22 Dec 1999

Hello mina -

I hope everyone is enjoying the holidays. I have here the first part of the first fic in a three-fic collection. The collection is called "Triptych" and will consist of three fics that outline the development of Zechs and Treize's relationship from friends to "boyfriends" to lovers. The first fic "Primus" has them meeting for the first time since they were introduced in Sank. Sixteen-year-old Specials officer Treize has invited 11-year-old Milliard to come to Kiev for Christmas with the large Khushrenada extended family.

This is both a "how come" fic (my version of how it happened that Zechs chose to go into the Specials and, therefore, OZ to seek revenge for his father's death) and an atmosphere fic (for Christmas at an aristocrat's estate.)

Hope you like it - C&C is always welcome.

kumiko

DISCLAIMER: All Gundam Wing characters are property of Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Sotsu Agency, and Asahi TV. This work is not written for profit, but for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Notes: Primus is set during the Christmas season of A.C. 186. It has been five years since the fall of the Sank Kingdom. 16-year-old Treize Khushrenada has been with the Specials for three years and has invited 11-year-old Milliard Peacecraft to his family's estate just outside Kiev for Christmas. Milliard has been moved from family to family since the attack on his father's kingdom and is now going under the assumed name of Zechs Merquise. The story is told from the point of view of Treize.

Note also that I have taken the liberty of assuming that the Western and Eastern Christian Churches finally worked out an agreement on the date of Christmas. Hopefully this will not offend anyone - but it *is* several hundred years in the future - it *could* happen! ^_^

Key for punctuation:
"..." - character dialogue
/.../ - character thoughts

Primus (or The Khushrenada's Christmas) by kumiko

22 December

I had begged and pleaded and cajoled for it. I had promised all sorts of impossible things - like escorting my elderly aunts to the opera, twice, and coming home by curfew time without fail. I had even put in a good deal of time already, helping entertain the other relatives who were inevitably her for another inevitable Christmas at home. Not that I don't love my parents, mind you, but the sheer number of relatives present gave me quite a headache and I knew if I could have this one wish then I would gain the perfect tonic for too many aunts and uncles.

And now it was all to pay off - Milliard Peacecraft was going to be my guest for Christmas.

"When is your friend arriving?" my mother asked as she stared into her dressing table mirror. She and my father were going to the ballet this evening, and, as always, she was making herself impeccable for him. I was sprawled in an armchair next to her fire, swirling pre-dinner sherry around a tiny glass and enjoying watching her put on her finery.

"Tomorrow," I replied. "His plane gets in at 9am. Thank you again, mother, for allowing me a guest." I took a sip of the sherry and it went down sweet and warm.

She looked at me in her mirror, her twinkling eyes fitting perfectly with a knowing smile. "I understand something of what it means to be a 16-year-old, already out in the world, a Specials officer of all things, having to be at one's parents' for Christmas." She winked at my reflection. "I was just a little surprised at your choice of companion."

I smiled softly at her. My mother, I was convinced, was secretly a witch, or else had gypsy blood in her. She never failed to see through to my heart. And this time was no exception.

"Of course, I hear he is growing into quite a beautiful young gentleman; I suppose that's reason enough...?"

Swallowing the rest of my sherry, and feeling suddenly warm and expansive, I sat up in the chair and looked intently at my mother's face in her mirror. "I've only spoken with him over the vid link, but I do believe, mother, that he is quite the loveliest young gentleman of my acquaintance."

I poured myself more sherry and continued. "It must have been horrid for him, these past years, being sent from one house to another, living under an assumed name, just to keep the Federation away from him. I want him to know what it's like to be in a real family for the holidays. Someplace -" and here I broke off for a moment and stared the glass in my hands. So beautiful, and so fragile. "Someplace," I continued softly, "where he knows he's loved."

My mother turned in her dressing table chair, one slender, white arm across the dark red velvet of it's back, and looked at me. She hesitated and then spoke, firmly. "Treize - he *is* only 11-years-old. Your feelings for him may not be what he's expecting... or what he can handle. That is, if I'm right about the depth of those feelings?"

I looked up at her, finally ready in a deep blue velvet gown, sapphires glowing at her ears and throat, and wondered how she had ever done it. How had she discovered what my true feelings for the young prince were? All she had had for several years now had been my letters and an occasional visit for a week or so. Not much to go on, and yet, she needed so little to see the truth about me. "Yes mother," I whispered. "You're right. As usual..."

We smiled at each other and then she said, "Be very careful Treize. You're young of course, and I would hate to see you hurt, but he is much younger -and he's been living in hell these past five years. Find out who he has become, give yourself - and him - time to come to an understanding before you do anything too - forward."

Her words were wise, but I really didn't want to hear them. I didn't want to think that the beautiful boy I had met years earlier had been in pain for so long. I didn't want to think that it could have changed him from the exquisitely noble little creature he had been. I wanted the prince I had left, standing in the drive in front of his family's palace, looking after me with a solemn face until our car had disappeared from his sight. But I needed to appease my mother.

"Don't worry, " I said, trying to sound casual, "I won't be stealing into his room in the middle of the night to have my way with him."

She smiled at me then, and stood up to leave. "Why Treize, I wasn't thinking it would be anything as inconsequential as that."

And with that, she took my arm and looked at me out of the corner of eye, saying, "Be a good son and walk your poor old mother down to her *own* prince."

Dinner seemed to last forever. In attendance were no less than 15 of my dearest relatives, only two of them under the age of 50. Those were my second cousin, Charlotte, a kind-hearted but awkward girl of 20, and my least favorite uncle's son, Nikolai, a smug and boorish lout, just one year older than myself. He and I had only been in each other's company perhaps 4 or 5 times in all of our young lives, but I remembered each time because of our inexplicable but strong mutual dislike of the other.

Halfway through dinner, his father, my uncle Max - only a bit more tolerable than his son - decided to bring up the issue of my guest. He glared at me over his medallions of veal and said with a half-full mouth, "So! Young Treize - I hear you've invited an outsider to spend the holiday with us. Is this true?"

Trying hard to fight off an involuntary expression of disgust at his appalling manners, I smiled at him. "Yes, dear uncle, a long-lost friend of mine from several years ago. A very fine boy, sir."

"Oh yes?" he retorted, restocking his mouth with glazed carrots, "What's his name? Who are his people? Shouldn't he be spending Christmas with them?" Taking a gulp of wine, he swirled the carrots down and dug into his potatoes Lyonnaise.

"Well, sir, that would be somewhat difficult, given that all his people are dead."

Hearing this, he practically choked on his garlicky mouthful and began a most unpleasant coughing fit. His son protested my lexical attack on his father's digestive system. "See here, Treize - you shouldn't speak about unpleasantries like that at table - likely to give someone heart failure or make them choke!" He glowered at me from under heavy eyebrows.

I was immediately all concern, of course. "So sorry, dear uncle! I didn't mean to startle you. Please forgive my directness, it's just that - well, being made an orphan *is* a fact of at least *some* people's lives, and you *did* ask about why he wasn't spending the holiday at home. I felt obliged to answer you truthfully. Dear uncle."

Nikolai's glower increased in intensity. "Orphans are not what I would call a topic for polite company. Furthermore, *Treize*, I think your inviting one off the streets to stay *here* is rather unseemly - smacks of the common, I'd say."

Oh, how I wanted to grab him by his overstuffed collar and tell him that the "orphan off the streets" was a prince, more highly born than he, and more dignified at six years of age than he could ever hope to be at fifty. But obviously I couldn't. Milliard's latest caretakers had impressed upon my parents (who were among the very few who knew of Milliard's identity and whereabouts) that his true name and origins were to be kept completely confidential. So, I answered him as best I could. "He's not from the streets, my dear Nikolai, he's from a very good family. His parents were killed and now he lives with friends of theirs. Don't worry," I added with just enough sarcasm that he alone would hear it, " I'm sure he won't embarrass himself or this company by slurping his soup or eating with the wrong fork."

I held his gaze steady, but he came back for more. "Is he pretty? Is he a *special* friend of yours, Treize?" An ugly smile had spread across his features. "Will the lovely young ladies who come for the Christmas dance be disappointed that you only have eyes for a boy?"

"My dear Nikolai," fawned his unpleasant mother from several seats down the table, "whatever do you mean? Of course Treize will stand up with ladies at the dance, as will you, my dear - so many of them wanting to dance with you." She cast a simpering smile at him and whatever was left of my appetite fled me. "Besides," she laughed in a false voice, "what would Treize want with a boy? Why he's nearing the time when he could take a bride if he wanted."

Nikolai turned from his mother to me, leaning his arms on the table and asking in an innocent voice, "Treize? Take a wife? Our young lady friends could die of asphyxiation if they held their breaths for that..." He had rested his cheek on one hand and was giving me a self-satisfied look across the table, and as impolite as it was, I couldn't bear any more. So I stood, rather more abruptly than I would have wished, and said to those nearest my seat, "It's been a very pleasant dinner and you have all been excellent companions. Good night to you." Having said my piece, I bowed, and walked slowly out of the room.

I spent the remainder of the evening in my own company. My parents had arranged a local soprano, who had gained no little acclaim, to come and entertain the relatives, so it was easy for me to slip off to my rooms and enjoy the privacy and comfort they afforded.

I smiled on entering. My mother, as she had done each year that I could remember, had arranged for a bowl of Christmas roses to be put on the small table in the entryway of my suite. Their heady fragrance filled the room, and as I breathed it in I could feel every taut muscle relax. A bath -that's what I really needed. I lifted the bowl of roses from the table and carried them in to where my bathtub stood - a great, fearful boat of an antique, with claws for legs and a length to suit my own.

Turning on the water, I then went to the small silver chest that stood on one of the counters. My mother always filled it well when she knew I was to be home, and she had outdone herself this time. In the small chest were several exquisitely-scented soaps, two vials of rose-colored oil, and a small muslin bag, tied with red ribbon. Within the bag was the treasure I now sought - several handfuls of velvety rose petals, grown for their long-lasting fragrance, and the deepest red I had ever seen.

I took a handful out and tossed them onto the steaming water before undressing and lowering myself in. Every care in the world seemed to fade at that moment, and I knew that no matter how unpleasant my boorish cousin got, I would be able to handle it, knowing this awaited me at the end of the day.

His unkind words, though, were still stinging my ears. First there was that bit about my bringing Milliard here at all - "I think your inviting one off the streets to stay *here* is rather unseemly." And this in my own house! Or rather my *father's* house. Who did he think he was to comment on the seemliness of my choice of guests in the first place, not to mention the not-so-subtle insult he had just a paid a boy he'd never met. The nerve of him!

And then there were his other words... "Is he pretty? Is he a *special* friend of yours, Treize?" I brooded for awhile on that one, letting the steam float up to my face. Then I dropped my head back against the cool tile and answered the bugger. "Yes, dear cousin, he is ever so pretty... blue eyes to get lost in and hair that's silver-gold... and a beautiful, noble face that betrays his royal heritage. Oh yes, Nikolai - he is very pretty, indeed. And, what's that you say coz? Is he a special friend? To me he is, but I to him - I can't say. That remains to be seen."

I closed my eyes and thought of him as I'd last seen him - on the vid screen in the small barracks I occupied at the Pacific 1 base. He had been shy and blushing, unable to meet my eye for longer than a few seconds before ducking his head and letting long, white-gold bangs cover his face. When I had asked him to come for Christmas, he had raised his head and stared at me out of those ice-blue eyes. He couldn't believe I was serious - that I would really want him here.

Perhaps my mother was right, then. Perhaps my young friend had been changed by the hell he'd been through these past five years. Budding self-confidence taken over by - what was it I wondered? Grief? Anger? At this point I had no idea, but as I reached out into the steaming water and crushed the fragrant petals, one by one, I swore to myself that I would find out.

23 December

I was awakened the next morning by a dream. A dream so vivid that I thought it reality and was very surprised to see the real world around me and how different it was from the place I'd just been. It had been a forest, and I was hunting something, or someone. A strange gray mist lay thick on everything and obscured most of the forest from view, but up ahead I thought I saw a flash of something and instantly gave chase. It seemed to be an animal of some kind - tawny, lean, and fast on its feet. I got within range and, as I was loading my bow, saw it had antlers that made a ring around its head.

The arrow was true and it struck the animal just as it was crossing in front of an oak. There was a terrible scream and, as I watched, the animal's form changed, until it was the size of a boy - a boy with an arrow through his chest, impaled against the mossy trunk of the great tree.

Horrified - and fascinated - I walked slowly up the the base of the tree. The boy was still alive, but not struggling much. His head had fallen back and his eyes were closed. It was Milliard Peacecraft. I put a hand down and stroked his long, silky blond hair. "I'm so sorry," I whispered to him. "I had no idea I could do this to you..."

He opened his eyes then, ice-blue and deep, and moaned, "Why, Treize? Why...?"

Cradling his head in one hand, I leaned over and kissed him - deeply.

Wakening with a start, I fell back into the pillows and tried to calm my breathing. The sight of him, impaled on my arrow, hung in front of my eyes, refusing to fade. Even more disturbing was the fact that it had seemed somehow strangely exciting, arousing even, to see him there and know that I had done that to him. But, disturbing or not, the fact was becoming more and more obvious - there was an ache between my legs and a shivering in my chest that I could no longer ignore.

Safe in the knowledge that my door was locked, I moved my hand up to my nightshirt and slowly unbuttoned the front of it. About halfway down, I let my fingers brush across my chest and seek out a warm nipple. I squeezed and rubbed until both of them were hard with desire and my breathing was coming faster. Closing my eyes, and picturing my sweet friend, I let my hands slide down to my thighs, running them along the insides, teasing myself by not quite coming up far enough... But soon enough the need was too demanding, the desire too much to take. I reached over the the bedside table and found my little bottle of heat oil. Pouring it on was sheer bliss - the warmth of it surrounding my aching shaft and making it slick... so slick... I slid my fingers up and down it's length a few times, feather light and slow.

It didn't take much, with the heat from the scented oil and the thoughts in my mind. Release was beautiful agony, and I found myself whispering his name, "Milliard... Milliard..." Oh, how I ached to see him again.

*** My father insisted I stay at home and not meet the airplane as I had originally intended. He said it would look too eager, that guests should come to us, not vice versa. So for a good hour and ten minutes I paced the length of the house, wondering what he would be like, what we would talk about, whether he still thought of me as a friend.

The sound of tires on gravel announced the arrival of the car and driver sent to collect him and I decided I couldn't wait any longer. I opened our large front door and looked down the steps to the wide drive in front of the house. He stood beside the car, looking up at me, and I nearly had to hold on to the doorframe to steady myself at the sight of him.

He had grown quite tall for his eleven years, with long, slender legs and the beginnings of a broad chest. His hair, just below chin level when I'd met him five years earlier, now hung well below his shoulders in a silky, white-gold curtain, its sides neatly tucked behind his ears. Across his eyes fell long, platinum bangs and he looked up at me through them, shy and hesitant about what he should do.

I felt my expression soften and all I could do was smile at him, so bewildered there on the gravel in front of the house. It took all my will to walk, not run, down the steps. I stopped a little way in front of him. "At last! You're here! I'm so glad you could make it. Please - come in. Goldman, Master Merquise's bags, please."

Milliard bowed graciously to our driver and thanked him in a soft voice. At least some of my little friend's demeanor had held up during these difficult years. His manners were as impeccable as ever - my mother would be so pleased.

"Did you have a pleasant flight? Uneventful I hope?" I said, leading him up the front steps.

"Ah, yes, yes thank you for asking," he replied, his head down, eyes shaded. I stopped for a moment and looked at him - *really* looked at him. /He seems so unsure of himself... as if he were completely lost as to how to act. Surely this is a new and very disturbing change for him. We shall have to work on that, Milliard. You and I together.../

We got through the basic introductions, my mother, several aunts, and dear cousin Charlotte. To Milliard's great alarm, as well as my own, the girl took to my friend with a vengeance, taking his arm, asking about his schooling, leading him straight away from me towards the drawing room.

"So tell me - Zechs, is it? - what are you studying this year..."

I pulled my mother aside as they disappeared around the large paneled door, followed by seemingly all my female relatives. "I'm sorry, Mother, but I *will* have to rescue him. The boy's just gotten here. He really should be given some time to rest before being besieged by Charlotte."

She picked up the indignant tone I was trying to hide and smile a little at me. "Now, now, Treize - you should be happy that your young guest is so well-received. He'll have plenty of time to rest before lunch, but right now you should be in their as part of his welcome."

I rolled my eyes, one of the few childish gestures I still retained (though I was trying hard to rid myself of it.) When my mother thought something inappropriate she would step in and fight with fierce dedication, but if a thing were judged courteous and mannerly in her eyes, then woe be to he who tried to stop it. Over the years I had seen several adult males, in the family and out of it, who had meet their doom on that point. I, however, favored my father on the matter and knew when I'd been defeated. With a great sigh, I headed towards the drawing room myself when a light touch at my elbow stopped me.

"I must say, though, Treize," my mother confided in a low whisper, "your friend is quite the most beautiful boy I have ever seen." She walked towards the stairs, stopping at the base for a quick wink at me and the murmured words, "Well chosen."

I nodded my thanks to her and went through to the drawing room.

My female relations had finally agreed to let Milliard out of their clutches to rest and freshen up for lunch, but only after extracting promises from him for various game or other favors after dinner that evening. I have to admit he was all graciousness and, though obviously feeling very shy, managed to please all who met him and offend none.

Now we were upstairs in the small suite of rooms my mother had assigned to him. They were very rarely used, off in the oldest part of the house, next to mine. Here there would be no unexpected visitors or sounds of relatives coming and going. Just us, and time to spend together.

My mother had taken care that the small sitting room was exquisitely decorated - every touch a gracious masterpiece in miniature. A brass bowl of fragrant oranges sat next to the window seat by a hidden heating vent so that the scent filled the room. It blended with that of the cinnamon sticks in the small baskets of pine cones that stood next to a tiny hearth where a cheerful fire blazed. A small table held a wooden box full of teas and spices as well as a miniature tea pot and two (bless the dear woman) festive cups. A shelf of books that I had loved when Milliard's age was positioned by one of the little arm chairs that flanked the fire.

I went through to the diminutive bedroom, worried that somehow something may have been missed. I should have known my mother better than that, however, for everything was in perfect order. A fleecy, hooded robe and slippers waited for him in the wardrobe, an extra stack of thick, cream-colored blankets and pillows in the closet, and a dish of ornament candies - a local favorite, each one a glowing jewel - in a small silver dish by the bedside.

Milliard had followed me, still saying nothing, but I could tell he was impressed by the little smile on his face and his shy glances towards me. We walked into the tiny bathroom and found a small bathtub, fragrant soaps, and fluffy white towels being warmed on a towel rack.

I couldn't help but smile at him. "Do you like it, Milliard?"

"Oh, yes," he said in a breathy voice. "It's quite the most beautiful room I've ever -" He broke off for a moment, temporarily speechless, then gathered himself again and finished, "I've ever stayed in. Thank you. And I'll be sure to thank your mother, too, when next I see her."

"Well - shall I leave you to rest a bit before we meet some of the hoard at luncheon?"

"Oh - I..." he ducked his head suddenly and to my great surprise (and delight) blushed. "Of course. I'll be fine. What time should I be downstairs?"

I stared at him. He still couldn't bring himself to look at me and my mind was ablaze with possibilities. Why this reaction to my leaving? What could it mean? What should I do?

Of course, it was obvious what I should do. He had said he would be fine and that necessitated my leaving, but my heart was just not in it. If I'd had my way I would have stayed in those tiny rooms with him for the next four days and never come out, but manners dictated that I go so I murmured something about 1 o'clock to him and turned to go.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I felt a small tug at my jacket sleeve. I turned slowly and saw him, head further down, slender fingers grasping my sleeve. I do believe that every time I have looked back to wonder just when it was that I became bound to Milliard Peacecraft forever, I have to say it was that moment.

I was already in love with him, of course - had been since the day I met him five years previous. But the sweet agony of commitment hadn't rung down until he reached out, in his own frightened way, for someone - and that someone happened to be me.

The rush of feeling that went through me at that point is hard to describe, but suffice it to say that I nearly dropped where I stood before reaching back to him and holding his wrists lightly.

"Milliard? What is it? Are you feeling unwell?"

He looked up at me at last, his eyes gone intensely blue, and whispered, "Please, Treize - don't leave me... please, please, I beg you - don't leave."

I let my arms drop and then slipped them around him, pulling him close. "No Milliard, I won't leave. Not if you want me to stay." My hands were stroking the back of his head now, fingers running through the fragrant silk of his hair. As long as you wish it, I'll stay.

He had dropped his gaze and was blushing again, but in another moment he had buried his face in my shirt, his own arms encircling my waist and hanging on as if he expected to be ripped away at any moment.

"Why this distress, my friend?" I asked of him. "Why are you so frightened?"

He didn't look up at me, but I could hear him whisper, "Because you're one of the few people who remember me the way I was. Who remembers my home the way it was. And I can't lose that - can't lose you, the way I lost them..."

He cried softly then, and I let him. He needed it so badly and I needed to comfort him, to stroke his long hair and hold him tightly and give him every assurance that I would not abandon him.

When his sobs quieted and his breathing was more steady, I gently moved him to the bed and got him to lay down. Thinking for just a moment of what my relatives would say, I laid down next to him and allowed myself to be grabbed and hugged tightly again. Within minutes, my little friend was fast asleep.

Milliard slept until lunch was ready and the meal itself went off without a hitch. I considered it a trial run of how things would go at dinner, although it was a bit easier if only because Nikolai and his father weren't there. My little friend was introduced to several of my male relatives and was able to answer all of their questions. Did he go out for sport? (Yes, swimming.) Did he ride? (Yes.) Did he shoot? (No.) What did he plan for his future? (Unsure at the moment.) With each one, I held my breath to see how he'd do, and on each one he shined - shyly, of course -but he shined nonetheless.

I approached him at the end of the meal and asked if he would like to see the grounds. "It's a lovely old place - lots of gardens, a gazebo, a hedge maze even. We can go into Kiev tomorrow if you like, maybe have lunch there, but I'd like to show you something of the place today. Shall we go?"

He nodded and smiled up at me shyly and I was in heaven.

So that's how we came to be walking down the lane that runs along the eastern part of our property at the same time that Nikolai was coming up. We stopped and I greeted him, turning quickly to introduce Milliard to him. "This," I said to him, "is my guest for the holiday, Zechs Merquise. Zechs, this is my cousin, Nikolai Pestrak."

Milliard bowed and said softly, "I'm pleased to meet you." Nikolai did not bow. He stood, staring hard at the young prince, tapping his riding crop against his leg in a vaguely threatening gesture.

"Well, well - so you're the Christmas treat, are you?" he said unpleasantly, running his eyes up and down Milliard's body.

I was shocked speechless momentarily as Milliard blinked up at my cousin. "I... I beg your pardon?" he said softly, no doubt disbelieving what he'd just heard. If my eyes were daggers my cousin would have been lying dead and bleeding on the snow. I grabbed Milliard's arm and pulled him down the lane with me. He was obviously very confused, murmuring, "Treize?" before looking back over his shoulder at Nikolai. I looked back just once, to give the bastard a last glare, and saw him, standing in the same place we'd left him, the horrible smile on his face again.

So Nikolai felt he could humiliate my guest just after being introduced? Well, he would find out quite differently, I thought to myself. *No one* would ever speak to Milliard that way and get away with it. No one.

We had walked quite a way in silence, the only sound our boots crunching against the snow. So when he said my name again, I nearly jumped at the sound. Looking down at him, I saw I had never let go of his arm, so I dropped it then and slowed my pace. "I'm very sorry you had to hear that idiotic remark, Milliard. Nikolai is nothing but an ass and he feels no more compunction insulting people he doesn't know than he does abusing family members. Please accept my apologies for him."

He looked up at me, his beautiful face showing confusion and worry. "What did he mean by that?" he asked me, staring into my eyes and not letting me look away.

How should I explain to him? What should I say about what Nikolai thought without betraying my own feelings or making him more afraid or shy than he already was? I decided on the truth. If I were ever, at a future date when he was older of course, to move us past friendship, it was important that Milliard know about my likes and dislikes.

"He was suggesting that you and I were more than friends," I said, working to keep my voice steady. "He knows I - prefer boys, rather than girls and he thinks that my asking you here meant that we were, well..." My voice trailed off as I realized he was no longer by my side. Turning around, I saw him standing several feet back, staring at me in absolute bewilderment.

I felt a sympathetic smile cross my face and said softly, "You don't have any idea of what I'm talking about, do you?" He shook his pretty head. "Let's find someplace warm - and private. We can talk about it there."

I walked back to him and took his hand. As I smile down at him, it began to snow. He looked up, frowning a little and said, "Did I do something wrong?"

'No," I replied, wanting to add, /I'd wager that no one has ever told you that you look breathtaking with the snow falling on you, catching on that beautiful hair - your long, golden lashes.../ "No you've done nothing. Take everything Nikolai says to you these next few days with the smallest grain of salt you can think of. He's an idiot - always has been. Now let's go find that warm place, and have a nice, long talk."

I led Milliard to a small cottage that lay on the far eastern edge of my father's property, reaching the door just as the snow began to fall in earnest. As I rummaged in the tiny cupboards for cocoa fixings, Milliard deftly started a fire in the hearth and soon we were at either ends of a cushioned window seat, watching the snow blanket the bare trees and the pines. Reluctant to spoil such an idyllic moment by bringing up my cousin, I looked over at my young guest and smiled. "Are you enjoying yourself so far, Milliard?"

He smiled, eyes cast downward, and nodded his head. "Yes," he said softly. "This place is beautiful - I can understand why you would want to come back here for the holidays. And..." He paused looked at me for a moment, so I raised an eyebrow. It made him smile and he ducked his head again. "I really like your mother, too."

Now it was my turn to smile. She *did* have that effect on people. She made everyone feel as if he or she was the most special person in the room and it never felt false. I made a silent note to myself to thank her for her dealings with Milliard.

He wanted to speak again, just having trouble getting the words out from behind his shyness, so I leaned forward, very close to him, and smiled mischievously. "What is it?" I asked.

He brought his head up suddenly and I gasped, completely unprepared for the stunning blue eyes that stared back into mine. "Why did you invite me, Treize?" he demanded softly.

"Why? W-well -"

"It's not that I don't want to be here -" he said all of a rush, "not at all - it's just, well... we don't know each other very well." He frowned into his cocoa. I was starting to recognize the expression as one he used when he was thinking seriously about something. Besotted with him as I was, I found it adorable.

"No," I said, "we don't. I suppose I wanted to change that and that's why I asked you here. Is that all right?"

He blushed furiously and couldn't raise his eyes to mine. "Yes. But surely you must think differently about me after this morning. I'm... I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I know it had something to do with seeing you again, after all that time, but -"

"You have nothing to apologize for my friend," I soothed, grasping his hand. "Things have been so difficult for you, I'm not at all surprised that you would want the comfort of someone connected to your past. I would never think less of you for that."

Finally, his eyes met mine. I felt a shiver run through me, wanting to touch him, to hold him in my arms, wondering what a kiss from those lips would feel like. "Thank you, Treize. Thank you - for wanting me here. It's nice to be somewhere because someone has asked me, instead of just being tolerated because of who my father was."

I couldn't help myself then. His words were too haunting and I too much in love to leave him alone. I moved the few inches closer that I needed and reached up with one finger, tracing his cheek. We looked at each other for a long, long time before I managed to get out, "You can relax, little prince. You are definitely wanted here."

A spasm of pain crossed his face and he shook his head, making the long golden strands sway. "Please," he whispered, "I'm not a prince anymore. You can't be prince of a place that doesn't exist. I'm just Zechs now. Nothing more."

"Not to me," I murmured, running my hand over his hair. "The Federation may be powerful but they can't change the fact that you were the firstborn of the King of Sank. They can't *ever* take that away from you. So to me, you'll always be Milliard, Prince of Sank."

He smiled at me then, softly, a little sadly, and then got up and carried his cup into the kitchen. As I watched him go, admiring his long lines and the way his hair fell down his back , I couldn't help but think, /And someday, Milliard, you should be King./

The snow had lightened somewhat and we headed back towards the house. We were already inside when I realized I'd forgotten to explain my cousin's rude comment.

Pre-dinner drinks with most of the relatives - "What could be worse?" I asked my reflection as I smoothed the trimming of my dress coat. Dinner would be trial enough, but my mother had insisted and so here I was, all dressed up in a dark blue coat and cream-colored breeches. I had a tiny rosebud on my breast and lace at my throat and all in all, thought I'd made a good job of it. I gave myself a wink and murmured, "Time to meet the Prince."

Locking the door to my rooms, I went along the hallway to Milliard's door and knocked softly. "Are you ready?" I called and, receiving an affirmative reply, stood back as the door opened. I feel rather sheepish in saying that after that it became a little more difficult to breathe.

My young friend stepped into the hallway dressed in a deep crimson jacket with the loveliest trimming I have ever seen. It was rather ornate, done in gold and black and followed the line of his jacket lapels up and across his shoulders, making them seem broader then they were. The jacket itself was short and below it he wore long, close-fitting black trousers with a subtle gold striping down the leg, giving his long limbs an even longer look.

"Do - do I look all right?" he asked anxiously, looking at my clothes in something akin to distress. "Only, we never wore breeches in Sank."

"You are perfect, young master Zechs, and everyone in my family is going to adore you." I gave him a wink and headed down the stairs.

We entered the drawing room, where everyone coming to dinner had gathered. I had meant to get him down here earlier so that he could watch others arrive instead of them watching him, but the time had gotten away from me so that we were the last to come in. As we did, I could feel, as well as see, every head turning towards him, and I smiled to myself. My little prince was not someone who could easily be ignored and I wondered if he felt the eyes on him as he accepted a tame little cocktail from our butler. I took a much-needed bourbon.

My uncle Max was the first one over, saying, "So - this is your young friend, Treize. Looks very Nordic," he stated, eying Milliard's hair and eyes, talking as if my guest were a prize horse at auction. He peered down at him, Milliard reddening under his gaze, and asked, "You from Scandinavia or some such place?"

The boy was obviously too afraid to speak and I stepped in for him. "No, Uncle, a small town in the northern part of the Teutonic States, but he's been living in France for the last several months, though, isn't that right Zechs?"

He nodded and managed to say, "Oh, yes. Yes, just outside of Paris since July."

My uncle then began asking Milliard what he thought of the French, their food, and Paris museums, all of which my companion seemed to have well-mannered opinions on, much to my surprise. He may have been only 11, but he was already well beyond his years in his thinking. By the end of the conversation Uncle Max was smitten, patting Milliard on the back and trying to make him smile by telling rather silly stories of his years on the Right Bank. Some of these even required him to make ridiculous faces or strike odd poses. Still he told each with gusto, looking for Milliard's reaction each time. He finally wandered off in search of more liquor leaving my friend staring after him with a solemn face. He looked up at me and said softly, "Is it just me, or is your uncle a very unusual man?" I nearly laughed aloud but managed to keep my response to a wide smile as a wave of aunts approached us.

Cousin Nikolai, lurking in the corner of the room next to the liquor cabinet, did not seek us out. Nonetheless, he kept his eye on Milliard as I introduced him to an endless stream of relatives, raising my ire with his boldness and lack of manners.

Just before we went in to dinner, I was approached by my father's cousin, an old military officer, known in the family as The Colonel. He was a Federation man, first, last, and always, and at most family gatherings ended up arguing war and politics with my father and his brothers.

He was tall and beefy, well over 6 feet in height and broadly built. Sidling up to me he seemed to completely ignore my companion, whom he dwarfed, and said in a well-oiled voice, "Well, *Officer* Khushrenada, how are the Specials treating you? Old Septem putting you through your paces, hmm?"

"Yes, sir," I managed a smile for him. "I have a post in the Pacific at the moment, but the General says I'm the next one for Space when there's a need. I'm looking forward to that immensely."

"As you should, as you should," he nodded eagerly. "These Colonials think they can push Earth around, but they don't realize who they're provoking, do they? They think we'll turn the other cheek and run away. Anyone would think they'd never heard of the China group, or, even better, Sank. Now *there* was little operation of hardly any consequence to us that stilled the entire pacifistic movement - Hah!"

I felt Milliard stiffen beside me. Glancing down at him briefly, I saw him staring off into the distance, his eyes mildly glazed and his entire body trembling.

The gong rang then, but I knew the injury had already been done. My mother came to take Milliard's arm for the walk into dinner. He was able to smile at her, weakly, but he didn't look at me as she led him towards the dining room. I could only guess at what he was thinking. That I was like my distant cousin - like the men who had killed his father and destroyed his homeland. /Does he hate me?/ I wondered, string at his back. /Does he really think I could agree with that man and still invite him here? I need to explain things to him.../

My mother, at one end of the table, had put Milliard to her left and myself to her right. All during the savory, the sweet, the soup and fish courses, I stared across the table at him, trying to catch his eye. But my mother had struck up a lively conversation amongst Milliard, my aunt Sonya, who was to his left, and herself, and he had every excuse not to meet my gaze. My neighbor to the right, a distant cousin of mine, much older than myself, was debating the pros and cons of Kiev's new mayor with two of my maternal uncles further down the table, so I was free to brood.

It was something I hadn't thought about until this moment. Why would Milliard have agreed to come here at all? I had told him that I was with the Specials, though not my reason for being there, so as far as he knew, I was working for the government who had made him an orphan. Yet, he *had* come, so there must have been something more to his silence than shock and disgust at my military career.

Well, I told myself, I shall have it out of him after dinner or know the reason why. And having made that decision, I turned, with a sense of relief, to some serious eating.

The dessert dishes were empty, as were the wine glasses and now the organization of the after dinner period was underway. Those who have never lived or stayed at a noble's estate for the holidays have no idea what a chore this is. My mother of course, was a master at it. It was important, she once told me, to match people up in groups so as to maximize the chance for sociability and to minimize any opportunity for tempers, jealousies, or revenge. She had also confided to me that while kindling the fire for an extramarital tryst between guests was less than desirable, even that might be needed to make an evening go. Nothing was more poisonous, she said, than a lull in the conversation. I took her opinions in these matters as gospel.

She was skillfully guiding one guest after another towards a suitable group, subtly discouraging what she liked to call "unfortunate meetings", when I caught her elbow and whispered a request for some time alone with Milliard into her ear.

"Oh, Treize!," she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry! I didn't know you wanted him so I sent him off with Nikolai and Charlotte. I thought that Nikolai might benefit from knowing him a little better and having Charlotte around always makes him less boastful."

I felt an unfamiliar wave of anxiety pass over me as I thought of Nikolai alone with my friend. If what I thought might happen truly had, then Charlotte would have been conveniently lost somewhere along the way to -

"Where did you send them, Mother?"

"Into the games room of course. I suppose you'll be wanting to go check up on him instead of talking politics with your uncle Dermail as you should be doing?" Her gaze was reproachful and I suddenly felt like a 5-year-old again.

"I promise I'll speak to Dermail sometime this evening," I said, kissing her cheek, and with that I set off to rescue my guest from the nasty tongue of my cousin.

As I expected, the only person in the games room was Charlotte, who waved in a silly, cheerful way as I walked in. She was deep in a game of Patience, hunched over the cards like a crafty wizard over a bubbling cauldron. "Charlotte, dear," I said, making my voice sound casual, "where are your companions?"

"Oh, they're... somewhere..." she mumbled, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the French doors that let out onto a small terrace, before going back to her cards. Obviously nothing more would be forthcoming from her direction, so I set out through the doors. It was a cold, damp night, and the fog was coming down over the snow, making it difficult to see anything beyond a few steps in front of me. I was just about to call his name when I heard Milliard's voice, angry and perhaps a little frightened, somewhere ahead of me.

"Why don't you leave me alone!" he was saying.

"I'm only trying to tell you what my dear cousin is really like. Don't you want to know why he *really* asked you here?"

I froze, wanting to shout to him but unable to say a word. I could only listen.

"I know why he asked me."

"I don't think so. I think you know what Treize has *told* you, but what he says isn't always the truth. You see, my cousin is a bit, odd shall we say? in his tastes. He doesn't have much use for girls. No, Treize likes boys instead. Boys like you I would imagine, though I didn't know he liked them quite so young. You'd have thought he would have had his fill in the Specials, but I suppose being on holiday he didn't want to be without his usual source of comfort. That's all you are to him, you know."

Now Milliard's voice was softer, full of confusion. "I... I don't understand... I want to go back to the house -"

"You'll stay right here and listen to what I have to say! You don't understand? Well I can explain it to you. Do you know what my cousin intends to do to you? Hmm? Did you know that he wants to-"

"Milliard!!" I heard myself yelling his name, trying to drown out that hateful voice. I *never* yell, and yet that beast had driven me to it. God how I hated him! But one good thing at least came out of that yell. My dear little friend, who has ears like a bat's I swear, began running towards me and in less than 10 seconds had found me in the fog.

He ran right into me and then grabbed the lapels of my coat, looking up into my face. "Can we go back inside, please?" he whispered, and I put an arm around him, leading him back towards the terrace and into the warmth of the house. Nikolai never said another word.

Charlotte was still engrossed with Patience in the games room, so we went through to the little sitting room on the other side of it. Following Milliard inside, I shut and locked the door and then stood with my back to him for a moment, trying to regain some scrap of composure. I turned finally, only to see him staring out the small mullioned window at the fog. "Well," I said softly, "tonight could have gone better."

He didn't turn to face me, just kept staring out of the window and said, "I shouldn't have come."

"Nonsense, Milliard! I wanted you to come and you're here and it's wonderful to have you. Why would you say such a thing?"

"Your family, Treize, and... and mine - they wouldn't have agreed on much. Hearing that man talk, before dinner, about people like they were his dogs to be punished... as if it was his right to destroy an entire country whenever its leader and its people disagreed with him and then saying it was of 'little consequence' to the Federation..." Milliard was trembling again, his hands balled into fists at his side. Suddenly, he whirled around, long blond hair flying out for a moment as he turned. "No one has that right!!" he shouted at me. "No one should be able to kill people because of what they believe!! No one should have the power to wipe an entire nation off the face of the map just because its leader talks about peace!!"

I was a little dazed at the fierceness behind his words. This was my shy little friend who could hardly hold his head up to meet my eyes? I tried to explain to him about the vagaries of war. "Milliard, the Federation is very powerful and they don't-"

"You can't say 'they', Treize! You're a part of it now! So you'll go off to Space and do to some poor colony what those awful people did to my father's kingdom. Is that why you're so excited about going? To feel that power over other people's lives? To invade their cities, to destroy their homes, to kill them if you happen to feel like it? Is that what you've become?"

He shook his head violently and turned back to the window. I walked over to him and put both arms around him tightly from behind. "No!" he hissed at me, struggling to get free. "Let go of me! You make me sick! You and all your wars and fighting and killing! Well damn you to hell for what your people did to my father! Damn you bastards to hell!!" His struggles were growing weaker as I held him fast. Finally, he stood still, panting softly his breath catching in little sobs. He hung his head and I felt warm tears spill onto my hands which surrounded his arms and waist.

Tightening my grip on him, I leaned over him and gently put my cheek against his, my lips brushing the long bangs just in front of his ears. "I don't *want* the Federation to be that way, Milliard," I whispered. "My uncle has a plan and I have others and we're going to see that things change. But to do that we have to be inside the group, don't you see?" Being this close to him, I could help but nuzzle his ear lightly as I continued.

"They don't know what they're doing. And they make idiotic decisions like the one they made about Sank. There's no sense of honor, or dignity, or fairness in them. None at all. Not like there is in you and in me and others of our sort, who grew up with those things instilled in us. It's people like you and me, Milliard, who should be in charge. When other people see such strong leaders, they won't need to fight, because they'll be satisfied that their needs are being taken care of. You can't inspire that kind of confidence and loyalty if you're someone off the street. It takes a person of breeding and honor and status to do that. A person very much like ourselves. That's the lesson the Federation needs to learn - that they *will* learn. Because *I'm* the one who's going to teach them."

We stood together, completely still, for several moments. Then Milliard turned in my arms and looked intently into my eyes. "So... you don't agree with what they did... to my father?"

I brought a hand up and began to trace the lines of his face. "Milliard, you father was a kind and gracious man and what they did to him and to your country - and to *you*- was an atrocity. Don't think, even for one minute, that I would ever approve of what they did."

There was a pause while he searched my face, letting me run my fingertips over his lips and cheeks, and then, almost a whisper, "Thank you, Treize. God bless you for that at least."

He rested his head against my shoulder, and I began stroking his long hair, fingers drifting over pure silk. "Treize?" he said softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Why did your cousin take me out there tonight? I didn't understand what he was trying to say about you, but I know it probably wasn't good."

I thought for a long moment of how to explain things to him, in a way that he could understand. "Have you - ever been in love with anyone? Thought you loved them? Pretended you were going to marry them? Anything like that?"

He frowned a little, then shook his head, his face solemn.

"Well - you will be in love, someday, when you get a chance to meet more people. And what you'll probably do is meet a lovely girl and get married and sire a houseful of blond-haired imps." I hated the idea, and walked away from him to stare at the line of books in the dark wooden bookcase. "But I'm not like that, Milliard. I have no intention of getting married. You see... I prefer men as partners. Women are wonderful, of course, so lively and fun and such pretty things to look at. But in terms of physical intimacy and close friendship, men are far more attractive to me."

His voice, coming from behind me, was full of uncertainty. "What's 'physical intimacy'?"

I turned around quickly and stared at him. "What's -? Milliard, surely..." He looked so bewildered I almost laughed, but thought better of it. "Did your parents ever talk to you about... sex?"

"You mean where babies come from? Of course I know about that. Is that what 'physical intimacy' means?"

"Well, somewhat. Of course men can't have babies so it's just... just done... for the way it feels... it feels... very, very good..." Why was it so difficult to talk with him about this? I felt as if I were nine-years-old again, all blushes and agony.

Again he looked deeply puzzled. "But, with two men - where do you - that is... how -" He blushed and stared at the floor, not knowing how to ask his question. I took pity on him then.

I had suddenly remembered one of my primary sources of knowledge when I had been in the "information gathering stage", not much older than my friend.

"Do you read novels yet Milliard?"

"Novels? Yes of course. My tutor and I just finished one. I like them, though not as much as histories."

"Well then," I said, feeling my feet on the ground a bit more, "when we get upstairs I'm going to give you a novel and I want you to read every word, do you promise?"

He nodded.

"Good," I said breathing a sigh. "You can read it and it should... help you understand this kind of thing better. And if you have questions..." all my bravery forward here, "we can talk about them."

"Yes, all right," he said. I smiled warmly at him, feeling much more confident now that I'd thought of a way to escape explaining the mechanics to him. That confidence, however, blinded me temporarily and left me completely unprepared for what he said next.

"So... when I read this novel... the things that are in it... are they things you want to do to me?"

I stared at him, stunned. No words would come out. Most impolite of me, but there it was.

He continued to look at me with the frankness that comes of innocence. "Your cousin - outside - he said he'd tell me what you wanted to do to me. And he said it just after he said you liked boys, so... I assume that you want to do the things that are in the novel, the novel that will explain what men like to do together." He tilted his head a little and frowned. "Am I wrong?"

I had never felt so out of my depth, but he needed an answer so I did the best I could. Taking his hand, I said softly, "Milliard, I want to be your friend... your special friend, whom you think of before anyone else. If I can be that to you, then that's enough for now."

He blessed me then with a radiant smile, a kind like I'd never seen on his face. I had to smile back at him and when I did he said, "You already are my special friend, Treize. There's nobody like you in the whole world."

24 December

The day dawned cloudy, with a good promise for more snow. I was up early, as my guest and I were headed for town that day and would be breakfasting before most of my relatives had stirred.

I dressed myself warmly with an eye to the formal side of my wardrobe. After all, today we would be in Kiev, and I had my family's good name to consider. /Better go warn Milliard of that/ I thought to myself and headed off to his rooms.

To my great surprise, I found my little friend already risen and gone. He had left his door unlocked so I stepped in to have a look and had to smile. Absolutely nothing was out of place. The bed was made with precision folds, the bathroom, still slightly steamy from his bath was, nonetheless, spotless, and his clothes, when I glanced into the closet, were hung and stacked as neatly as I have ever seen. Oh, Milliard, I thought... so neat and formal, even at 11 - what *will* you be like when you're older...

Heading downstairs to look, I didn't find him at the breakfast table either. Just my mother, who always rose early when she had guests, so as to avoid as much as possible any potential trouble spots by seeing to them before they became troublesome. There was nothing my mother hated more than being unpleasantly surprised when people were in the house. She smiled and came over to adjust my scarf a little more perfectly. "When can we expect the two of you back?" she said, looking as if she knew something I didn't. "Oh, well -" I thought for a moment, " - it's just some shopping and lunch. Shouldn't take too long."

She widened her eyes dramatically. "Treize! You can't take a guest to Kiev for the first time and not show him the St. Sophia or the Golden Gate, or at least the Ballet building! What manners are those?"

I looked at her, quite perplexed. I would have sworn she'd want us back as soon as possible. Then she winked at me and leaned close, whispering, "It's so sweet - he's done all his homework this morning, you know." At my questioning look she continued. "Go have a look in the library. He came down about and hour and a half ago and asked for help in finding the books he needed."

Intrigued, I went along the main hallway to the Library and quietly opened the door. A fire was crackling in the hearth and Milliard was curled up, his shoes on the floor, in one of my father's overstuffed arm chairs with a large tome in front of him. I caught a glimpse of the spine and understood immediately: "A Social and Political History of Kiev." On the library table beside him were several smaller books about the architecture of the city, it's leaders, and the cultural highlights. Doing his homework indeed.

"Milliard?"

He gave a little jump and blinked at me several times. "Oh! I... hope it's all right if I'm... that is, I did ask... what I mean is-"

"Good morning, Milliard," I said graciously.

"Good morning, Treize," he replied, looking for disapproval in my face and finding none.

"Shall we have some breakfast and then head into town? I want an early start because there is *so* much I want to show you."

He smiled at me, another one of those radiant things he'd begun to do, and I led him off to breakfast as he hopped beside me, trying to get his shoes back on.

I'm still not sure how we did it, but we saw almost everything he'd read about that day. He stood in the middle of St. Sophia and put his head back, marveling at the mosaics and columns until he grew dizzy and would have fallen completely over had I not caught him. We walked the Andriyivsky Uzviz, where the crowds, the lights, and all the lovely little shops made him gape. He was so entranced that the shopkeeper's began to give him funny looks and I had to hasten him along to the next treasure trove to keep us out of trouble. I hadn't thought about it, but he'd never really been in a city such as Kiev before. His entire life had been spent in Sank until the day of the attack. Since then he'd practically been in hiding. His wonder and amazement at it all made perfect sense and I gloated to myself that I was the one to be showing it to him.

We stopped at Richard Coeur de Lion's Castle on our way down the street, and he ran up the tower steps, making me chase after him, all the way to the top. When I caught up to him on the rampart he was transformed. He stood on the base of the flag pole, arms around it, cheeks reddened, his hair blowing back from his face, looking noble and regal and happy. I marveled at him - drinking him in against the time I would be away from him.

We went to see the National Ballet Theater, and St. Andrew's church, both of which he told me all about from his studies. And we walked through an ikon museum, which made him quiet and serious.

Lunch came late, in an intimate tea room I knew of in the shopping district and then we walked along the river. We came in time to a small terrace that would hold cafe tables in the summer. The swarms of tourists and shoppers that had dogged our steps all day had vanished suddenly and we were quite alone, staring out at the river as it began to snow. At least, Milliard was staring out at the river. I was enjoying watching him.

He frowned down at the hand railing of the terrace and I prepared myself for a serious discussion. "Treize?" he began.

"Yes, Milliard?"

"Why is it that people like to kiss each other?"

"Oh, well - people kiss each other for lots of different reasons."

"I mean like in the book."

"The book?"

"The novel you gave me. Everyone in it is always kissing someone, or if they're not actually kissing, they're thinking about kissing, or talking about kissing, or writing letters to people they've kissed telling the other person they want to kiss again. But... why? Is kissing so wonderful as all that?" He looked up at me, perplexed, and expecting me to give him the answers he needed.

"Well, Milliard - it's been my experience that kissing is quite a lovely thing, when it's done with the right person." It was unusual for me to blush, even at 16, but I did then and hoped fervently that he wouldn't notice.

His stare grew more curious. "Have you kissed a lot of people, then? Other boys, I mean. Like in the novel?"

"Maybe not a lot, but enough to know that it's a delightful thing to do." My blush was deepening and the mere fact of its existence was making me flustered.

Milliard leaned over and looked closely at my face, scanning it with great curiosity. "Whatever are you doing?" I asked him, trying not to break out laughing at his serious expression.

He was staring at my lips now, as he said softly, "What does it feel like?"

I felt a wave of heat pass through me at his words, so direct and childlike, but with an air of wistfulness that showed the child beginning to reach out for new things it hadn't wanted before. I wanted to take him in my arms and show him what it felt like, but my mother's words were coming back to me: "... he *is* only 11-years-old. Your feelings for him may not be what he's expecting... or what he can handle. Be very careful...You're young of course, and I would hate to see you hurt, but he is much younger... give yourself - and him - time to come to an understanding before you do anything too - forward."

I looked down at him, still staring at me with those frank blue eyes. "It feels as if you've been given a gift from God. And one day, Milliard, I'm sure you will find out exactly what I mean."

He put his chin on top of his gloved hands and frowned again. "Well it doesn't seem like something all that wonderful. I don't think I should like it a bit."

My spirits may have sunken a little then, realizing that my desires and his were not at all in the same place at the moment. But I loved him deeply and was more than willing to give him the time he needed, just to grow up. I laughed over at him and tousled already windblown hair. "Talk to me in three years time, my friend, and *then* tell me you have no interest in kissing." Now his frown was directed at me

We walked a ways more in companionable silence until the snow grew heavy. Climbing back up to the street, I hailed a cab to take us to where our driver waited and soon we were comfortable and warm in the back seat, talking about our adventures and what we'd seen. Milliard was resting his head on my shoulder and I was feeling, if not completely satisfied, then happy in the knowledge that he was with me and felt comfortable here.

I was staring out the windows at the snow drifting down when he said it. "Treize?"

"Yes, Milliard?"

"I don't think I'm ever going to want to kiss anyone, but... if I *do* want to someday, would it be all right if you were the one I kissed?"

I closed my eyes and said a small prayer of thanks, pressing my cheek to the head nestled on my shoulder. "I think that I would like that very much," I said and smiled down against his hair in the growing afternoon dusk.

The evening was a blur of activity. We had a traditional Christmas Eve dinner with the entire family there, thirty people in all. Milliard was placed across from my Uncle Max, who regaled him with stories of strange customers he'd had in his many years of business. Next to him was an elderly great-aunt, who did nothing much but smile at him and stroke his hair now and then and murmur, "Pretty, pretty." The first two or three times she did it he jumped, but he soon got used to it and did his best to smile back at her.

I had been placed directly across from my Uncle Dermail. My mother, obviously not trusting me to speak to the man myself had taken matters into her own hands. She had often told me that it should not be thought out of place to say that nations and leaders might rise and fall based on the seating plans of a few notable dinners.

As it was, Dermail and I got along on the narrowest of definitions. While I admired his rejection of the Federation and his desire to see the nobility restored to its former position of power, on close inspection he was rather boorish and unwilling to listen to any point of view but his own. He would, I mused, be an excellent family contact to use and admire from afar.

>From there it was to the large tree in the grand drawing room to open presents. Most of it was a blur of paper and tags and toys for the youngest: I had three distant cousins who were 8-year-old triplets, and one of Dermail's daughters had brought along her 7-year-old girl.

I accepted a beautiful wool cloak from my mother, a set of military histories from my father, and an assortment of odds and ends from various relatives. I had opened one very strange present - a tiny statue of Michelangelo's David with a clock in his stomach - and had turned round to show Milliard when I realized that he wasn't in the room. I murmured my apologies to my mother and hurried out to search for him. He was nowhere on the ground floor and surely the snow was too heavy for him to wander off outside, so I headed up the stairs to his rooms. Sure enough, there he was curled up by the fire with a book.

"Milliard - whatever are you doing up here by yourself?" I said, coming into the room and sitting in the armchair across from him.

He ducked his head, looking ashamed, and said softly, "I'm sorry , Treize. I stayed as long as I could, but when those boys started opening up their presents..."

Of course, I thought, how blind of me. Surely a family Christmas with children and toys would remind him of his own holidays before the attack on Sank. I felt rather dreadful for not thinking of that ahead of time, but vowed I'd make it up to him somehow.

"No need to explain, my friend," I said soothingly, "I understand how difficult this must be - especially tonight. Will you come to church with us, though?" He nodded his assent and I got up to leave. "I'll call you when we're ready to go," I said and closed his door, but not before noticing that the book he was reading was the novel I'd given him.

Strange, I thought wryly, for a boy who wasn't interested in kissing, that story of several boys and their romances with each other was certainly proving to be riveting. I smiled to myself as I went downstairs to rejoin the party. /You may be a lot closer than you think, Milliard... a lot closer indeed./

We had gone to church at midnight, the snow still falling heavily, blanketing everything for miles in that peculiar hushed whiteness that only deep snow can bring. Milliard had managed to follow the service through the many special prayers and the strange Ukrainian carols that he couldn't understand. As we walked out at the end of the service, a cry of delight went up among my relatives - my father had seen fit to order several large sleighs and the horses to pull them as the method of choice for getting everyone back to the house. With five or six of us to a sleigh, we set out, taking the long way home through the little stand of woods that lay between the church and our property to the east. It was dark and lovely and Milliard fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. It would have been perfect, if Nikolai had not been glaring at us from across the seat the entire way home.

I awoke during the night with the feeling that something was amiss. Putting on my robe and slippers, I went first to my guest's rooms and tried the door. It was, as I expected, unlocked and I walked quietly to the bedroom, only to find Milliard's bed empty. There was no one in the small bathroom, so I headed downstairs, worried that he might have been taken ill and not felt brave enough to tell anyone.

Searching the rooms, I found nothing and no one at all until I came to the grand drawing room, where we'd opened presents earlier in the evening. The door was partially open, so I eased it a bit wider and stepped through into the room itself. What I saw shocked me, but it also gave me the deepest insight I'd had yet on my young friend's thoughts and feelings.

Milliard was on the floor, near the stately fir that graced the room at the far end. He was sitting and staring intently at one of the presents my young cousins had been given. It was a toy Federation base, with a few bunkers and several hangars for planes - one large one being designated the mobile suit hangar. There were several soldiers scattered around the set, which was laid out on a low table in front of Milliard. There were also planes, loading trucks and several mobile suits out of the hangar.

As I watched, Milliard reached out a trembling hand and picked up one of the mobile suits. He held it up to the firelight and examined it in great detail, turning it around and around in his long, slender fingers. He seemed absolutely mesmerized by the thing.

Then, after several minutes of examination, the strangest thing of all happened. My little friend lined up the soldiers, planes, and trucks in front of the small buildings and then brought the little mobile suit down, clutched awkwardly in his fist, and knocked everyone of them down to the floor. He lined them up again and swept through them with his fist. As he stared at them, laying in pretend ruins on the floor, I heard him say softly, "That's for my father."

Once more he carefully lined them up and held the mobile suit high in his fist. Just before he brought it down to strike, I caught his wrist deftly in one hand and knelt down, just behind him to his right. His head snapped around and he stared at me, eyes glittering with a ferocity I'd never seen in him. He stared at me for a moment, then a deep blush crept slowly up his cheeks. He looked as if he were trying to say something, but couldn't get the words out.

With my hands, I moved his fingers around so that they held the tiny suit more gracefully. "The best thing about a mobile suit," I said as if we had been in the middle of a lesson, "is the pilot that guides it. It's because the pilot is strong and elegant that the suit can be also." Now that I'd gotten his fingers in a better position, I clasped my fingers over his and guided his arm so that the toy made graceful dives and turns in front of the tiny base. "A mobile suit is merely a weapon that a human pilot uses, and if it's used correctly, it can be as lovely and elegant a thing as the best rapier." Now I was moving his arm so that the toy's beam saber was feinting and thrusting, as if in a duel.

Quite a change had come over my young friend. He was staring in complete and utter fascination at the mobile suit and at our hands, gracefully moving it through space. In a minute or so, I let go of his hand and he took over the guidance of the suit, moving it in pretty dives and loops, his eyes locked onto it, his breath coming a little fast.

He looked with narrowed eyes at the toy base and then brought the suit down as I'd shown him, taking out first one, then two, then three other mobile suits before heading up into the air again and coming down for a second sortie. He did this 2 or 3 times until everything on the base was laid to waste on the floor in front of him. Then, still staring rather reverently at the tiny suit, he brought it down slowly, as if it were descending with jet thrusters braking, and touched it down amidst the ruin of the toy base. As he did, he entire body seemed to relax and he let out a long, ragged breath.

We sat in silence for a minute or so and then he spoke in the softest of voices. "I want to do that to the people who killed my father."

I looked at him in stunned silence. Milliard? The only son of the Peacecraft? Saying something like this? As I sat and stared at him, it seemed almost as if he were another person. His voice had been fierce and confident, his blue eyes intent on the miniature scene of destruction before him. His hands, as they had brought the mobile suit down for sortie after sortie, had been swift and, for the toys at least, deadly accurate.

"Milliard," I said softly, "do you know what you're saying?"

He turned and looked at me, the fierceness still glittering behind his eyes. "I know exactly what I'm saying," he whispered. "I just don't know how to do it."

As I stared at him, images of him began floating before my eyes. Six-years-old and solemn, watching me leave his father's palace. What he must have looked like as the Federation soldiers took over his country -when he saw his father killed. The bewilderment on his face when he had first arrived here and his regal bearing as he surveyed Kiev from the top of the Lionheart's castle. Now I had a new image - one of anger and determination and justice being delivered by a tiny mobile suit. His entire manner had changed because of the insight he'd gotten into why a man (or a boy for that matter) might *want* to fight.

As fond as I was of his softer self, whom I wanted to hold and soothe, I had to admit that I liked this other side of him equally well. He wasn't just a simple and tender boy who loathed fighting and felt the loss of his father terribly. I had discovered his complexity - a dedicated pacifist with a little warrior inside - and what it was that made him seem almost tormented at times. He wanted so much to live up to what he saw as his father's ideals of complete non-violence and yet... and yet, the anger in him at what was *done* to his father because of those ideals, the desire for vengeance against those who had done it and, I guessed, the guilt he mistakenly felt about not saving his family and country, had just overcome that peaceful facade.

It was a stunning realization that I, and he, too, I gathered, had just witnessed there with the tiny base and its perpetually doomed personnel.

I came out of my reverie to find him staring at me. He pointed at the toys and said, "Tell me how I can do this, Treize." We regarded each other for long moments before I answered him.

"You could train to be a mobile suit pilot."

One of his trademark frowns and then, "But that would mean I'd be working for *them.*"

"That's true," I said deliberately making my voice sound casual. "But no one knows just how long *they* are going to be in power."

His eyes burned into mine as he murmured, "So *that's* what you were talking about - the plans you and your uncle have... not just *changing* them, but..."

"Eliminating them - from the inside." I finished his sentence with a whisper and a smile.

I'll never forget the way he looked at me then. The shy, uncertain peacemaker was gone almost entirely. Only his nobility and formal reserve remained. The boy who was there in his place was almost eerily confident and his eyes, which had no trouble meeting mine, were shrewd and assessing, and within their ice-blue depths I could see the destruction of the entire Federation.

25 December

Milliard and I were awakened by the pounding of small fists on our doors and shrill, young voices crying out that breakfast was served. The little beasts were going back and forth between our two doors, first pounding, then calling our names, then giggling hysterically before starting in pounding again. Throwing on my robe I pulled the door open expecting to put the fear of God into the triplets.

What I saw was a bit different - the triplets had been there but were now careening down the staircase with terror on their faces (not as brave as I'd assumed them to be.) And standing just under my nose was a small girl, the 7-year-old, no doubt, her long, blond hair in delicate braids, her lovely Christmas dress freshly pressed, and a look of pure contempt on her fox-like face. "Hmmpf!" the creature said, putting her hands on her hips. "You certainly are lazy for being in the Specials! Having to have children come and wake you up!"

Milliard opened his door and peeked out, looking sleepy and absolutely adorable, also in his bathrobe. The girl turned and looked at him and a smile spread over her face. She put her hands behind her back and walked, no nearly sashayed, over to his door and purred, "*You* still need to take a bath... can I help?" This last request was delivered in the sweetest of voices with the little head tilted to the side at a charming, coquettish angle.

Milliard looked up at me in alarm just as a voice from downstairs called, "Dorothy! Dorothy, where *are* you? Come down here and stop bothering your uncle this minute, do you hear me?"

The creature seemed to deflate, all of her girlish charms withering with that voice. She scowled down at the stairs and called out glumly, "Yes, *mother*..."

With a last flirtatious smile at Milliard and a roll of her eyes at me, she disappeared around the banister and peace reigned once more.

Milliard moved with great caution to the edge of the stairwell and looked over the side. He closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh. He turned to me and said solemnly, "Who *was* that?"

Being at a complete loss myself, I laughed and scratched my head. "Well," I said, "she's apparently called Dorothy and, unfortunately appears to be a relative of mine."

He nodded gravely and said, "She has your eyebrows."

"Thank you for pointing that out Milliard," I said, rubbing my temples. "That thought gives me no end of cheer."

He looked as if he was trying to cover a smile and not quite succeeding as he looked down at his hands and mumbled, "So sorry, Treize... so sorry." Then he chuckled - the little beast actually chuckled- and fled to his room leaving me standing outraged in the hallway.

Christmas Day had always been a lazy one in my family. The devout among us went to church, the rest of us stayed at home and enjoyed our gifts, played cards, and ate large amounts of chocolate. This of course, while we waited for the Christmas feast to be served. All in all, it was a day of profound hedonism when one did only what one truly wanted to do.

I was being recruited into a group of my aunts for bridge - a game I despise - when the gods smiled on me and Milliard pulled me aside to make a request.

"I was wondering if you might show me how to shoot," he said, looking up at me almost defiantly.

"Certainly, dear friend, certainly," I patted his hand, smiling broadly, and went to give my sincerest apologies to my aunts.

"We can probably round up a good half dozen others who'd like some air," I said as we left the room but Milliard stopped and clutched my sleeve.

"No! Please - I... I don't want anyone to see..."

I bent down and whispered conspiratorially, "But no one here knows you're a Peacecraft except my parents."

He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at the floor for a moment. "It's not that. I just... don't want anyone to know how bad I am at it."

"Oh!," I said straightening again, "Oh, well if you'd prefer - of course we can do this on our own." So we donned coats and gloves and other arctic-weather gear and headed out into deep snow towards my father's trap houses.

He had to learn from absolute zero, never having held a gun before, let alone fired one. I took a good hour just instructing him in stance and basic handling techniques but he was a very quick study and seemed to take to it immediately.

I had called our gameskeeper, who also functioned as our trap man, and by the time we were ready to start shooting targets he had arrived and gotten the trap house ready. We started with a simple down-the-line set in which we stood behind the trap house and the clay pigeons were sent out away from us. I demonstrated the technique for Milliard and then had him try it. He missed every one. Putting his gun down he stared at where the clays had been shot and sighed. I thought he was discouraged and tried to provide encouragement. "Don't mind it - every beginner has to go through this kind of thing."

He held up his hand to stop me, though, and said, "I'm not giving up, Treize. I'm thinking about what I did wrong so I can do better next time."

I didn't know it then, but that was to become his motto from that point on.

We had practiced for a couple of hours and were frozen solid by the time we got back to the house. I recommended baths for the both of us, as hot as we could stand them and Milliard didn't balk.

Now I was stretched out on the large day bed in my sitting room, with the sun streaming in the windows, a fire in the hearth, and a good book to read. I luxuriated in pure comfort for an hour, by turns reading and dozing, until a small knock came at the door.

I gave permission to the visitor to enter and was delighted to see Milliard, freshly bathed and dressed, peek around the edge of the door. "I... that is... I wondered if you would mind if I did my reading in here... with you."

I thought for a moment. Over the last two days, being with him had become as natural as breathing. I had just spent two hours with him at the trap field, yet the thought of having him here seemed only logical. I did a scan forward of the day in my mind and realized that what I wanted was to be with him, like this, until he left the next day. It was a very surprising thing to realize, I'd never felt that way about anyone, not even my parents. But I reminded myself that after the first of the year I was very likely to go into Space, probably L3 colony if anywhere, and that it could be quite awhile before I saw my young friend again. And that decided me. I would take all of him that I could and savor every moment that he gave me.

I gestured him over and he lay on his belly right next to me on the day bed, propped on his forearms, two books in his hands. It felt so perfect, having him that close and feeling him all along the length of me. I put my head back on the pillows and just watched him as he opened one of his books and began reading. The sunlight touched his hair and turned it to pale gold fire and made his cool, blue eyes luminous whenever he looked up at me.

I lasted about 40 minutes and then had to have more of him, so I scooped up his book, right out of his hand and tossed it over the back of the day bed. Crossing my arms against his look of open-mouthed surprise, I smiled down at him and said, "Let's play a game, shall we?"

He scrambled up to a kneeling position and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "What kind of game?" he asked.

"Oh, one of my absolute favorites. It's called 'Truth or Dare.'"

A classic Milliard frown. "I've never heard of that one."

"Haven't you? Oh, but it's wonderful! You see we take turns asking each other, 'Truth or Dare?' and if the person chooses 'truth', then you can ask him whatever you like and he has to tell you the absolute truth."

"And if he chooses 'dare'? What then?"

"Well, *then* you get to ask him to do whatever you want him to do - and he has to do it."

Milliard's face flushed a very pretty color of pink as he asked, "Anything?"

I smiled back at him. "Anything. You go first - ask me."

He studied me, eyes full of doubt, but said, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," I replied.

There was a brief pause and then, "Are you afraid of dying when you go to Space?"

It wasn't what I expected, but I thought for a moment and answered. "Yes. I am a bit. It's easier to die up there because you don't get to make as many mistakes. But I still want to go. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

I smiled at him, narrowed my eyes and ordered, "Go and get something from Cousin Charlotte's room. The more personal the item, the better."

His eyes widened and he looked as if he would protest, but I raised an eyebrow and he went off. He was gone quite a long time and I began to worry that I'd overdone it when he ran into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He turned and leaned against the door, breathing heavily. His cheeks were burning red and he kept his head down, not able to look at me. I felt terrible and sat up, ready to tell him that whatever had happened I could straighten it out. That's when he held them up, pinched in between his thumb and forefinger. Cream-colored, of moderate size, with lace at the edges. Milliard Peacecraft was holding a pair of my cousin Charlotte's underpants.

I did everything I could to suppress a laugh. "Oh. Milliard. How *did* you get ahold of those?"

He looked up at me bewildered. "How? Well, I *asked* her for them, of course. How else would I have gotten them?"

Blinking several times in utter shock I managed to get out, "Y-you... *asked* her for them, Milliard?"

"Well, yes. She was in her room. I didn't feel that I could just take something without asking her permission. So I said I wanted something of hers and that I wanted it to be personal. And... and she started acting very strangely, indeed, Treize!" He was looking up at me now with a slightly disapproving face. "She got all giddy all of a sudden and then started rummaging through her bureau and pulled out these... Said wasn't I a little rascal then and chucked me under the chin. All in all it was very embarrassing." He walked over to me and thrust the offending article at me saying, "So I hope these are personal enough!"

I waved my hands in front of me, backing away a bit from those formidable undergarments, and pleaded for mercy. "Yes, yes, Milliard - that's... definitely personal enough... just... put them on the dresser there, won't you. We can return them to her later... please..."

He deposited the underpants and settled back on the couch asking, "Truth or Dare?"

I smiled slowly. It was only fair, after all. "Dare."

He ducked his head for a moment, his eyes lost in wispy gold bangs, and then looked me in the eyes and said, "Kiss me."

I have to say at that moment that a part of me was completely shocked. I knew that Milliard was more interested in romantic love than he thought himself to be but this was even sooner than *I'd* predicted.

Another part of me, though, was feeling a strange sense of excitement. Here he was, beautiful, golden Milliard, giving me permission... I leaned close to him and I could see his eyes widen, could almost hear his heart pounding. I kept my eyes on his as I moved in and just as I got close to those soft lips, I moved upwards and kissed him very gently on his forehead.

I heard a small, wondering sound come from him and felt very virtuous, if entirely frustrated. Surely I had won a victory over my urges and desires, unfullfilling as it felt, and surely that was the best thing to do. I was just about to move away from him when he lifted his head up and pressed his lips against mine.

Time fell away from me then. I had spent so many nights wondering what it would feel like and now it was here and it felt better than I'd ever imagined. I was already lost in it when he broke away after a few seconds. I opened my eyes slowly, feeling deliciously disoriented, to find him studying my face from a few inches away. I used every bit of will I had to stop myself from reaching for him.

He sat back on the day bed, staring at me - a little dazed, and raised slender fingers to his lips. His voice, when he found it, was trembling and a little hoarse. "I... I didn't expect it... to feel like that..."

I moved closer to him, our eyes locked, and I replaced his fingers with my own, brushing them over his lips and cheeks. "It never feels quite like we expect it to," I whispered. "It's better, or worse, or... just different somehow. How *did* it feel, Milliard?"

"Good," he whispered back, ice blue eyes full of doubt and desire. "Good but... overwhelming... like something I'm not ready for..." He shook his golden head as he stared at me. "I'm not ready for that!" he whispered passionately. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't be , Milliard. That's a good thing to know about yourself... and a good thing for me to know, too."

He launched himself into my arms then, hugging me and burying his face in my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tightly. /I'll wait for you, Milliard... it will be frustrating as hell, but I'll wait./ "Oh Milliard... I love you."

I felt his lips move against my neck. "I love you, too, Treize."

26 December

We stood on the gravel drive in bitter cold weather. The thought of saying goodbye to my little friend was tearing me apart inside, but that I couldn't show to anyone, not even him. "May I write to you, Milliard? Will you write me back?"

He nodded solemnly. "I'm a very faithful correspondent," he said in a serious voice.

I had to laugh then - he was just too dignified for his own good.

I cupped his chin in my hand, not caring if the driver was looking, and said softly, "Promise me, my Prince, that you won't fall in love with any other knights while I'm away."

He smiled up at me, a last, radiant, golden smile that I memorized and stored away for a time I wouldn't be with him. "I promise," he said simply.

I watched the car pull away, and ached as it took my heart and soul along with it. "Milliard," I whispered as it disappeared around the curve in the drive. "Wait for me. I'll surely be waiting for you."

owari

(:./kumiko/bblood5)