Seven Wonders

[Eienvine]

This is a Zechs-centric fic I wrote quite a while ago. It's set between the series and a movie, after he's disappeared and before he decides to come back. The song is Seven Wonders by Nickel Creek.


Rating: G




Seven Wonders




. . . . . . . . . .

Memories.

They haunt me. They invade my every thought and every dream. They are my constant companions. They drive me on, even as they drag me down.

And they are the reason I have come back to this place.

. . . . . . . . . .

???
When shadows fall he'll close his eyes to hear the clocks unwind
Powerless to leash the hands of time
???

. . . . . . . . . .

?Your name, boy??

?Zechs Marquise.?

?Why do you want to join us, lad?

?To learn to fight.? Because there is nothing left to do.

?And your parents??

?They are dead.?

. . . . . . . . . .

He stood at the gate, staring at the ruins beyond. The palace had once been magnificent, but it was now a shell, a ruin, a monument to faded glory. Glory so long forgotten . . .

Feet hesitating at the gate. He wanted to enter, but he was stayed at the threshold by the silent weight of the memories and spirits still lingering on the once-revered grounds. It was so empty, so silent . . .

Silent, save for the sounds in his head.

The palace was as still as the grave, but if he closed his eyes, he could hear voices . . . the cries of those who should not have died. And if he listened with the ravaged remains of his soul, he could pick out of the unearthly cacophony sounds he knew.

?Not now . . .?

. . . . . . . . . .

The only light in the long corridor was the silvery moonlight that poured through the tall windows that had not yet been shut for the night. Milliardo ran down the hall as quietly as he could. If his nursemaid caught him awake, he would be in trouble, but he couldn?t help himself. It was time for bed, and his father had not yet come to tell him goodnight.

Voices. Where . . . yes, there, in the meeting room. But so late? He leaned his ear to the door.

?Madness. It is not right.? That was his father?s voice.

?The kingdom is unprotected. It is a prime target for anyone who would wish to make an example of those who opposed them.? He did not know this voice.

?No, my friend. We must not. For peace.?

. . . . . . . . . .

?For peace.? The words left his mouth unconsciously, leaving a twisted smile on his lips.
Peace.

. . . . . . . . . .

???
Kingdoms fall, the earth revolves, the rain will come this spring,
And nothing he could say would change a thing
???

. . . . . . . . . .

He was in the palace, now, though he did not remember crossing the lawn. The door, half burned away, was ajar. There had been no time to think about locking doors . . . then.

Everything was smaller than he remembered. He had been so young, after all, the last time he was in the palace.

. . . . . . . . . .

?Tag! You?re it!? Groan. Relena could be so annoying sometimes. She tottered away on shaky legs, giggling. He chased after her, catching her in the parlor, scooping her up in his arms and collapsing onto the sofa. She giggled again, turned around, and hugged him.

He smiled. Annoying or not, they were brother and sister forever.

. . . . . . . . . .

The sofa was still there, much of it blackened or gone, but one side was still beautiful and gleaming, showing the embroidered dragons on it. Once he had gazed at those dragons and sworn to be as strong as them someday. Now, he just shook his head.

?I am not strong. I am weak.?

So weak.

. . . . . . . . . .

???
Seven wonders crowed the man, knowing six are gone
And how the great illusion lingers on
???

. . . . . . . . . .

?Hi. You?re Zechs, right??

He looked up. ?Yes . . . Noin.? Silly girl. Why does it matter?

She ran a hand through her dark hair. ?Why do you wear that mask??

As though I would tell you. ?I think your friends are waiting for you.?

?Can I sit here??

No answer. He knew she would, like all his classmates, come to ridicule the boy with the mask.

Movement next to him. He refused to look.

She put her tray down, sat next to him. Began eating in silence.

He remained silent, but a smile began to form on his face.

. . . . . . . . . .

There was the armory room on his left, where he had spent countless hours as a child, gazing in awe at the weapons and medals stored inside. After each look at it, he would beg his parents to let him get a fencing master, but they refused to allow him to learn anything more than basic self-defense. The young prince was forced to content himself with imagining how he would someday earn a medal that would be displayed in that room.

The medals were all gone now- the cases had been blown apart in the attack, and like everything else of any worth in the castle, all the medals and weapons had since been scavenged by those dregs of society who thrived off of others? loss. Like me. He had come to loathe every moment he?d spent as a fighter. He wanted to get every medal he?d ever earned, every patch to show a higher ranking attained, and shove them all into the broken and charred cases and leave them there to rust. They were garbage, just like everything else in the room. Just like all the fighting he?d ever done- so cherished then, so hateful now.

. . . . . . . . . .

Zechs was lucky, he knew, to get such a position at such a young age. Barely out of the academy, he was already higher than some men got in their whole lives. He stood on the deck of the ship, gazing out at the stars around him. He was clad in his new uniform, which was so complicated that he?d had to get Noin to help him into it. She was now standing near him, smiling warmly as she watched him.

Voices sounded behind him, two soldiers on break. ?Don?t tell me you?re going pacifist on me, Rick. You sound like a Sanc-ophile!? Noin froze, looking warily at the masked man at her side. He stared resolutely at the stars outside the window, but his knuckles, as he gripped the rail, were white.

. . . . . . . . . .

???
He can't enfold the sun or moon or wind within his hands,
But count the times he'll shout the great I Am
???

. . . . . . . . . .

This was his old bedroom. The peeling paint on the walls was still faintly blue, and there were splinters of dark wood around the door. He could not tell how much the bed had changed; that half of the room was gone, burned away, open to the outside.

Apparently someone had been making use of the room, though- beside the swallow nests, there was a foam pad that indicated the crown prince?s bedroom had recently been inhabited by a transient. Ice blue eyes searched the walls, long fingers stroking the blazon of a crown near the door.

. . . . . . . . . .

The crown slipped off his head, but before it could bounce off the floor a strong hand reached out and caught it. Afraid his father would be angry, he looked up and saw with relief that the man was smiling. ?You must be careful with this,? the king cautioned, and the child knew he wasn?t just referring the crown itself. It was a lesson he had heard countless times already in his young life:

You are to become king; with that comes great responsibility.

The boy nodded earnestly, and his father smiled and slipped the crown back into its case.

. . . . . . . . . .

The crown was suddenly gone, the wall it had been emblazoned on now a huge hole. He looked down at his bleeding hand and realized he had put a hole in the crumbling wall with his own fist. He wiped the blood off onto his coat- there was no reason to keep his uniform in working order. Not anymore.

. . . . . . . . . .

???
With all the while a pontiff smile, veiling his disgrace
At never owning more than second place
???

. . . . . . . . . .

?Heero, I want you to defeat that man!?

A reply from Noin, which he couldn?t hear.

A stunned silence, in which he winced. He hadn?t wanted her to find out this way.

A deep breath, and then- ?My brother??

. . . . . . . . . .

Relena?s room was burnt but still standing intact. He inhaled slowly, searching for any reminder of the tiny girl who once had resided there. There was nothing, no hint of her.

. . . . . . . . . .

?There was nothing, no hint of her,? the guard said, shrugging carelessly as he sliced his apple. ?The Colonel had us looking, but someone helped her get out. We got her father, though, and that?s what we were after.?

Zechs turned his head toward the man. ?Is it possible she was hurt in the attack?? he asked, his voice carefully neutral. The guard shrugged. ?What does it matter?? ?I guess it doesn?t,? replied the platinum blonde haired man behind him. ?As long as you got your target.?

The guard nodded and began devouring his apple with relish. Zechs moved the plexiglass window and looked out. His thoughts were focused far away, on a girl with long blonde hair. Relena . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

They were in great danger, but it was nice to have the two of them together. He felt pleased that the two most important women in his life were going to be around each other for a while- not only would it be easier to keep an eye on them, but he deeply hoped that they would become friends.

Relena looked so much like their mother, with her fair coloring and beautiful face. She had the same bearing, the same inborn grace that seemed to come with the territory. Zechs, watching her on a screen at his base, felt a sense of pride at what a lovely woman his sister was growing into. Lucrezia Noin stood next to her, her opposite in every way. Noin was tall and strong, unlike Relena with her small, willowy frame. Noin?s short, dark hair was a stark contrast to Relena?s flowing, blonde locks. Noin was in a dark military uniform, and Relena was in a white formal gown. And yet, they were similar. Both were beautiful and proud, and both had the same innate sense of strength. Most of all, both were very dear to him, one as a sister and one as a friend. ?Take care of her,? he whispered to Noin?s image, then turned away.

. . . . . . . . . .

???
Seven wonders crowed the man, knowing six are gone
And how the great illusion lingers on
???

. . . . . . . . . .

The master bedroom was almost completely intact, although it, like all the other rooms, had been pillaged. His parents? precious possessions- his father?s photographs of his ancestors, his mother?s collection of knicknacks that she kept on the dressing table- were gone, stolen by those who had no idea what they were truly worth, no idea how much he would have given for them at that moment.

The bed was still there, although the fine embroidered coverlet and sheets were gone. He could remember this bed well, with its now-vanished silk canopy and mahogany headboard. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear his parents? voices:

. . . . . . . . . .

?Milliardo,? cried the queen in fond exasperation, ?you?re supposed to be getting in bed. And what is Relena doing out of her crib?? ?We wanted to say good night, mother,? said a tiny blonde boy. ?And Relena got out of her crib herself!? The king and queen looked down at the six-month old baby girl, fast asleep in her brother?s arms. The boy looked at them, and shrugged. ?Fine, I got her out. But she did want to say good night.?

With a laugh, the king lifted the little boy into the air, the infant girl still in the boy?s arms. ?All right, Milli, come say good night. But then it?s straight to bed!? He sat on the bed and pulled his children into a hug, and the queen came to kiss them good night. The little boy lay back on the mattress and looked at the canopy above him, smiling. His parents? bed was far more comfortable than his, and he snuggled down into the pillows and closed his eyes.

?Don?t you fall asleep in our bed, Milli!? warned the king, but it was too late. The little boy was already drifting off to sleep.

. . . . . . . . . .

He opened his eyes, wanting to see his parents again, but all that he saw was the wooden ceiling, the canopy long since disappeared. With a start, he realized that somewhere in the course of his daydream, he had laid down on the torn and dirty mattress, desperately trying to create the feelings he was remembering. As he pulled himself to his feet, a smile crossed his face- his parents? mattress was still the most comfortable he?d ever been on.

All around him were the memories of his parents, the king and queen of a country that should have been safe, should have been left alone. There should have been peace.

. . . . . . . . . .

?For peace.?

. . . . . . . . . .

What peace? There was no peace.

. . . . . . . . . .

?Your people could be in danger. You must arm yourselves against these enemies.?
?And have everything we?ve worked for destroyed? No, we will be fine. The other nations around us respect our decision to remain pacifists.?

. . . . . . . . . .

???
Seven wonders crowed the man, knowing six are gone
And how the great illusion lingers
Oh, the grand illusion lingers
While the sad confusion lingers on.
???

. . . . . . . . . .

They should have been safe. Should have been left alone.

He should feel angry. Here, in the ruins of the palace, he should feel angry.

But he didn?t. He simply felt . . .

Alone.

. . . . . . . . . .

?Zechs? Zechs! Oh, please, Zechs, answer me.? It was Noin. He could hear her voice over the radio, searching desperately for him. She thought he was dead. They all thought he was dead. At the desperation in her voice, he almost answered her, then caught himself. It was better this way. He could disappear.

. . . . . . . . . .

Disappear.

Dead.

Alone.

. . . . . . . . . .

?Watch after your little sister, Milli.? The queen smiled at her son, and he beamed back. ?I will, mother. Always.?

Always.

. . . . . . . . . .

?We miss you, Zechs.? The whisper sounded through the scorched hallway, and he looked up, surprised, unsure if he?d really heard it. He looked around a few moments, and his eyes fell on a picture of his family, charred but still intact. He looked at it along moment- his parents, arms around each other, his smiling little sister, his own serious face.

Then he straightened, turned, and strode purposefully toward the door. He had been alone long enough. He had been fighting long enough. It was time to return to the real world- to see Relena and Noin again, perhaps even to help their fight for good.

At the door, he turned and looked one last time into the front hallway, fixing the image into his memory. Then he walked outside. The door shut with a resounding thud behind him, and he walked away from the palace without looking back.

. . . . . . . . . .



fin

[VintageRock]

Wow, you really captured him! Being a big fan of Milliardo, I really like this.

[Kainen]

Whoa. That was good!!!

I really liked your interpretation of Zechs. The way he was remembering significant stages in his life as he walked through the palace....very breath taking.

I hope you write more about this... or maybe you could write something similar for other characters as well??? Yes, maybe?????

[Queen Scorpio]

Wow that was very introspective. I enjoyed reading such an amazing piece about Zechs since there seems to a shortage of good writing about him. Very nicely done!

[hhryah]

Wow, intense! I generally dislike reading about Zechs because people never capture how intricate and twisted his mind can be, but you did an amazing job. The end was especially poignant, and I loved the scenes when he thinks about his baby sister. Very sweet, very powerful, very well written.