By the way, the damned spell check gave me the wrong spelling for Luxembourg (chapter 3). I was too lazy to look up whether it was correct or not, so…evil spell check, but my fault in the end for not verifying what it gave me. Like I said, I’m a freak about spellings, so this is really bothering me. Grr…
Disclaimer: GW…not mine…
Quatre had opted wisely to leave Lucrezia to herself when she came back on the verge of tears. He didn’t ask what had happened, and when she stormed through the store and straight upstairs, he let her. He closed up by himself and then went to her room, knocking softly at her door. “Lu,” he called. “Can I come in?” No answer. With a glum sigh, he turned and went to his room. He hoped she didn’t hate him for putting her in the position he did…more importantly, he hoped that the Prince hadn’t done anything to hurt her.
* * *
With every day that passed, Lucrezia became more unlike the lively girl Quatre had met. She carried out each day like a chore, monotonously and dispassionately. Outwardly, she appeared much the same, but there were little things, like her laughter, that showed her unhappiness. Quatre often caught her at the window, gazing at the palace with a painfully wistful look in her eyes.
It had been a month since that day the Prince came, and he hadn’t come back. Quatre felt nothing but compassion for his friend. He was pretty sure he knew what had happened. Lu was in love with the Prince, who was either toying with her or using her to get back at someone else. Poor girl, to have fallen for a prince.
Lucrezia was wrapping a gift purchase for a customer when a short, dour looking woman came in. She strode right up to the counter, eyeing Quatre critically. “Where’s Lucrezia?” she demanded loudly. Upon hearing her name, Lucrezia turned and immediately turned pale. She hastily finished what she was doing and stalked to where Quatre and the woman stood.
“What are you doing here?” she questioned, obviously upset. The woman narrowed her eyes disdainfully.
“Is that how you greet your mother? I see you haven’t changed. Still selfish and no good!” The woman’s voice was growing steadily louder.
Lucrezia flushed with anger. “Look, if you must speak with me, we’ll do so in the back. I’ll not have you upsetting business.” The older woman only looked more enraged, but followed Lucrezia to the back storage room anyhow.
Quatre glanced back uneasily before a young girl asked for assistance.
*
“Now, what do you want?” Lucrezia asked callously, her arms crossed over her chest.
Her mother snorted. “I should have known that this trip would be a waste. Why would a wretch like you care that your father is dead?”
Lucrezia’s eyes hardened. “Am I supposed to mourn for your husband, who never once treated me like a daughter?”
“Damn you! I come all this way and you don’t even care! I knew it,” she growled.
Lucrezia rolled her eyes. “If you knew that I wouldn’t give a damn, the why did you come? Go home, Mother.”
“You bitch! I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance, just like your moth –" she stopped short, the blood draining from her face.
“What do you mean by that!” Lucrezia cried. Her mother only remained impassively silent. “Answer me!”
At seeing Lucrezia’s composure crumble, her mother pursed her lips. “It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “I came hoping that against all reason, you’d at least care! I hope I never see you again, Lucrezia,” she spat her name and whirled around.
“Wait, you can’t just…” she broke off, sobbing. The old woman turned around one last time.
“Whatever happened doesn’t matter; you’re still nobody.” Smirking, she left.
Lucrezia was alone in the room. Crying, she sat on the floor, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around her legs. Why did she have to come back? Just when she was starting to make a life for herself and build a new life…she had to come and destroy it. The old hag still had power over Lucrezia. And then there was the comment she had begun to say…Lucrezia’s head spun when she remembered the hateful way in which she said it. Gotten rid of her? Just like her…mother? Was that what she had meant to say? It didn’t make any sense. She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head violently. Why was this happening! Would she never be allowed to be happy?
Minutes passed and she all she could do was cry, painful sobs shaking her whole body. So immersed in her misery was she, that the footsteps coming toward her went unnoticed. Someone was gathering her in their arms, rubbing her back soothingly, and the familiar scent of pine was oddly calming. She blindly wrapped her arms around Milliardo’s neck as he picked her up gently. At Quatre’s insistence, he carried her to her room.
“I thought you were never coming back,” she mumbled into his chest, refusing to let go when he set her down on her bed. He sat at the edge and continued holding her tightly. After a moment, the tightness in her throat returned and more tears ran down her cheeks.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t cry, love.”
His tender words and deep voice calmed her right away. “Why did you come?” she asked, her voice breaking. He didn’t answer her. “Milliardo –”
He let her go abruptly. She looked up at him, confused. “Are you comfortable enough to talk?” He was concerned she might lose her composure again if he started asking her what had happened. When she nodded calmly, he continued, “Alright, tell me what happened.”
Quietly, she told him the whole thing, holding tightly to his hands to keep from crying in frustration. “How did you know to come?” she asked, looking into his eyes. They were always unreadable, sometimes showing a hint of sadness or warmth, but never did they reveal his real emotions.
He smiled. “I don’t know…I don’t often wander the streets, too risky. But…I just had to come here.” Frustrated at his inability to give her a proper explanation, he laughed awkwardly. “Would you believe that I was just dying to see you?”
“No,” she replied stubbornly, more to be contrary than because she actually believed it. She wiped at her eyes with her blanket, feeling completely at ease in his presence. He took the blanket out of her hands and, tilting her chin up, kissed her tenderly. Hesitantly, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. A knock at the door sent Lucrezia flying out of Milliardo’s arms and under her covers. “Who is it?” she asked, irritation plainly evident in her voice.
The door opened and Trowa poked a head in. “May I come in?”
“Of course, Trowa,” she said, trying to take back the harshness of her earlier words. Lucrezia glanced uneasily at Milliardo as he stood, brushing imaginary lint off his cloak nervously. “Where are you going?” Her voice held a note of fear; she didn’t want him to leave her again.
“It’s getting late, Lucrezia, and…I should be getting back.” The agony in her eyes was almost his undoing. She took his hand in hers and pulled him back.
“Don’t go, please?” she pleaded faintly, clutching at his hand tightly.
“I have to, Lucrezia.” He bent and kissed her swiftly before pulling his hand away and walking out the door.
She stared after him, and caught Trowa’s inquisitive glance. He had an eyebrow raised, a corner of his mouth raised in an almost smile. “I was coming up here to cheer you up, but I guess that’s already been done.”
Blushing furiously, Lucrezia cleared her throat and left her bed. “It’s not what you think. He’s just –”
“He’s Prince Milliardo Peacecraft,” Trowa interrupted. The boy was something of a self-taught scholar and was one of the few citizens granted access to the Royal Library. No doubt he’d seen the Prince before. “I won’t ask what he was doing here or how you met. But I do want to tell you to be careful, please. If you two were ever caught, you’d be the one to blame for it.” Trowa’s voice was always emotionless, but Lucrezia heard concern in his tone.
“I know,” she whispered, staring down at her hands. Trowa went to her window overlooking the street and the shops. He watched the Prince’s retreating form. There was something in the manner in which he carried himself that singled him out. It wasn’t really noticeable, unless one was looking for it, but it was still there.
Trowa frowned. “He should be more cautious,” he said flatly. “There’s always someone wanting royalty dead.” He turned back to Lucrezia, his expression softening. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”
She attempted a weak smile. “I promise, Trowa.”
* * *
As Milliardo entered the palace, the hallway guards regarded him with pity. It was the same look they gave him when he was a little boy and was in trouble. He tried to ignore the looks as he searched for Pagan. Upon sighting the Prince, the old butler’s eyes widened.
“Your Highness, your mother is waiting for you in the parlor. Did you forget that Princess Anna and her sister were expecting you to join them for tea this afternoon? Where were you?” he questioned as he took Milliardo’s cloak. The old man had been close to Milliardo his whole life, and was one of the few people who could exert authority over the Prince.
Milliardo went pale. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Mother’ll throw a fit. Thank you Pagan,” he said, heading straight for the parlor. He abhorred his mother’s attempts to try to make him fall in love with Anna. Remembering his earlier conversation with his father, he realized guiltily that the Queen was once in the same position as Anna, marrying a man she didn’t know or love. Since Anna and Isabelle had come to stay at the palace, Katarina had gone out of her way to make them feel at home. Sometimes he wondered if the sisters didn’t feel overwhelmed by the over attention. Cautiously, he peeked in to survey the scene before making his entrance. His mother sat in her usual cushioned high-back armchair, chatting with the Princesses Anna and Isabelle. Anna looked politely interested while Isabelle appeared outright bored. Running his fingers through his hair hastily, he cleared his throat and entered. “Good evening Mother, ladies. I apologize for not being here to receive you properly.” He leaned to kiss his mother’s cheek and then settled into a chair beside Isabelle.
The Queen managed a tight smile. “Well, darling, I’m so glad you could join us. What was it that kept you?” she asked, seemingly innocent. The subtle stress in her voice guaranteed there’d be hell to pay later for not playing the perfect host he was expected to be.
“I was…helping a friend out,” he replied vaguely. It didn’t really matter what he told her. He could say the entire world was at the palace gates with their armies and she’d still expect him to be on time. The Queen rolled her eyes.
“I must say, Milliardo, that I was very disappointed. There are preparations to make. Your wedding…oh, how time goes by so quickly. I was just telling Anna that autumn is perfect for a wedding. It’s a bit too early for details, though. I think, though, that it…” the Queen turned to her son, who was absently tracing the fabric of his chair’s upholstery with hid finger. “Dear, are you listening?” she asked sweetly, acutely embarrassed at her son’s inattention.
“Yes, Mother, I’m listening,” he replied, somewhat carelessly. Katarina’s face went slightly red before she could compose herself.
“Well,” she said briskly. “I should have realized that wedding details would bore you. I’m sure your father has something for you to do.” That was his cue to get the hell out, now. She would have to speak to her husband about this. Such behavior from Milliardo was absolutely inexcusable. It would be ridiculous to reprimand him in front of guests, his fiancée and her sister, no less.
Anna watched with an impassive air as Milliardo sullenly excuse himself and left the room. There was something troubling him; that much was obvious. She was very good at reading people, but she found that she couldn’t get anything other than vague impressions of his emotions. She’d have to work on that. For the moment, however, she had to act the part of the dainty princess. The part that seemed much better suited to her sister, who was becoming more of the spoiled princess with every passing day. The girl was too young to care for such matters at marriage, even though her best friend, Relena was already engaged, but it would do her well to listen in and learn to be ‘proper’, as that was unfortunately the destiny of a princess.
*
Milliardo honestly hadn’t meant to upset his mother, but she had said it herself, wedding plans were woman things. He was quite content to have to do nothing but show up the day of and get it over with. His nuptials were the last thing on his mind. It was anger that was racing through his mind, anger at a mother who would verbally abuse her daughter in such a way as Lucrezia’s did. He was still seething at that monster of a woman. Whatever she had said had sent the girl into hysterics. He was still unsure as to what possessed him to go see her when he did, but he was glad that he did. It had been a month since the day he first kissed her and she forgave him. He smiled ruefully. Things had certainly progressed from that night he watched her bathe.
His bedroom was too large and too warm tonight. He lay in bed, intending to sleep. Groaning, he got out of bed and stepped out onto his balcony. It was freezing, as would be expected of a late winters night, but it was refreshing nonetheless. The small balcony faced away from the city like most of the private rooms, giving instead a magnificent view of the mountainous forests. Snaking through the trees glittered the river, winding south to meet with the ocean. The moon shone brightly and from its position in the sky, Milliardo could see it was well past midnight. He really should be going to sleep. There were too many things to do and his father had gotten stricter about his son spending so much time in the forests and the city. If the King had had everything his way, Milliardo would be out of the country most of the time, meeting every foreign leader, on a goodwill tour of the world.
Sufficiently frozen, Milliardo rushed back into his bedroom. He tried lying back down, but only succeeded in driving his thoughts back to Lucrezia. And once again, he was up and pacing the floor. He finally decided to just physically exhaust himself. He had set up a metal bar in the doorframe to his closet when he was thirteen; the pull-ups he did there always released the pent up energy and stress he needed to occasionally set free.
By the time his arms failed him and he slipped to the floor, his body was covered in sweat and he was gasping for breath. He felt considerably better and after a quick shower, he could finally get some sleep. He stripped off his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. The knock at the door stopped him from undressing farther.
Frowning, Milliardo went to the door. It was late; whoever was bothering him in the middle of the night had better have a good reason. To his immense surprise and chagrin, the Princess Isabelle stood at the door, tightly wrapped in her dressing robe.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Milliardo hissed, poking his head out the door to check for any guards. Catching the young girl at the Prince’s door in the middle of the night would naturally be his fault and he really didn’t want to have to explain anything. He ushered her inside for the moment, against his better judgment. “What are you doing here so late at night?” he asked again, calmer, but with more insistence.
The girl pouted slightly. “I just wanted to see you, Milliardo,” she purred, placing her hands on his bare chest and looking up at him charmingly. “You know, it really isn’t fair that Anna’s the older one…”
This was so not the time to have his fiancées little sister trying to seduce him. Quickly, he removed her hands and led her back to the door. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Isabelle, but I suggest you go back to your room. Now,” he said, preparing to all but throw her out.
She whirled around to face him, furious. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?” she cried. Milliardo took a couple of steps back, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“Look, I don’t want to have to drag you back,” he said, opening the door for her. “But if you don’t go, I will.”
Her eyes immediately filled with tears, narrowing spitefully. “Fine then! You’ll regret this, Your Highness!” She ran down the hall before he could do anything.
Shaking his head, Milliardo rubbed at his eyes tiredly. That was completely unexpected and uncalled for. Where did this little girl get off coming to his chambers in the middle of the night to try to be cute? The way she had spat his name and threatened him was unsettling. He never thought that sweet Princess Isabelle could be so forward. The last time he had seen her, she was ten years old and the shining example of an adorable proper little girl.
The matter of the wayward princess left his mind as he took his shower and finally crawled into bed; he was exhausted.
* * *
“Really, Ethan, it’s as if he was six years old again and having to get Pagan to chase him through the grounds. Except we can’t chase him out there,” she finished, gesturing toward the city. Upon finding her son missing again, she marched into her husband’s study and demanded the King do something about it.
“Katarina, how old is Milliardo?” Ethan asked her calmly.
“He’s twenty,” she answered and in that instant realized why the King was so opposed to her idea for house arrest. Reciting Milliardo’s age aloud made her aware that she was trying to control a grown man. And what grown man would let their mother control them? “I’m sorry, I just can’t help worrying. Don’t you worry, Ethan?”
The King smiled. “All the time, love. But you have to let go, he can take care of himself.”
Sighing, Katarina convinced herself that her husband was right. He had learned hand-to-hand combat from the finest and had won the international fencing competition every year since he was fourteen. “I just…keep thinking about what happened to King Antonio in Roma. To come home and find his wife dead, daughter missing, and no one has a clue as to who did it.”
“Let it go, Kit. I know that you were close to Lina, but I think her death still upsets you too much. You’re liable to send the whole Imperial Guard after Milliardo now,” he chuckled.
His wife shot him a disapproving glance. “I will do no such thing. I just mourn Lina and her daughter…poor little Lucy. She’s probably dead --”
“Come now, stop this.” Ethan stood and led his wife out the door. “That happened almost twenty years ago. Stop thinking about it.”
But Katarina couldn’t stop thinking about it. She remembered how Roma had flourished twenty years ago. Now, the city could barely support itself. She couldn’t imagine herself living if a tragedy like that happened to her. Yes, she supposed she was overprotective and domineering, but she was also sure that Milliardo and Relena knew that she did it only out of love, no matter how impossible she might seem. She only wished Milliardo would stay put.
* * *
“Does that conclude today’s business?” King Peacecraft was anxious to finish this Foreign Affairs council meeting and get a few rounds of archery in with his son. The realization that the two rarely spent time together coupled with the Queen’s worries about their son prompted the King to begin interacting more often with Milliardo. Unfortunately, Foreign Minister Lawrence nodded, indicating he had more to say. Groaning inwardly, Ethan waved his hand for the man to proceed. They might be there all night now.
“Your Highness, there’s also the matter of Roma. King Antonio wants to arrange for trade talks. The state of the country is deteriorating.” The man paused, waiting on the King’s initial reaction.
Ethan nodded thoughtfully. Cinq and Roma had been allies for a long time, and Ethan and Antonio had been close friends since they were children. Since the death of his wife, the Duke had politely declined all offers of military or financial aid for his country. The place had started going to hell when he began receiving all kinds of little girls claiming to be his lost daughter. The King had broken then, leaving the ruling of his country to crooked advisors and unscrupulous foreign dignitaries. “What brought him around?” he asked.
“Actually, Sire, it’s a matter of his daughter. A woman came last week claiming to be a former handmaiden. She proved herself by recalling many facts about Queen Lina that only someone close to her would know. Then she… confessed to killing the Queen and the Princess. The King was going to have her executed, but they found her in her cell the next day. She had hung herself. No one knows who she is or why she decided to confess, or even her name.”
“And so the King woke up finally and saw the ruin his country had come to,” Ethan concluded.
“So it appears, Your Majesty.”
Standing, the King ordered for talks to begin immediately with Roma and then he excused himself, his son was waiting.
Ethan brewed over the problem of the King and his country until he reached the archery field, where Milliardo was waiting for him. He put the matter aside and grabbed his bow and, smiling at the enthusiasm on Milliardo’s face. “What you say you let me win this time, son?” he joked. Ethan was by no means an old man, but he could no longer compete with Milliardo, and continued his favorite hobby only for leisure.
“I don’t think so,” Milliardo replied, grinning, getting into position. He aimed and shot, hitting the bulls-eye. As usual.
* * *
It had been nearly impossible to sneak away from Anna. But finally, Isabelle had, with the help of a particularly gullible stable boy. A few soft, feminine giggles and a peck on the cheek later, Isabelle was on a horse and after Milliardo. After listening to Queen Katarina complain endlessly about her son’s outings into the real world, Isabelle just had to see where he went to all the time. She had to have her fun somehow. Who knew, she might end up with an interesting bit of information to hold over the Prince’s head. For once, she might have the upper hand over someone.
No one could possibly understand what it was like having to live with an overbearing father, an idiot mother, and a bitch of a sister. Growing up, Isabelle had always envied Relena’s relationship with her brother, the carefree way they talked and laughed and the way Relena confided completely in him. Anna was never like that. As long as Isabelle could remember, Anna was consumed with becoming an intellectual. She had a sneaking suspicion it was due to the numerous visits from the handsome Treize Khushrenada, who often visited Luxembourg, his home country. Isabelle never cared to find out details, but after one visit, Treize never came back. And that’s when Anna changed. She was always quiet and reserved, but then she became cold and unemotional. In her zeal to impress Treize, as was Isabelle’s assumption, she had lost her soul somewhere along the way. But she succeeded in becoming brilliant, sharp, and heartless.
From what Isabelle already knew of the adult world of politics, it wouldn’t do Anna much good to be able to speak intelligently. She’d still ended up the wife of some foreign royal, married off for political purpose and not for love. She knew that hurt her sister more than anything in the world, but no man, except a rare case like Prince Milliardo, appreciated a brain on a woman. Isabelle snorted derisively. Her father’s council members had argued for years on whether they should allow Anna to sit in on council meetings. Most concurred that the girl and a lot of sense and a lot more to say. At the same time, she was a woman and that was enough to cancel out any sense she had, so her older sister was only allowed to be part of the council once. And that had been to arrange documentation details for her marriage. The girl knew already that the world was unfair and backward, but she also knew that one must play to the system. Yes, she would play the part of the perfect little princess. But she would also use her powers as a woman to get exactly what she wanted. That hadn’t quite worked with Milliardo the other night. But she still had ways.
Outside the gates, Isabelle had little trouble spotting Milliardo heading toward a riding trail that ran through the woods outside the palace. She gave him ample time to get ahead, without losing sight of him. From her distance, he wouldn’t be able to hear her horse and if he turned, she’d just appear a shadow in the trees. She grinned in delight. Spying on the Cinq prince…She would be severely reprimanded if caught, but she decided that in this case, the benefits outweighed the risks. Suppose she caught Milliardo doing something illegal. She grinned maliciously, wondering what she’d ask for her silence…
*
The horse flew through the field, his rider’s long hair waving behind them. Milliardo didn’t often go wandering through the woods at night. He had gotten tired of the pull-ups, the archery, and there was no one skillful enough to be a challenge to him in fencing, except Anna, who was already asleep. He was restless and felt the need to fly. The closest he could come was riding as fast as his horse would go. He raced through the large fields just behind the palace and into the forests. When the horse tired, they walked along the river. Milliardo already knew where he was going. He had been going to that spot since he was twelve. A little bank canopied by huge trees made the perfect spot to reflect, sulk, or take a nap. It was his sanctuary. It was also where he had met Lucrezia.
He stopped short when he saw someone already at his tree. The figure sat with their knees draw up, gazing solemnly at the river. He came a little closer and the person jumped, startled. He smiled when he recognized Lucrezia. “You stole my spot,” he mused as he covered the distance between them and dismounted.
Her eyes grew wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously, though she looked as if she were quite content for him to be there.
“Hmm…well, this is my hideaway. I come here often. What are you doing here?” he responded, taking a seat beside her.
There was sadness in her voice as she spoke, “Just…enjoying the river.” He wondered if she realized that those were the same words he said to her when they first met.
“I see,” he murmured, turning to watch the moon shine off the water’s surface. The two sat in companionable silence for a long while, simply taking pleasure in the nature around them and each other. Milliardo leaned against the tree and smiled as Lucrezia let her head rest on his shoulder.
“It’s peaceful here,” she said quietly. “I can see why you’d come here all the time.”
It was so peaceful, in fact, that Milliardo suddenly felt sleepy. He mumbled an agreement incoherently and yawned. “It’s a good place to think,” he said, trying to shake off his fatigue.
She asked him what he thought about when he came, wanting to hear more of his soft, deep voice. He told her about imagining a life as anything but a prince, about traveling the world without an entourage, and about marrying someone he loved. “I don’t get a choice on such a matter,” he noted quietly.
“And what if you did?” Her question took him by surprise, and he found himself not wanting to answer it. Especially given his reply had he answered truthfully.
“I try not to think about it.” He settled for a vague, clumsy response, avoiding giving her a straight answer as well as subtly steering the conversation to something else. “There’s nothing I can do about it, anyhow,” he mumbled as an afterthought. Lucrezia sighed beside him and nothing more was said for a long time.
The loud crunch of several twigs cracking roused the two. Milliardo was on his feet with his sword half drawn, staring into the dense wood. All was still; it must have been some animal. He sheathed his sword and looked over at Lucrezia, who was glancing uncertainly at him. “Nothing,” he reported, shrugging his shoulders. He called for his horse and extended a hand to Lucrezia.
“Will you let me take you home this time?” he asked affably.
The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she tried not to smile. She let him help her onto his horse, warning him that she had never ridden one before. He solemnly promised not to let her fall and then took off at breakneck speed. Lucrezia cried out and then, when had he slowed down, smacked his arm. He only laughed at her.
*
Groaning in frustration, Isabelle crawled out of that mangled mess of a wood. Spying was not as easy as she thought it would be. She had tried to slink behind a tree a few feet from where Milliardo sat with that woman, but hadn’t watched carefully enough where she was going. He would have seen her if she hadn’t thrown herself behind a thick patch of shrubbery. By the time they were gone, she was covered in vines, leaves, and dirt. Vaguely, she wondered how she would explain her rumpled, dirty dress. But that was the least of her concerns. She would never have thought, in a million years, that she’d catch Milliardo with another woman, and a commoner at that. She almost felt sorry for Anna, for her having to marry someone who was obviously two-timing her. Unfaithful and he wasn’t even married yet.
Oh, she was going to have fun with this one.
~~~
Author’s Notes/Comments/Rants: Ack! Okay…so yeah, I’ve been doing an insane amount of wallowing in self-pity… I just read Aerika S.’s Escaflowne fic The Secret Life of a Girl. If you do Esca fics, I highly recommend it!! Anyway, it was just so good…