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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: Pagan Notes: Challenge 174. Baby Series 3 #296. Takes place at approximately the same time as Impossible Possible. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Blue Blood He could wish the Marquis had stayed away. The young man he served, whom he happily called King and thought of as a favoured grandson, simply did not need the added stress of the man's presence. Weyridge was a user, he looked for advantage in everything he did, both in the past and present. From the political marriage of his daughter to the King of Sanc when there was near twenty years separating them in age to this latest visit, he looked for advantage. Advancing the family was his driving force. The Weyridge House was old aristocracy. The modern veneer clothing them was thin; a minor scratch to the surface of that House and the blood that flowed from it would be blue and hold all of the values of past generations. Anything, no matter how small it might be that might offer advantage was to be noted, nurtured and exploited. It was no different from the more modern political families scattered throughout the entire ESUN, but Pagan was well aware the old aristocratic families were more adept at manipulation. He had heard many things about the Marquis, not all of it flattering, but rumour was to be expected when you were a political mover and shaker. With his intimate family he would be more human if they had had the chance to associate, but such had never happened with the Peacecraft siblings. Pagan had glimpsed a doting grandparent when the King and Princess were small, before the Kingdom was laid to waste. A long time ago the man had seemed more human. With the fall of Sanc the Marquis had withdrawn, burying himself in Romefeller and waiting. He had not lacked for patience. It had not been all that long ago that the war had ended and peace had come to the ESUN. Time was a funny thing, a good thing if it worked to your advantage, and your greatest enemy if it did not. No one could turn back the clock, reversing the hands of time to long gone days when the young Milliardo had sat on his grandfather's knee or slept in his arms, when the young princess had smiled for official photos at her christening in the man's embrace. The awkwardness that existed now would not be easily overcome. To him it seemed Weyridge had no thought of attempting to reforge some form of familial bond and had chosen instead to use political necessity as a means to bridge the gap between them. It was an awkward expression from a man who was uncertain of his reception. A hardened politician, world wise and world weary, who once had thought it expedient to turn his back on a massacre. If the surface of that man should be scratched, might there not still be some trace of the grandfather who used to dote on his grandchildren? Or was there only the mummified remnants of an aging politician intending to ensnare a younger, less experienced opponent? ~ * ~ |
