Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai
Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all
original characters and plot copyright 2000 by
Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission
before reposting. 
 
SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING 
SAINAN NO KEKKA
Navidad 
  
IV. CANTIQUE DE NOEL
[Minuit, chr�tiens, c'est l'heure solennelle
O� l'Homme Dieu descendit jusqu'� nous] 
************ ************ ************ ************
************ ************ ************ 
Dear, when thou has finished thy task // Parsley,
sage, rosemary and thyme
Come to me, my hand for to ask // For thou then art a
true love of mine 
************ ************ ************ ************
************ ************ ************ 
 
"Lady Dorothy?" 

A rap on her door and she put down the book she had
been reading. Had been attempting to read for about
two hours now, with an interruption every five minutes
from a servant about her preparations for the ball or
her grandfather's updated instructions on what
information to watch and listen for, or her cat, which
was currently amusing itself by nibbling on the corner
of the table. 

"Stop that!" She reached out for the animal, banging
her elbow on the table leg in the process. "Ow!" The
cat swiped at her arm, raking it with a claw. "Damn
you!" The knock sounded again. 

"Coming!" she shouted in frustration, depositing the
cat into a corner, where it yowled forlornly at her as
she ran to the door and opened it. 

It was a servant with her dress, as she had thought.
"Thank you," she muttered, taking the gown and
slamming the door in the man's face. Placing it on the
bed, she picked up the cat again, marching to the
bathroom and throwing it inside, shutting the door. It
meowed pitifully. 

"I have no sympathy for you," Dorothy said, moving
back to the bed to examine the dress. It was made of
black satin, backless, with silver embroidered designs
on the bosom and the wide flared skirt. She sighed.
She'd have to wear a corset with this�she hated
corsets. 

The scratch on her arm was beginning to sting and she
began to head towards the bathroom - then remembered
that the cat was in there. Sighing, she resorted to
rubbing it with her thumb, hoping the redness and the
swelling would go away before it was time for her to
go down and meet guests. 

The screen beeped just as she was taking off her
shirt, and she hit voice only. "Grandfather?" 

"Dorothy, I have confirmed the guest list. It's in the
study, if you want to see it. Remember to-" 

"-talk to General Noventa," she said. "Yes,
Grandfather, I know. I'll be down in fifteen minutes."


He cut the connection without a further word and she
finished taking off her slacks, pulling on a pair of
pantyhose and sliding the dress over her head. Her
mother would have a fit that she was dressing herself
without maids, but Dorothy really didn't care what her
mother thought, and she really didn't relish the idea
of other women standing looking at her nude body. Her
mother had some strange ideas. 

She'd asked her grandfather if Emily was attending the
party, but he had said no, that she was off in Italy
and couldn't make it in time. She'd been both
disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because she
hadn't seen her mother in person in half a year, and
relieved at the same time because she really didn't
like her mother. 

Touching a hint of lip gloss to her lips, Dorothy
opened the door, ignoring the sounds of the cat from
inside the bathroom. It sounded as though the animal
was now trying to throw itself against the door.
Smiling slightly, she left her bedroom door ajar as
she left the room, just in case it managed to get out
and needed food. 

The guest list was in the study, as promised, and she
ran through the long line of names, noting the ones
she was familiar with and burning into memory the
names of those with a small check by them, the ones
who were important tonight. 

Treize Khushrenada. That was interesting. Mayer
Khushrenada? 

"I see you found it," the voice of her grandfather
said from behind her. 

"Grandfather, who's Mayer Khushrenada?" 

He crossed to her side and took the list. "He's your
uncle. Your mother's sister. Be polite to him, won't
you? He really has nothing to tell you, but he is
family." 

"Of course," she said absently. The band was tuning
outside in the ballroom and she was hungry. "May I go
eat something?" 

"In a minute," Dermail said. "I have something for
you." 

That was a new one. She watched in interest as he
crossed the study to take down a wrapped box from the
bookshelf and handed it to her. She took it, hearing
the wrapping paper crinkle under the fingers. The box
felt light and she shook it experimentally, but it
made no sound. 

"What is it?" 

"If I told you," her grandfather said chidingly, "it
wouldn't be a Christmas present, would it?" 

"Can I open it?" 

"Suit yourself," he said, watching as she carefully
slit the wrapping where it was taped at the sides,
undid the silk ribbon. The box inside was plain and
unadorned, and she cracked it open, drawing out the
scarf that lay inside. 

It was as little worn and faded, but the elegance of
the silk was still there. The patterns danced before
her eyes, and she looked up at her grandfather.
"What's this?" 

"It was your father's," he said. "Your mother left it
with you when you were given to my care, and I thought
it wise to keep it somewhere safe until you could take
it back." 

"It's very old," she whispered, running her hand
across the fine fabric, "isn't it?" 

"I suppose it is. Your mother never mentioned anything
about this, only that she found it among your father's
belongings after he died. I suppose she thought it was
rather gaudy for her collection." 

"I like it," Dorothy said defensively, raising the
scarf out of the box and draping over her shoulders,
the colorful patterns seeming to dance as the scarf
rippled. "It matches my dress." 

"I wouldn't know about that," Dermail said, coming
over to her and taking the wrapping and the box,
carefully folding them up and placing them in the
trash can. "Women's fashions have always been a
mystery to me. Though I claim to understand them, for
the sake of women such as you." 

"Grandfather!" she said, but she smiled and kissed him
on the cheek. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. I expect a good report from you
tonight, Dorothy." 

The warm mood of the room broke at those words, and
she nodded slowly. "Yes, Grandfather." 

Exiting the study, she leaned against the wall of the
ballroom for a while watching the preparations and
hearing the first guests arrive through the front
doors, hearing her grandfather's voice as he greeted
them. The large Christmas tree in the center of the
ballroom had been meticulously decorated with all
kinds of glittering tinsel and she hardly spared it a
glance. Too overdone, in her opinion. 

A delicious aroma of baked bread drifted towards her
nose, and Dorothy remembered that she was hungry. The
main meal was yet to come, but a few appetizers
couldn't hurt. 

The sandwich fixings were already laid out on the
table, and the servants who were setting up the punch
on the other table paid her no heed as she grabbed a
plate and proceeded to throw almost all the
ingredients of the table onto it between two slices of
bread. Finishing with a slice of cheese at the side,
she took a napkin and turned around- 

-to bump into something. Blinking, she realized with
some discomfort that it was the chest of a
well-dressed man, who immediately backed up. 

"I'm dreadfully sorry," the man said, and then paused.
"Ah�Miss Dorothy Catalonia." 

She'd only met him once before, last year, but she'd
recognize that voice anywhere. "Hello, Treize," she
said, curtseying and balancing the sandwich plate in
one hand. "Did you just arrive?" 

"Your chauffeur is parking our car as we speak,"
Treize said. He looked the same as he had last year,
tall, commanding, calm and controlled and handsome -
except that his uniform was a little different. More
elaborate, perhaps? Duke Dermail had told her that
Treize had taken command of OZ in early March of this
year. 

Great things will happen, Dorothy, her grandfather had
said. Great things. We are moving forward now. 

She hadn't been interested enough to ask what great
things, but if Treize was behind them, they would be
great things indeed. 

"There is someone that I was hoping you could meet,
actually," Treize said, breaking into her thoughts,
and she turned her attention back to him. He gestured
over his shoulder, where another man was approaching.
He looked very much like Treize, except with blond
hair, a little older, perhaps, with gray eyes and a
genuine smile. 

"How do you do?" he murmured, taking her hand as
Treize stepped aside. "It's good to meet my niece at
last." 

She curtseyed again as he kissed her hand, feeling a
strange detachment to the handsome stranger who was
looking at her as if she was his daughter. I don't
know you, she wanted to say. I don't even know my
mother. But she didn't say anything, simply smiled
politely and waited for them to go away so she could
eat her sandwich in peace. 

Instead, Mayer turned to Treize. "She certainly has
grown since I saw her last. Could barely walk, the
little one!" 

Dorothy frowned. "We've met?" 

Mayer chuckled. "I could hardly call it 'met'�you were
about three years old at the time and I had some
business in the area so I stopped by to visit your
grandfather, and he and I visited you in your nursery.
Your hair was the same color then, though you had a
lot less of it." Laughing quietly at his own joke. 

Dorothy looked uncertainly at him, wondering if this
man was all right in the head, then shrugged and bit
into her sandwich. It wobbled a bit as she put it back
down on the plate, but appeared to hold. "I'm sure it
was a nice visit, but I don't remember." 

"I don't expect you to," Mayer said, then paused.
"That scarf�I've seen it before." 

Treize raised one elegant eyebrow. "Have you now?
Where'd you get that, Dorothy?" 

"My grandfather gave it to me just now," she returned,
irritable that they wouldn't just go away and let her
eat. "It was a Christmas present." 

"It was your aunt's," Mayer said softly. "I saw her
wear it only once�at a Christmas party two years
before her death." 

Despite herself, Dorothy was interested. "Really?" 

Mayer nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "Your Aunt
Alicia�she was a rebellious one. Went and joined the
Academy at thirteen, against your grandfather's
wishes. Didn't come back until twelve years later, and
then went away again. That was the only time I saw her
before she died." 

"Oh," Dorothy said. "How did she die?" 

The older man shook his head. "I have no idea. I
hadn't been in contact with your family at the time,
and I only heard of it through other sources. Though
your mother did say that your father was absolutely
devastated by her death." 

"And the scarf�it was hers?" 

"She wore it that one night at the party. That's how I
figure�it's a unique piece of work." 

"Oh," she said again. "I see." 

"Your Aunt Alicia�" Mayer shook his head. "She was a
strange one. No one ever really knew her, not even her
own brother, I don't believe. But she was very
beautiful, I'll give you that. Such a pity." 

Treize tapped Mayer gently. "I believe the young lady
wants to finish her sandwich�why don't we step away
for a minute?" 

"Nice to meet you, Dorothy," Mayer said, smiling.
"We'll probably be back sometime later on." 

She nodded to both of them, taking a large bite of her
remaining sandwich and gulping the rest down, chewing
quickly and dashing away to the study. 

As she expected, the door was locked, but she placed
her hand to the fingerprint ID panel and it clicked
open for her. Her grandfather was no longer there, and
she went over to the bookcase, scanning the titles of
books, not sure what she was looking for. 

Duke Dermail had moved to this house in France from
his previous residence in Spain about ten years ago.
She'd only been a child then, so she didn't remember
much, and he had never explained to her why he had
decided to leave the old Catalonia family home for
this newly built one. She supposed he had his reasons
- he always did - but the move might mean that many of
her family's older belongings had been lost. 

Mayer had said that Alicia had been rebellious. Would
her grandfather have kept anything of hers at all? 

She was looking in the wrong place, she decided, and
went out through the back door of the study, up the
back staircase, to the second floor. The hall was dark
and she switched on the light, counting doors until
she came to the one she wanted. It was not locked, and
as she passed through, the automatic light snapped on.


The room was full of boxes. Boxes from the move, which
the servants had not gotten around to sorting, and
probably never would, considering that it had already
been ten years. The boxes were labeled, which was a
good thing, Dorothy decided as she waded in, turning
over box after box, looking. 

Some of the boxes were heavy and she soon found
herself coated in a light sheen of sweat. The dress
was heavy and not made for moving boxes, but she
pressed on. She was actually pretty sure that she had
seen this box before, when she used to play up here as
a child. The servants would scold her and warn her
never to come in here, as she might "break something,"
but there was little chance of that, since most of the
things in the boxes were packed carefully, and even if
she did break something, there was slim chance of
anyone finding out. 

There it was. 

It was a box labeled "Miscellaneous," but she knew
that it held some old pairs of boys' socks (her
father's?) a few misplaced and broken gadgets
(screwdrivers, can openers), and some books. She
hadn't known whose the books were, though she'd had a
suspicion, as the handwriting in them where the notes
were in the margins was definitely female. Opening the
box, she rummaged through and pulled out the first
book. 

Songs of Innocence and Experience, the title read, by
William Blake. 

She had read the poems before, but opened the book and
flipped through it. There were notes in the margins,
some of them quite long. Alicia Catalonia had loved
poetry, apparently, because there were more of William
Blake's books inside the box, as well as a compilation
of poetry by H�ctor Rosales and several other volumes
by Federico Garc�a Lorca. John Milton's Paradise Lost
was the last book of the bunch, and she set them down
on the floor beside her, wondering what had possessed
her to go to all that trouble to gather a few of her
aunts' old books. 

She opened the first volume again, turned randomly to
the middle of the section and noticed a passage
highlighted in at least three different colors. 

Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair 

Alicia had gone to the trouble of underlining it as
well, and Dorothy traced over it with her fingers,
wondering what was so important about this passage of
poetry that would warrant her aunt's attention. The
scarf around her shoulders suddenly felt cold and she
wondered if Alicia would mind, her niece taking the
scarf that had been hers without asking. 

"Aunt?" Dorothy said hesitantly to the empty room.
"You don't mind, do you? That I�m wearing this? It was
my father's�I don't know how you felt about him, but I
never knew him. So I'd appreciate it if you would let
me keep it for a little while." 

There was no answer, obviously, but she suddenly
realized that she had been partly expecting one, and
she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was
holding in, picking up the books and slipping out of
the room. The light turned off and she closed the
door, making her way up to her room on the third
floor, where she dumped the books on the bed. 

The bathroom door was ajar. The cat had gotten out
after all, gone probably in search of supper, and she
smoothed the bedspread under her fingers. The curtains
on her window were drawn back, and outside, it was
snowing. 

Mayer's face came into her mind, his voice saying, She
was a strange one. No one ever really knew her, not
even her own brother, I don't believe. 

Dorothy wondered what her father would have to say
about her aunt, if he had still been alive. She'd
never know now, but after all, some things were better
left unknown. 

But she was very beautiful, I'll give you that. 

Smoothing the scarf again, she got up, unwrapping it
from her shoulders and folding it loosely into a
square, tucking it into one of her drawers. On second
thought, she took it back out, laid it flat on the bed
and bundled the books up in it, placing it back into
the drawer. 

"There you go, Aunt," she said, closing the drawer.
"It's yours again." 

"Lady Dorothy?" 

She jumped, then realized it was a voice down the
hallway. Feeling slightly foolish that whoever it was
had caught her talking to thin air, she whirled
around, but it was only a servant who had just arrived
at the door. "Your grandfather is looking for you." 

"I'll be there," she said, pretending to adjust her
hair in the mirror until she heard his footsteps fade
down the hall. The drawer tempted her, but she glared
at it and went to the door, looking back and flipping
off the light. 

But she was very beautiful. 

She closed the door behind her. 
 
[Fall on your knees; oh, hear the angel voices
Oh night divine! Oh night when Christ was born
Oh night divine! Oh night, Oh night divine!] 
 

END NAVIDAD



Notes: 

- The Catalonia family is Spanish, while the
Khushrenadas are of French/German descent. All of them
are (of course) members of upper society. This whole
story takes place over a time span of 18 years. 

- I have the Catalonia family estate located in the
region of Galicia in northern Spain, close to the
Galician capital, Santiago de Compestela (a famous
religious site for Catholic pilgrims). For more
information on Galicia, go to
http://www.red2000.com/spain/region/r-galic.html 

- Navidad means "Christmas" in Spanish 

- Etille is fluent in Mandarin, being an OZ
Intelligence officer stationed in Beijing, so he is
speaking to the pig seller and the little boy in
Mandarin. 

- Adi�s, mi se�ora bella�adi�s, fantasma mia.:
Spanish, "Goodbye, my beautiful lady, goodbye, ghost
of mine." 

- English titles for the songs used in Parts 1 through
4
Part 1: A Light Shines in the Sky [Traditional Spanish
Villancico]
Part 2: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel [Latin hymn]
Part 3: Still, Still, Still [Austrian carol]
Part 4: Oh Holy Night [German carol]
The italicized verses are all from Scarborough Fair,
traditional English folk song. 



=====
"No matter what the bible says, the battle always goes to
the strong. And I am strong. I don't need to prove that to
anyone anymore."
-Excerpt from Sainan no Kekka- Act Seven, Scene VII

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Quicksilver/
http://www.midnightrevolution.org/gundam

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