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"Baby Series 3"Written By: Karina Rating: PG Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Milliardo Notes: Challenge 82. Baby Series 3 #5. Takes place
approximately three hours after Of Politics And Murder. Thank you to ShenLong for betaing this chapter
Roses He dared not permit them to waste their time in courting him. It might have been nice, long nights in their company. It was not the possibility of sex but the thought of their companionship which attracted him about the notion. He was capable of passion, but he could not permit himself intimate distraction. The truth was sex was dangerous. Particularly to a man in his position. There would be no end to people willing to indulge, if only because he was King and to be the King’s favourite was to have prestige. A King’s lover had power and he was very much aware of the power struggles already taking place around him. They were kiddy games compared to the games Treize had played. Sighing, Milliardo turned his back to the window and the young men walking in the snow. It did no good to watch and dream, but when that was all he would permit himself it was hard not to indulge in rare free moments. His eyes flicked to the vase of exquisite yellow roses and he tried not to think of the man who had made roses his trademark. Tried, but as always when it came to Treize, failed. Treize had preferred blood red roses, but any rose was enough to bring back memories. Deep red to signify the blood of those who died for peace. Velvet soft petals, exquisite in their simplicity and perfection and the scent; divine. But the thorns. Ah, the thorns. Treize never had the thorns removed. They reminded him of treachery and deceit; that all things beautiful could not be trusted and of the pain that must be felt for the world to learn its lessons. He traced a finger lightly over a rich yellow petal, leaned forward to smell and sighed. He should have known. Bred for striking colour and no scent. An exploratory touch down a stem and he snorted. The thorns, few as they had been, had been removed. “You would have been disappointed, Treize. Pretty things without thorns have no substance; no lesson to teach.” He liked his pretty things with thorns. Vapid headed beauties did nothing for him. He liked the sense of danger underlying a rose. Noin had had her share of thorns and Treize had been full of them. They had kept him on his toes, alert and willing to live life to the full. They had told him they intended to court him, to win him; to get him to want them as much as they professed to want him. They. Maxwell and Chang, two roses with stems laced with thorns for him to prick his fingers upon. When he had awoken on Christmas Eve they had been there, smiling… smirking really, telling him in no uncertain words they wanted him and then, impossibly, they had ordered him to go back to sleep. Cheeky sods. ~ * ~
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