I heard this song, and thought of this on a whim. I do not own DragonLance, its fine and not so fine characters, nor do I own the song.
The song is "Right Kind of Wrong" By LeAnn Rhimes. Or however you spell her last name. Right, enjoy. Reviewing is also appreciated. I can, and might, write more if you so desire, but ya gotta tell me.
Know all about, about your reputation
And how it's bound to be a heart break situation.
He never noticed. She was kind of glad for that. He didn't need to know. This was her secret, her crush. She thought he was the best looking boy in Solace, damn what the other people in town thought.
But I can't help it if I'm helpless every time I'm where you are…
You walk in and my strength walks out the door.
She knew, or was fairly certain, that he didn't know she even existed, or if he did, he didn't remember her. Not many did. It wasn't her fault she'd been born with a weak heart and her family kept her locked up in her room all the time. She knew he was weak, like she was, but at least he could go outside. She was glad for that. The way the light shone on his auburn hair dazzled her every time.
Say my name and I can't fight it anymore.
Oh, I know I should go, but I need your touch just too damn much.
She remembered the first time she saw him. She gotten horribly sick, one of the maids had passed it on to her. She was delirious with a fever that was starting to get dangerously high. She had been fifteen at the time. The family doctor was away, so her parent's had had to send for the help of Mistress Meggin. And who should come with, but the one person in town who bothered to spend time with her?
Lovin' you, yeah, isn't really something I should do.
Shouldn't want to spend my time with you, yeah.
She didn't remember much of that encounter. Some sort of medicine being fed to her, gentle hands lifting her head up so she wouldn't choke on it. When she was finally coherent enough to make out her surroundings, she looked over to find the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen, staring intently at her. She felt as if those eyes could see every misfortune that had ever befallen her.
Well, I should try to be strong, but baby, you're the right kind of wrong.
Yeah, baby you're the right kind of wrong.
"How do you feel?" His voice was soft, but a bit raspy. Nothing much, but it still belied the signs of his own poor health. She managed to mutter out a positive reply, and he nodded, before pressing the back of his hand against her forehead. "You still have a fever, but you're out of danger, for now. Go back to sleep, you'll need it." With that, he turned and left the room. Ever since then, she had never forgotten how warm his hand had felt, how his eyes had dug into her soul. She sighed softly, hazel eyes softening with the sweet memory.
Might be a mistake, a mistake I'm makin'.
But what you're givin' I am happy to be takin'.
Every day, she sat by her window, watching and waiting. Twice a day, he would walk past her window on the walkway opposite of it. She lived for the moments when he would walk by, lost in thought or looking at some plant he had found. She knew he was training to become a mage, and she had no doubt that he would. Ever since she was little, she'd been able to feel things. There was nothing magical about it, merely her body trying to make up for its weakness. She knew when people were coming, could sometimes feel the presence of the recent dead. And she could feel his power. He would be powerful, no doubt about it.
'Cus no one's ever made me feel the way that I feel when I'm in your arms.
Sighing again, she pushed an errant strand of dark blond hair behind her ear. In the winter it was just a light shade of brown, but in the warmer months the sun made it shine like old, melted gold. One day he would leave. Go and take his test at the Tower of High Sorcery. He might never return to Solace again. Would she be able to handle that? She knew she would have to. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar white robe. Turning her head, she felt her face flush with joy.
They say you're something I should do without.
They don't know what goes on when the lights go out.
He was staring intently at the walkway boards, not paying any attention. He looked so handsome when he did that. Her happiness soon turned to anger. Someone else was on the walkway. Miranda. She glared at the offending girl. She had a smirk on her face, a gleam in her eye that betrayed her intentions. Anger soon turned to dismay. Even Raistlin, (she blushed as she even thought his name) had fallen under that witch's spell. Almost every man in Solace had fallen head over heels for her honey blond hair and latest fashions. She was going to hurt him. That bitch was going to lead him on, she felt it. Even as she did, she wanted to stop it.
There's no need to explain.
All the pleasure is worth all the pain.
She watched the exchange between the two, saw how Raistlin stumbled over his usually glib tongue. They were soon out of sight, going after the fallen cloth. Tears welled in her eyes, and she lowered her head onto her arms, letting the breeze play through her hair. Don't let him be hurt, she pleaded. She didn't want to see him suffer anymore, not after his parents' death. Not after the Widow Judith. She cried, her tears not of her own pain, but of fear for the white apprentice who had a death grip on her heart.
I should try to run,
But I just can't seem to.
It was late that night when she saw him. She'd pretended to fall asleep to please her ever worrisome parents. But now she sat up in her bed, leaning on the window sill, the light of Lunitari shining on down on the earth. She knew why he was going, saw it in his steps. Oh no, her mind whispered. She'd seen Miranda slip off with someone else, a someone else that no one could mistake for anyone but Caramon Majere. She sat up straight. Her worst fears realized, she came to a decision. She would go to him. The wounds to his heart would be deep, and he may not even want her there. But still, she had to. She had to go and tell him that he wasn't alone. Tell him everything, all her hopes and fears, her reasons why she'd never spoken up before. But most of all, to be there for him. So he wouldn't have to cry alone, like she knew he probably had. Like her.
'Cus every time I run,
You're the one I run to.
By the time she'd slipped out of the house, making sure to alert no one, not much of a feat, considering her incredibly slight, slim build, she could see him below, near the clothier's shed. She started walking as fast as she dared and saw him move away swiftly, in pain. He stormed up the steps and off in the complete opposite direction of the couple in the shed. She tried to catch up, but his rage fueled his strength. She managed to keep up for awhile, but lost him somewhere in the darker part of town.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She had failed him. The one person she had ever wanted to help, who hadn't seen her as merely a pretty, useless decoration, had vanished. She leaned her back against the tree trunk, slowly sliding down the rough surface, until she sat with her knees tucked up against her chest, arms wrapped around them, face buried in shame.
Can't do without,
What you do to me.
She didn't know how long she sat there, alone, tears falling, staining the long sleeves of her hastily put on dress. She didn't feel the warm spring breeze wrapping around her, and didn't notice the approach of a very drunk man. She only noticed when one of her arms was grabbed and she was abruptly yanked up right. The blast of stench hit her like a two ton block of granite and she nearly passed out.
"Well, ain'tcha a purty little thing. What're yew doin' al'lone? Need a bit o' comp'ny?" He leered at her, intentions perfectly clear. Now she was scared. She didn't want to do ANYTHING with this man, much less what he was suggesting. The drunk pinned her to the very tree she'd been leaning against, and started pawing at the buttons keeping it shut. She shut her eyes, not wanting to see to horrid grin and ugly gleam in her attacker's eyes. Messy kisses were trailed down the skin of her neck, and revulsion shook her whole being. She pulled in a breath of air, ready to scream, when a flash of metal shone in the blood red light. "Now, now. Don' go ruinin' our little pardy. Scream, an' I'll hafta slit yer loverly little throat." The knife nicked her throat, a single bead of blood slipping down, sliding between the valley of her breasts. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back, not wanting the hideous excuse for a human being to see them. She had her pride.
I don't care if I'm in too deep, yeah…
Soft footsteps padded down the wooden walkway. Her eyes opened wide and her heart filled with hope. Turning to her right, she saw one of the most welcome sights ever.
"Raistlin…" she breathed, hardly daring to hope it was true. Once more, his eyes locked with hers, and the fresh pain he'd just experienced showed, though he tried to hide it. The man that had, so far, been molesting her, turned toward the intruder.
"Wha'd you want, twiggy? Me an' this lady here is havin' a right fine time, sho you c'n jus' bugger off'n fergit you saw anythin'." Ice blue eyes narrowed at the inebriated cutthroat. Glaring in annoyance, he pulled out some rose petals. Crushing them to dust, he threw them at the drunk, speaking the words of magic.
"Ast tasarak sinuralan kyrnawi." The man was out like a candle light. She stepped over the snoring man, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself. Now that she was safe, the fear set in. Trembling like a leaf, the tears she'd been holding back resurfaced. She scrubbed at her eyes, not wanting her savior to see her tears. She fumbled with the buttons on her dress, remember her modesty, in lieu of remembering the recent event.
Lovin' you, yeah, isn't really somethin' I should do.
Shouldn't want to spend my time with you.
Realizing that she must appear very rude, she finished buttoning the dress, and turned to face the love of her life. She turned a bit quickly and didn't notice his proximity until she bumped right into him. She looked up into his passive face, utterly mortified.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you. I-thank you, thank you for helping me." She blushed furiously as his eyes continued to bore into her own.
"What were you doing out here? I though your parents never let you out of your room, much less the house." He asked her silently, though his voice seemed to vibrate down into her very bones. How had he known? Had he remembered her?
"I-uh, well, to be honest, I…" She steeled herself for the task ahead. Looking up at him, he was a bit taller than her, she looked him straight in the eye. No tricks, no lies, she wanted him to see she meant everything she was about to say. "I came because I didn't want you to be alone." There. It was out. Her deepest secret was out in the open. His eyes widened. She knew what he must be thinking. He must be thinking of how this was probably just another plan to hurt him. She took a small step back to give him some room. She needed to continue, needed to get it out. This was her only chance. Her window of opportunity was here, and she needed to use it.
Well, I should try to be strong, but baby, you're the right kind of wrong.
Yeah, baby, you're the right kind of wrong.
"Ever since you helped get rid of my fever four years ago, you've been the only thing I've looked forward to seeing. You walk across the bridge opposite my house everyday. Those are the times I look forward to most. You know I'm always stuck in that room, no one knowing I'm there, no one to talk to. No one there to comfort me when the crushing loneliness set in. My family sees me as, as, as nothing more than a blemish. They say I'm pretty, but they shun me as surely as if I had the plague. Only you never looked at me with pity. You understand what it's like. My parent's probably told you of my condition, why I got so sick from a simply cold. I am weak, I always will be. You knew that. I could see it in your eyes. And that's why you brought me such happiness. There was someone who didn't see me as an invalid, or a nice decoration. And to be totally honest," she turned bright red but kept looking him straight in the eye "I actually think you're…very handsome." She blurted out the last bit in a rush.
After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again, still not done baring her soul. "I know that people think you're weak, but you're not. I can feel the power. It's wound tightly into your presence. I know I'm weak, that I won't amount to much, but…but just once, I want to help the person I care for the most." She felt the tears coming again, but she fiddled with her sleeves, trying to keep them at bay just a little longer. "I know you won't believe, I know you don't now. I am pretty certain that you may never believe any of the things I'm telling you. I never expected you to. I just wanted to make sure that I could tell you. I don't know how much longer I'm going to live. My heart may give out in a few minute, a few hours, a few days, weeks, months, maybe years if I'm incredibly lucky." She stopped, collecting herself from her love crazed ranting. Trying to get her rapid breathing and thundering heart under control, she finally calmed down.
He hadn't said anything yet. He hadn't moved closer or farther away, which she took as a positive sign. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, silent under the setting red moon. Only one last thing to say, one last thing, and it will all be over, for better or for worse. She reached out a hand, and grasped one of his. He started to pull back, tugging his hand out of her reach, but her other hand folded around it. She held one of the hands she'd so often seen, slim, delicate, tapering hands. Lacing her fingers over the top of the trapped limb, she held it close to her heart. Gazing up at the blue eyes that had held her heart captive behind their icy aloofness for so long, she admitted her hearts greatest secret, and its greatest pain.
Right kind of wrong…
"I…I love you, Raistlin Majere."
Right kind of wrong…
His eyes said nothing, gave nothing away. She felt the sorrow she knew would come enter into her soul. She gently squeezed his hand, then gently let it go. She spoke no more, she didn't need to. Her eyes told him everything, revealed all the truths hidden in her rushed words. One hand slid out, unconsciously wanting to touch the long hair, the fingers knowing how soft it must be, before pulling back, never reaching their goal. She bowed to the ever more powerful aspiring mage, then slowly turned away, walking towards her home in the not quite light before dawn.
Right kind of wrong…
She slipped into her house, everyone still unaware, to her surprise. She undid the dress and hung it back on its hanger. Then, tugging on her night gown, she sat on her bed, before tucking herself under the covers, and letting the tears fall. The sun rose and shone onto her, turning her hair to the color of blood drenched gold…
Yeah, baby, you're the right kind of wrong.
Well, hope you liked it. Please review. It doesn't take that much time out of your busy lives. Thank you very much.