Note: I do not own Vampire Princess Miyu, I only own my ability to write and my creativity.
(This is my first fanfic, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated)
The Proud and Prejudiced
The pale, ghostly, moon was already meandering across the velvet night sky with wisps of gray clouds slowly dancing to and fro, when I looked out the window of this room, this place one would call a home. My master, Princess Miyu was asleep on my lap, warmly curled within the many layers and folds of my robe. She looked so frail and tiny as she slept. Neither haunted by nightmares of the past nor sweetly dreaming of things that never will be, but rather drifting the serene void of emptiness- a close imitation of death.
We both were completely and utterly exhausted, drained of any energy or emotion that may have been swirling in our minds, that did not matter though. Regardless of us, the important objective- our mission, was complete, for tonight at least, that was what truly mattered. Another stray shinma, was sent back to the darkness from whence it came from… but only after a struggle between that creature, the princess, and this slave. 'Twas a battle of wit, cunning, will, strength, skill and pride.
Pride…
I can dimly remember it, I was once proud too. Once the supreme, the superior amongst the noble, male and female alike fawned over my reputation, dreamt of my power and adored my body. Alas 'twas only a brief shining moment when I could command such power, control, and respect. Much like how humans believe they control their life and destiny, but in reality it is their destiny to die and disappear. I believed that I was strong, if not the strongest. I have never been more wrong in my life. Ironically, it was my ambition, my pride the very elements that drove me to attain my success, that caused my downfall, the untimely demise of that life. Now, now I am lowly, the bottom rung of the social ladder. A caste system, such that it is, and I am chained to its deepest pits. Decimated are my freedom, power of choice, liberty and other natural rights that should belong to me.
It sickens me, bile curls up my throat, as I realize that they are gone! The truest form of my self and soul are lost as the light of faraway stars are in the day soaked in sunlight. I am trapped here in my own mind and body with not a way out. They are gone. What pride do I have left? Had I looked upon the deepest levels of Hell, I know would see that even those wretches had some semblance, some scrap or shred of self-dignity and sense of self. Yet I, the once most powerful shinma, have none at all.
Nowadays, my people only see me a failure, once a Lord over the Western Shinma, an admirable warrior, and perfectly prejudiced against the Easterners. Now nothing better than a fool, a court jester, bound to the whims and tasks of their masters to dance and sing solely when commanded. My mask is proof of that, its ridiculously pale painted face, its slits for eyes and odd facial markings. Proof, I am merely a clown, a lethal one at that, but nonetheless a clown that humbly follows Princess Miyu around. My shinma counterparts now jeer at me, spit upon my name, and scorn me, and at my servitude. They believe that I by serving Princess Miyu, that Ibetray my once comrades, my race, and myself. But they do not understand. Nay, they are far too deeply immersed in their prejudice against the Eastern shinma, simmering in their groundless hatred and contempt for them. Never realizing the full extent of the power these shinma have. Never realizing the futility of such a war against one another, East and West, did geography truly matter when it came to the fact that we were all shinma?
Indeed I admit I was as blind as they were once, but no longer, I have been on the receiving end to their awesome, terrible might, and I understand it clearly now, pity they never will… This mask, my silence they are mere extensions of my prison, they are not binding, they are not mandatory, they are useless, only pointers to the outside world of my status. Rather my true ball and chain are not visible, nor corporeal, and there will never be a physical representation of it. For it is in my blood, in every blood cell, vein, vessel, and capillary, coursing through my entire body in every beat my heart makes, with each contraction it takes, my loyalty to protect my delicate princess grows more steadfast and stronger. Forcing her to become my most singular thought, my one desire and soul. Oh how cruel a contract that binds me.
Or so one would think, but it ought to be understood now, that I have no pride, and thus no prejudice either. It is that which makes this life all the more bearable, this life where I live for another and not myself. It is not so horrid after all, after pondering this. For my Lord, my Lady, Princess and my Purpose of Life, she too is bound to a steel cold decree of servitude. A mere child forced into a life of a compassionless huntress of the night. I believe that through this we two have come to a mutual understanding and respect. Who needs the respect of others when your master and ward praises you with her honeyed eyes and light touch?
But now, strangely enough, as a slave of a slave, I serving under this princess find myself living more that I had ever been before. Maybe this life I now live is not so different from when I was the Lord of myself, a slave of etiquette, culture, and idealisms. Maybe all creatures regardless of position are all servants to what we call life.
But I must stop this train of thought, as it cannot compare to the tasks ahead of me. The sun is beginning to rise, a new day is beginning, I must now attend to my Lady and help her prepare for her classes today. And so dear friend, adieu.