Trowa Lin | By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 524 -:- 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. |
Trowa Lin 4
The
fingers in his hair became steadily harder to ignore. "Duo, leave me 'lone.
Don' wanna get up." Quatre mumbled.
"Duo
must be the most incredibly lucky person in the world." A warm voice curled
around in his ears. "To be the one who usually wakes you." The fingers
paused for a moment, and then began to gently massage Quatre's frowning temple.
"I've never seen quite that color blue before, will you open your eyes so
that I might see it again?"
Quatre
contemplated the situation for a moment. Taking stock, he found that he was
lying prone, and his head was cradled on something that was somehow both hard
and soft. He started to struggle upright, but a steady hand held his shoulder
down.
"Now,
now, go easy. I'm not sure why you passed out, but I would prefer that you not
do it again." The voice was soothingly smooth. "I hope it wasn't
me," it conversationally continued. "Although I am a stranger to
mortal eyes, I would hate to think myself that unpleasant to behold."
Something about those words made Quatre panic, and he started to twist about
under the restraining hand. "Shhh, be still – I would not willingly hurt
you, fair princeling."
"Where
am I?" Quatre finally found the ability to venture.
"Currently,
you are resting your tousled little head in my lap." The voice was rich
with suppressed laughter.
"Quit
toying with me!" Quatre snapped, finally opening his eyes. The lips above
him were quirked in a half smile, and the blindingly green eyes were partially
shaded by a rich fall of golden-brown hair. Quatre blinked slowly and refocused
on the face looming above his own. The cheekbones were high, and the nose finely
sloped and slightly pointed. It was, however, the lips that locked Quatre's
attention. They were full and colored a lickable dusky rose. Quatre thought 'I
wonder if they feel as soft as they look' and found his willful hand attempting
to explore the possibility on its own. His fingers were level with the
stranger's strong chin before he realized their intent and forced them back down
to his side. The lips smiled at this.
"Let
me up."
"Certainly,
m'lord." The other snaked a hand under Quatre's shoulder and pushed him
gently upwards. Quatre sat for a moment, and then turned himself to face the
stranger.
The
young man before him was stretched out elegantly on the grass. He crossed his
impossibly long legs at the ankle, pulling green silk pants taut over hard thigh
muscles, and cocked his head at Quatre, while leaning back on his arms. Quatre
skated his glance over the amused face, down broad shoulders and chest, and then
forced himself to meet the bewitching gaze again. Although the eyes were the
most incredibly captivating shade of green, they failed to have the same
overpowering effect a second time.
"Are
you a faerie?" was the only thing that Quatre could think to say.
"No,
no. " The other's laughter danced into Quatre's ear. "I am faerie kith
and faerie kin, but I am not faerie kind."
"Would
you give me your name, then?"
The
boy's smile took a wistful bent. "I have no name but the one you give
me."
"Do
you always talk like that?"
"Like
what?" was the reply, through an enigmatic smirk.
"It
seems that everything you say is less than the truth, but then at the same time,
more than the truth. " When the other replied with a simple shrug, Quatre
lost his attempt to restrain his rising temper. The anger boiled through his
head, steaming away the vestiges of the surreal that lingered there. Quatre
closed his eyes as the day shifted around him once again, and when he opened
them, he forced himself to truly look at the one before him. "Do I know
you?" he asked unsteadily.
"Do
you?"
Quatre
frowned a little, but was not discouraged. He crawled forward until his knee
brushed the other's thigh, and sat back on his haunches. Carefully, as if
approaching a wild beast or frightened child, he brushed the sleek bangs back
from the face and studied it intently. "Trowa?" Quatre's restless eyes
searched the impassive features for confirmation. Although he received none, he
could not check the growing certainty bubbling through his chest.
"Trowa?" he questioned again.
"I
cannot tell you, you must tell me."
Quatre
refused to let the anger rise up again. Instead he took the refined face between
both his hands and turned it so their eyes could lock. He forced himself to hold
steady against the green that wanted to befuddle him again, and stared hard,
trying to find the truth of the other's soul. Seconds stretched into minutes
with only the muted sound of breathing between them. The eyes invited Quatre
willingly in, but there was an elusiveness within them that struggled under
Quatre's intent stare. "Trowa!" he finally breathed with conviction,
hesitating only a moment before throwing his arms around the other in an
unbalancing hug.
"Quatre,"
came the whispered agreement in his ear as the pair fell back onto the springy
ground.
Quatre
found himself laughing and crying at the same time, and the only word he was
able to speak was "Trowa." Trowa's solid arms surrounded him,
clenching convulsively around his shoulder and lower back. They rolled together,
and when Quatre was on the bottom, he could feel Trowa's hot tears on his neck.
It was his turn to comfort, "Shhh, shhh, it's alright, you're found now,
everything will be alright. Don't cry, my Trowa, I'll take care of you
now."
Trowa
slowly pushed himself off of Quatre, offering the smaller boy a hand as he sat
back up. He scrubbed at his eyes to empty them, and then reached a finger out to
clear Quatre's tears. "I may be found, but I'm not home yet." He said
under his breath.
"Well,
then let's get you there. Do you have a mount? I'm not sure that Sandrock could
carry two, but your father's castle would be less than two hours walk from here.
Everyone will be so happy to see you. I'm so happy to see you." Quatre
could not resist throwing his arms around Trowa in a slightly more restrained
embrace.
"No."
It was barely more than a whisper in Quatre's ear. "I cannot leave the
woods of Carterhaugh. I must await my Lady here."
"You've
married?" Quatre tried not to let the sudden shock dull his happiness, as
he pulled away. "Yes, well, I suppose that you're old enough, now. Will she
be long? May we wait for her together, and then travel on? It has been so long,
I would not lose you again so soon." He pulled back again to drink in
Trowa's face. It had twisted into an expression that Quatre could not quite
place.
"A
bridegroom to my Lady?" Trowa laughed, but it sounded bitter to Quatre.
"No, not I. And I would not have you see her. Nor she, you."
"But…"
"No,
I am not her Lord, I am her knight, and by her command, I spend my days here,
guarding her beloved roses. She would hate to have them sullied by other human's
hands."
"Your
Lady is a faerie, then?" A slight nod was all the response that Quatre
received. To his growing horror, all the pieces began to slide into place.
"The faeries took you? When we were nine… when you disappeared?" The
nod answered again. "And you can not leave?" A small shrug this time.
"You aren't allowed to answer me, are you? Something they've done to
you…"
"I
am forbidden to tell you anything but what you already know. You understood well
enough, before."
Quatre
stopped for a moment to replay their conversation in his mind. "Not the
truth, but more than the truth…" he parroted himself. "So, there's
truth in everything you tell me, but there are lies as well." Trowa's gaze
was impassive and unreadable. "So there must be some way to set you free,
but I have to figure it out for myself." He pondered for a moment, but then
another fragment of their talk pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.
"Guard the roses?" he asked, remembering the one that he had
inadvertently plucked. He could see it shining softly; still stubbornly silver,
in the grass just over Trowa's shoulder. "Guard them how?"
Trowa's
brow furrowed, perhaps at the change of topic, but he answered. "Yes, I
must protect them from human hands. And if by chance I fail my duty and a person
manages to pick one, I must collect the payment."
"Payment?"
The word came out as a squeak.
"Yes
– there are three things that my Lady allows me to accept as payment for one
of her blooms. A ring of gold, a mantle green, or," Trowa hesitated
briefly," or one's maidenhead." His frown deepened as he saw the color
draining from Quatre's face. He shut his eyes with a sigh and pressed his lips
together tightly. "You picked one, didn't you, Quatre?" he asked
without opening his eyes.
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