DISCLAIMER: All Gundam Wing characters are property of Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Setsu Agency, and Asahi TV. This work is not written for profit, but for entertainment purposes only.
WARNING: Contains mild shonen-ai themes.
Author's Notes: Fin de Siecle describes a hypothetical first meeting between a 10-year-old Treize Khushrenada and a 6-year-old Milliard Peacecraft. It's written in Treize's voice, as an adult remembering this time . The meeting takes place at Milliard's home, the Palace of Sank, in the Sank Kingdom (somewhere in Northern Europe.) Milliard has just turned six, Treize will soon be 11, and the invasion of Sank by the Specials unit of the Earth Sphere Alliance is looming in the near future. As the title implies, however, this is the last of the peaceful days within the Kingdom.
I have made Treize Ukrainian in ethnicity, residing with his parents (a Count and Countess) in Kiev before he goes into the military. I reserve the right to alter this if my research on him uncovers evidence that this would *not* be where he came from!
It was warm, that's what I remember noticing first. Kiev had been through an uncommonly icy winter and spring had been very slow in coming. Strange that there in that Northern Kingdom there was sunshine and blossoms on the trees and the softest, greenest grass to run on.
But I wasn't doing much running at first. I was being Civilized. That was my job, you see. I was Lord Treize then, the son of Count and Countess Khushrenada of Kiev, and Civilized Behavior, with the capitals definitely included, was a specialty of my family. Perhaps I gave my mother no end of fits as a tiny child, but ever since I could remember I had always been a calm and gracious boy. This was especially true whenever we were away from home.
As it was, home was many hundreds of miles to the southeast and I was glad to leave the plane, finally, and make the short walk to the car that was waiting for us. I don't remember being thrilled at visiting yet another country on my father's endless list of contacts to keep, but at least I was near having my freedom of movement back again.
We drove through a small and quaint capital city, almost more of a town, actually, compared to Kiev, and then up into the hills above the harbor. As we approached the palace of Sank, I asked my mother about its occupants.
"What are the Peacecrafts like, Mother?" I inquired, staring out of the window at the wide parks surrounding the royal house.
"Oh, they are very kind," my mother answered. "They are peace-loving people who are very good at inspiring others in their way of doing things."
There was something in her voice that I didn't quite understand, and I knew that if I were older I would and that it might change my opinion of the royalty I was about to meet. But I was very young, only 10, and I decided it was best left alone.
"They have children, don't they Mother?"
"Yes, darling - a boy of six and a little girl just turned three." She looked down at me then and ran her hand through my hair. "I hope you won't find yourself too bored during our stay, Treize? Hmm?"
I smiled back at her. How could I tell her that I was *never* bored? That I *always* found something to occupy my mind, even if it was only making up stories in my head about commanding an army, or ruling an empire. I was never the sort of boy who wastes his time staring into space with nothing to do or think. I made a point of finding things to think about, even during the most tedious school lessons, or the longest masses.
Too bad the children of King Peacecraft weren't my age, though. I told myself that I would just have to find something more interesting to occupy my mind.
We had been greeted quite warmly by the King and Queen themselves, and were now in a large drawing room, having tea. The maid had gone to fetch the nanny, who would bring down the children to be introduced. I pitied them. When I was very young I hated being introduced to all the people my father brought home. Only just then was I beginning to appreciate the importance of these social calls, and how much one can learn of another person in a pleasant conversation of five minutes time. I knew, though, that the prince and princess were much too young to appreciate this.
Prince. Princess. I rolled the titles around on my tongue a bit. I had met only a couple of princes in my short life, and had liked neither of them. In my experience, true royalty, as compared to the nobility to which my parents and therefore I belonged, were usually horrible bores with nothing intelligent to say. It's safe to say then, that I did not have high hopes for an interesting afternoon. But oh, how that changed when he came in the room.
I can see it now, very clearly, as if I had a photograph of the event. Every detail is recorded, every nuance of behavior captured for the moment I first saw Milliard Peacecraft, the Prince of Sank. I was sitting on a large, uncomfortable sofa next to my mother and the Queen had just poured me a cup of weak tea, when the nanny came in, deposited her charges, curtsied, and left. There they were, the royal children, a noisy toddler and a quiet, serious-looking boy. The hammer had been raised, but had not yet come down on my head. That was yet to come.
The Princess was introduced first, no doubt so that she could break formation and go careening into her mother's lap, begging for cakes from the tray on the table. Her name was Relena and she wore a very pretty little white dress. I found her, however, to be a somewhat ugly child. She later grew into her looks, but back then I had no desire for any further contact with her. So I turned my attention towards the Prince, who was being introduced by his father.
"This is my son Milliard," Peacecraft said proudly, and the boy stepped forward to greet my parents. He bowed and shook my father's hand, then took my mother's and bent over it with great formality. I remember her telling me later how amused she was by the sight of "such a small boy with such large manners." Then, it was my turn with him.
As his father said my name, he met my gaze and I got a good look at him for the first time. He was blond, not a golden or reddish blond, but that type that seems to have been carved out of Nordic ice - the hair so light it was almost platinum-colored. But his eyes were what caught me, even then at the tender age of six years, his eyes actually took my breath away. They were the clearest, iciest color of blue I had ever seen. Their color made him seem like some sort of fairy Prince, the kind that were always hovering around doing noble things in the stories my old nurse used to tell me at home.
He dropped his gaze humbly and bowed, then straightened and waited for me to do the same. His small face was so formal and solemn that it made me smile at him. I bowed, very deeply, and as I came up gave him a quick wink that I knew no one else could see. That did it. For a brief moment all the training and grace and Civilized Behavior that the Peacecrafts had packed into his six short years fell away and he looked at me, adorably bewildered. It was a very good thing that his mother offered him a cup of tea, then. Otherwise I'm sure he would never have known what to do with himself.
That evening, after dinner, as my mother was saying good night, she mentioned that Prince Milliard had been learning to fence, and that I might ask him for a little match. She seemed to think it would amuse me and I secretly agreed. So I planned to collar him after breakfast the next morning and give him a challenge worthy of a Count of Kiev. I imagined the match as I fell asleep, and dreamt of white-gold hair, running through my fingers.
The next day, I woke to find that the feeling of interest I had had in the prince Milliard had not lessened, but had grown. I remember feeling very confused about it. After all, why should a ten-year-old boy like myself desire at all the companionship of someone so much younger? I gave up trying to sort it out, but it nagged at me through breakfast, which I was compelled to spend opposite him and his sister at a small dining table in the morning room.
Having finished his meat, bread, and cheese, he excused himself and rose to leave. The princess had already been taken off by the nanny and he and I were alone in the light-filled morning room. As he went past, I grabbed his arm and easily pulled him around to face me. How indignant he looked! And how perfectly in keeping with the little game of pretend I had in store for him.
I pulled him in very close to me and said, in my best nobleman's voice, "I'll not let you leave! I, Lord Khushrenada of Kiev challenge you, Milliard, Prince of Sank, to a duel!"
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out, so I asked, cooly, "Do you accept my challenge, Your Highness?"
I let go of his arm, a little reluctantly, and he regained his solemn appearance. "Fighting isn't the way to take care of things," he said softly, looking up at me as if judging my reaction to his words.
I remember making a face at him then and saying, "It's not a war, Your Highness, I just thought you might like to do some fencing!"
"Oh," he said in a rather disbelieving voice. "You? Want to fence with *me?*"
"Of course," I said feeling very important and grown up next to him. "I have the honor of the Khushrenadas to defend. Now where is your fencing salon?"
His face was still wary but he led me up the main stairs to the back of the palace, where the fencing salon was. And what a salon! It was long and somewhat narrow, with tall windows lining the back wall, letting in sunlight that gleamed on the spotless hardwood floor. Along the front wall were a line of rapiers and epees and beside that several fencing kits of various sizes.
We got dressed then, and each chose a blade and helmet. When we were in position, I gave him a swift and (I thought at the time) very dashing salute, bringing my sword up quickly in front of my face. He hesitated for a only a moment, then gave the salute back to me. He was surprisingly graceful for a young boy, and I knew it would be a good, if brief, match.
I began as I always do, on defense, letting my opponent take the early risks. I was happy to see that even though he was very young, the little prince was not shy about taking an aggressive lead. If a six-year-old could have a fencing style, his was a hard-driving one that not only pressured me to parry more than I'd have liked, but that was calculated to be intimidating by it's sheer force and forward movement. That is, it would have been intimidating, if the opponent had not been several inches shorter than I was.
"You're good for such a small boy," I told him, feeling gracious. "How long have you been practicing?"
He didn't answer at once, but began another forward series that drove me across the room. The front wall, being covered with mirrors, was a wonderful frame for our movements, and I spent a lot of time looking at the two of us, how we moved together, how we complimented each other's styles of fighting. I had begun to appreciate the subtleties of using defensive moves to attack, while Milliard was mastering the attack itself with a fierce and somewhat reckless intensity. We looked very good together.
"A year," he panted, finally answered me, all the while continuing to press. "My... father says... it's not good form... to talk... while you fence." I smiled at him. What a odd little boy!
He had just finished another attack series when I saw my opportunity. My fencing master had spent the last several weeks demonstrating the weaknesses of the aggressive stance, one of these being overreaching with both the legs and the foil. My little friend, no doubt compensating for the differences in our heights, did just that, and I was able to get him off balance and drive him towards his end of the salon. I felt an enormous sense of joy watching his face as he fought hard to regain the advantage. He was a little angel with the fierceness of a tiger, and that made me feel strangely close to him somehow.
In the end, I was too strong for him and I finally got him where I'd wanted him, up against the salon wall with my foil at his throat. I smiled at him then, no doubt with all the arrogance and false confidence that only a ten-year-old boy can have. I whispered to him, "You're very good for your age. Will you become a soldier, I wonder?"
He looked back at me, still panting, his eyes glowing with an emotion that I, in my child's ignorance, couldn't begin to fathom. His voice, when he spoke, was low, and quite un-childlike. "My father says that only people who aren't sure of what they believe have to fight. Only people who are really afraid ever become soldiers. And only people who have run out of ideas start wars."
I felt confused by that, by his words. Confused and even angry. I moved the foil away from him and leaned in closer. "But you're obviously good at this kind of thing! Why not do what you're good at and fight? *My* father says that it's people like you and me who should be in charge of things. And we prove that we're good enough to be in charge by fighting and honoring ourselves in battles."
He didn't make any move to get away from me, but his face was very solemn as he said softly, "Well I think you're father is wrong."
We stared at each other for a long, long moment and thenhe straightened up, pushing me back along the floor towards my side of the room. "Your match," he said in his little-boy voice again, and he swept his blade up into a final salute, bowing very deeply to me after he did so.
He turned his back on me, calling over his shoulder, "I have to see if my sister needs me," and walked out of the salon. My eyes were on him all the way out.
I spent that night in dreams, the prince constantly by my side as we explored the world together. I chose the battles, and he fought them with me, side by side. In the morning, the last dream proved to be the best. In that one, just before I woke up, I saw him smile at me.
I spent the next several days in his company whenever I could. There was something between he and I that was so strong I could almost taste it. At least, it was on my part. He showed no particular pleasure in my company, nor did he have any complaints when he found me by his side again. He simply accepted me, and for me, that was enough.
We wandered the grounds of his father's palace, and he showed me all the secret places that young boys find for themselves and hide from those they think won't understand. And I really came to believe that, in his own strange and solemn way, Milliard was opening up to me, just as I was to him, by asking for his company. He didn't say it with words. Instead, he let me in to the parts of his young life that he treasured most, and I went gladly, knowing even then what a compliment it was.
On our last day there, we went off in search of treasure, a game that took all morning and into the early afternoon. He was the bold sea captain and I the crafty pirate that took his ship. I used all of my pirate's wiles to convince the dashing seaman to join forces with me, and in the end, he capitulated. We formed the fiercest and richest pirate pair that our make-believe coast ever saw. It was hard play, though, and by the time we had reached the final spot on our treasure map my apprentice-in-crime had worn himself out.
We rested before the long walk back to the palace. I leaned back against a large beech tree, and he, without a word, lay down on the soft grass with his head in my lap. As I looked down at him, and stroked the thick, white-gold hair a feeling rushed over me that made my heart heavy and brought a sting of tears to my eyes. I'm grown now, and I can easily say what it was I must have been feeling for the small prince I guarded. But then, I knew very little of emotions, especially those sparked by others. So I simply watched him sleep, feeling ridiculously happy and deeply confused as to why.
I said the last goodbyes I would ever say to King Peacecraft and his Queen later than afternoon. Although none of us had any way of knowing it, the rumors of Alliance displeasure with the Peacecraft were true, and the end of the lovely Sank Kingdom was just weeks away.
My last farewell I saved for the prince. Although I couldn't understand why, a part of me was breaking inside, at the thought of leaving him. I remember feeling embarrassed by my longing, and trying to explain it by every means I could, other than what I now know it was. I had been captured, completely and utterly, by Milliard Peacecraft, and I had no desire to be set free. I wanted to be told that he felt the same thing. I wanted to hear it from him. But I couldn't find the words. I was just too young.
I leaned down and put one hand on his shoulder. Looking him right in the eye, I did the best I could, "I want to be your friend, Your Highness. Your special friend. Will you let me?"
He looked up at me, then put his hand on top of mine. "My name is Milliard. May I come and visit *you* someday?"
I couldn't hide my smile. "Make it soon, all right?" He nodded.
I looked out of the back of the car as we drove away from the palace of Sank. Although my mother told me I was being undignified, I stayed there until we turned the corner - taking in the sight of the King and Queen chasing after the toddler princess, while Milliard stood, very straight and very still, watching until we were out of sight.
owari
* End of an era
(:./kumiko/bblood1)
