AN: O.K., I probably should have split this into two chapters, but I really wanted to cover the refugee camp in one chapter so I could move on to other things and wrap this installment up in three more chapters. I’ve already started on the sequel (set at the academy) and I want to move on to their teen years soon. Hope you don’t mind the length, but it all seemed too important to cut.
The Lilac Princess
Part 12: The Scavenger Prince…
By Lady Dante
Mud. Their lives were covered mud. Mud caked on the tent, on their clothes, in their food. Even the rainwater they collected eventually became muddied and required boiling before drinking. The mud clung to everything in the camp, coating all in a depressing layer of beige. Ingrid was never so sick of anything in all her life. The old woman sighed as she attempted to brush some of the dry flakes from the children’s blankets. She had no means of properly washing their clothes or bedding, so she hung everything along a line in the tent and allowed the mud to dry, then brushed off as much as she could. It was less than two years since Cinq’s destruction and her little family had continually moved from one refugee camp to the next, fleeing the continuing destruction as the Alliance slowly conquered the entire continent. Ingrid would have expected to become accustomed to the squalor by now; instead she grew more annoyed with the lack of suitable sanitation. What she wouldn’t give for a decent wash in a real tub rather than the daily sponge bath with muddy water. As she glumly continued her tasks, Ingrid let her mind wander back to a happier time, a rare indulgence for the stoic, sensible old woman. Her warm memories were intruded upon by the sounds of a duel.
“Touché!”
“Aw, heck.”
“Two matches out of three?”
“You’re on!”
“En garde!”
Ingrid looked up at her two foster grandchildren as they fenced. Of course Milli and Luie had no way of acquiring actual foils, so they improvised with thin sticks cut to the correct length. The woman watched as the children continued the match. She was amazed at the level of concentration the youngsters displayed in such competitions. Ingrid was particularly surprised at Milli’s ability to focus. He had always been easily distracted, bordering on hyperactive, but put him in a competition—especially with Luie—and no one could equal his determination to win. Not that he always won. He and Luie were fairly well matched, physically and mentally, in most sports and games. Each won as often as the other and neither begrudged their friend a victory.
The elderly nurse frowned as she observed the two tiny cavaliers advancing through the small tent without regard for the furnishings. True, their “furnishings” consisted of little more than two cots, a few cooking implements and crates for chairs, but it was all they had. Ingrid couldn’t allow their few shabby possessions to be broken. Normally, she would have insisted that the children play outside, but it was still raining lightly and she didn’t want her little ones to get sick. Health care in the refugee camps was intermittent and of inconsistent quality. They battled hunger and fatigue on a daily basis in addition to the emotional strain of living in uncertain circumstances. All of this amounted to poor health for most of the inhabitants of the tent city. Death was a frequent visitor to the camp, especially among the very young. Ingrid was afraid to consider the outcome if her children were to require real medical attention. She simply couldn’t take the risk.
A sudden crash and a loud, “Oops” convinced Ingrid it was time to find something else to occupy her rambunctious charges. They already read through the borrowed magazines, completed their Bible study and finished the school lessons Ingrid devised for them, so she was hard pressed to find something constructive and time consuming to keep them busy. She wished they had a deck of cards or perhaps a game of some sort. That was it…a game.
“I think we can safely call the fencing match a draw, my dears, put your rapiers away now.”
“But Nana, I haven’t won yet.”
“What makes you think you’d win? I was doing pretty good.”
Ingrid smiled as Milli and Luie continued to banter while putting away their “foils.” Upon their arrival at the first camp, Ingrid claimed that Milli and Luie were her orphaned grandchildren. Over time, it had ceased to be a game of pretend. The former nanny to the royal family of Cinq now considered herself a true grandmother to these children. The young ones had long since given up using Ingrid’s first name and referred to her as their Nana. They were a family now, blood relation or not.
“I’m bored,” Milli announced as he plopped down on one of the cots.
“Well, I have an idea,” Ingrid replied as she gathered a few items, “why don’t the two of you make a chess set.”
“Out of what?” Milli asked, frowning.
“There are many things here that you can use,” Ingrid said, handing a stack of magazines to Luie, “with your imaginations, I’m sure you will think of something.”
“We can use pebbles for the chess pieces…” Luie suggested, gathering a few from the corner of the tent.
“And we can paint the piece it’s supposed to be on the top of the pebble…” Milli reached for the small bottle of ink he had found at the last camp.
The children busied themselves with creating a board and game pieces using various items from around the tent. Ingrid, assured that the children were safely occupied, retuned to cleaning the bedding. After a short time, a comfortable silence fell over the tent as Milli and Luie began their first game with their makeshift chess set. The quiet was disturbed occasionally by a stray comment by the friendly opponents.
“Checkmate!”
“Aw, heck.”
“Two games out of three?”
“Your on!”
Life for the little family progressed in much the same way for a few days before the rain finally stopped and the sun emerged from the cover of the clouds. The incessant mud actually began to dry somewhat and Ingrid allowed the children a day to explore the area beyond the camp. Their current location was well outside the war zone and the tents were set up near a small village. At least, it was once a village. Now, it was a collection of hollow, blackened shells, piles of twisted metal and other debris…perfect for exploring.
The occupants of the camp wandered aimlessly through the paths between the shelters, basking in the sunlight. Everyone was outside today, absorbing the soul-reviving light and stretching their cramped muscles. Two small children ran through the crowd with their arms full, darting in between the adults with long-practiced ease. When Luie and Milli reached the small tent they shared with their foster grandmother, they burst in and deposited their cargo on the cot.
“Naaa-na! We’re hoo-oome,” they shouted in unison, “And we got stuff to trade!”
“What ‘stuff?’” Ingrid asked with concern. If those two broke into a relief truck again…
“Just junk we found in that burnt out village, Nana,” Milli rolled his eyes, “Geez…”
“We didn’t steal it, honest,” Luie added with sincerity, “we found it, Nana.”
Ingrid sighed in relief and walked to the cot to examine their haul. Over the past year, Milli and Luie had become quite the little scavengers, collecting all manner of things to trade for food and other necessities. Unfortunately, they had also become quite adept at stealing. No locked cargo truck was safe from those two, no pocket too difficult to be picked. As earnestly as Ingrid tried to teach them that stealing was wrong, the children seemed to feel that anything that kept them alive and together was justifiable. She couldn’t blame them for their logic considering all they had lost. Ingrid consoled herself with the knowledge that they didn’t victimize other refugees. Rather, they zeroed in on soldiers and others in authority at the camps.
Political red tape often prevented relief agencies from distributing donated food to the refugees and it was not uncommon for trucks full of untouched food to be parked amidst hundreds of starving people. Milli and Luie didn’t see anything wrong with picking the locks to those trucks and taking what they needed. The elderly woman had to acknowledge that her children’s proficiency with lock-picks kept them from going hungry on more than one occasion. The larcenous skills displayed by the partners had earned them a dubious reputation among the others in the camps. Need something? Luie and Milli can find it—one way or another.
This time, however, the duo had legitimately accumulated quite a collection of trade goods. Ingrid sorted through the items, impressed with what her little foragers had salvaged. She smiled at them and instructed the two to wash up for dinner. The old woman watched them as they removed their matching flight jackets, and happily washed up, splashing water on each other for fun. The jackets were adult size, much too large for the children, and were the outcome of a trade with two wounded pilots temporarily stranded with the refugees. The poor men were desperate for cigarettes and her scroungers were all too happy to provide them with what they wanted…for a price. So they found a packet and walked away with fine warm jackets that would last them many years. They were also pleased with the fact that their jackets matched perfectly.
Ingrid smiled at her precious little ones, glad that they still had each other. They were like twins, she thought, inseparable. They scavenged together, fought together and survived together. Ingrid always worried over them. Life in the camps was rough at best and often quite dangerous. As young and small as the two were, it was no surprise that the inevitable bullies would label the children as weak. Those bullies, however, met with a rude awakening in the form of a sound beating at the hands of Milli and Luie. The little scrappers fought well, using teamwork and their small size to their advantage. As much as Ingrid hated for them to fight, she knew it was necessary for the children to defend themselves, though she couldn’t help but consider what Katrina might say.
The old woman was slightly ashamed of herself for allowing Milli to fight, but she was too old to properly protect the children from physical harm. As heir to the Cinq Kingdom, he should be preparing himself for his role as the leader of a pacifist people who would rebuild his father’s country. Circumstances and the boy’s own attitude seemed to make this all but impossible. In the time since his parents’ deaths, Milliardo had changed considerably. He was no longer the sweet chatterbox Ingrid remembered. That boy, it seemed, had died with all of the others in the palace massacre. In his place stood a silent, troubled child given to bouts of depression. His temper was sometimes unpredictable, occasionally leading to violent confrontations with the source of his irritation. Ingrid was relieved that he never directed his anger at Luie or anyone smaller and weaker than himself. He was generally able to adequately control his actions unless severely provoked. From time to time, Ingrid glimpsed a bit of the little boy she once knew. He still enjoyed making up stories and joking with Luie. He still demonstrated great kindness, although not as openly. Milliardo was, though, forever changed. He even refused to pray on occasion, something he took for granted when he was younger. Milli had rejected one of the few opportunities the small group had to attend a real church service, saying he wasn’t in the mood. Ingrid knew the boy was bitter over his loss and most likely struggled with his anger towards God. That was a normal reaction. What concerned Ingrid was the fact that Milli seemed to cling to his anger and would not speak of it. His nightmares were kept wrapped up in his broken heart and endured silently.
Luie appeared to have the opposite reaction. She had lost as much as Milli and yet Luie was more accepting. Her earlier experiences had prepared her for the war and it’s consequences. Milli’s life had been sheltered, but Luie’s life, as far as Ingrid could tell, was fraught with peril from day one. The girl’s own nightmares were enough to demonstrate that point. It wasn’t that the little girl was less affected by the traumatic events of the past few years, just that she was more accustomed to upheaval. Luie was happy to have her nana and her best friend. Anything more was a bonus. The child didn’t expect anything else from a world she knew to be cold, painful and frightening. Lucretzia made the best of what she was given and thanked God for it.
Ingrid was grieved to see both Milliardo and Lucretzia become hardened to the ways of the world. As time passed, their cynicism increased. They knew they could depend on each other and their Nana, but put very little faith in anything else. Ingrid lamented the change, but knew it was unstoppable at this point. They needed to be tough to survive. They had to survive to grow up and take their proper places in the world. Even so, Ingrid did not like the path their lives seemed to be taking. They did need to be strong, but not at the expense of their humanity. Living in this harsh mud-covered world was making them too hard. They needed a real house, the chance to go to school and a safe, consistent shelter where they could enjoy what was left of their fragile childhood. They needed a home. Ingrid decided that they had hidden long enough for the world to believe Prince Milliardo Peacecraft was dead. The battles that still raged were behind them, in the northern countries. To the south--in Italy and the Balkans--life was relatively stable. This was true mainly because the Alliance had already assumed control of those areas and established dominion. If they settled there, they would live in the mouth of the very beast that hunted the boy. But sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open.
Ingrid knew Lucretzia would be happy to see Italy. In the past few months some of her more pleasant dreams had been about a city filled with what Luie described as “old rock buildings.” Some of the places she described sounded very much like Roman ruins. From some of the other descriptions, Ingrid was fairly certain the child had once lived in Italy. Perhaps if they settled there Luie would begin to remember her past. The old woman smiled again as she watched her little ones finish washing their hands. She decided to begin checking into resettling in warmer—and drier—place.
When the youngsters were sufficiently cleaned, the trio walked to the food line. Milli and Luie decided to use the spoons and metal bowls they carried as miniature drums and played a march all the way across the camp, picking up a line of small children behind them as they stomped through the mud. The weary adults humored the younger members of the group, pleased to see them having a little fun. While waiting in line, Milli and Luie made up a new story, pretending that the food was fine dragon-egg soup and the powdered milk was actually honey-suckle juice. The decided to be dwarves that day. Dwarves who were taking a break from working in their diamond mine to have a nice snack. They continued the story through the meal, involving some of the other children in the game, all of whom though the dragon-egg soup was superb. Later that night, the two children sat on the cot they shared and Milliardo continued the story. It now included a silver knight, an evil dragon and, of course, a little fairy girl with violet eyes.
“Then what happened?”
“Then the knight snuck into the dragon’s den and…”
“And then it was time to go to sleep,” Ingrid interrupted.
“Nana! He’s not finished telling the story yet!” Luie whined. She hated cliffhangers.
“No arguments,” Ingrid replied firmly, “time to sleep. You can finish the story tomorrow night.” Ingrid busied herself tucking the two grumbling children into the cot they shared and kissed them goodnight. “Say your prayers now and go to sleep.” She stood by the bed and listened to them pray as they thanked God for their successful scavenging and asking that the mud dry up. Ingrid was pleased to hear Milli praying with sincerity rather than repeating by rote. Evidently he had a good day today. The old woman adjusted their thin gray blankets once more before laying down wearily on her own meager cot. She said her own prayers, asking God to protect her little ones and for strength to keep them safe. A moment or two before she drifted off to a well-deserved sleep, she was wrenched back to full consciousness by her “little dears.” They were tugging at the blankets and arguing.
“Hey! Quit it!”
“You quit it!”
“You started it!”
“Nuh-uh! YOU started it!”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did NOT.”
“Did TOO.”
“WHAT is going on over there?” Ingrid sat up exasperated.
“She’s hogging the covers!”
“Am NOT! He’s hogging the covers!”
“I don’t care who was hogging the covers,” Ingrid answered calmly as she got up, “it’s time for sleep.”
“How am I supposed to sleep with the way she kicks all night?”
“I do not kick.”
“Do so and I woke up one night and your elbow was in my nose!”
“Was not…and you SNORE.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“That is quite enough from the both of you,” Ingrid straightened their blankets and commanded, “all right…arms under the covers.” Her command was met with complaints from the two cover-hogs. Their protests fell on deaf ears as their nana pulled the covers up to their necks and tucked them in once more. This time very tightly.
“We can’t move now!”
“That, my dears, is the point.” She leaned over and kissed them again, “It’s very cold tonight, so you must share your blankets. I don’t want either of you to get sick. So stop squabbling, all right?” She wagged her finger at them in a very motherly way.
“Yes, Nana,” Luie and Milli looked at each other then back at Ingrid, “We love you Nana,” they sang in unison, smiling sweetly at their foster grandmother.
“I love you, too…but I’m not untucking you.”
The children eventually fell asleep and an exhausted Ingrid followed suit. The sounds of the camp grew faint as the night wore on, the chilly wind driving everyone to the inadequate comfort of their beds. Tent walls billowed and flattened as the cold wind howled through the rows of makeshift fabric shelters, adding the fear of exposure to the long list of concerns for the dejected refugees. Every one had their own story and yet, the story was the same. Loss, pain, fear, hunger. Moving from one camp to the next as the war followed them on their trek. They journeyed to find a safe place, something no one really believed existed, but searched for just the same. It was better to pretend they were moving towards something rather than simply away from their broken lives and dead loved ones. On a night such as this, it was not unusual for cries to pierce the silence as the unavoidable nightmares made their rounds through the camp.
In the small tent at the far end of the camp, Milli tossed restlessly in his bed as troubling images ripped painfully through his dreams. He woke up with a start, the horror still fresh in his mind and the taste of blood in his mouth. He had the dream again. The dream always started nice. Memories of home…his sister, his beautiful mother…but the dream always ended with the taste of blood and a horrified scream. At least the scream stayed in the dream this time instead of forcing its way out through Milli’s dry throat. He tried to steady his breathing as he reached up and wiped his face. Luie woke at his movement and lifted her head off the pillow slightly, looking at him with one sleepy eye open. Seeing that he was upset, the little girl put her arm reassuringly across her friend’s chest before letting her head plop back down on the pillow. In a moment, Milli could hear her even breaths, indicating she was once again asleep. Milli laid awake for a while, staring up at the tent and clutching the locket around his neck. He rarely removed the locket and if he did, it was carefully wrapped and placed in Luie’s treasure box for safekeeping. It was the last thing his Mama gave him. He had to keep it safe.
Milli closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to will away the images that still haunted him. He inched closer to Luie and rested his head against hers. Luie understood what bad dreams were like; she had them, too, though not frequently anymore. She seemed to be able to make herself forget some things after a while. Milli envied her that. He tried to make himself forget the bad things, but just when he thought he could, the dreams started again. Milli knew he was doomed to always remember. Always remember his father’s mutilated corpse and his mother’s sacrifice. The boy swallowed a few times to dispel the taste in his mouth. At least he had Luie. She understood and she would never tell anyone if he asked her not too. Or if f he didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t try to convince him he should. She would just let him know he wasn’t alone and leave it be. That’s what he wanted most of the time. Just to leave it be.
As Milli began to calm, he thought about how glad he was glad to have Luie here to share things with. He loved Ingrid, but she was a grown up. Adults didn’t quite understand some things. Nana always wanted him to talk about stuff. She said talking would make it better. She didn’t understand that sometimes he just wanted to think and sit with someone without having to speak. He and Luie would just sit silently, looking up at the sky and content to be together. Sometimes Luie would sing her song. He liked that. It reminded him of when they met, when things were better. Milli’s thoughts began to fade as he snuggled up to his best friend and drifted off to sleep.
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Luie stifled a giggle as she worked on her special present for Milli. She knew if she laughed it would wake everyone up. She looked over her shoulder at the two cots on the other side of the tent. Good. They were still asleep. She needed time alone to finish her gift. It was hard not to giggle though. The idea she had was just perfect for Milli. Her best friend loved to draw as much as she liked to sing and Luie knew he was always looking for something to sketch on. When he ran out of pencils, he would sharpen the end of a twig and burn the tip in the fire. This worked pretty well most of the time, but Luie knew Milli could draw better with real pencils on blank, smooth paper. She had the idea a few months ago and immediately began collecting the supplies she needed. Any scrap of blank paper she came across was quickly hidden away from her bunkmate before he could see it. She wanted this to be a real surprise. The papers were of different weights and textures, but they were all blank on both sides so Milli could draw as much as he wanted. She finally collected enough paper to make the sketchpad she wanted to give him.
She carefully trimmed the sheets to the same size and stacked them precisely between two pieces of thin cardboard she found in the trash pile. The cardboard was covered with various pictures Luie cut from magazines or found here and there. She glued them to the cardboard with paste she made from “found” flour. That kind of paste wouldn’t get her fingers stuck. She was careful to select pictures of things Zechs liked, such as planes, and other things that seemed very boy-like. If she were making it for herself, it would have been covered in flowers and horses.
When she had everything stacked evenly, Luie meticulously began sewing the pages together with one of Nana’s large needles. She used the binding stitch her grandmother taught her so that the pages were secure. When she was finished, she collected the pencils she had scrounged up and tied them together with a small bit of twine sewn to the cover of the sketchbook. She surveyed her gift proudly before hiding it away. Luie walked to the front of the tent and peeked out at the sky. It was clear again and she could see the stars. A few more hours and they could celebrate their birthday. The little girl put her hand over her mouth to hide another giggle. Zechs was going to be SO surprised.
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“What do you see up there?”
Ingrid looked at Luie curiously as the little girl gazed at the early morning sky. It was still dark out and the last few stars continued to flicker in their blanket of blue. Luie was usually the first one up each morning, but Ingrid insisted that neither of the children leave the tent alone, so the child generally peeked out the front flap and enjoyed the stars undisturbed.
“The beginning,” Luie replied absently.
Ingrid stroked the girl’s hair for a moment, amazed as how a child’s simple statement could carry such profound implications. She knew the little girl referred to her earliest memory, before finding her way to Cinq, but the response impressed Ingrid just the same. She quietly started the day’s chores, careful not to make enough noise to wake Milli. The boy had not been sleeping well lately and Ingrid was glad to let him rest. Both he and Luie usually got restless this time of year. The nightmares they both endured increased in frequency with the approach of their birthday. The day Cinq fell. Last year, the little family found themselves in a poorly equipped relief center on the French border. The children’s seventh birthday consisted of a chocolate candy bar Ingrid had traded her gloves for and a round of songs. That night Milliardo and Lucretzia woke up screaming and terror-stricken. It took Ingrid hours to calm them and reassure the children that they were safe now, that no one would separate them.
Ingrid hoped to make their upcoming eighth birthday more enjoyable. She had taken in mending for some of the medical personnel in exchange for flour and sugar. She had convinced a nearby farmer to provide two eggs and a bit of milk when the time was right. Ingrid even managed to acquire more chocolate. Her little ones would have a chocolate cake this year, their favorite treat.
Ingrid also managed to provide two small gifts for the children. For Luie, more lilac water. It wasn’t really cologne. Luie’s last bottle of lilac cologne had been depleted a few months before, despite the girl’s careful rationing of the precious liquid. Lucretzia missed her lilac fragrance more than she would admit, so when Ingrid came across a small lilac bush a few weeks earlier, the old woman eagerly collected as many blooms as she could conceal and set about making a substitute. She crushed the petals into some clean water and let the mixture sit until the water absorbed the essence of the blooms. It had worked fairly well and Ingrid was pleased with the outcome. She even found a bottle for the perfumed water. It was not as ornate as the cologne bottle Katrina gave the little girl, but it was small enough to fit in Luie’s treasure box and had a tight fitting lid.
Milli’s present was a bit more difficult. It took some time and serious thought for Ingrid to come up with a suitable idea for the young boy’s gift. The boy’s interests and talents varied. He was determined to be a pilot one day, one of the few ambitions Milli retained after the fall of Cinq, but he was also very artistic. Paper was scarce here, so the boy drew on whatever he could get his hands on and his sketches demonstrated genuine talent. Ingrid felt that the boy had the potential to become a great artist, if he was ever afforded the opportunity to receive proper instruction.
In the end, a chance meeting between a young English pilot and the elderly nanny provided Ingrid with the perfect gift. The young man had recently escaped an Alliance prison and was making his way across Europe with the hopes of returning to his homeland. Ingrid provided him with a few supplies and some clean drinking water. In gratitude, the young man gave her his only possession of value—his pilot’s wings. Ingrid knew Milliardo would be thrilled with such a gift and carefully hid it away with Luie’s lilac water. This year the youngsters would have a truly memorable birthday celebration.
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It had taken him forever to find it. Well, maybe not forever, but a really long time. It was definitely worth the effort, though. Luie was going to love his present. Milli sat on the cot kicking his feet impatiently as Luie and Ingrid readied themselves for church. A group of missionaries had recently arrived at the camp and began weekly services for the inhabitants. Nana and Luie attended every one, Milli only went when he was in the mood. But not today. He actually would have liked to go today, but he needed to finish his present for Luie and that meant he needed the tent to himself. He had finally figured out how to fix it and he was anxious to get started…if they would only hurry up and leave. The women of the family prepared to leave and Ingrid turned back to ask Milli if he was certain he didn’t want to attend church with them. Milli knew she worried when he didn’t want to pray or go to church, but he really didn’t want either of them to figure out what he was doing.
“I’m sure, Nana,” he said lightly, “I’ll be good and wait here for you and Luie to come back.”
“Very well,” Ingrid said sadly, “We will be right back.” She walked back and gave him a kiss before taking Luie’s hand and proceeding to the chapel tent.
The instant they were gone, Milli leapt up and began his task. The boy grinned at his good luck. He couldn’t believe he actually found one. Milli pulled down Luie’s treasure box and opened it, gently removing the contents. When he had everything laid out neatly on the cot he went to work. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the music box works he found and began installing the small cylinder.
A few months ago, on one of their scavenging missions, Luie had found a small glass music box. She had never seen a real music box before and was enthralled with the delicate sound. She adored it almost as much as the treasure box his mother had given her so long ago. Milli knew how much Luie missed the box and how difficult it had been for her to give it up. She gave it away. It had been for a good reason, but that didn’t make it easier for Luie to part with it.
There had been a young woman in one of the other camps who was expecting a child. The Alliance advanced on the area and the group took to the road to once again to escape the devastation behind them. The woman, Magda, had been allowed to ride on a cart, but the journey was still incredibly rough for her and she went into labor prematurely. With Ingrid’s help the young woman gave birth to a tiny baby girl. During the ordeal, Luie and Milli held Magda’s hands and mopped her face, trying to make her feel better. After the baby was born, Luie and Milli considered Magda’s newborn, named for Ingrid, their responsibility. They found food for Magda, traded for a soft blanket to wrap the baby and scrounged up whatever they thought the baby needed. Sadly, upon reaching the next camp baby Ingrid came down with a fever and died. Magda was heartbroken and, despite all of the children’s best efforts, the young woman refused to eat. For a time, it looked as though she would not last long herself, but Magda was unexpectedly reunited with her aunt and uncle. Having some of her family with her and the constant attention of Luie and Milli helped the young woman pull herself back into the land of the living. Her sadness continued however, and the youngsters were always looking for ways to make her happier.
One day, Luie had the idea to bring her music box to Magda, hoping the nice music would brighten the young woman’s mood. Magda smiled upon hearing the tune and told Luie she had once had a music box that played the same melody. Hers had been destroyed by the same bomb that killed her husband. Luie could see how delighted Magda was with the box and gave it to her without a second thought. Milli knew that was tough for Luie--she loved that box so much—but it was more important to her that Magda be happy again. Milli decided that day to find a new music box for his friend, no matter how long it took. He didn’t actually find a working music box, but he found one that still had the cylinder, so he decided to put that in Luie’s treasure box instead. This one also had a porcelain figure of a couple in formal clothes. The figure was supposed to twirled in time to the tune when the lid was opened. That part didn’t work, though so Milli had the idea of attaching the figure to the winding key with a spring. As the key wound down, the couple rotated. When the lid was closed, the figure would fold down safely.
Milli wound the key and watched to see that everything worked properly. Perfect. He grinned at his success and replaced all of his friend’s little keepsakes. The boy put the box back and sat on the cot to wait for Luie’s return. As he kicked his feet, he tried to imagine the look on her face when she saw his gift. Noin was going to be SO surprised.
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“Look, Zechs! Ingrid made a cake and it’s chocolate!” Luie was giggling as she rushed into the tent and held the flap open for Ingrid.
“Wow!” Milli leapt to his feet and jumped forward to meet Ingrid. “Where’d you get that? We haven’t had chocolate in ages!”
Luie grabbed their spoons and bowls and passed them around. The trio devoured the cake with glee, laughing and talking about how Ingrid had collected the ingredients and managed to keep it all a secret from the children.
“Speaking of secrets,” the old woman smirked, “I have two more for you.” She retrieved the gifts and handed them out. “Happy Birthday my dears.”
“Thanks, Nana!” the children shouted in unison as they hurriedly removed the wrapping. Each gasped with delight at their gifts. Luie immediately opened her bottle of fragrance and patted some on her hair before hugging Ingrid and offering her some. Milli laughed and pinned the wings to his flight jacket.
“Now I’ll look like a real pilot! Thanks, Nana!” As he hugged Ingrid, Luie snuck behind him and pulled out her gift.
“Happy Birthday, Zechs!”
Milli’s eyes grew wide as he took the small book and bundle of pencils from Luie. He opened the book and thumbed through the pristine sheets of paper. A sketch book…and pencils. This was the best present he could have gotten. Better than the wings…even better than the cake. His mind churned with all of the pictures he could draw now. Dragons, knights, planes…
“Do you like it?” Milli’s reverie was interrupted by Luie’s quiet voice. She was looking at him nervously, suddenly unsure if her gift was right.
“It’s great, Noin.” He fingered the pencils and opened the book again, “this is the best…I’m gonna draw something right now!” He sat down and started sketching.
“Isn’t there something you want to do, Milli?” Ingrid’s “nana” tone made him look up. Luie was looking at him expectantly.
“Well,” Milli began calmly, “I’m sorry Noin, but I didn’t make you anything this year. I forgot.” He tried to say it nonchalantly, so she wouldn’t guess what he was up to. He looked down at his sketch again. It was hard not to just leap up and show her the box, but that would spoil the surprise.
“Oh…well,” Luie responded with a shrug, “that’s o.k. No big deal.” She did an admirable job of hiding her disappointment, but Milli could tell. He could always tell when she was upset. Ingrid, also noticing how hurt the girl was, inadvertently provided the perfect cue for Luie to open her treasure box.
“Luie dear, why don’t you put your lilac water in your treasure box so it will be safe.”
Luie nodded and pulled her box off of the crate that served as her nightstand. She opened the complicated latch and carefully raised the lid. A light, tinny sound drifted out of the box. Luie gasped softly and listened to the gentle twinkling sound and reached forward to touch the small figures attached to the music box key. As the key wound down, the figure of a dancing couple slowly rotated to the simplified strains of a waltz. The little girl stared at the twirling couple, clearly delighted with her gift.
Across the room, Milli peeked up from his drawing just in time to catch Luie’s reaction. He bit his lip to keep from smiling and quickly looked back down the moment Luie looked up at him. He pretended not to notice anything and kept his eyes on his paper, waiting for Luie to say something. After a moment, he was surprised by a sudden jolt as Luie rushed over and threw her arms around him. She gave the startled boy a sisterly kiss on the cheek and squealed.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Zechs! I knew you didn’t forget! It’s beautiful! It’s even better than the other one ‘cause it’s in my treasure box!”
Milli patted her back with some embarrassment, saying, “You’re welcome, Noin. No big deal.”
“But it is a big deal! I can’t believe you found another one! I love it!” Luie gave him another kiss and squeezed him harder.
Milli let her hug him a few more minutes, still a little embarrassed. She was his best friend and they liked all of the same things, but sometimes Luie could be such a girl. Well, at least he really surprised her. Milli finally shot a pleading look at Ingrid who responded by saying, “All right now, Luie. I think you’ve thanked Milli enough.” As Luie pulled away, still grinning, Ingrid continued, “Besides…it’s my turn.” With that she hugged the boy and planted a big kiss on his forehead. Luie laughed again and joined in the fun. Milli, wriggled under the onslaught of female attention.
“Aw, come on guys! You’re squishing me!”
“Well that’s what you get for being so sweet,” laughed Ingrid.
“Aw, Geez…” He sighed and let them shower him with affection, smiling a slightly. He really didn’t mind that much.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A few weeks after their eighth birthday, Milli and Luie roamed the through the streets of a decimated village, looking for more trade goods. Their hunt had been unsuccessful so far and the partners were becoming rather frustrated. Just when they were about to give up and head back to the camp, Milli spotted something shiny under a pile of charred debris that had once been a school. He pulled the item out and wiped it off. A harmonica. The boy raised it to his lips and tried it out. The light wheeze of the instrument brought Luie over and the two worked on cleaning the dirt out of the small holes. Milli tried it once again and was pleased to hear a soft musical tone produced.
He loved music. The boy always wanted to join in when Luie sang, but he also didn’t want to spoil her songs with his off-key attempts at singing, so he just listened. If he could teach himself how to play the harmonica, though, he might be able to join in after all. Milli blew a few notes and Luie matched each with a clear tone. They practiced every day after that until Milli had picked up enough to play some simple accompaniments for Luie. They entertained people throughout the camp and were delighted to see how much everyone enjoyed their performances.
Their practice sessions, chess games and fencing matches helped allay the boredom, but Luie and Milli were much to rowdy to content themselves with such constructive activities continuously. They still enjoyed scavenging and exploring the countryside--anything to get them away from the rows of tents. Such adventures also kept them away from some of the enemies they had acquired among the younger refugees. They tried to stay out of trouble for Nana’s sake, but sometimes trouble came looking for them. That day it arrived in the form of a particularly mean boy named Piers. He reminded Milli and Luie of Karl, not in appearance so much as his ignorance and brutality. Piers was the type of person who liked proving he was stronger and the best way he saw to do that was beat up on the weak. The children tried to avoid the bully and his gang as much as possible, but the camp just wasn’t large enough.
Piers, jealous of the attention Milli was getting with his harmonica, decided it was time to claim that prize for himself. He had no intention of learning to play such a sissy instrument, but he didn’t like those two bratty musicians stealing the spotlight. He confronted Milli with his small gang and a fight broke out, Luie and Milli fighting back to back as usual. The scuffle ended as most of them did, a ring of boy lying on the ground with fat lips and bloodied noses with two small children left standing with clenched fists.
Milli shoved his harmonica back into his pocket as he and Luie walked back to their tent to get cleaned up. He was still angry. He wanted to keep kicking and hitting Piers and the others until they passed out, until his anger went away, but Milli knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to hit someone when they were down. Just once, though, he wished he could, just to see if it made the anger and pain in his heart go away. If it would make the nightmares stop.
Back at the tent, Ingrid began to give the two children a stern lecture on the evils of fighting. All the things she said before. The same things his father used to say. Walk away. He couldn’t walk away and he was tired of being told what he should do. It wasn’t like he was ever going to go back to Cinq. His country didn’t exist anymore. All he had was today. The place they set up the tent today. The food they ate today. The things they collected today. Ingrid kept telling him what he was supposed to do when he grew up and the responsibility he had to the future. His father always talked about responsibility. Milli felt his responsibility was to the family he had now. Nana, Luie…and Relena, wherever she was. Milli protected Rena by staying away. He protected his grandmother and Luie by fighting and stealing. He was the man of the family, that was his responsibility.
“Are you listening?” Ingrid moved in front of the distracted Milli, “Please look at me when I’m speaking to you, Milliardo.”
“Don’t call me that!” Milli shrieked as he jumped to his feet, “Don’t EVER call me that!” Ingrid, stunned at the voracity of the boy’s response, reached out to him, hoping to calm the child. He slapped her hands away and ran out of the tent. Luie ran out as well, calling after Milli. The boy ran as fast as he could, still young enough to believe he could outrun the anger and bad memories. Move fast enough and you could leave the pain behind. But he wasn’t fast enough…yet.
Milli raced into a small thicket of trees and flung himself against one, wildly punching and kicking at the thick trunk. He screamed and growled, using the incoherent noises to give voice to his rage. Luie skidded to a stop behind him, shocked at the violent display. When she could make herself move again, she ran to her friend and grabbed his waist. She tried to pull him away from the tree before he hurt himself.
“Zechs! Stop it!” The little girl grunted as she struggled to pull him back. “Quit it before you break your hands! ZECHS!”
Luie finally managed to yank the boy away hard enough that that they both fell backward to the ground. Milli continued to hit at the empty air as Luie tried to keep him from hurting himself. The boy let out a growl and swung around, fist reared back, ready to let loose one more furious blow. He froze in horror and shame as he looked down at his best friend. He almost hit her. How could he hit her? She was the only person who understood what he felt and he almost hurt her. Milli sat back as Luie scrambled to her feet. She was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear what she said. It sounded too far away. When she took his arm and pulled him to his feet, he didn’t resist. He allowed her to take his bloodied, swollen hand and lead him back to the tent, much the same way he had led her back to the Peacecraft mansion.
When they arrived back at the camp, Ingrid gently cleaned and bandaged the boy’s hands. He offered no opposition to her care, nor did he pull away when she cradled him against her and stroked his hair. Luie sat down next to them on the cot and looked at Milli with deep concern. The boy stared at her a moment, still amazed at what he had almost done.
“I’m sorry, Noin…” Milli was barely able to whisper the apology, he was so ashamed of himself.
“It’s all right, Zechs, you didn’t hurt me. Don’t worry about it.” She reached out and gently grasped his injured hand. Milli looked back at her, suddenly overwhelmed by all of the emotions he had worked to hard to bury. He squeezed Luie’s hand and turned his face into Ingrid’s shoulder. Then the boy once known as Milliardo Peacecraft, the former heir to the throne of Cinq, did something he had not done in over two years. He cried.
A few days after the incident, Ingrid tried to talk to Milli again about his problems and his need to fight. The boy was calmer now, but even his earlier outburst had not been enough to completely dispel his anger. She had hoped the catharsis would be a turning point for him, that he would be able to put the past behind him, but the child stubbornly clung to his feelings of rage. He was becoming more proficient in his attempts to control himself, but Ingrid still worried. They talked reasonably for a while, but Milli still refused to back down. The old woman tried to convince him that he did not need to take care their family, that was her job, but the boy insisted that it was his duty. He was the man of the family and he should take care of them.
“…and why do you insist on calling me Milliardo? I thought we were trying to hide.” That really annoyed him. He didn’t like using that name anymore. It reminded him of his father. It reminded him of the disappointment he had become.
“Well I think I may call you what I wish in our own home.”
“This,” he said, swatting at a fabric wall, “is not a home. It’s a tent.”
“You are right.”
“What?”
“I said that you are right,” Ingrid sat on the cot, “this is not a home…what do you say to finding ourselves a real home? I’ve been asking the relief workers about aid in resettling to a real town.”
“Where?” Luie piped up, interest peaked. She had been watching the entire argument stretched out on the cot, head propped up on her hands, as though it were a television show. The mention of a real home definitely appealed to her.
“Well, someplace warmer, perhaps,” the old woman thought a moment, “We are very near the Italian border…perhaps we could find a nice town to settle in.”
“Could we find a place near the ocean?” the little girl asked hopefully. The dreams she had about the ocean were always nice, like the memory of her song.
“We could look,” Ingrid smiled at the girl’s pleased expression then turned to the boy, “Well, Milli? What do you say to a nice cottage near the sea?”
Milli looked from his surrogate grandmother to his foster sister. Luie seemed very pleased with the idea. She had been having more of the nice dreams about that town near the sea. She definitely would be happy in Italy. And it wouldn’t be so difficult for Nana if they were in a real town. She wouldn’t have to work so hard and she could take real baths. Maybe they could start school again. If he was going to be a pilot one day, he needed to finish school.
“Very well,” Milli said, using his most grown-up voice, “I approve.”
+++++++++++++++ End part 12 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thank you all very much for continuing to send me your comments and suggestions! I think you guys deserve another group cyber-hug! I appreciate your feedback and I’m thrilled to know you like the story so much. There are too many of you to list individually, but you know who you are and I bow to you. I would like to say a special thank you to The Major for her support and letting me e-rant about my psychotic computer…it helps to vent.
Sorry this one took longer, but things got in my way, like my life. [Shocked Readers: “She has a life?” Lady Dante: “I’m as surprised as you are.”] It also took a bit longer because I was doing research on refugee camps and the experiences of those forced out of their homes in Kosovo. I used that as a basis for this chapter and I hope it lives up to the last one. It’s difficult to follow up total destruction with something appropriate and yet still work in cuteness/sap. I hope it worked. I think I’m back down to the G and PG level. I’ll try to keep it there for a while. As always, please review! I really need feedback…I crave reviews!
P.S. Check out the new picture on my Author Profile page. It’s actually a wallpaper that was made for me, so if anyone wants the larger version, e-mail me.
Disclaimer: O.K. with all that is going on in the world, I resent the fact that some corporate big-wig might actually take offence at the fact that I adore Zechs+Noin so much that I write stories about them. I think they should be flattered that I’m such a rabid fan and want to read more GW. I know I don’t own them, my 5-year-old nephew knows I don’t own them, so why would anyone else think such a thing? Have I asked anyone for money to read this? No. I’ve got a job, I don’t need to get paid for this. My readers’ comments are more than enough reason for me to continue to write, not a few bucks. I am certain most fanfiction writers feel the same. Don’t you suit-wearing types have something better to do? [frustrated scream] O.K., I’m all right now…
