AN: I’d just like to point out that in the 1st chap. it says ‘her daner’s reflexes’ I meant to say dancer’s. Noin is a gypsy dancer.

Gitana

By Oyuki

Chapter 2

Milliardo looked at the celebrating gypsies through his cover of trees and vegetation. Beside him, Heero kept watch on the vurdon where they both knew Lucrezia was sleeping. He didn’t know what Milosh and his people were celebrating, but he hoped it took them a long time. He was determined to talk to Lucrezia, or Nadja, whatever her name was at the moment.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Heero asked his brother-in-law. “We can just leave, pretend we never saw her. You have no need to bring her back to the castle!”

“I just want to talk to her, Heero. I do not want to kidnap her!” Milliardo snapped. He turned back to the celebration.

Heero saw her sister, Nata, climb out of the vurdon and signaled Milliardo that the coast was clear. He didn’t know how Milliardo had convinced him to help him. He had seen how much her leaving had hurt him. He’d been fifteen when their fathers had engaged him to the pretty Lady Lucrezia Noin, and within two months they were married. It had been great for those few months, young Milliardo had fallen in love with his young bride. And apparently she had fallen in love with him, until his cousin, Treize came into the picture. Heero shook his head, not wanting to remember what had happened. He had been pretty young, younger than Milliardo and had not really understood what had happened. All he knew is that Lucrezia had run away one night, the same night that Treize was to return home. The whole castle had known that the duke, Treize, had become smitten with the young princess. No one was surprised when she’d turned up missing that night.

Milliardo had already walked up to the door of the vurdon. Heero ran silently towards him to keep watch that nobody found out he was there. “You had better know what you are doing, Milliardo,” he warned. “And you had better hurry. We’ve wasted too much time here... and with the rebellion...” Heero trailed off.

Before stepping through the door, Milliardo put his hand on Heero’s shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

Heero managed a small smile despite his cool nature. “Hurry up, I want to be done with this,” he said warningly.

Milliardo walked into the darkened vurdon. Light from the bonfire outside came in through the window. He could see that there were many things in the small wagon where Nadja and her sister slept. There were brightly colored skirts and shirts hanging from nails on the walls and colorful scarves along with them. Boxes with jewelry sat on a small table. The only other furniture besides the two beds and the one chair in the vurdon.

He could clearly see the lump in one of the beds despite the darkness. Milliardo took a deep breath and headed towards the bed. Nadja was sleeping peacefully on her side, one of her hands was curled beside her hair. She looked like the teenage Lucy he remembered. Her skin was smooth, without a single blemish. Her lashes just as dark, just as thick as he remembered them. He reached down with one of his hands, gently touching her short hair, which she had taken out of the scarf she’d been wearing. Just as soft as he’d remembered. But she had grown taller, her body acquiring soft curves in all the right places. She was a full grown woman of 24 now.

Nadja stirred at his soft touch, gently coming out of her slumber. She opened her eyes but she couldn’t see much. All she could see was a shadow standing before her with long, silky platinum hair. His hair was illuminated by the firelight that came through the open window. Her eyes widened as she recognized him as the man who’d almost attacked her earlier that day. “Gajo,” she whispered. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” she said in English this time.

Milliardo’s breath quickened a little when he realized that she had awakened. He quickly withdrew his hand and placed it his side. “Do you remember me?” he asked softly, getting straight to the point.

“Yes, you’re the man who attacked me earlier today,” she said just as softly. Something in her told her not to be afraid of this man. That is why she had not screamed.

“I didn’t attack you,” he said, shaking his head. Her voice had gotten just the tiniest bit deeper. It had matured, but it had the same effect that it’d had when they were young. He closed his eyes, it was the voice of his love, his betrayer, his princess, Lucrezia Noin.

“You almost did,” she said defensively. “What are you doing here, Gajo?”

“Do you remember meeting me before today?” he asked.

Nadja sat up in the bed. “No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Are you certain? Please try to remember, Nadja. It is imperative that you do!”

Nadja shook her head again. “I’ve never seen before today, my lord,” she stated.

Milliardo was bombarded with a rush of memories. Hearing her say ‘my lord’ brought so many memories flooding back. More so than when she called him ‘gajo’. The memories almost brought tears to his eyes. He closed them, not wanting to speak. He knew that if he spoke at that moment his voice would fail him and break. He took a steadying breath. “You have to remember, Lucrezia!” he said harshly. “You’re lying to me!” he hissed.

“My lord, why would I lie to you? I don’t even know you!” She could see him better now. She’d thought him a very handsome man, a very beautiful man. The long hair, the icy blue eyes gave him a certain air, something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Swear to me that you do not lie when you say you don’t know me! Swear to me on something precious to you that you have never seen me!” he whispered harshly. He was crying. All those years he’d spent searching for her against the wishes of his mother, his sister and his now-brother-in-law, Heero. All for nothing! She didn’t remember him!

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned etched in her voice.

“I’m fine,” he said hoarsely and walked out of the vurdon.

Nadja stared after him, confused. Why had he been there?

*~*~*~*

Outside and far from the gypsy town grounds Milliardo rode his horse slowly. He hadn’t said a word since leaving Nadja.

Beside his, Heero looked at his best friend. “What happened in there?” he asked for the tenth time.

“It was her,” Milliardo whispered.

Heero’s eyes widened. “Are you absolutely certain?” He had hoped it wasn’t true, that the girl was just a look-alike. “What do you plan to do now? Are you going to bring her back to the castle?”

Milliardo shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said monotonously. “I don’t know.”

No more words were spoken on the rest of their ride home.

Tbc…

AN: Just one thing: I read on The Patrim Web Journal, that marriages in the Romany culture happen not before the age of nine but not after the age of 14. If you want to read this then go to http://www.geocities.com/Paris/5121/marriage.htm

abiav = marriage or the celebration of the marriage, I’m not sure.