interfere.

"...I understand... And, you did it to cover up the mistake I made. I shouldn't have reacted angrily towards him. Forgive me. I... forget what it's like to pretend to be normal."  Trowa said with a bit of a shrug, "Just know not to expect too much of me that way. I was never any good at it even when I lived full time in the human world as a child. The village hated us."

"I don't hate you. Or fear you," Quatre said, setting aside his bowl and kicking off his boots for bed. He’d already put aside his weapons and had taken off his belt before turning to examine the bed. It looked to be in fair condition, and the sheets looked clean.

Trowa was quiet as he played with his spoon inside the soup. Slowly raised his spoon, blowing gently on the soup before taking a bite.

"... It... it is nice," he said after a moment, and then flicked his eyes up to Quatre, giving him a tentative smile, "...to be able to be with you longer than 5 minutes at a time."

"You still have a choice," Quatre said softly, pausing in his attempt to fluff the pillows, "But you won't have to make it until we get there. Back to Sandrock Castle, I mean."

"The stable hand still sees you as a woman. But I don't," Trowa said carefully, changing the subject so that he didn't have to answer. "I don't know why."

"It hasn't been thirty days," Quatre shrugged, yawning. “Maybe you see through it because you believe me. Or maybe dragon magic doesn’t work on you outside Castle Reed. It’s annoying, but it does make things convenient," he whispered climbing into bed. He didn’t want anyone overhearing that part.

Trowa watched him, then his eyes flicked around the room. The open window and lack of lock on the door made him very nervous. And, while he knew it wouldn't be exactly proper, he didn't like the idea of being far from his responsibility. So, tentatively, Trowa moved towards the bed, too. He took off his boots and then he slid down to lay beside his charge, half expecting to be kicked out.

Quatre gave him a smile and made room for him to lie down. "Thank you, for everything so far," he whispered, turning off the lamp in the room and closing his eyes, much more at ease with their sleeping arrangement than Trowa had expected. Quatre didn’t know if he should be encouraging Trowa, but he was hard pressed to turn him away. Knowing full well that the man had feelings for him didn’t stop Quatre from wanting to be close to him. He couldn’t let himself think about it. Not yet.

He couldn’t even entertain the idea of reciprocating the dragon’s feelings at present, but if allowing his besotted companion to hold him so intimately gave Trowa some comfort, and a measure of happiness, Quatre would not begrudge him the bed.

Trowa slid in right behind him, and after just a moment, he wound his arms around the blonde.

Heero had ridden all night, his eyes quite able to see in the darkness. He’d fled Castle Reed before any of the dragons had even figured out what had happened between him and Prince Quatre. He knew Wufei would be the first to figure out what had happened and would try to stop him.

Heero had to make sure that didn’t happen.

He was riding out of the castle grounds when the lights in the castle began to flicker on, the news of having a prince beating a dragon coursing through the castle in a frenzy. He was almost there…

The light and noise from the castle suddenly disappeared as he and his trusty white warhorse crossed the open gates. He was on a mission; Save Duo. He didn’t need that stupid little prince telling him what to do, but since his order was exactly what Heero had intended to do, the magic behind the order made it easy for him to get through the magical barriers that might normally interfere with a dragon’s mobility, or intent thereof.

In fact, Heero wasn’t entirely sure that a dragon COULD leave the castle grounds unless specifically ordered to do so, but he didn’t have time to meditate on that thought. He had a more pressing objective.

He didn’t know where the hell he was and he didn’t really care. Once outside the castle, he only took a moment to survey the area, and, guided by little more than instinct, he directed his horse down a path in the darkness. The further he rode, the more distinct the feeling in his chest became. Something was pulling him in a certain direction, but he could only guess at its origin. His initial thought was that his collar was leading him to Duo, as per Prince – no – MASTER Quatre’s instruction.

He travelled for hours. Below him, Wing seemed to thrill at the opportunity he had to simply run. It wasn’t often that Wing had the chance to stretch his legs. By morning, he could see the peaks of Sandrock Castle on the horizon. It was another day’s journey, he was sure, but he also knew that Wing could make it there in half the time.

Having pushed Wing all night, Heero decided it was best to give him a brush down and let him rest. He was also tired, having just come off duty when he delivered Master Quatre his dinner. He hadn’t even paused to eat more than a single stuffed roll before going to see the prince. He was too wound up and ready to flee to think about his exhaustion, though he HAD thought of saddling his horse and packing up his bag prior to his ‘battle’ … if it could even be called that.

He found a spot to rest a little ways off the main road and fed and watered wing. He had a bite or two of hard cheese and meat from his pack, then settled in for a small nap. He’d be ready to continue his journey in just a few hours.

Back in the dungeons of Sandrock Castle, Duo paced. It had been three weeks. THREE WHOLE WEEKS! He’d never sat still for this long in his LIFE. He had to admit that he was going a bit stir crazy, but the Red Witch had been helping him lately. She came to him in dreams and he got the impression that she too was a prisoner. How anyone could contain such magic was beyond him, but that seemed to be the case.

After about a week of her coming in his dreams, he learned that if he “meditated”, per her suggestion, he could actually leave his cell. The prospect of roaming the halls freely was an enticing one, and seeing as he’d promised her in one of her visits early on that he would not attempt to escape, this meditation business was becoming more and more attractive.

At first, getting himself to sit still and concentrate on visualization and all that crap was difficult. He’d either get frustrated or fall asleep. But with the witch – Cathy’s – guidance, he soon mastered meditation and, better yet, soul projection. He began with small jaunts; down the hall, in the next cell, and up one floor. After that, he began trying to go further and further, but it wasn’t until the 20^th day of his imprisonment that something shook him hard enough to make him lose his concentration.

He felt something that he hadn’t felt in ten years – Heero’s presence.

When Trowa awoke, he was first surprised, and then touched, to find the blonde Prince curled up against his side, as if Trowa were the best pillow in the world. He had mashed his head against Trowa's chest, his short hair flying all over the much taller man, and his fingers entwined in the undone ties from Trowa's simple tunic. He looked gloriously beautiful like this, and Trowa didn't want to spoil the moment for anything.

Unfortunately, someone else did.

A knock at the door startled both of them, and Trowa immediately moved to retrieve his sword. He stood, and moved towards the sound as the knock came again. Then, the voice of an older, rather-cross sounding woman accompanied it, "Breakfast. It’s disgusting if it gets cold. Come and get it."

Trowa frowned a bit, annoyed, but he kept his sword ready just in case something was amiss and opened the door. Once the door was open, she barged in with a tray, on top of which sat two large bowls of oatmeal and two mugs of watered down mead. Setting them on the table, she flicked her eyes around the room.

“Cute couple," She said sarcastically, her eyes flicking up to Trowa, then to Quatre, who was on the bed with his tunic askew and trousers instead of the dress that Trowa supposed that the woman expected her to be in. Had Quatre really been a woman, she'd have looked positively indecent in that disheveled state!

“Lady Catherine?” Duo called out. He was in his mind’s landscape. He had been told that everyone had their own and Duo’s happened to be a polyandrium. His world was colored in greys, whites and blacks, with the occasional pop of color here and there. The area around him was little more than a ruin in a circular shape with grave sites that marked all his loved ones – from this life and lives lived before. The names on the monuments were written in different scripts, both ancient and modern, scratched into stone or carefully inlaid in gold. It was a cemetery for warriors, he knew, even the unconventional ones, like Lady Helena, who had fought to keep urchins like him safe, warm and fed, despite the resistance she came up against, day after day.

Duo walked through the rubble, his long black robes trailing behind him and evaporating into misty shadows. He had a reaper’s soul. He’d learned that by now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t value life… and love… and light. Quite the opposite. Those were the things that gave him comfort. He hadn’t understood what it had meant to have a reaper’s soul… and he still didn’t. But Lady Catherine continuously told him it was nothing bad and nothing to fear. His being alive was a good omen, despite what superstitious people were inclined to believe.

“Lady Catherine!” he called out again, his eyes, ethereal in this world, with a haunting violet glow, darted from shadow to shadow, looking for the woman… then smiled when he felt her presence.

Turning around, he spied her standing behind him. Her red dress clung to her in a way that shouldn’t be possible, leaving little of her curves to the imagination. On her shoulders, her red cloak looked to be alive with flames licking the grey air around her. She was beautiful and terrifying.

“What do you need, little reaper?” she asked. Her voice smooth as velvet.

“Heero. He’s coming. I’ve been looking for him for years, and now I feel him. Quatre too. I feel Quatre. What is it that I should be doing? I’ve been reading, and studying and I’m up to my eyeballs in spells and incantations! What am I even doing?!” he asked, becoming more and more agitated.

“I could have freed myself, but I stayed put. I could have slaughtered that damn Amir, but I stayed my hand. WHY do I have to stay? I’m USELESS! I could be out there, helping Quatre come home, but I’m HERE, playing make-believe in my head! This is SO STUPID!”

“It isn’t stupid, little reaper. You need to get stronger…” she began, trying to soothe him.

“WHAT FOR?!” he bellowed, the air around him coming alive with black and purple flames. “YOU are keeping me here! WHY?!”

“Because you can free me. You and HE can free me,” she said, looking tired. Hollow. “He’s taken possession of my brother and now he is coming to reclaim what was taken from him. But he will fail.”

“Quatre will not fail!” Duo said, with a menacing calm in his voice.

“He will. Unless if you’re there to protect him.”

“From what?” he asked, looking entirely lost.

Heero woke up with a start. He had slept longer than he’d intended, noting how far past noon the sun seemed to be. He got up, checked to see that all his belongings were still there and gave a sharp whistle, calling Wing to him. He was bound and determined to make it to Castle Sandrock by nightfall.

Wing really did live up to his name. Heero had no sooner mounted the beast when it took off at a breakneck gallop. Again, it was eager to take flight, tearing down the packed dirt roads. Much like its owner, it had a single-minded intensity that drove it to go further and further, faster and faster. It outlasted what most horses were capable of and it only slowed down when it caught whiff of fresh water. Heero decided it would be good to take a break, but only long enough for him to climb a tree with a great vantage point of the castle.

They were near enough the castle that Heero could sit and observe while Wing had his fill of water from the stream. It was well-guarded and the walls were in excellent shape. The village at the foot of the castle looked bustling, though it did not escape his notice that there was a certain pall over the villagers. Many still wore black ribbons on their arms.

That’s right. King Omar was only a month dead. Or near enough.

“Are you going to sit up there all evening?” a voice called out from somewhere below, making him tense, reaching for his sword. He looked down, but there was no one there.

He climbed down, sword at the ready, but he still didn’t see anyone. Oddly enough, Wing didn’t seem concerned, and his horse was the most ill-mannered, aggressive beast the Dragon Guard had. It was like he didn’t even register that anyone else was around, but Heero was certain that he’d heard a voice – a male voice – call to him.

“You’ve gotten taller,” the voice said from behind him, making Heero whirl in place, ready to attack, but again, no one was there. Looking around, he froze when he saw a young man, dressed in black robes with a thick rope of hair over his shoulder standing right in front of him, grinning a cheeky grin. He was slender, but as tall as Heero with blue eyes that seemed to glow with an unearthly violet glow. He looked familiar… but it couldn’t be Duo. This young man was translucent and his robes weren’t touching the stone-covered ground.

Pointing a sword at him, Heero grunted, “I don’t have time for games.”

“Is that so? Why are you here, Heero?” the specter asked.

The voice sent shivers up Heero’s spine. The face seemed to morph, looking like the boy he once knew for a moment before changing, over and over. Like he was a hundred people in the same face.

“I am here on Master’s orders… how do I get inside?”

“All you had to do was ask,” the impish face grinned, but he was gone in a wisp of smoke. Where he had stood, rocks were moved out of place and a trap door was opened. It had been well-disguised.

Heero went to it and examined it. The wooden trap door had been properly disguised on the outside so that when closed, it looked like just another pile of rocks. He hesitated for just a moment, but then he felt something tug at him and down the hole he went, sword at the ready.

For the second time since his flight from Castle Reed did it come in very handy to be able to see in pitch darkness.

Wufei paced. He was in the garden, trying his best to get his thoughts together; to settle the raging emotions in his heart. The excitement had finally subsided and all there was left was the aftermath. What should the dragons do? There were no more princesses to take care of. No one to guard. Would they all be transferred to other castles? Would a princess and her maid be brought to Castle Reed?

And then he thought about his brethren. Where had Heero gone? What was that blond upstart doing with Trowa?

Wufei was riddled with guilt. Of the three young dragons, he was the eldest and they were his charges. It had been on him to keep those two in line, make sure they assimilated with the group, and became model dragons. Now that they were gone, he had to accept that he’d failed.

That was a bitter realization. Failure. He never imagined this possible outcome. How could he? Dragons were bound to the castles they served. They all wore iron markers to show which castle they belonged to and all were perfectly happy to serve. How could Heero have left like that? And Trowa?

It was the fault of Prince Quatre, Wufei fumed. It was HIS fault that his charges were gone. Yes, he could very well call the young Protected a “he” now. Wufei had seen firsthand the way that Quatre had fought, and he did not move like a woman. He consoled himself in being defeated that Quatre had looked female when he’d challenged Wufei, but by the time Quatre had won, there could be no mistaking him for anything else but a young man. Whatever spell had been cast upon Quatre, it ceased to work on Wufei the moment Quatre destroyed his iron marker.

And that left him with another problem. Without the iron marker, he felt lost. He’d worn it since the first day he arrived in Castle Reed, when he was only five years old. He’d worn that marker with pride; it was a dragon’s duty, after all. And now, Quatre had rid him of it, leaving him bereft.

He no longer felt compelled to follow the Grand Master’s orders, and increasingly, he found himself questioning orders and why they did things the way they did. The latter unsettled him immeasurably. He’d never questioned his position, never questioned an order, but now… now he was finding it difficult to see sense in much of what they did. The Grand Master hadn’t told him he had to leave, but he was starting to feel more and more out of place; a feeling he’d never had in his life.

He had to fix his situation. While the Grand Master and the leaders figured out what would become of Castle Reed and the Dragon Guards that lived there, he had a bigger mission. His identity was at stake. He had once thought that Prince Quatre would make a good ruler and was a very good candidate for succession, but now… now he was questioning that first assessment. Quatre was clever, he gave him that, and tenacious. He was driven, which wasn’t a bad quality, and dedicated. Wufei frowned. He didn’t like Quatre for what he’d done – escaped – but when he broke down Quatre’s attributes, he was hard pressed to find a trait that he innately disapproved of.

Wufei looked up at the sky, the sun was starting to rise and he could hear the sounds of the castle as the Dragon Guards began to wake and mill about. WHY did he dislike Quatre?

He had an easy answer for that one – he’d taken Heero and Trowa without so much as a by your leave. He’d used all three of them to achieve his goal. He selfishly sought his freedom, and didn’t care for the consequences of his actions. Why couldn’t he be like the other princesses?

That thought made him pause, “I. AM. YOUR. KING!” he had bellowed as he struck Wufei for the last time. That Protected had been brought in as a female, but he was a man. The thought made Wufei’s stomach turn. He’d never really stopped to think about that particular detail. Why hadn’t he? The thought of being mistaken for and treated like a woman, a feeble one at that, made him feel sick. And not only that – Wufei was guilty of belittling Quatre, calling him crazy and indecent. Why had he never questioned it? Why hadn’t he ever had a problem with Quatre being enchanted, even after Trowa spoke up for his gender?

Because he couldn’t – he was under orders to protect the confined Princess Quatre. The realization shocked him to the core.

Had he been in Quatre’s shoes, wouldn’t he have fought as long and as hard to convince his captors that there had been a mistake? Wouldn’t HE have refused to wear dresses, begged to be cut out of a corset, and ask for a weapon as well?

The thought that he and Quatre weren’t all that different made Wufei uncomfortable, but he was starting to realize that he couldn’t stay at Castle Reed.

He went back inside the castle, managing to avoid colliding with other Dragon Guards as they switched off, and went to the barracks.

Dragon Guards. That’s what he thought he had been. It was a joke.

Just days ago, Trowa had vouched for Quatre. He’d fought with Heero, trying to convince the two of them that Quatre was a boy and that this had been done to him in order for Amir to usurp the throne.

That thought made him freeze mid-step.

Quatre was the rightful king. He had been hexed, undermined and imprisoned. And Wufei had had a hand in it. He had outright refused to help his rightful king. He had turned his back on Quatre. He had no longer been bound by the orders of Castle Reed. He had refused him of his own accord.

It was treason.

Wufei was suddenly having a hard time breathing, but it didn’t matter because his feet knew where to go. He ran all the way up to his cell of a room and quickly packed. He had to make this right. He barely remembered his flight through the castle and down to the stables where his beloved Nataku was anxiously prancing, picking up on his master’s anxiety.

In no time, Wufei had saddled up his reddish brown stallion, secured his packs onto the saddle, and was riding off toward the gates. Nothing and no one stood in his way. He was no longer bound by the castle and he had a mission of his own – he had a duty to the king whom he’d so thoroughly scorned and humiliated.

Heero trekked through the darkness, the tunnel narrow and neglected. Though the walls were paved with mud brick, weeds and roots from above had compromised the passage significantly over time. He picked his way through, carefully navigating through rubble or the occasional large root that obscured his way. Before long, he arrived at an atrium of sorts, with several passages leading from it. He paused to consider his options, but he didn’t have to think long. An echo of laughter and a blackish-purple glow would appear to guide him every time he was at a crossroads.

He wasn’t stupid; it had definitely occurred to him that he could be following something nefarious. This could all be a trap – but that hardly made any sense. No one knew where he’d been sent, and even if the dragons at Castle Reed had known, he doubted there was very much any of them could do. They were too brainwashed, blindly following orders that he could now see were questionable. But no one realized that they were little more than puppets. That was the point, after all, of being slaves bound by magic.

He followed the dark orb of light down countless hallways until he was hopelessly lost. If he stopped following it, he had the feeling he may never make it out of this labyrinth. He’d almost considered the possibility of this being a trap when the dark orb paused in front of a wooden door before passing through.

Heero cautiously approached it and listened. There were people on the other side.

“Prince Amir is doubling up on security,” one voice was saying. “He’s becoming more and more concerned about his safety as we get closer to the coronation ceremony.”

“Why is he worried?” a second voice, younger, but very much a man’s voice, said. “He’s exposed Princess Quatre for the liar she was. King Omar didn’t have any sons if Princess Quatre has been lying all these years…”

“Yes, well, Princess Quatre is still the named heir. I heard that the Red Witch said that if she can escape the dragons, she’ll turn Princess Quatre into a prince.”

“But won’t she have to be rescued? And wouldn’t her rescuer be a knight or something?” the younger man said. “If I rescued a princess, it would be with the intent to marry her. I wouldn’t want her to be turned into a man.”

“I heard that many second and third sons, princes, I mean, have been trying to look for Castle Reed. If they marry Princess Quatre – the true heir – and if the witch DOESN’T turn her into a man, they’ll be elevated to kings.”

“If Princess Quatre becomes queen,” a third, gruff voice interrupted, effectively shutting them up. “Whomever she marries will not be king; he will be the Queen’s Consort. Now, get your asses to your stations. You are not being paid to gossip about princes and princesses.”

There were sounds of footsteps and some shuffling, and then it went quiet and the door opened on its own. Heero peeked out and took stock of the room. It looked like an area where jailors could sit and rest, perhaps take their meals. Heero did not put his sword away as he stepped out from behind the door. As it closed behind him, he realized it had been covered with a tapestry and he wondered if the men that had just been in the room had known that it was there.

He didn’t think about it too much though, he was here for one reason and one reason only. Duo.

But where was he? A movement to his right caught his attention – the dark orb was back and going down that hall. Heero followed silently, stalking like a large cat he’d read about in books. The cells in this area seemed nicely appointed, and almost all were empty. All except for the last cell; the one that the dark orb disappeared behind.

Steeling his nerves, he approached the heavy wooden door with the square of iron bars set into it. He was about to peer into the room when the door just opened up, exposing a small room littered with books and parchment, despite the bed being made. The room was otherwise fairly sparse. He stuck his head in further and froze when he saw a boy – no – young man sitting by the window, a long rope of hair trailing down his back, eyes closed.

He took a sharp intake of breath as the eyes opened – so dark blue, they looked violet. Those eyes blinked, as if clearing mental cobwebs for a moment, then looked up at Heero, rooting the young dragon to the spot. A bright smile lit up that face impish face, one that Heero hadn’t seen in years.

“Heero,” the young man said, standing, his black robes clean, well kept, and rich – a far cry from what they’d both grown up with – “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Trowa GLARED at yet another villager that stopped to stare at his horse as they passed by, making him scurry away. Quatre laughed merrily then, and elbowed Trowa a bit, causing the moody dragon to level his glare at the blond in his arms, “It's NOT funny!”

Quatre let out another snicker and Trowa found that he couldn't help but be a little bit infected by Quatre's mirth. The boy was vibrant, outside the castle, and it was hard for Trowa to stay near him and be moody. Idly, Trowa was beginning to wonder if the Quatre he’d started to fall for in Castle Reed bore any resemblance to the real Quatre; the one he was getting to know now.

"Actually, from where I sit, it is,” Quatre hummed. “Mostly because you seem to be so put out about it, and they’re just curious," he added, rolling his eyes a little as he shifted on the saddle. Trowa's arms were wrapped around him as they rode closer and closer to Sandrock castle. They were within a few hours but the very tops of the flag poles could be seen just over the horizon.

"I hate sticking out." Trowa said with a frown, and he shifted a bit in his saddle as well, trying to give his Protected a little more room. "That's part of what I liked about Castle Reed. I never stuck out at all. But here, people stare. If it's not because of HeavyArms, then it's because of my armor, or because we seem to be an 'odd couple' like that last merchant said. I don't think anyone should have any opinions of us, odd couple or not." He grunted.

A minute later, Trowa continued on, "...And frankly, I don't think that we're an Odd Couple at all. We might be.... actually... quite suited..." He added, feigning nonchalance, but he was actually QUITE worried about Quatre's reaction to such a statement.

“You’re letting them get to you. They’re curious and we ARE odd. They see a woman dressed in breeches traveling with a dragon guard. Of course they’re going to have opinions. Everyone has them. I’m sure they’re trying to figure out if I’m a Winner princess, or a high-born lady, or a prostitute. They’re also probably wondering why we’re riding on a warhorse. They probably think I’m a spoil of some kind and don’t know what to make of it, so they’re keeping out of our business by not getting in the way, but you can’t stop them from imagining whatever they like,” Quatre told him, not looking the least bit perturbed. “You do realize that we’re probably the biggest and likely only source of entertainment for these people this season, don’t you? Let them make up stories.”

Quatre had seemed to be fine with their slowly growing closeness over the last two days of travel, and he had seemed comfortable to sleep in the same bed as Trowa. He even wrapped his arms around him, and held him in front of people. It was nicer than Trowa wanted to admit, but he also recognized that a lot of that behavior could have just been Quatre's way of keeping up the appearance of being Trowa's 'wife' for concealment.

Trowa didn’t say any more after that. His heart ached; he wanted to be closer to Quatre, but Quatre didn’t seem to notice. They rode for a few miles more in silence. By then, they were well away from the last village and were headed in the direction of Castle Sandrock. By Quatre’s estimation, he still had two days before his uncle took power, and no doubt, there would be plenty of comings and goings at the castle. If all was as expected, Amir would think his victory assured and he would be preparing for an obscenely lavish feast. If so, Quatre would use that to their advantage and, as a ‘woman’ he should be able to infiltrate with the number of added staff that he was sure would be required.

Quatre suddenly felt Trowa hug him tightly, the dragon’s breath letting out a ragged sigh. Quatre wasn’t stupid. He knew how the dragon felt about him; the man had vocalized it moments before Quatre took him as a prisoner. What did surprise him, however, was that Trowa did not seem to resent him for what he’d done. At least, not past the initial anger; in fact, he seemed more attached than Quatre had recalled. His heart longed to explore what could be, but… he couldn’t let himself get distracted. He was working with a truncated deadline; his heart, if he had any luxury in indulging it at all, could wait.

It was getting dark, but they were SO close to the castle. They’d need to go in fresh so Quatre declared that they would camp one more time before figuring out a way in. He didn’t want to risk going to an inn.

They were just about to enter Castle Sandrock’s forest when they heard galloping, hard galloping, from a road running parallel to the one they were on. Quatre knew there would be an intersection up ahead, but that didn’t help him any when they nearly crashed with a reddish warhorse hell-bent on covering as much ground as possible.

There were a few moments of confusion; steel was drawn, horses nearly dislodged their riders, and magical pressure met magical pressure. In all honesty, Quatre almost passed out when he was bombarded by the latter.

Trowa grabbed onto Quatre as he wobbled from the saddle and steadied him. The large red horse, Nataku, Trowa knew, reared in anger. Had he been a dragon, he was sure that smoke would be fuming from his nostrils. But as angry as the horse was, the rider seemed even more so.

Wufei pointed his drawn sword towards Trowa, who returned the gesture, and glared at him.

"If you were here to bring me back to Castle Reed-" Trowa began, his voice rising; a clear threat.

"I am here to do my DUTY, and serve the KING." Wufei instead said, squaring his shoulders, and then slowly lowered his sword.

Trowa watched him a moment, and then lowered his too. Without conscious thought, he also quelled the storming magical energy that was pulsing between the two Dragons, giving the human between them some much needed air.

Quatre led out a sigh of relief, but his head was pounding as it rolled back against Trowa's chest, "... There is a clearing... half a mile down this road.... there's a deer path. On the left," he slurred, eyes rolling back a little. "I's safe th're"

Trowa carefully kept his arms wrapped around him tightly, glaring a little at Wufei as if it were solely the other man’s fault for Quatre being in such a condition, as he spurred Heavyarms towards the small deer path and followed directions.

Quatre was so affected by the clash of magic, in fact, that he barely remembered leading Trowa to an area of the wood he knew was completely overlooked.

He didn’t know that this was the same area that Heero had himself stopped at before that glow had led him inside. Wufei led his horse in a circle, looking out for any potential threats, but once both he and Trowa were satisfied that the area was safe, they began to let down their guard, but only a bit.

"Are you alright, Quat? What happened?!" Trowa whispered fiercely as he dismounted, anxiety lacing his words.

"M'mm fine," Quatre slurred, but he was barely conscious. He managed to get them to the clearing he'd been thinking of before he passed out, nearly falling out of the saddle.

Trowa caught him and pulled him off the saddle. Meanwhile, Wufei pulled a rolled blanket from his pack and placed it on a soft pile of leaves so that Trowa could lay the slender, fragile-looking prince down. Trowa arranged him carefully, propping the blond head on the soft bedroll, and after checking him over to ensure he had no physical injuries, he and Wufei silently began to set up a very Spartan camp. They watered their horses and built a small fire to warm up some water for Wufei’s tea. Being dragons was advantageous; they could control how big and how brightly the flames were, lessening their chances of being spotted.

What their party didn’t know, having followed Quatre’s directions, was that there was another party waiting for them in that clearing. It was where Quatre and Duo had often enjoyed playing ‘storm the castle’ until the sun came down and they were meant to be inside.

This time, they wouldn’t be playing at storming the castle.

As the sun went down, the silent spectator observed them. He wasn’t sure at first if they were friend or foe; Quatre’s state of unconsciousness didn’t help his opinion of them, but he would wait.

Once the dragons had settled in, they quickly, and quietly caught up. Both worried for Quatre, but neither knew what else to do except let him sleep. They hoped that it would be enough.

The clearing was very quiet for hours after that. Neither Wufei nor Trowa felt the need to speak and both were leery of drawing unwanted attention. They sat back to back, as they often had in the castle, each watching his side, on the lookout for intruders. It was nice to have that sense of familiarity after the whirlwind of disruption to their lives. Both began to feel more at ease as they engaged in what they knew – Guarding a Protected.

Quatre's head was pounding as he slowly cracked an eye open. There was no fire by then. The Dragons didn’t need it to see and the weather was mild enough that they didn’t think Quatre needed the added warmth. The horses were, at least, being watered. Quatre watched as Trowa and Wufei sat not too far away and began to sit up.

As soon as Quatre began to move, Trowa's eyes snapped over towards him. He had sensed the man was awake again and, feeling that, he smiled warmly towards him, "Hello, Handsome." He said, moving away from Wufei to come closer to the blonde.

Wufei let out an embarrassed huff and turned to give them his back. He blocked them out and instead focused on being a lookout. It’s what he was good at.

Trowa reached forward, and gently pushed hair away from Quatre's eyes, "Feeling better? We were worried for you.”

Quatre smiled a little, but noticed that Wufei, after making another disgruntled sound,  had stood up to check the perimeter. Seeing Wufei giving them space both amused and embarrassed Quatre. He pulled his attention away from Wufei who was very obviously trying to ignore them, and smiled up at Trowa, "Hello yourself," he whispered. "... What happened?"

 "We don't know... You were just fine, and then we ran into Wufei. Suddenly you were losing your balance. I had to hold you up so you didn't fall off Heavyarms. You got us to these ruins though."

"... You knocked him out with Dragon magic, you idiots," an airy voice said. One with a hint of laughter and malice at the same time. Suddenly, Wufei appeared in the clearing once again, sword drawn as Quatre tried to stand up.

 Trowa immediately moved in front of Quatre, drawing his sword again, SNARLING this time-- growling in warning towards the sound. Whatever it was, it was CLOSE to Quat! And that was NOT acceptable!

"SHOW YOURSELF!" Trowa ROARED, the trees of the clearing shivering at the intensity of it.

A black-purple orb appeared at the edge of the clearing, over a pile of rocks, "This is the best I can do..." the voice said. “You have to trust me..."

"Duo?" Quatre asked, his head still foggy. He tried to look around Trowa, but he didn’t have the dragons’ ability to see in the dark.

"Hey Quat. Yeah it's me. You need to come in now," the orb said, glowing a little more violet so that Quatre could see it in the darkness.

 Trowa looked at the purplish orb, knowing strong magic when he saw it. He stood his ground, still quite protective around Quat, and glared at the orb for a moment, as if he might be able to sense its motive with a long enough glare.

Not detecting any malice directed at Quatre, though, Trowa grudgingly found it to be acceptable, and he turned to offer his hand to Quatre and help him up.

"Do you understand what he means, Quat? Come in?" Trowa asked.

Wufei walked towards them then, too. His stance was deceptively relaxed, his sword in hand and knife at his side. The look he wore was stony, the intensity in his onyx dragon eyes pure fire. "I'm ready," he said quietly, ready to follow.

Quatre was surprised at the change in Wufei. He had been asleep while Trowa and Wufei had spoken, but he wasn’t about to turn away an ally. Focusing on the task at hand, he nodded a little at Trowa’s question and walked towards the orb. “It’s safe. He’s here to help us,” he said, using Trowa for support, for the first few steps.

The ground beneath the orb suddenly opened up to reveal a set of stairs and the orb drifted down into the cavern, leading the way.

"... You need rest. Especially you, Kitty," the orb said. "There are cells here that are empty and no one would check. I made sure they were clean and the beds ... umm... fairly acceptable, given the conditions. Sleep and rest, when you’re ready, call for me."

 Trowa and Wufei only lingered long enough to grab their small travel packs before hurrying into the tunnel. Trowa moved right to Quatre's side, quickly trying to make sure the way was clear in the dark, burrow-like tunnel that they were moving in to, since Quat seemed so damn set in taking the lead! Soon, the walls of the tunnel began being supported by wood, and then became more stone than dirt and, after a good bit of walking, they came towards a door, hidden by a tapestry.

Trowa could sense that they must have been directly below the palace now and he was ready for close combat, having switched his sword for two daggers. He hoped that it would not come to that, though, because Trowa had taken over leading Quatre as the light from the exit waned and the pitch black of underground took hold.  Trowa didn't bother with a torch; His eyes shone easily enough.

Quatre's strength had not held up for long, and Trowa hefted him up onto his shoulders in a piggy-back to protect him as they moved through the hallways. Quatre protested the treatment and made Trowa put him down. He did, however, accept a shoulder to lean on.

Wufei stayed behind their Prince, making sure that their exit was always safe... and watching easily in the pitch black, his black eyes shining an almost unholy sheen in the blackness of the passageway.

The orb, soon enough, made three doors glow. "These are safe," the voice said in a wispy voice before disappearing entirely.

Quatre noticed that Wufei took the furthest door to the left as Quatre headed to the door closest to the castle. He was feeling a little light headed still, it would soon pass; he just needed a little rest. He headed toward the right-most door, leaving the middle cell for Trowa.

 Trowa looked at the middle door, then the one Quatre headed towards. After a moment of deliberation, he moved towards Quatre’s cell, ignoring the other empty one that had been left for him. He hesitated at the door, waiting to be asked in, hoping he would.

Quatre fell onto the bed, but when he felt that he wasn’t alone, he cracked an eye open and spied Trowa at the door. “Hello... are you going to keep me company?" he asked.

 Trowa smiled warmly and he moved towards him, and then carefully climbed onto the tiny cot. There wasn't a lot of space, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be near him. Trowa slowly wrapped his arm under him, and then urged Quatre back to use him as his pillow. He then wrapped his free arm around him protectively, a dagger in his hand to be used to protect his charge, if needed.

He was a Dragon. He didn't need sleep like Quatre did; he would be able to rest without really letting his guard down.

And that was what he did, the whole night.

When morning came, Trowa could sense a great shifting in the magic around the castle. Though they were deep in the dungeons, and could not see the sun, nor could they see the activity, being a beast of magical origin, he could feel the nearby humans and the frenzy of activity. At first, he worried if the people upstairs realized that their worst foe had been resting just underneath their feet, or if they sensed the danger that Quatre’s presence there foretold. But then he waved away the anxiety, Quatre didn’t pose a danger to the people. They were his subjects. In the time he’d gotten to know Quatre, he knew that Quatre didn’t hold anything against his people; it was his uncle with whom he had a feud.

A moment later, Wufei padded silently into the cell that Trowa and Quatre shared. He regarded the younger Dragon silently for a moment before speaking. “It feels like excitement, not anxiety” Wufei clarified, reading into Trowa’s thoughts easily, “Duo told us that there is to a great feast today and a banquet this evening, a coronation. There will be activity all day, but the coronation itself takes place at midnight, which marks the end of Quatre’s 30 days to contest the ruling. If we miss this window, he will have no ground to stand on and this will all have been for nothing. Heero and I have been discussing the plans in our dreamscape-“

Trowa glared a moment, upset that he had not been invited, but Wufei was unapologetic, giving a pointed look at the sill-sleeping Quatre, where Trowa’s attention clearly was. There was no denying the silent accusation, not with the way his arms were wrapped around Quatre. But, he wasn’t embarrassed about it either.  

Wufei smirked, knowing he had won the silent argument, and then continued, “We will begin getting to our positions at 11 tonight, when the giving of gifts is supposed to begin.”

Right about then, Quatre seemed to stir as well, feeling the building excitement in the castle as the maids began to wake and start the preparation for the massive banquet and caring for the hundreds of guests already in attendance. He looked at Trowa first, and then turned to Wufei.

Quatre sat up, and for the first time since they had met, Wufei bowed down.

Quatre was caught off guard at first, but smiled at that; it seemed that Wufei had finally swallowed his pride. It must have taken much for Wufei to admit to himself that he’d wronged his true king, and Quatre recognized the apology for what it was, without making a fuss. He acknowledged Wufei’s gesture and stood, and then called out for Duo. He had never seen this orb trick that his friend had apparently learned in Quatre’s absence, but for some reason he wasn’t exactly surprised. He’d known that Duo was special, thought not magically inclined; it was a surprise, to find out that Duo was not only a wielder of magic, but one this advanced! What exactly had happened while he was gone? Had Duo been able to do magic all along? Up until that day, Quatre had figured that Duo, like himself, was sensitive – but until he had been the target of a glamour, he’d had no idea that magic was very much alive and well in their time.

Why he’d never bothered to ponder the supposed magic of the castles where his sisters were kept, he didn’t know. Maybe because it hadn’t directly affected him. He shook his head, clearing it of the errant thoughts that had no place at the moment. He’d have ample time to ponder magic and its role, the practice of which his father had expressly forbidden in the city, later. AFTER he took his rightful place. He concentrated on his friend, he had done this, called for him like this hundreds of times before; he just had to concentrate on Duo, calling him with the center of his being and Duo would appear. He had always thought it a curious talent of Duo’s, always knowing when Quatre had need of him, but it wasn’t until just that moment that Quatre realized Duo’s coming to him had more to do with his friend’s talents, and less to do with how well they knew each other.

And this time was no exception. Within moments, Duo came into the room, in solid form, this time, with Heero in tow. Quatre made a gesture, inviting the two to join in with them, and after proper introductions, the young men sat together in the darkened room. If Quatre was being honest with himself, he would admit that perhaps he didn’t know Duo as well as he’d thought. He’d been in the dark about the extent of his abilities, which unsettled him. Why did Duo never trust him with this? Had Duo been anyone else, Quatre would have started to doubt even more about his friend, but… he had a feeling that the secret was kept for a reason, and that reason had little to do with Quatre himself. He’d push his questions aside for a while, they had another task at hand. His curiosity would have to wait.

With the castle coming to life, and people coming and going, they knew they needed to keep as quiet as possible to avoid any unwanted company so with the help of Duo’s magic and the Dragons’ natural talents, they opened a mental link. Together, the five of them spent the next several hours conferring and came up with a plan. A month ago, Quatre would never have believed such a thing was possible, but right then, he found himself going along without even questioning the ability to communicate with his friends through magical means. It was amazing how much he was now willing to accept, with little question or hesitation, after his own run in with magic.

Amir paced in the adjacent room to his suite as the hours dripped by, and there was still no sign of Quatre’s head.

As acting king, he was alerted the moment that a princess was liberated from her magical confines in castles Reed, Black, Ellis, and Grinstead. In the time since his brother’s passing, three princesses had been claimed, but it was the fourth, Quatre, that had put the knot in his stomach that would simply NOT go away.

Upon hearing that Quatre had fled Castle Reed, Amir had immediately taken steps to ensure that his nephew would not return.

He had sent out packs of knights, mercenaries, soldiers, and anyone he could PAY to go to the Princess castles to try and find Quatre and KILL her, but none of them could seem to make it past the dragons to even be able to report if she (he, Amir mentally corrected himself) was still even alive.  Sure, he could just wait until the time ran out, but he needed to eliminate the threat. He should have had Quatre killed immediately, but being the heir, and having people think him a princess, Amir would lose all favor. Yes, public opinion of Quatre had deteriorated when he’d made the common folk think that their prince was female, but he wouldn’t have been able to get away with a public execution. Not when Quatre was so loved. He had had little choice but to send Quatre away. His plan had been to assassinate him quickly, but he’d underestimated how fast those Dragons could travel. By the time his assassins were deployed, it was too late; Quatre had already been taken to a castle and it was impossible to locate one on a map!

With the knowledge that Quatre was out there somewhere, and with his men trying to hunt him down, Amir could not rest. He had never intended for Quatre to live, let alone reclaim the throne, but as of that moment, there was no way to know where Quatre was. He was not about to give up.

In a month, no one had been able to confirm Quatre’s whereabouts, even before he’d been made aware that Quatre had escaped. No news was not good news in this case, and so Amir decided to take his stress out once more on the reason for this trouble in the first place!

He walked through the castle and to the triple-locked doors of the Mistress’ suites. The room that attached to his suite had once been opulent and beautiful, but since he had locked the Sorceress into them, she had broken anything she could get her hands on, and used her potions to burn the curtains black and stain the once-white carpets deep blood red… Just like her dress.

Amir opened the door to her suites, and called for her, “Red witch! Can you find out if Quatre is dead yet?!”

Cathy was sitting at a scorched-black desk and measuring something when he burst in like that. There was FIRE in her eyes when he disturbed her calculations, and she turned on him with hate. She had once been a FREE witch, like every other she-dragon in the kingdom. The she-dragons worked hard to keep a low profile and, despite the small folk fearing them, they were often on good terms with the villagers.

Villagers with sick animals (or children) would come by for healing potions, or they would buy foraged or grown herbs from she-dragons. During the times of festivities, it was the she-dragons that lived outside the main villages that would put on light shows using their skills in combination with volatile elements and minerals that they would stuff into paper balls. These paper balls were then flung into the night sky and explode in dazzling, colorful filled arrays that would light up the night sky for scant moments with a loud bang! Catherine had been very skilled at putting on such shows and because of her flare for creating the most vibrant red colors in the sky, along with her natural red hair, she’d taken the moniker of “Red Witch” from a very young age.

But the days of being known for her light shows were long gone. She’d attracted too much attention – specifically, the attention of the king’s brother. In one fell swoop, her land, her home, her liberty, and her light shows were taken from her. She was bound to Prince Amir and she hated him with every fiber of her being.

But he was magically bound, and could not attack her Master. “I can, yes,” she answered venomously, turning back to what she was doing. She took every opportunity to be willful. She was a DRAGON and bound or not, she’d be damned if she just let that pathetic excuse for a man tell her what to do without putting up a fight and making him work for everything he ever asked of her.

“Well?” Amir asked impatiently. The woman, though beautiful, was nothing if not vexing. After years of keeping her, he understood why more of these she-devils were not bound as slaves, if they were all like this Red Witch. But he needed her. She was one of the strongest witches out there, even if she did squander her talents on frivolous light shows.

“I hope he is alive and well and coming to drive a sword through your heart!” Catherine sneered, not looking up from what she was doing. There was no magical bind that could keep her from insulting him, nor from being passively resistant. He didn’t order her to do anything, he’d just asked if she could find him, not to find him. She loved to exploit subtle difference in phrasing to confound the man that had taken her prisoner.

Amir lifted his wrist, and then twisted the metal bracelet he wore on his right wrist. The Dragon writing on it glowed, red, and then Cathy clasped her heart as pain seized her. Her eyes glowed with an unholy fire as she hissed, whirling to face Amir and glared at him. “Wretched MAN!” she roared, “Very well, I will cast a spell to find out if he lives or not, then!”

What Amir never realized, was that she was quite clever at giving him what he thought he wanted. She had no problem telling him if Quatre LIVED, but as long as Amir did not order her cast a locator spell to find out where he WAS, she could keep their plans a secret.  Cathy had long ago figured out that if she suggested what she could do, Amir would usually take the bait, and there was less risk that he would order her to do anything she did not want to do. It was always a gamble, but she’d learned to play him well. She was a dragon, after all, and like the Dragon Guard also magically bound to follow her Master’s orders. The difference was that she was much more spiteful about it and deliberately followed the letter of the order, and rarely the spirit of it.

Cathy went to scrying bowl and poured the contents of a pitcher into it. Selection one of her potions, she poured a few drops in, followed by a splash of another. Together, the liquids swirled and created a large cloud of dust in the air. The smoke let her focus better and her eyes shone as she put on a little show for Amir.

Unfortunately, she could not lie to her Master, but she could withhold details that he didn’t specifically ask for.

“Quatre Winner is still alive” She said, hiding fact that she saw far more than that. She had seen Quatre alright! And she’d seen TROWA too, right beside him! Quatre had been helping Trowa get into a servant’s cloak to blend in, and behind them were two people Cathy did not know, as well as Duo, who had just snuck back down there and was handing out more servant’s clothes. The small group looked very intent and oddly, they felt like they were closer than they should be. Like there was something binding them together. Curious – but not something Cathy could dwell upon thanks to her current audience.

Amir growled a little, disturbing her musings, “Can you see if he means to overthrow me?”

Cathy had to answer, but she didn’t have to be nice about it. “You mean, does he seek to take his rightful place? Of course he does. Who in their right mind would not want to overthrow the person who imprisoned them, in order to take back what is rightfully theirs? You already knew that, so why do you ask when you already know? Would you like me to tell you what color the sky is, as well, MASTER?” She sneered, huffing and rolling her eyes at him in a way she KNEW would anger him.

And, true to form, Amir growled, and turned the bracelet much more, sending Cathy to her knees with the pain of the punishment.  Then, Amir turned on his heels and moved out the room, slamming the door on his way and relocking it to keep her in there until he most needed her at his side.

The next time Cathy heard the locks move, she knew that it would be Amir coming to collect her before the coronation banquet. She knew everyone would be in attendance, to the point that anyone who went to bed early would be roused from their beds to bear witness to the event. Given the number of people and the growing threat to his person, real or imagined, Amir would want his best protection at his side. The only thing that surprised her is why she wasn’t summoned earlier.

She had an idea of what would happen; she had had a hand in orchestrating part of it by training Duo in secret, so she deliberately left behind the additional talismans and amulets that she normally carried on her person so she could not call on them. If questioned, she would claim that vanity got the better of her and that she wanted to look elegant for the coronation. Amir would notice, though, if she didn’t bring her staff, so she had to keep it. Truth be told, she never went anywhere without it. It was part of her, but that evening, its power had been drained considerably, and deliberately, from having cast so many spells all day. She didn’t care that she was going into what she knew would turn into a battle being as vulnerable as she was at that moment. If she was caught in the crossfire or if she was overpowered, she would be happy; she had already spent the entire day watching her dear little brother. She had not laid eyes on him since he was taken and she missed him dearly. If she would be ended that night, Catherine was content with the knowledge that her brother seemed happy and in good health at the rightful king’s side.

When she was summoned, she walked out of the confines of her room, head held high, with her staff at her side, and her dress as skin-tight as ever. Some said her choice of gown was indecent, but she liked it that way. The fabric was dyed a deep crimson that shimmered in the candlelight with a vividly orange hem. The orange hem was augmented by copper and gold stitch work, dotted with rubies, which transitioned from the orange band to the crimson dress, so that it looked like fire itself was licking at her heels as she walked.

Wufei was the first to move into the large reception room. He was dressed in Dragon garb, pretending to be the guard of one of the dignitaries who was sitting in the room, quite bored by now. The night had been long, and the dinner had been boring.

Amir gave speeches, and toasts and more toasts until most of them were already drunk enough to be in bed, but he kept them all awake and in attendance. He would not be crowned until midnight, and they were all there to bear witness. Matters were further compounded by talk that would soon be treasonous. Amir was not very well regarded, and though tradition forbade it, many in the peerage agreed that having a female Quatre would have been preferable to having Amir as their sovereign.

As he studied his surroundings, Wufei got his first glimpse at the despot as he stealthily ducked out of the procession line of well-wishers, and his blood pumped HOT. The man was seated atop a dais at the very end of the large opulent reception hall. Around him the hall had been decorated and set up with five long tables, each still laden with the remnants of supper. He sat high above everyone else, overlooking everyone in the room, and he DARED to sit on Omar Winner’s own throne! The throne that rightfully belonged to Quatre!

Behind Amir stood a beautiful sorceress — and the moment Wufei’s anger piqued, she turned and looked directly at him, her vibrant purple eyes locking on to him. There was instant recognition in her gaze. She knew who he was and at that moment, Wufei knew he’d been discovered. One dragon recognized another, opposing one - and for a heartbeat, dragon energy pulsed in the room, though it was too subtle for humans to detect.

In that instant, Wufei thought that it was over, the plan had failed, and Amir would win. He was certain that she was going to call the guards for him, and they would lose their edge.

Instead, Wufei stood frozen, almost missing the hint when she flicked her eyes to the left, pointing out a guard that was coming near.  She was warning him, he realized, and after a quick nod, Wufei continued to move towards the edge of the room, avoiding the notice of a sleepy guard along the way. Apparently the guards had been drinking wine, too! How vulgar. He found his way to the wall and slowly, he made his way along it, undetected, with his eye on the two large main doors. As soon as the others were inside, he would need to close them in order to stop reinforcements from coming in.

Their plan was had been set in motion like clockwork. He had only been in position for a few moments when Wufei spied a peddler coming into the hall with a basket of flowers, presumably to sell. He hadn’t moved very far when he tripped just a little, and out from his hood swung the tell-tale braid of the Prince’s friend and apprentice sorcerer. A hand from the crowd reached out to right him, before withdrawing. It belonged to a man wearing peasant clothes, seemingly escorting him; that had to have been Heero. Thankfully no one noticed the braid right away, and if they did, it was of no concern.

Wufei let out a breath, heart hammering at having nearly been discovered. He wasn’t cut out for subterfuge, he decided.  

Crisis averted, the dragon kept an eye on the procession of villagers, servants, and the like as they walked in and were directed to where they would be allowed to stand to watch the coronation. He was vigilant in his watch and tracked Duo’s movements; he was the only one in their group that he’d had visual confirmation of, after all. It was another few moments when he realized that right behind Duo, two more figures had entered the room and were making sure to stay fairly close to him. One wore a dull brown riding cloak, and looked rather bulky. Wufei had to assume that was Trowa, the cloak to cover his deep red dragon armor. Beside him was a smaller figure; this one struggling as he attempted to hold his head covering in place amongst the crowd that kept jostling him. That’s when Wufei realized that that particular head covering hid bright blonde hair under it, the rest of the figure obscured by a sand white cloak.  

It was time!

Wufei moved to close the doors as soon as he realized Trowa and Quatre had passed the threshold, but just then, Amir stood up and raised his hands, halting the procession.

“It is almost midnight! Rejoice you all, for you have been granted an honor and will all bear witness to the crowning of the new King!” Amir said, his voice booming. The sound of his voice waking a few of the older courtiers who had let themselves fall asleep.

Wufei began to worry; it was not midnight yet! Amir was being hasty in his excitement (and anxiety)! It was too soon - Quatre was still in woman’s form!

“Come, priest, and say the words!” Amir called out to an old man who was standing nearby, on his left side. He looked rather sullen over the whole thing, an angry look in his eyes, but resignation washed over his face as he took a few steps forward. He held the crown in his hands on a pillow. It was the crown of Amir Winner, and his job was to put it on Amir’s head and bow to him.

“We are all here,” the priest began, “To bear witness to the crowning of our King!”

The courtiers in attendance knew what to say. But Quatre surprised his friends when he too joined in on the chorus of “Long Live the King!”

Trowa’s eyes flicked to Quatre in worry, but what he saw on the blonde’s face was an expression of pure determination and focus.  The sight made Trowa smirk, and he began to ready himself to fight, his hand moving oh-so-slowly to curl around the hilt of his sword.

The Priest then began to read out the line of Heraldry, “Amadar Winner; Uniter of the five kingdoms. Quartine Winner; Bringer of Commerce! Solomon Winner, the Wise!”

Quatre’s heart filled with pride, hearing his ancestors, and his grandfather’s name… and he stood a little straighter, getting ready.

This had not been the plan, but they would make do anyway.

“Omar Winner, Bringer of Peace!” The priest said, almost in bitter accusation as he glared at Amir, but he held up Omar’s crown even as he said it.

Quatre knew the next line. It would be Amir’s name, and he would be given the directive to earn a title that would bring honor to the land, but Quatre would not let the next words be spoken. He pushed through the crowd in front of him, seeking to get closer. With Trowa not far behind, they’d unconsciously made way for Quatre, but luckily, they were rather vocal about being pushed out of the way.

“And” the priest began, as Amir knelt down to one knee to receive the crown, but his next words were cut off by the stir from the crowd that had, up until a moment ago, been silent.

When Quatre noticed that the priest’s attention was diverted towards him, Quatre pulled the cloak off his face, uncaring that to all those around him, he was still in female form. He broke out of the procession line, and jumped atop a table in the banquet hall, drawing two curved swords. The swords were unmistakable, wielded only by Quatre Winner himself, and he yelled, “AND QUATRE WINNER!”  

He stood tall for all to see, declaring himself for who he was. Glamour spell be damned! There was a buzz among the people around him, but they all kept their distance. No one wanted to get in the way of those curved blades.

Amir jumped to his feet so fast, he knocked the crown out of the priest’s hands, and he fumbled for his sword, roaring, “STOP HIM! HER! STOP HER! Get that lying WOMAN! GUARDS!”

That was when Wufei moved, pushing the heavy door on the left closed with the speed and strength only a Dragon possessed. He had already closed the one on the right, while the crowd had been distracted by Amir’s speech, getting both doors closed, and then threw down the bar to stop any interference.

The three human castle guards near the door moved in on him, drawing their swords, but they were no threat. Wufei let out a ROAR that shuddered through the whole castle, shaking the very stones, and he charged at the men. His sword was drawn and at the ready with magic flowing around him that looked like huge white WINGS of a dragon streaming behind him as he cut down one after another with precise, though non-lethal blows. “You will heed YOUR KING!” he bellowed, the air around him crackling, making the magical dragon wings shimmer.

Quatre grinned, and he took off running along the top of the long table towards Amir, his cape billowing behind him as he dashed, going right for his uncle, the usurper!

Amir looked to Cathy, and screamed, “KILL HER!”

Cathy just GRINNED, and stood there examining her nails for any trace of dirt, “There’s no ‘her’ for me TO kill, Master!”

“KILL HIM! KILL QUATRE!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, “KILL HIM! I ORDER YOU!”

The courtiers heard. Some gasped. There was no mistaking what had been said. Amir, the regent, had just ordered the death of Quatre, the heir.

The damage could not be undone, however. The magic in the armband he wore that bound all Dragons to their masters was already starting to compel her to take her staff out and move towards the Prince.

Duo and Heero threw their own capes off, discarding them quickly. Heero snarled like a beast, and LAUNCHED himself at the nearest guard, using fists first to avoid the worst of the bloodshed.

Duo was focused on his best friend, though, and he saw the Red Witch suddenly compelled to move for her staff.

Now that he understood, Duo could feel the magic that compelled her.

It made sense now. He suddenly understood why she needed to teach him how to stop her. She couldn’t disobey her Master. He had ordered her to kill Quatre, and the only one who stood a chance at stopping her was Duo himself. Duo grinned. He would be able to use his magic openly, for the first time in his life!

The red witch threw a bolt of magic at the Prince, sending him staggering back, but the shot was half-hearted at best. She was struggling to fight the compulsion and aiming to miss was not going to work! She had been ordered to kill, and if her magic was low, she couldn’t do it from this far away. She began to stalk closer, like a cobra, mesmerizing her prey. 

That’s when a huge black mass of magic came BARELLING into her from the side, throwing Cathy off the path to Quatre and slamming her into a wall. Duo’s eyes blazed indigo as he pushed against her, channeling more and more black energy against her to keep her at bay. He did not intend to harm her, but he did intend to contain her. At least until the Usurper could be eliminated.

Heero quickly moved in to take point protecting his lov – over Duo. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted! Duo was the only sorcerer they had on their side and he needed protection from the guards that began to descend on Quatre and anyone allied with him. Heero would not let anything happen to Duo. HIS Duo.

It only took a few moments before Quatre regained his footing, and took his stance again, glaring at Amir as he flipped one curved sword around in his hand to get a better grip. He was quite adept with his scimitars, and was known for his use of them.  

And then, he was shoved back down again, this time from the behind, as an arrow flew past him. He was laying on the table, having managed not to fall off, with a heavy burden on his back. The weight came off as Trowa stood and it was then that Quatre was able to look back at the place on the table where he had stood only a moment ago and saw an arrow buried deeply into the grain of the wood. He realized, with a sickening lurch of his stomach, that it would have pierced right through his heart! If his uncle meant to kill him, so be it. There was a fitting punishment for that.

With a ROAR of shrieking FURY, Trowa’s energy around him began to pulse as he moved from where he’d yanked the man he loved down.  The chandelier and every water glass in the room EXPLODED from the force of his power as he let out his anger that someone would try and hurt HIS man! The fact that Quatre had het to reciprocate his declaration of love had little baring. Trowa stood, helping Quatre back to his feet, allowing Quatre to regain his balance for a second time that night.

Trowa unsheathed his sword and dagger, and pulsing red, spindly-looking wings of magical energy that looked very familiar to the red witch branched out from behind him and expanded until his power wrapped completely around his lover in protection.

Quatre felt Trowa’s magic engulf him, and the next arrow that flew towards him was bounced off and was left, scorched uselessly, on the ground. Any sword that moved towards him rebounded with double the force it had been wielded with, sending men flying back and splayed out for Heero and Wufei to take care of, if they dared try to stand again.

“That is MY throne!” Quatre bellowed, moving with confidence now across the table with Trowa following behind him like a shadow. He had recovered his scimitars after having been barreled over. Anyone who had stood between him and the dais began to move away, giving Quatre and his company a wide berth.

Amir finally managed to unsheathe his own sword, and stood, ready to defend “You are not FIT! You are a woman!” he yelled.

“So you would have everyone believe,” Quatre said with a deadly sort of calm in his voice, bolstered by the sheer amount of magic in the room. “And if I was, I am still the CROWNED HEIR until midnight tonight.” Quatre took his stance, holding his swords in front of him and finally close enough to move off the table—but instead of hopping off, Trowa’s magic kept him walking straight over air, and across to the dais that Amir presided on.

Just then… the first bell of the large clock let out a loud, resounding CHIME.

Amir grinned, “It’s midnight.”

CHIME.  Quatre moved towards him anyway, but he suddenly doubled over in pain. It was then that he realized he was ensnared. He caught a glimpse of Duo trying to hold the red witch back, but the command that she’d been given was too compelling for her to fight. Her own magic was drained, but it was then that Quatre realized her staff was glowing and linked to the protective orb that Trowa had placed upon him. The snare was new, but as the chimes resounded, the magic that bound him, the glamour that had fooled everyone, began to shift.

CHIME. Amir let out a hearty laugh, and moved to find the crown that had fallen to the ground. He was confident that Quatre would no longer be his problem!

CHIME.  Quatre let out a scream that started high pitched to those who heard it, but then the pitch dropped down to a low tenor as the glamour faded, little by little. The magic that ensnared him had been intended to protect him, and now he could do nothing against the burning on his skin.

CHIME. Amir saw the crown, and he scrambled towards it.

CHIME. Quatre felt to one knee as the magic robbed him of his breath. To the spectators, they only saw a shimmer around Quatre, his body changing before their eyes. Meanwhile, invisible flames racked his body, making his skin to crawl even as he futilely tried to get away. That was when Trowa realized that his magic was not his own, and that it was HIS magic, his protective sphere that was now being used to burn his charge. Helplessly, Trowa turned and spied Cathy, holding Duo’s magic at bay with one hand and the red amber jewel at the top of her staff pressing against the magical barrier that Trowa had erected. In that moment, his eyes met with his sister’s, the sister he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade, and he knew that she couldn’t be blamed. She had been ordered to kill Quatre and there was nothing SHE could do about it. But Trowa could.

CHIME. Amir found the crown! He reached forward and grasped it with his right hand, and stood up tall, “The crown is MINE!” He stood up, and moved to put the crown on his own head if need be!

CHIME. Trowa moved from behind Quatre, his sword drawn, and he gripped the hilt as he SLASHED upwards, splitting bone and blood and flesh.

CHIME. Amir screamed in pain as his hand was severed, retreating into himself and cradling the bleeding limb as the crown clanked to the ground.

CHIME. The bracelet that bound Cathy to her Master clanked helplessly to the floor. The sorceress felt her own magic SWELL to her, now under her own control. She withdrew her staff from Trowa’s protective barrier, instantly freeing Quatre, who knelt on the floor, panting, trying to regain his bearings. His head swam and his vision was blurred, but his skin no longer felt like it was on fire. Cathy pushed away from Duo’s Magic and instead turned her skills onto any remaining guards who dared challenge the rightful king!

CHIME. Quatre stood, scimitars at the ready. He didn’t have time to feel pain, he didn’t have TIME to feel weak. He continued up the dais, every nerve on fire, and with blades poised, he stood victorious overtop of his cowering uncle. He drew his sword, and pointed it right at his throat, DARING him to try anything else now. He pressed his advantage and his blade against the sweaty skin, drawing a drop of blood from the tip of his Uncle’s Adam’s apple, and he smirked at the irony of it as he said, “Will you now claim that you were defeated by a woman?”

Then, the final CHIME rang, and the last of the glamour magic evaporated from around Quatre, showing everyone in the room that he was fully and always had been male.  Quatre bent down to retrieve his father’s crown from the dead fingers of his uncle, and he looked at it for a moment, considering its importance. It’s heritage. It’s ancestry. It was rightfully his. But, this, with all the bloodshed, without the blessing of the ceremony, it was simply not the way.

Quatre turned around, and walked to the Priest, who had watched the whole thing. Quatre stood in front of him, holding the crown delicately, “This is to be granted only to the rightful heir of the Winner house, and it is to be done in a ceremony that reflects that honor and tradition.  He then passed the crown over to him with a warm smile, “I leave the tradition of crowning a king in your capable hands, Master Priest” and he let go of the crown to turn and face the room.

He still held the blades in his hands, but the fighting had been dying down as more and more people were stopping in their tracks to look at the spectacle on the dais.

“Guards. Servants. Courtiers. Priests. Sorcerers. And Dragons,” Quatre called out, holding everyone’s attention as all eyes in the room fell to him where he stood, obstructing the view of his pitiful uncle. “A little over thirty days ago, a great man left our kingdom and passed into the next world. But instead of honoring such a great king, his legacy was denied and a usurper made a grasp for power that he did not deserve. My father suffered a great wrong on the eve of his death, but tonight, that wrong has been righted.” Quatre spoke with a new found confidence in his voice. He stood taller, and continued, “Now, it time for us all to mourn, to honor his memory, and heal.” Quatre paused and looked to Wufei, who bowed in respect, “We shall rebuild what was broken in his memory and we shall have a proper coronation when it is deemed correct by the court and there are no further objections!”

The Priest moved then, up to the Dias, regarding Quatre silently. Quatre didn’t move, but let himself be studied. The priest stood there, holding the crown on the pillow, and nodded a little in approval.

“I, as Priest of the castle, vouch for this person. HE is Prince Quatre Raberba Winner, whom I have taught from childhood! All, Come and see for yourself!” He called.

A few courtiers from around the room moved forward, to take a closer look. One even had the gall to ask to look down his shirt, which Quatre allowed ONCE before Trowa moved in and threatened to deck anyone else who dared. Once several courtiers had gotten a closer look, people began to move back, respectfully.

The priest smiled, and called out again, “Will anyone present vouch for Prince Quatre’s identity?”

“I!” called out one voice, loud and strong. “I!” another chimed in, “And I!”, “And I!” chorused out through the room until there begun a slow, rhythmic chant, “Quat. Ra. Quat. Ra. Quat. Ra!”

Heero moved over towards Duo, and wrapped his arms around his best friend’s middle in a hug, looking up at the dais, and they chimed in, stomping and calling out “QUAT RA! QUAT RA!”

“QUAT RA!” Cathy said around a grin, clapping along… concentrating her magic so it would crawl up the sides of the walls, and EXPLODE in light and color across the room in bright fizzing spectacles of light and flash, “QUAT RA!”

Quatre stood on the dais, overwhelmed with support. He felt a warmth in his chest, a power pulsing through him that made him giddy. With a bright smile on his face, he turned behind him and glimpsed a figure just over his shoulder. Trowa stood there, always close, as if ready for when he would be needed. Watching him, supporting him, and loving him in whatever Quatre would do, Trowa was loyal to a fault. And, giving him a smirk, he clapped with the cheer, speaking in time, “Quatre! Quatre!”

The priest didn’t try to hush the commotion! He was just so proud to have the rightful heir back where he should be, standing in front of his people and doing what they needed him to do.  The priest moved forward, and touched Quatre’s shoulder.

Knowing what to do, Quatre moved down to bended knee, panting a little at the realness of it all. The Priest began to say the words long practiced and Quatre, having learned what to do by heart since he was a child, played his part, as he always knew he would. When the last name of his ancestor given, Omar Winner, Quatre heard the Priest say “May you, Quatre Winner, wear this crown and earn your own name for your value to this kingdom!”

The crown felt disarmingly light against his head. It fit atop his head at a bit of a tilt, but sat there snugly, as if that was where it had been meant to be all along.

Quatre stood up, and looked out as he people.

And they all screamed out, “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duo walked into Quatre’s study and dropped himself on the chair like a sack of potatoes, happy that no one could tell him not to, now that he was the official royal manservant. And, almost like a shadow, Heero calmly filed in behind him, and stood just to his left. The man was nothing if not constant and dedicated; a silent watch dog to the antics of his braided friend.

“SO, King-Quat!” Duo sang.

Quatre groaned at that. Not ANOTHER nickname!

Duo laughed at his own joke, and then smacked Heero, telling him to lighten up and laugh too, hut Heero replied with a grunt, “Hn,” and otherwise ignored him. Duo rolled his eyes, noticed that food had been set up on a table in the corner of the room and decided to go investigate.

The exchange, however, did get a laugh from Wufei, who filed into the office followed closely by Cathy.  Wufei bowed to the king, and then began his report, “We have now been to all of the Winner controlled castles, and have released all remaining princesses within. The Dragons that were bound to their castle have been given the option to stay at their castles and become part of the Winner army, or to go and make their own lives in the kingdom with your blessing as soon as their charges are delivered home safely.”

Quatre smiled at that and thanked Wufei. It had been less than a week since his coronation, and there had been many things that Quatre had need to address. The first order of business was to do something about the enslaved dragons he’d come to respect – and his sisters.

That afternoon, Quatre had asked for a light lunch to be served while he received his friends in his study; he’d been neglecting them in the last few days, and Quatre had made it known that he would make time to listen to just them – no other courtiers or petitioners in that hour.

Cathy, meanwhile, made herself at home, taking the time to collect a plate and pile on some finger sandwiches as well as some slices of fruit while she waited for Wufei to finish his report. Once he was done and Quatre had given him a nod, a signal to help himself to whatever was on the trays that had been set up, she decided to speak up, “Your Majesty… I have noticed that there is a far more suitable workspace for my skills in the North tower that I wish to clean up and take over, if it please you. While the mistress’ suites attached to your room are nice and all, I have ill feelings towards them. You understand, I hope? I would much prefer to be able to work peace, and have my own door to come and go as I please, so I ask that you grant me permission to move.”

“Glady!” Quatre said, smiling warmly at her and then his eyes flicked to Wufei. He wondered if he would need to be changing Wufei’s dwelling rooms pretty soon as well, since he seemed to have taken to staying quite close to the Dragon sorceress lately, but then decided take the decision out of his hands. “Wufei, I would like you to find a suitable room in the North Tower as well. I can’t very well let our new sorceress unguarded and I would entrust her safety to no one before you.”

Duo grinned, and flopped back down onto the chair he’d recently vacated, “Well then, on that note, Heero is moving into my rooms with me.”

“He already was” Quatre replied, lifting a brow and rolling his eyes.

Duo painted on a huge grin, “I know, I just wanted to rub it in some more.” He stuffed a meat pie in his mouth and then he stood up, taking Heero’s hands, “Come on, let’s go help Cathy move! You’re strong and stuff, and I don’t mind the smell of charcoal, I think we’re perfect for the job!”

“Duo, don’t eat with your mouth full,” Quatre reminded him, laughing when Duo choked.

Heero slapped him on the back a couple of times until Duo recovered and continued on about moving, dragging Heero out with him. Cathy took her plate with her, following behind the pair, intent on nibbling while she watched the three strong young men work.

Wufei let out a huff, muttering something about them ‘breaking’ something, and followed out after them all, and closed the door behind them. Quatre found it amusing that he had not objected.

Quatre was quiet for a minute, but oh so slowly he let a smile begin to blossom on his face.

Quatre turned around in his chair, and looked behind him and just to the left, where Trowa stood silent and ever-present, though partially hidden in shadow, as usual. Trowa didn’t seem to be interested in the spread that had been set out for them for the midday meal.

Quatre locked eyes with him and he stood, forgetting about lunch too. He walked over to his most loyal guard and reached out gently, touching Trowa’s shoulder as he got near.

Trowa’s expression began to melt, moving closer to touch Quatre’s hip and gently tug him closer.

The first few days had been chaotic – and all the while, Quatre knew that Trowa was waiting for him patiently. He didn’t know how this would work, but now, he had the luxury of being a little bit selfish. Trowa had not left his side since they’d left Castle Reed, and though their nights had been spent in each other’s company, neither had dared to speak of what lay between them.

Quatre had intended to spend this time with his friends, whom he’d seen little of since his coronation, but they apparently had other plans. Not that Quatre minded. He now had Trowa’s undivided attention, and he needed to address this... but where to start?

Quatre looked up at his loyal dragon for another heartbeat, hand still on his shoulder, the other now resting on Trowa’s firm bicep. His breath sped up and there could be no mistaking the look of pure affection and adoration that he was giving his handsome protector. Moving in slightly, the king closed his eyes, and Trowa leaned in, bringing their lips together in a searing, hungry kiss.

Trowa groaned when they broke apart, but instead of pulling away, Quatre leaned comfortably against him. He moved his arms to wrap around the slender waist as he whispered, “When she is gone, I was hoping that, well… You would do me the honor of moving in to the mistress’ suite. It would be nice.  It would give you a place of your own to train and keep your things, a place to work… “

Trowa laughed gently, pulling Quatre tighter against him, “Quat… you know that the only thing that I want is you.” He tilted Quatre’s face up and gave him a disarming smile, which made Quatre melt.

Quatre flushed just a little, but nodded, “I know. And when I get the locks that Amir put in removed, at any time, you can walk right into my room. They’re adjoining. You can sleep in my bed or you stay in your own, and no one would be the wiser. What do you say? Will you take the Mistresses’ suites?”

Trowa couldn’t help but smile softly, and he leaned down, pressing one more soft, heartbreaking kiss against his lips, before he breathed, “Fine Quat. I’ll do whatever you’d like. Forever. And Always. I love you, and I’m yours.” Trowa hummed.

“My Dragon” Quatre replied, melting further into his embrace. They had been close in the days following his coronation, as in, Trowa was always one step behind Quatre, but it wasn’t until right then that Quatre had let his guard down and had invited Trowa to get closer. He felt a pang in his heart. He knew how the dragon had felt about him – had known since that night he’d escaped from the enchanted castle. He’d used this dragon’s heart, and his affection to take back his kingdom, and now it was time to reward him.

Quatre reached up to the dragon band that Trowa still wore and touched it. The metal glowed under his fingertips and fell to the ground, but instead of happiness, Quatre saw panic in those green eyes that had seen Quatre through so much.

“I free you, Trowa, but I want you to remain here and willingly be MY Dragon,” he whispered. Trowa was the last one of his kind to have been freed, and though he felt badly for that, he knew that this was not something Trowa would take lightly. He kept his arms wrapped around Trowa’s waist and waited. “Will you stay with me, even though you’re free to go?” he asked.

Trowa’s arms moved around Quatre again too, and he pulled him in so that Quatre’s head was tucked just under Trowa’s. He dropped an affection-filled kiss to the blonde’s hair, and smiled softly, “I will. You are my Protected. My Beloved, My Princess.”

“I love you too,” Quatre whispered for the first time. The very first time of many, many more to come.

~~ And together, they lived Happily Ever After~~~