AN: I read about half and hour worth of the Romany culture, commonly referred to as Gypsy. (I read somewhere that this is kind of a derogatory name, but sorry! This is what I will call them, though the correct name is Romany). I’m going to use some phrases and words from different dialects, but bear with me please. I will try to use them correctly, but if I don’t please don’t flame me. There were different spellings and some of the words are different.

father= dadro

mother= baj

brother= prala

sister= pena

raklo= non gypsy boy

gajo= non gypsy adult male

tzerha= tent, house hold

vurdon= wagon

And bokoli us just a thick pancake with meat inside.

Gitana

by Oyuki

Chapter 1

The street was crowded with people. Many of them just passing by, and some of them actually there to see the shows put on by the traveling gypsies. Prince Milliardo Peacecraft rode his black stallion to the side of the throng of people. He was careful to avoid any accidents that might occur. The gypsies were a band that came annually at the same time of the year. They had do so for many years and this year was no different. Perhaps he would stop and see one of their performances when he had the time before they gathered their tents and their people and rode off. He smiled a little at that. He had always enjoyed their tricks and foods, since he was a child. A scowl marred his handsome face. He remembered how she used to enjoy the gypsy people. She had smiled brightly at him. A fake smile that would soon bring him pain. She hadn’t been punished for what she did, but she should have been. They had thought of that afterwards, but they had not been able to find her again. It was as if she had vanished.

Milliardo shook his head to clear it of those thoughts. He glanced behind him to see his escorts. His best friend and brother-in-law, Baron Heero Yuy rode beside him. “Why do you look so glum?” he asked, bringing his horse to a light pace directly beside the prince. “Are you perhaps remembering those days?”

“You can read me too well,” he said quietly, looking at his best friend.

“They are not worth your thoughts. She’s not worth your thoughts, Milliardo. What she did--”

“Don’t, I made it clear I never wanted to speak of this-- of her-- again!” he hissed.

“I apologize,” said Heero not looking at Milliardo anymore. So much time had passed and he still could not kill the love he’d felt for that... woman. A woman who had betrayed him with his own cousin.

“I am sorry for snapping at you like that, Heero. It is just that this is not a pleasant subject. It will never be.”

“I do not mean to intrude, or to tell you what to do, but you know you have to find a woman to make your wife. Look for one, I am sure that there are plenty of young women out there who will be happy to become your wife. And besides, you need an heir. Forget her, she did not deserve your love.”

“I know,” said Milliardo. “But I love her, I can’t forget her. My heart is stubborn and it still holds her memory, but I thank you, Heero. You are the brother that I never had, and now even more so since you have married my sister.”

“And you know I consider you my brother also. Please forgive me, I did not mean to bring back old memories.” He waved his hand to clear the air between them. “It looks like the gypsies have brought all their family this year. They have many more tents and carriages.”

Milliardo smiled. “Yes, look we have come to the end of the carnival tents,” he said pointing to where two girls where standing. The two girls were selling ‘bokoli’, a kind of pancake with chunks of meat in it.

“Are you hungry, Heero?” asked Milliardo pointing to the table and the two girls.

Heero smiled. “I wouldn’t mind bokoli if you’re willing to pay for it.”

“I will. Let’s get closer.”

The two girls were talking in their Romany dialect, they did not notice the young men that approached. “Nadja, when are you going to accept Renzo?” her companion giggled.

“Nata! Don’t say things like that! You know Baj and Dadro--”

“Oh Nadja, you know they would love for you to marry him! Stop making excuses.”

“You know it is not just that, Nata, also...” she trailed off. Her blue eyes downcast.

“Oh we have customers. And they are handsome, Nadja!” she said to her younger sister. She smiled at the young men. Nata looked at her sister whose profile was to the young men, her black bangs obscuring her features.

“Welcome!” said Nata loudly and with a heavy accent. “You want to buy bokoli from Nata and her pena?” she asked.

“Yes, we’ll have two,” said Heero. He looked over at his friend who was looking at the girl’s sister. All they could see was that she was tall, and, from what escaped her bandana, she had violet-black hair. Her bangs hiding her face from them. “What are you looking at? Milliardo?” asked Heero.

“Look at her! She looks like...”

“Is there something wrong with my sister, my lord?” asked Nata, looking at the young man.

“Your sister? What is her name?” asked Milliardo in a hushed voice.

“You can ask her, she can speak your language,” she said nudging Nadja forward.

Nadja felt strange talking to these men. Her baj would tell her not to talk to them, they were gajo, they were not to be trusted. She lifter her eyes and turned her head towards the young men.

The blue flash of her eyes startled both men. Milliardo’s eyes got wide, his breath caught in his throat. He was staring at the face of Lady Lucrezia Noin. The woman he had been searching for the last ten years. The woman who had betrayed him.

“My name is Nadja, my lord,” she said in his direction, not looking at his eyes.

“You! What are you doing here?” yelled Heero. The outburst making both young women jump. What was going on?

Nadja’s eyes moved wildly. “What do you mean? I’m traveling with my family!” she said. A pounding started at her temple. ‘No, not this again!’ she thought.

“Lucrezia, why did you come back?” said Milliardo hoarsely.

“My name is Nadja, not this Lucrezia. I have never met you before,” she said defensively.

“You’re lying! I could recognize you anywhere. Look me in the eye and tell me that you do not know who I am! Look at me!” he commanded.

“My lord, why are you doing this? Leave, please or I will call our father!” yelled Nata.

“You are both lying! Do not try to protect her!” said Heero and moved towards her. Nadja had not time to react. Her dancer’s reflexes not quite fast enough for the young man.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Stop it!” yelled Nata. “Dadro! Dadro! Nicolae!”

Milliardo stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. Before him was Lucrezia, the one person he hated, and loved, the most in the world. He saw the genuine expression of fear on her face. She was scared of Heero, he was shaking her. It didn’t register.

******

Milosh heard the distant yells of one of his daughters. He had been giving a show with their animals. He motioned to one of the men around him and ran to his son, Nicolae. “Do you hear that?” he asked of his oldest child.

“Father, it is my sisters!”

“I know, let’s go.” Both men ran to the where the last of the tzerha were.

*****

Nadja’s headache had gotten worse. Now the pounding was not only in her temple but in the back of her head and between her eyes. She fought against the stranger that had a hold of her shoulders. She was scared and that didn’t help her pain at all.

Nata had a hold of the man’s shoulder, trying to push him off her sister. A larger figure loomed behind her and grabbed the slightly shorter man from the shoulders and pushed him off.

He kneeled in front of Nadja, hesitating on whether to comfort her or beat the crap out of the man who had dared to touch her. He decided against touching her, men were not allowed to touch women of they were not part of their family or if they did not intend to marry, and Nadja had not yet given her consent to marry him. Renzo turned to the stranger in a fury. “How dare you touch her?” he shouted.

For the first time Heero doubted his actions. He had heard somewhere that the women were not allowed to touch, or be touched by any man unless they were family or ready to marry. “She-- she’s not who you think she is!” he said.

“I apologize for my friend,” said Milliardo, speaking for the first time. He looked at the man. He was tall, strongly built with long, black hair and sky blue eyes. His gaze was intense as he looked from one to the other. His large fists were clenching and unclenching. He looked over at the woman, the woman Milliardo was sure was Lucrezia. She was sitting on the floor, her sister kneeling next to her. She was holding her head, her face was a mask of pain. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he was damn sure that girl was Lucrezia and she had changed her name to Nadja. He heard footsteps approaching and turned to them. Two more men approached and a crowd had begun to form. “Nata, Nadja, what happened?” asked the old man who approached. He was followed by another young man with jet black hair and gray eyes.

“Renzo, go back to your duties!” Milosh said sharply before turning to his daughter again.

The tall young gypsy obeyed his king and reluctantly left the place.

“Dadra, we were selling the bokoli and that man attacked Nadja,” explained Nata in Romany dialect. Milosh kneeled in front of Nadja. “Are you okay, Nadja?” he asked.

“No, my head hurts so much, dadro!” she moaned.

“You will be alright. Nicolae! Help me get your sister to our vurdon!” he called to his son.

Nicolae was staring at the man with the long platinum hair and icy eyes. They stared at each other.

“She is the daughter of Milosh?” asked Heero to no one in particular. Milosh was the gypsy king.

“Nicolae!” said Milosh sharply. “Nata, go get your mother!” he said turning to his oldest daughter.

“Yes father!” said the girl running to the vurdon.

“Why did you attack my daughter?” asked Milosh, his voice, like Nata’s and Renzo’s, was thickly accented.

“She is your daughter? She is Lucrezia, Milosh,” said Milliardo.

Milosh, for the first time, looked at the young men. “Prince Milliardo, what are you saying? This is only my youngest child, Nadja. What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie, Milosh. Just because you covered her hair and dressed her like a gypsy does not mean that she is one of you! That is my wife, Lucrezia!”

“Is your wife gitana, like my daughter?” asked Milosh. “I tell you that this is my blood daughter.”

*****

Nadja was swimming in pain. She had constant headaches, but this one was like no other. She was going to pass out, she could feel it. Her hearing was very fuzzy, like she was under water and she could hear her heart beat clearly in her ears. Her vision swam, she couldn’t make out the figures around her, though she was sure one of them was her father. Her breathing was labored. She closed her eyes to better withstand the pain. She couldn’t take it anymore. She gave in to the pull of unconsciousness, the endless darkness.

“Nadja!” exclaimed her mother, Pesha. “Milosh, what has happened?” she asked looking at her husband.

Miosh looked up at the young men then at his wife and said, “Nothing, Pesha. Nadja had another one of her headaches. Nicolae, help me get your sister into the vurdon!” he ordered again.

Nicolae moved to where his sister was on the floor. He bend down and picked the young woman up easily in strong arms. He followed his mother and Nata into the vurdon. His father stayed behind with the young lords.

“I don’t want you to ever say that about my daughter again,” he said to Milliardo, his gray eyes flashing. “Do not speak to her, do not even look at her if it is at all possible.”

“We are right in assuming that she is Lady Lucrezia?” asked Heero, looking directly at the old man.

“She is Nadja, youngest daughter of Milosh and Pesha, sister to Nicolae and Nata. That is who she is and no one else. Leave us be!” he said harshly.

“Not when I’ve just found her! I want to know why she betrayed me!” said Milliardo. “I will not rest until I have found out the truth.”

“What truth? She is nothing but a gypsy child! She was born a gypsy, and she will marry a gypsy, and she will die a gypsy, do you hear, raklo?” Milosh said breathlessly. ‘May I be forgiven for lying,’ he thought. ‘I do this only to spare her any more pain.’

“She is my wife! I have every legal right to take her from here!”

“Prove to me that she is your wife, gajo! Prove to me she is who you say she is! Was your wife a gypsy dancer? Did she have memories of growing up in a gypsy camp? Nadja is my daughter and nothing more, leave her be!”

“Then tell me the truth! Is she Lady Lucrezia Noin?” yelled Milliardo.

Milosh sighed. He had never wanted this day to come, yet he knew that someday it would. And while Nadja did not remember anything, the rest of the tribe knew the truth. “I will tell you her story, but not here. Follow me into my tzerha.” The old man walked swiftly to the tent. The young men followed quickly. Once insice he sat in a cushion in the middle of the tzerha and motioned for them to sit down