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Trowa Lin	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 525 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Trowa Lin
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 1
- 2
- 3
Trowa Lin 2

Rating:
This part, G. It'll get dirty later on, I promise

Author's
Notes: I must apologize for not warning people about the presence of the
EVIL Dorothy in the first part - that was so creepy to write that I kind of
blocked it from my mind. Don't worry, she doesn't appear in person in this
installment. Also, about the bastardization of Quatre's dad - hopefully it
won't seem so harsh after you read this - I want him to be kind of the "bad
guy" because the tension is needed, but you also have to remember that you
are seeing him through an unhappy 17 year old Quatre's eyes. (And really,
at 17, how many of us understood or agreed with our Dad's view of the world
wholeheartedly?) He and Quatre just have radically different ways of
looking at things.

Quatre
paused just inside the stable doors to give his eyes time to adjust. A quick
survey of the many large box stalls lining the walls showed the barn to be empty
except for the horses, to his relief. Stray bits of straw tickled at his ankles
as he made his way to his horse's stall. "Sandrock, my only friend,"
he spoke softly as he unlatched the door. Quatre carefully brushed his hand over
the pale horse's hindquarters as a way of warning as he slid into to stand next
to the animal. The horse turned to meet him, and rubbed his daintily boned head
against Quatre's chest, leaving a trail of fine golden hairs to cling to the
silk. "No horse snot today, please, these are my good clothes." Quatre
chuckled at the horse's enthusiastic greeting.

The
purebred Arabian gave his head a little shake as his small master sighed and
leaned against his flank, fingers idly twining in the silken mane. "Sandrock,
how do you do it? When they put you to mate with a particularly ill-tempered
mare? It seems that things must be so much easier if you're a horse."

"Easier?"
A voice rumbled from the tack room across the isle from Sandrock's stall. Rashid
poked his head out, a strip of leather dangling from his hand. "Why, Master
Quatre, Sandrock's life is full of problems. He must remember where the choicest
patch of sweet clover grows. He strives to keep himself in fine shape for his
female admirers. And, of course, he worries constantly that he might fail his
duty to you."

Quatre's
head rose slightly from its spot on Sandrock's shoulder and favored the stable
master with a lop-sided grin. "Sandrock could never do anything to
disappoint me. I feel better just being around him. Everything always looks much
clearer in the stable's light." He set his chin back down on the horse's
withers and his fingers of his right hand continued their absent minded meander
through the pale mane that flowed over them.

Quatre
studied the older man who was leaning against the stall door through half closed
eyes. He was impossibly large to petite Quatre, towering well over six and a
half feet. He moved with a grace and deliberation that was at odds with his
size. Although Rashid had been in charge of the stable for as long as Quatre
could remember, he knew that the man had a long and rich history of service with
the Winner family. Quatre's father had met Rashid and his band of followers
while fighting in a foreign land, and been so impressed that he offered the
forty of them a place within his holdings when the battles had ended. Several,
such as Rashid, had remained at the castle proper, serving as guards and such,
while the rest had settled down, taking local wives and falling easily into the
pastoral lifestyle. Rashid's large fingers flew across the leather that he held,
occasionally poking holes in it with a casualness that belied his practiced eye.
Quatre had fallen into a peaceful half trance when Rashid's softly rumbling
voice returned him to reality.

"Your
father does love you, you know. He wants what is best for you." Rashid held
up a thick finger to forestall any protests that Quatre might have made.
"But at the same time, your father must consider what is best for all his
people. And so, even though it does not seem right, the happiness of his only
son may be considered only after the needs of all the people have been met. And
you know as well as I the advantages of the Winner and Barton estates joining
together. He's also thinking of Barton's people. Times have not been easy for
them since their Lord died."

"I
wish that Lord Barton had never remarried." Quatre commented into
Sandrock's shoulder.

"Ah,
well, he had to consider the needs of his people, too. With his own heir gone,
he had to provide for his people in the best way he could."

"How
was that the best way? It seems that nothing has been right in his lands since
he married Lady Une and took her daughter as his own. Couldn't he have married
another woman and had more children? Why did he have to doom me to life with
Dorothy?" Quatre's voice had taken a slightly petulant tone that stung his
own ears.

"Master
Quatre, you are not the only one who lost his taste for life after Master Trowa
disappeared. The arrangement between the Lady Dorothy and yourself was meant to
make you the Barton heir, for Lord Barton saw you as the only suitable
replacement for Master Trowa."

"I
could never hope to replace Trowa." Quatre said softly to himself. He then
returned his attention to Rashid. "Please don't speak that name again. I
would not want to see my father angry at you."

"Ah,
a point on which your father and I disagree. What harm can there be in simply
mentioning a lost boy's name�" Rashid trailed off as he saw the moisture
building in Quatre's eyes. "Alright," he sighed. "You know, you
should come out of there before your finery is fit only for washing the floor.
Your Duo brought some clothes here for you earlier � he knows your mind very
well. Go change in the tack room." He laid the leather aside as the slight
boy brushed past. Sandrock watched his master go, and then locked his dark eyes
with the stable master's. Rashid cocked his head to the side as he and the horse
contemplated each other. 'Really,' he mused to himself, 'The boy and his
stallion are from the same mold. Both look so delicate and breakable from the
outside, but there's steel underneath.' Sandrock snorted, and Rashid snorted
right back. 'Too bad that Quatre has no idea how strong he really is�' His
reverie was broken by Quatre's quiet voice.

"He's
not my Duo, you know. He's Heero's."

"Ah,
yes, I've chased the two of them out of the hay loft often enough to know that.
I finally told Duo if he persisted in using the spot for his trysts, I would let
the horses come to the kitchen and do 'that' on his dinner." The
wrinkles around Rashid's eyes deepened. Quatre moved next to him, silks replaced
by coarser cloth, saddle in hand. Rashid lifted the tack from Quatre's
protesting grip and slipped into Sandrock's stall to begin preparing the horse.
"How do you feel about 'that?'" He asked without making eye contact.

Quatre
shrugged as he took Rashid's place against the stall door, idly twirling a piece
of straw. "I'm just glad they are happy. That they have someone to be happy
together with� I'm not sure Heero ever spoke, before Duo came along. 'That'
bothers my father, not me."

"I
would imagine 'that' would be irksome to anyone who has had as much stress
placed upon him about the getting of heirs as your father was burdened with.
It's always been different for you � there were already six grandsons by the
time you were born. Your father was the last of the Winner line until he had you
children. A large weight was placed upon his shoulders when he was even younger
than you. The pressures of life have a strange way of hardening a man."

"I
know, but�" Quatre was almost immediately cut off.

"Have
you ever wondered what it was like to be a man with twenty-nine daughters, who
suddenly finds himself gifted with a son? Girls, your father learned how to
handle. Boys, he is at a total loss with. Remember that when you are tempted to
think harshly of him. He tries the best he can to make you into the man he feels
you must be. And like all mortals, he makes mistakes along the way." Rashid
grunted a little as he tightened the girth for a final time. "You should
know better than to try and puff your belly out around me, Sandrock. Those
tricks were old in your grandsire's time." He led the prancing horse out
through the door that Quatre held open, and then handed the reins to the boy.
"And, now my lord, will you ride to Carterhaugh, to survey your new
lands?"

"Do
you know, I had forgotten about that!" Quatre smiled slightly. It was
tradition in the Winner family to name the heir Lord of Carterhaugh on his 17th
birthday. The tangle of forestland that stretched between the Winner and Barton
lands had once held a greater significance in family legend, but most of the
stories had been long lost. "Perhaps I should go and plot against the
faeries, and take possession of my holding in more than name only."

Rashid
gave Quatre a quietly appraising look. "It is not seemly to make light of
the Folk, my Lord. You never know what unseen ears might hear."

Quatre
had to laugh aloud at that. "It seems that a man who braved as many battles
as you would do better than to speak with a fearful voice about figments of the
villagers' imaginations. Faeries, indeed. Crop failure and northern raiders
provide enough to worry about without dwelling upon tales of piskies used to
frighten children." His eyes narrowed with cunning, "However, thanks
to the tales, if I do go that way, I should be left alone."

"Do
not speak so of things you can not hope to understand, Master Quatre. You would
do well to remember that even legends and bard's tales must have some roots in
the truth." Unable to stay cross with the youngster for long, Rashid said,
"That is why I suggested you ride that way � there have been so many new
stories told of that wildwood lately that I think even your Magunac guards would
be reluctant to follow you in there. They say that a faery knight haunts the
lanes and bowers of Carterhaugh, and that he demands a terrible price from any
that he encounters. So ride softly through your lands, Lord of Carterhaugh."

Quatre
threw himself onto Sandrock, and from this vantage point, he was only slightly
taller than Rashid. "Don't worry," he called over his shoulder as he
urged the horse from the barn and into the early afternoon sun. "I'm sure
that Sandrock can outrun any faery beast."
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Trowa Lin