Prince Phil was a pig.
Amelia had decided this one Spring afternoon while perusing her father's bookshelves, attempting to find an especially rare book written by a particular famous, dead sorcerer.
"Lina-san loves rare books," she muttered to herself, climbing a ladder in order to reach the higher shelves, "This would be a wonderful wedding gift for her and Gourry-san."
However, Amelia could not locate the book anywhere. It was bad enough that there was no apparent order to the shelves and shelves of manuscripts, but there were also several piles of leather-bound volumes just lying haplessly on the floor, apparently for quite a while if the layers of dust meant anything.
"Oh, Daddy!" Amelia grunted in frustration, hitting her fist against the shelf. She flinched, hearing a loud "thwack" as one of the books was dislodged and fell from one of the higher shelves. "Whoops," she giggled to herself, "Levitation!"
Amelia floated to the ground, landing softly beside the book that now lay open, words in the large block print that indicated her father's handwriting spread across the page.
"Daddy wrote a book?" she asked herself, picking it up and carrying it to a table where she could read it properly. "No..." Amelia's eyes opened comically wide, "Daddy wrote a diary!"
Amelia sat down a the large library table, absorbing the words that had survived from the early years of her father's life. The first entry contained a detailed account of a contest in strength he had witnessed, and the lasting impression it made on him. The second entry was less exciting, describing the injustice of being grounded on the night of the big ball. The interesting thing, however, was that Prince Phil had been upset not because he wanted to have fun with his friends, but because the Prince was expected to be there, and people who had been waiting for a chance to meet him would be disappointed.
"So noble!" Amelia sighed (ignoring the nagging question of why he had been grounded in the first place), her admiration for her father swelling.
She continued to read, carefully flipping through the pages. Some entries were dedicated to important events and his reactions, others described his plans once he grew up, and his fantastic ideas to improve the lives of the people of Seyruun.
Amelia yawned. She hadn't realized such a good deal of time had passed. She turned the page, intending to read one last entry before retiring for the night.
"WHAT?"
"Amelia, are you alright?" Lina and the others had immediately rushed into the room at the sound of her outburst.
"Amelia, my child, what's wrong?" Prince Phil shuffled into the room in his very frilly sleeping robe.
"Daddy!" Amelia cried, "Something terrible has happened!"
Prince Phil rushed forward at once, taking his daughter into his arms. "What is it, Amelia? You can tell me."
Amelia sniffled, "Someone has desecrated one of our tomes!"
"What?" Lina screeched, "Which one? Oh, don't tell me it was that rare magic book that I've been searching for for days! Who could find anything in this damn mess..."
"No," Amelia shook her head against her father's shoulder where it now rested, "Worse."
"Let me see," Zelgadis picked up the book lying on the table where it had been thrown in terror, "Hmmm... some of the pages are torn out." He flipped to the front of the book, trying to find a title. Once he did, however, his eyes widened and his mouth quirked.
"Well, what is it?" Lina asked, tapping her foot in impatience.
Zelgadis turned to Lina, the evil smirk growing. "It's a diary. Prince Phil's diary."
The Crown Prince almost dropped his daughter where she leaned upon him.
"My diary?" Prince Phil choked out, "I was wondering what I had done with that..."
"Daddy," Amelia sat down, her eyes downcast, "Someone tore out some of the pages. They desecrated your diary!"
Each individual in the room jumped when Prince Phil let out a booming laugh. "Oh, Amelia, my darling daughter!" He grinned, "You needn't have worried so much. I tore out those pages."
No one had expected this admission, but it was Gourry who asked, "Why'd you do that, Prince Phil?"
Prince Phil laughed again, softer this time, a fond smile curving his lips. "Those entries were dedicated to a long tale and memories that I cherish very much." He paused, allowing memories to flood his mind and the past to supersede the present. "You see, those entries began on my 16th birthday, when my parents were holding a very elaborate party for myself and a good deal of nobles. It was that night that I--" he breathed deeply through his nose, as though trying to hold some heavy emotion still within his mind, "That night, I met Amelia's mother."
Silence stretched across the room. Prince Phil's dearly departed wife was not a topic often approached, not even for Amelia. The pain that immediately shot through the prince's eyes was enough to make even the most curious question pursuing the matter further. Though she had passed shortly after Amelia's birth, the anger and hurt was still raw in his heart. He would never have enough time to heal.
Zelgadis shoved the book behind his back, as though by hiding the written words he could also shield the prince from his memories.
"How..." Amelia's voice was so soft that even she wasn't sure she had spoken, "How you met Mommy?"
Prince Phil put a comforting arm around his daughter, leading her toward the large section of furniture and gesturing for the others to follow. He sat himself and Amelia in an overstuffed sofa, waiting for everyone else to arrange themselves and allowing himself to calm his rapidly beating heart before he began.
"Prince Phil," Lina had a rare moment of familial compassion, "We don't need to be here for this, if you and Amelia need--"
"No," Phil cut her off, "You've all been so good to us, to Amelia... you should hear this tale, as well."
"I met your mother, Amelia, on the streets of Saillune, the evening of my 16th birthday and the ball that would formally announce myself as the heir to the Saillune throne..."
"Prince Philionel," the steward rushed behind him, trying to match his powerful strides, "Your celebration will begin in just a few hours! Do you not think it time to return to the castle to prepare?"
Prince Phil stopped suddenly, and his steward, in his rush to keep up, slammed straight into the Prince's formidable back.
"My apologies!" and he began to grovel.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Prince Phil laughed. He bent over to help the man pick himself up, and brushed a bit of road dust off his jacket. "I only wish to spend a bit more time out here," he added softly, "If this is to be my city one day, I hope to know it as well as my own bedchamber."
The steward bowed dutifully, and continued to follow the prince's long stride.
At just 16, Prince Philionel was a giant among men. He already stood over six feet tall, his muscles bulged with the power of a pacifist, and the scraggly mustache that would consistently cause people to mistake him for a bandit was well on its way to overshadowing his lips. He was not what most people would classify as "handsome," but he was powerful, and despite his large physique and somewhat haggard appearance, he radiated the goodwill that he so wholeheartedly believed in.
He didn't really have a purpose, a goal in mind for walking down the streets today. He just wanted his presence to be known—his future subjects to understand that he was reachable, that he was there for them. He entertained himself with thoughts of how he would help the already prosperous land to grow—to increase trade with neighboring countries, to introduce more crops to the rich countryside and to create a reasonable system to loan money to burgeoning businesses and encourage them to grow.
He was so entranced with his dreams, in fact, that he was not aware of the figure hurrying toward him until he ran straight into her.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyah!" the young beauty shrieked, and promptly smacked the prince in the head, "Thief! Bandit! RAPIST!" and as he collapsed onto the ground, she smacked him again for good measure. "Stupid bastard thief," she hissed, and stepped over his prone body.
As his steward rushed to fret over his battle wounds, whimpering and proclaiming how "had he been in reach he would have taught that wench a thing or two" Prince Phil looked up in time to catch a young sprite hurrying down a side alley, her dark tresses braided down her back and her royal blue skirt blowing in the breeze. A moment later she disappeared, and had Prince Phil not borne the bruises to prove her existence, he would have thought he had dreamed of her.
"That woman," he muttered, picking himself up off the ground.
"Yes," his steward huffed, "I will see to it that your guards search her out and give her the proper punishment for her reprehensible actions."
"No!" Prince Phil turned to the small man, "That woman was a pursuer of justice!" His fist pumped into the air, "A woman with a kind and righteous heart!"
The steward's jaw dropped. "You cannot be serious, Prince Philionel. That young woman struck you! She thought you were a bandit!"
Prince Phil laughed and flapped his hand, as though waving the thought away, "A misunderstanding! An easy enough mistake... happens all the time!" and he continued to stride down the street, musings of the prospering Saillune replaced by thoughts of a beautiful, violent woman.
This was written for the livejournal community slayers_request for beccastareyes. I was supposed to have written a loooooong time ago, but didn't post it because I hadn't finished it yet and I fail at updates. I still haven't finished it... but got impatient and decided to post it, anyway.
Lord only knows when I'll update this. Sorry. :/
P.S. Age discrepancy fixed!