Title: Exia
By: Lily and Jane
Chapter: 1/?
Pairing: Lockon/Tieria
Fandom: Gundam 00
Notes: AU, think fantasy/historical RPG game setting thingy. Written in hope to appeal to Lily for pr0n. So here's to hoping.
Ten long years of wars, three battle fronts to the north, east and west, and if not for the ocean enveloping them to the south then perhaps a fourth was to be expected.
Granted, they have the advantage of a strategic landscape which provided an impenetrable defense to date, coupled with more advanced militaristic developments, their power was unparalleled. Maintaining three battle fronts with three differences foes however, was tiring.
With the new developments, (i.e. the Northerner, the bastard who had been half-assed in his participation in this war, had overtook a series of small city-states and tribes to the far north and consequently doubled his force in size,) it was time for a new plan.
The new plan was simple, first allied with North to converse strength, then take out East and West (preferably East first as per personal grudge), then turn back and kicked North's ass. The hook was also simple, have their princess marry North before the asshole bed either East or West (as secret intel reported, they wasn't the only one who come up with the one perfect plan.) All enemies plans were for laugh however, as their princess can beat the other two hand down, to true Southlander tradition; they were much hotter and hit way harder.
All was perfect, the plan was perfect, right up to the where the princess ran off with her royal guard days after the engagement was announced, citing an inability to betray her heart (country was fair game) and to led a life without her one true love (family also fair game). Ironically enough, her escape was also perfect. Not a soul knows of where she might be or might have headed to.
With the wedding preparation already underway and the Northerner awaiting their perfect bride, all was too late, save for announcing her death, have North marry East or West and came back to bit them in the ass. Facing impending doom, the most honorable king rolled over and died.
It was in this situation that he ascended the throne.
---------------------
It was for Veda.
It was just a job.
It was a good job.
It was a great job, and it was all for Veda.
These were the reasons he listed for himself as he stood in line among a sea of fluttering panels and pastel sleeves. He was taking the opportunity of a lifetime. Just being accepted will provided him with enough gold to last for generations. Veda will have the care that she needed, and although the job demanded him to be away from home, it wasn't like they will never sees each other again.
This particular job entail him looking after one of the nation's many temples and tending to its daily affairs; it was an effortless job with no demand for hard labor, and Veda will be able to sees him every time she came to made an offering. There was also the imposed seclusion, but as he had never been much of a socialite (and given his conditions), the seclusion will be more of a blessing than a short coming. All in all, this was a great job; it will be good for Veda and if all went well then he, Tieria Erde, was going to be a virgin priestess.
-------------------
Like any true king, upon ascended the throne, he plotted.
And his plotting was going to trump all plots. His plotting was going to cover for his sister's ass, smooth out the rocky (suicidal) foreign relations, and save the country from doom.
His plan was simple.
Officially, as his sister was soon to be married, forcing her to abandon her post as high priestess; to pacify the gods, a beautiful virgin was to be selected among the citizens to take her place. The maiden's family will be handsomely compensated and the girl tremendously blessed.
Unofficially, two beautiful virgins will be selected, one to serve as the new priestess (as officially stated), the other to be showered in riches splendor, to be pampered and admired. She will be adored and worshipped, and spend the rest of her life in prosperous comfort. She will be queen (unofficially, under his sister's name).
Really, it was that simple. And surely, out of the many beauties in his country (and trust him there're many) they wouldn't notice one missing.
He however, didn't count on this.
She was small; she was slender; she was quick; she was fiery. She was just right, perfect down to the color of her hair, down to the way she thwarted his plot with a cutting no.
Regene really didn't get girls. Really. On one hand, they dreamed of this knight in shining armor; this prince who came and swept them off their feet, but when that same prince (or king, but they have to be princes before they're kings anyway) is handed to them on a silver platter, they just goes right out and refused.
What could be the differences between a prince who came to you and a prince who was given to you? What would made girls want to get into one's pants and not the other? Because if it came down to it, North's armor is pretty damn shiny to him.
And so he is baffled.
And while she turned down each and every new offers his advisors could came up with, he waited, patiently, until the old coots seem ready to tear out their hairs and offered up the country's first-borns. It was then that he held his hand to the side lazily, palm upturned, to accept a small collection of documents from his personal attendant.
Amid the advisors' sputtering, he began to recite.
He started off with her name, her current residence, and her family, then continued on with her age, her education, her profession, the places she frequents, her likes, dislikes, her wants, her wishes, her dreams, what she had, what she don't, what she need, and all about her mother.
He ranted on, and watched as bits and pieces of her defiance might were chipped off and gave way to a slow terror and knows that he had won. He praised her on her love for her mother, on her mother's grace; the lovely lady, and how his maids found her to be oh so endearing and let the sweet daughter imagine what he really mean, what he would and could do, chances were they're plenty creative anyway.
It is to say; when all fail, black mail.
