Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Courage to Love ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.â„¢ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

 

The Courage to Love

 

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives your courage”

-Lao Tzu-

Part 1

 

Milliardo entered the small manor he was living in with a sigh of relieve. It was a hot outside, a little too hot for somebody who grew up in the cool climate of Northern Europe, and the house was refreshingly cool.
He put down his books and papers and picked up a small stack of mail that had been delivered earlier that morning. This had become his daily routine. The young prince searched through the small pile; his eyes lighting up when found what he was looking for. The duke's elegant handwriting on the envelope was unmistakable. Milliardo stepped into his study, walked to the window and threw open the heavy drapes that had been closed to keep the sun out and the room cool. He lowered himself into one of the comfortable, overstuffed chairs and with soft smile on his lips broke the seal and opened the letter.

 

My dearest Milliardo,

 

I received your letter the other day and I can not even begin to tell you how much your words mean to me.
I too wish that we could have spent more time together. It is so hard to be apart from you, if I want nothing more than hold you in my arms and taste your sweet lips. I cherish every moment we spent together and whenever my duties become too strenuous, I remove myself from them for a few minutes to remember something we have done together.
I am pleased to hear that your studies are going well and I wish you good luck in your exams.
By the time you receive this letter I will be on my way to India. I am not certain yet what our assignment there will be or how long we will be stationed there, but I promise you that I'll take leave and visit you the next time we are in the Mediterranean Sea, even if it should only be for a few days. I have something important to tell you, something I want to tell you in person. I think that you will be delighted.

 

I am counting the days until we will finally be together again.

 

Lovingly yours,

Treize Khushrenada

Milliardo read the letter a second time before he put it down on his desk. As usually, Treize's words cheered him up and depressed him at the same time. He could probably count the times he had seen his lover over the past year on the fingers of one hand. And when the duke came to visit it was only for days, a week or two at the most. There seemed never to be enough time to do all the things he wanted to do. The first few months after they had met had felt like heaven on earth to Milliardo and he had taken for granted all the time they spent together although he was well aware that it wasn't going to last. He didn't realize how much he was going to miss Treize once he was gone. Sure they were corresponding with each other, but a few lines on a piece of paper are a poor substitute for a lover's touch or a gentle kiss. He couldn't wait for them to be together again.

A knock at the door interrupted Milliardo's train of thoughts.
“Please come in, Edmund.”

Edmund, his personal servant, stepped into the room and bowed respectfully.
“Your Highness, should I serve your lunch now?”

“Yes, please do,” the blond prince nodded. He had two more classes in the afternoon and couldn't afford to be late for them. Besides arts and history Milliardo was also studying science, literature and languages. Sometimes he still couldn't believe that his mother managed to convince his father to allowed him to finish his education outside of Sank, more precisely at the University of Athena.

Yes, Milliardo thought with a soft smile. Mother has always been an excellent diplomat, and the only person Father ever listened to.

*****

Milliardo was sitting in his study reading when Edmund interrupted him.
“What is it?” the young prince asked.

“Captain Panopka just arrived, your Highness. He says that he needs to talk to you at once.”

Milliardo felt his stomach drop all the way to his knees. Captain Panopka was second in command in his father's royal guard. The young man remembered the last time the king had sent a messenger, after his mother had fallen gravely ill. With a feeling of dread Milliardo dropped his book and hurried out of the room to meet the visitor.

“Captain Panopka, is something wrong?” he asked, without wasting any time for polite greetings. “Did something happen to my father or my sister?”
“Your Highness,” the uniformed man bowed respectfully. “Let me assure you that everything is alright in Sank. His majesty and princess Relena are both well. Forgive me if my unannounced appearance startled you. Your father sent me to deliver this letter.”

Milliardo let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as he took the envelope and broke it open. As his eyes flew over the short message he frowned.
“What? He wants me to come home now? But I have exams in three weeks. If I leave for Sank now I'll never make it back in time.”
“I'm sorry, Your Highness. I'm only following orders.”

“I'm aware of that Captain and I'm not blaming you. I just don't understand why my father wants me to return so suddenly. Do you know what this is about?”

“I'm afraid I don't. I was only told to deliver the letter and that you would be returning to Sank with me. Our ship is ready to leave the port at your convenience, your Highness.”

The prince nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

*****

The white carriage with gold trimmings and the crest of Sank's royal house on both doors stopped in the inner courtyard and one of the servant hurried to open the door for prince Milliardo to exit.

“Miri!” A young girl with long, honey-blond hair came running toward him as fast as her long dress allowed it.

“Princess.” He smiled as she threw her arms around his neck. “It's so good to see you again. How have you been Relena?”

“I missed you, Milliardo. The palace seems empty when you are not around. But Father says you are home for good now; you won't be leaving again.”

The smile fell from Milliardo's face.

We will see about that.

“He is waiting for you in his study.”

“Relena, why don't you go and tell Father I'll be there shortly. I just want to visit Mother's grave first.”
She nodded as she released her brother from her embrace. He watched for a moment as she went back to the palace, then turned and walked to the gardens to cut some fresh flowers.
The royal graveyard was located near a small chapel just inside the palace walls. Milliardo knelt down next to the black marble headstone that decorated his mother's grave. Her unexpected and sudden illness and death had hit the young prince hard. He remembered how shocked he had been when he found out that she was dying and how angry he was after her death; angry that she had left him and Relena. Later, after he had come to terms with his own feelings, he had been ashamed for his anger.

“I miss you, Mother,” he whispered as he placed a large bouquet of carnations onto the grave.

 

*****

 

Since he was still dressed in his traveling coat, Milliardo decided to change into something more comfortable before going to meet with his father. But to his surprise he found the king already waiting for him in his chambers.

“Father,” he greeted the man with a polite nod. Then he frowned when he noticed that his travel bags had been opened and somebody had search through them. The frown turned into a scowl that what his father was holding in his hands were letters, letters that Treize had sent to him, Milliardo.
“What are you doing? These are very personal correspondences, you have no right to read them.” he snapped, stopping short of ripping the papers out of the king's hands.

“I have all the right in the world. I AM your father.” the older man replied. “I'm appalled. You are having relations with another man? Do you have no shame at all, Milliardo? How can you lower yourself to participate in such sinful and disgraceful acts? I didn't want to believe it when I was told about it.” With a grimace of disgust he threw the pile of letters into the fireplace.
Stunned Milliardo watched as the flames consumed his precious keepsakes, while his father reached for a thin leather-bound sketchbook.

“Wait, these are my drawings.”

“Drawings? I would call it distasteful smut.”
“And I would call it art,” Milliardo retorted, angrily.

The moment the words were out the king smacked him, hard.
“Mind your manners, Milliardo. You will not talk to me like this.”

Milliardo clenched his fists as the sketchbook was thrown into the fireplace as well. His cheeks were burning, as much from humiliation as from the slap. “These were sketches of ancient Greek sculptures.” He pressed through his teeth.
“I suppose you could not find any sculptures that were a little more…um…covered up?”

The prince scowled. “Does it bother you because they are nude, or only because they are male and nude?”

“I thought we raised you properly. I'm only glad your mother isn't alive to witness this.”

“If Mother was still here she would have understood.” Milliardo replied quietly. “She would have seen that I did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” his father echoed. “You have brought shame upon yourself and this family. But I suppose I'm not totally blameless.” He sighed and shook his head. “No, I should have never let you go to a foreign country, by yourself, without proper supervision. But things will change from now on. You will stay here in Sank; you will finish your education and prepare yourself for your duties as king. It is also time for you to meet your future bride. I have chosen a beautiful young lady for you. She is of good breeding and comes from one of Sank's most prestige noble families.”

Milliardo's eyes widened.

“You want me to marry some woman I have never even met just because she is of the right bloodline? I'm not one of your racehorses, Father. Not to mention, that I'm not interested in women - not in a romantic way.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“No, Father, I realized that even before I met him. His name is Treize Khushrenada. And since noble descent seems to be very important to you, perhaps you should know; he is a duke and comes from a long line of aristocrats. He has been courting me for nearly three years now. I love him and he cares deeply for me.”

“Nonsense,” his father snapped sharply. “At your age, what do you even know about love? And he is probably willing to tell you anything you want to hear just to make you partake in his dirty and perverted games.”

“Father, tell me, how can a kiss shared between two men be any dirties than a kiss between a man and a woman?” Milliardo asked calmly.
“That's enough. Spare me the disgusting details. This whole affair ends here and now.”

“You can do nothing to stop me from seeing him.”

“That is where you are wrong, Milliardo. He is a Captain for the English Royal Navy. I'm not sure how his superiors or the queen herself will react if I inform them that one of their officers made inappropriate advances toward my son who is not even off age yet.”

Milliardo paled, his mouth dropping just a little. “You wouldn't…”

“I'm your father. I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“From people like that duke who is trying to take advantage of your youth and naiveté and…”

“You don't even know him,” Milliardo snapped, fists clenched in anger. “And apparently you don't know me either.”

He turned on his heals and headed for the door.
“Don't you dare walk away, Milliardo! I'm not finished with you.” His father shouted. “If you leave this room now you might as well leave the palace. Unless you are willing to live by the rules that I will be setting there is no place for you here. Do you hear me Milliardo?”

The prince stopped and without even turning his head replied calmly, “Yes, your Highness, I've hear you, loud and clear.”

And with that Milliardo left, closing the door behind himself on his way out.

_________________________________________________________________ _________________________

T.B.C.

 

Author's Note: 

 

 

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