Category: Angst, Adventure, AU, Slave/Master

Pairings: 1x2, 4x3 (eventually), 5x?

Rating: R (?)

Disclaimer: Standard. You know them all by now so I won't bore you with a repeat.

Warnings: This story does show how a lot of people felt about the owning of slaves, a feeling that was very alive in this country not that long ago, as well as in many civilizations down through the ages. There are some good owners and some bad owners, like in everything. If someone owning another person bothers you, you might not like this fic. But then I'm not forcing anyone to read it. There are also M/M relationships in this fic (I'm very much a 1x2/3x4 fan.) so if boys being together (and I do mean together) bothers you don't read.

Golden Lights Part One

By SilverLady

The market place was full of sights, sounds and smells. Brightly colored stalls full of the strange and not so strange. Shouting men hawking their wares, each trying to catch the attention of passers-by.  The odors of cooking foods mingled with the smell of animals, giving the air a unique scent that was pleasant and yet not.

Crowds of people pushed through the narrow street, each one intent on their own destination. There were a few who strolled, glancing at the items for sale in the different stands. These people were usually more richly dressed than most, obviously the upper class of the city who had time to look at things.

Trowa leaned heavily on his friend, Heero, as they walked through the market. They were both members of the upper class and had plenty of time to just look, usually. Today, though, they had a certain destination in mind and so paid little attention to the shouting traders.

Heero cut a swath through the crowd, making sure there was enough room for Trowa and glaring at those who didn't move fast enough to suit him. Those who were unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of one of his glares moved on quickly, though. Heero wasn't someone to trifle with and most knew it. Those who didn't usually learned fast enough.

"Are you sure we'll be there in time?" Trowa asked.

"Of course," Heero replied. He'd been surprised when Trowa had asked him to accompany him to the market. He'd been even more surprised when he'd found out why.

Heero and Trowa had known each other for years and Heero counted the quiet man among his few friends. He had been one of the few that had supported Trowa after his accident and had been the one to persuade Trowa that it wasn't the end of the world. Out of that had come a friendship that had only strengthened with time.

"Why didn't you bring Duo with you?" Trowa asked. Duo was Heero's personal manservant and he rarely went anywhere without the youth. Trowa often suspected there was more there than either let on, but he'd never asked. What the two did was their own business. Besides, he didn't want to find out he was wrong. Heero deserved some happiness, there had been precious little of it in his life.

"I didn't think he would like where we are going."

"Oh, I suppose not." Suddenly Trowa winced as a sharp pain lanced up his left leg.

Heero saw the wince. "Are you okay?" he demanded, stopping to look at Trowa.

"I'm fine. It's just a twinge. I'm used to it."

Deep blue eyes studied him for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now let's get going before all the good ones are taken."


Ten minutes later Heero shoved his way through another crowd of people to a couple of seats near the front. This crowd was different than the ones in the street outside. They were all well dressed, rich merchants and landowners looking for new labor to work in their factories and fields.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" Heero asked as he took his seat next to Trowa. "You could have asked for a private showing. Andril would have been happy to oblige."

"Then I would have to have wait nearly two weeks. I already asked. He said he's very busy this time of year.  The latest prisoners from the wars in the south just came in and the landowners are getting ready to put in their crops and need all the cheap labor they can find."

Heero looked at Trowa a minute before nodding. He still couldn't believe Trowa had decided to buy a slave.


For the next two hours they sat and watched as various slaves were brought out to be sold. Though Trowa looked more closely at several, he had yet to bid on a single one.

"And now, fine sirs," the auctioneer said. "I bring you a special surprise. From the far off sands of Arbiria a fine specimen of young manhood."

Trowa sighed, but became much more interested when the next slave was brought out. He'd never seen anyone who looked quite like this youth. Apparently several others felt the same way, as they leaned forward to get a better look.

The youth was small and somewhat delicate looking, with golden hair that shone in the sunlight. His blue-green eyes were wide and frightened as he looked back at the crowd staring at him. It was obvious this was no slave meant for the fields. This was one to be paraded before men with exotic tastes.

Trowa studied him a moment longer. "I want him, " he quietly informed Heero.

"Are you sure? The bidding will go quite high."

"I don't care. He's the one I want."

Heero nodded. If this were Trowa's choice, then come hell or high water, this would be the slave that he would purchase.

"I'll open the bidding at one thousand gold," the auctioneer called out. "Do I have one thousand gold?"

"One thousand," a voice called out.

"Two," another voice shouted.

As Heero had predicted the bidding did go quite high on the little blond, but in the end he was triumphant.

"That's a lot of money to pay for a single slave," he commented as they made their way to the office to pay for Trowa's newly acquired possession.

Trowa shrugged. "It's not like I can't afford it." Trowa's father had died in the same accident that had left him practically crippled and had left everything to Trowa. "I have more money than I could possibly spend in my lifetime."

Heero glared. "That's not the point and you know it. Why a slave at all and why this one in particular?"

Trowa shrugged again. "I didn't like the idea of those men drooling over him. You know what they wanted him for."

"A Vamir," Heero replied bluntly. The Vamir were the slaves that served in the whorehouses on the east side of town that catered to those with exotic and expensive tastes. Supposedly they had been named after a king in the southlands who'd had unusual sexual tastes and had accumulated a varied collection of slaves to meet those tastes.

Trowa nodded but said nothing.


The young boy looked up fearfully as the door opened. He'd learned quickly that bad things often happened when the door opened, especially since food was usually just shoved through a small hole in the door.

He blinked back tears as bright light flooded into the room. Not all the tears were from the light in his eyes, though. "Get out here, boy," a surly voice called. "Your new master is here."

He rose to his feet and shuffled his way to the door, moving as fast as he dared with his hands and feet both shackled.

"Why is he shackled?" an unknown voice demanded. It was deep and hard. The owner was obviously used to getting his own way in things.

"It's the practice…." The slave master began.

"Remove them at once."

"Yes, sire."

Within a moment the shackles had been removed and the boy sighed in relief. It had been a long time since he'd been free of those hateful chains, except for the time he'd been paraded before all of those horrible men.

"What is your name?" a third voice asked softly.

The boy looked up to find two young men watching him. One leaned heavily on the other, his face half cloaked by a long shock of rich brown hair. The eye that he could see was deep green, like the forests high in the mountains in his homeland.  The other stood tall and strong, his deep blue eyes cold and assessing as they looked him over. Thick, almost black, hair tumbled carelessly into his eyes.

"You were asked a question," the slave master said angrily. "Answer him quick."


He flinched when he saw the hand raised toward him. He was surprised when the dark haired boy's hand snapped forward and grabbed the man's wrist. "He is no longer yours," he spoke, his voice seemingly even colder than before. "You will no longer raise your hand to him. Understand."

"But, sire, he must be taught how to behave."

"That is no longer your concern," the other boy said softly, his voice quiet but just as firm as his companion's. He looked at Quatre, studying him for a moment. "Quatre, I am Trowa and this is my friend, Heero. I am your new owner and you are to do what I say. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Quatre looked downward as he spoke. Was this how Abdul and the others had felt around him? As if his life was no longer his own.

"Excellent. Follow me." With that Trowa turned and headed out.

Quatre noticed how badly Trowa limped, using Heero as a sort of support. What had happened to hurt him so badly? he wondered to himself. And what kind of a master would he be? Oh, Great One, I want to go home. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes as he thought of home and the people there. He missed them all, even Carlia, who was a pain and often tried to get him to marry her. Now marriage to Carlia didn't seem so bad.