As a child, she had tried to be the best, the smartest, the prettiest. She didn't go to school, stayed home.
"No! Eclair, you are a girl. You will stay at home to learn how to become a good wife, for that is all you will ever become." Eclair had cried that day, in the face of her mother's words. She was seven years old.
She was cold, always cold. Eclair was cold when she had a heater in front of her, when she had hot water surrounding her. Cold.
And lonely.
She had been ten when she was given a new nurse. She was small, with blond hair and a sad face. Eclair had stared at her, and decided that she was not going to be a bother. Eclair didn't feel. For her mother, or father, her toys, or her servants. They were nothing.
One day, Eclair found her staring at Eclair's piano. She didn't use it, but she didn't want other people to use it either.
She had turned and said hurriedly,
"Beg pardon, Miss!"
Eclair stared at her coldly, walked by and dragged a finger through the dust.
"Do you play, Madam?"
The woman shook a yes, her arm curved over her body as if she was breaking and must hold herself together.
"My... son did, once. I don't know if he does so anymore." She smiled sadly.
Eclair wanted to learn to play piano.
"Mother. I want to learn. You will allow it." Eclair had stood, dominant in the matter. Her mother had shuddered and sent for books. Even her mother was afraid, just like the servants. Her pets, which were in abundance, though she did not want them, cowered when they saw her.
Eclair had shown no surprise when it was decided the woman was going to teach her.
Her name was Anne-Sophie.
She was kind to Eclair, moving her fingers over the keys. She did not quit when Eclair became angry, which she sometimes was, even when Eclair threw the books and slammed the piano. And she kept Eclair's secrets.
She spoke of her family and her past, and one day, she spoke of her son. When Anne-Sophie began, she couldn't stop, and spoke of him so often Eclair began to feel as if she knew him.
Eclair was to be sent to Japan, to marry a wealthy boy, and make him a man.
She did not cry or weep when her servants said goodbye, or even her mother and father. But she hugged Anne-Sophie, a pleasant surprise for her, since Eclair did not like to be touched.
She went to Japan, and met the boy.
His name was Tamaki.
He was beautiful.
She cried, for the first time since she was seven, because he was to be hers, but his heart belonged to another.
Her name was Haruhi.
She observed, this polite girl. She was common, but, she held herself with grace and she despised Eclair.
Eclair didn't care. She would have him, this boy/man, and she loved him.
She didn't like his friends, especially the dark one.
She didn't like people who were as smart as her.
He glared at her, they all did, his play family, but she did not care. She was to replace them, that was what would happen. She wanted it, and she would get it.
He was hers. Tamaki and Eclair. She wrote it obssesively, everywhere, to assure it would happen. She wrote it on napkins, even on the wall in her room in Japan. It was gone the next day.
She wrote it again.
The club was determined, and they stole what was rightly hers. Tamaki didn't hold a grudge though, he smiled when she let him go.
A gentlemen to the very end.
You see, she'd understood. She was smart. She'd known that he wasn't hers to keep. So she thanked gods she'd had at least that much time with him, and told him she would let him go.
Then she went home alone, back to her scared family, her beautiful piano and her sad woman.
But, with letters written for many years, never able to be sent over the seas, telling of daily news and love, and they were written for Anne-Sophie.