Author's note: Hello everyone! So, before we start I just wanted to say that this is pretty much a remake of one of my old fanfictions I had started writing about 4 years ago. I've wanted to continue it but my style had changed so much that I had to redue the chapters. (the old version is still up but I plan to delete it after I'm up to chapter 4) Trust me there's a HUGE difference. I'm basically using the old one as an outline for this one. Anyways I hope you enjoy, and please leave me reviews and criticism. If you see my HXH fanfic the only reason it's gotten this far is because of my wonder followers. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Beginning
The world was not a kind place.
My father, a man of medicine, had done his fair travels around the world in pursuit for knowledge and claimed that there was a time where the world was not as bad as I found myself believing. There was a place, he often spoke of, that had people with the kindest souls and the warmest smiles. A place far greater than the people of the church or the dreary streets of London. The land was fruitful once, in ancient times and offered it's people a Garden of Eden.
Its remains had the spirit of it.
Day in and day out as my grandfather, an architect, obsessed with the ruins of Petra my father was charmed by the city life and the everyday people who greeted him as he passed by the dusty stores. It was nothing like back home. The sun was strong above their heads, the colors vibrant with life. It felt as if God was welcoming him home with a hug.
The people loved him. They laughed and cheered him on when he struggled to communicate in their language. He studied day in and day out to make it easier for the patients he saw in the hospital he helped open up. They bought him food, sweets drenched in sugary syrup, nuts, and many more. They invited him into their homes, offered up friendship, brotherhood, and friendship.
Yes, it was when the world was a kind place.
Somewhere in his boyish adventures there he stumbled across a woman, a woman that might as well been the one who removed the blindfold from his eyes. The world was not kind afterward for they fell madly in love and they eloped on the night before he left to London.
Shortly after, they gave birth to me.
Me.
Mother was a delicate thing. Back where she was raised she was called the flower princess because she never was seen past the brick walls of their manor. The children of the street were invited to play with her amongst the colorful flowers she tended too everyday. Her tinker like laughter rang through out every corner as she helped the younger kids make flower crowns and tell them stories of fairies and mystic creatures from books she read.
Everyone loved mother. Especially father.
He visited her three times a week as a doctor. He knew well why she wasn't allowed to leave her white brick cage and with each day that edged closer to his departure, his days were within that beautifully inclosed home increased. When he could no longer bare the idea of leaving to Britain without her, of warming her cold hands with his, or looking into her sun-kissed eyes, he proposed.
With both knowing that her parents wouldn't allow it, they left without a word to her family.
She died when I was four.
And father never smiled the same way. When I was twelve, we discovered I had the same fragile heart my mother did and that, that was the day I saw my father lose his mind.
Sweet Maria who was the exact copy of her mother was destined to die.
It was a strangely sunny day the first time we approached the church upon the hill. I was four at the time, confused to why mother wasn't with us. We left quickly after the funeral, my father fearing a darker power looming over his shoulders.
"I wanna go home," I wept like any other little girl would when she missed her mother, "I don't wanna stay here." my father's strong arms had scooped me up and I could still feel how tight he hugged me.
"It's going to be alright Maria."
"Why didn't mama come with us?" the memory still brought me heart ache now that I understood what it meant when he said she was off visiting a friend.
"She'll be watching over us from now on, so be a good girl for me," Father had his his face in my hair and wept for the woman he had lost.
Years passed since then. I was no longer a child, no longer a little girl. I was seventeen, a fine age of youth, ready to explore the world, fall in love and discover the meaning of having a woman's body. It was supposed to be the start of a life for most.
But-
It wasn't so simple. As I grew older I began to understand the reality of the not so kind world we lived in. The Black Order, the name of this so called church, was an organization set up by by the government to help fight a secret war. Life as the people of the world knew it was coming to an end if nothing was done to stop the Millennium Earl.
My friends here were the warriors. They called themselves apostles of god. I watched them for the longest time. I watched as their backs faded into the darkness every time they left. I would wait. Always wait. Sometimes they would never return but It was the only thing I was good at doing. I wasn't allowed to leave. It was too dangerous for someone so fragile like myself. Father didn't have time to baby sit me anymore unless it had me on a table. Days were lonely. I waited for my friends to return to remind me that this cage wasn't so bad.
I filled my time in the Science Division where there was another girl my age. The people there were friendly. They never missed a chance to show off their weird gadgets to us. Without noticing it the church had become my family.
While I had been a troublesome child growing up I had became obsessed with books. It started when Lenalee was compatible with the innocence. That cube like substance that turns you into an apostle to fight for humanity. She became a warrior. I remained the fragile girl who listened to scientist talk numbers and physics to me. My depression led me deep within the dungeon like basement where I discovered a massive library filled with every novel, encyclopedia, drama, and biographies that I could imagine.
My friends soon became William Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe, and more. After that I was never seen without a book in my hands. Finally I had stories to share with others. While Johnny and complained about Lenalee's brother I would bounce to share what I read, excited to show people my new profound knowledge.
The Greek classics quickly became my favorite. I read one after another until I could find no more new heroic stories of the brave Greek demigods. I remember crying in my pillow, what would I do with my life?
Again I fell into another depression, one that no one could truly help me with. My condition worsened for a while and everyone thought I was going to die. I was almost happy. After all those years, seeing those tears down my friend's faces, I almost felt….like I might have left a mark.
It was unfair. To die without leaving something behind.
Mother left me to father.
A curse that would drive him to the ends of the world to cure me.
When I recovered I fell quiet. Fear overcame laughter. It overcame joy. It replaced the excitement I felt when I saw my friends. Every night I fell asleep I wondered if I'd make it to see the next morning. Was my goodnight to Lenalee my final words to her? Was my father who I saw behind stacks of papers the final image I had of him?
Was what I did with my life worth it?
Father learned far too late that the world wasn't kind.
I on the other hand, knew very well that the world was planning on torturing me.
