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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: Helen Butterworth + Stephen Notes: Challenge 108. Baby Series 3 #93. Takes
place at approximately the same time as Pagan. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Helen "No! `Ad! Addy!" Helen Butterworth sighed and glared at the child. This was what happened when a child's routine was disrupted as Stephen's had been. Since his return to Sanc from that ill conceived jaunt to Italy, the young Prince had displayed a stubborn wilfulness that quickly was trying her staffs' patience. She would like to haul the King into the nursery by his ear and point to the child currently proving to his nursery staff that he could be a prime brat. Of course, wishful thinking was not the go here. One did not grasp the King by the ear, or by a fist full of that magnificent silver head of hair, and haul the man about the palace. Not only did he outweighed her, but he also towered over her by more than a head and shoulders measure. No, she'd never move him. She had no problem with him going to Italy to remember the wife lost to him. The man had been given no concession for his loss and one needed to grieve. Especially a man as sensitive as Milliardo Peacecraft. The Terror of Earth. How could so many people be so blind? He was no raving lunatic, quite the opposite, and that in itself was frightening. He had known precisely what he was doing, and she supposed that was more frightening to the masses than considering him to be insane. In dealing with the son she needed to remember the father. This child screaming defiance at the nursery maid trying to get him to settle and sleep was no quite natured little angel. He looked angelic enough, but he was a tenacious little brat. When he set his mind to it Stephen was unyielding, stubborn, unreasonable… Yes, his father's son, and from what she had heard of Lucrezia Noin this child had her fire too. Quick to temper and just as quick to quiet the storm, that was what she had heard of the mother. When people who had known her spoke of Noin they spoke of passion, a quick intelligence and tenaciousness bordering on obsession when it came to the man she loved. Helen watched the struggle at the cot as the child resisted all efforts to get him to settle. No amount of toys, lullabies or stories lulled the child into somnolence. He refused to lie down, rubbing at his eyes. He was clearly tired, exhausted actually, and she watched as he grasped a fist full of his own pale hair and let loose a wail bordering on hysteria. Enough was enough. Muscling the night nurserymaid out of the way she hefted the child into her arms and began a thorough examination. This was more than a fit of pique. There was something physically wrong and she would give the girl a stern talking to for not thinking he might be ill, just as soon as she found what was wrong. ~ * ~ |
