As She Slept

Chapter 6

by Kat Dickerson

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Treize jolted forth in his bed, the sweat rolling from his agitated body. There had been no nightmare he could accuse himself of, so there was truly no excuse for his sudden feeling of alarm...of anguish. The pounding of his heart was screaming from beneath his chest, crying and wailing with burning urgence.

“I did not eat anything that could have caused such an attack,” Treize hissed to himself, realizing this to most likely be either a wretched case of acid reflux or a manifestation of stress. He wished that were all that plagued him, as within a matter of moments, only but an hour after he and Lady Une closed their grisly waltz of insults, murders and threats, the doors to his bedroom flew open to reveal none other than his Uncle Dermail. A dozen armed weapons aimed at his head, Treize was aggravated beyond belief, mortified beyond recognition!

A fine situation...a fine, bloody situation, indeed!

“Good evening, nephew,” Dermail hissed, his arms folded across his chest. “Terribly sorry to have disturbed your slumber.”

“Oh...” Treize spat back sarcastically, “I doubt you’re as apologetic as you would have me believe.” Dermail, Dermail...the gluttonous viper...finally found his chance to strike, had he?

“It was a mistake for the Foundation Senate to appoint you as General of OZ,” Dermail growled, “Do not mistake me...you are my nephew, my own blood...but I have always doubted your potential, Treize. Yes, you talk a fair game, with well laid out plans, but your actions sell you short, my lad.”

“So who do I thank for this intrusion?” Treize said, his blue eyes narrowed in anger, “Romafellar...or you, dear Uncle?”

“Both,” Dermail grinned. “I’m not the only one in the Foundation to see past your arrogant illusions, my dear nephew. The Foundation is backing me one-hundred percent on this one, for this war has been drawn out long enough. It is time the conflicts are ended, so that OZ can take its rightful place at the forefront of this society.”

Treize chuckled then, running a hand through his chestnut brown hair. He stood from the bed then, having gotten over the humiliation of soldiers seeing him in nothing but his sleep bottoms. “Ah,” Treize said, one strong hand planted on his hip, “To the heart of the matter. World Domination...that is your goal.”

“And it was yours as well, dear nephew.” Those words held mountains of truth within them, the contents of such syllables smacking the smile from Treize’s face. Yes...Dermail was correct...that had been Treize’s goal, his ultimate dream, before the epiphany he had following Lady Une’s gritty words of condemnation.

Lady Une. Yes...that was it...she might be his enemy now, but she was still a valuable commodity to him, whether she realized it or not. She was the link between Dermail and Treize and the murder attempt, he still had that transcript data, and could use it against his Uncle. Oh, but that would be unfortunate, for Dermail’s reputation to be tarnished with a paper-trail which exposed his dealings with a known assassin.

But he would not play that card now...no...he would do that soon enough. When the time was right.

“Take him away,” Dermail ordered, “But do not harm him. Those are my strict orders.”

“One moment!” Treize raised his hand in protest toward the guards readying to apprehend him. “I refuse to be led away in my bedclothes.”

“Still cocksure, even in your less than finest moment.”

Dermail’s tone was half annoyed, half respectful. He brushed a piece of wiry grey hair from his temple, giving Treize the opportunity to notice small spats of red on the fingertips of his Uncle’s white gloves. Though this was something that raised a bit of alarm in Treize, he decided it best to remain quiet and not raise any questions. His Uncle was a murderer, and Treize should have paid closer attention to this more sinister side of Dermail's nature. Once again, he had been too busy indulging himself to pay closer attention. Now it was obvious that his so-called Uncle was only a blood-relative in name only, no longer a confidant, no longer a friend and no longer an ally.

“My shortcomings have been great, but my accomplishments greater,” said Treize, “I gave respect when it was due, and now I insist upon being shown the same.”

He bore his ice blue eyes into his Uncle’s skull, wishing in some small morbid way that he could melt the old man from the outside inward.

“Very well, then. Into your uniform with haste.”

Haste was not the word Treize would have used when describing his task of dressing himself. He was surrounded by a handful of guards, weapons drawn, waiting for him to make one move of defiance. It seemed ironic; these men were once under his command, once performed tasks like these for himself. Treize realized then something that seemed to have eluded him before now; they were like dogs, eager for the hunt, for the thrill of capturing the prize. For someone who claimed to be in love with people, Treize had sorely underestimated humanity.

When he had dressed, Treize gave his Uncle emotionless stare, which was reciprocated by a look of cold resolute. Handcuffs were clasped around his wrists and then he was led away to the limpid gray van waiting outside.

Silence was his master throughout the long drive, Treize had much to contemplate and did not particularly feel very personable at the moment. He wished he had been more prepared, although he did not know how in the hell he would have been ready for something such as this. And in that moment, her words came upon him again, like a bird of prey.

Lady Une...she had somewhat predicted this, in some strange form, even if it were not intentional. She had labeled him to be lacking in courage...in direction. Those had been perfect arrows, screaming into their intended mark. Yes...if he had not been so caught up in his own arrogant endeavors, schemes, then perhaps he could have seen this thing collapsing all around him.

Ah...but Louis and Antoinette...they did not see the comings of the French Revolution either...until it was too late. Until it was literally right outside the gates of Versailles.

My God...I have been a fool...an ignorant. In my hands, I held the world...literally...and I squandered it. I have wasted the opportunity of a lifetime...have possibly cheated myself of a most promising destiny, of a fulfilling future. Not for the Sovereign...no, no...but for the chance to truly do some good for humanity...to redeem my tarnished self-image.

He looked through a barred window, then back to the floor. It was too dark to see where they were going, much less to enjoy the view. Treize was surprised they were not escorting him away by carriage, but then again, he supposed his chances of escaping from a carriage were far greater than from a carrier such as this. Damn that Dermail!

Duke Dermail was becoming no more than a silhouette as he stood in the moonlight drive of what were now Treize’s former quarters, watching silently as the van carried Treize away. As his Uncle’s figure began to disappear, Treize could only see the remnants of a onetime great man slowly being replaced by the mantle of a tyrant. Was this what he himself had been turning into; into a polished monster?

Polished Monster. It sounds more like the roundabout title of a biography, doesn’t it? I shouldn’t be thinking of these things now, but I cannot help myself. That man standing in the dark light was once my most cherished relative, my own flesh and blood, my own Uncle. He taught me to hunt, to fence, to speak with careful eloquence.

He also taught me arrogance, indifference...yes...he taught me the ways of Romafellar quite well, that Uncle of mine, quite well indeed.

And you...Lady Une...my little lady assassin...where are you now? Halfway gone into oblivion, I’m sure. How ironic was it that it was you...you were the one to set my mind straight, to pull me from my fog.

Memories of her were plaguing him, from their first encounter to the last. He had been wrong to entrap her, to coerce her into doing his bidding. What he should have done was try to rehabilitate the girl, not further her knowledge of death and dying. He should have stopped the cycle instead of perpetuating it, damn it all!

Faces of the various women he had claimed as conquests were dancing around in his head now, the endless collection of beauties who had willingly flung themselves into his bed. He had used them...all of them...for his own pleasures...to further his greed, his infatuations. None of them had meant anything to him...none of them at all. He would be lucky to remember a handful of their names, if even that many! With these women, he had been as intimate as a man and a woman can be, yet he knew nothing more about them; they were but phantoms passing in and out of his life.

Her face...with the placid dark eyes and fair skin...the straight brown hair...it had attached itself to him, like a leech, unwilling to release and sucking everything away from him. Treize knew Lady Une would haunt him, for she was the greatest reminder of his sins, she was the manifestation of his transgressions!

But there was more...far more to this. Treize traced the patterned metal floor of the carrier truck with the toe of his thick boot. He would never see that girl...that woman again...tomorrow, when he awoke ( wherever he awoke ), there would be no more angry calls, no more cryptic insults, no more defiance. No more Lady Une. Period.

Just a head-ful of anguishing memories...that’s what she was ridding him of...the Lady Une...she was uprooting a legacy of frustration, and for that he should thank her...no...commend her. He would get over this separation, would learn to accept it once enough time had passed. But had there been no fond memories between them...had there been nothing of which he could use to soothe his aching ego? Had they shared nothing but...hatred? Yes...sadly enough, they had...except...except...

Yes...there had been one time...one lone instance where in a brief moment, the guards of Treize Khushrenada and Lady Une were placed aside...when they shared a brief, but impressionable moment. The actual time and date, Treize could not remember, but it was on a Colony...somewhere on the outposts of space.

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Lady Une had just finished a speaking engagement, one of her first, and Treize had come to space per Dermail’s request to see that their Lady was doing the job they had assigned to her. To put all jealousies aside, it was a remarkable speech, self-written, very punctual and well delivered. Lady Une had a way of commanding people’s attention, of holding them right where she wanted for however long she wanted. Yes...he had deemed her a success privately, despite the green envy which was starting to take root within him.

After the engagement, he insisted they have a formal dinner meeting with the President of the Colony. Of course, she could not refuse, though her brown eyes were giving him very well pronounced looks of disdain. She had told him she was nervous, that she was not good in close circles, but he had disregarded this and made her do it anyway. Why she had been uneasy, he could not understand, for as in her speaking arrangements, dinner had been another success.

The men, despite the angry stares and under the table pinches they were receiving from their dates and wives, were completely captivated with Lady Une, totally drawn into this...marvelous character she had created. Even Treize’s Uncle Dermail, who had accompanied him for this visit, was taken with the transformation in Lady Une’s demeanor.

“This is quite impressive,” Dermail had whispered to Treize, who wondered if Dermail truly realized Lady Une’s identity, or if he simply just had his suspicions. “I think you’ve stumbled upon something in this girl.” Either way, if Dermail knew who Lady Une truly was, he was not above using her talents for his own good.

In this instance, he had to agree with Dermail, for Lady Une seemed to be quite capable, despite her grievances toward herself, of handling this position. Perhaps now, with her handling these duties, he would be free to pursue other things upon the Earth and would not have to bother with the long travel hours and endless speaking.

One must remember, this was the old Treize and not the new Treize creating these thoughts. That Treize was eager to get back to his circles of privilege, to his women, his gambling...his life of pleasure. A new opera was opening that weekend, and he was most excited over it, for it was a work that had not been performed before. Now, the new Treize would sniff in disapproval at this behavior, but that was then and this was now...and his memory was still with her...

After dinner was over, Treize’s limousine escorted he and Lady Une back to their hotel. Dermail had taken an early shuttle back to Earth, something Treize had considered doing himself, but for some reason...he decided to wait until the morning to return.

Sitting straight across from her, Treize noted that she seemed troubled, his solitary Colonel, more so than he had ever detected. Well, looking back, there could have been more times, but he had not really been that interested in her personal affairs. The lips were pursed together, the brown eyes glazed, the shoulders slumped.

“Dinner went well, I think,” Treize mumbled, trying to break the terrible silence that always seemed to exist between the two of them, “Not as much of a travesty as you expected.” He grinned, giving her a slight tap against her shoe with his black boot, something that normally irritated her. In the past, she would usually either kick him back or give him a fierce “quit that” but that did not happen tonight.

“Perhaps.” Her voice was lower than normal...she was tired, he saw that plainly, but her words carried more of a melancholy air than of tiredness. For a moment, he wished she would say something smart-assed to him, wished she would fling some curse word his way, as were her seething custom. Silence overtook him again as he considered leaving her alone to her business, but one must remember, he was Treize Khushrenada, and therefore, found it very hard to resist such a tempting situation.

“Feeling ill?” The perfect lead-in to gathering information. Her answer to this could give him many clues to her situation, her inner thoughts. She did not answer him at first, her eyes were still looking down, but after a few moments, her head popped up, as if she had been in some faraway place.

“Huh?” Lady Une shook her head back and forth. “Did you say something?”

This had concerned Treize a tad, for obviously she had been pondering something extremely important, for it was unlike Lady Une to simply allow any comment to go passing over her head. She was very perceptive, highly intelligent...extremely conscious of everything around her.

“You look pale,” Treize said, for it was the truth...her skin was a shade or so lighter than the last time he had seen her, “Are you well?”

Lady Une rubbed one side of her neck then, a gesture he had seen her perform more than once. He had come to realize her to do this mindless motion when she was agitated over something. Why she always rubbed her neck, he did not know, but that was trifle...everyone had a quirk or two hiding beneath them. He was concerned with her mood, and why it had dulled all of a sudden.

“Tired,” She said, slipping into German for a moment and then catching herself, going back to the accent he preferred, “Just...tired.” Somehow, Treize knew this was not the absolute truth, but left her to her response.

Arrival at their hotel within the next few moments was a stroke of good fortune in Treize’s eyes. Lady Une’s calm behavior and tone-less expressions were beginning to wane thin and were making him uncomfortable. The driver opened the door, Treize being the first to exit the oversized luxury car. Again, looking back on this, he felt foolish...for that was truly an arrogant action...but again...that was the past. He turned slightly, to make sure she was following, and in the instant he did, witnessed her stumble.

Treize had been lucky enough to catch her before she hit the pavement fully, though her knee suffered a minor bruise and a nasty scratch. This seemed to bring her back to reality, as the brown eyes blinked and then returned to their normal state. Treize, thinking her to have done nothing more than trip on her heels, let loose of her, only for her to nearly tumble once more. Again, he grabbed hold of her before she went tumbling down again.

“Lady, for heaven’s sake...” Treize murmured, “What in the world is the matter with-“ the faint smell of wine lingered near her lips. Oh yes...that was right...she had refused them politely when the wine was offered, and he had pinched her leg beneath the table to indicate that she was, perhaps unbeknownst to her, being rude, seeing as their hosts had ordered the bottle of vintage merlot especially for her. As the heel of one of her white pumps sank into his boot, Lady Une retracted her answer, holding out her empty wine glass for the waiter to fill.

That in itself would not have been a problem, but Treize, being the sometimes unobservant that he was, neglected to tell her that it was quite all right to abstain from any further glasses. Looking back, he did notice her to be somewhat friendlier...more talkative halfway through...and he did remember the glass being refilled at least twice. Again...he was thinking in terms of himself, and his tolerance was quite steady...but...well...truth be told, he knew nothing of hers.

“Are you drunk?” Treize whispered in annoyance as he steadied her. People were glancing, he knew they knew who he and Lady Une were...he could not allow them to see them in this way. Well...truth be told...it might not be of that much harm...after all, sometimes these results were expected from a business dinner where the alcohol flowed freely, but he would have preferred to have kept it as much out of the public eye as possible.

Only...when she looked up at him with an impish grin, cocked one eyebrow and nodded, he began to become agitated with her again. Damn her! She was going to ruin herself in public at this rate, and then both their credibility would be shot!

“Your Excellency,” the driver said, “Do you need my-“

“Just park the car and keep your composure,” Treize instructed, “I’ll take the Lady to her room.”

He put one strong arm around Lady Une then, his fingers gripping her tightly in that crevice where the joint of the elbow is nestled. Feigning smiles and waves to those who passed, Treize quickly ushered Lady Une up the steps of the hotel and into the front doors, hissing a hurried, “Hold your tongue until we are out of plain sight, or I will absolutely wring your little neck!”

“Wring your little neck,” Lady Une repeated quietly, almost inaudibly. Even intoxicated, she still knew how to get under his skin, knew exactly the right button to push. To add to his mortified state, she then reached her arm around his waist and dug her fingernails deeply into his ribcage. It was terribly hard for him to keep from yelping loudly, though he did make quite a jump.

Several people in the lobby grinned, and this made Treize fume silently. For one, it did no good for people to think he and the Lady Une were an item, people were already buzzing those rumors, and it was hard enough dispelling them. Second...he did not approve of her...well...he did not appreciate what she had done, and that was that! He was going to kill that little devil...once they were safe behind the door of his suite!

It was a damned good thing he had already taken care of hotel arrangements before dinner that he already had the key in his uniform pocket.

Lady Une heeded his warning, taking her hand from his waist and following along rather obediently, and to be honest, was behaving rather well...until they stepped inside the elevator. which thankfully, was empty. Treize, thinking them to be almost out of the woods, leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it a thousand times,” Treize hissed wearily, “I could wring your little neck!”

Lady Une grabbed his testicles then, clamping down on them like a pit bull. At this, he felt a searing pain come over his privates, his eyes darting open, watering, for that...as one knows...hurts like hell!

The elevator beeped, signaling it time for them to make their departure, and Lady Une grabbed the room key from Treize and loosened her grip on his privates, sauntering to the suite and leaving him to limp behind her. He was going to kill that terrible bitch! Well...once he was able to walk correctly...that is...

When he regained his composure, Treize charged through the closing door, before it could shut in his face and lock him out, storming into her half of the suite. As he was coming through the door, he was met by a white high heel striking him in the forehead, thankfully not heel side first.

“Fucking hell!” Treize bellowed, placing his hand on his wounded forehead. He rarely used strong language, but tonight...she was waltzing on his last nerve. Lucky for her she was intoxicated and a female; had neither of those factors been involved, he would have pummeled her by now.

“Oops...” Came the catty reply. “It slipped.”

Treize, done with the games and ready to go to bed, said nothing as he strode menacingly toward Lady Une, now sitting on the edge of the bed, a smug grin plastered upon her face. He was going to put an end to this immediately. He took his gloves off, one by one, slowly and deliberately. To his delight, this placed a look of confusion on her face, a look of “what next?”

Before Lady Une could even begin to think about struggling, Treize snatched her up, sat in the spot where she had been, turned her over on top of his lap, lifted her skirt and smacked her on the bottom...hard.

“OW, DAMMIT!” Lady Une howled, for his flattened palm against her derriere was anything but pleasant.

“Behave like a child, be corrected like a child,” Treize hissed, pulling her skirt back down over her plain grey panties.

“Asshole!”

“Likewise.”

They were glaring at each other again, brown eyes versus blue eyes. But Treize was not going to relent...was not going to let Lady Une win this round. She rubbed her sore bottom, pouting her lips into oblivion.

“Put your nightclothes on,” Treize ordered. “I’m going to bed.”

“Then go to bed!” Lady Une snapped, jumping up from the mattress. “I’m perfectly able to-“ Obviously, she wasn’t. She took two steps, then fell into a small table, it and herself tumbling to the ground.

“Easy,” Treize sighed, helping her to her feet. “Just lay down. I will help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well...it’s your fucking fault I’m in this state. I don’t even drink red wine, you idiot! I’m anemic!”

“Anemic?” Treize questioned. That would certainly explain why she had gotten so drunk so quickly...why she often had dizzy spells or why her face was prone to a pale shade of apricot.

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Touche. He hadn’t, had he? For this, he could accept some responsibility...should have thought to at least find some idea as far as her tolerance was concerned. But then again, such matters were not of importance to his own daily routine, and so therefore these types of questions rarely, if ever, crossed his mind.

“Fine,” Treize said, “I apologize. Does that make you happy?”

Lady Une glared at him still, not relenting her cold gaze. Well, that much was to be expected...she hated him and was not shy about it, so why should he hope for anything other than chilled contempt? However, he could not let her sleep in her suit...it would wrinkle, and then people would be whispering and chattering.

“Come now,” Treize said, this time more gently, “I said I was sorry...now please...let me help you.”

Reluctantly, her barrier fell for a moment, and she nodded, knowing she could not walk properly, knowing she truly did need assistance. Treize opened her suitcase, taking out a plain grey shirt and black shorts, then motioned for her buttons. She recoiled at this, placing her hand on her neck, as if he were going to assault her.

“I won’t dishonor you,” Treize promised, “You have my word. I won’t look any more than I have to.”

When he could see that she was no longer going to resist him, Treize decided to do this as quickly and effectively as possible. He put the shorts on over her legs and slid them underneath the blue skirt, then pulled it off over the shorts. That protected her honor, and seeing that he had gone through these lengths to keep from humiliating her, Lady Une’s level of cooperation increased. Once he had unbuttoned the suit jacket and white blouse underneath, with closed eyes, she held her arms upward so that he could slide the expensive fabrics off easier.

It was then that he caught sight of something interesting...of the unusual marking on her neck. Tiny bow and arrow...simple in design but permanent on her skin...it was quite intriguing. What did it mean, he wondered...where did she get it? He did not see Lady Une as one for tattoos...no...this had a meaning, a history to it. Another interesting aspect still was the rosary nestled around her neck...he had not thought of her to be religious, by any means.

Treize reached out his hand, and forgetting all about the task at hand, gently ran his thumb over the archer’s mark. At this, her eyes darted open and she grabbed hold of his wrist tightly. Their eyes locked then, her black orbs drawing in his blue spheres.

“What is this?” He forgot himself for a moment, forgot their situation. “Tell me...what does this mean?” His thumb gracefully caressed the emblem on her neck, his tone had gone from stern and reprimanding to warm and gentle. Their eyes were still locked upon one another.

“I don’t know...” Brown-black orbs still engulfing him, still freezing his gaze into theirs. “It has always been there.”

“Obviously you were not born with it...” Treize continued, his thumb still rubbing the blackened pattern on her china skin, “Surely...”

“No...” Lady Une’s pupils were visible now...probably the first time he had ever been able to detect that she even had them, for they were often disguised within the darkness around them. “I cannot remember...I cannot remember my past...”

“Everyone has a past...” His entire hand was resting around her neck...where the archer’s emblem was...his entire hand was rubbing that part of her neck...just as he had seen her do so many times. Yes...everyone had a past...did they not?

Lady Une tilted her head to one side. “Not everyone can remember...I cannot remember...it is gone...obliterated...” She grinned and made a sweeping gesture. But despite her attempt at comedy, Treize had turned darkly serious. This marking bothered him...gave him a feeling of unease. His glance fell, and realizing she was half-naked, his face turned a burning red.

“Here,” he mumbled quickly as he all but forced the shirt over her head, hiding away her cleavage, her modest white bra. Normally, he would have never imagined himself to become so uneasy over a woman’s body, but this was...well...it was Lady Une for God’s sake...she was his employee...not his lover. This had sexual harassment written all over turn into a potential disaster.

“Nasty scrape,” Treize said, spying the strawberry shaped place where she had skinned her knee. “Have you your first aid kit?”

“At Barge.”

“A lot of good it will do us there,” Treize said, “But no matter. I might have something in my room. Stay here...I will be right back.”

To his section of the suite he rushed, being relieved to find the small kit in the bottom of his suitcase. He took the red bag of medicinal supplies back to Lady Une’s side of the suite. No sense in letting that wound get infected.

Lady Une was stretched out on the mattress, arms above her head, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. To be truthful, there was a certain seductive quality to seeing her this way. Treize had to admit the woman was beautiful in her own right...even if she were no great beauty...there was something about her...something different.

“This is going to burn a bit,” Treize said, brushing the iodine on her knee. This brought her out of wherever she had been, as she jerked forward, the pain in her eyes from the iodine’s sting. Instinctively, he blew upon her knee to cool the burning sensation before sticking a huge band-aid over the skinned place. “There...does that-“

Black-brown orbs engulfed him, her head tilted to one side, the lips pressed together. Her gaze was haunting, and it stole the rest of his sentence out from under him. For a moment, Treize was mesmerized by her, captivated, and in the worst kind of way. It was different than with the other women that had passed through his life...he had always been able to make their hearts race, their cheeks flush. But with her..the tables had been turned.

Never had Treize been as drawn to someone like this, though at the time he would have never admitted it. At once, this frustrated him, as in the past he had been the one in control, had been able to call the shots but now...now, she was the one holding him, entrancing him.

“Time for sleep,” Treize said curtly, not wishing to even acknowledge the fact that she was working his emotions, even if she had no idea she was doing it. He turned on his heel and left her there, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring after him as he took his leave, trying to forget her brown eyes with each step.

“General?”

“Yes?” He paused, tilting his head slightly over his shoulder.

“I...well...thank you.”

Treize turned completely around then, noting that she was still sitting there on the edge of the bed, head still tilted, giving him a straight grin. This was the first time she had actually been even remotely hospitable to him, and even then...he would have never expected gratitude from her.

“Glad to lend my services, Lady. Now...goodnight...”

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The sensation of his head being slammed against the cold metal interior of the van made Treize awake with a start. He had slipped back into sleep without realizing it during his little trip down memory lane. A glimpse out of the rear window indicated the dawn and he now wondered how long they would continue traveling.

“Bloody Hell,” Treize mumbled to himself as he rubbed the back of his head. There was no cut, but unless he received some pain reliever, Treize would have a nasty headache on his hands come evening. That is...if they were finished with their travels by evening.

“Where am I being taken?” It was more of an indirect order than a question; Treize did not believe in asking anything of a subordinate, even if he was technically in their custody. In his mind, he was still a General and as such, still commanded the utmost of respect.

“I’m not at liberty to say, Your Excellency.” A stock reply, and not one that Treize cared to hear or would tolerate.

“I’ll ask you once more,” said Treize with burning blue eyes, “Where am I being taken?”

To his satisfaction, this seemed to unsettle the young soldier. Weak-minded people are always intimidated by those with an authoritative demeanor, regardless of whether they are in the military or not. One glance at the young man’s crinkled brow told Treize that he would be getting the answer he sought.

“Romafellar Castle,” was the answer that escaped from the soldier’s lips with a slightly shaken tone, “In Lucerne.”

“I see.”

Castle seemed to be an unfitting name for the structure they were taking him to, for though the exterior dated back to the Renaissance period, the interior had been completely converted into nothing short of a modern luxury. To put it bluntly, the Castle, which up until now had been primarily used for festive occasions, was probably as technologically advanced as any other world Governmental structure, if not more so.

Castle, indeed. Fortress was a more fitting title by far, if one wanted to get to the “nitty-gritty” of the matter. And that’s exactly what it would be, too...a fortress lined with Mobile Dolls and underpaid, overworked and inadequately trained foot soldiers.

“How much longer?” He cocked one forked brow at the soldier, knowing that it would not take asking twice for this question to be answered.

“About twenty minutes, Sir.”

Only a handful of minutes before he was to greet his cage, before he was to be locked away while his Uncle took over his duties and commenced to his great plan of delusion and oppression.

Cage.

Treize could not help but snort a small chuckle to himself as the sheer irony of the situation unfolded itself before him. He was on his way to a gilded cage, to a luxurious prison cell, not unlike the one he had created for the Lady Une, who by now was most likely on her way to the opposite end of the Galaxy. She was too intelligent to have gotten caught up in Dermail and Tubarov’s plans; no doubt by now she knew that he had been imprisoned. His arrest was her ticket to freedom, and he would not put it past her to take advantage of this.

Twenty minutes that had seemed like twenty years, in actuality, passed more like twenty seconds. The Castle began to come into view then, it being a thousand times more regal and majestic than Treize had remembered it to be. He had only been a boy the last time he had visited this place, but even those memories could not do this sight justice, for it was as if he were seeing it again for the first time.

Once having belonged to a German Count, the castle passed through many, many hands before The Romafellar Foundation acquired it sometime around the end of the twenty-first century, before the timeline shifted into AC. After that, the Castle was completely re-done and updated to fit a modern society’s needs.

And now, the van was coming to a halt, the Castle looming before them like a stone ogre. Treize had barely enough time to gain his balance before he was being led from the vehicle, up the walkway and up the steps into the Grand Foyer. No one was waiting for him, and this was somewhat of a disappointment, for Treize had somehow expected his snaky Uncle Dermail to be there to greet him. But that was foolish, wasn’t it, to think such things? Dermail was nestling himself into Treize’s old abode, no doubt already tossing orders left and right.

“Good Morning.”

From a door slightly to the left emerged a female attendant, her age Treize guessed to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old. Blonde haired and grey eyed, she wore no uniform or stripes, which indicated that though she was possibly of Romafellar, she was no doubt a civilian. But for the foundation to provide him with such a young, female, non-military attendant; who was to be blamed for that?

She did not wait for him to answer her morning greeting.

“Your room is in the West Wing, Mr. Khushrenada,” continued the attendant, who did not seem to be the bit fazed or stirred by his presence, “I will take you there now.”

For a moment, he felt compelled to correct her misusage of his title, but then reminded himself that he was now, for the first time in his life, without title. He had gone from a Duke to a Senator, then climbed to Colonel and ultimately to General. Well, perhaps he was still a Duke, but that was a hollow term, and most men in Romafellar were either a Duke or a Count or a Baron, so it did not do his persent thoughts much justice. Now, he was simply Treize Khushrenada, and for some reason, he felt the absence of a title suited him better than when he had one. But that could be simply the lack of sleep talking and not himself.

Across the marble floor, up the carpeted staircase and down the ornate hallways he followed the blonde haired girl in grim silence. The only thing he could think of now were his downfalls, his weaknesses and his mistakes.

What future did the Earth Sphere and the Colonies have now that his Uncle Dermail was in control? Not very much of a future, that was for sure. Dermail was more or less interested in the Sphere’s welfare and could care less about the colonies. He simply wanted to control the colonies so as to strip mine most of them for their precious metals and resources. No doubt after he had obtained what he needed, Dermail would terminate his proposed peace treaty with the colonies.

The war was waltzing around itself, so it seemed, and Treize realized then that neither himself, nor Dermail, nor King Peacecraft, nor Vice Minister Darlian had helped in any way but rather, had contributed to the strife and separation. Total pacifism was a red herring; it could never be achieved. Treize had been the wolf in tailored sheep’s clothing and Dermail was nothing short of the Anti-Christ.

The girl stopped before a set of huge double wooden doors and with a tiny alabaster hand, removed a key from her front pocket. As she turned the ornate piece of brass in the keyhole, Treize felt himself become agitated again. They meant to lock him in his room, like a misbehaved child, and that added another level to his present humiliation. Damn them!

“Here we are, Mr. Khushrenada,” the girl said as she led him into the very large set of apartments. “You’ve a sitting room, an office, large bath and a small library. It seems as though the Foundation has taken good care of you.”

“Indeed,” Treize said, “The most expensive cage in the world, I would venture.”

The girl’s expression soured. “Uncle Dermail was right, you are an ungrateful brat. Most prisoners of war are executed, or thrown into total darkness. Here, you’ve been given a Grande Suite and still you complain.”

“Uncle Dermail?” Treize felt his palms grow clammy, “Why do you address him as such?”

“You can’t be serious,” said blonde hair-grey eyes, “Do you not remember me?” Her grey eyes glittered with evil pleasure, a look even colder than any he had ever received, even from Lady Une. But, despite that, Treize could only shake his head back and forth, for he did not know this girl.

“No recollection.”

“Pity.” She was standing with her hands behind her back now, the delicate head tilted downward like a tiger ready to pounce. “Although, I must allow you some leeway; it has been a while. The last time we met, I was wearing a silver dress and my hair was short, up to here.” She made a motion across her chin. “It was New Years’ and the Foundation had gathered at the Chateau D’Morignon in Marseilles. Your mother had just been dead a year and your father had brought his mistress to the celebration, and you hated that.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with-“

“Dear cousin,” the girl hissed, “Remember your manners.” She cocked one light blonde eyebrow and then continued. “You’d brought your friend with you, the one who your family took in, and the two of you spent most of your evening in the mirrored ballroom, alone...or so you thought.”

“This is making no sense.” Treize was in no mood for games, and especially from someone who was in the business of fabricating memories.

“Pay attention, and it will.” She was becoming more serious now, the grey eyes clouding into small orbs of stormy resolve. “There were four in that ballroom, not two. While you and your blonde-haired friend had what you thought was a private discussion, my first cousin Dorothy and I sat in the corner, between the reflections, hearing every word you and your friend uttered.”

“Dorothy’s first cousin...then that means...” Treize was at a loss for words. Surely it couldn’t be...no...it couldn’t be...

“And he finally comes to it,” the grey-eyed vixen purred, “Yes, dear Cousin, it is me, Francesca Catalonia, daughter of Bartolo Catalonia, the younger brother of Dorothy Catalonia’s father.”

Treize was astounded. “My own family has turned against me.”

“Since when were we a family?”

Again, a bitter truth. He and his relatives were bound only by means of genetics and not of honor or love. Khushrenada, Catalonia, Dermail...names which once held some sort of distinction and pride for Treize were quickly becoming a rotting albatross around his neck.

It came back to him then, all of it, the night in the ballroom of mirrors, his breath rich with the scent of whiskey, his heart heavy with despair and anger. The woman had ruined the evening in more ways than one, and while she was content to keep her claws dug tightly into his father Treize, though only seventeen, took refuge in the Mens’ parlor, agitating anyone and everyone he could until he felt Millardo pulling him away.

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“You’ve got to slow down,” Treize grumbled as Millardo led him through the ornate hallways. Treize felt his feet halfway dragging against the imported rugs as he rushed to keep up with Zechs’ strides.

“So do you,” Millardo answered, slowing his stride somewhat but still keeping to his course.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know what I mean,” the blonde haired boy said, pushing the doors to the ballroom open. The room was supposed to be off limits for the evening’s occasion, so naturally Millardo had thought it to be a fitting place for a secluded conversation.

“Are you aware this room is off limits?” Treize sniffed, releasing himself from Millardo’s grip. He ignored his friend’s off of his tuxedo jacket, brushing out the tiny, minuscule wrinkles caused by his friend’s

“Are you aware that I just saved you from embarrassing yourself?”

They stared at each other then, a seventeen year old brat of privilege and his thirteen year old prince-turned-refugee best friend. Even though Millardo was four years Treize’s junior, he was already just as tall; if one did not know any better, they would have thought the two were of the same age.

“Embarrassing myself?” Treize chuckled, becoming amused by the sound of his own voice echoing through the ornate ballroom. “Absurd.”

“Yes, I think it is,” Millardo retorted, “Drinking yourself into a stupor, challenging everyone to arguments that you’ve no way of winning. I know you’re angry with your father, but you can’t-”

“No. You have no idea.” His blue eyes frosted over then, turned limpid and cold. No, Millardo could not understand how he felt, for fortunately, Millardo’s parents were dead and due to the fact that he had been but six when they died, would always hold their memories to a higher standard.

Treize was not so fortunate. His father’s reputation had been tainted long before his mother’s passing. It had been abrupt and unexpected, a car crash in the middle of a cold and rainy night. Treize had come home, after a night of carousing, to find a somber Millardo waiting for him in the parlor. His father was not at home ( Treize would later find out that he had been at his mistress’s house, the same mistress at the evening’s party), and the other siblings were also not available, so it was young Millardo left to inform his companion about his mother’s fate.

“Perhaps not,” Millardo had continued, “But making an ass of yourself with the Romafellar men is not going to bring your mother back.”

“Fuck off.” Treize said it before he could think to stop himself, but despite his drunken state, meant it. He was still angry that his father had been with that woman, angry that none of his brothers or sisters were there to comfort him, angry that a soft-hearted pacifist’s child had to be the one to give him such dire news.

Millardo seemed to be genuinely hurt by this comment, but he quickly disregarded himself. Treize would have left the ballroom, but Millardo would have none of it and with one strong arm, was able to prevent this from happening.

“You’re not going back in there,” Millardo said, “I’m not going to let you.”

“Let me?” Treize was swaying back and forth. “Let me? Since when are you my keeper?”

“Since I decided that I’m not going to let anyone make a fool out of you...not even yourself!”

The authoritative tone in Millardo’s voice was enough to snap Treize into somewhat of a reverent stupor. He had never known his friend to use such bold words before, Millardo had always been somewhat of a shy and soft-spoken child. Treize’s eyes drooped to the marbled floor as he struggled not to lose himself to a fit of emotion.

“He brought his whore,” Treize said flatly, “It’s the first Christmas without my mother and he brought his...his...fucking concubine to my family’s gathering!”

Blue eyes lifted themselves to find the passive and sympathetic ice-blue orbs of Millardo, who stood in silence, listening intently to Treize’s outpour of humiliation and fury. This only seemed to anger Treize further, for whatever reason.

“If this is what love is,” Treize growled, “Then I want no part of it. I’m never going to marry anyone, ever. I’ll not help perpetuate this cold void of a so-called family.”

“Now, now,” Millardo said, “That’s the liquor talking, not you.”

“No,” Treize answered, “The liquor only helped me to see it clearly.”

Millardo stood in perfect attention, waiting for his friend to finish before speaking again. This was their way, Treize and Millardo; they were more like master and servant than friends.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Treize cocked one eyebrow at Millardo. “You mean... leave the festivities?” His blue eyes contained a glint of mischief, which only meant that Treize Khushrenada was returning to normal.

“Not exactly,” Millardo said, returning Treize’s grin with a sly smile of his own, “Take the festivities with us, leave the bullshit behind.”

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They had gotten into more trouble than they ever imagined. Not only did they leave in the proper manner ( through the back entrance), Millardo and Treize helped themselves to a few bottles of expensive liquor on their way out. When Treize’s father found out what the boys had done, he was beside himself with rage.

But that was a long time ago. Things had changed. Things would never be the same again.

“Are you ill?”

Francesca was scowling in a way that showed her Catalonia blood. Dorothy had the same expression at times, and Treize wondered if she, too would turn against him as Francesca had. But those were details he could think of later, right now they were irrelevant and useless.

“I wish to be alone.”

“Even with his head on the block, the King still retains his regal air,” purred Francesca as she made a mock bowing gesture.

“When a tree falls,” Treize said coldly, “All of its branches come with it. Wouldn’t you agree, dear cousin?”

His remark cleared her face of the bittersweet smile she had been sporting since his arrival. Now it was Treize’s turn to flash Francesca his own trademark Khushrenada expression of smug victory. Without another word, she twirled on her heel and headed for the door. But in that instant, Treize found himself wanting to ask one more question.

“One moment.”

Francesca stopped in her tracks, looking slightly over her shoulder, her eyes avoiding direct contact with her imprisoned cousin.

“Yes?”

“Is Chief Engineer Tubarov still manufacturing those Mobile Dolls?”

“That’s no longer your concern, I’m afraid.”

“I believe it is. Though my Uncle has committed a despicable act against me, his own nephew, surely he must understand that to do any further business with Tubarov is a mistake.”

“I must admit that I admire your integrity when it comes to military matters,” Francesca purred, still looking somewhat over her shoulder, “If I wasn’t already privy to certain information, then I might consider your warning a trick of some sort.”

“Privy to what information?” Treize felt his neck growing hotter and hotter. How dare his Uncle involve a civilian in his strategic matters, how dare he give a child classified information? Bastard!

“Last night, the Lunar Base was attacked by Space Fortress Barge,” Francesca began, “The amount on both ends was considerable, in fact, the whole episode is going to cost Romafellar billions of dollars.”

Damn that Lady Une! Treize knew this was what Tubarov had been planning, this was why he advised her to hold her temper and not act rashly! Now there was no telling what trouble the little idiot was in, and at a fine time too...when Treize had not the power nor the persuasion to get her out of whatever bind she had found herself in. Damn!

“How extensive was the damage?” Treize inquired keeping his anger toward Lady Une carefully concealed. She did this on purpose, that little minx, in order to make her escape! Treize once again found himself enraged at the woman over her actions, found himself vowing that if they should meet again, he would run her through with his sword, even if she was a woman.

“The Lunar Base is completely shut down for the present,” Francesca said, “And Barge is in no better shape, although it’s up and running as far as I have been told. The Mobile Doll factory is completely defunct, we’ll have to take those operations elsewhere, and Chief Engineer Tubarov is missing...presumed dead.”

Good on all accounts. No Mobile Doll manufacturing for the time being, Barge was intact and Tubarov was dead. That made Treize feel somewhat better, despite his current state of aggravation. But why was the girl talking as if she were military?

“We?” Treize scoffed, “Are you considering yourself a huge part in all of this, dear girl, or are you simply enjoying the thrill of relaying classified information unfit for a civilian?”

“Yes, we,” Francesca replied, paying no attention to Treize’s smug banter, “My Uncle has made me a Lieutenant, dear cousin, and after I leave you, I am to make my first assignment.”

That was dastardly. The girl was too young, merely a babe! What in blazes was his Uncle thinking, pulling this innocent young girl into a life of military, into a war? She was not trained, had never been to the academy; she had been schooled in etiquette and languages, not warfare!

“You’re a fool,” Treize hissed, “You’re far too young.”

“Too young?” Francesca growled, spinning sharply around, “Too young? You, by far, must be the biggest hypocrite I have ever known! You were but fifteen when you first began your military training, I might remind you!”

“Yes but it is different with men and women,” Treize insisted, “You can’t be more than twelve years old!”

“Cousin,” Francesca said, her grey eyes flickering with anger, “I am seventeen years old!”

“Seventeen!” He was appalled at how little he knew of his own family. He had no idea Francesca was that old, he thought she had been younger than Dorothy.

“And as for my military training,” Francesca continued, “I have been educated since day one by my Uncle, and though I have not been to the academy, my military training is far superior to most of those imbeciles you had on your payroll.”

“My soldiers are the best in their field,” Treize said defiantly, “And I’ll not have you talking about them in this manner!”

“Your soldiers?” Francesca purred, “Don’t you mean Uncle Dermail’s soldiers?”

“Get out of my sight,” Treize growled, “I’ve no further need for you.”

Her eyes narrowed, her lips pulled back into a vicious grin. “But dear cousin, I’m not finished with the report you wanted so badly. There is another matter I think should be brought to your attention...”

“I’m not interested.”

“I think you should be. After all, it does have to do with Colonel Une.”

She had baited him, and as much as he hated to admit it, had gotten him.

“I’m listening.”

“It seems as though we have her to thank in some strange way, because over the past few months, our intelligence has learned that Tubarov was consorting with a Rebel Faction known as White Fang. Their plans were to manufacture Mobile Dolls using Gundaniam alloy.”

“Mobile Gundam Dolls...”

“Exactly. You know as well as I do, dear cousin, that if our suits cannot match against the Gundams, then they would have an even lesser chance against the enhanced Mobile Dolls. Colonel Une’s attack upon the Lunar Base, whether she intended to or not, halted this process, ultimately putting White Fang on the run and ridding Romafellar of the problematic Tubarov.”

Treize was having a hard time comprehending it all. His ex-Colonel going against his ex-best friend; it made no sense, especially given the events that had taken place before his arrest. Perhaps he had gone overboard with the accusations, perhaps she had been behind Treize the entire time and he had been too ignorant to see it. No...too jealous. For some reason, he had allowed personal wants and needs to come before his duties and it had clouded his vision. The girl was speaking somewhat highly of Colonel Une now, perhaps she was in no danger, perhaps he would get a chance to see her again, to mend their broken fences.

“Where is Colonel Une now?”

The girl gave him a sly grin, then turned on her heel to leave with the intention of not answering his question. Anger rose within him again; even if they were to use the Colonel to their own advantage now, he still had the right to know her whereabouts! Unless...unless they had simply taken her prisoner as well.

“Where is she?”

Again, no answer. Only the clicks of Francesca’s shoes against the hardwood floor. Click, click, click.

“Francesca...where is Colonel Une?”

Francesca would have succeeded in dashing through the door if Treize did not quickly grasp her by the arm. Firmly he held her, shaking her violently as he demanded one more time:

“I order you to tell me where Colonel Une is!”

The dull grey eyes, still clouded with hate and contempt, lifted to meet his urgent eyes of blue. He realized then that Francesca Catalonia was a cold shell of a person, an ice queen with no feelings, no heart, and no love for humanity. She was a void, a harpy. And then, she opened her perfectly sculpted lips, uttering the answer Treize had desired so badly:

“She’s dead.”

To be Continued...

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Sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter guys! Hopefully, I can have the other ones out sooner!