|
"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: Anastasia Notes: Challenge 164. Baby Series 3 #267. Takes place at approximately the same time as Such Wonderful Irony. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Matriarch She needed to make a concentrated effort to increase their numbers. She was the Matriarch of the Sisterhood and it fell to her to oversee the growth and training of her daughters. Each one, whether by blood or initiation was both sister and daughter to her. It was the way it had been for more than a thousand years. They were an old Order, ancient and founded in mysticism and mythology. They were the guardians for a bloodline that hung in the balance. Too few people carried the precious genes that marked, according to mythology, the links between Sanc and the Moon. Idiotic nonsense or not, personally she did not care what historians might say, she was bound until death to watch over the bloodline. It was a sacred oath to her. Normally it was the children, the helpless ones, who were traditionally the focus for the Sisterhood, but the current King was an exception. He was dear to her. From the day of his birth, and she had been present when he drew his first breath, she had known he carried a greater burden than others of his line. He had not been the first of the line to be marked by fate to a great destiny, but he was the one born in her sight, who had come through fire and snow to bleed at her feet. He had wept on her knees and slept in her arms, had screamed and cried from nightmares and had, in the fullness of time, returned to Sanc and driven out the invader. No, he was not one of her daughters who wore the name Sister, but he was special to her, special to Sanc, though some fools still had no idea of his importance. Sanc would prevail. Would advance. Would endure. It was to be through his guidance that Sanc would come back from the brink of obscurity and ruin to shine again as a beacon of peace. She could have been no more proud of him for his courage and perseverance than if he had been a blood child of her own body. To the day of his death he would have the protection of the Sisterhood. She needed to increase their numbers, train them, see them installed in key locations around the world and not leave their homeland exposed. That child asleep in the palace must be protected and the man in another country playing cat and mouse games with the rich and powerful likewise must be preserved. Neither task would be easy, but whoever claimed that a mother's task was simple? It was as though she had shed years from her life when he ascended to the throne. She felt invigorated. She was Anastasia who carried the blood of the Peacecrafts, and she was the Grisselda. He had called her grandmother as a child and he still called her grandmother to this day. It was more than respect, more than recognition. It was… nice. ~ * ~ |
