《WARNING: Please take note that femmeslash MAY occur. It MIGHT NOT. I do not guarantee that it WON'T. If you are one who is not comfortable with reading femmeslash chapters, I will post a warning in front of each chapter that contains femmeslash, although in skipping it you may miss out on huge chunks of the story. Rating fluctuates between T and M.》

Cloven Dream
One – The Girl Who Has Never Known Love

I am the daughter of a lord.

At my whim, anyone I don't like can and shall be executed.

At my whim, I can receive jewelry, mountains of gold, emeralds, whatever I want.

I have everything.

I want everything.

And everything shall be given to me.

l~u~k~a

The January of the new century, 1500, was bitterly cold. Wind screeched and yowled and pounded against any structure standing and blew cold shafts into the rooms in which people huddled for warmth. The huge estate Luki Megurine lived in was veiled in a shroud of powdery white, sheathed in darkness, the only light being the candles made of fat and dung. In one of the rooms of this house, a few maids and midwife whispered to and soothed a maiden who was crying out in pain. A pink-haired man looked on emotionlessly at the doorway, smoothing his robes of fine, soft silk. Then he was gone, as if he were only a wishful mirage, and the maiden was alone with her heavy belly and her servants.

"Do not desert me!" she had cried after him, in her first night of pregnancy.

"It is your child, your choice to become pregnant," was his answer. "Your choice to allow that man to seduce you and make a child with you, your choice not to fight back. As your punishment I shall not help you with our baby. You shall take care of it yourself, and if you happen to not survive the birthing, so be it."

The three last words of his sentence hung in the air like bloodied jewels.

Since then, they had not spoken. The sullen man did not so much exchange a word with his betrothed, and she him. The maiden recalled this sadly.

Then the silence was broken by another shriek-wail. She screamed, clutching at the bed covers, beseeching her maids not to get near. The wind howled harmoniously, tauntingly. It was a wild song that everybody despised. Shaking, the maiden took a gulp of water, still drenched in sweat. The coldness of the day began to take hold of her again. She shivered, and was quickly steadied by the midwife.

"My lady, it is best not to struggle when in pregnancy."

The maiden's eyes were dry; she could not cry any more. Hiccups rattled her chest. "The baby…," she gasped. "The baby…"

"It is almost ready to be delivered."

What happened next was a terrifying tantrum. The maiden screamed more and threw her bedsheets off of her body. Tears awakened themselves once again, and they streaked down her cheeks. Lightning flashed outside, thunder rumbled. The maids rushed to put everything in order. Snow fell in flurries and drenched the world. A maid hurried to get olive oil. The maiden grabbed the midwife's hand in her own clammy ones.

"Thank you," the maiden said.

The baby came rushing out, drenched in blood.

She had pale, soft skin without so much a blemish on it. Silky pink locks curled in slight, short wisps around her head. Her eyes were closed, shut tight, but slowly as her muscles loosened, the midwife detected a hint of aquamarine blue in the deep teal eyes.

She was beautiful.

And she was I.

l~u~k~a

I have heard many retellings of this story. One of them claimed that Mother was the goddess of the moon, Father the god of the sun, I the star that twinkled most brightly in the night, even during the horrible whiteouts. Another insisted that Mother was immortal and gave birth to a child half goddess, half human. A third stated Father had abandoned his wife, but immediately went back to her again in her moment of need. However the storytellers choose to illustrate the tale, they are not more truthful than this one. I know because I heard from the midwife's lips myself.

The midwife has two major reputations in our palace. One is that she never tells a lie, so all she says is true. The other is that she is a magnificent tale-spinner. I ordered her one night to relay the story of my birth with no lies, to speak it point-blank, just to ensure that she could not do it—just so she could not lie. Nobody dares to disobey the daughter of a lord, much less the lord himself. In any case, she spoke it, and word by word I remembered.

Hearing it told, I was drawn in. The magnificence and the glory of hearing it myself. If my father finds out about this, he will surely have the midwife executed. She was trembling even though she sat beside the fireplace, her words tripped and stumbled over each other, and she was in a state of total wreck. But what do I care? Her demise, if Father was to ban her, means nothing to me.

Constantly servants peer at me in curiosity, as if they are trying to find something deep, deep down that I might have, any hint of kindliness in my eyes.

I am the daughter of a lord. I am harsh and cold. I am not kind.

I love not.

I know not.

And I will not open my heart to succumb to such weakness.

What a pathetic want, to fall in love.

If you've read any one of my stories, you know that sometimes the designated character(s) come a few chapters after the first character comes in. In this case, Miku will not enter the story until the third or fourth chapter, and that is when the story will begin to turn out more like a fantasy. Apologies.

Thank you for reading and reviewing as always C:

~Unyielding Wish