If You Listen
Mirror and Image

"But father! We have to defend ourselves! Things have been deteriorated even faster over the years!"

"No! I will not tolerate fighting of any sort in my country. I am a pacifist. I will stay a pacifist! And no boy will tell me what to do otherwise. Do you understand?"

"But-"

"I said, 'Do you understand'."

"… Yes father."

"Good. Now leave. I have more important matters to discuss."

"Yes father."

"How did it go, Master Quatre?" a tall man asked.

"Not very well, Rashid," the youth sighed. The pale youth was sitting in his room, watching the glorious sunset that was bestowing itself upon the desert. The yellow sun was surrounded in a red sky, fading gently to the purple night. The sandy dunes had changed their color from a blinding gold to an indiscernible color. It was beautiful to watch, but somehow, Quatre couldn't bring himself to enjoy it.

"My prince, are you well?"

"Hn? Oh, yes. I am fine. It is just so infuriating trying to have a normal conversation with him. I used to have so many, but now they just deteriorate to the same topic." Quatre paused. "Deteriorate. You know, I used that same word to him trying to explain our political situation?"

"Did it work, Master Quatre?"

He sighed. "Of course not." Prince Quatre turned away from the sunset and faced his servant and bodyguard. "I do not think he realizes that I am a man now. I am seventeen. My cousin is going to be coroneted within the next few months. Soon even I will be old enough to ascend the throne."

"Is that what you want?" Rashid asked.

"No, not really. But he should realize that as a result of that fact that I am well educated. I know what I am talking about." The prince sighed and looked down. "He just doesn't see it." Suddenly very tired, Quatre flopped onto the cushions and pillows that made up his bed. The late summer breeze cooled his white skin, and Rashid quietly retreated, letting his master sleep.

The desert prince meandered through the halls of his father's castle, slightly bored. His lessons weren't for another hour, sword practice had been canceled, and it seemed that all the servants were busy doing this or that. Not really knowing what to do, Quatre took to wandering the halls, a childhood pastime way back when. It was not long before he found himself in the garden. Pausing, he looked up to its greenery. Suddenly feeling the childishness of his early years, the prince climbed up the tallest tree of the garden. He had not done so in years, and it felt good to be amongst the familiar branches and leaves.

The tree had been a gift to him from his cousin. His cousin's country had many trees and felt that he could spare a few seeds to give to Quatre's desert land. The pale prince had loved the gift, and made sure that the gardeners took good care of them, virtually creating the garden by himself. Sitting in the thick branches Quatre could think. A pastime he seemed to do more and more as he grew older and realized the turmoil his country was in.

The desert prince's father was a pacifist, which did him great credit, but from as early as the blond prince could remember, there was political turmoil. Someone did not like the Winner Dynasty, and sought the throne for him or herself. This person had caused many uprisings and upsets over the years. And Quatre could see them coming to a head. He knew that when push came to shove, he and his extended family would have to fight. And yet his father refused. The king's answer was to talk. For everything, the best solution was to talk. And as wise as that decision was, it was not always so wise.

"Master Quatre?"

"Yes Rashid?"

"You have received a letter from your cousin, Prince Duo. He requests your company in his homeland immediately."

Quatre blinked. Blessed Allah that He has given me such fortune! he thought. Now I can see my cousin and enjoy myself a little. The prince quickly hopped down from his tree. "When are we to leave?"

"I have already made preparations for your departure tomorrow morning. Your cousin did say immediately."

"Yes, this is a good thing," the prince said. His mind raced at the possibilities. Seeing his cousin always made him more resilient when facing the home front. A vacation like this could prove quiet good for him. He had been getting a little pale as of late. "I cannot wait to see him again. It has been much too long."

"So I gather, Master Quatre. Your lessons will begin in a few minutes. Do you wish me to start packing?"

Quatre shook his head. "No, I will do that myself after lunch. I must go now, thank you Rashid!" he called as he jogged out of the gardens.

Two weeks later, the desert prince was in the homeland of his mountain counterpart. The blond boy had not seen his cousin for two years, and it was good to return to what had become his second home. Thankful to be off the ship and on the more solid land, Quatre was quick to saddle up and was soon trotting with Rashid through the snowy paths to Duo's castle. Of the entire journey, this was his favorite leg. The forest had a mystical silence about it, and it fascinated the young man. Quatre could not place it, but this forest reminded him of the desert.

The journey came to an end however, as Quatre and Rashid exited the forest and gazed upon the imposing mountain unto itself: the castle. Unlike Quatre's castle, Duo's was solid, firm, and dark. It had small windows and long, poorly lit corridors. It had a musky smell to it, and though the walls were very thick, there was little insulation. Not even the ornately decorated tapestries could warm the dank halls. But it was Duo's home, and with him inside, things seemed much better off.

The pair entered the castle and dismounted their horses. Rashid stayed back to talk with the servants while Quatre ran up to meet his cousin and best friend. Barely noticing the long flights of stairs, the desert prince quickly found his way to the mountain prince's favorite room-the throne room. He paused long enough to asked the man at the doors if the prince was in. The servant nodded and Quatre, ginning widely, burst into the room.

"DUO!!" The blond prince ran toward his cousin.

"Hey! Quat' my man! What's-HEY!!" Before the warning could register, however, Quatre saw a dark shadow shoot out from seemingly nowhere. Without memory of how he got there, the pale prince found himself on the floor, on his back, staring at the tip of a wicked looking sword of some type punctuating his neck. Holding the blade was a boy of about his age, in an odd costume. He had dark hair and a piercing set of cobalt eyes.

"Oi! Hee-kun!" Duo said in an odd tongue. "Yamero! Baka! Kataru desu! OI, YAMETE!!!!"

The costumed boy turned to the braided prince, continuing the conversation in the odd language that Quatre could not recognize. Finally, Duo began speaking more normally.

"Do that again and I'll have to hurt you."

The blue-eyed boy relented his sword with an unimpressed "Hn," and slipped back into the shadows. Duo turned to his cousin.

"Sorry about that. Heero-kun tends to be a little high strung. Very anal." He offered his hand and Quatre gratefully took it, rubbing his precious neck in anxiety.

"Just who, or what was that?"

"Oh," Duo said. "That's Heero-kun. Hang on, I'll introduce you."

"Oh, no. That's quiet alright."

But Duo did not listen as his eyes scanned the room. The desert prince did the same, nervous as to where the youth would next pop up. The braided prince pointed to an un-offensive pillar and called, "Oi! Hee-kun! Doko doko?"

There was an annoyed grunt and lo, right where the mountain prince was pointing, the cobalt-eyed warrior stepped out. "Come introduce yourself!" Duo prompted.

The boy bowed to the floor, obviously annoyed. He said, "Watashi no name wa Yuy Heero desu. Hajimashite."

Quatre gulped and took a guess at what Duo's friend had said. "It is an honor to meet you as well, Hajima … Hamishi … uhm. I am gland to make your acquaintance," he said instead.

"Yuy. Yuy Heero."

"Oh." Quatre flushed at the mistake. "Yuy Heero. I am Prince Quatre Raberba Winner."

"Kataru Rabaaba Winaa. So desu." The youth looked to Duo.

"Oh, alright, you can go back to playing bodyguard. Shoo, shoo!" Another bow, and he was gone. Duo turned to his cousin. "Isn't he awesome?"

Quatre put his hand back to his throat. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"I found him about a couple years ago on this little island nation, practically on the other side of the world. He's the most fascinating person I've ever come across. So I brought him with us on the way back."

Quatre almost didn't ask his next question. "And how did you do that? He does not seem like the type to do as others say."

Duo smiled. "That was the fun part. I beat him in ritual combat."

Quatre almost fell to the floor. "You WHAT??"

The braided prince shrugged, an evil grin on his face. "What can I say? No extended no-datchi in the world can match up to my scythe Deathscythe."

Quatre nodded. "I see."

Duo grinned again. "So let's try this again. Ahem. Hey! Quat' my man! What's uuuuuuuuuup?"

The pair soon fell into their more natural rhythm with each other and it was not long before the incident was forgotten.

"So, what's new in your kingdom?" the mountain prince asked.

Quatre hung his head. "Same old same old. Father refuses to listen to me, and the country's getting to be in dire straits. We are this close to an economical crash, the people are actually starting to believe the rumors that are circulating about our family, we have been getting protests and strikes for the last six months, and now WE have been hearing rumors of the people beginning to arm themselves!"

Duo whistled. "Man. That is harsh! And your dad still won't listen to reason?"

Quatre sighed. "Not in the slightest. It is so frustrating. If I can just get him to listen for two minutes, I am sure I could get my point across. He forgets that I will be eighteen in a few months. Only two years to my coming of age. Why can he not realize that!" The desert prince took a deep breath. "I am sorry. I should not be unloading all my problems on you. So how are things going with you?"

There was a pause as Duo looked at his cousin for a long, serious moment. Then he just smiled. "Things are goin' pretty good around here. We got a whole bunch of new servants over last winter, and some of them are just plain awesome. Oh! I gotta tell you. There's this one girl, Catherine. She came from this circus right? She's about the best damned knife thrower out there! It's so cool! She has the absolute best accuracy; I mean, she can hit a bull's-eye dead center from like twenty feet away. She rocks! Man, you gotta see her. Oi! Hee-kun!" Duo pointed to a dark corner of the room. A disgruntled bodyguard stepped forward. "I love doing that to him," he whispered to his cousin before turning back to the kimono-clad youth. "Could you find that Cathy girl and ask if she'll perform tonight at dinner? I want to introduce her to my cousin here."

"Hai."

The bodyguard disappeared once again into the shadows, an annoyed scowl upon his otherwise smooth face.

Quatre looked to Duo. "Are new servants the only new thing with you? That cannot be right, as your father King Maxwell loves getting into trouble!"

"Too true! Too true! Ol' father Maxwell is starting to take a very unhealthy in some foreign policy. Normally, I'll grant you, that's not a bad thing."

"Especially where your father is concerned."

"Yup! But the thing is the country he's starting to take interest in."

"Really? Which country?"

Duo took a deep breath. "Yours."

The desert prince came very close to performing a facefault. "My FATHER'S country? Why??"

The mountain prince shrugged. "You said it yourself, that oasis of yours is getting in to some very serious sh-"

"Duo!"

"Stuff. And father Maxwell just can't ignore family. He's already started to arrange to loan you some substantial funds, not to mention a small army of advisors to help him do stuff."

Quatre sighed. " It is not like he will listen to them. Or accept the money."

Duo smiled. "Well, I'm getting coroneted next week. I'll just send it as a gift to you. You can use it however you want."

The pale prince blinked. "Your coronation was moved up? When? How? Oh, I get it! That was why you sent me the letter, correct?"

This time it was the braided prince's turn to blink. "What letter? Father Maxwell informed your dad about it, true. But he didn't expect you to come with all the trouble you guys are having. Hey, Quat? What's wrong?"

The young prince had lowered his head, placing his small fists on his knees and tried with losing difficulty to stop shaking.

"It was all a rouse," he whispered.

"What?"

"My father made up the letter to get me out of the country for a few months. He lied to me on purpose! I cannot believe this!!! I am so ANGRY at him!"

The mountain prince sighed. "I'm sorry, Quat. I didn't know. Hey, do you want me to escort you to your room?"

The desert cousin took a deep breath, controlling his anger with practiced ease. "No, it is alright. I know the way by heart. And besides, I need some time to think."

Duo smiled, concern still written in his eyes. "Understood."

The desert prince wandered through the halls, his mind deep in thought as he silently fumed about what his father had done to him. A man of such honor, of such high ideals and morals, had lied to his own son. His own son! How could he do that? What was he thinking? Obviously not of Prince Quatre's feelings. But then again, he rarely did. This was just another step towards the distance that the desert prince could feel coming between him and his father. It had started long ago, when Quatre was barely thirteen. It had been the first time he had expressed his views of the political situation to his father. The king had not taken it well. And things just went spiraling downhill from there. It was to the point where nowadays, the prince hardly ever talked to his father, even though he wanted to do so desperately. But more and more the king refused to grant the audience. And Quatre was starting to feel lonely.

The princes thought were interrupted, however. As he turned a narrow corner he saw at the last possible second a blur of brown hair. The prince stopped, raising to his toes trying to avoid the collision. But that was not meant to be and there was a resounding crash. For the second time that day, the young blond found himself on his back wondering what had happened. Still slightly weary of the Heero incident, the prince sat up slowly, keeping himself very alert. On the ground next to him was not Heero, however. It was a different boy, this one wearing a servant's uniform. His back was to the prince as he quickly tried to gather up a menagerie of paper that had scattered several feet down the hall.

"I am sorry," Quatre said. "That was entirely my fault. Are you alright?"

The servant did not answer, merely continuing his task of collecting the fallen papers.

Quatre spoke up, knowing he sometimes had a tendency to be soft-spoken. "I said, 'are you alright'. I am sorry if I hurt you." There was still not response from the servant. He seemed to completely ignore the prince as he feverishly picked up the sheets of paper. Still upset about his father and confused as to this boy's rudeness, Quatre understandably became a little miffed. The blond reached out and touched the servants shoulder. "I asked you a question!" he said forcefully.

The boy turned at that and for the first time, the desert prince saw the servant's face. Prince Quatre looked into the sharpest, most startling pair of green eyes he had ever seen. They were large, framed by long curved lashes, with a dead, almost sad expression to them. His face curved at sharp angles, giving the servant a hard look. His messy, wood brown hair fell like a waterfall down his face, almost totally hiding half of it.

Quatre blinked, stunned by this boys odd beauty. "I-I apologize," he stuttered. "That was my fault."

The servant shook his head but let Quatre continue.

"Are you alright?"

The boy nodded, and stood, neatening his armload of papers and running a hand quickly through his thick bangs.

Quatre stood as well, dusting off the seat of his pants. He looked again to the servant. "Are you sure?"

The boy nodded again. Quatre found it strange that this young servant wouldn't answer him directly. "What is your name?" Perhaps that question would receive a more vocal reply. And at the very least Quatre could ask about him to Duo. He knew every servant in this castle by first name.

The boy, instead of answering, made a fist with his right hand, placing his thumb between his index and middle fingers. He raised the hand to his face and held it just under his chin. The foreign prince merely looked on, confused as to what the boy was getting at. But before the desert noble could further question the servant, he bowed and jogged down the hall, a confident air in his stride.

The prince watched him disappear into the dark halls before he himself left for his room.

Later that evening, Quatre rejoined his cousin Duo and various members of the mountain prince's family as they had dinner. A banquet may have been a more appropriate word, perhaps. There was roasted deer, pig, several turkey and chickens and other birds, huge bowls of water and milk based soups, vegetables that were cut, tossed, mashed and boiled. It was a veritable overkill to the mouths of the people dining. That didn't stop them from eating, though.

The conversation was loud and cheerful, the epitome of Prince Duo himself, who was the loudest and most cheerful of them all. Since their youth, Duo had always made a spectacle of himself during dinner. About halfway through the meal, though, he stood up onto the table and raised his hands. It took several minutes, but everybody gradually gave his or her attention to him.

"Wow!" he said. "That actually worked!" There was various laughter, but it died quickly as Duo spoke again. "The only reason I'm interrupting this absolutely delicious meal is that I want to personally introduce tonight's entertainment, since my best friend and cousin, Prince Quatre has not seen this death defying beauty. Her name is Catherine Bloom, ladies and gents! And let her dazzle you with her abilities!" There was a general cheering as Duo sat down and started to dig into his meal again. The candle light dimmed, and then brightened to reveal a tall woman of about twenty, bowing before the table which everyone sat.

"My lord gives an excellent introduction, sire," she said. "One would think that you were a ringmaster of the circus from whence I came." Catherine had a curly mass of brownish hair, sweeping over her head and neck; held back only by a few colored feathers in her hair. Her costume was formfitting and bright, a contrast to Duo's favorite color of black, and she appeared to have a thin figure of health and dexterity.

The performer stood, revealing a smooth face with gentle, violet eyes. She had a sharp chin and creamy skin. A color that seemed very familiar to Quatre for some reason. She smiled warmly and looked to her audience. "And who among you has the courage to be my victim? I mean, my apprentice?" She pulled out a handful of knives, all very long and all very deadly looking. She turned to the mountain prince. "I hope my lord does not mind, but I took the liberty of taking some of your cook's kitchen knives. These blades can cut through the flesh of the toughest boar, even break the creatures bones with its metallic strength. Who would be my assistant?"

Several coughs and mutters replied the entertainer, until once again Duo stood up onto the table. He turned his head around until he pointed to a rafter. "Oi! Hee-kun! Doko ni imasu ka? Koko ni kite kudasai!"

"Omae o korosu!" was the Prince's reply (from the rafters) and no bodyguard emerged.

"Fine! Be that way!" Duo looked to Catherine. He took a deep breath. "Alright milady! I volunteer to be your victim!" He hopped down from his perch and rolled, coming up right in front of the entertainer. "As you see, I also have some skill."

Catherine grinned. "But can you dodge my knives? Forgive me my lord, but I would not risk my future king." Duo blinked in surprise.

"But I-"

"My brother will gladly take your place, sire, and embrace all the dangers you are foolish enough not to fear."

Laughter erupted from the tables. Even the reserved desert prince could not help himself as his crestfallen cousin slumped back into his chair.

"You had that coming, Duo."

"Well, yeah. But still. I was all set and everything!"

Several shushes quieted the pair as Catherine's brother came from his place in the shadows. Quatre recognized him immediately.

"That boy!" he whispered. The candle light dimmed again, leaving Catherine and her brother in a circle of light.

Duo looked to his cousin. "What? You know him?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, I ran into him today, literally. Do you know his name?"

Duo looked to the boy, his face etched in concentration. "Give me a minute. It'll come to me." Quatre did so and in the meantime watched the performance. Catherine was indeed a skillful performer as well as a knife thrower. She played the audience like a harp, throwing the blades with apparent clumsiness, embedding them in the board several feet from her brother's form. She tossed her knives almost negligently, missing the servant my mere inches.

"Hey, Hilde," Duo's voice whispered. Quatre looked to his cousin. The mountain prince's advisor walked silently over to the pair.

"What's that boy's name?"

Hilde looked to the boy, thinking for a moment. "You know, I don't know. I can't think of anyone who's even had a conversation with him other than his sister Catherine. And she gets very defensive when someone talks about him."

Quatre blinked. Not even Hilde knows that boys name? It's a feat for Duo not to know, but it's an impossibility for Hilde! The desert prince looked again to the boy, fascination written on his pale face. Who is he? It was time for the final act. Catherine's brother had blindfolded her and stood perfectly still against the board that they used. His arms were open, parallel to the floor. His face was blank. No emotion registered on his hard face, not even fear. Quatre was intrigued.

The first throw of the knife was on target, landing centimeters away from the servant's shoulder. Next, Catherine pulled out eight knives, four per hand. Several members of the dinner table quickly excused themselves. The performer took her time, letting the silence deafen the audience as she prepared her strike. Then, quicker than anyone could see, the knives were gone from her hand. Everybody looked over to the brother. The knives were all there! The board was covered with the knives, following the contour of the servant's lean body. Slowly he pulled away from the board and bowed. There was an uproar from the audience, and Catherine ate it up, happy to be back in the role of entertainer.

Duo clapped particularly loud. "Bravo! Encore! Sugoi! That was totally awesome Cathy!"

The knife thrower bowed. "It was an honor, my future king."

Duo laughed. "I can't believe it! And your brother was totally amazing! He just stood there! Very cool." Duo paused, acting as if he were in thought. "Incidentally, Cathy, just what is your bro's name? I was trying to recall it during the performance, but I can't quite remember it. And I make it a point to be on a first name basis with everyone here."

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "My brothers name is Triton, sire. But I've always called him Trowa."

Quatre looked to the servant. "Trowa?"

The boy nodded in acknowledgement.

Duo, meanwhile, continued talking. "I was also wondering what job we'd assigned him. I like to know what servants are doing what. It helps when I need to ask for help."

"My brother serves my lord. Is that not enough, sire?"

Duo blinked. "Hey, chill. I was just asking." He looked to the servant. "Hey, Trowa, where do you work?"

The servant made a series of odd gestures with his hands.

Duo just blinked again. Even Quatre was blinking.

"My brother is a runner, sire."

Quatre looked to the servant, suddenly understanding something. "You can't speak, can you?" It was a statement, not a question.

Trowa nodded, and then pointed to his ears.

"My brother cannot speak, nor can he hear, my lords," Catherine said, acid laced in her voice. "What will you do about it? Cast him out? Ridicule him? Beat him? It is not his fault! He was sick as a child, and the price for his health was his silence; do not dare discredit him! He is as smart as any of you! He-"

Her emotional speech was interrupted as Trowa placed a hand on her shoulder. He shook his head and made more of those odd gestures.

"But Trowa…"

Again, he shook his head. Catherine lowered her head and was silent. Trowa turned to the desert prince and maid more movements with his hands. They were fluid and confident, brought about with practiced ease. The pale prince looked at the boy in confusion. He sensed that Trowa was trying to say something important, yet he could not understand the speech he was using. He looked to Catherine.

"May I ask what he's saying, Miss Catherine?"

"He was apologizing for my tirade, saying that I have always been very protective of him because of what others have called him. He says he is honored to have people of high stature so interested in him, and that he will do his best to please. To prince Duo he says he works as a runner. He carries papers back and forth throughout the castle."

Duo smiled. "Hey! That's great! Hey, Trowa my man, anytime you see some papers that look suspicious, could you bring'em on over to me? There's been some fraud going on for the last few months; and I wanna get to the bottom of it."

The brother shook his head and made more signs.

Catherine translated. "He says that he would do so gladly, were it not for the fact that he cannot read."

The two princes blinked. The mountain prince spoke up. "Why on earth not? Both father Maxwell and myself made it a point to have everyone in the castle at the very least literate. If not educated."

Quatre turned to his cousin. "But how can one teach a person who is deaf and dumb?"

"My brother is NOT dumb!!" Cathy shouted, gathering the attention of the other dinner guests. "My brother is smarter than any of you! If you would just listen to him you would hear what he has to say! How dare you call Trowa dumb!"

The desert prince flushed in embarrassment. "I apologize, Miss Catherine. In my country, people who cannot speak are called dumb. It has nothing to do with his intelligence. I sense that he is indeed as knowledgeable as you say; else he would not be able to understand our speech. I did not mean to insult him." He turned to the silent boy. "I am sorry, Trowa."

The boy nodded. He then pointed to the curious onlookers. Quatre understood what he was getting at without any further deliberation. He looked to Duo. "It seems we've drawn a crowd," he whispered.

Duo nodded. "I saw it earlier. Don't mind them. They know I tend to shoot my mouth off and annoy people. They'll think nothing of it. Besides, dinner is almost over."

This short story isn't so short is it?