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"Baby Series 4"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 218. Baby Series 4 #110. Takes place the day after In Time. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
He Believed
What would Treize think of all that... that...?
He was not exactly certain what he should call it, but he was not impressed. It was... hype, garbage sprouted by those who had no true idea what the man was really like. None of the people he had suffered through watching their interviews had actually known the man. They had not known Treize, merely the legend he was fast becoming.
Treize had been a blazing beacon, a brilliant torch burning fast and hard with magnesium intensity, snuffing out all too quickly.
Those who now professed to know him so well, who spoke of the Legend with ‘knowledge’, knew nothing of the real man, only the legend they fashioned.
They had approached him, of course, and he had refused the interview the previous year. A synapses of the program had been presented to him, along with a draft list of questions and, on reviewing the material, he had refused the opportunity to speak. Nor was he the only one to refuse. Lady Une had declined a similar request, as had the half dozen other people who had worked closely with His Excellency. They had all refused, knowing the man they knew was not the legend these people were trying to paint.
It was wrong, what they were trying to do. There were people who had known the man, but for some reason it was not the real man they sought to feature, but instead seemed intent on the shaping of a legend. It was not fact that wrote history but the victors and their spin doctors who were so good at warping fiction into fact.
He could have made a difference to this program, he had no doubt of that, if he had spoken, but he suspected the truth would have been edited, warped into what they desired it to be. Changed to better suit the producers and what they had been instructed to portray. No doubt Treize had known it would happen, but Treize being Treize, he would have viewed it with wry amusement, cocked one artfully spiked eyebrow and gone on with the job.
Demonised or made to be the shining hero, it made no difference to Treize when he was determined to get the job done.
With a sigh Milliardo turned from the television and walked out of the room, turning his back on the fiction of the victors who needed to paint a hero and who had chosen the ‘villain’ as that hero.
It was laughable, really, that they projected Treize as the hero when the entire event had been so painstakingly orchestrated by His Excellency himself. All the blood, death and destruction had been necessary, Treize had assured him, for there to be lasting peace.
Sadly he believed, even to this day, that the man was right. It was why he had never spoken out, never revealed the real man who was actually worth the honour of being named a legend. He only hoped they did not eventually try to canonise the man who had convinced him of the unsavoury truth that was their world.
Then, as now, he wondered why he had believed but, now, as then, he believed.
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