"The Rovers"

Written By: Kaeru Shisho

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: AU, Romance, Adventure

Pairings: ?

Summary: The characters from Gundam Wing find love amid the perils of war, oh… and they save the world while they're at it. The story is set in an alternative universe on earth. Part One is told from Heero's point of view. We meet the roving people with a hidden agenda, and the men hunting them. In Part Two, things go wild and…well, let's just get through these first four chapters of Part One and see how it goes.

Thanks to Waterlily for reading and offering her advice not just once but twice—and when you get through part two you see just how long a story this is and just how much I owe her! Hope the exchange rate is in my favor…

"The Rovers "

Part Two

Chapter 6 - Three's a Crowd

(o) Quatre's pov

Smoky Hills, Trowa had called them, because of the rising mist- wispy like smoke- except that now they were snow-covered and practically invisible in the blowing snow. The Smoky Hill range separated L3 from L2, that and a few thousand feet of altitude. Quatre had come to the conclusion that Duo and Heero were the lucky ones going to the warmer L2, while Trowa had drawn the short straw.

The flakes, at first big wet clumps but now coming faster as tiny glistening particles, stuck to everything-his eyelashes, hair. The first pretty dusting had been exciting and new and wonder filled. That had been a many days ago and the snow in its many forms was long past the magic stage.

Quatre had never felt such terrible cold in his entire life. L4 was hot in fall, summer and most of spring-very pleasant this time of year. He'd never seen snow except as a mountain peak frosting from afar. Even when he had visited Sanc, it had been in the fine spring, summer, or fall seasons. His time spent with the Rovers had felt like the L4 winter where he'd grown up, which meant he was completely unprepared for the extreme bitterness of the high altitude L3 winter.

And, yes, Trowa had warned him, pleaded with him to remain behind with his countryman. (Never explicitly ordered him to remain behind, because Quatre was a prince and no one but The Sheikh himself would consider commanding him!) But Quatre would not be refused this trip. He had stood his ground and insisted.

As a last straw, the Rover surrendered, but only if Quatre swore not to trail behind and slow him down.

"I won't have a spoilt brat tagging along," Trowa had growled.

"I'm not-! How dare you call me that! I haven't asked for special treatment here. I haven't asked for anything!"

Until now.

He just wanted to be with Trowa All The Time. And if there was danger, he wanted to be there and do his share. Quatre hoped by day and dreamed at night that the tall archer found him as attractive as he found him. The trip would seal their bond!

For Quatre, it had been love at first sight. Remembering that first meeting left him feeling warm him inside, even when he was freezing on the outside. Since he could use all the warmth he could muster, he passed some of the time reminiscing.

He had ridden away from his desert home with next to nothing but his sword, a water bottle, and a change of clothes. He was swathed from head to foot in the traditional garb of his native lands-long sleeves, long trousers, and a long robe, all blue-grey because it was fall. There was a blue and white wrapping on his head, which wound down and around his neck. Even his face was shielded from the blowing sand, had there been any, making a good disguise.

He wore nothing to identify him. He could have been anyone. Unless you could read the inscription on the hilt of his sword.

Instructor H had taught him the route to the "research facility" in which he worked when not in L4. Quatre had committed the map to memory, and that was what he was using to locate the summer camp of the Rovers. He noticed someone following him as he threaded his way up the mountain pass, different someones as he passed divergent paths leading to villages. Quatre wasn't nervous as long as the hidden figures continued only to observe him.

He had made his final turn onto the main road, the one which would lead him surely to the camp, when the rider shadowing him for the past hour pulled out in front and stopped.

"Whoa," Quatre said as he slowed his Arab mare. "I haven't anything of value to rob!" he shouted to the stranger, drawing his sword, just in case he was attacked.

The stranger pushed back the hair shading his face to get a better look, and then, remarkably raised his hands to his shoulders, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. "Not a robber," the stranger said. "You can put away the sword."

"I could, but you're armed. It would be pretty trusting of me to think you couldn't reach the knife in your boot or even get off an arrow before I cut off your arm." Quatre smiled then at the wide-eyed look on the other man's face; a young man about his age with a handsome face partially hidden behind long, light brown bangs. He felt a kind of calm emanating from the man-self-assurance born of competence, in spite of looking like he was on the defensive, and directness, and, importantly, good-will. It was a lot considering how little he knew the man, so it meant they had some kind of connection. Already! Quatre relaxed a bit more. "You don't look like a robber."

"I'm not." The stranger lowered his hands an inch. "You don't look like anyone I'd expect to find riding here-alone."

"If you'll let me pass," Quatre said, "you can put your hands down. Just move to the side."

"Not unless you show me your face," the stranger said, and now his voice sounded confident.

Quatre thought he detected a hint of a smile, too. "All right. That's fair enough, I'd say." He removed his headdress and unwrapped the scarf from his lower face. "See? Haven't I an honest face?"

"An honest-? Ha!" The stranger chuckled. "I guess so. You look harmless, except for the deadly sword you've got there."

"I have to protect myself somehow, don't I?" Quatre sat a little straighter now that he didn't think he was going to be assaulted immediately. "See here, why don't we go back that way a mile to the inn? I'll buy you a... drink, if you'd like." It was a sudden thought.

"You want to be friends? Just like that?" The stranger sounded mystified.

"Friends? Oh, yes. That would be lovely. I haven't any friends here. You could be the first?"

And then the stranger smiled, for real, and Quatre's heart just melted on the spot. "You are some crazy kid, but, sure, you can buy me a drink, lunch too."

"L-Lunch?!" The nerve, adding that to the invitation! "Oh, is it time to eat already? Why, that's a fine idea, Mr.-? I'm Quatre Raberba Winner, by the way."

"W-Winner?" The stranger cast a wild look over his shoulder. "From L4?!"

"Yes! I've come-" Quatre closed his mouth at the "Be quiet!" sign the other man was giving him- a hand over his mouth and a slicing movement with his other arm.

"You'd best come with me if you want to be safe."

"The inn's in the other direction," Quatre pointed out.

"And so are a lot of... bad guys."

"But I was just there and I didn't see any 'bad guys'," Quatre argued, unsure he wanted to follow the stranger now.

"Crap. That's why you need to come with me. I'll protect you."

Quatre sniffed. "I was doing just find by myself, thank you."

"You think so? Then you're blind. You've been followed for miles by far less respectable men than me. You stand out like ... like I would in a ballroom... in that getup you're wearing. Believe me, you need protecting now, Prince of L4."

So, the stranger knew who he was by name. "I see. Tell me, to where are you proposing to lead me?"

"A safe place."

"Oh, please..." Quatre was no fool and didn't like being treated like one, or like a child.

"You ever heard of the Rovers?"

"Why, yes! I was on my way to their camp, in fact."

"-a lamb among the wolves..." the stranger murmured. "Great then. I'm going that way too."

"Are you a Rover?" Quatre asked.

"Yes!"

"Do you have a name, or do I call you Mr. Rover?" Quatre asked, playfully now that he felt safe and marginally in control of the situation again.

"Some call me Shadow."

"Really? Oh, I can't seriously call you that."

"Call me Trowa, then," he said with a touch of impatience. "Well should get out of the open and ride if we want to make it there before dark."

"Oh, yes, let's, Trowa!" And Quatre clicked his tongue, urging his horse ahead at a trot. "You'll wish you let me buy you lunch, though, if we get in that late."

Quatre loved recalling that first meeting and how his heart skipped a beat when Trowa helped him down off his horse and kissed him. Just like that! So very forward of him! He didn't asked permission or anything. And then Trowa had turned red in the face and hurried away, leaving Quatre alone to meet and greet the Rovers who had clustered around him.

Trowa wasn't actually gone long. When he returned, he was bringing Duo Maxwell, and after that he never left his side. Quatre went so far as to share his tent; although, Trowa never did more than touch his hand or kiss him lightly.

Not that Quatre thought it was appropriate to do more; they had only just met.

That was then, but this was now and things had changed ever since his countryman, Rashid, the leader of the Maguanacs, had arrived. Quatre could tell Trowa resented his arrival, and Rashid certainly made no attempt to hide his disfavor for Trowa sharing Quatre's sleeping quarters.

Now that he had pushed Trowa into letting him "tag" along, he could see he'd damaged their burgeoning relationship. Trowa was just barely civil to him, and it was entirely all his fault. Trowa had tried everything to force Quatre to remain behind, short of "hogtieing" him and leaving in the dark of night. Of course, Quatre had vowed he would follow regardless, and "jolly well" got his way. So, he had nobody to blame for his discomfort but himself. Duo's words echoed in his head, bringing a wisp of smile to the corners of his lips. "hogtieing!" My how his vocabulary had grown!

The barest smile was all he could achieve. His face had become frozen into a scowl. No amount of clothing helped warm him. The frigid air crept under the folds, along the seams, and found skin to chill to the bone. He could no longer feel the reins in his numb hands and his legs ended in stumps held in place by the stirrups. He'd slid to the side and, had Rashid not been there to prop him up, he would have fallen right to the ground.

"Don't tell Trowa, please," he begged Rashid. "He tried to prevent me from coming along. He warned me it would be hard, and I demanded he bring me. I want to prove I could do this."

"As you wish, Master Quatre, but the next town we see, we are stopping for the night."

He had slipped twice before this and knew he'd pushed himself as far as he could go that day. He didn't argue against stopping this time.

"Master Barton," the Maguanac called out.

Trowa was leading the way, picking out a path on the treacherous icy road with the expertise of years doing it. He slowed and looked over his shoulder then stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I see lights down there," Rashid said. "It must be a village with an inn of some sort. I'm taking Master Winner there."

"We're behind schedule already," Trowa explained, sounding tired, hungry and short on patience.

"Then by all means go on. I shall remain with my prince, and we shall meet up with you the next day," Rashid said.

Quatre knew his guardsman wouldn't leave him and he wouldn't budge from his decision to go to the village. Quatre wanted to apologize to Trowa, though, he was sorry to cause a problem, but his lips wouldn't move. He let his head droop. So sleepy...

"All right," Trowa said, giving in without a fight. "I know this place. We're on the outskirts of L3, and while it's not safe, we aren't in serious danger for the one night," Trowa said, and turned to the right and down the snow-covered lane.

"We want to keep a low profile," Trowa told them. "We'll hide the bigger weapons here, behind these boulders. If we look too well armed we'll attract the wrong kind of attention.

Rashid helped him camouflage the hiding place and mask their footsteps. Quatre watched them work, wishing he could do more, but knowing that the best he could do was just not to add to their workload. He felt himself drifting in and out of a comfortable doze, not knowing how dangerously close to never waking up he was.

Strong arms pulled him off his horse and carried him inside. "Over there. Take off his boots." Trowa rubbed his hands. "Fuck, he's nearly frozen."

He heard Rashid say, "I'll bring him some tea."

The warm fire at the hearth revitalized them all, but Quatre especially, and once he filled his stomach with hot soup he could force a smile. "Thank you for stopping. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance."

Trowa shook his head. "I was tired, too. I sometimes push myself too hard, and the horses."

"He is right, Master Quatre," Rashid remarked. "See? It's already dark out. You may have saved us a dangerous trek in the gloom."

The manner in which Rashid held out the "oo" in "gloom" sent a shiver up Quatre's back. He was grateful for the words of support, but he really wanted to hear it from Trowa, who was not forthcoming. He was, in fact, looking over his shoulder, checking to see if they were out of hearing and not drawing any attention.

Quatre could see that they were mostly forgotten at the dark and private corner table. "No one cares about us here," Quatre said. He hoped he'd sounded encouraging.

"They aren't being obvious about it," Trowa corrected him.

The sharp tone hurt. "Sorry," Quatre murmured. "Sorry to add to your responsibilities."

He watched as Trowa's shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath. "No, I'm sorry."

"Are you expecting trouble?" Rashid asked.

Quatre noticed that Rashid didn't seem to mind putting his friend on the spot, but he did. "He'd tell us if he was," he said defensively. "He warned us this place wasn't a guaranteed safety point."

Trowa's hand rubbed his shoulder and he smiled fractionally. "It's all right. Your body guard is being protective. That's his job." He sat back a ways and pushed at his long bangs. "Actually, I've been expecting messengers bringing instructions."

"We are to distribute weapons, correct?" Rashid asked. "Perhaps those men who just rode up are-?"

Trowa flew out of his chair and rushed the door, getting to it as it opened.

"It isn't us he should be concerned about when it comes to drawing attention," Rashid whispered.

"Where did he go?" Quatre asked.

"Outside to speak to them, Archers, from their appearance," Rashid answered. "Men dressed like him."

The Archers never appeared inside. The minutes ticked by with no sign of Trowa returning. Just as he began to worry, the door opened and Trowa reentered looking pleased. Quatre breathed a sigh of relief and Rashid patted his hand.

"We can rest well tonight," Trowa said. "The blizzard's closed the road ahead and there's no one behind us." His surly mood had lightened and he even ordered more food to their table and a local warm, mulled wine drink. He fell into his chair and kissed Quatre's cheek-a surprise for Quatre. "Stopping here was a good call on your part. We would have had to turn back anyway, if we'd wanted a place to spend the night out of the weather."

"Will we be trapped here for long?" Quatre asked, pulling himself together. If Trowa was trying to make up for his earlier snit, he would accept the apology with style. "We have urgent business, don't we?"

"The storm should blow over," Trowa said breezily, for him. "It's like that up here. It might not snow again for a week, or another one come on its tail. We're fine."

"We'll assess our passage in the morning," Rashid suggested.

"Yeah, we will," Trowa said with a bit less enthusiasm than before. "We aren't far," he dropped his voice to a near whisper and leaned in, "from one of the workshops where the doctors experiment on new things. Unless we hear otherwise, we'll make for their place first and see if there's anything for us to transport directly."

Rashid nodded sagely. "That's good. There will be a room for Master Quatre to keep out of the weather."

"Not for long," Trowa told him. "We wouldn't be staying there more than a few hours."

"We shall assess that situation as well, when we get there," Rashid said defiantly.

"We'll do what we came here for, or I'll send you both back with the Archers." Trowa's voice was muted but Quatre could feel the tension getting worse.

"Please, don't fight," he urged. "Look here! Our roast and potatoes!"

The peace lasted until they had finished eating and had climbed the stairs to their rooms. Quatre generously paid for two rooms, the best they could find, and when possible, baths, plenty of firewood, blankets, and food. He also spent money wisely on good care for their horses.

"I shall check on the horses. I never trust anyone's stabling conditions until I see it with my own eyes," Rashid said.

"No one's stopping you," Trowa said.

"I am torn, Master Quatre," Rashid said. "The room nearest the stairs should be mine. No one gets past me. You should have the end room."

"I want the one by the stairs for a quick retreat, if necessary," Trowa said.

Quatre, tired of their bickering, made his choice. "I want the one on the end, it's more private." He knew Trowa would get the hint; the man wasn't stupid. "Yes, please, Rashid, check the horses for us and make sure the stable-boy gives them some nice mash."

"As you wish," Rashid said, and then left the two alone.

Quatre turned to the last of the stairs, saying to Trowa over his shoulder, "You can choose whose bed it is you wish to warm."

As expected, Trowa chased after him. "But you understand- it's colder at the end, too."

"Then I anticipate you'll find a way to keep me warm?" Quatre said. He didn't keep the flirtatiousness out of his voice, which he wasn't at all practiced at and didn't think he was very good at. It was an even chance whether Trowa would want him or laugh at his bumbling attempt at seduction.

"I guess I have something to prove then, don't I?" Trowa asked. The gleam in his eye was back, which was what Quatre wanted to see.

His words had worked better than he thought possible. The sure-footed Archer actually stumbled, slightly, in his rush to get to the door first and open it gallantly.

"My prince-you first," Trowa said in a mock tribute to gallantry.

Quatre laughed, taking it for the fun it seemed. He strode into the room with a measured look around. A lamp and candles-check-giving off a nice soft glow and a fire crackled in the hearth- check. Money well spent. It was nice enough, with a stack of quilts on one chair and a bed rounded with a huge fluffy down comforter-check! He turned at the scraping sound behind him to see Trowa jamming a chair under the door handle for security, and then couldn't look away as Trowa removed outer wear and a tonnage of "light" weaponry.

"You carried all that on you?" Quatre said, shocked.

"Always do."

"I feel quite safe now," Quatre said. Yes, he could be sarcastic when the occasion warranted it, and with Trowa stripping off his boots, socks, and now lingering on his tunic, the time was right. How safe did he feel? Actually?

"Should anyone attack us, we either blast our way through or blow up in a moment of glory."

"Preferably the first."

"Preferably after we have gone and left," Trowa concluded. "Now, I've got other plans for the night."

"Have you?" Quatre asked innocently. "I hope it includes more than cleaning weapons and getting some sleep."

"Yeah. You mentioned needing a..." he cleared his throat, "...ah... warming up." Trowa's eyes roamed around the room, the one visible eye widening, the only give-away that he was impressed with the room. "Travelling with a prince has its bonuses," Trowa said at last.

"You have no idea just how advantageous it can be." Quatre fluttered his eyelashes and laughed at his own silliness. With a flourish he disposed of his own boots, socks and outerwear. He bounced onto the bed. "Testing for durability! Oh!" He sank into the down, deeper and deeper...

"Where did you go?" Trowa called out, laughter in his voice. "Shit! Did the bed just eat Quatre?" He jumped into the center of the plumpness.

Quatre squealed with delight when Trowa's weight crushed him, and then hot, moist breath whispered over his mouth and lips pressed his. Divine wonder!

"I give into temptation," Trowa murmured into his bare skin. "I am only human and you are absolutely perfect."

"Oh, get my rucksack for me, would you, please?" Quatre begged.

"Your...what? Oh, that. Why?" Trowa asked, his tone close to a whine, while getting up and doing what he'd been asked.

"This!" Quatre pulled out a jar. "Duo gave it to me, plus another for later, but this one is strawberry flavored!"

"Strawberry ...? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Now, be nice. This is fun. Look I put his on you then, lick it off."

Trowa was only too eager to be cooperative after that, undressing the both of them and letting Quatre fuss with his jars. In fact, Trowa let him do whatever he wanted. Quatre liked that about him. He might complain, but he'd submit to Quatre's will eventually.

"Oh, fuck, that's..." Trowa trailed off into a groan of satisfaction.

"My turn!" Quatre insisted with a laugh at his lover's lack of movement. He tugged at Trowa's leg and kissed his way up his lean thigh, over the flat stomach, and up the long neck to his lips.

"Okay, okay... Here, lie back. Let me do this."

And Quatre did because he trusted Trowa to know how to make him feel good, teach him a few tricks, and never hurt him.

(o)

Before leaving the inn, Trowa was visited once again by the Archers. The road was passable, they reported, but not recommended for thin-blooded folks from the south. Additionally, they had news. Trowa ripped open the message and read a moment.

"Trowa?" Quatre asked, sensing his distress.

"It's a new assignment," Trowa said, keeping his voice very hushed. "This is more of a desperate plea from Doctor S."

Quatre knew all the doctor's code names by now. S was allegedly from L3 and concentrated his time there in a manner similar to H, who Quatre knew had a relationship with L4. To be contacted by one of these men meant something serious was afoot. He leashed in his alarm and tried to think logically. "What does he want you to do?"

"I'm to proceed to a secret location where some of the doctors work, and transport them. Their research hideout had been compromised. Khushrenada's forces could storm the building and take the technology, papers, plans, and the doctors, if I don't get there first."

Not alone, Quatre thought!

"That is too much for one man. We are going with you," Quatre said.

Trowa didn't argue. "We will be on our own with little backup. Actually, the Archers will have a wagon in place to take everyone to safety. I- we just have to get them out."

"Then we shall," Quatre vowed.

"But the cold?" Trowa said.

"Are there no shops around?" Quatre asked.

There were none, but there was no turning back. Quatre had become an important part of the plans now, so, at Trowa's insistence, they took up a collection and found Quatre warmer gloves, fur-lined pants and hat, and an outer coat stuffed with goose down like the bed comforter! Quatre would be warm one way or the other!

(o) Wufei's pov

By day, they managed some conversation - less than they liked- while riding side by side and a little distance ahead of the guards. Riding out of the wetlands went easily and soon the riders had returned to the King's Way. The road led them on a gradual climb, linking them to a series of roads that eventually took them to Duke Dermail's palace.

The two Sanc guards had been sent forward to announce the prince's arrival, so that when Zechs and Wufei rode past the gate and across the grounds, a proper royal greeting party awaited them.

"In your honor there's a welcoming gala tonight!" announced an assistant to Dermail.

"Express our gratitude to the Duke, but really, there is no need to trouble yourselves," Zechs told him.

"No trouble at all, Your Highness! It has been planned for several days, since we knew you were coming."

Wufei wondered how they knew of Zechs arrival, but didn't ask a mere footman. He looked at the departing man with unmasked scorn. God, he thought, the formal attire of the subordinates was excessive- and silly. Once they were alone in their suite, he expressed his opinion to Zechs.

"Sanc fashion is tired, I agree whole heartedly with you," Zechs said. "Rather than all those layers, I'd much rather the young men run around in the loose silk of your apparel." He smiled at Wufei's startled expression. "Unless you prefer the tight pants? Those we can keep. What do you think? Shall I put you in charge of the Sanc royal costumes?"

"Be serious," Wufei said. He turned his face away to hide his smile.

"All right. You ask for serious. Consider this: our arrival was expected," Zechs told Wufei.

"I thought about that and decided that it was reasonable considering the passes back to Sanc are closed and this was the logical place for you to stay," Wufei said.

"What I meant was: how did Dermail know I was in the area and going to Sanc, and why?"

"He must have been told-!"

"-by Khushrenada." Zechs drew the name out into a complete sentence. "He has a winter home further north. He would have been informed when I was of my father's... of the king's failing health."

"And Khushrenada has armed forces attacking L5, let's not forget that!" Wufei snarled. His imagination took a few wild leaps and bounds, but often his intuition was worth heeding. "The two are working together. He wants you trapped here for the winter, out of the way-"

"-While he-"

"Yes! While he conquers the Sanc Kingdom and every single colony- one by one." Wufei fired off the words lie a barge of bullets, while still managing to keep his voice low so not to be overheard.

"I shall not allow that, darling, and with you by my side, I know we can save the world from that dark future."

Wufei was so shocked by his calling him "darling" his mouth snapped shut and he stood there blinking a moment. The term of endearment sounded feminizing-far too much to his liking.

Zechs smiled, winked, and patted his arm, which gently brought him out of his stupor. "We shall learn what we can at this party," Zechs said. "If the general is here, then we will leave the palace immediately. I shall not share a roof with the man I suspect wants me effectively out of the way."

"Should he attack you, I would stick a knife in his back, if it were not so dishonorable."

"And I would appreciate the gesture, ignoble or not. However," Zechs brushed out his best jacket, "assuming the general is here, he would be wise not to make any move against me so soon."

"Oh? And what do you expect him to do?"

"He will try to turn me to his side first." Zechs turned to Wufei with a frustrated tug at the cloth around his neck. "Could you fix this ascot please? I'm all thumbs. The riding-"

"Riding in that cold wind," Wufei said with understanding, "is hard on my sword hand as well."

"What we should do is-" Zechs went on as he made a grab for the chilled hand.

Wufei bat away the ruffle-edged cuff of Zechs' sleeve, while attempting to adjust his cravat. "You must hold still, for a start!"

"Yes, my darling," Zechs replied.

Wufei checked himself from wincing at the repeat of the pet name, letting it smooth over him like butter. Yes, the other man's smile appeared a bit too smug. Let him think he's won the name-game, he thought. It wasn't so bad...

"We don't want to give away our viewpoints or opinions to him too soon, so that he has time to prepare a counterattack." Zechs looked down upon him with a serious expression.

"Of course not!" Wufei huffed. "I do know how to conduct myself at a social function," Wufei snapped his reminder, "I am trained to be an ambassador!"

"Of course you do...are-"

"Even if it requires me to throttle my intelligence to fit into your aristocracy's convoluted culture!"

"I have no doubts-"

"Oh, I shall leave most certainty- particularly if that snake is here and I'm not allowed to kill it!"

"Well, that's to be understood-"

"I will go to L5. I want to see that the colonists are properly armed with Howard's extraordinary armaments. Are you still with me?"

"We shall work together," Zechs assured him.

Wufei glared to make sure the man wasn't just being patronizing, and Zechs bent his head down, touching foreheads.

"You have my word," Zechs whispered.

Wufei smiled, satisfied that they had a soul-deep pact. "Together, then, we shall find justice."

"We will probably have to work very hard to bring justice into the equation," Zechs said. "Revenge will be far more straightforward, I'm afraid."

Emboldened by the other man's support, Wufei remembered to broach the "darling" thing. "And about the pet name-"

"I'm glad you like it," Zechs said. And then Zechs kissed him. Not a fleeting touch, but a thorough lip bruising kiss Wufei would continue to feel for hours. "Now, let's show them no fear."

"I-I'm not afraid of any of these people," Wufei insisted to Zechs' retreating back. He straightened his jacket, crushed in the embrace, then touched his lips with a finger. He smiled a secret little smile and then hurried to catch up. Being the prince's "darling" was the least of his problems, after all.

One look at the ballroom and Wufei felt disgust. Duke Dermail had gone to extremes to produce an elegant party along the lines of those of renown at the Sanc Palace. Waste and overindulgence did not favorably impress the young ambassador from L5, and everywhere he looked he saw signs of both. He drew his breath and was about to comment to that effect, but Zechs, he noticed, was scanning the crowd for someone. His eyes followed the trajectory of Zechs' glower.

A woman stood, elegant and tall in something black. A spike of jealousy jabbed at his heart, and that made him angry.

He was dreadfully attracted to Zechs, but didn't trust him at all with his heart, so he hadn't given away much affection. He felt justified. This was the kind of situation that vindicated him! First, he had only known the other man a few weeks. Then, Zechs clearly had a past and most likely hadn't led a life of abstinence, not with those looks. Here was just an example, a sample of more to come? What did he know of the prince's previous affairs? And what possible future could they have together? Realistically- none. The King of Sanc would be required to sire offspring, providing heirs to the kingdom. An L5 clan leader would be expected to do the same. Perhaps there were solutions and alternatives? Or not.

He had to make some remark about the object of Zechs' current notice. Whether or not he wanted it to come out sour, it did. "There's something strange about that woman's costume," Wufei said.

Zechs turned his head back toward him. "Like everything she wears-but she looks even more heartbreaking than usual."

Wufei let his left eyebrow arch. "Oh. You know her then?" Of course he did...

Whether he faced a brilliant or a dismal future, Wufei wouldn't back down from a challenge.

"Lucrezia Noin, my trusted aid," Zechs explained his face drawn and serious. "She must have been taken from Sanc and now is in General Khushrenada's employ."

"Against your wishes?"

"Against my orders."

Wufei had elicited the other man's anger. Well met, then. He fought back a smile. A little irritation was good for the soul, and it meant he had influence over Zechs. He so liked to wield his power. This was a comfort to him when he thought back to how much control Zechs had over him-with one word "darling" or a kiss.

She was, of course, delighted to see Prince Milliardo, and rushed to receive him, whispering how she was only pretending to defect, that she was acting still as his spy. Lucrezia and Wufei exchanged greetings: Wufei stiff and unyielding; she warm, yet with something of the military about her bearing.

They were not to be allowed much private time to speak together. "Look out. Lady Une approaches," Noin said, straightening and stepping back.

General Khushrenada's stunning wife swept the floor with her heavy brocade dress; she was all platinum-streaked, but otherwise had obviously plain, mousy-brown hair (Zechs' was more lustrous as well as longer, Wufei noted smugly) and diamond earrings.

"Dear, dear, Milli!" she purred.

Of course, she also knew the Prince of Sanc, and Wufei only half listened to her banal comments. His eyes were riveted to the commanding presence joining them at her side. Treize Khushrenada required no introductions; he was unmistakable.

Regardless, Zechs did introduce the general to him. He barely had time to bow, when the glamorous lady appropriated all the attention.

"I hope I don't catch you talking politics all evening," Lady Une said to Treize with a mock scowl. "It's the winter holidays, dearest, not the time for duels." Before he had time to reply, she had turned back to Zechs. "And who have you brought to the party? Someone new?"

"New, yes," Zechs said choosing his words carefully. "Lady Une, may I present Change Wufei from L1."

There was no mistake. He had purposely left off mentioning the ambassador's position or connection to L5. Wufei and he had agreed on this subterfuge, considering L5 was currently at war with them. L1 was an acceptable substitute. The L1 colony teamed with Asians, mostly Japanese, and while he was pure Chinese, Wufei knew none of these people could see any dissimilarity, so what difference could it make? None to him.

"The ignorance of these people was endless", he decided, would become his latest litany, repeatable in endless iterations for his meditations. Spiritual Enlightment through offense-a conclusion which brought the necessary smile to his lips, the one required in polite society.

"Your servant, my lady." Wufei clicked his heels and bowed as Master Li had instructed him, in the manner that would be expected.

"There, you see?" Lady Une said to Noin. "The colonists can be trained."

Insulted beyond his tolerance, Wufei found an excuse "a vital need for fresh air" to take his leave and departed. He had told Zechs he would exit and he would! He waited for no man's permission! His sword had been confiscated – to be returned when he left the ball room premises-and without that he didn't pretend to think he would have any chance at beating the damned general in a duel.

After roaming the outer hall lost and fuming mad, he asked a servant for directions to the out-of-doors.

"The garden is through the glass doors at the end of the hall, sir."

"Thank you." Wufei drew two deep breaths, feeling a calm come over him, and then walked gracefully in that direction.

He heard hurried footsteps behind him- boot heels further apart than his, indicating longer strides, familiar ones. He slowed his steps to let the other man catch up.

"Wufei," Zechs said in a low voice as he came up alongside him.

Wufei faced him, looking up into his eyes. He thought Zechs looked a little pinched and tired. He certainly was feeling the strain. "You found me."

"I did. Confounding rude woman." Zechs shook his head. "Fresh air is the only antidote for a pestilence like her."

"The garden is this way," Wufei told him. It felt good being in charge again. He took the elegant, tall man with the sweep of silvery hair out into the winter garden; dead leaves plastered to the iron chairs and table, bare rose canes climbing up through the trellis. The frozen air made the sky black and the stars white and sharp.

Pretty but cold, and he wasn't dressed for that. When he started to tremble, Zechs stood behind him and wrapped him in his arms.

"What kind of tutoring does an ambassador from L5 get?" Zechs asked, keeping his voice low. "You are very well trained in court conduct."

"Court performance, you mean." Wufei shrugged. "I have received a full and complete education. In fact, despite being schooled in several modes of combat, hand-to-hand fighting, and military movements and its history, I'm a scholar. Ancient poetry interests me most."

"You know poetry as well as have fighting skills? Is this common in the L5 colony?"

"No. I am the son of a clan leader. Our clan represents L5 to the world outside. I'm prepared to discuss topical subject matter and defend myself and my...colony."

"Then your father is a king."

"Like one. I suppose you might think of him in that context. He is the sovereign leader and his position gets passed one to me on his death."

"Which actually does make you as much a crown prince as I."

He turned in Zechs' arms so he could look him in the eyes, the windows to the soul of a man. "I am anyone's equal!" Wufei said brimming with pride.

"I love you," Zechs said.

"I am most... fond... of you, too," Wufei said feeling heat rise up his neck. "What?"

"You know I adore you. I've told you I love you." Zechs smile grew wide. "But until this moment, you'd never said how you felt. Your reserve is...substantial."

Wufei closed in and kissed the edge of his jaw. Perhaps he was showing weakness, but he was vulnerable to a man in dress uniform showering him with words of love. He could give up some power to another, if that other proved himself worthy. Zechs had come after him-him! That deserved a reward. He'd give one to Zechs. He couldn't still the trembling of his lips.

"You are cold," Zechs said. "So am I. Let's go in."

Zechs took his hand and led him back inside, up the stairs to their suite. Zechs had led the household to believe Wufei was his secretary, not a man of power from a warring colony, so he'd been given a set of rooms including a parlor, a grand bedroom suitable for a prince, and an adjoining, smaller room for his aide. They sat on an elaborate old sofa, a Victorian horror, the sort of thing that, once it came up five flights of stairs, was never going anywhere again.

"Dear old thing," Zechs said affectionately, smoothing the brown velvet cushion with his hand. "I napped on this once or twice as a child," he explained. "Sit. I'll be right with you."

Wufei walked to the couch and eyed it suspiciously, watching as Zechs took a bottle of wine from the windowsill, opened it and poured two glasses. He handed one to Wufei, who did sit, and one for himself.

"It's Portuguese," he said.

Wufei took a sip. Hated it less than usual, so declared, "Very good." He knew nothing about wine.

"Not bad, I'd say." Zechs still restive, walked over to the window, stared down at the snow floating past the street lamps.

Wufei sighed. Now what was the matter? He stood, giving up trying to guess the contents of Zechs' mind, and followed a moment later. He leaned against him and took Zechs' hand. Zechs looked at him with eyes that melted his heart. Eyes a soft grey-blue that were only for him. Everyone else received a cold, steely stare.

"Do you miss your homeland?" Zechs asked.

His voice was soft, too. Warm with emotion and gentle with thoughtful interest. It made Wufei want to tell him about himself and share his dreams.

"Yes." Wufei missed his home terribly. "It was very beautiful. When I left, I had expected to return with a well-armed militia of misfits for support."

"I believe it must be spectacular, peopled by men and women as handsome as you." Zechs' calculated words resulted in a sudden flush to Wufei's cheeks, but he couldn't really be mad at him for making an inane compliment. He could make him pay, though.

"Make love to me," Wufei demanded. Better to appear to have a modicum of control than leave it all up to the other man.

"With pleasure, darling mine."

It was a relief to get it over with, the first time, because God only knew what could go wrong. The second time was much better. Zechs had a long, smooth body, silky and well-muscled. Wufei was a little shy to begin with, then not. They had chosen his small, cozy room for their first venture into lovemaking. The bed was narrow, not really meant for two, but he slept in the taller man's arms all night so it didn't matter.

TBC...

Chapter 7

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