The Sank Kingdom, AC 182

When the adults arrived back at the Peacecraft castle, they found the two little boys playing quietly in Milliardo's room. It surprised Alexei and Nathalie, who hadn't realized their six year old was capable of being quiet. As Nathalie softly observed to Katerina as they watched their sons, "It would seem Milliardo is a good influence on him."

A half second later, as the children became aware that they weren't alone, Petyr squealed, "Mama!" Nathalie observed with some amusement that Milliardo winced at the piercing squeal, but he made no comment. Instead, he quietly rose to his feet, his solemn blue eyes focused on his own parents.

"Relena is in Natasha's room. Pagan said that she was sleeping. . .Natasha, I mean, so we had to be quiet," the young prince explained in a soft voice. When Katerina frowned, Milliardo added, "Pagan also said that Relena had a nightmare, and she went to Natasha." Nathalie blinked, surprised that the small princess felt so comfortable with her daughter. They, after all, only knew each other for a few weeks.

"I'll go wake them. . .I have a gown I want to give to Natasha for tomorrow's ball. Milliardo, darling, why don't you and Petyr clean up your toys, then get ready for dinner?" Katerina suggested, running her fingers through her son's blond curls. The child bobbed his head obediently and Katerina knelt, kissing the top of his head.

"Katerina, it is hardly necessary for you to do this. I. . ." Nathalie began as she and the younger woman left the room together. The words trailed off, as Katerina turned to look at her. Her facial expression hadn't changed at all, but her eyes had. Nathalie was reminded that Katerina wasn't always a queen. Yes, her family was an ancient Austrian family. . .but it lost its money several generations previously. Katerina grew up with only the prestige of her family name, and she learned how to survive. While Raoul passed along his desire for peace to his son, Katerina's gift to Milliardo's personality was her fierce determination.

"Nathalie, Natasha is my friend. I have never forgotten that while the other students were making fun of my sister, it was Natasha who looked after her. When Annika died, she asked me to look after Natasha, as Natasha looked after her. I will not break that promise to my sister," Katerina said in a quiet voice.

Nathalie answered softly, "I would not ask you to do that, your Majesty. I only wanted you to understand that you don't need to make a fuss over my daughter. I understand she is your friend, but I fear that you will spoil her with all of this attention." The blue fire in Katerina's eyes grew even icier.

However, she didn't answer. She merely walked down the hall to Natasha's room. Nathalie closed her eyes with a deep sigh. As ever, the mention of the queen's younger sister, dead these nine years, made her feel ashamed. Would the shame never go away? The sick feeling which always accompanied the memory of her husband's reunion with Raoul Peacecraft?

She objected to her five year old daughter befriending the sickly Annika when the child arrived at her boarding school eleven years earlier. God only knew what kind of germs the child was carrying. It simply wasn't seemly for her to befriend a seven year old girl with a mysterious ailment. These things simply weren't done. And Alexei wasn't much help either, mumbling about work all the time. But Tasha was fiercely determined that the frail girl would not be alone. Did she know then that Annika was dying? Nathalie didn't know.

What she did know was the five year old's kindness was to be repaid in a most unexpected way. Annika died two years after her arrival at the boarding school. . .died at home, in her older sister Katerina's arms. The seventeen year old just caught the idea of Raoul Peacecraft, an old friend of Nathalie's husband.

It was Katerina's wish to marry while her sister lived, so Annika could be in the wedding. But this wasn't to be. So, a year after Annika's death, the eight year old Natasha was a bridesmaid in a royal wedding at Katerina's insistence. Annika, with her death, and the promise she extracted from her sister, brought two old friends together. She also created a lasting friendship between the sister she was given at birth, and the sister she found in the boarding school. She changed the Peacecraft and Galinov families in one other way. Annika forced Nathalie to confront the fear of losing a child.

Since that time, since Annika's death, and her later marriage to Raoul, Katerina never lost touch with Natasha. She sent pictures of Milliardo and Relena regularly, and encouraged Natasha to confide in her. Perhaps understanding that Natasha wasn't like other girls? That she needed a queen as a confidante? Nathalie didn't know.

But there were times when she resented the young queen for her place in Natasha's life. A place which belonged, by rights, to Nathalie. But when Nathalie tried to end the friendship between Annika and Natasha, she caused a rift with her daughter. That healed, somewhat, with the birth of Petyr. But her daughter, for all her gentleness, could be unforgiving. Or maybe Nathalie hadn't forgiven herself. She only knew that she longed to reach out to her daughter. . . she just didn't know how. Didn't know if it was possible. But she resented Katerina. She resented her for Natasha's obvious affection for her. She resented her for marrying for love.

Alexei was a good father, a good provider, treated her well. But she didn't love him. He didn't love her. And no matter how many years they had together, that would never change. Nathalie once tried to take a lover. She hadn't loved him, either. She felt so empty inside. And it seemed so unfair that Katerina Peacecraft had everything she ever wanted.

She saw Katerina slip into her daughter's room, heard the young queen murmuring something to Natasha. Heard Natasha's sleepy laughter. It occurred to her, for a moment, that she and her husband were a great deal alike. They both loved their children, so much. And yet, they could only show affection to their son. Why? Natasha wasn't a cold girl. She was quiet, yes, but she wasn't cold. Why couldn't Nathalie reach out to her daughter? Why couldn't Alexei? Her resentment against Katerina faded, leaving only anger with herself and her husband in its place. Katerina never hesitated to show Natasha affection, and Natasha responded.

//If we lose our daughter,// Nathalie thought, //we only have ourselves to blame. But that will not happen. I will not lose my daughter. I don't know yet how I will do it, but I will find a way to reach out to her. The ball tomorrow night is a good time to do that. My sweet, sweet Tasha.//

She leaned against the doorjam, watching as her daughter talked with Katerina. Natasha brushed her dark hair back from her eyes, stretching cautiously, trying not to wake up the sleeping child beside her. She seemed. . .less guarded. More at ease. She shouldn't be on her guard around her parents. Nathalie thought of her own parents, remembered how distant they were. Her parents never saw their grandchildren. Never held Petyr, never saw Natasha's rare but brilliant smile. //No,// she thought, //I will not become my mother. I will not lose my daughter. Sweet Tasha, forgive me. . .please, please forgive me.//

The Great Divide, AC 196

It was growing steadily more apparent to Treize Khushrenada that more lives were ruined and lost on the day the Sank Kingdom fell than he ever realized. More than just Milliardo and his family. He asked hoarsely, "How long? How long before the attack?" He never saw war like this before. Never seen. . .the world like this before. He didn't know if it was because he was watching from a distance. . .or because of something else.

His companion said softly, "The attack will take place the morning after the ball. I will not bore you with the ball. Natasha told the king of her roommate's warning, explaining her own foreboding. She kept her promise." Treize nodded. Yes. He expected that. His companion continued, "As ye've probably realized, Milliardo had a crush on Natasha. That infatuation was heightened during the ball. He asked her to dance, after his father's dance with her. He quickly realized that they had a minor problem. . .he was a good bit shorter than she was. She settled the problem by swinging him into her arms and settling him on her hip."

Treize laughed, quite unexpectedly, as he pictured this sight. His companion grinned and continued, "The rest of the time before the attack was spent with the two families discussing what came next. Oh yes. I was incorrect about the ball. There are two incidents which ye must witness. First, however, let us see about Ciara."

The screen, which was dark after the image of Nathalie faded away, now lit up with Ciara. The Gundam pilots helped her find her father. But as the man finished his business, Trowa returned. He said, "I wanted to speak with you alone. I know what you meant. The man whom you spoke of, he isn't your uncle at all. He's Zechs Merquise." Ciara went white and she looked around wildly. Trowa said softly, "It's all right. I didn't tell the others. I don't know how he survived, and I don't care. It's not important. Just. . .make sure I'm the only one who figures it out. You're not very good at deception. If many people realize he's still alive. . ."

"I know. Please. Don't tell your friends. They might want to kill him, and we've had to convince him that he doesn't deserve to die. He still doesn't believe he should be alive, after all the things he did wrong. But if he should die for what he did wrong, then what about everyone else? What about me?" Ciara asked.

Trowa sighed and answered, "I can only tell you what I believe. Zechs Merquise still has people who care about him. A family. As long as he has that, he shouldn't give up. Cathy. . . she's like my sister. That's why I was fighting. My home, my family. I won't tell anyone that Zechs is still alive. Everyone deserves a second chance. And in the end, he helped us to destroy Libra before it could destroy earth. All right?"

"All right. Thank you, Trowa," Ciara said softly, her blue gray eyes shining with relief. The young man smiled in response, and Ciara added, "I. . .I wanted to thank you again. For helping me. In the arcade. I don't know what I would have done, if you and the others hadn't helped me." Trowa's only answer was a smile.

Then, the girl's father was returning and Trowa said in a voice pitched to carry, "Your uncle Zachary is very lucky to have you, Ciara Malloy. I hope he knows that. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you all as his family." Ciara beamed in response and Trowa smiled again, then walked away. Treize never heard so much out of Zero-three. Then again, perhaps he only spoke when he judged necessary. And perhaps, now was necessary.

Sank Kingdom, AC 182

Christina Rogers watched in amusement as the dark-haired teenager, Natasha Galinova, swept Prince Milliardo into her arms, settling him on her hip. The twenty-eight year old Canadian doctor muttered, "I LIKE that girl." She didn't realize she wasn't alone until she heard the low chuckle at her side. She looked to her right, to find Katerina Peacecraft.

"She has that effect, I've found. She's won Milliardo's heart now. For the rest of his life, he will remember this ball, and the sweet young woman who ignored propriety so he could dance with an adult," Katerina replied. She smiled at the blonde doctor, adding, "So, Kit, how are you finding your first official ball? I wasn't sure if I could ever convince you to come." Kit rolled her eyes, and Katerina laughed, adding, "Oh, Kit. I hope you never change."

"Now, that would be boring. And from what your husband was telling me earlier, Lady Natasha won Milliardo's heart weeks ago. And Rina, please. . .why did you saddle that poor child with such a dreadful name? You know it will be butchered a thousand ways by the time he reaches twenty!" Kit exclaimed.

"I know," Katerina answered with a sigh, "I know, and I told Raoul that. I wanted 'Sebastian,' but his father insisted. 'Milliardo' was the name of a man who died saving his life. . .Raoul's, that is, a man whom Raoul doesn't even remember. But, we did give him the more. . . attractive second name of 'Julian,' which is what I often call him."

"Well, that's somewhat better. Still, 'Milliardo.' That poor child. I know how children tease, and he will get a great deal of teasing when he starts playing with other children. How is Petyr handling it? I know he's the same age as your boy, and he's a little more rambunctious. More like Relena, actually," Kit observed. She helped to deliver both royal children, and she felt no compunction about sharing her thoughts with the mother, queen or not.

"He couldn't pronounce 'Milliardo,' so I told him to use 'Julian,' instead. It's so funny, Kit. He'll run around the castle, shrieking either, 'Tasha, Tasha, Tasha,' or 'Julian, Julian, Julian.' I think Pagan has an eternal headache now as a result, but he'll live. Enough. . .the dance is almost over, would you like to meet Tasha?" Rina asked.

"Love to," the Canadian answered, then added with a mischievous grin, "And this ball is nice, but it's nowhere near as exciting as the last one I attended." Katerina responded with the rather unqueenly action of sticking her tongue out at the older woman. Kit laughed. . .she lived in the Sank Kingdom for eight years, ever since she graduated from college. She went to medical school here.

And, six years earlier, on a night much like tonight, she delivered the infant prince. Katerina went into labor during a ball. Kit was quite sure none of the other guests would ever forget that ball, either. It wasn't every day that one watched one's queen giving birth. Raoul was too concerned with his wife and child's well-being to shoo anyone away, and Kit's worry was for Rina and the baby.

But the night cemented the regard in which the queen was held. Many common people were at that ball, and watching the queen give birth to her son, as any woman would, endeared her to them. Kit shook her head in amazement. She would have sworn the event would have turned people against Katerina. That was why she was a gynecologist, instead of a psychiatrist. Kit shook her head and walked along as Katerina drew her over to meet Natasha Galinova.

The Great Divide, AC 196

"Why is she important?" Treize asked in confusion. He heard of Kit Rogers, but didn't know she played into this tragedy. After that day, Treize heard her name for the first time. She was part of the Alliance, as a doctor. If memory served, she was Sally Po's mentor.

"Because she was there on the day of the attack. You see, Kit was being considered for the position of the queen's personal physician. That was why she was at the ball that night. The king wanted to speak with her personally about it, to see how she would feel about it. Rather than travel back to the city that night, she remained overnight in the castle, as an honored guest of the king and queen," his companion replied.

"If she was a friend to them, why did she join the Alliance? Milliardo did so, to strike back against those who took his family away from him. But he was a child at the time. She was not," Treize asked, growing somewhat confused. The introduction of Kit Rogers threw everything out of focus.

"Because it was a way to keep watch over the prince. But that is what is to come. Now, Treize Khushrenada, it is time, and long past time, for you to witness what happened that day. What turned a six year old prince into the boy who was to become the Lightning Count. What turned Milliardo Peacecraft, the young scion of a peace-loving family, into Zechs Merquise, a brilliant ace pilot," his companion intoned. Almost again his will, Treize turned his attention back to the screen. The once-dark screen lightened, until he could see the outline of the castle. It was early morning, he realized. . .

The Sank Kingdom, AC 182

In the years after that day of blood and fire, Natasha Galinova would never know what woke her. The previous night was the most wonderful of her life. Dancing with the king, with her father, with the little prince. She met Dr. Christina Rogers, who delivered both Milliardo and Relena. And, her dance with Milliardo kept her out of the clutches of Duke Dermail.

Natasha giggled to herself as she slipped under the covers. She learned that when Duke Dermail saw her put the six year old prince on her hip, he decided that she wasn't worth his notice. 'Boo-hoo,' Natasha told Rina, who laughed outright. There were times when Rina laughed, when she reminded Natasha of Annika. The memory of her lost friend eased to a dull throb when she thought of Annika. Everyone made such a big deal about her friendship with the sick little girl. . .why did no one understand? Annika needed Natasha. . .and, Natasha needed Annika. In her own way, Natasha was just as much of an outcast as Annika was.

At least, Natasha was an outcast before Beatriz entered her life. Beatriz helped to take away some of the pain of losing Annika. Only six months older than Natasha, Beatriz was unexpected in more ways than one. While she was Spanish, Beatriz had blonde hair and blue eyes. Most of the girls in the school didn't know that there were fair Spaniards. //As Madame Beaudouin once said,// Natasha thought sleepily, one must learn something new every day. Some of the other girls laughed at her for saying that. //Of course,// the Russian girl decided, //I should tell Beatriz about the ball. She would like that.//

Telling Beatriz about the ball was the last thing which Natasha thought as she drifted off to sleep. But what she thought, when she awoke, was, 'something is terribly wrong.' She wasn't sure why she felt that way, why it was so strong. But Natasha was never one to ignore her instincts. Right now, they were screaming at her to get up. This time, she was awakening alone, since Relena was still in her room.

Natasha pushed herself out of bed, easing her feet into a pair of slippers, then pulled on her robe. She moved slowly out of her room, tightening the belt around her waist, and first checked on the two little boys. Both Milliardo and Petyr were asleep, she was relieved to see. Her next stop was Relena's room, and the little princess was sound asleep as well. So the children were all right.

Her journey took her downstairs. Not even the kitchen staff was awake, but breakfast didn't begin until eight most mornings. According to her clock, it was just past five. She padded through the corridors of the palace, passing the king's private room, when she heard a voice inside the door. Natasha stood stock-still. It was the king, but who was with him?

Working up her courage, as she did to tell him about Beatriz's warning, Natasha forced herself to knock on the door. It swung open, revealing a very haggard looking king. Natasha immediately apologized, feeling her face turn scarlet with embarrassment. Oh, her parents would be furious with her about this! They still hadn't found out about her eavesdropping on her father's conversation with the king recently, but she was sure they would eventually

But Raoul Peacecraft didn't seem angry with her. In fact, he smiled wearily, saying, "Burning the midnight oil is a common failing in my family. I took your warning last night more seriously than you realized, young Natasha. I doubt if you realized what a chance you were taking, passing along your friend's warning. It's for that reason, I want you to have something."

He put his hand on her shoulder, leading her into his study, and went on, "For many weeks, I've sensed something coming. I'm not like you, Natasha. I haven't your sense for what's to come. Yes, dear child, I do know about that sense you have. But my instinct comes from being a warrior. Oh, don't look so surprised. I fought in my share of wars, and grew to hate it as much as my father had."

He sighed and motioned for her to sit down. Once she was seated on his davenport, the king sat down in his chair, saying, "I have no idea where to begin, little one. The important thing, though, is that you survive whatever happens. My survival isn't as important as yours, and your brother's, and that of my children. You are the future. You must survive."

"You frighten me, your Majesty, with talk such as this," Natasha said nervously, and the king smiled wearily. He looked. . .old. He was the same age as her father, but right now, he seemed decades older. He brushed a lock of his long white hair back from his eyes. Ice blue eyes, just like Milliardo's.

"Forgive me, little one. But I have need of you. I have need of your strength and your youth. Last night, after our conversation, I realized that there was much I must tell my son. I want you to give this to him, Tasha," the king replied. Natasha frowned. She was growing more and confused by the moment. Give what to Milliardo? What was the king talking about? Why was he saying these things? And why was he frightening her so terribly?

Raoul Peacecraft drew himself to his full height and walked to his desk. Natasha admired that desk many times, in the few times she came in here. But now, she feared that very same desk. When he turned back to Natasha, he held a small diskette in his hand. He walked to Natasha and took her wrist, placing the diskette in her hand. He closed her fingers over it, saying, "This, my dear, is my message to my son. He will need to hear it. I entrust it, to you."

He started to say more, but it was then that the earth trembled under their feet. Natasha cried out, unable to stop the scream that fought its way up from her throat, even as a devastating noise threatened to shatter her eardrums. The shaking of the earth forced her off-balance, but Raoul Peacecraft drew her into his arms, protecting her.

Then he released her, whispering, "Dear God, it's begun. Natasha Alexeya, give me your word that you will give that diskette to my son. Give me your word of honor that you will do what you can to protect my family!" Natasha barely had time to choke out an affirmative, before the earth shook again. It was enough for the king, who pushed her from the room, gasping, 'Then go, little Natasha, go to my children! I must see to my queen! Damn you! Damn you!" Natasha stumbled from the room, uncertain whom he was damning. But she had no further time to wonder about it, for she heard a child screaming.

"RELENA!" Milliardo cried out, and Natasha forced herself to run upstairs as the door burst open behind her. She spared only a glance behind her as she raced up the stairs to find the children, but that mere glance made her blood run cold. Men. In uniform. Uniforms which did not belong to the Sank Kingdom.

//Oh God help us all,// Natasha thought, forcing her legs to move faster. It seemed as her feet were stuck in mud. The little blond prince was out of his room, his blue eyes wide, and Natasha swept him into her arms, before the soldiers below could see him, before he could scream his sister's name again. Milliardo clung to her, his small body trembling in her arms. Natasha looked around for a hiding place. . .where, where, where? She could hear the soldiers, inside the castle. Shots ringing out, accompanied by screams. Milliardo trembling in her arms.

And then, Natasha saw it. The table. Oh, blessed, blessed table. Two days earlier, Katerina showed her a secret passage. Annika and Natasha often dreamed of secret passages and tunnels in their daydreams together. They seemed so mysterious. Perhaps remembering those childish dreams from her sister's last days, Rina showed Natasha one of the many secret passages in the castle.

Whatever her reason, Natasha blessed her friend for the tour. She carried Milliardo to the entrance, under the table, and scooted them both into safety. Behind them, she heard Senator Eric Dorlian exclaim, "For the love of God, she's my daughter. . .she's frightened enough, don't frighten her more! Renata, take her!" Natasha spared another look. . .Eric and Renata Dorlian were confronted by several soldiers. A weeping Relena was cradled against Eric's body, and he glanced over at Natasha and Milliardo's hiding place.

Knowing that if she saw her brother, Relena would give them away, Natasha interposed her body between the siblings as Relena was passed from Eric to Renata. The danger was past, and Natasha turned to Milliardo, murmuring, "This tunnel will take you to safety. Do not go outside, until you hear me knock. The password is, 'the big tree.' Do you understand me?" Milliardo bobbed his head, and Natasha continued, "I will meet you there. BE CAREFUL!"

"I will, Lady Natasha. Look after my sister. Mama and Father, are they all right?" Milliardo whispered and Natasha bobbed her head with a smile. The little boy sighed with relief, then surprised the teenager with a brief, fierce hug. With practiced ease, he crawled through the small door, leaving Natasha to wonder how long he knew about it.

But she had other things on her mind at the moment. She ran to Milliardo's room. Petyr was nowhere to be found. Natasha fought her terror. Oh, God, where was he? Her parents would never forgive her if something happened to Petyr. . .where could he be? And then she heard it. A strangled sob, someone trying not to cry. Natasha wheeled around and dropped to one knee beside her brother's bed. She lifted the blanket, to find him staring at her. He whimpered when he saw her and Natasha reached out to him. Petyr almost tackled her, sobbing.

Natasha just held him, rocking him back and forth. He couldn't even speak, he was crying too hard. They were sitting there like that when Natasha heard footsteps behind her. Already regretting the instinct which made her comfort her brother, rather than taking him to find Milliardo, Natasha half-turned. She was shielding her brother with her own body, but she didn't know if that would be enough to protect him.

But it was their parents, and Petyr jumped out from behind her, throwing himself into their mother's arms. Natasha got to her feet, saying, "Senator Dorlian has Relena. . .he kept the soldiers from killing her. I got Milliardo into a secret passageway, leading out of the castle, and told him to wait for me."

"Good girl. I assume you set up a password with him?" her father asked and Natasha bobbed her head. Yet another reminder of Annika. The passwords. . .yet another game, something that seemed so mysterious and so forbidden. The sort of things which enchanted small girls. Her father smiled unexpectedly and said, "I thought as much. We'll retrieve Milliardo, while you and Petyr lead the soldiers away."

Natasha looked at her parents doubtfully. She could lead the soldiers away, but why Petyr? Her mother said, "Darling, listen. Milliardo is worth more to the soldiers alive than dead. I want you to dress Petyr in one of Milliardo's outfits. They would never shoot a six year old child. The world would never forgive them."

"Raoul is searching for Katerina. . .when I passed him, he told me to look after the children. Relena is in good hands for now, so Milliardo is our top priority," her father added.

Natasha looked at her father, but it was Petyr who said, "I wanna!" Natasha's eyes flickered to her brother, and she sighed. He was so much like her at six, the Natasha Galinova who emerged when she was with Annika. This would have been the exact kind of thing which would have appealed to Natasha when she was her brother's age.

"Oh, very well. Father, the password I gave Milliardo was 'the big tree.' You know the one. Where you found the four of us last week," Natasha told her father. She saw a smile flicker across her father's face at the mention. He found them all right. . .found all four of them asleep under the big tree, the royal siblings with their heads on Natasha's lap, and Petyr's head resting on her shoulder.

"Very well, 'the big tree' it is, then. Good luck. . .and we'll meet you at that big tree in a half hour," her father said. Their mother put Petyr on the ground, and Natasha began rooting around in Milliardo's drawers, feeling like a thief. But if they were to pull this off, she had to have something which belonged to him. Petyr was a little taller than Milliardo, but at a distance, no one would really notice.

Petyr was already recovering from his fright, and he looked around as well, offering suggestions. Natasha had an idea what she was looking for, though. . .a pair of pajamas. They weren't that much different from the pajamas which Petyr wore. . .it wasn't like Katerina wanted the Sank symbol embroidered on her children's clothes.

Her friend always believed that sort of display was foolish, a thought which Natasha shared. . .but it made her search a little more difficult. However, after a few moments, she found exactly what she was looking for. As she helped her brother into his borrowed clothes, she could only hope that her parents were right. . .that this would work. Natasha stepped back, eyeing her little brother. His reddish-brown hair was tousled, as a little boy's hair should be. Even a little prince. Natasha hugged him briefly, then took his hand. It was time they played decoy.

The Great Divide, AC 196

"And so, that was how the children of Raoul Peacecraft were separated. Eric Dorlian heard Relena screaming in her room, awakened by the bombings. When confronted by the soldiers, he claimed that she was his daughter. If they knew, the soldiers would have killed the little girl. . .never mind that she was only three years old," the man said quietly as they watched Natasha and Petyr leave the room.

"Was there no way for the ambassador and his wife to get Relena? I know they were looking for Milliardo, but. . . And since he didn't grow up as part of their family, they obviously didn't find him. What happened? I remember Milliardo from his early childhood. If Natasha told him not to leave the tunnel without hearing from her, or hearing the password, he would not. What happened?" Treize asked.

"The soldiers set fires. One of the fires found its way into the tunnel. Milliardo had no choice. . .he had to leave the safety of the tunnel. And once he was in the open air, he. . .he started doing what he does best. Trying to help people. Ended up wandering away from the castle," the other young man replied. Treize closed his eyes, able to see this happening very well. His companion added, "Open yer eyes, General. This isn't over yet." There was a bitterness in his voice, and Treize opened his eyes to stare at the other man. There was hatred burning in the bright blue eyes, as the man continued, "This is not finished yet."

Reluctantly, for he had an idea what would happen, Treize focused on the image of the brother and sister. By now, the fire was moving from room to room. . .

The Sank Kingdom, AC 182

As she promised, Natasha led the soldiers away from her parents and Milliardo. Always keeping Petyr a little ahead of her, always making sure that her own slight body stood between him and the soldiers. Always giving the soldiers just enough of a glimpse to make them believe that the prince was with her.

But she forgot about the side. She forgot that there were other angles from which one could shoot. But she remembered very quickly when she felt something swift burn her thigh, caressing both cloth and skin. . .before hurtling into her younger brother's back. The force of the bullet sent him stumbling forward, and at first, Natasha didn't realize what happened. Until she heard the echoing shot. Until she saw the blood on her brother's back.

Natasha nearly tripped over her feet, and succeeded in falling to her knees. She screamed her brother's name as she dragged herself to his side and turned him over. He was staring at her, his blue eyes filled with pain and terror. Petyr whimpered, "It hurts. Tasha, it hurts, ma. . ." His small body convulsed in her arms and he began coughing. The bullet struck a lung, and even now, blood was pouring into the afflicted organ.

But Natasha didn't know this. She only knew that her beloved brother was hurt, that he needed her, that she couldn't let him down. She took off her bathrobe and tore a sleeve from her father's gift to her the previous Christmas. She wadded it up, pressing it against the wound in Petyr's back, then tied the sash around him, to keep it in place. All the wall, talking to her brother, soothing him, despite the tears which rolled down her cheeks.

It was too late, of course. But Natasha didn't know that. Not until she lifted him into her arms once more, and saw the glassy look in his eyes. She whispered, "Petyr? Focus on me, little love. . .look at me, Petyr. Petyr? Little one?" As if from a distance, she heard the whine in her voice as she pleaded with her brother to look at her. But Petyr wasn't looking at anything. Petyr was dead. Petyr died as she struggled to save his life with just the sleeve torn from her robe and the sash. Natasha couldn't accept that, though. Petyr was six years old. He was a laughing, exuberant, mischievous little boy with an abundance of energy.

He couldn't be dead. He was only six years old. Six year old boys didn't get shot in the back. That was ridiculous. How could anyone who called themselves a soldier shoot a six year old? Especially without calling out a warning first. No. That. . .No, that wasn't possible. And yet, no matter how much Natasha tried, Petyr's blue eyes remained fixed on the sky, and his breath didn't warm her cheek. He was dead. Her little brother was dead. One moment, he was running in front of her, leading the soldiers away from the real prince. . .and now he was dead.

As Natasha at last accepted this, something deep within her broke. Shattered into a thousand pieces. The tears she never before allowed herself to cry now emerged, long-buried grief exploded in one single scream, a scream which seemed too great from the dark-haired sixteen year old girl. The girl on her knees in the grass, cradling a small form against her body. But it did come from her, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No, no, no, oh no!" She rocked the child in her arms, burying her face in his reddish-brown hair. Her screams went unheard. There were too many other screams that day.

The Great Divide, AC 196

Treize stared at the heart-rending sight. . .the sixteen year old girl on her knees, cradling that still, small body against her. He wanted to look away from that horrific grief, wanted to close his ears against the broken screams which emerged from Natasha's throat. But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away. Nor could he look at the faces of the two. . . beasts. . .who just shot down that little boy. They didn't deserve to be called soldiers, or warriors, not when they shot at little boys. Children.

His companion said in a dead voice, "They still don't know how many people died that day. Not even Kit Rogers, a physician, could keep a total of how many people she pronounced dead. The soldiers wouldn't allow them to keep a running total. It was as if they wanted to deny that the Sank Kingdom, that the Peacecraft family and those who believed in them, served them, loved them, ever existed."

The other young man turned to looked at Treize, continuing in a hoarse voice, "Lives were lost that day, General Khushrenada. Lives were lost, families were torn asunder, dreams were shattered. And two children, Natasha Galinova and Milliardo Peacecraft, would have their very identities taken from them. It was the only way Milliardo could survive. . .the only way Natasha could heal."

He shook his head, sighing, "And for fourteen years, I've watched over them both. Natasha and Julian. Praying that one day, I could do something to take away their pain. But there is nothing I can do. There never has been. No matter how much I pray, no matter how much I hope, there is nothing I can do."

Julian. That was Queen Katerina's special name for Milliardo. And the name she allowed Petyr Galinov to call her son, because the diplomat's small son couldn't wrap his tongue around Milliardo. Treize finally understand. He said quietly, "You are Petyr Galinov. Brother of Natasha, son of Alexei and Nathalie."

"I am," his newly-named companion answered shortly. Treize nodded. Things were falling into place. Including Petyr's hostility. He probably realized years earlier that the Romefellar Foundation had a hand in the destruction of the Sank Kingdom, and by extension, Petyr's own death. He also knew that Treize was an official of the Romefellar Foundation. Guilt by association, even though Treize was only eleven at the time of the tragedy.

"So, you are Russian. Why then, in the time I have been here, have you spoken with a Scottish accent?" Treize asked. For the first time since witnessing the child's death, Petyr looked at him, contempt written plainly in the bright blue eyes. Contempt. Hatred. Treize accepted them all, now understanding the source.

"Because I'm bloody well dead, ye idiot, and I can damn well be whatever I choose, that's why!" Petyr snarled. Treize blinked. He saw. He thought. Petyr brought his anger under control and added, "And ye don't see anythin' yet, General. Ye only think ye do. There is still much for ye to learn. So watch and learn, General. Watch and learn." Treize reluctantly turned his eyes back to the screen. But he was comprehending already what Petyr wanted him to learn. However, out of respect for what was taken from Petyr, he watched.

Sank Kingdom, AC 182

She carried him to the big tree he loved so much, the tree he climbed with Milliardo, daring the little prince to climb higher and higher. She didn't know what else to do with Petyr's body. She hated leaving him here, but it wouldn't be safe inside either. And so Natasha tenderly placed her little brother under his special tree, folding his small hands over his heart.

She had to cover him up. Had to cover him, protect him from prying eyes. And animals. Natasha wasn't thinking rationally. There were no animals in this part of the Sank Kingdom, and even covering him up wouldn't be much protection against the human animals who took his life. But still, she pulled off the ruined bathrobe. . .it would be enough to cover him. As she kissed his forehead one last time, then covered him up, Natasha's attention was caught by a scream, a scream which was cut off by a gunshot.

"Forgive me," she whispered to her brother, then headed backward the castle. It sounded like the general area of the tunnels, and she feared for Milliardo. What if her parents were killed as well? Someone had to take care of Milliardo. But it wasn't Milliardo. . .as Natasha drew closer to the castle, three figures in uniform dragged out a third.

Natasha quickly hid, her eyes darting about. Where was Mother? Father? Milliardo? Then she looked back at the hostage, and gasped. It wasn't just any hostage. It was the king himself. He said in a clear voice, "Do with me what you will. My children are safe."

"Oh, we'll see about that, my dear King. My soldiers tell me both of your brats are dead. . .as you soon will be along with your queen. Such a high price to pay, Raoul, for an ideal. I'm told that you swore to bring peace to your kingdom and the world over the cradle of your son. What a pity, neither he nor you will see it," a man said mockingly.

Natasha swallowed hard, instantly fearing this new threat. He didn't look familiar, but the king obviously recognized him. He rasped, "And what of you? What would you do to ensure your son's future? Can you truly tell me that you wish him to grow up as we did, Stefan? To see the things we did?"

"Oh, he will not," said the velvety tones of their assailant, "nor will my brother. Father is weak, like you, but I am not. And Treize will not be weak, either. Already, I teach him to love the Mobile Suits. I teach him the glory in war, the beauty of battle. I would have brought him here today, but he is young yet."

Now Natasha knew the identity of the man who attacked. The man who ordered the death of the prince and princess. The man who, with his word, signed the death warrant of her little brother. Stefan Khushrenada. She committed his face to memory and silently swore that one day, he would pay. And then she said a silent prayer of deliverance for his innocent younger brother.

"Then God help that poor child, for one day, your brother and my son will face each other in battle," King Raoul answered quietly. Stefan laughed aloud, and Raoul continued in that quiet, intense voice, "You laugh now, Stefan. You tell me that my son is dead. I tell you, I knew the moment of his birth. I will know the moment of his death. *And Milliardo is not dead.* Thanks to this disgusting act, you have turned my son into a soldier." His blue eyes were still on Stefan Khushrenada when the soldiers opened fire.

Natasha looked away, tears rolling down her cheeks once more. She couldn't seem to stop crying. Stefan Khushrenada said in a bored tone of voice, "If he is not dead now, he will soon join you, King Peacecraft. Continue the search for the child. And find the queen. Make her death a quick one."

Thus dismissed, the soldiers ran to do as they were told. Stefan just shook his head at the king's inert body once more, then walked away. Natasha started to creep away, then heard something. The king. . .he was still alive? She crawled over to his body. . .despite the ragged holes in his body from the shooting, he still breathed. But death wasn't far.

"Na. . .Natasha. Little one. Do. . .don't cry. You mu. . .must promise to get. . .that. . . disk. To my son. He must. . .know," the king whispered. Had he known she was there all along? Natasha frowned and the king laughed, a terrible, tearing sound, and the young girl flinched. Once he stopped coughing, the king whispered, "Once a soldier. I saw you."

"Petyr's dead. They shot Petyr. They thought he was Milliardo, and they shot my little brother," Tasha told him, tears forming in her eyes all over again. She saw a terrible, answering compassion dawn in the icy blue eyes of the dying king, and he tenderly touched her cheek with his blood- stained hand.

"I am sorry. Little one. Prom. . .promise me. Promise. . .Milliardo will. . .see that. . . disk. They. . .have made him. . .into a soldier. . .on this day. Fools. They know not. . .what they. . .have done. My poor son. . . he must know. I will not. . .blame him. He must. . .know!" the king whispered. He sighed one last time, "He must know," and then his brilliant eyes closed forever. Natasha didn't even have the strength to cry out. She just wept soundlessly as the king died in her arms. First Petyr, now King Raoul.

Then she remembered that there were still others who needed her. She had to. . .Rina? There was still time to save Rina! That monster said something about a quick death for her. . . that meant Rina was still alive, that there was still hope! Natasha lowered the king's head gently to the ground and staggered to her feet. She had no idea how she looked, a half- hysterical young girl in a bloodstained nightgown, tears rolling down her face. It never even occurred to her to care. She stumbled into the castle, barely aware of the scratches and cuts on her feet from the stones, or that she was bleeding onto the white carpet.

From upstairs, she heard a scream. Natasha froze where she stood, her blood turning to ice water in her veins. And without a second thought, she sped up in the direction of that scream, leaving bloody footprints on the hard wood floor. Her progress was halted by a gunshot, and Natasha slipped on her own blood, slamming her shins into the stairs.

She bit back a cry as the gunshot was followed by the sound of glass breaking. She heard soldiers swearing, and skittered up the last few steps, once more seeking a hiding place. They were coming out into the open foyer now, two soldiers. Natasha found a hiding place behind an open door. They stood only a few yards away now, the soldiers could have seen Natasha if they were looking for her. Which they were not. They were still looking for Milliardo.

It occurred to her then, how little it would take. She could be very quiet when she found it necessary. And it was necessary now. She could crawl out from her hiding space, and push at least one of them down the stairs. There were at least twenty-five steps, she never bothered to count them, but at least twenty-five. Hard wood stairs. She might not be able to kill one of the soldiers, but she could give him a concussion. A malevolent smile touched her lips.

But what would she do about the other? Shoot him? Not likely. While she was considering her next move, the two soldiers began walking down the stairs. Natasha cursed herself for her indecision and her cowardice. No wonder Petyr was dead. . .he had a coward and a fool for a sister! She scowled and left her hiding place.

She immediately wished she hadn't. As she rose to her feet, she half- turned. . .and came face to face with a body. The body of the girl who was her maid for the last two weeks, who helped her get ready for the ball the previous night. Madelon. She was a year older than Natasha and worked as a maid to earn money, so she could go to Sank University. She wanted to become a doctor. Those dreams ended sometime this morning when one of those monsters cut her throat. Slit it from ear to ear, then stuffed her body into a closet. Damn them. Damn them all. Natasha steeled herself to reach out and close Madelon's eyes, despite her childish terror that Madelon's zombie would take her into the endless darkness.

It could be argued that by that time, Natasha wasn't fully sane. She certainly wouldn't have argued that she was sane. Her entire world was turned upside down in the space of only a few hours, then shattered into a kaleidescope of pieces, too many pieces to count. She could no longer draw the line between reality and fantasy, as the faces which accompanied the uniforms became those of horrific demons.

But still, drawing on a strength she didn't know she possessed, she forced herself to go on. Was it even strength? Who could know? There was no sanity. Only the relentless fear that drove her on, the fear that she would find Katerina dead, just as her husband and Natasha's brother were both dead. The fear that despite the extreme measures taken by her family, Milliardo was dead as well. The fear that Petyr's death would mean nothing. It already meant nothing, already meaningless in one part of Natasha's soul. But if Milliardo was dead, too. . .

She searched every room in the house. Found dead body after dead body. Housemaids. Guests. Trusted advisors to the king. So many dead. Even more injured. She moved through them all like a wraith, dressed in that bloodstained nightgown, her eyes glazed over. She wasn't even aware of covering the dead with blankets and sheets.

Then she heard the laughter, as she moved silently through the kitchen. Male laughter. It sent chills down her spine, and for a moment, Natasha was too frightened to move. Then she heard something. . .what was it? She couldn't be sure. . .but it sounded like Annika. Annika was dead, though. As if that mattered. Did Annika need her now?

If Annika needed her, Natasha wouldn't let her down. She moved silently from the kitchen. . .and beheld a sight which shocked her out of her state of near-catonia. A group of soldiers, standing around. . .something. She wasn't sure what it was. But one of them had his pants down, lowering them down around his hips.

Natasha moved a little closer and the change in angle revealed a devastating truth. The inert figure around whom the soldiers were grouped. . .was Rina. Natasha's instincts took over then. There was no rational thought. No reminder to herself of the danger which she would face. Only. . .Rina. Helpless.

"NO! You leave her alone!" she screamed, leaving her hiding place. The men turned slowly to face her. She ran at them, and they caught her easily, laughing as she screamed and clawed at them. Natasha finally snapped. The soldiers flung her to the ground, tearing at her already- bloodstained gown as they did.

Through the haze of rage and grief which stole her senses, Natasha heard them laughing, "Why have a dead one when you can have a live one?" And her own danger began to make itself known to her, but it was too late. She screamed as the nightmare grew even worse.

The Great Divide, AC 196

Treize Khushrenada wanted to look away. Look away from the men under his brother's command, raping sixteen year old Natasha Galinova. He couldn't. Couldn't avert his eyes, couldn't close his eyes, couldn't escape. Just as she could not. Rage welled up in his soul as he watched the men pin the screaming girl, stuffing a torn piece of her own gown into her mouth to silence her. The unit commander watched his men in silent disinterest for a few moments, then went back into the castle, and Treize swore that if such a man ever served under him. . .

"So tell me now, General Khushrenada. . .now that you have seen the blood-stirrin' sight of yer brother's troops overwhelming the Peacecraft castle and overcomin' the hordes of barbarian women and children, tell me now. . .where is the glory? Where is the honor? Tell me that, damn ye to hell!" Petyr Galinov rasped.

Treize looked at his companion. He tried to speak, failed. Swallowed the lump in his throat. Tried again, whispering, "There was honor that day, Petyr Alexandrovich Galinov, if one knows where to look." Petyr took a step toward Treize, his eyes blazing with hatred. Treize continued, now able to speak, "There was honor in the young girl seeking to save her dead friend, from further defiling. And the little boy who sacrificed his life to save a friend. There is your honor. . .there is your glory." Petyr glared at him, still shaking. But he made no move.

"It is not your place to damn anyone, Petyr, you know that. Forgive him, Treize. He has ever been very protective of his sister," a soft feminine voice said. Treize frowned. He recognized that voice, though he couldn't place it. Then the owner of the voice moved from the shadows, and Treize couldn't quite help his gasp of surprise. Katerina Peacecraft smiled and said, "I welcome you, Treize Khushrenada. The Creator will not be able to grant you an audience for some time yet, so Petyr and I were sent to keep you company on this journey. There were some things which we believed you should know, before your audience."

Treize tried to find his voice, but the shocks were too many over his viewing of the Sank tragedy. Katerina continued, "There is one more thing which we must discuss. I understand your objective, over this last year, was peace. We may have differing ideas on the accomplishment of that peace, but I can respect that you wished for peace. However." Now she took a step forward, her eyes blazing with rage. She said in a low voice, "That does not mean I will forgive you for trying to kill my daughter. I cannot give you that forgiveness. I can forgive my death, and my husband's. But harm to my children, I cannot and will not forgive. Is that understood?" Treize lowered his eyes in acknowledgment.

Seemingly satisfied, Katerina went on, "Excellent. Now, there is one more act which you must see. One final act, which will answer many of your questions, if not all of them. There are some things which will remain unanswered, at least for now. That is how it must be. I will answer your questions, the ones which I have been given leave to answer, but when the screen goes black, this journey will be complete. Are you ready, then, Treize Khushrenada? Are you ready for this final part of your journey?" Treize nodded and the screen lit one more time.