cozzybob (cozzybob) wrote in cozzybabbles, @ 2008-02-25 02:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | darlian, pagan, pagan for hire, treize, zechs |
Pagan For Hire 4
Pagan For Hire 4
by cozzybob
Pair: Pagan, General Kushrenada, Zechs, Treize
Warning: reference to death, some angst? Beware of the urber cute Treize, maybe.
Note: Fourth in the continuing Pagan For Hire series, written for Pagan month at gw_ozzies.
Summary: Pagan delivers the traumatized Milliard to the Kushrenada estate as promised in the wake of Sanq's destruction.
The bitter winters of Germany stood in stark contrast to the hellfire that had burned down Pagan's life, and Sanq down with it. Bundled up heavily under his arm was a blind prince Milliard, looking quite apprehensive, but somehow relieved at the same time. He had spoken no words since leaving Sanq and his sister behind, but Pagan could see it in his body language. Milliard wanted to be here.
The old man could still remember that whisper in the back of the ambulance truck, brushed against Relena's ear.
Treize will make me better.
Pagan wondered.
From what he'd learned with Darlian, Kushrenada was a general in the Alliance, and his son was a born prodigy on the path to follow him. The general was an old acquaintance of the King's, often making visits to the palace with his son, wherein the two adults argued and debated and learned from each other while their children played together in the gardens and learned what their fathers learned. It had been uncanny in the height of Milliardo the First's reign, when he'd announced the theories of Total Pacifism--a general such as Kushrenada, a man of war, to be allowed into the Sanq palace? How rumors flew.
Of course, they were about to start another kind of rumor, the biggest in history... but Pagan would only realize it until far too late. He walked the long winding snow-covered path to the mansion, gently guiding Milliard the entire way. They'd had some time to develop a system between the two of them, the blind prince's odd trust in Pagan touching after everything the boy had been through. It had shown that whatever innocence he might have lost, he was still hardly six years of age, and still very much a child.
When they finally reached the door, Milliard was bouncing absently on the balls of his feet, the only indication of his eagerness. Pagan rung the bell and it was immediately answered by a butler, who took their coats and led them into a small sitting area. The man gave no glance to the young prince or the bandage over his eyes, so either he had been warned of the guest's situation, or he was too well trained for Pagan's liking. Pagan had no problem with butlers, the idea of ever being one actually intrigued him, but when you got to be your own kind of soldier... he didn't see keeping house as an excuse for a posture that perfect or hair that well kept. If he wanted military precision, he would have joined the military.
But his thoughts were interrupted when a ten year old whirlwind of brown hair and dark eyes raced passed Pagan and grabbed onto Milliard, who was sitting in the chair Pagan had carefully guided him to. The butler lifted a crude eyebrow at the new boy, but left without a word.
Milliard had jerked harshly when the sudden hands touched him, but relaxed when the boy spoke. "Miri! You're okay..." Wandering hands touched the bandage over the prince's eyes, the wrappings around burnt hands, and he corrected, "...You're alive."
Milliard's lips quirked as if to say, Would you expect anything else?
But the mysterious boy that Pagan was now assuming to be Kushrenada's son grabbed onto the prince and hugged the air right out of him. "Thank God you're okay."
There was a faint whisper in Treize's ear, and Pagan read the lips. "I didn't think you believed in God."
"I don't," the boy said, finally pulling away, running a hand through the deep red-brown waves of perfectly cut hair. "But I would thank the Devil himself--"
"Treize." At the door, stood General Kushrenada in all his glory. The boy stiffened and turned around to bow to his father, but the general waved a hand. Pagan could hear the words at ease, soldier lingering in the air, and it made him severely uncomfortable. He'd forgotten how much he hated the military...
The man gave a glance to Pagan, telling with those fiercely burning eyes that they would talk about this later, and then he crossed the room and bent down before Milliard, who seemed to be a bit confused by all of the things left unspoken that he could not see. Treize backed away when his father approached, but not so much to lose contact with the prince; his right hand remained on an uninjured shoulder, offering silent support.
The general studied Milliard for what seemed to be a long time, and then smiled something neither loving nor unfriendly. "I see that you've managed to survive."
Milliard nodded with a barely-there jerk of the head, unable to speak again.
And the general's eyes flashed, as if experiencing some uncomfortable train of thought. He turned away, and with the flick of his finger, Treize was pulling Milliard up and leading him to the door. Pagan could hear Treize whispering into the prince's ear about his room, which was right next door to Treize's own. He didn't miss the prince smile about this, but they were gone before he could follow the conversation entirely.
The general sat down in the chair before Pagan, and Pagan followed with another hand-wave of at ease. Pagan was starting to find that wave quite annoying.
But it was some time before the other man spoke. Pagan didn't know if this was to ensure that the children wouldn't overhear, or if the man was merely gathering his bearings enough to speak. Either way, when he did finally speak, the voice was soft, lilted with unexpected comradery.
"You are Mr. Romonov. Milliard had spoken highly of you."
Pagan knew that he meant the late Milliardo senior. He nodded, and though it killed him to do so, he merely said, "Sir," like any good solider would. When in Rome...
Kushrenada smiled something that shown teeth. "You are not one of my soldiers, Mr. Romonov, and neither of us are going to pretend that you ever will be. You may call me Kushrenada or Treize. I prefer Kushrenada--Treize is also my son, and that gets confusing rather quickly."
So both men had named their children after them. Pagan took the time to be vaguely amused, putting it down as powerful men with egos big enough to rule a nation or two. "Of course. Kushrenada, then."
The general started to grin back something entirely elegant, but it was broken by a thought, and he sighed instead, eyes gone cold and dark. "You are asking quite much of me," he said.
Meaning the prince. Pagan tensed. "It was the King's last wish. I have done only as he wanted."
The general nodded. "Of course. It has just taken me by surprise... the late Milliard was a strange man, but I never expected--" He left it hanging, steepling his fingers before him in thought. "In any case, we must discuss the problems involved. I do not know what Milliard intended by sending his son here, but he must have known that having him raised in the house of a general--especially mine--will turn the prince inevitably onto the path of a soldier. This is a military family, Mr. Romonov, and I raise children of the military. It's an ironic disgrace to the very name of Sanq itself and I will not dishonor an old friend in such a way, by tainting his son."
Pagan glared. "It is what your old friend wished, general."
The general's expression went blank, his eyes misted with the sudden, whirling confusion of loss. This is the what the death of a King did to his people.
For another long moment, Kushrenada did not answer, fighting against the raw emotion that always came with the death of close friends. Staring at the floor, a soft spoken whisper, frustrated. "Milliard..." Pagan could see the other words, unspoken in his eyes, even if he was not meant to see them. What are you intending, my friend?
The general shook his head, the spell broken, and his eyes locked onto Pagan with a sudden, bitter, intense epiphany. "He was seeking revenge."
Shock, if only for the stunning truth of it.
Pagan was taken back and swallowed hard to dispel the last images of his King, mutilated and left to die beside the remaining head of his wife. Of course it was about revenge. But the concept was so strange, coming from a Peacecraft...
"If he had been in a saner state of mind, Milliardo would have never demanded such a thing of me."
"But he did," Pagan said.
A hard stare. "So he did."
"The prince has no where else to go, Kushrenada. You must take him."
"There are other places to hide the son of a Peacecraft."
Pagan shook his head, frustrated with the general's sudden sense of morality. "Not many so safe. The men hunting him down are no doubt very good at what they do, and they will not stop until they find him, should they ever discover that he is still alive. It is best that he be in the home of a man none would entirely expect. As you said. Imagine the irony."
Kushrenada did not seem to enjoy having his words turned against him. He sat back in his chair, long legs folded almost precisely, one hand held up to his chin in deep thought. There was yet another long moment of silence, and Pagan waited, slowly growing impatient.
But the words, when they finally came, surprised him again.
"The boy wants revenge as well. He will not leave the path in which he is already headed, even if I do refuse to take him. I fear that I have no choice."
Pagan had to laugh, though it was hoarse with bitterness. "Can't resist it, can you general? I can see it in your eyes. You see how far he'll go."
Kushrenada just stared at the other man, and it was a very demeaning kind of stare. "That boy," he said slowly, "...is too dangerous for war. You give him first blood, and he will never stop. Mere revenge will never be good enough for him, Romonov."
Pagan remembered Relena's baby-like words, suggesting that first blood had already been drawn. It was much too late to pull out now, he knew. But he asked, "How do you know?"
"Pacifists," the general said. "They make for the worst kind of killer."
Another uncomfortable silence.
Then, "You have no choice, Kushrenada."
"I know."
"So you will take him?"
"I must."
And thus, it was agreed.
Pagan wasn't so sure it was a victory.
He stayed for dinner, explained the medications for Milliard's condition, and left for the airport shortly thereafter, unwilling to stay the night despite many polite offers. The prince did not come down to say goodbye, and it was only when Pagan was back on the plane, on the way to Sanq again, that he felt a small golden ring in his pocket. He had forgotten to give it to the prince.
So he kept it, put it back in his pocket, and told himself that he would be keep it safe until the boy was ready to face his father again. Though Kushrenada's words worried him, Pagan knew the boy would survive. Somehow, someway, everything would be fine.
Eventually.
Until then, he would do the best that he could to make sure the heirs weren't killed in the process.
--Fini