Intro

There's a tale that many believe to be only myth. Something so incredibly rare and unheard of, that humans would have a hard time accepting otherwise. And once you've heard it, I wouldn't be surprised if you think me crazy. Because all you are able to do is think logically. The closest you get to irrational things just turn out to be complicated situations, I understand, but that doesn't necessarily mean they don't happen. So whether you consider it or not, the tale I am about to recite to you is right, that much I promise.

It was a long time ago, hidden in the medieval period. The daughter of a noble was secreted from the world by her protective older brother. She was so dear to him that he could not bare to see her marry off to the wrong man. So, he took it upon himself to find her soul mate, and every night he would walk the streets of the village market, searching for the boy with eyes and hair that shimmered of the purest gold.

But he worried.

What if she wondered out of the castle while he was away? Or worse, the garden premises? Bordering their grounds was a dangerous forest that had numerous legends of deaths; every time someone died, their body was lost and all that remained was a curious object. All the items that he'd heard of were rubbish of sorts and two things were never the same. For that reason, he didn't entirely believe the warnings, but still took precautions in the interest of his sister. So, he locked her up. Everyday she chose to spend hours on end laying in the garden and marveling at the flowers. Every night she roamed the halls, in search of something to overtake her boredom. And they were happy like that, for sixteen years they lived harmoniously and Dorothea wasn't one to question her brother's coming and goings.

Then one peculiar dream struck her interest. At the beginning, the sound of laughter, pure and soft, caught her attention. Then, it was accompanied with a slight gruffer chuckle. She stood on an open hill, grass swaying and brushing her bare ankles. Dorothea faced a man and women holding hands, clearly amused at nothing. She became confused at their happiness and stepped towards them.

"Why be ye so merry?" Her words fell in deaf ears as the two looked at nothing but one another and smiled in a glee she did not recognize. But that twinkle in her eyes as she gazed upon him, the extra upturn to his smile as he caressed her lovingly, it was too perfect in Dorothea's mind. Then suddenly they were gone, replaced with the emptiness of her dark ceiling. She stared up, panting even though she hadn't done anything.

After that, Dorothea was determined to unearth what they had. She vowed to find such overwhelming joy even if it drove her to insanity.

She told her brother of the strange but uplifting vision, and he was careful to get each description she so vividly remembered. Every word was imprinted deeply into his memory for inspiration and drive.

Later that morning, he decided to leave earlier than usual, warning Dorothea that if she left the property, there would be grave consequences. He wasn't about to bar her inside for he would be more than just selfish to take away what little time she had in the gardens. Satisfied that she fully knew the seriousness of her position, he left near sunset, dressed as a commoner with no more than a cloak to veil his identity.

When he was out of her vision, Dorothea grabbed a random book off his study and lean against a familiar Oak Tree. She had read it already many times, but her boredom was nothing to sneeze at, and opted to daydream of her revelation. She wanted to be like that to, so carefree and peaceful. Outwardly she gave a distant sigh, barely noticing a small creature fly to the corner of her page. It shined, and if you were there, you would have probably thought it illuminated its own light. Dorothea gasped and gazed upon the mesmerizing silver beauty.

The most delicate butterfly she'd ever laid eyes on.

She felt it, the same emotion from her dream; it was coming from the odd being. Her attention became directed solely on the subtle insect and she unconsciously dropped her book to her side. She stood, her eyes unwaveringly planted toward the suspicious pest, and began to unsteadily fallow the ball of light into the thicket of trees, becoming engulfed without trouble.

Luckily, one of her chambermaids had witnessed the scene and felt an ominous aura coming from the strange winged life form. It was the most unsettling, foreign feeling she was placed with and being the cleverest out of all the servants, she hurried to contact the young master.

But deep in the woods, the situation was far past fixing. The butterfly had disappeared between branches, and Dorothea couldn't place which belonged to which anymore. Sounds, horrifyingly frightful sounds surrounded her, and she found herself swiveling to face where those reverberations came from. She wasn't able to see anything, and the only luminosity she had was the pink and orange hue of the shrouded sky. Dorothea panicked, and lost all senses, including her intuition of where the castle was situated. I guess you can say she was blind to almost everything.

Now before any of this, Dorothea was a very calm and cheery girl, obedient and kind, but that was because she was never truly exposed to the real world. The single form of human contact she'd ever experienced was that of the presence of her mother, father, brother and servants. So now, with this overwhelming feeling of rush and scare, she had a perfectly acceptable reason to be in such a pathetic state of frenzy.

Dorothea ran away, desperate to find an exit to her anguish. But sadly, fate was not so generous.

She finally collapsed in between two majestic oaks, and maybe it was just her, but they seemed to look down as her breathing became shallow. Her arm twitched from a dull, but unexpected ache in the back of her hand. She struggled to move her muscles one last time, using the strength she had thought yet to possess. There was red staining her hand, and it dripped off her fingers in the most soothing rhythm. Plop, plop, plop. She realized that the bark of a tree had grazed her, and the timber in this forest was the farthest thing from soft. Her body quaked, scared, tired and sore; the most she could do was watch the liquid with lessening interest. But she felt that with each passing drop, the sorrow inside her grew, and eventually, they spilled.

Unstoppable tears leaked quickly and repeatedly, and she felt so powerless, so… vulnerable. She hated this feeling. Dorothea pressed the heel of her palm to her eye in an attempt to reduce her bawl to, at the very least, a quiet whimper, but that ended with no avail.

So she let her tears fall next to her blood. It was unusual, the way they shined so artistically beside each other, but at the same time, it had such an eerie suspicion. Something bad was going to happen; anyone who saw it could feel it deep with their bones. This was no ordinary way to pass on.

And so she died, lying on the dust of the narrow path she'd so coincidentally stumbled upon. I'm not entirely sure of the events that fallowed, but the young mistress's body seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

How do you know so much if there was no one to have witnessed it? Is that what you're asking? Well it's simple really, there was someone watching. Someone who could not interfere no matter how much she wanted to. That person… was me, the cleverest of the young mistress's chambermaids. After sending forewarning to my lady's sibling, I dashed to where I was last to have seen her. I picked up her trail quite easily, having spotted her dainty feet prints, and discretely looked after her. I wasn't able to do anything, not a single thing, and to this day I still don't know why. My body… it felt like I was being pushed out by a barrier. My legs wouldn't move and my arms felt like led as I tried to shove my weight through invisible air. Yes it sounds crazy, yes I'm telling the truth, but like I've mentioned, this story would sound preposterous to you. There are things I cannot explain, but I saw it with my own two eyes, I swear! And after some time of struggling… I finally realized I could do nothing. That my job was over and I didn't have a child-like figure to care for anymore.

That thought drove me to my breaking point. As I watched my mistress die, I watched all our memories die along with her. When she would cry because her brother was being too overprotective. When she would summon me in the middle of the night because she couldn't sleep. And the one day she felt spontaneous and jumped the back wall as we spent the day pretending to be commoners. I tried to surpass a giggle remembering the face she made at the color of her garb. She made a point (after whining for nearly and hour) that purple wasn't her shade and had me trade with her.

It was the hardest thing I was forced to do; witness the death of my only joy. But I did, mentally sending her words of reassurance. I couldn't make a sound. I didn't want her to see me like that, broken and pitiful. And if she noticed me there, she may have mistaken my helplessness and sorrow as watching her die happily. There she was, vanishing before my eyes, and I did nothing to save her. And she would leave the world, cursing the very earth I stood on… cursing me in general.

I didn't want that.

So I wept silently beside her, knowing that even with my obvious presence, she would not be able to see me. She died on the year of our lord, twentieth of June; still vaguely know to the public.

It had told you her body was gone. I lowered my head to wipe my tears for a moment, and when I looked up, she was no where to be seen. I took a shaky step forward, noting that the barrier was no longer blocking me, and knelt by the place I was sure she'd been. And there it laid, a beautiful crystal necklace strung together by a deep red string. It was absolutely breath taking. But as I touched it, my bones became cold, but lit with fire at the same time. Ferocity burned within my eyes but my eyelids drooped down in a defeated manner.

I remembered those emotions. The same ones my dear Dorothea had never gotten the chance to express until today.

Sorrowful determination.

The ruby-like thread represented her fearful, short lived adventure, purpose for life the only thing keeping her going. And the tear-blue/clear crystals that hung down showed her sadness and forfeit. The two clashed in what seemed to be an unstoppable, disturbing rollercoaster. And you look at the piece of jewelry and you can't help but feel admiration. The tears accented the blood and vise versa. It was utterly breath taking.

After a long while of reflecting and mourning, young master had arrived and went shocked at the sight. There was no word to describe the amount of grief that surrounded him as he walked back to the castle, holding the necklace like it was about to break. Poor man, his heart was torn straight out of his chest and thrown somewhere he would never be able to find.

We signaled his parents to come and hear of the important news.

Her mother and father were devastated, and her brother was close to committing suicide. To his grave he blamed himself for the death of his younger sister, and was reluctant to take the title 'King'. Before the burial, King Peter, Queen Anastasia, and Prince Rupert announced the existence of their recently deceased princess, telling them of the impossible story and showing the magnificent charm for even the smallest of evidence. The citizens, we took notice, believed half-heartedly, and attended the ceremony in respects to their sweet lady. No one really understood, and as years went by, everyone but the royal family forgot of Dorothea's existence. The royal family would never forget, because engraved on the back of the middle jewel said:

No other daughter shall be born

'Till the 'true heir' shows

And out of the darkness comes Arlex

By the rule of 'her'

And the prophecy was correct. There was never another girl born among the line of regal. So they decided that if the necklace said this, then the necklace should be able to lead them to their last female monarch. Three days later, Rupert's grandson, King Conley, disguised himself as a wondering traveler and headed to small trinket store far down south of the city. He gave it to the jeweler and left discreetly back to the place where him and his descendants waited patiently for 'her'. But not long afterwards, Arlex was cast in darkness, doomed to be in the eyes of their enemies until their true ruler came and saved them from their suffering. And so began the legend of 'the she ruler', the one who possesses the ability to save her people.

The one called Mikan Sakura.

Hey everyone! Okay, we just want to clarify a few things. First off, this IS a Gakuen Alice fanfic; this is just the intro, promise! And secondly, yes, this is our first fanfic together, so please be nice.

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-Izabella's Jacked