A Harvest Moon Fanfiction

Death and the King

Author's Note: This has absolutely nothing to do with farming. If you care about farming that much or the actual story line, don't start hating on me, because all you need is love. Love is all you need.

~Prologue~

"Eliza, you are different from the rest of us." A woman whispered to a small girl standing beside the bed she was resting in. She extended her hand and cupped it.

"What do you mean, mother?" The girl questioned.

"Eliza, I do not have much time left. Soon, I will burn out of this world and you will have to fend for yourself, but I want you to remember that those who are different are not always the enemy." She brought her hand to the girl's rustic blond hair, stroking it gently with her pale, shaking hand.

"Mother, I still don't understand. Why I am I different?" The girl urged.

"Time will reveal the answer, Eliza, but now, I cannot tell you." She smiled softly and tears ran down her cheeks. The girl looked around the room at the numerous butlers and maids standing around the bed, all sharing the same expression of grief and sorrow.

"Why are you sick?"

"As I have told you so many times before, everything happens for a reason." By now, the young girl was crying.

"But I don't want this happen mother. You're all I have left, don't leave." She begged, grabbing her mother's hand. "Please." Her mother's eyes slowly closed.

"Eliza... you will amount to great things..." She whispered and took one last quivering breath.

"Mother? Wake up, mother." The girl demanded, shaking her mother roughly. Sounds of sobs and deep sighs filled the room around her, but they sounded muffled. "Mother, get up!" She screamed, tears rolling down her pink face. "Someone do something! Help her!" She begged, frantically looking around the room. She stood up. "Do something!" She screamed. Her knees began to wobble and she fell to the ground, her face cupped in her hands. "Do something... She's all I have..."

"Your Majesty..." A man with light green hair dressed in a black robe, coughed. He was on one knee, his head held down. A tall man in front of him turned around. He had long red hair that looked like a fire atop his head and eyes to match it.

"What is it, Marquee?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Sir, Elizabeth, she's dead." Marquee told him reluctantly. The man heaved a heavy sigh.

"It can't be helped. She was sick, I knew she was going to die." Marquee's turquoise eyes widened.

"You're not hurt by this?" The tall man turned around with a stern look played upon his face.

"I don't age, Marquee, you know this and I'm always forced into a marriage. I have to watch them die every single time, so there's no point in getting too attached. And besides, I've never actually been in love. Who do I have to marry next?" he asked like it was a job.

"It's Elizabeth's daughter. The one she had after the incident." Marquee answered.

"How old is she now?"

"12, sir."

"I see." The man mumbled. "Her name?"

"Eliza Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe? That wasn't Elizabeth's maiden name. Who was her father?"

"Uh, I believe it was Jonathan Redcliffe, sir." Marquee answered quietly, backing up.

"Jonathan Redcliffe?" The man boomed, whirling around. If Marquee hadn't backed up, he would've been hit. "How could she marry Jonathan Redcliffe after all he did to our land?"

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure, but I do know that he died over five years ago, so he is no longer a threat to us." Marquee reassured.

"Still," the man muttered, turning his back towards Marquee. "she said she loved me and I don't understand how she could change her preferences so quickly." Marquee smiled devilishly.

"Is that a hint of jealousy I'm hearing?"

"No. I just can't believe she would go from a king to a traitor. What's her daughter like?"

"From what I've heard, she's nothing like her father and exactly like her mother." Marquee answered.

"What does she look like?" The man asked, intrigued.

"Oh, um, is that really important? Looks don't matter in a relationship, it's all about personalities and as the Beatles say 'all you need is love,' so I don't think that's-"

"What does she look like? And who are the Beatles?" The man repeated, this time adding the question.

"I've been spending too much time with humans..." Marquee mumbled.

"Marquee!" The man yelled.

"Fine, fine. She looks exactly like Elizabeth."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir. It'll be almost as if you're marrying Elizabeth again!" Marquee exclaimed, but quickly covered his mouth.

"Hopefully not." The man said, his voice sounding muffled. "Hopefully Eliza will remember our marriage.

Chapter One.

Five years later

"Hey, Eliza! You in there?" A familiar voice called through my window, snapping me out of my sleep.

"Huh? What?" I muttered, swinging my legs over my bed and straightening out my nightgown. Before I dared peer out my window, I flattened my hair.

"Eliza! Hurry up!" The voice yelled again.

"Who the hell is it?" I asked, angrily.

"Your best friend, who else?"

"Oh, Luke." I said, looking out the window. There stood my best friend Luke, electric-blue hair and all. "What do you want?" I asked him through the window.

"Are you gonna let me in?"

"No, I have to get dressed. What do you want?"

"Want to go into Fugue Forest with me today?" he asked me. I shrugged.

"Let me get dressed. Shoo." I told him while drawing my curtains to a close. Luke had been my best friend ever since my mother died. We had met one day when I had been lost in Fugue Forest and he helped me find my way out. Ever since then, we've been inseparable. I opened the drawers on my dresser and fished through them trying to find something appropriate to wear. Before my mother died, I was living in the richest family in the town, so all my clothes were dresses, skirts or fancy tops. After my mother died, I didn't inherit anything because she left all her money to my father, Jonathan Redcliffe, who had died 7 years prior to her death, and all of his money went to his mistress, including my mother's. When I was just twelve years old, I was forced out of the house, because as I already said, everything I basically owned belong to the mistress. I found myself alone and hopeless, until Luke's family brought me in after our first encounter. They were my family. I ended up finding a pair of tighter-than-I'd-like jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Before I left, I walked over to a picture of my mother. She looked exactly like me. We had the same dark blond hair and hazel eyes. "Bye, Mother. I'll be careful today." I walked outside to find Luke laying on my lawn. "Well, come on." I said and we set off towards Fugue Forest. We walked in silence the most of the way, which we never do, but I didn't feel like talking.

"So, the anniversary of your mother's death is next week, isn't it?" My heart suddenly clenched and my throat became tight.

"Yeah." Was the only thing I could manage to say.

"Well, just remember that whenever you feel alone, you have us. We're your family."

"Thanks. I know." I replied, wanting to go home more than anything. We kept silent until we arrived at the forest. "What are we going to do?" I asked.

"I don't know. Walk in the forest?"

"Luke, not to sound mean, but that sound boring as hell." I told him, smiling.

"We could... um... What do you want to do?" he asked me. I thought about it for a while.

"Why don't you work, because I know you work today, and I'll go home." Luke blushed and jammed his fists in his pockets.

"Shoot, you figured it out."

"Luke, I know your work schedule. Now go work."

"Okay, okay, but after work, you and I are going to the bar." he told me.

"Fine. But you know I don't drink." I reminded him.

"I know, I know, but they have food there, too. We can have dinner there."

"Alright." I agreed. "Sounds good."

"See you then." Luke said while waving at me and he left. I made my way back to my house, when I stumbled upon a field of flowers. With an array of different coloured flowers that seemed to spread on for miles and miles, it looked just like something on a stain-glass window. I bent down and cupped a light blue flower in my hand. The minute I did, the flower became black and wilted. I don't know what it was, but every time I felt depressed or angry, plants I touched seemed to die. I got up and continued to my house. When I finally arrived home, I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about my mother and my father. I hadn't really known my father, he died when I was five, but by the way people talked about him in town, he seemed to have been a bad person and I was kind of glad I had no memory of him, but my mother seemed to love him a lot, so maybe he wasn't as bad as I thought. It was better just not to think of him. I dozed off, thinking about my mother and ended up dreaming about the night she died. How I had screamed for someone to help her, how our help had just stood around a watched and how she had called me different. To this day I still have no idea what she meant, but I believed her when she said time would tell. Then, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt devastation. I felt like I could have done something to save her, but I knew I couldn't and I would just have to accept the fact that the only family I had left, my best friend, my mother, was gone. Forever.