Hers

Happier Times

The First of a Series

To Robin and Connie, because I know you're the biggest fans of this work. You've been waiting for it, and you deserve it (and before you click that review button or reply to my e-mail, I can't publish it, not even in doushinji format. This is the States, not Japan, and companies here don't see fan work like Japanese ones do. (and yes, Robin, Zexy is sexy. S'pecially in a miniskirt and fishnets -shot repeatedly-.)) Thanks for being great pals as well. Remember: the Snowman is still on my bookshelf. Truth or dare?

Ummm... Why do people put disclaimers? We all know that I don't own this crap. But, of course, if I did own it (and these are a common occurrence as well, normally leading towards "ZOMG (-insert mainstream yaoi pairing here-) would be ttly canon!" but that's another story) there would be fewer cut scenes involving friendship speeches, I'd give Axel a smaller part (or a different death scene--dogs should die like dogs), and final bosses would be harder (seriously Marluxia, wtf?). Oh, and Kairi wouldn't have the ugly hair in KH2.

Author does not hold responsibility for cranial bleeding. Seriously. Don't sue me if your brain starts to bleed.

Once upon a time...

Sunny days and green grass surrounded my natal home. The manor in which I lived (they called it a villa, saying it was a foreign word that sounded almost professional) was decorated in honey yellows and grass-toned green. Almost everywhere within the huge house, a tapestry hung from the ceiling. I would walk down the halls and gaze at the grand tapestries supposedly made by women in my family. I remember touching one my mother said she made and asking, "Will I make one of these one day?"

My mother's reply was a swift scoff, "Relena, only if I cannot find a husband to dump you with and consequently you either become defective or you marry one of your brothers. Either way, there's not a chance you'll be touching a needle."

How clearly I remember my mother. She was a Calanche by marriage, as was my father's mother, and my grandfather's mother. The latest Calanche woman to marry out and take control of the house was my grandfather's mother, who (as my grandfather will tell me) was the only sane pup of the litter. According to witnesses, she was a firm ruler and used her husband solely when she needed him. Her name was Relena, the same name I carry. My grandfather suggested it, and my mother (who loves all three of us children but has a general maternal cruelty) agreed without any second thoughts.

Then there was my father. He was almost ten years older than my mother, though he looked younger by far. I have been told repeatedly that I am his spitting image, except for my face which is supposedly my grandmother's (who died before I could meet her). He had my dark hair and green eyes, though he kept his far messier. He practically lived in his study and came out only when called to meals or sending off trolling parties. Sometimes he didn't even come for meals and had the maids come up and bring him food and empty his chamber pot. He seemed like a kind man, but was always buried in a book and thus I never got to know him as well as my mother did.

My two brothers were Candace and Greylan. Candace is older than Greylan by five years, and Greylan is a little over a year older than me. All three of us were close until Candace was ten and decided that we weren't good enough to play with him. He had already received his own room and was learning to do boy things. Greylan and I were still in the nursery. I didn't talk to Candace much after that. Greylan also began to push away from me when Candace left us. He didn't want to be a baby in his older brother's eyes. If it wasn't for my grandfather, I would have been terribly lonesome.

Grandfather was a happy man with big arms and a comfortable lap. He always would tell me a story and constantly called me "Little Missy" or "Rellie". He was the only person I ever allowed to do so. My most prominent memory of him was his death. I was six years old. Everyone was crying, even my father. I couldn't understand what was going on. Why were we following this procession? Where was Grandfather? What does dead mean?

That night, I lay in the nursery and gathered the urge to turn to Greylan and ask, "When's Grandpa coming back?"

Greylan's reply (it came after some time because he was crying in his pillow): "Relena, you're stupid. This isn't some dumb fairy tale. Grandpa's dead; he ain't coming back."

"Ever?"

"Never."

After that, Mother began to train me to be a proper lady. Father had worked something out with the King. I was promised to the Prince, and must be properly trained to assume my future role of Queen. From then on, I had entered what I call "ladyship".

--

They called her spoiled, that creature who lived in her rooms and the library and her mother's chambers. She rarely left the manse, rarely spoke to those outside her circle, and rarely stopped demanding more than she had. They said she loved none but herself, and maybe her maid. And, yes, they said she was beautiful. They also pitied her future husband. Living with her would be more of a chore than a joy.

Relena was sweet as a child, they said. And then her mother changed her, they said. They say she became a reclusive woman with a cold heart.

All in all, the boy found her fascinating, partially because she was oh-so-much like him. But they'd never have to know that he too was selfish and demanding. They, after all, were only voices that existed in the gossip of women and girls living in Calanche Villa.

He could break her. It would just take time. Time, patience, and a good amount of gin.

--

"Relena!" yelled my maiden-in-waiting, Elsee. She was dashing through the corridors that housed me, a few of my servants, and my mother. Her pale blue-and-white skirts were hiked up to her knees and her plain-heeled shoes made a loud CLACK-CLACK against the floor. "Ohhh, shit, Lady Relena! Forgive me!"

I poked my head out of the door, still in my night clothes. Elsee stopped and placed her hands on her knees. She panted heavily, glancing up at me every now and then. "Elsee?" I asked, stepping out of the door and leading her inside. "What's the rush for?"

Elsee, in her normal manner, pushed me into the chair in front of the mirror and began her work as she caught her breath. She brushed my hair and pulled it into a neat bun. "You see," she said, her breathing more regular, "the Prince arrives today, Relena--oh, I mean Lady Relena." Elsee was twice my age and watched after me in the nursery. She had been my maiden-in-waiting for almost five years and still didn't have the hang of calling me Lady Relena. I didn't care, but rules are rules.

"Oh, him." Lumaria Varluse, the Crown Prince of Galacia. Joy. I began resenting him when I was ten. He was a stuffy prince, a boy. Six years later, my opinions hardly changed. He was the obstacle between me and the cute hunter, Jaden that often rode into the trolling parties. "I'm meeting him, then? Great..."

"You don't sound too thrilled, milady," Elsee said, burrowing through my closet to find the dress that she made special for this occasion. She pulled it out with a satisfied, "Ahhh, this one." She walked over and pulled my nightclothes off and began to aid with the dressing. All in all, I figured the dress showed too much of my collarbone to a complete stranger.

"You try being engaged to a stranger," I snapped as she pulled the laces of the dress tight. I glanced in the looking glass that hung on the wall. I scowled; the outfit did not suit me at all. "I don't see why this is so important," I muttered.

"The King is in debt to your father," said Elsee, pushing a circlet onto my brow. "He says he'll marry his son to you for no cost, no competition, et cetera." She stroked my dark hair lovingly. A note of longing sparked in her warm brown eyes; she never had children of her own. "Aren't you pretty, darling?" Elsee kissed my cheek and grasped my hand. "You look smashing. What are you worried about? Any normal boy would be smitten with you."

I rolled my eyes and glared at her. "Yeah, but he's not just anyone," I sighed. "And what if we don't like each other?" I winced at that comment, catching my own mistake. "Well, we may well not... But... I... I don't know. I just... I can't stand the thought of going off with a total stranger. He might be ugly and selfish, for all I know."

--

Oh, what pretty eyes. What a pretty girl. All eyes were upon Lady Relena as her fat maid led her down the swooping staircase. A thousand eyes stared at her voluptuous frame; certain eyes had filthier intents than others. Oh, what grace. No, not grace. Relena's step originated in pride, a certain sense of cruelty and elitism that made her feel above the peasants, slaves, and other nobles in this room. Whether she liked her fiancée or not, she would one day be queen. She wouldn't be stuck with this pitiful ladyship forever. Oh, no. Relena would surpass them all, and her ambition showed in her cold green eyes.

On the other side of the room, a young man with a dirty face and patched clothing sighed and muttered to the man standing next to him. "That is your lady?"

The slave nodded. "She is a gorgeous one," he said, "but some say she got no heart. Maybe a goddess got jealous or summun'. She's as cold as ice, that one, and talk only to her maid in a kind tone. E'en her mother can't get summun' outta her without receivin' a mean tone."

The young one mouthed the word "Ah" and pushed his way into the crowd, meeting the condescending glares of the nobles and knights with a flick of his lipid blue eyes and an enigmatic smirk. How a lowly peasant achieved such a perfectly sculpted face and masterful confidence, the aristocracy would ponder for the rest of the night.

--

I took my place at the table aside my father. Elsee stood behind me, prepared to take any orders given. After a few moments of scouring the party, my father groaned. "He's not here," he grumbled. I gave him an inquiring glance. Father furrowed his brow and explained, "He was supposed to present himself to me. I've never actually met hi--"

At that point, the dirtiest fellow approached our grand table and bowed low. Father acknowledged him with a wave of his hand. The boy stood, smiling politely. "G'deven milord," he said. His voice surprised me; with a velvet tone and a deep pitch, I almost refused to believe he sounded that... Well, pardon my language but I have no other word to use: sexy. (There. I said it. There goes my dignity.) "Might I have the first dance with your daughter?"

I tried to shoo him away, but Father was quick to respond. "The Prince was supposed to have it," he mused, "but since you asked so politely, and our Prince seems to be nowhere in sight... Dance with her..." Father twirled his hand, asking for a name.

"Lumin," stated the peasant. "Son of Valor." I suppressed the urge to laugh aloud. Lumin wasn't a name that this lowly creature deserved. A pig farmer, I thought he was. He probably slept in the sties. None-the-less, I had to dance with him. He led me away from the table, holding my hand with a surprising amount of grace. He was probably a pervert as well. Oh, joy. I'm stuck dancing with a dirty womanizing pig keeper.

The music was a light waltz. Our movements were quick. He surprised me again with his light feet and ability. A smile darted across his face and I noticed his eyes for the first time. "You are quite the beauty, ma'am," said he. "You do look exactly like your father."

I frowned and squeezed his shoulder a little tighter. No one ever mentioned that to me in the Villa. I doubted even half of the slaves that worked in my house knew what I looked like. "And who told you that I did?" I said, sounding a bit more condescending than I should.

"My father did," he replied. He must have noticed the glare I gave him, as he laughed at me, "Heheh, so you really don't know who I am. I figured that you or your father or someone else might suspect..."

I stopped dancing and pulled out of his grasp. I stood firm, making sure that I took on the most demanding tone I possibly could. "Who are you," I barked, "and what are you talking about?"

A few of the couples around us paused momentarily and stared. They flitted back into the dance carelessly as Lumin bowed, took my hand, and kissed it. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said. He stood; his countenance held a regal air. "I am Lumaria Varluse, Crown Prince of Galacia and your future husband." He stroked my hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Relena."

--

And that's where I'll leave off.

Hope Robin and Connie liked it (-:.