note - I originally had the lyrics of "Love, Save the Empty," by Erin Mccarley to accompany this, but since songfics are not allowed...(sigh)
disclaimer - Vampire Knight belongs to Hino Matsuri.
(somewhere in the distance, a sweet and melancholy lullaby plays)
There were no exceptions to her rules. None at all.
When she was five years old, young and fresh in the world, she made up a list of exactly the kind of people she would and wouldn't associate with.
After all, wasn't she a princess? She got everything she wanted; she was above the other children, forever and always.
Her mommy didn't teach her how to interact with others, for the little girl would learn on her own; her mother was very beautiful, but the queen had no such time for silly things such as playing games with her child.
He had never gone beyond the gates of the village before he was six.
He was a shy, timid little thing, with messy chestnut hair and large, silver-blue eyes.
For weeks, his parents had gone on and on and on about the party, saying what an honor it was to be invited to such an important gathering. He displayed no interest on his angelic face.
While his parents were discussing the wardrobe, he worked on a Chinese puzzle box—a gift from one of his father's erratic traveler friends.
/forward/
The first time he met a girl his own age, he was at his first party. He froze, not quite sure what to do.
They just stood there, staring at each other for some time.
Then, slowly, he shyly extended his hand as he would when he met the other young boys; there was something different about this girl.
She was all dolled up in the finest clothes he had ever seen. Her dress was made of a smooth, shimmery fabric, not the rough, coarse cloth that his mother wore. Her porcelain skin looked soft and smooth, not sun-darkened and tough like the people in the village. Where had this person come from?
He waited for her to take his hand.
(her hair reminds him of a sunset—burnt orange strands brush her shoulder as she tilts her head slightly)
(he drowns in indigo)
She had been sitting in her own small throne, feeling very bored and not at all entertained by the party when she saw him.
Her first impression was of a deer. He had a slender face with huge doe-like eyes; she had once gone to the menagerie with her father before, and the way he froze when he saw her was very much like a deer that had sensed danger. He was about her age and dressed in black trousers with a blue dress shirt on. One look at his tanned, golden-brown skin, and she knew he was a villager. His hair was very messy, which was odd because this was a regal party.
They stood there awkwardly, staring at one another.
She waited. Why wasn't he bowing to her? Why wasn't he calling her "Your Highness" or "Your Majesty" or "Princess" like the other boys would? Did he not know that he was a peasant, whose only purpose was to please and to attend to her?
The boy moves and slowly extends his hand, peering at her from underneath his lashes.
What is going on? Why is he holding out his hand, as if expecting her to shake it? She is a princess, and he is a commoner, not worthy enough to greet her this way.
She looks at his hand, the skin looks smooth, but it is darkened by the sun, the way a villager's is.
Still…
It's jarring to not be greeted by stuffy lords, snotty, high-class ladies and the like, all bowing stiffly from the waist; they pamper her, trying to use her to gain favor in her parents' eyes. He's not like them.
She hesitantly lifts her hand, stopping just inches from touching his hand. She hovers there, for a few seconds, staring at the contrasting light and dark skin (they are opposites—not meant to clash together), before she raises her head and meets his eyes.
Sucking in a breath, she leaps over the chasm that separates their worlds and takes his hand in hers.
(the skin is warm—she finds herself smiling)
(not quite there but getting close)