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Trowa Lin	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 517 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Trowa Lin 3

The
steady beating of Sandrock's hooves, combined with the fresh breeze and midday
sun worked like an elixir on Quatre's overtired soul. With each stride taken
away from the castle, Sandrock pounded another of Quatre's problems further into
the ground. The pair cantered easily down the long clear road, and then cut
across a small, groomed hunting preserve to avoid passing through a nearby
village. After Sandrock's wild whinnying and Quatre's answering laughter
scattered the deer and wild boar, they burst from the forested land and began
flying past field after field of the rich farm land covering the Winner
holdings. Since it was Sunday, few people were out working, and those that saw
Quatre were content to merely wave as Sandrock carried their young lord by them.

Quatre
simply concentrated on the sensation of being free, and the rolling movement of
Sandrock's hard muscles beneath his thighs. On any other day, he likely would
have stopped to inquire about the health of each farmer's family, and to
complement the man on his crops. But today, he wanted no reminder of his status
and duties. He rode on for the better part of an hour, alternating between a
canter and a trot, until Sandrock pulled up next to a smallish river. The spring
rains had been absorbed, leaving the water at its summer level, a scant two feet
deep. Quatre canted his weight back in the saddle as Sandrock eased down the
bank to drink, trusting his horse enough to release his feet from the stirrups
and lay back until the top of his head brushed the top of Sandrock's tail. He
was so absorbed in watching the clouds drift overhead that he did not realize
Sandrock had crossed the river until the horse began to climb the opposite bank.
Quatre felt himself begin to slide a little with the new angle, and tightened
his legs around the horse to keep from slipping back into the river.

"Dear
heart, I had not really intended to cross here. You might have asked."
Quatre informed the horse as he sat up. Sandrock's left ear flipped back with a
practiced disinterest. "I have not ridden this way in a long time. This was
always the short cut that Trowa and I took when visiting each other�"
Quatre stopped. "Why did that name come up again? That's the third time
today, and I had not even dare think it to myself in twice as many years."
The horse had no answer, so Quatre changed the subject.

"Well,
love, what do you think of my birthday present?" For, in crossing the
river, they had come to the edge of Quatre's newly acquired lands. While the
other side of the river had been clear cut long ago, the forest hung over the
bank on this side. The surrounding greenery enveloped horse and rider, hushing
all of the day's sounds. The remains of a broad, disused path stretched on
ahead, and Sandrock nimbly wove between the few saplings growing in the road as
he began to follow the way briskly. Quatre stood in his stirrups and reached
between his mounts ears to thump the beast gently. "Hello in there? I don't
recall telling you to start walking." He lightly grabbed one of the arched
and pointed ears, draping his torso across Sandrock's neck to speak directly
into it, "Rider to horse. This is Master Quatre speaking, and I demand that
you stop." Sandrock twitched the ear that Quatre held, but gave no other
acknowledgement to the boy. Quatre laughed at this as he sat back, "I just
can't win today. Alright, then, forward march!"

Sandrock
tossed his head and snorted at his master's whimsy. The boy himself began to
survey his new domain. The path, aside from not having been used in almost eight
years, remained much as it had in his memory. Great towering oaks lined either
side of the roadway, the upper branches crossing high above to form a protective
roof over the travelers. The curved branches and serene feeling remind Quatre of
the ceiling of the great cathedral he had once visited with his father, where
the roof beams had arched overhead like the great ribs of an overturned ship.

Green
pressed in at Quatre from all sides; he felt as if he was slowly being wrapped
in a blanket that blocked out all but the sensation of greenness. And although
he could hear no birdsong, Quatre swore he could hear the green whispering to
him in some almost known tongue. "Faeries indeed," he echoed his
earlier sentiment in an attempt to shake the strange feeling that had crept up
his back to nestle in the base of his neck. The path before Sandrock appeared to
be free of brush, so Quatre urged the horse into a trot. The increased speed
felt so good that Quatre asked for a canter. The giddiness engendered by this
new burst of speed forced Quatre to demand a gallop. Quatre stood in his
stirrups and crouched low over Sandrock's neck to take in the full effect of the
speed. He was so intent on the feel of the wind and whipping mane in his face
that he did not note the bunching of Sandrock's muscles underneath him until the
last moment, and as a result, he nearly lost his seat as the horse jumped over a
small downed tree. Sandrock immediately sensed his master's distress and halted
to give the boy time to regain his balance.

"Always
protecting me, aren't you, my fine lad?" Quatre panted. The horse blew hard
in agreement. The green quickly rushed in to surround the pair again, but not
before Quatre glimpsed a riot of color on his left side. "What's
this?" he asked himself as he turned Sandrock's head in that direction.
When the horse took a few steps, a rose filled bower was revealed. Wild climbing
roses of every scent, size, and color twisted around each other to form a small,
room like area just off of the main path. Quatre dropped down from Sandrock's
back, quickly stripping the saddle and bridle so the horse could graze, and
said, "Be good, now" as he stepped into the shaded enclosure.

It
was nearly impossible to tell where one rose bush began and another left off.
Quatre tried to follow the colors; deep red, dusky rose, faintest pink, warm
white, and golden yellow, but the vines were too intertwined for much sense to
be made of the dizzying pattern. Colors chased each other around the perimeter,
colliding in vibrant splashes and swirls. The smell filling his nose was beyond
sweet. Whereas the scent from his family's rose garden had nearly sickened him
earlier in the day, the combined perfume from these flowers seem to fill his
belly with a contented warmth. Quatre stepped further inside, and when he noted
the lush grass beneath his feet, he could not resist removing his boots,
allowing his toes to wiggle freely in the cool blades.

Quatre
moved to the center of the circular area and sat, busily turning himself this
way and that, to better catalogue the amazing variety of colors surrounding him.
It seemed to him that he had never seen quite that shade of pink in the past,
and he knew he'd never before beheld a rose so red that it was almost black.
There were white petals tipped in lavender, and roses that danced with all the
reds and oranges of a flame. Each newly discovered color led his eyes to the
next until he happened to spot a single flower that seemed to glow silver in the
filtered light. "It must be a trick of shadows and sunlight," Quatre
murmured. "No flower could truly be that color." He found it strange,
however, that the focus of his attention was entirely surrounded by darker buds,
not one other light rose could be found within two feet.

He
stood on ride-rubbered legs and approached the gently nodding flower. The closer
he came, the more stubbornly silver the petals remained. Quatre reached forward
to softly catch the stem between two fingers, intent on interrogating the rose.
At the exact moment his fingers closed on the stalk, his foot caught on some
unnoticed protuberance in the ground and Quatre found himself falling. In his
panic, he tightened his fingers on the rose, and the flower snapped off the vine
with an echoing crack. He clutched it tightly as he sprawled on the lumpy ground
below.

The
lumpy ground then spoke, "While this is a delightful way to awaken,
and you have placed yourself so artful as to have not damaged any of my
more, ah, delicate parts, I find that I should ask you to removed yourself from
my lap, young lady."

Quatre
felt the blood rushing to his face. He could not tell if the blush was from
embarrassment or anger at being mistaken for a female, and a hundred witty
retorts raced to be the first from his lips as he drew himself up on hands and
knees to respond. All the possible words died away, however, as Quatre looked in
the eyes of the one who had addressed him, and found himself immediately
swallowed by the green.
- 2
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- 4
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Trowa Lin