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"Baby Series 2"Written By: Karina
Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the
Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Milliardo Notes: Challenge 73. Baby Series 2 #230. Takes
place at the same time as An Endless Race.
My Compliments The Prisoner was of Asian descent though not a full blood. Perhaps Japanese, he mused, seeing something of Heero’s caste to his features. Not that race had anything to do with this business. It made no difference if the intruder sported bright purple skin and horns. The man was still an intruder and a threat. The women remained wrapped in shadows, the moonlight shedding soft light in the room. The curtains were drawn back from the windows and the chill breeze revealed one window was partially open, leading him to suspect the prisoner of opening an escape route that did not involve running the gauntlet of the palace. “The Prince is unharmed.” Ice blue eyes flicked to the woman, her face shrouded in shadows. The brooch glinted in the light and he considered her in silence, undecided as yet what he would do. Pagan would be through the door soon. He estimated he had perhaps two minutes before security arrived. It would be a race between his making a decision and their being interrupted by the alerted security force. “Moonlight on Snow, she we acknowledge as The Grisselda bids you greeting, and thanks you for the gift of your return to ancestral lands. It is my duty and pleasure to assure you the Prince is unharmed. The intruder never reached him.” The prisoner looked uncomfortable, the blades of two swords, sabres, effectively restrained him. One rested, sharpened edge against the nape of his neck, the other blade rested similarly against his throat. From the confidence and strength of their stance, they knew how to wield the weapons, any threatening movement could be met with a half turn, and blades would swipe across his neck. It was not a position Milliardo would have enjoyed, had he been the prisoner. He wanted to wrap his hands around that neck and twist, until there was no life. He was deprived of his reason for such action, forcing him to fight the adrenaline firing his blood. He ached to teach the intruder a lesson, to protect his son and ensure no one ever touched Stephen with ill intent. He was not inclined to identify them. Aside from the glint of the brooches, the women were not dressed in any discernable shared uniform. Nor was he surprised one of them wore a maid’s uniform belonging to the Palace staff. “My compliments to the Grisselda. Along with my thanks.” His voice was probably too harsh, but the adrenaline was hard to deny, and the woman seemed undisturbed by his gruffness, bowing gracefully and remaining in deeper shadow. “We shall restrain the prisoner and make our departure.” He could hear the pounding of footsteps beyond the door and was not inclined to explain his son’s defenders to the security agents. He moved toward the door, intending to give them a little extra time to leave. Explaining this to Pagan would be a chore. End
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