AU, fantasy, yaoi, OOC, for Trowa-bat-admin-sama-muse-san with love.

Totally confused? You have the right to be.
Action takes up immediately where p5 left off.

A sort of tension seemed to seep away from Trowa's posture. "That's good to know."

"Do you... think about what it will be like often?" Quatre asked.

"Sometimes. It's hard not to, when it's all that you've been raised for." He sounded more resigned than bitter.

"Sounds like court life," Quatre said wistfully. "From the moment you're born, people start training you for the future, and there's never any room to wonder what else you might have become."

"It seems the stars have us all trapped, then. It hardly seems fair."

"I'm sorry, Trowa. Believe me, if I had any choice in the matter, you wouldn't have to listen to what the astrologers say," Quatre said softly. Then he smiled. "What would you do if you were free to do whatever you wanted?"

Trowa looked startled. "What would *I* do? I--don't know."

Quatre chuckled. Surely there must be *something*, Trowa. So what is it?"

"What would you be?" Trowa countered.

Quatre grinned hugely, jumping to his feet. "I'd be a great warrior, like they had in ancient times--I'd roam the world, conquering evil and rescuing damsels in distress." He winked at Trowa. "The world would tremble at the merest mention of my name!"

Trowa looked at him calmly. "I think you read too many adventure novels while you were a child."

Quatre struck what he considered to be a heroic pose. "Doesn't it suit me?" He grinned, flexing his muscles dramatically, and was rewarded with a smile.

"And what would you do with the damsels you rescued?" Trowa inquired, playing along.

"I don't know, send them home, likely." Quatre flopped down next to Trowa. "How about you?"

Trowa considered it. "Being a warrior sounds... entertaining. At least, the way you describe it."

"You could be my sidekick," Quatre offered.

"Only your sidekick?" Trowa protested mildly.

"Well, every great hero needs a sidekick," Quatre enthused. "It's hard even for heroes to slay dragons alone."

"But... a sidekick? That has so little dignity," Trowa murmured.

Quatre laughed. "Okay, okay, my partner, then. Better?"

Trowa nodded. "I suppose it will do. Conquering evil and rescuing damsels, then?"

"And treasure, you can't forget that!" Quatre added. "Those dragons have to have hoards, you know. It's a rule."

"But what do you do with that much treasure?" Trowa wondered.

"Uh..." Quatre pondered it. "You spend it all in taverns? I'm not sure...."

"Maybe the treasure is just a way to keep score," Trowa offered.

"Okay, I'll accept that. But how do you know you've won?"

Trowa just shrugged.

Quatre sighed. "Ah, well, I suppose it doesn't really matter. We'll never have to worry about it, right?" Trowa watched, somewhat amazed, as Quatre's expansive mood ebbed swiftly, leaving only seriousness behind. "You know, this must be the first time I've seen you open up so much," he remarked. "Why do you close yourself off so much?"

"It's... a matter of trust," Trowa said quietly.

Quatre stared at him, confused. "But you can't have ever been exposed to anything that would make you *this* wary," he objected. Then he looked at Trowa more closely. "Or have you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Trowa replied. "Please."

"All right... if you don't want to, then you shouldn't have to." Quatre bit his lower lip, suddenly and unaccountably angry with whatever it had been to make Trowa so defensive.

"Thank you." A pause, lengthy and weighty, then unexpectedly: "Why are *you* so interested in me?"

"Me?--"

"You. You're far more intrigued by me than anyone who's on a fact- finding mission only for another man should be."

"Er..." *Tell him, just tell him and get it over with.* "I, um. You see, I--" *Oh, hell.* "It's hard to explain."

"Obviously." Trowa's eyes were softened slightly--in amusement?

"Well, I don't think it's that damn funny," Quatre said crossly.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" he asked innocently.

"Hmmph. I can *tell* you think it's funny," Quatre retorted, crossing his arms and staring at Trowa petulantly from the corner of his eye.

Trowa lifted that eyebrow. "You think you're perceptive, hm?"

Quatre uncrossed his arms and poked Trowa's shoulder with a finger. "You just don't want to admit it."

"All right, fine, I think you're funny," Trowa said, surrendering.

Quatre smiled at him. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"You're persistent."

"I have to be, Trowa, it's part of my job." *Uh-oh...*

"Which reminds me--you still haven't explained..."

*Damn it. But he deserves honesty.* Quatre opened his mouth to explain. "I--you're fascinating. You're nothing like I expected, and I just want to get to know you more." *Wait a minute, that's _not_ what I meant to say!* "What I mean is, I came here to find out what you were like, but now I wand to know more than just the details." *That's _still_ not what I need to say!* "I'm not quite who you think I am--"

"I know," Trowa said calmly.

"You do?" Quatre's jaw dropped, and he twisted his body to sit sideways, fully facing Trowa. "I--er--I mean, how?"

*Surely he didn't think I was _that_ naive.* "I could tell," the aristocrat said simply.

Quatre sighed in relief. "I'm sorry, I didn't really want to deceive you, truly I didn't. You just aren't anything like I had expected, and I wasn't quite sure how to tell you when I realized that--you aren't angry, I hope?" He looked at Trowa hopefully.

*Why should I be angry? He's only taking advantage of an opportunity...* "It's all right. I expected it."

Quatre cocked his head to one side and chuckled. "I'm afraid I underestimated you, Trowa. Or overestimated my own capabilities. Forgive my presumption, please."

Trowa nodded his head slightly. "If you like."

Quatre looked rueful. "I'm really only sorry that we didn't come to this understanding earlier. It could have saved us a great deal of time."

"That's a businesslike way to put it."

Quatre laughed. "But that's all that politics *is*. Business."

"I see." *Well, this is refreshing... almost brutally direct, but refreshing nonetheless.* Trowa considered the Southerner carefully. What he seemed to be offering, however discreetly, was dangerous... then again, he acted rather more honest than--well, Quatre seemed almost to really care, and it didn't require a lot of experience to know that this was a rare and priceless thing. *The risk... is acceptable.*

"I'm glad that I came north," Quatre was telling him, for some reason looking shy. "I was uncertain at first... and you acted as if you didn't really appreciate the intrusion."

"Perhaps I didn't."

Quatre coughed. "I apologize, then. You don't mind now, do you?"

"...no." And he meant it. He rather liked Quatre, and Duo and Heero. In another life, they might have all four been very good friends.

Moving tentatively, almost like he was afraid of what might come of it, Quatre picked up Trowa's hand. It was warm and fit comfortably with his own. "I'm glad."

Trowa looked slowly down at their loosely entwined fingers. Such a simple gesture... but it felt nice. Comforting, almost, like the hugs Cathrine tended bestow so freely. So he left his hand in Quatre's grasp. "How much longer will you stay here?" he asked instead.

"I don't really know. I suspect Duo has an alternative to traveling through the ice and snow, but even if he doesn't... I can't stay away from court very much longer," Quatre said apologetically. "A few days or a week, but not more."

"That's... not much time."

Quatre sighed. "No, it's not, but it was all we could spare." He grimaced dramatically. "You wouldn't believe how busy the palace is getting ready for the wedding. Frankly, I'm glad to have escaped, if only for a little while."

Trowa tensed somewhat at the mention of the wedding, his fingers tightening around Quatre's briefly before he relaxed. "What is it like at court?" he asked softly.

Quatre wavered briefly. "Do you want to hear the gaudy details or about what it's really like?"

"The truth, please."

The prince sighed. "It's not as pretty as it appears on the surface. Nothing is, not in the Eternal City. The palace is beautiful and the people who roam its halls are splendid, but the whole thing is rotten. The palace was built on the back of slaves, and the courtiers are all vipers, treacherous and interested only in their own gain. They lie and cheat and backstab, all with the faces of angels. They care nothing for anything beyond their own sybaritic pleasures and personal pursuits of power. The great mass of common people that they profess to represent mean nothing to them, except as an opportunity to amass more wealth or power." Quatre stopped himself and his tirade. "Sorry. I shouldn't sound so bitter. It just enrages me sometimes. There are good people, too. I'm fortunate to have Duo and Heero as friends. And there are others... others who hope that when the time comes, we can effect changes." Quatre smiled at him. "I'll bet you're sorry you asked."

"Not really. I wanted to know."

Quatre laughed, and Trowa looked at him. "Ah, you're going to amaze the courtiers--They're so used to loquacious, effusive speeches. This habit of yours of speaking simply and directly will catch them all by surprise."

"Heero isn't that talkative," Trowa pointed out.

"That's not what Duo says," Quatre smirked. "Especially when he's in the, er, right frame of mind." Trowa snorted. "Besides, everyone is used to his ways by now."

"Why speak if there's nothing to say?" Trowa asked.

Quatre smiled. "I like that... but do you really think there's so little to say?"

The other noble shrugged. "When it comes to myself... yes."

"You shouldn't be so diffident," scolded Quatre. "I think you have more of value than many courtiers I know."

"I'm flattered."

Quatre frowned. *How do I make him see what I _know_ is there?* "Trowa... you're worth more than you let yourself believe," he said quietly. "I don't know how to make you believe that, but it's true."

Trowa snorted again. "You're too optimistic."

"Maybe you're just too cynical," Quatre countered.

"Maybe I have reason to be."

A long silence passed before Quatre said, carefully, "What happened?" He watched the ice flow back into Trowa's eyes, replacing what softness had just been there.

"Nothing I want to talk about."

"...are you sure?"

Trowa's eyes were two pieces of ice that refused to yield to Quatre's gentle pressure. Quatre allowed the point to pass by. "Maybe you'll tell me about it some other time."

"I doubt it."

*Well, there went _that_ talkative mood.* Quatre tried to lift his hand to rub his forehead, remembering too late that he was still holding Trowa's hand like it were the only right thing for him to be doing. *I'm still... heh. Who'd have thought it?* He laughed silently at himself.

Trowa was looking at him again, with that expression of granite, and Quatre frowned. "You should smile more often," he announced seriously. Trowa made a noncommittal noise, and Quatre plunged on. "Really, I mean it. It changes your entire face, makes you seem less stern and aloof. Still perfect, of course, but gentler." Quatre paused. *What the hell has possessed me today?*

Trowa lifted his eyebrow in what seemed to be his favorite expression of amusement, disbelief, and curiosity. "Perfect?"

"Mmhm. You don't believe me." With his free hand, Quatre gently guided Trowa's face around so that they were looking each other in the eye. "Even if you *do* hide your face behind this hair." He teasingly flicked at the fall of hair that covered half of Trowa's face, noting absently that it was shockingly soft. "I think most of it is your eyes--do you know how many women would kill to have eyes like yours?" Quatre cupped his hand around the curve of Trowa's cheekbones, the pads of his fingers grazing the skin lightly.

Trowa shivered at the bare whisper of Quatre's thumb ghosting over the plane of his cheek, coming to rest with the slightest of pressures at the center of his lower lip. The hand holding Trowa's was suddenly damp, the pulse fluttering wildly beneath his fingers. And Quatre was staring at him, eyes full of concentration... and a hint of nervousness? *He's going to--*

Quatre was leaning forward, face approaching Trowa's rapidly, and he pressed his lips to Trowa's in a first faltering, unpracticed kiss. He worried as Trowa failed to respond at first, his lips unyielding against Quatre's, until suddenly Trowa relaxed, allowing his lips to part slightly. Calling on all his theoretical knowledge, Quatre pressed on, darting his tongue out to caress Trowa's lips hesitantly. Emboldened, he coaxed Trowa's mouth open, exploring it hungrily. Unconsciously, he pulled Trowa closer, completely lost in the feeling of Trowa's mouth against his.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?!"

Guiltily, Quatre recoiled back from Trowa, and they both looked at the door.

Cathrine put both hands on her hips, and glared at Quatre. Her gaze never wavering, she spoke. "You. I should have known it. Trowa. If you don't mind, I would like to speak with our 'emissary'. Alone."

Trowa rose without a word, brushing past his sister and shutting the door behind him.

<cough> In case it isn't perfectly clear, Trowa jumped to a very *big* conclusion back there, and it's gonna cost him. <sweat>