+ + +
Milliardo shook his head, in a futile deprecating mannerism directed at himself. I've probably alienated her completely … gods, that was a moronic move.
The argument was still stinging in his mind, as his hand was stinging from exercising his anger on the granite bench he was now sitting on. Admitting his feelings had been the stupidest thing he'd done in a good while. The last had been … deciding the river was safe to swim in, even when Noin told him otherwise. She's the one to listen to, he thought ruefully, remembering the scrapes he'd gotten. Now-
"Milliardo!" a high-pitched voice called. "Milliardo, where are you?"
"I'm here, Relena," he called back, standing from the bench to spot her by the camellias.
"Brother," she chirped happily. "Are you busy now?"
Busy sulking, was his mental response, but his spoken was, "No, I'm fine. Would you like to play a game?"
Relena looked slightly annoyed to see his depressed face, but her young mind rationalized it. Of course he'd be upset if Noin rejected him. But he'll get over it; she's just a girl … there'll be plenty of 'em.
"I wanted to read those books."
"Very well. Where are they?"
The irritation disappeared from her face as she smiled. "In my room," she grabbed his hand, "let's go."
+ + +
Noin concentrated hard on the target, squeezing the trigger only when she knew she would hit the mark. Missing would only cause more frustration.
The effort required of the practice kept her mind off other things she didn't want to think about, the perfect activity. It kept her alone in a secluded area of the gardens that the public rarely visited and was frequented only by the animals in the national park the palace branched off of.
A quiet crushing sound, of the rich emerald grass she was standing on, alerted her, and by instinct she whirled to bring the pistol into focus on the intruder.
"So violent for the protector of a pacifist nation?" He now was certain she had been trained to use a gun - her marksmanship in Austria had been remarkable for the strange position they were in, and if this was any indication… But how, and why, would she have been trained in a country where the very weapon she was using would be frowned upon?
The anger she'd held at bay with the exercise started to well up in her again at the insinuating remark. "I'm not Cinq's protector. I'm his."
"A difference in morals, is it?" Treize inquired, pausing a few feet away from her. Noin glared, but let her hands go to the ground, albeit still holding the gun.
"Yes." Vitriol mostly evaporating with the admission, she frowned and turned away. "If you're looking for Milliardo, he's in the southern gardens."
"How would you know?"
She looked back at him, slightly irritated. "Because he always goes there when he's upset." Noin stopped, thinking of something that caused a smirk to appear on her face. "By the river."
Treize nodded briefly, continuing with a less mocking statement. "I see. But it was you I wanted to speak with." Her frown deepened, this time in confusion.
"Why…? Why are you here?"
"Officially, to serve as senior escort for Prince Milliardo - the Austrian conference next Monday; I'm sure they've told you about it." Noin resisted the childish habit of biting her lip. She hadn't been told about it. "But also, to clear some things with you."
"Well then. 'Clear things up.'" Treize, for once, felt a strong surge of annoyance at her brusque manners.
"You know the prince will be instrumental now that the Federation has all but utterly crumbled."
"Yes…" She frowned again. "To be your perfect little saint for the Cause. An angel on earth, the Emissary." Her voice was laced with biting sarcasm.
"Precisely." He related with the acid in her tone, and willingly forgave it in lieu of what he was to say. "Saints cannot have affairs with those of a lower station."
Noin sighed almost imperceptibly, and nodded. "I understand. I'm willing to leave." Treize was silently glad she wasn't being difficult, and began to walk away with the matter cleared. She must truly love him, and this country's people… He halted mid-step, turning back and plucking the pistol from her hand.
"One last thing, Captain…" She watched him with a tired expression, waiting for his statement. He couldn't blame her. "Neither a grandiose exit nor shameful bow into oblivion is necessary."
The gun fell with a soft thump to the grass, now unloaded, as Treize walked away.
+ + +
Milliardo glanced sidelong at his baby sister, taking advantage of her evident distraction to skip a handful of pages in the book he was reading out loud. It was an old game.
"The witch was exiled; the kingdom rejoiced, and the prince and the servant girl lived happily ever after." He could have bitten his tongue off for all the sap in the fairy tale - however, that was what eleven-year-old girls liked, he supposed. Except ... Noin never had.
"You read it wrong," Relena informed him, confused rather than annoyed. She didn't appear to notice the skipped pages. "It was the princess and servant boy."
Milliardo blinked, verifying her words against the book. He knew the story by heart from so many repeated readings; how could he have misread it? "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Read the one about Anarkali* next," Relena pleaded. He frowned as his eyes fell on the Pakistani folktale's cover. No, not that one …
"Why, because Anarkali died, and the prince had to stay to rule the empire?" she asked innocently. "Real life doesn't always have happy endings. That's why I like it." Maybe it will teach him something. Scaring him is worth it …
He hesitated as he picked up the book, almost afraid of its gilded pages and leather cover. Noin is no Anarkali … and it would never come to anything like that. Would it?
A loud thump interrupted, and he mentally traced the sound to Noin's room down the hall. The diversion was welcome; Milliardo hurried out of the room without so much as an "excuse me."
+ + +
Noin sidestepped a crashing piece of luggage from her closet, grimacing at the offending object. She hadn't taken out the suitcase in a solid two years; it had taken her fifteen minutes just to find it. Thirty seconds found a good deal of her possessions inside it, deftly placed in from long practice in packing quickly.
"Noin?"
The voice nearly made her drop the books she was starting to stuff into the suitcase. She straightened from her bent position over it, turning to look at Milliardo with a neutral expression.
"Yes?"
"The conference isn't for another five days."
"I'm not packing for the conference. I wasn't even invited. And you knew it."
"No, I didn't." His voice was strained, not willing to jump to conclusions.
"Then you're more in the dark than I am." She turned away, focusing on packing closely the neatly folded clothing. Noin was organized enough that she could pack nine years of her life in only an hour.
"Where are you going?" Milliardo asked, his tone nearing demand. He set an insisting hand over her wrist, restricting her movement. She glanced up, a falsified glare being instinctively curbed.
"Italy. Home."
"Yesterday … yesterday, you told me Cinq was your home."
Noin looked upset, keeping her face away from him and pulling her wrist away sharply. "Things have changed."
"In twenty-four hours, what the hell could have happened that would make you up and leave to a country you haven't been to in two years?" Milliardo was speaking in a heated whisper.
Her down-turned glance fell upon the book still in his hands.
"Anarkali." She laughed bitterly, ignoring his question. "How appropriate. Wasn't she buried alive as punishment?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"It's … family issues. I've been ignoring them, but now I can't."
"You should have told us. We can help."
"No. You can't."
"Why can't we? Surely there has to be something we can do…"
"You know what you can do?" Noin straightened, expression now cold rather than neutral. "You can leave me alone. I'm going to hand in my resignation tomorrow."
"Resignation?" he demanded. "Since when-"
"Captain!" a slightly frightened voice yelled. Noin and Milliardo whirled to face Relena, standing nervously in the doorway. "Captain. The Queen wants to speak to you … now."
"Relena, give us a moment," Milliardo said, turning back to Noin.
"She said it was important."
Noin walked away from him without looking back.
+ + +
Katerina felt vaguely guilty about what she was going to do. Of course, the moment the nebulous emotion appeared, she rationalized it. Milliardo was too dependent on her, cared too much for her - and the reverse was not true from Katerina's vantage. Now that these rumors had surfaced, their odd relationship could no longer be considered innocuous.
The captain was standing in front of her, in the same hallway that had witnessed so many things. Noin wasn't in uniform - an oddity in itself. Katerina decided not to question it.
"Lucrezia Noin … I'm afraid I have some bad news." Katerina rose stiffly from her throne, walking down to the floor - wanting to keep Noin and herself at the same level, artificial as it was.
Noin nodded, remaining quiet. "I'm afraid I have to dismiss you. You'll be welcome to take as much time as you need to find a new job; I don't mean to turn you out…" Katerina said in a very unqueenly rush.
"No, my Queen; I can leave immediately. My family wants me to return to Italy." Noin forced a smile. "This is just convenient. If you wish to keep things quiet, I can send my resignation from there. I intended to give it to you tomorrow."
"If that would be good for you." The queen looked apologetic. She really did want only the best for everyone. "You truly don't have a problem?"
"No, I don't have a problem. But if you'd rather, please don't tell Milliardo a dismissal played any part of this."
"Why don't you want him to know?" Katerina would be only too pleased to oblige, but she wondered why Noin would protect the family as well. Perhaps it wasn't the family, only him…
Noin smiled sadly. "I've loved serving here, but now … I have to leave."
I'm sorry, Milliardo.
+ + +
* Anarkali is indeed a common Pakistani folktale. I happened upon it by accident. ^_~