[GW] Bloody Little Children Bloody Little Children by cozzybob
Pairs: Marquise Weridge, Relena and Une. That's gen you hentais.
Warning: Canon with slight AU. Takes place during episode 11: The Destiny of Happiness, ie: word-for-word spoilers like mad. Murder, death, angst. Bit dark. Relena with a gun. ;)
Note: For meritjubet in the name of Christmas. Inspired after a conversation on LJ, Merit declared she always wanted a fic where things happened just a little bit differently during this specific episode... I had to agree, and the bunny attacked. This was her idea, not mine, and the creativity belongs to her. I love you, Merit! Thanks for the endless inspiration and everything you do for me, you totally rock my socks. I have never met a more open-minded individual, and I hope you continue to do what you do, because the world needs more of you. *loves* I can't thank you enough. Honestly.
Summary: Instead of shooting the rose, Relena shot its thorn.
'08: I love this fic. Love, love, love. Now if only I could ever get around to that damned sequel...
When I first laid my old eyes upon her, I thought she was Katrina. It was the way that she carried herself, voice low and proper, hair down in long tresses, shoulders straight, posture perfect, steps even... perfect and the very imitation of delicacy, yet her eyes were the fuel that burned hell fire, and the invisible smoke that rose from it lingered around her like an aura, overpowering. She could have been a queen if her kingdom had not been stolen from her, much like the way my son has been stolen from me. The anger I feel in such a thought rests deep, like a rock at the bottom of my stomach, but I swallow the dark memories down, remembering, this is my granddaughter, and I have not seen her in such a long time... All things considered, she should be dead, and shouldn't I be more grateful?
The guard at the door is giving her a hard time because she does not have an invitation. I arrive at the tail-end of his argument, and he turns to me. I must have said a name, because he asks, "Then, do you know the host?"
"Relena," I cry, smiling broadly. "Glad you could make it!"
The guard squirms uncomfortably, hands raised in apology. "Marquise Weridge! I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know the lady was your guest."
I nod, still eyeing her in that pretty white dress, her hair perfectly groomed, her eyes sparkling with honest thanks. She is my granddaughter, and she looks exactly like her mother... adopted or not, I couldn't be more happy to see that Lady Une's attack on my son did not kill her as well. These thoughts force the dark memories to return again, but I wave a hand, shaking my head. "That's alright. Shall we go inside, Relena? The party's about to start."
I take her hand--she has such a strong, confident grip--and we enter the hall together. Several turn their heads curiously, and Relena looks away, uncomfortable. I smile at her fondly--the young are always so quick to run from the elderly. "Don't be embarrassed," I tell her. "This establishment is for elderly people like myself, and a young, beautiful lady like you naturally draws everyone's attention."
The old bats flocked us, skeleton hands wrapped in stretched skin grasping out to touch her beautiful face. "Marquise Weridge, what a charming date you have tonight."
Relena scowls very slightly. "My name is Relena."
Another man dressed like death in wealthy garb extends a hand eagerly, hungry for young blood. His name is Jacob Brown, and he is a wealthy pedophile from America here on business in the Romefeller Foundation. He takes Relena's hand very gently, polite, and asks my granddaughter, "May I have a dance with you?"
I pull her away from the bastard. "No, no," I say, warning him with my eyes. "I'm the first in line." I turn to her, smiling gently, bowing for all the rich grandeur I could muster in these old bones. "May I have the honor of tonights first dance with you, if you don't mind?"
Relena becomes slightly confused, but she smiles brilliantly. It is like the sun rising after several months stranded in darkness. "If I don't mind? ...Please, I'd be honored." That smile grows. "I'd be glad to."
Little did I know it, but as I wasted my time dancing with my beautiful granddaughter, there were men in mobile suites standing outside of my establishment, wielding enough firepower to destroy the good part of a city. They surrounded all entrances of the building, and I was trapped inside with my granddaughter, who knew exactly what was going on from the start.
I found myself studying her intensely, the way her eyes rove the hall, searching for something that Lord only knew what at the time. She is deadly serious even as she pretends to be innocent, her grip around my hand hard, her lips pursed with a firm kind of nervousness. Something is going to happen, and she is ready to fight it. I can't help but compare her to her brother. Even before the fall of Sanq, Milliard Peacecraft thrived on battles, ready to fight any man who stood in his way. He had loved his father more than life itself, but the two of them had been destined to disappoint each other.
And how sad, I think, watching her, that she should have to be his replacement when she'd never even known either of them. But even in tragedy, she is perhaps the strongest young lady I have ever met. "You do possess a trace of the Peacecrafts," I say.
She turns to me again, surprised. Her eyes are eager for the knowledge of that name, and I consider perhaps she already knows. My son would have told her before he died, if he ever received the chance...
"Do you know the Peacecrafts?"
"Yes," I confess, "I did." We stop dancing, and Relena holds a chair out for me. I sit down, my bones creaking in relief. "Thank you." She smiles again, slightly, waiting for my story. I sigh because this marks the end of an era. "The monarchs of the old Sanq Kingdom... we were close family friends of the House of Peacecraft, until the Kingdom was destroyed some thirteen years ago."
Relena's eyes widen. "What happened to them?"
I have to look away. It is unbearable that she doesn't know of her own family history, and I curse the Federation filth that did this to her in the first place. I am proud to say that I have never lied to anyone in my family, save for Relena. It always hurt me to lie to her, but now I don't need to anymore. It is a bittersweet feeling.
"It... was an unfortunate tale. There are always those who wish nothing but peace, and those who wish to gain everything from war. The House of Peacecraft was the former, and the World Federation was the later."
Her eyes become so old. I daresay older than mine, but then, she also carries so much anger. "The dove was killed because it disagreed with the hawk."
"These days," I say, hating my own words, "...everyone tries to solve everything with arms." I snarl, fist curled in my lap. "And what is this OZ?" A disgrace to all things good in the world.
"OZ..." Relena is now lost in memory.
At the time, I hardly noticed. I was lost in my own. "I demanded Treize show up tonight so that I could confront him over what he's been doing." He killed my son. "But apparently, he has sent his representative here instead."
Right on time, I add bitterly to myself. The bitch enters my hall, and the music stops playing. Her name, I've been told, is Lady Une, and she wears a red rose on her breast, her bodice encased in the cruel superiority of the military.
Une frowns when the music stops. "What's wrong? Please continue... I am just another guest, Marquise Weridge invited me." She looks at us now, smiling so cold. "I'm a representative of his Excellency Treize. I'd like to say hello to the host."
No one speaks a word, and I scowl darkly, holding tightly to Relena's hand as I move in front to protect her. She is staring at Une with pure hatred in her eyes. "Roses don't go with military suits," I growl. "It's the kind of flower for a sweet lady like you, Relena."
Une approaches, her voice polite. The party very slowly returns to normalcy, the atmosphere hard enough to pierce with bullets. "Marquise Weridge?" Everyone loves to speak my name tonight, but on her lips, I am disgusted. "I'm here representing Treize Kushrenada. My name is Lady Une. May I chat with you for a while?"
I sneer at her. It surprises even me how much courage I had to stand up to a woman like that, but then again, it's surprising what an old man will do when his son is murdered. I am sorry to say that I craved my own revenge. "Before that, if you don't mind, I would like my granddaughter to wear that rose." I point to the disgraced thing on her breast.
Une finally takes the time to look behind me, and she pulls back slightly, appearing surprised and now somewhat... afraid? But only for a moment. The face darkens, teeth gritted as she holds a terrible thought, choking, "Relena Darlian? What are you doing here!?" Her voice is frantic, and I recognize the eyes of a person sliced deep in her own paranoia. I used to know people like her. She is sick in the mind. I am not sorry.
Relena turns to me, voice nothing but cruel mockery. "Grandfather, I wouldn't look good with a red rose either." So much hatred for a child. "No, what would really make me look good is the red of OZ's bloodshed." And to my astonishment, a gun whips into view, gripped in her hands so comfortably, as if she'd been carrying her entire life. I have no idea where it came from or how she'd learned to use it, but she must have had it on her the entire time she was here with me.
She'd planned the entire thing, and it wasn't about my little party after all. She'd... my granddaughter, this beautiful, sweet lady, the heir of Peacecraft and Sanq and the future of this world, had planned to murder Une from the start. My head is shaking, bewildered. Perhaps she is more like her brother than I thought... such foolish, rash children.
The gun is not shaking. I am afraid to admit that Relena is not trembling at all. Eyes of blue steel, she chokes out a terrible cry, safety off, hammer back, trigger pulled. "This is for my father!!"
And I watch as she shoots Lady Une through the rose and into her heart. There is blood, Lady Une falls, and Relena drops the gun with barely any expression, running toward nowhere.
An officer, somewhere in the haze of my shock, curses and fires at her. He misses. She runs...
Une is on the floor, breaths short, choked. Blood is pooled from the corners of her mouth, dripping off her chin, staining the priceless marble-white tile underneath her. She holds her heart, pained eyes caught in both rage and fear. "G-get her," she cries as hard as she can, voice wavering.
But I stand before the men, hands extended outward. She may have committed murder, but she is my granddaughter, and I will not let her die like my son. My eyes are wet, but I stay strong, voice clear despite the trembling of my knees. "Standing in your way is the only thing I have left... this is pale in comparison to that young woman's courage..."
Courage or cowardice? Dear God, Katrina, I am so very sorry. I have failed both of your children, now. Even the children of Peacecrafts are killing in cold blood.
And I think, it was for my son... my son would be so disappointed. I am going to hell.
Une staggers, trying to stand, but she cannot. She falls to her knees again, and coughs up more blood that spatters onto the white tile in a violent red contrast. She is near death, gazing at my silhouette blindly. The way she stares, I know she can no longer see my face. "You people," she utters, hateful, and yet so confused. One of the OZ officers tries to help her, but she shoves him away.
I turn, and everyone from the party, even that bastard Jacob Brown, is standing behind me. I can't help the disappointment. "It looks like everyone supports Relena."
Une waves furiously to the guards still standing pale-faced, in horror. "Go! Go around..." She chokes again, falling. She cannot rise anymore. "...Go around the hall. G-get her..." They stare.
She snarls, fighting with the last bit of energy she has left. "Go, you idiots! Go!!"
One man stays to tend to Une, the others leave to follow their dying colonel's request. I can only stare as the rose falls from her breast, petals stained in blood.
I have no words.
--Fini
A/N: All the dialogue was taken from the translated episode scripts found on gundamwing.net. Even the dialogue after Une is shot is relatively the same, with only minor changes. And no, in the real episode, Relena does not shoot Une, she shoots the rose off Lady Une's lapel instead. Scary how big of a difference that little detail makes, eh? Merit's idea.
Also, I'm not entirely sure if it was ever mentioned officially just how Weridge is her grandfather, I just know that somehow, he is. There are theories that he is the father of Relena's and Zechs' real mother, the Queen of Sanq, but the dailogue from this episode suggests different, ie: "...we were close family friends of the House of Peacecraft." If Weridge had been Relena's grandfather through the Peacecrafts, he wouldn't have worded it like that. At least I don't think so, but then I am depending on scripts, so you never really know. My own theory is that he is her grandfather through the Darlians, and Mrs. Darlian is his daughter. Mr. Darlian is his son through marriage--I know he never suggested this in the actual fic, repeating "my son" specifically, but exploring Weridge's character, he seems like a very compassionate man, and he would have taken Darlian's death as if Darlian were his own. It didn't feel right, referring to Darlian as a son-in-law from Weridge's POV, especially given the time period and circumstances. Hope I didn't confuse anyone! *mad huggles*