"To be King "

Written By: Dentelle_noir

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the characters, GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit

Rating: R

Warnings: Shonen-ai, Revenge, Tribal-war, AU, Adventure.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2

Summary: The Barton tribe was exiled from their home, forced to live in the bowels of the jungle by the usurping Winner Tribe. But they will get their revenge. The successor of their tribe will grow strong and hard, and he will take back their homeland.

" To be King "

Part Two

The Hunting party stalked through the brush, anxious to bag an antelope or perhaps even a Zebra. Each hunter of the 6 member team took up a position in a rough circle, waiting for prey and watching for trouble at the same time. Four of the hunting party were new, no older than 12 or 13 summers. That was why they were hunting with Heero and Duo, the Winner clan’s best warrior and tracker respectively.

But despite the strength and instincts of the two seasoned hunters and the extra eyes and ears of the boys, none noticed the stalking presence of the group of leopards until they were surrounded on all sides. The largest cat pounced out into the circle, digging her massive claw into the arm of one of the young hunters. Heero shot out and wrenched the boy from the leopard’s grips, landing a swift wound to the beast with his knife to warn her off.

But the scent of blood was in the air.

The beasts pounced out of the grasses and attacked, sinking their jaws into the flesh of the frozen rookies. Duo impaled one with his staff, wrenching the beast off the training hunter. With nothing else to do, Duo moved to protect the huddled youngsters and took stance with Heero, moving defensively around them in a rough circle of protection.

From a tree above the scene, eyes as green as the lush foliage around him, narrowed to take in the scene. He waited. Watching. The leopards took swats at the two predominant warriors, their skills showing as they kept the hissing cats back. But the young hunters were frozen and helpless from fear and were easy prey for the leopards who made it past the warriors. One of the warriors would attack the cat, snatching the young away from its claws before they could drag the child into the forest, but the Warriors were far out matched.

The cats had the Winner’s backed up against a tree and were advancing, leaving the hunting party nowhere to run.

Sanguine, the queen of this leopard tribe, crouched low and pounced, taking down Heero in a mass of claws and teeth. Duo screamed, desperate to help the other, but frantically trying to fight off three determined leopards attacking him and the young.

Now was the perfect time to intervene.

Trowa dropped down from the tree with a howl, wrenching out his long jagged knife and diving into the melee, teeth bared. He sunk a kick into one leopard’s side and managed to drag his dagger across another’s shoulder. He left the other to Duo and moved over to Sanguine. Using all his strength and experience to dig his hands into her neck, he wrenched her off the warrior with one mighty haul, and flung her into a tree with another savage roar that echoed into the very core of the jungle.

Duo delivered a killing blow to one to one of the attackers, and, taking a page out of the book of the stranger, dug his foot into the side of another and kicked it away. Sanguine yowled in anger and leapt into the forest, her defeated pride following her into the underbrush moments after their leader departed leaving the party alone.

Heero was the first to recover, brining his knife up to defend against the tall stranger.

Trowa raised a brow cockily and absently began to twirl his knife around his wrist. “That is not a very good way to say thanks to someone who saved your life.”

“Who are you?” Heero demanded, sliding over to cover Duo and the boys while keeping his eye trained on the foreign warrior.

Trowa did not move, but answered anyway, the words flowing from his mouth as easily as they had during hundreds of practices. “My name is Trowa. I left the Barton tribe in hopes of joining with the Winners” to kill your leader and wreak our vengeance, He mentally added.

Heero lifted a skeptical brow, ready to set his knife straight into Trowa’s chest, but Heero didn’t want the attack to backfire; he had to admit to himself (but no one else) that he did not come out of that leopard match unscathed. Eying up the rival warrior, unharmed from the fight and physically larger, Heero had to admit that he would be... challenging.

Duo seemed to defuse the situation quickly, walking over to the outsider and depositing one bloody hunter-in-training into his startled arms and hefting another onto his own back. The other two young hunters were able to walk and began helping each other straggle back to camp.

Heero took his cue and hefted the slain leopard onto his own back. With a snarl of warning to the stranger, lest he entertain the notion that he was welcome, Heero moved to follow the braided tracker, leading dinner, wounded, and an outsider back home.

Duo was going to hear about this later...

XxXxX

The whole Winner tribe stopped their daily activities when children came running into the village warning them of the morbid procession. Duo broke through the trees first, carrying the boy with the deep slashes in his calves. Next came the two wounded boys together, then, breaking the tree line in unison (for Heero would not allow the outsider to beat him in) came Heero hauling the leopard and a stranger carrying a badly wounded boy like a rag doll.

Amar flew out of his tent the moment he heard and sent Iria, his healer daughter, out to see to the hunters.

KILL! Trowa’s very blood screamed. The disgustingly displayed wealth that the old man dripped attested that he was the backstabbing traitor himself. But Trowa calmed himself within moments. He needed to get close enough to strike, and needed to be trusted enough to allow time for his tribe to attack. He had to keep calm and unobtrusive until his tribe was ready to strike.

While Trowa was centering himself a woman with bright blonde hair tied high upon her head walked over to him without a moment’s hesitation and directed him to deposit the wounded boy onto a clean skin and began examining the boy, sparing not a glance at Trowa.

Suddenly, seeing those locks of hair, Trowa’s own private fantasy came to mind. He would kill Amar, take back their territories, and set himself as king--then he would find that boy...and perhaps...if the boy didn’t hate him too much... Quatre... would still be able to be friends... He desperately wanted to meet the boy again, even under the circumstances.

Trowa was startled out if his most secret musings with Duo’s boisterous voice talking to the gathered masses, “He said his name is Trowa. He just came out of nowhere and began to attack the leopards, saving all of our lives. There was this huge leopard on top of Heero and he slashed her, and” Duo dipped down to grab at one of the swarming children to lift him up high as Trowa had Sanguine, “And he flung her off Heero like he was a lion himself! With a ROAR!” Duo imitated.

All the curious little faces turned to Trowa abruptly, peering to get a look at him. Trowa was about to give the fools a lion-like snarl to scare them witless, when Heero moved into flank the children, “He is not one of us.” He sneered, “An Outsider, not to be trusted. We will give you payment for your help, but you don’t belong here.”

Trowa bristled at the clear dismissal. Heero was his biggest obstacle to his plan. The warrior was an outsider himself, from the obviously dark hair and slightly slanted eyes. Those who had been shunned often understood the rules for inclusion better then anyone else. And they rigidly upheld those rules.

Amar, the respected leader, moved to stand between Heero and Duo. He ran his deep blue eyes over Trowa critically, then asked “Tell us who you are, Stranger, and why you are here?”

“My name is Trowa. I left the Barton tribe in hopes of joining with the Winners,” he answered smoothly, the same fluid answer ingrained into his tongue from hours and hours of practice. Trowa hoped that his bravery would speak for him; allowing the weak backstabbing king to let him get close enough to complete his mission.

XxXxX

Amar was suspicious. He knew in his gut that the boy had ulterior motives, but he did not know what they were. He was not talking, obviously. He would not allow the boy near the tribe until he knew the warriors true intensions...but with the injury of 4 of their young hunters, Amar knew that the assistance of another trained warrior would be helpful, even if they couldn’t trust him completely.

“For your help, I will grant you non-hostility for now. I reserve judgment.” Amar declared, his eyes boring deep into the Barton Warrior’s eyes-- Eyes which watched back blankly and cold as a beast. Amar did not trust the warrior, but there was wisdom in keeping your enemies close.

The tribe went on about their work, tending to the wounded, finishing daily work, and seeing to the meat. Amar took a seat outside his tent this time, anxiously keeping an eye on the Outsider while he oscillated between watching Trowa for his plans or killing him now.

XxXxX

Duo moved towards Trowa and touched his arm. Trowa flinched violently, preparing for an attack from the boy. Duo’s face widened in shock at such a reaction, so he froze in place and explained carefully, “You should come with me to the healer’s. She can look at any wounds you got.”

Trowa crossed his arms angrily, mad at causing himself to stick out so much with his reactions, and glared at the braided tracker, “I was not injured.” He replied coldly.

Duo lifted a brow, but didn’t comment at the obvious scratch across the warriors forearm, and instead turned on his heels and moved towards the skins the healer set up to check on the injured boys.

“I don’t like him.” Heero said coldly from behind Amar. The king of the tribe had long since learned not to startle at his best warrior’s habit of dropping in without a sound. Amar nodded in agreement, watching the foreign warrior stand in the middle of the village and rake his eyes over every inch of their stronghold, as if categorizing its weaknesses and strengths. The man rankled of a spy to Amar’s sensitive nature.

It was too much. Damn trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Amar stood, ready to be rid of the warrior, when something suddenly changed.

Iria called for more poultice, and out from the healer’s tent came Quatre, Amar’s youngest son. He handed his sister the medicine, and moved to check on his best friend himself when, just short of Duo, he stopped.

The Barton warrior froze his eyes to Quatre, his posture tightening and...if Amar’s eyes didn’t believe it, he swore for only a moment, that the Barton warrior’s cheeks pinked.

XxX

Trowa had to control his breath; there he was, standing just as beautiful as he remembered, with a face and hair and smile exactly as it had been when they met as children. Trowa thought he felt his entire being lurch, just at one look.

Quatre broke into a wide grin, radiating joy, “TROWA!” and without a moment’s hesitation ran towards the warrior and wrapped his arms around him unabashed.

Trowa went ridged, not knowing what to do with himself as the object of his most secret fantasies embraced him like a long lost friend, or lover. But after a moment, Trowa closed his eyes and allowed his body to respond, letting his arms wrap around the slim blonde and hold him back, relishing in the warmth rolling off the other boy in waves. Trowa had almost forgotten the sheer joy he felt at just being near Quatre.

A shout of warning came from the forest scout, jarring Quatre out of Trowa’s arms. A streak of black was coming barreling through the camp straight towards them. Duo, only a few steps away from Quatre, hefted a spear and aimed just as the panther slowed enough for a shock of white to become distinguishable. Immediately, Quatre rammed himself into Duo with a cry, toppling the spear out of his hands.

The panther rushed the blonde, pouncing on the ground just before Quatre so that her momentum would not hurt a human, and she climbed atop the blonde, rubbing her head all over him to re-mark her, and her human’s, territory. Quatre quickly moved his arms up into the soft fur of Arms and began to pet the great cat, smiling as she rolled to her side happily to let him continue to rub her.

A sharp whistle cut through her purring, and Arms moved to her feet in an instant, moving to stand protectively around Quatre as she waited for more instructions from her busy companion. Quatre looked to see Trowa crouched in a battle stance, facing off against Heero (whom he had ambushed to prevent an attack on Arms).

Quatre thought fast, “I’m perfectly aright! Please! Arms won’t hurt anyone!”

The name of the beast seemed to make Heero look over, seeing Quatre stroking the huge beast and cuddling her as if she were no more than a toy. Heero looked to Trowa, who was daring him to move against his animal with a snarl.

Duo moved straight in the middle of the face off, breaking off the taunting looks between the two silent warriors and dissolving the fight almost instantly, since both were too proud to goad a rival into a brawl without cause. Duo dragged Heero away from Trowa for a while, while Trowa moved back over to Quatre and his cat.

Running his pale, slim fingers through Arms’s thick black coat, Quatre nuzzled her again and looked up straight at Trowa, “She’s grown very strong and powerful,” Quatre commented, then looked Trowa over critically, “Just like her partner.”

Trowa felt his face flame bright red like it hadn’t since he was a child! All it took was one look from Quatre and he was reduced to a blushing idiot!

“You look like you could still lift me like I was a feather! I knew you would be an excellent warrior.” Quatre raved. And from him, the praise went straight to Trowa’s heart, making it beat so fast that he thought it just might break out of his ribs.

“So, did you get into trouble, Trowa? For playing with me, did you get into trouble?” Quatre asked, his eyes sad, remembering having to part with him.

Trowa bristled, caught completely off guard.

Quatre watched him intently, waiting for an answer. After a few moments of scrutiny Trowa simply shrugged tightly.

“You don’t remember? You don’t remember if you got in trouble or not?” Quatre repeated, skeptical.

Trowa was backed into a corner, he didn’t want to tell Quatre how much trouble he got into for going into the Winner lands, but he seemed intent on knowing. “That was seven years ago.” Trowa defended, terse under the questions.

Quatre’s eyes grew large and his lip began to pout, “Oh... So you don’t really remember me much. I understand...”

Panic flared in Trowa’s chest at seeing Quatre on the verge of tears because of his callousness. For some reason, it seemed like to upset Quatre would mean the end of the world, and Trowa was desperate to see Quatre’s smile even one more time! “Of course I remember you! How...How could anyone not.” Trowa replied in a near whisper, unable to keep even his deepest secrets to himself when Quatre asked.

The blonde looked up at him and blinked slowly, then moved his eyes down Trowa’s body until it landed on his wrist.

There, frayed, in pieces, and held with more bits of patch-work leather than original weave, was the bracelet Quatre had given him. The idea that Trowa kept it this long, obviously keeping it with him everyday for it to warrant such punishment, made Quatre feel warm inside.

Quatre reached up and ran a finger across Trowa’s wrist, just the simple touch enough to stop Trowa’s breath again. This was bad.

Trowa had not planned on having to see Quatre so early in his mission, but he just could not concentrate on what he needed to do when the blonde locked those bright open eyes on him. “The bracelet I gave you is in tatters, Trowa.” Quatre said with a playful smile, “I’ll make you another. If you’d like?”

Trowa began to nod, but then stopped himself, his hand moving to brush the comforting weight on his wrist. He had a lot of memories tied up in that bracelet, memories of a young Quatre, and that day.

Quatre smiled indulgently, as if understanding exactly what was going through Trowa’s mind. He tapped Trowa gently to get his attention, then flicked his earring; three little strung together bones dangling from the flesh of his ear.

Trowa realized with a start that they were from the bone armor he had given Quatre back then, too. Quatre still kept his little gift?

“I was able to use the pieces to create something that still worked. I can use parts of the old bracelet in a new one for you? As a gift for helping our hunters. Duo is my best friend, and I don’t know what I would do without him. Let me make something for you. I am the best weaver here. My works are traded far and wide.” Quatre stated with a little smile of confidence.

Trowa felt his toes curl at the sight, and nodded gently at the blonde’s imploring. At that moment Trowa knew that, without a doubt, he would do just about anything for Quatre. And that was a very bad thing, considering his mission was to destroy the Winner tribe and everything they held dear.

Was revenge was the right way...

XxXxX

“I don’t like it.” Heero grunted again as Duo wrapped some bandages around the worst of his wounds. “The Barton tribe hates the Winners. He wouldn’t just up and leave for no reason. He’s up to something. He’s a spy, or assassin, or-- Damn it Duo, that hurt!” Heero growled, the sounds scaring the scattering of children around them, but making the braided tracker smile.

“Heero, isn’t it obvious why he’s here?” Duo said with a hum, tying off the bandage proper, and then adding a flamboyant bow to the extra bandages, laughing as Heero continued to brood unnoticing of the little embellishment.

“To kill Amar, signal an attack, and seat himself as king over the Winner territory?” Heero answered point-blank.

Duo pointedly looked to where Trowa stood, following Quatre around like a baby duckling, carrying anything the blonde would give him happily, with the panther tagging along blandly like the caboose. “I think it’s obvious why he left the Barton tribe to come here. He’s head over-heels in love with Quatre.”

“I like that idea even worse.” Heero snarled, seeing the possibility unfolding with startling ease.

“Get used to it.” Duo answered with surprising authority, “Because from what I can see, Quatre’s head-over-heels for him too. I’ve never seen someone flirt so shamelessly! Look at him go!”

And Heero did, watching as Quatre handed something else to Trowa and touched his arm, hand, wrist, all before dropping his hand and continuing on, smiling brightly. It made Heero want to vomit.


Chapter 3

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