Heero quickly discovered that the Prince of Ghali did not make a very good patient. He spent the next several days being treated to an extremely petulant, grouchy, and even whiny husband and it amused him to no end. Trowa was accustomed to his convalescent behavior and just nodded his head with infinite patience as Quatre pouted, bleated, begged, and railed at him. Currently, he was trying to convince Trowa to let him sit up, tired of being forced to lie on his belly.
"Trowa, for the love of God! I can sit up. I'm fine."
Trowa pressed his hand on the blond head, gently, but firmly pushing the boy back down. "No. You need to wait a few more days. If you move too much, you're going to reopen your wounds just like you did the other day and it took hours to stop the bleeding. Lie. Down."
"I'm not going to reop -"
"Quatre."
Heero smirked as the blond sulked, for once being the one who was ordered around. He glanced at his husband for a little help, but Heero put his hands up.
"You heard the doc. It's out of my hands."
Quatre dropped his head back down onto the bed and glared at the wall. "I'm so bored, I'm going to die."
Trowa rolled his eyes. "You're not going to die of boredom."
"I am."
"Then I'll remember to bring your favorite flowers to your funeral."
Heero chuckled. The interactions between the Prince and his servant were some of the most touching he'd ever seen. It reminded him of his relationship with Wufei and Duo. He swallowed down the aching nostalgia at the thought of his friends. He missed them, missed his home, his village. His gloom must have been more obvious than he realized because Quatre tipped his head and frowned at him.
"Is something the matter?"
Besides you being whipped within an inch of your life? No. Everything's dandy. "I was...thinking about home."
Quatre's eyes softened. "You know you're free to go see them."
Heero looked up in surprise. "I am?"
"Of course! You can go wherever you want."
"But...you can't." He felt bad about saying that, but it was true.
"We are not the same. I'm a native Ghalian and I've been treated this way my whole life. Like a helpless little flower," he said it grudgingly, disgusted with the concept. "You're different. You're an outsider. You have privileges that I don't."
Heero was doubtful. "All the more reason for them not to trust me to leave."
"They don't have to trust you, but they can't stop you."
Heero thought about it. "Okay. I'll test your theory and go see them in a few days. We'll see what happens, I suppose. I want them to know I'm alright and I want to make sure they are."
"Understandable." Quatre nodded against the pillow. "Tell them I am sorry about all this."
"I'm not." And Heero meant it. Both Quatre and Trowa glanced up at him in surprise and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He actually felt comfortable here with the Prince and his servant. A warm camaraderie much like he felt at home. He liked them, could even consider them tentative friends. His eyes met Quatre's and the two shared a smile. Heero felt a surge of something he wasn't sure he understood. Something like the concept that he would miss the Prince when he was gone which was something he never expected. Something like an intangible rush of affection for the boy. It left him with a strange fluttering in his stomach, almost dizzy with elation in his presence. He thought about him constantly, worried about him. His arms yearned to hold, his hands to touch. It also left him with a frustrating arousal and while he was familiar with arousal, it had never been as strong, or as focused on a single person before.
He'd been there during the worst of Quatre's healing, seeing the boy at his most vulnerable as he was laid out helplessly on Trowa's bed, oozing blood and babbling through delirious fevers. He held his hand while he moaned in pain when Trowa cleaned his wounds and applied healing salve to the cuts. He held his head as he sweat profusely during those late night fevers, vomiting up the water he and Trowa had to force feed him to keep him hydrated. He'd listened to his ramblings, nonsensical murmurs while he fought his way through his worst, most sickest moments.
It didn't revolt him. He found himself wanting to do it. Wanting to take care of him. Trowa was not initially happy about it. Glaring at Heero when he smoothed sweaty curls away from Quatre's face and pressed cool compresses against his forehead in an attempt to bring his temperature down. Spoke softly to him when he slurred out the images in his mind that only he could see. The servant was jealous, there was no doubt about that. Even more so when it seemed Quatre wanted Heero by his side.
Heero didn't want to hurt Trowa, certainly did not want to make him angry, but Quatre was his husband. It was only fitting that the two of them became closer over time and Heero wanted nothing more than to increase that closeness the more he got to know the Prince.
Trowa stood up and glared at him. "You're going to leave him?"
"Trowa," Quatre admonished.
Heero shook his head. "Only for a few days. I need to see my family, my friends."
Trowa stepped closer. "And the Queen?"
Heero cocked his head. "What?"
"You planning on betraying us?"
"Trowa, that's enough," Quatre scolded. "He just wants to go home for a few days, that's all. That's his right."
Trowa turned to him. "Are you sure that's all he's going to do?"
"Trowa, what has gotten into you?"
"What's gotten into me? What's gotten into you? You've been fawning all over this - this Saian for the last few days!" Trowa was breathing hard, not bothering to hide his jealousy now.
Quatre flushed, apparently not realizing he'd been rather obvious. He looked up, his expression defensive. "He's my husband!"
"Seems like you're enjoying that fact. I thought this was to escape your betrothal."
"Hey," Heero spoke up. "That is enough. You will not speak to him that way."
Trowa got into his face and Heero allowed it, for the moment. "Who do you think you are? You think just because you married our Prince that you know anything about any of us? That you can just come in here and insert yourself into our lives and order me around? I've been here far longer than you have. I've seen him and nursed him through things you can't even imagine. I have been here every step of the way so don't think you have any say over what goes on between the two of us."
Quatre was trying to struggle into a seated position and Heero and Trowa both turned on him. "Lay down!" Quatre glared murderously at both of them, but obeyed, flopping down with a soft, "Ow."
Heero looked back at Trowa. "I'm not trying to insert myself between you and I'm not trying to boss you around, but I think you're just a little too irrational -" His head swung to the side as Trowa's fist collided with his cheek.
Quatre gasped. "Trowa, stop!"
The servant was panting, rage seeping through his very pores. Heero turned his head back to face him, cheek throbbing and hot. He didn't strike back even though it was within his rights, but he made very clear if it happened again, he would. His eyes hardened and he said, "I know you don't like me, but you are going to have to get used to me being around. I'm not going anywhere. Quatre is my husband like it, or not and that makes him my responsibility. You can be as angry about that as you want, but you are not allowed to lash out at either of us like that again. Understood?"
Trowa's chest rose and fell rapidly and Quatre's soft, pleading voice carried across the room. "Trowa, please. Calm down. Don't do this." Trowa turned to look at him, his eyes traveling over the expanse of Quatre's torn back. That beautiful skin, marred for this Saian. It made him sick. But he loved and respected Quatre too much to cause problems for him.
"Fine. I apologize for striking you and for accusing you of plotting against us. But if I ever find out you were, or if you cause him anymore harm than you already have, I will have your blood. That's a promise."
Heero nodded. "Understood."
Trowa stood down. "Good." He glanced back at Quatre one last time, his expression softening. "I need some air. Will you be alright?"
"Of course I will. Oh, Trowa. Come here." Quatre's arm lifted and gestured him over and Trowa went to him immediately, ducking under the slender limb as Quatre wrapped it around his neck. "You know you will always be special to me."
"But he's special to you, too now, isn't he?"
Quatre's eyes slid over to Heero and he excused himself to let the two talk. He really hoped Trowa wasn't going to cause problems because he had every intention of pursuing a relationship with Prince. He left the chambers to get some air himself and to give Quatre and Trowa some privacy. He was still amazed that whenever he walked though the castle and the surrounding grounds that he was treated like royalty. It didn't seem to matter that he was Saian. At least to most people. A few made their displeasure known, but so far, it had only been a minor inconvenience.
He was still trying to get used to his new clothing and to the required decorations he was adorned with since he'd gained his Princely status. The blue tunica was long and almost trailed along the floor, much more difficult to move around in than his former shirt and breeches. The fabrics were different as well. Smooth, silky, light because of the heat of the region. It was much warmer in Ghali compared to the more temperate region of Sai which resided in the higher elevations.
On his arms were silver bands that took some getting used to. They bothered him the first few days and he was constantly adjusting the circlet on his head, feeling like it was going to fall off. He nodded to a few of the guards when they bowed to him as he strolled through the halls on his way to the courtyard. He wondered what his friends and family would say when he showed up dressed the way he was. Just the circlet on his head was worth far more than anything he'd ever hoped to own in his life.
He stopped short when he turned a corner and came face to face with King Zayeed. The man tipped his chin up and gave him a condescending look. Heero stared back, eyebrow raised, waiting to see if there would be a confrontation.
"Heero," he said, the tone of the King's voice resonant with disdain. "I would like a word with you."
"Alright." Well, this should be interesting. He followed the King to an empty room and stood with his arms crossed over his chest as the King closed the doors behind them.
He turned and gave Heero a cursory glance. "How are you adjusting to this new life of yours?"
"Just fine, thank you."
"So it would seem. I couldn't help but notice how comfortable you appear to be. How comfortable you seem to be with my son."
"I am honored to know your son."
"Are you now?"
Heero's head dipped once. "Yes. He is a...remarkable individual."
The King turned towards the window, his hands behind his back. "And have the two of you consummated this marriage of yours?"
"Not yet."
The King looked at him over his shoulder. "Yet?"
"Yes. Yet."
"So you plan on bedding my son."
"Well, I'm not going to force him unlike some people around here." Heero shot him a pointed look. "But if he is ever willing to reciprocate, then I would not be opposed."
"I see." The King ran the tip of his finger along the edge of a mahogany table. "I've received word from your Queen. She is...less than thrilled about this arrangement. As am I."
"I don't see how that should concern me."
The King's mouth curled up. "You are a peasant through and through. You have no regard for the ways of things -"
"I have no need for the stuffy, superficially false ways of those who believe they are better than the rest of us."
"You are aware that your husband is from that world."
"Yes, but Quatre is nothing like that."
The King nodded. "Yes, that is my fault."
"It's not a fault. It's what makes him so special. It's why your people love him."
"My people do not love him, as you say."
But Heero remembered what he saw back at the town square when Quatre had been whipped. They did love him. Probably far more than their King. "I beg to differ."
The King turned on him. "And what would you know about what my people think? About our ways?"
Heero lifted his chin. "I know what I saw. And...your ways? Your ways apparently seem to be to force a young boy into a betrothal with a much older man. A man who has no respect for Quatre as a person."
"Which shows how little you know of the ways of the world. Quatre's engagement wasn't only for him, though I admit, much of it was. He needs a man who will keep him in line." Heero bristled at that, but the King continued. "It was also a preemptive political decision."
"A political decision that would ensure that you and your men will continue to violate the terms of the treaty and conquer land that does not belong to you. Forgive me for not feeling terrible about that."
The King's hands curled into fists. "You have single-handedly destroyed everything I've done to secure the future of Ghali."
"With all due respect, Your Highness. Making decisions that would push the hands of the surrounding rulers into war is not securing Ghali's future."
The King's eyes narrowed. "What could you possibly understand, peasant boy?"
"I understand far more than you give me credit for. In fact, Quatre's decision to marry me just might be the one thing that saves Ghali from the dismal future that you are so dead set on creating for them."
"How dare you!"
"Are we finished?" Heero asked mildly. "I must go check on my husband. He is still healing from those injuries you inflicted on him."
"He inflicted those on himself!"
"He protected himself from a dangerously sadistic marriage, protected me and my friend from being unjustly executed, and protected Ghali from war." He turned to leave. "And by the way, it is quite indicative of what kind of father you are when you do not even bother to check on your injured son's well being."
King Zayeed was shaking with rage. "You little bastard!"
"Oh, and one more thing. I will be visiting with my family in Sai for a few days. I will be back and I expect to be welcomed with open arms. I expect my husband and his servant to be sound and safe and unharmed when I return."
The King sneered. "Or what?"
Heero smiled. "Or I'll bring Hell down upon this place, the likes of which you've never seen before."
The King laughed derisively. "What could you possibly do to the most powerful monarchy in the region?"
"Never underestimate a peasant."