Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Mother Of His Heir ❯ Mother Of His Heir ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. This fan fiction has no commercial value, and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this story or the use of characters owned by Sunrise and Bandai.

 

 

Mother Of His Heir

 

 

Mrs. Winner stood in her husband's office and stared out the window. She twirled her fingers around her pearl necklace. She could not stand the waiting. She refused to allow herself to pace, so all she could do is stand and look at the colony from her husband's office, waiting for the news. She had a companion with her, her oldest daughter, sitting on the couch reading a magazine. They waited in silence, and that, perhaps, made it even worse.

 

“Calm down, Mother,” Iria softly commanded. “These things take time.” Then, she looked up at the older woman's back and, with a malicious glint in her eye, added, “Though you wouldn't know.”

 

She sent a severe look to her daughter. “If I knew about that, we both wouldn't be here,” she reminded. She turned and walked around the office. “Still, this is taking quite long enough. How long has it been now?”

 

Iria looked to her watch. “Nearly twenty hours now.”

 

“The little bastard is taking his sweet time,” she growled.

 

“Mother!”

 

“Oh, hush, Iria.” She rolled her eyes. “I don't see how we have to pay for your father's mistake. He gets his little whore pregnant, and he expects me to just sit by while he uses our money to pay for all her medical bills.”

 

“It is his child, Mother,” her child reminded. “Also rumored to be his new heir.” A satisfying smile came to her face as her mother's face contorted at the last comment.

 

“Don't remind me. I give him twenty-nine children! He insists he will not make his nephew heir because he believes that his daughter will do just as good a job. Suddenly his slut on the side allows herself to get knocked up, all signs point to a boy, and all of a sudden my daughters are out of the picture just like that!” She snapped her fingers to prove her point.

 

“Maybe we'll be lucky, Mother, and it'll turn out to be a bitch,” Iria said in a harsh, sarcastic tone.

 

“We can only hope,” Mrs. Winner muttered, either not catching her tone or simply ignoring it. Iria shook her head and put down her magazine, full disgusted with the conversation.

 

“You know she'll die. She'll die, and that baby will be motherless. Father will ask you to be his mother.” She looked to her mother with determination, trying to will her to do what was right.

 

She turned her back on her daughter and stared at the bookcase. She knew she should take the high road; the child need never know the truth. However, she also knew that whenever she looked at the babe, she would see that whore, the one who stole her husband. Her husband had had other flings and mistresses, but none had captured his heart like this Quatrine woman. She had met the woman a couple times because her husband had had the audacity to bring that wench to a few parties, as if he were parading his beautiful young bride around to his friends proudly.

 

Before she could respond to her child, a servant burst through the doors. “Mrs. Winner! Mrs. Winner!” She noticed Iria and added, “Miss Winner! Ms. Quatrine has had the child! It's a boy! There's a new heir.” She left as quickly as she entered, off to do some task upon which Mr. Winner set her.

 

“So it is true,” Iria said softly, looking at the floor. “I'm officially replaced as heir.” She looked over and saw her mother staring off into space. She looked fragile and very scared of what could happen to her position.

 

Then I'm officially not the mother of his heir anymore, Mrs. Winner thought. He would never toss her aside; he was a good man, but her position in the family as well as in society was weakened. The child survived the birthing; once he was in the world, he was free of complications, and his life was out of danger.

 

“Mother?” asked Iria. “Mother, it'll be okay.”

 

“No, my dear, it will never be the same again,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and clutched her necklace. She would not cry in front of her child. “This child is the start of something new.”

 

Iria looked out the window. Everyone out there continued with their loves; they did not know the shift in power happening within the Winner family. Her mother's relatives would not have as much influence over her father, and it was possible they would not receive as much support. However, she greatly doubted her father would cut them off.

 

“No one will know, at least. Since you did not give birth to the babe, the press will just assume he is another test tube baby. No one will know he had a mother who carried him,” she tried to comfort her mother. This was how it was these days. Her mother and she would be dangerously close to telling off each other, and the next moment, something would sober them, and they would be very quiet, close again.

 

“I don't give a damn what the public thinks.” She really did. “I don't care what happens to the harlot and her bastard.” Well, she might a little. “I just worry about what happens to you girls.” She omitted “and myself.” “Your father is a good man, but he could very well forsake us for his precious child.”

 

“Father would never do that,” Iria insisted. “You say he's a good man; well, he's a great man. He loves us all, including you and the `whore.' I'm upset with him about his little flings, too, but I know he still loves you. I see how he looks at you. He doesn't want to hurt you, and I know it pains him to know that he has.”

 

Mrs. Winner pursed her lips and looked away. Iria was too old. She could not hide her wound from the girl, no matter how hard she tried.

 

The door opened, and both women turned to see Mr. Winner enter the room holding a bundle, wearing an expression mixed with pride, joy, and sadness. “She's left this world.” Iria immediately went to his side and to look at her new little brother. Mrs. Winner hesitantly took her place on his other side.

 

“He's beautiful,” their daughter said and forced a smile. She had begun to cry. “I'm going to go call and tell the others. Congratulations, Father. He's wonderful…just magnificent.” She quickly left the room to inform her sisters.

 

The couple stood there for a moment in silence, unsure of what to say. “Darling,” he said eventually.

 

“He…looks just like her,” she managed to say. He shifted the boy to his other arm and wrapped his free arm around his wife's waist, holding her close to him.

 

“His name is Quatre,” he informed. He tore his gaze from the baby and observed his wife. She was as beautiful as ever. She held a more sophisticated beauty while Quatrine had been blessed with a more carefree beauty. Even if he could have proposed, Quatrine never would have married him, and his wonderful wife knew he wished he could have, yet she still stayed by his side.

 

Now, worry came upon her face. He knew about her mixed feelings on his new little heir. He wanted her to have maternal feelings toward the boy; he needed a mother. To assure her that he was still there for her, he went to kiss her. She saw it coming and turned her head so that just gave her a strong kiss on the cheek.

 

He looked at the infant and saw pride and joy; she looked at the baby and saw her doom.