Rating: PG
Warnings: Death, angst, blood.
Characters: Dorothy, Treize, Zechs, Noin.
Note: Chapter three. Sorry about the delay but I had family issues yesterday.
Chapter: Three: Ashes to Ashes
Chapter Summary: In which Dorothy receives a present, Treize sends bad news, and Zechs is intriguing.
Treize didn't bother knocking; then again he had never knocked on her door. He frowned as he surveyed her room, noting the dolls on the shelves, the stuffed animals covering the pale purple bedspread. The bookcase in the back was overflowing with everything from childhood favorites like Peter Pan and Grimm's Fairytales to classics by authors such as Dickens and Brontë.
He remembers her favorite bedtime story was Little Red Riding Hood. She used to grin when the huntsman killed the wolf. He closes the door on her bedroom and turns back to the stairs. If she isn't here then she's most likely at the stables.
The sun is just beginning to set when he finds her. She's sitting in the tall grass weaving together a chain of daisies. He smiles at the sight of it as he leans against the paddock fence. "I thought you preferred to rip the petals off!" he calls. Her head snaps up, blonde hair shining. He can see her eyes widen in surprise as he climbs over the fence.
"Treize!" she shrieks. She stands and races toward him, the daisy chain falling where she dropped it. He catches her and hugs her tightly though they'll both deny it later. "Why are you here?" she demands once the moment's passed. She steps back and eyes him, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're supposed to be in training."
"Ah, and miss your birthday? Not likely." He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a small package. It's wrapped in iridescent blue paper and has a silver bow stuck to it. "Happy Birthday, Thea."
She takes the gift and eyes it warily, as if she's afraid it'll suddenly explode. "Did you wrap this?" He snorts and she grins. "It better not be more rose stuff Treize, Aunt Aria's gotten me enough to last a lifetime." She tugs the bow off and sticks it on his chest before tugging the paper off. She doesn't notice when he sticks the bow on her head. "Oh!"
She's staring wide-eyed at the open box in her hands. He smiles and leans against the fence again, watching her. She bites her lip and carefully pulls out the gold necklace inside. The pendant is in the shape of a circle and there's little, intricate drawings on the face of it.
"It's a locket," he explains. She nods silently and shoves the box in his hands. He smiles as she clasps the chain around her neck and stares at the circle in her hand. "I know you're not one for dressing up but it was charming."
"It's very pretty," she agrees absently. He doesn't expect the second hug she bestows upon him. He hugs her back though. "Thank you Treize, it's wonderful."
"Happy Birthday," he repeats. She nods and steps back. Her shoulders stiffen a bit and he frowns. "What is it Dorothy?"
"Oh, nothing." Her voice sounds small though, smaller than he's ever heard it. "It just gets awful lonesome without you and Zechs around." She reaches for his hand and tugs lightly. "Let's go shooting Treize, please? How long are you staying anyway?" He chuckles quietly as she drags him along.
--
"People say you know Treize Khushrenada." He looked up from his Physics textbook to study the girl speaking to him. Her dark hair was cut short, the bangs hanging in her eyes. She tilted her head and raised a hand to ward against the fading summer sun. "Is that true?"
"Does it matter?"
She smiled at him. "Guess not, but it is interesting." She sat down gracefully (he had a feeling it was a girl thing) and glanced at the textbook. "I hate that class," she noted. He raised an eyebrow behind his dark glasses and she laughed a bit. "My name's Lucrezia Noin, but I'll punch anyone who calls me Lucrezia."
"Nice to meet you Noin," he replied with the hint of a smile. "I'm Zechs Merquise."
She rolled her eyes and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "I know who you are of course. I just transferred in last week and everyone's been talking about you Mister Merquise."
"Call me Zechs, please."
"Very well. They said you were a stuck-up snob, friends with the Khushrenadas and Catalonias. Well, I don't know how you can be a stuck up snob if no one's heard of you before and you seem nice to me. You're some sort of genius right?"
"Supposedly," he admitted with a roll of his eyes. He isn't sure she can see the action behind his dark glasses. She nods though and leans against the wall next to him, violet eyes closing. He stares at her for a moment. She's the first person to actually approach him since his arrival a month and a half ago. "Aren't you worried about your reputation, sitting next to me?" He got a laugh out of her and he couldn't hide the small smile.
"What reputation? Why, does it bother you?" He shook his head, flipping a page idly and she nods, settling herself in. "Good, cause I find you intriguing and I like intriguing things."
--
Zechs,
Sorry for the terribly informal note but I think based on the circumstances it will do. Mother contacted me earlier today, Lilla died in childbirth due to complications of some such. The child was a boy. Uncle Alexander named him Timothy Alexander Landry, so I was right. I hear Grandfather is ecstatic. The funeral is this coming weekend. I'm sure Dorothy would want you there. You have no obligation to attend though. Let me know if you wish to come, I will insure a car is sent for you.
Best Regards,
Treize
PS I hope you are enjoying Lake Victoria.
Zechs stared incredulously at the letter Treize sent two months after the start of term. Lilla, dead? He admits that he never particularly cared for her, but still…dead? He can't believe it. With a sigh he sends a response to Treize, informing him of his decision to attend the funeral. His thoughts are drifting, between warm summer afternoons listening to Lilla play piano, to Dorothy and fencing, to Treize and their chess matches, until the knock on his door startles him.
Noin enters without waiting for a response and closes the door behind her. She's holding two bottles of soda and a bag of crisps in one hand, her Biology textbook tucked under her other arm. Her hair is wet and plastered to her face. "Ugh, it's raining buckets outside." She dumps the provisions on his bed and then paused and looked at him. "Are you okay, you look like someone died?" His face must have betrayed some hint of emotion because she clapped a hand over her mouth and frowned. "I'm sorry! Did someone? Who?"
"Lilla Catalonia," he replied quietly.
"Oh, Zechs, I'm sorry. I didn't know, I shouldn't have said anything." She sat down on his bed and unscrewed the top of a bottle. "I didn't mean anything…"
"I know," he mumbled. "It's okay, we weren't close. It was just a shock." She nodded as he turned around in the desk chair, looking at her. "Right, so what did you bring?"
"Maybe we should forget studying today?"
"I'm fine, Noin."
"But, maybe, mourning time and all. One day of missing out on studying won't damage our marks. It'll be fine…"
"Lucrezia I'm fine." The use of her first name seems to have caught her attention. Her eyes narrow and he smirks. "I'm fine…"
"I told you to never call me by my first name!"
"You weren't listening to me," he replies easily. She glares and punches him square in the face. His glasses are pushed up against the bridge of his nose before they slide down again. He stares at her in shock after the initial pain ebbs and she sniffs. "You punched me."
"I warned you before. I hate my first name." He nods, too shocked to speak and his fingers reach up to feel the tingling area. It's already beginning to swell and he wonders what people will think if they see him with a swollen face tomorrow. "Shall we get to work on fungus then?" He nods again and she opens the book to the chapter and offers him the bag of crisps. "Right, so fungus, or fungi…"
--
"Ah, Zechs," Aria murmured when she saw him. Her red-blonde hair was tied up with a black clip, longer than he had seen it in years. Her blue eyes looked tired and her face pale above her black mourning gown. "I'm so glad you could make it to the funeral." She leaned in, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks.
"Of course I would come," he replied immediately.
"Have you seen Tim yet?" she questioned.
"Not yet."
She nodded faintly and then turned to look at the murmuring guests, the black draped walls. The house was familiar yet not for he'd only been to Dorothy's estate a handful of times. "I moved in with my sister and her family once Landry died, closing our own estate until I can bear to go back to it. Or until Treize inherits," she adds with a faint shake of her head. "I don't know where I will go now."
He shifted next to her and glanced around the room, searching for a sweep of blonde hair, a head of red-brown.
"Treize and Dorothy will probably be out at the stables. Poor dear, she's taken it all very well for someone her age." She brushed dry lips against his forehead as he stood stiffly. "Thank you," she murmured again. And then with a rustle of black fabric she was gone, moving effortlessly through the crowd. He turned from the gathering and exited the heavy doors, heading for the stables near the back of the grounds.
He smells the stable before he finds it, sees the two dark-clad figures before they see him. Treize is leaning against one of the paddock fences, fingers resting on the white painted wood. She's sitting on top of the fence, blonde hair down and curled, black skirt being tugged at by the wind. In front of them are two horses grazing, both a deep chestnut.
When he gets closer he notices the black roses weaved into her hair, the white lilies scattered beneath her feet.
"Treize, Dorothy…" The older boy turns his head and nods at him. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Death is but the ultimate goal of life, isn't that so Zechs?" she asks softly. She doesn't turn to him, instead keeps her eyes on the mare across from her. He clasps hands with Treize briefly before standing on her other side. A small, nearly malicious, mostly despondent smile tugs at her mouth. "That is what Grandfather told me the night she died."
"He was right, in a way," Zechs responded slowly when Treize remained silent. "But there's more to life than death, don't you think, Dorothy? Otherwise what would be the point?"
Her eyes turn to his finally and they're hard. There are no tear tracks streaking her face this time, like at the last death. Treize turns, observing them through inscrutable eyes and Zechs feels off, like he shouldn't be here. As if he should still be in his dorm room at Lake Victoria, studying and arguing with Noin.
"I think about a great many things now Zechs," she replies breezily. "There's not much else to do between Etiquette lessons and French verbs. Treize I'm sure has already told you I've become rather impossible to handle recently. I fear I have reason to be."
"You were always impossible Dorothy," Treize comments idly. He catches one of the black flowers as it falls from her hair and hands it back to her. She twirls it in her slender fingers and both boys watch as a small thorn pricks her finger, drawing blood. She stares at it. "You can cry Dorothy."
"I mustn't or Grandfather will think me weak." She smears the blood over her fingers, squeezes the skin to let more flow down pale flesh. "He wishes Timothy and me to live with him now that mother is gone and Father's constantly away. He wants to teach me."
Zechs reaches over and calmly grasps her hand, stopping the play of crimson while Treize watches, expressionless. None of them comment as he wipes the blood away with his sleeve.
