so i said it was comming later... well, i got typing early. XD
nice mix of OC and my style for Laharl, i think XDD

please review??

and i do not own Disgaea, just Atsu here later.

-Chapter One- Only the Beginning

"Why is it that all you ever have to talk about it LOVE!?" the young Demon Prince screamed. He was in the angel trainee's face, and was highly tempted to shove her over. Etna, his vassal, watched from atop a larger rock from a safer distance, as was her now seemingly daily routine, as the fourth pointless fight broke out between the two. It was the second time he stopped walking altogether just to get in Flonne's face. The other two he dealt with annoyed, but at least somewhat patiently.

But now he'd had enough.

"Flonne, if all you ever cared about was love then why'd you come here in the first place?!" he continued hotly.

Etna's turn then. She dropped down from her perch and nearly glared at him. "How many times has she told you, Laharl?" she snapped.

"I was sent to assassinate—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before—"

"THEN WHY DID YOU ASK!?" there were days when Etna was calm, slightly understanding and patient with Laharl. Today was not one of them.

The only one highly tempted to get in someone' face now was her. This was a battle she openly willing to fight. Even against her 'master'. She and Flonne had slowly gotten used to each other, slowly begun to understand each other, over the many days they had travelled. Flonne considered her a good and only friend, seeing as Etna had repeatedly insisted that Laharl was not interested in… 'Human friendship'.

Laharl was silent even for jus the slightest moment. He saw the look in Etna's eyes that said many things. What it mainly meant, was that she would not only verbally, but physically fight him. He knew that if he could read minds, hers would be streaming with things he'd rather have her keep to herself. All insults, all the time.

Though he persistently said he was better and stronger than she was, Etna was not someone he was willing or even ready to tangle with. It was as if he'd forgotten what she was fully capable of. And at times, lost in the memories of his father or mother Flonne continually kicked up within any of her infamous spiels on love, caring, emotion and all that, or simply the speech itself, he would seem to forget even who he was.

And although he always said he cared nothing for his father and said that he was a fool, Flonne always went on about how he should feel instead of his usual attitude toward the matter. It was simply one big circle about who was right and who wasn't.

Laharl, stubborn as he was, always insisted he was the 'right'. Laharl, Prince of Demons, wrong? No, he just simply couldn't have that. And so he was constantly at was with not only himself, but them as well.

Most of the Prinnies stood well out of his way. Any now who sided with Etna or Flonne, defined or refused him, were instantly thrown out; and at times, their Hell taken as well. Etna said nothing about this theft, but as usual, Flonne always did.

This was the current topic. One of the more common Prinnies had muttered an ill comment towards the Prince and of course, with his super-sonic hearing, he'd caught it almost instantly. He stole its Hell and dropped-kicked it far off, warning the other Prinnies the same would happen to them, should they dare to speak of him that way again.

"Laharl, it's wrong to steal!" Flonne picked up again. "And don't you care anything about the poor Prinnies? You make them work so hard… and for what? Just to steal their money and banish them? That's not fair—!"

"Don't talk to me about fair…!" he growled, his voice low and threatening. His anger and memories rising. He never minded the anger. No, it was the memories that bothered him.

Memories that he'd said meant nothing to him. Memories that were to be long dead; like those who they are of. Memories that now clouded his mind, and at opportunities like this, compelled to say strange things.

"my father is dead bec—" he stooped himself short before he could allow himself to continue. Why in the world, he thought, would he say such a thing? Using his father's death as an example for a time and conversation –err, argument- such as this one? "Dammit, Flonne…" he cursed indirectly, just adding a name to it to indicate he 'wasn't' doing as he really was. Hell, what, now he was talking to himself? It was at least for what he considered self punishment: he nearly let one heck of a lie as he wanted to consider it, slip from his lips. "It's your fault!" Well. Nice cover.

"That you drop-kicked one of my Prinnies half way across the planet?" Etna raged, wanting to slap some sense into him. "I don't think so! Flonne had nothing to d with it! It called you a cur under its breath and you got rid of it, stealing its Hell! That's it, Laharl! Flonne is only just trying to teach you a lesson about it now!"

The Prinnies behind her cheered, and he shot them the deadliest glare in his arsenal. Most of them quieted instantly. Others, knowing it was two girls against one guy, knew he had not a chance. He may be stubborn, but he was no idiot.

"What if I don't want to be taught a lesson…?" he muttered weakly, crossing is arms. See? Stubborn. And… maybe it wasn't exactly the greatest way to cover…

"NO! Would you shut up and listen to what she has to say for once!?" she finished loudly.

Laharl had the strangest urge to simply hide his face, feeling it flush a deep red. Weird. Never felt that…. No. Shit… he knew what was coming. Once. He'd felt this only once before, and it was when…

A sharp tone of singing ran through his mind like a wildfire.

Though they were all mainly self induced, these fights were stressful on him. He was merely tired of hearing her preach and wanted her to stop. That was all… but no matter how many times he tried to be calm or subtle about it… even outright, he couldn't seem to stop himself from sounding so cruel, never able to find the right words or tone for it. And it always ended in a fight because of it.

The breath caught in his throat, and he coughed lightly, shaking it off. "I'm tired," He lied, making no direct eye-contact; as it should have been. He must have looked as bad as he felt then. "I want to stop somewhere to sleep."

Simple.

For a moment, though, Etna and Flonne were dumbstruck about how easily he let them win. Whenever he changed the subject to suddenly like this, it meant he was done, and they'd won.

So far it was 4 and 0.

"And I want my own room. No more of this 'historical museum' crap you came up with last time, you got it, Prinnies?" he had a few reasons to say this at least.

"Well…" Etna sighed, glancing off into the glimmering distance, full of lights from a small town. "It is getting late… and I'm getting kinda hungry anyways. Sure, why not? Let's go."

Flonne, now thunderstruck to say in the least, gazed at the two – they had their backs turned to one another, but she also knew Laharl was purposely avoiding them. She had his other side figured out.

"Well, what are you waiting for?!" Etna barked, looking fiercely down at the nearest Prinny. "Go on and get us… two rooms in the nearest hotel or resting place! NOW!!"

Two. So at least she was cooperating the way he wanted her to. And at a time he needed it most.

Why in the hell should he have to share a room with two girls anyway…?