DISCLAIMER: As Gundam Seed was created by Mitsuo Fukada, and Twelfth Night was created by William Shakespeare, so is this fic created by me (Ruru Kitsuneko)…

AUTHOR'S NOTES 1.1: This is the first chapter of Twelfth Night. I've used the Gundam Seed characters to be in my own version of Shakespeare's play Twelfth Night, which is my very favorite among all his plays. I've watched the movie, but I haven't actually read the play, so I may diverge from the original plot a bit. I've tweaked the story around a little to suit my taste, as you'll see when the fic progresses. To those who don't know what Twelfth Night is all about, I'll place a list of the characters that will appear per chapter: who they are in GS and they're real names in the play. This is my first Gundam Seed fic (that I've actually written—I have a lot, but I seem to be too lazy to write them), so I hope you enjoy it!

CHARACTERS:

Lacus Clyne (Olivia) – a rich countess, mourning the death of her brother

Athrun Zala (Orsino) – the Duke of Illyria, in love with Lacus

Yzak Jule and Dearka Elsman (OCs that are not included in the original play) – the Marquis of Oceania and Baron Elsman respectively, friends of the Duke with whom he confides his thoughts

CHAPTER 1: COURTING COUNTESS CLYNE

"So," Sir Dearka Elsman began, his lavender eyes gleaming with interest, as he sat with his two closest friends, the Duke of Illyria and the Marquis of Oceania, in the Duke's study. "Has she said 'yes', yet?"

Athrun Zala, Duke of Illyria, shot his cheerful friend a sardonic glance and replied in a voice tinged with sarcasm, "Does it look like she has?"

Yzak Jule, Marquis of Oceania, snorted in irritation, his vivid blue eyes flashing his comedic friend a somewhat reprimanding glare. "I can't believe you're even asking such a stupid question." His gaze then swung to his blue-haired, green-eyed friend, and he bit out, "Why the hell is it taking so damn long anyway?"

"You're not seriously thinking I haven't asked myself that question in the past seven years, have you?" Athrun replied raising an eyebrow at his friend's question.

Yzak slammed his hand down on the desk. "Then why in the world don't you just forget about her and move onto some other woman, dammit! This is ludicrous."

"Not so, Yzak, my friend," Dearka drawled cheerfully, clearly relishing his friends' vexation. "If one is in love, one moves heaven and earth in order to be with the object of one's heart's desire, even if takes eternity."

"What?" Yzak snapped.

Dearka breathed a long-suffering sigh. "I said—"

"I know what you said!" Yzak hissed through clenched teeth. "I just can't believe you're seriously thinking like it. This is not something to laugh about."

"I beg to differ," Dearka began in mock indignation. "I'll have you know, that the Countess Clyne is a very fetching woman—even in black." He finished this statement with a roguish wink.

Athrun couldn't help but grin at his friend's outlandish statements. "Too true. Too true."

"I'm glad you find this amusing," Yzak said coldly.

Dearka laughed. "He has to. Good God. Seven years! And she's still saying no. If it were me," he continued still chortling, "I'd have her abducted and—why don't you do that?"

Athrun's piercing emerald gaze pinned his friend. "I would never do such a thing without her consent."

Yzak snorted. "That's why it's called 'kidnapping', you ass; because it's being done without the person's permission. What the hell are you saying?"

"You know what I mean," Athrun replied in a meaningful tone.

Yzak sighed and flopped his head back on the headrest of the chair in which he was currently reposing. "What in the world do you see in her anyway?" he muttered. "And don't tell me it's because she's beautiful; we've seen a lot of beautiful women."

"He's right, mate," Dearka chimed in, propping his legs up onto the desk. "What does it have to be this particular lady?"

Athrun's countenance turned thoughtful. He seemed to gaze inward for a moment, before answering slowly, " I think it's because" —he paused— "she's the only one I can see spending a lifetime with, without wanting to jump off a cliff or shoot my brains out."

"How wonderfully romantic," Dearka said dryly.

Yzak cocked his head slightly to the side and stared at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"That's it!" he said suddenly.

"That's what?" Athrun and Dearka asked in unison.

"Romance."

"I beg your pardon?" Athrun asked startled.

Yzak sighed with impatience. "For someone who's such a gentleman, you're sure clueless about women."

"And you're such an expert?" Athrun asked raising his eyebrow in arrogant disbelief.

"How have you been proposing to her?" Yzak continued ignoring his friend's smart-ass comeback.

"The usual," Athrun responded sardonically. "A note requesting for the honor of her hand in marriage."

"And you're wondering why it's taking seven years—and counting?" Dearka muttered the last phrase under his breath.

Athrun's glare was his answer.

'What an idiot,' were the mutual thoughts of Dearka and Yzak, though they were not aware of the other's thoughts.

Athrun must've been sensitive enough to sense the gist of their unvoiced disparagement of his own mental faculties—at least, where women were concerned—and showed it through his annoyed statement. "Well then," he said sarcasm heavy in his voice, "what do you two experienced connoisseurs advice a certain novice with that same predicament?"

"Court her," Yzak said baldly.

Athrun snorted. "And what did you think I was doing for the past seven years? Getting married?"

"Save the sarcasm, Athrun," Dearka remarked pointedly, as he tilted his chair on its two back legs and slowly rocked backwards and forwards using his feet still propped on the desk as leverage.

"Not the way you've been doing it," Yzak said impatiently, more concerned with getting his friend his supposed heart's desire and matrimonial prospect than in soothing his ruffled feathers. "Don't treat it like a business proposition. Put some romance into it."

"But it is a business proposition," Athrun said exasperatedly. "I'm suited for her; she's suited for me. I'm not going to lie to her just so I can get her to the altar."

"You're not going to lie to her," Dearka said, restraining from rolling his eyes at his friend in exasperation.

Athrun was always straightforward and honorable. He stood by his beliefs and his friends, and he was the perfect gentleman to women, but then—that was the problem: he was, too much of a gentleman.

"Look," Yzak began, speaking to Athrun in a tone that was reminiscent of a parent explaining the facts of life to his ignorant child. "You can't just say you want to marry her. Obviously, she already knows that. You have to show her, just how badly you want her."

"You want me to sleep with her?" Athrun asked blankly.

Dearka smacked his hand against his forehead.

"Yes, why don't you do that," Yzak said sarcastically.

Athrun opened his mouth to reply to that outrageous statement, but Dearka forestalled him. "Athrun, that's not the point. If you can get that woman to marry you, you'll sleep with her anyway. But before you can get around to the wedding night, you have to get through the wedding first, and as things are going, it's not likely to come around anytime soon."

"So what do you expect me to do?" Athrun nearly yelled in frustration.

"Show her that you're serious," Dearka pointed out, elaborating on Yzak's simple explanation. "Show her that you can't live without her. Be romantic. Don't say anything about marriage: that can come for later. Send her notes—"

"If I can't say anything about marriage, then what in the world should I say to her?" Athrun cut in.

"Poetry, of course," Yzak said in a tone that clearly said it should be obvious to anyone—who wasn't an idiot.

"Of course?" Athrun echoed.

"With flowers and trinkets," Dearka added. "Ladies love flowers and trinkets," he drawled sending a wink in Yzak's direction.

Athrun quickly glanced from one to the other. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, he asked, "What have you guys been doing without me?"

The fact that neither of his friends could look him straight in the eye was answer enough.

"Right," he said in a knowing voice.

After a moment's silence, Athrun spoke up again. "Alright. Let's say for a moment that I'm going to follow your illustrious advice: how will I do it? The flowers and trinkets are easy, but Lacus loves poetry. Meanwhile, I couldn't make heads or tails of it even if I tried."

"Then don't do it," Dearka replied.

"I beg your pardon?" Athrun asked, looking at him in disbelief. "You're the one who suggested it."

"I'm not saying don't do it," Dearka answered, taking his feet off his friend's desk and putting them back on the floor where they belonged. "Get someone else to do it."

At Athrun's blank look, Yzak clarified impatiently, "Hire somebody. You're rich enough. You can afford to get the best."

Athrun pondered on his friends' suggestion all throughout their visit. And when Yzak and Dearka took their leave the next day, promising to drop by again in two weeks time, he was still thinking about it…

A/N 1.2: Hope you liked it! Next chapter will have Kira and Cagalli. If you guys are wondering where Nicol is, I don't know yet. I'm trying to see which way the characters will fit as we go along. Ja!