DISCLAIMER: As Gundam Seed was created by Mitsuo Fukada, and Twelfth Night was created by William Shakespeare, so is this fic created by me (Ruru Kitsuneko)…
AUTHOR'S NOTES 5.1: New chapter, new characters. Lacus doesn't exactly appear in this chapter, but people who are directly involved with her are. I had a hard time deciding who would play the parts for this one. I think I pulled it off rather well, but then again, that's just me.
CHARACTERS:
Aisha (Maria) – Lacus' attendant and maid
Sir Andrew Waltfeldt (Sir Toby Belch) – Lacy Lacus' uncle, rather fond of his drink
Sir Muruta Azrael (Sir Andrew Aguecheek) – a 'friend' of Sir Andrew, in love with Lady Lacus (or at least—this is my own twist—her money and title)
CHAPTER 5: WHAT'S YOURS IS MINE, WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS—EVEN IF IT'S NOT MINE
If anyone were to ask Sir Andrew Waltfeldt who his closest friend was, he would easily imply it being Sir Murata Azrael. Everyone in and around Illyria knew of their long-standing friendship, ever since Sir Azrael saved Sir Waltfeldt from being ganged upon by a bunch of drunkards and gamblers in a tavern when Sir Andrew had lost a good sum of money playing cards.
Normally, Sir Andrew wouldn't gamble that much—at least, not if he'd been sober. Though he could normally hold his drink quite well—he was a connoisseur after all—he seemed drunker than usual that night, which was probably why he still didn't quit the gambling table when he was ahead—or rather, heading straightway to disaster. He'd been losing steadily, for some reason he couldn't comprehend or remember—he wasn't a bad gambler really, in fact, he was quite good—he couldn't seem to win one single hand. Pretty soon, he'd been pretty much cleaned out. He would've had had a knife on his back in a few moments if he didn't pay his gambling cohorts lickety split.
It was truly a hand of fate when Sir Azrael had intervened and paid off not just his game mates, but the whole tavern as well. From that moment on, Sir Azrael had been a regular guest in Clyne Manor: Sir Andrew's niece's home.
Technically, Sir Andrew Waltfeldt was Lady Lacus' guardian, however, since the esteemed countess was already at the advanced age twenty-two, there really wasn't much guardianship to be done. Add to the fact that she controlled her own fortune, what more was there to say?
That didn't stop him from being in constant proximity of the lovely countess however. By all rights, Lacy Lacus was still a very beautiful and rich young woman. In his opinion, he had to watch out for his older cousin's little daughter—even though she was hardly little anymore.
Which was probably why he absolutely detested Sir Muruta Azrael. The man was interested in his niece, and the circumstances were suspicious. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt that something odd was afoot. Of course, nobody had any inkling of what he was really feeling—except probably, Aisha.
Aisha, who was Lady Lacus' attendant, maid, and companion, was only a few years older than the countess and had in fact been a sort of playmate to the young girl when she had been growing up.
As someone who sincerely had Lacus' best interests at heart, Aisha knew almost everything there was to know about Lacus and everything that was directly and remotely involved with her, which was probably why she sensed Sir Andrew's reservations.
"Some more wine, Muruta?" Sir Andrew inquired his friend.
They were in a room adjacent to the Manor's wine cellar, a recent addition made by the countess for her uncle's convenience, sampling some of Sir Andrew's excellent wine collection.
"No thank you, Waltfeldt," Sir Azrael declined. "And please, call me Azrael. I find I quite detest my given name. It's not very commending."
Sir Andrew's brows rose, and he said blandly, "Oh, really? I find nothing amiss with it." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's quite fine to my hearing."
"You are not the one to hear it on a round the clock basis, my good man," Sir Azrael said with a wry twist to his lips, his cold blue eyes gleaming.
"True," Sir Andrew remarked. "Quite true."
"The duke has been quiet lately," Sir Azrael remarked offhandedly. "Has he given up on our fair countess, do you think?"
"I have no idea," Sir Andrew replied, swirling the wine in his wineglass before taking a sip. "If he sent another message, I believe he'll still receive the same answer as he has for the past seven years."
"Really?" Sir Azrael inquired, his tone one of mild interest. "Why is that, do you think?"
"I have not asked her, as to why she's refused his suit for the past seven years," Sir Andrew shrugged. "But in my opinion, it's because of her brother."
"Her brother?" Sir Azrael asked leaning forward.
"He's dead," Sir Andrew said bluntly.
"My condolences," Sir Azrael murmured, his eyes avid with curiosity. "I'm wondering why I haven't any knowledge of this said brother of the countess'?"
"You wouldn't," Sir Andrew answered. "As he's been dead neigh seven years past."
"Seven years?" Sir Azrael asked, his eyes narrowing. "That seems to have some significance, yet I'm not sure…"
"Seven years, my friend," Sir Andrew interrupted, "Is the length of the courtship between the Duke of Illyria and my niece."
Sir Azrael raised his brows and murmured in a noncommittal manner. Drumming his fingers against the table, he half observed his friend open another bottle and pour a little bit of it in the glass he had been drinking. "How can you do that all day?" he asked idly, not caring the least what the answer would be.
"It's a passion of mine," Sir Andrew answered, his concentration still on the wine, "Unlike you, my friend, who seems to have none."
"I don't know," Sir Azrael replied slanting a glance at his friend. "I might have discovered something to be passionate about…" his voice trailed off meaningfully.
Needless to say, Sir Andrew didn't miss the meaning of those meaningful dots at the end of Sir Azrael's sentence. His gaze snapped towards Azrael and held. "I see." Without looking away, Sir Andrew took another sip of the newly mixed wine and swirled it around. "Who might that passion be?"
"Really, Waltfeldt!" Sir Azrael exclaimed with a laugh, slapping his palm against the table. "What gives you the idea that it is a person I'm passionate about?"
"Why don't you tell me?" Sir Andrew answered abruptly.
"As perceptive as always," Sir Azrael commented, a sly grin on his face. "You certainly don't miss much, my friend."
"You're prevaricating, my dear Muruta," Sir Andrew remarked, corking one of the open wine bottles. "I'm beginning to think there's something you don't want to tell me."
Sir Azrael's smile tightened. He was annoyed at Sir Andrew for deliberately using his first name, after he had specifically said that he didn't care for it. "You're niece is a lovely young lady. She'd make someone a fine countess."
"She's already a fine countess," Sir Andrew said mildly, a slightly mocking smile in his face.
"Of course she is," Azrael said smoothly, not missing a beat. "But wouldn't she be happier with a count."
"Are you applying for the position, Azrael?" Sir Andrew asked bluntly, his smile still present.
"Indeed I am," Azrael answered, returning the same false smile at his friend.
Sir Andrew shrugged. "I'm surprised you didn't bring it up sooner," he said idly, as he returned the bottle to its place, and was choosing another. "I do approve of your suit, you know."
Sir Azrael's eyebrows flew upwards in patent disbelief. "Do you, indeed?"
"Indeed," came the answer.
Before Sir Azrael could say anything else, footsteps could be heard coming in their direction.
"Sir Andrew!" a high feminine voice called out. "Are you there?"
Both men whipped around to find Aisha walking towards them, her blue skirts swishing over the carpeted floor.
"Oh, Sir Andrew," Aisha began, smiling brightly at him. "Milady wishes to have a special wine for dinner tonight. Would you be so kind as to choose for her?"
"It will be my pleasure," Sir Andrew replied, smiling with genuine warmth at the beautiful woman.
"Good day, Sir Azrael," she greeted politely. "Cook has made your favorite dish for tonight."
"Did he?" Azrael replied just as politely. "Do thank him for me."
Aisha nodded, and turned back to Sir Andrew. "Milady is feeling quite restless these days. Nothing new has occurred since she refused the duke's suit last month. Everything is turning out to be quite banal. She has not been in the music room at all, and that is something quite odd in and of itself. I do hope she feels more cheerful soon."
"I'm sure things will start happening, my dear," he answered, handing her one of his best wine bottles.
"Oh," she said looking at the year on the bottle's label. "It's quite a good year."
"Of course," he replied, inclining his head at her. "Only the best for dear Lacus."
Aisha smiled up at him. "With you watching out for her, how could it not?"
" 'How could it not' indeed?" Azrael remarked when Aisha had departed. "You are quite the chameleon, Sir Andrew. Even I don't know when to believe you."
"One believes what one must," Sir Andrew answered philosophically. "Do you not agree that you might possibly be the 'best' for my sweet Lacus?"
"I might," Azrael answered, a gleam in his eyes. "If you would kindly assist me, then you can be sure that I shall assist you indefinitely."
"Mutualism?" Sir Andrew inquired.
"But of course, Sir Andrew," Azrael answered, a wide smile on his face. "But of course."
A/N 5.2: I had fun doing this chapter. I think it came out right despite my misgivings, but I'm still misgiving. That aside, Aisha doesn't seem to have much of a role yet in the story, but her time will come. I'm still not sure about the other characters, though, but we'll see how it goes. As to chapter titles, unnecessary as they seem to be, I had fun with this one. Can anybody actually tell what it means -wiggles eyebrows mischievously-? Thanks to Ryo Kazunine for pointing that out, and also to Mrs. Nozomu Sohma and purple1 for your support -dabs at her eyes-. I am truly touched -sniffle-! Using the pronoun 'he' on Caleb was pretty difficult at first, since I knew it was Cagalli underneath the Kira-like exterior (yes, readers—it's easier to imagine Caleb if you think of Kira, only with a slightly feminine air). I kept typing up 'she' and then deleting it to make it 'he' again. I must say I got pretty confused at times -sigh-. So, RougeShadow, you are not alone! Thanks also to Inulover4eva, cotton-angel, and akichi for your kind words regarding my fickie-baby: truly inspiring. As to Kira: we'll get there… don't worry… Next up is Lacus and Cagalli, and it's gonna be fun. Ja!