Trapped in an Endless Waltz
(disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or claim it as my own. I am only inspired by the characters and write about them. After all, isn't that what fanfiction is? I write for others to enjoy! So please do!)
(UPDATED: 5/22/09)
The waves crashed against the stone walls, beating against it every few seconds as if it were an impatient man knocking repeatedly on a door. The water had darkened, reflecting the black clouds overhead. The wind grew stronger with every persistent wave, blowing hair into the face of an isolated watcher.
She brushed the blue strands away from her eyes, only to have them block her gaze again with the next gust. As she watched the approaching storm, she thought of the event she was to attend in an hour. It was, after all, her own engagement party. She sighed heavily as another wind blew more of her short hair into her face. Even though her future marriage had been arranged since she was born, her father insisted on publicly announcing it and celebrating with a masquerade ball.
She thought it a sign that a terrible storm was brewing on the night of a celebration. She leaned on the rail of her balcony, casting her gaze to the horizon. She wondered what it would be like to live on the water, taking life one day at a time, fighting pirates, or even being a pirate.
Being a woman was rather boring.
Her life was already planned out, and it wasn't by her, but by her parents. She would stay in the castle, marry a wealthy man, bear his children, and be a decorative ornament on his arm until the day she died. Well, her parents didn't exactly say that, but she knew that's what was going to happen. She had an older brother who would inherit the throne, and two younger brothers if anything happened to him. There was no chance of her ruling the kingdom.
Her life was boring.
She had tried to convince her father to let her learn to use a sword, but he absolutely refused. He believed that women are delicate creatures, not made for battle.
"But what if the pirates attack and come for me, and I'm alone?"
"There is no need to worry over pirates," her father scoffed. "Security is number one here, and there has yet to be a pirate to set foot in my castle. You have your brothers and a fiancé to guard you. Not even that Chousekino character can step a toe on the marble floor without finding a sword through his chest."
She had laughed at him silently. She had heard many stories about Chousekino, captain of the Uzumaki. The Uzumaki was the most illusive ship on the planet, able to escape any other that dared try to catch it. Chousekino was a man who got anything he wanted, and went through any means to get it. He could find his way through any trap, and no jail cell could hold him.
That's why her brother's had willingly taught her to sword fight in secret. They knew just what kind of men were out there. "Scoundrels," her elder brother said. "Women are just cheap treasure to them. They'll take you with no regards to your own feelings."
As a flash of lightning appeared along the horizon, she smiled. It was ironic how all men seemed to be a pirate. Weren't her own father and her fiancé treating her like a trinket, a treasure to trade with, despite her own thoughts?
The water was forcing itself harder against the castle and the rocks below. For an instant, she thought she could show them all, that for once she would make her own choice. The ocean looked so inviting, and to jump below into the rocks promised a quick death.
She hoisted herself onto the ledge, her bare feet hardly keeping her balanced on the slippery stone. Her hair was still blowing in her face, and the air was cold, ready for the rain. She stood up straight, her arms extended out to her sides. For a moment, she felt like she could fly and leave her troubles. She closed her eyes, ready to fall forward.
"Princess Ameline! What in good heaven's name are you doing?"
The voice of her chambermaid startled her, and instead of falling forward, she fell back onto the balcony, sprawled on the stone.
"Mistress! Are you all right?"
Ameline sat up, rubbing her back. "Yes. Only my pride was hurt."
"What pride is there in trying to die?" The maid pulled her up to her feet. "What's in your head?"
"Nothing, Lucinda. Nothing at all." Ameline was led into her room, where a white dress was laying on her bed. "I'd rather wear black," she muttered under her breath.
"Mistress, maybe one day you'll see that the Count is a wonderful man."
Ameline shook her head. Lucinda could never understand.
Lurking in the shadows around the palace, a man watched with greedy eyes as guests worked their way into the grand hall. They brought with them fine gifts, boxes of gold and jewels, and other such minor treasures. He was satisfied with the idea of ambushing the palace, for the masquerade had proved quite helpful. He and his men would sneak in unnoticed, grab what they came for, and maybe some of the gifts as well, and leave with such ease.
After all his men successfully passed the guards with their false invitations, the man secured his silk mask before stepping out of the shadows. He felt slightly overdressed, at least compared to what he wore on a normal day. He had purchased a new waistcoat for this occasion, and it was still stiff.
As he sauntered over to the man checking the invitations, he saw that he was watching him rather curiously. He knew exactly why, too.
"And what exactly are you dressed as, my lord?" the man asked. His tone was rather dry and long, as if he was rather bored with everything.
The masked man looked down at his new blue coat, adorned with gold buttons. Underneath was a fresh, clean white shirt, complete with ruffles down the chest and the bottom of the sleeves. His pants were cleaned that morning, and he made sure they were his best pair. His shoes, however, were worn with age, and he made a mental note to find a new pair soon, whether he bought them or stole them.
He swept his wide brimmed feather hat in an overdramatic bow. "Why, I am a pirate, good fellow. Haven't you ever seen one? Or is this the only job they let you do?"
If the man was amused or irritated, he wasn't letting anyone know. He just simply held out his hand and asked, "May I see your invitation, my lord?"
The masked man put his hat back over his head, covering his golden waves. He had actually washed and pulled it back today, to make his appearance more conceivable. Out of his pocket he pulled a small letter, trimmed with gold writing. He handed it to the guard.
"Very well, Lord Wittseland. Enjoy your evening."
"Oh, I will," he replied, mimicking the guard's boring tone. He entered the ballroom, his blue eyes absorbing everything from behind his mask. He not only looked at the food and well-endowed women, but at the gifts, and all the possible exits. A trumpet soon sounded, announcing the beginning of the evening. The costumed pirate felt a firm hand on his shoulder, turning his attention away from everything else.
"Now, cap'n?"
He shook his head, not even turning to look at the face of the speaker. He knew it was his accomplice, Ni, his second in command. "It's too soon. Now is not the time."
As the trumpets sounded again, everyone turned their attention to the grand staircase, where a lovely woman stood at the top. The masked pirate found himself watching in awe as the beautiful angel descended from atop the stairs, her dress floating around her. He was almost breath taken by her beauty, when he suddenly noticed the sad gleam in her eyes.
Ni leaned close to him, whispering in his ear. "Well, since you get to take one, can I grab the busty red head o're there?"
He shook his head, his eyes never wavering from the beautiful princess. "Mine is strictly business, not pleasure."
Princess Ameline took the hand that was offered to her as she reached the bottom of the steps. The man waiting for her was her future husband, and she never realized before just how much older he was. As he led her up to the throne where her father stood waiting, she began to wonder if there was any way to escape.
Her father smiled at her, but it was rather emotionless. Or perhaps it was only that way to her, since at that moment she detested him, for giving her away like a doll. "Ladies and gentleman," he began, the room falling silent. "You have been invited to celebrate with us this evening, as we announce the engagement of my daughter, Princess Ameline Cornelia Saphile. In a month's time, she will be wed to Count Reginald Vistale, at which time we will celebrate again."
The ballroom filled with applause, but Ameline felt dead inside. As of this moment, there was no more chance to rule her own life. Even though the crowd was overjoyed, she felt hollow.
"May I have this dance, my lady?" the count asked, as the music began to play. He was already leading her out onto the floor, and her empty figure was pulled into the waltz position. She had danced so many times that it had become a habit for her. Or perhaps she was able to dance without thinking about the steps because her soul had escaped, and her body was now just a marionette, her strings pulled by the men all around her.
As the song came to an end, and was replaced by a more upbeat tune, her fiancé released his hold on her. "I'm going to get us a drink," he said, and left her on the middle of the dance floor. Ameline looked around, wondering what she was supposed to do. Already, he was expecting her to wait around for him.
"A lovely lady like you should not be easily abandoned," a charming voice spoke behind her. "It makes it easier for a man like me to come sweep you off to dance."
She turned, and came face to face with a handsome stranger, wearing a large hat with a long feather. "Forgive me, sir, but might I inquire...what are you dressed as?"
He laughed. "Many are asking me tonight. I must not have picked a good costume." He took off his hat, bowing at the waist. "I am a pirate," he smiled. "And might I have this dance? Seeing as your fiancé has left you behind to discuss matters with his men."
Ameline followed his gaze to the table lining the walls, and found her Count Vistale sitting with a group of men, talking and laughing. She didn't know whether or not to be angry or to cry. Emotions seemed to be gone from her, and she turned back to the costumed pirate. She held out her hand, her only way of accepting his offer at the moment.
He pulled her toward him, and as they danced around the floor, Ameline suddenly felt alive. Dancing with her fiancé, she had felt a cold distance between him, his hold on her insecure. But this man was holding her close, his moves confident: she felt secure. Why was this bothering her so?
"Are you happy?" he whispered in her ear, as if he could read her mind.
She looked at him questioningly, and answered. "Why shouldn't I be?" But she knew her tone of voice was deceiving her. As they were circling around the room, he suddenly pulled her threw an open door that led to the outdoor balcony.
"Look at these people," he said, waving his hand in the direction of the dance floor. Ameline saw many couples, dancing around, moving in the same direction with the same steps. "Are you going to be like them your whole life?" he asked.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Everyone is the same," he said, pulling her toward the edge of the balcony. He leaned against it, still facing the ballroom. "The men lead the women around. It's been that way for centuries. You can learn everything about life in a waltz."
"Oh really," Ameline questioned. She was becoming amused by his talk.
"Of course. The men lead, always walking forward, while the women are being led around, walking backwards. They never get to see or choose where they get to go." He scoffed at them, and turned around, looking out over the water. "That's why the ocean is so different."
Ameline turned around as well, placing her hands on the marble banister. She remembered her urge from earlier today, when she had thought about living on the water, free from everything. She blushed remembering her feeble attempt at plunging into the water, making her own choice for once.
"On the water, you're free," he continued, bringing Ameline back to reality. "True, the wind tries to push you around, but you can always get around it. Just like people. They try to take you one way, but there's always a way to avoid them." He breathed in deep, closing his eyes. A stray curl around his face was fluttering in the breeze, and Ameline was captivated by his independence. "The ocean sets you free."
Ameline hung her head, turning away. "It won't for me." She took a few steps forwards, watching the swirling couples. "I'll always be trapped in an endless waltz."
She felt his hand touch her shoulder tenderly, and his breathe tickling her ear. "Come away with me, then," he whispered. "I can set you free."
Ameline gasped, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "How can you do that?"
"Your fiancé promises you a life of endless monotony. He'll lead you around, your actions totally made by him. Is that what you want?" He paused for a moment, and her silence was answer enough for him. "I can take you away from here, to the sea, where you will be free to be who you were truly destined to be."
Ameline watched the dancers, and she could see her fiancé, smoking away with the men at a table. It appeared he had completely forgot about her. Perhaps he believed she would wait for him, and would always wait.
Behind her, the ocean was whispering its own promises. Every crash of each wave was different, just like the days. The water would carry her to different places, lands she had never been to. She would be free.
Ameline was holding up the front of her skirt to avoid tripping on it. Who knew running could be so exhilarating? She was following the man who had set her free. He was leading her to a ship that could take her to the next country on their small planet. His feather was fluttering all about as he led her through the streets, laughing and smiling at her. She couldn't help but smile back.
They rounded a corner, and a magnificent ship was at the dock. Ameline, having seen many ships from her bedroom window, knew that this ship was designed for speed. Her adrenaline was rushing now, for her father's men would have a hard time finding her once they realized she was missing. This ship was sure to aid her.
Her heels clicked against the wooden plank as the boarded the ship. Her rescuer lifted her over the ledge and set her down on the deck. Ameline smiled at the sailor's on the ships.
But her smile quickly faded. These men weren't dressed in the traditional sailor suits. Their clothes were ragged and worn. One man was entirely covered in tattoos; another was wearing a patch over his right eye. Suddenly, her heart was not rushing with excitement: it was full of fear.
She looked back at the man she had followed, her eyes looking for answers to her questions. As the plank was pulled away and the ship lurched forward, he took off his mask and smiled devilishly.
"Welcome aboard the Uzumaki, my dear Princess Ameline."