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Komui loved Lenalee.

He loved her so much. There was no other word to describe the passionate feeling of protectiveness that overwhelmed all his other feelings.

Yet they were brother and sister ; the most he could do was finger her long raven hair lovingly or stroke her cheek on the impulse of situations. He could never sleep well in their little cottage while she was still on her many journey's to the main village. And most would say that he had good reason to as well.

There was only one path which lead to the village and it happened to pass the sorcerers tower. It was the said to be the most frightening building in the whole kingdom. Hardly anybody would dare cross paths with it, and brave souls who actually went near it came back stuttering and terrified. Dark vermilion roses grew underneath it, twirling around the grey slate building, encircling it with a thorn crown. There was one single window, perched high above the towering oaks that hid the tower well.

Rumour's were spread about it… Rumours of a lady who lived inside, daunted by love for her perished husband, thus signifying the bush of red that surrounded it.

Komui had never liked these rumours, yet never quite believed them either. Wary of the tower, he told Lenalee to be careful. But like the carefree girl she is, she waved them off and laughed at the simple absurdity of the concept. Refusing his offer to accompany her into the village, she shook her head light-heartedly, 'No… No… Komui my dear brother… What makes you think such a thing is necessary?'

So both of them ignored it, and soon the tower was but a mere shadow of their lives, a monument that stood there along with trees and birds. As the going on's of everyday life wore on, a new member of the family was introduced.

Komui, who just came home from cutting wood for the fire, caught a glimpse a tiny whirl of blue whipping out of sight. He frowned. It had looked like hair. He deposited the wood onto the doormat and ran towards it, determined to find the source of the flash of colour.

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On the near other side of the kingdom, a young prince had just finished dining with important ministerial member's of the royal family. Mana Walker, his father, had softly, but with an iron will, entitled him to join them. He spoke as if the young prince had choice with this matter.

Like he ever will…

Allen sighed and propped himself on the leather sofa, leaning in a comfortable position. He had to enjoy every single moment he had to himself, mainly because of the stunning rate of it's increase in rarity. It was always the same. Paperwork he had to sign, important old men he had to take care of, rejecting women who showed interest in his love life… The list wore on.

Yet he wished it was as easy to manage as it seemed. The king had only recently ordered that he was to marry someone… anyone within a few months. If the deadline was exceeded, then an arranged marriage would be put in place.

The prospect was positively daunting.

At times like this, he wished intensely that he was but a mere pheasant boy who toiled the fields. Maybe he could run away… He shook his head, no… running away would be far too hard. He had been seen publicly once too many.

But his lips soon twitched into a small wry smile. Well, if people can recognise him, then he'll just have to make himself unrecognisable, wouldn't he? He would do well with a change in the clothes he wore and a change of attitude. He always loathed it when people spoke with a formality that was only a plastic façade of their real self.

Being next in line to the throne, he only ever got to see that one side of a person's true personality. He was far too important, as people liked to say. He had never believed in that particular perspective of himself. For he was simply an 18 year old with royal blood in his veins, no said interest in pretty woman, and have a horribly controlling father.

He had always wanted to change that, and he felt a plan in the making. If he could just get out of this repetitive life… Who knows, he might even be able to fall in love. Fall in love with a woman who actually loved him, and not only wanted the throne. Yes, wouldn't that life be wonderful? Besides, he wondered how they lived their lives.

There were too many things he wanted, and it overweighed his heart felt remorse for leaving his father behind. He quickly decided on a different courses of action, and seeing no other way, decided to dress himself up as a scullery maid. Other's used to always say just how feminine he looked. It used to annoyed him greatly, for he was a male after all.

But this time, looking feminine might actually be an asset. There weren't a lot of male servants in the palace and even if he tried to dress up as one, people would see through this immediately. No... opting as a woman would be the best choice.

He quietly opened the large set of double doors that lead to the hallway and poked his head outside cautiously. Good. There were no guards who were usually standing outside. Perhaps they went to lunch? Or did they simply abandon their posts for some fun? Either way, Allen slipped out of his room with ease.

He crept into a side stairway that would lead him to the servants quarters. It was musty and dark; he could hardly edge his way around. It spiralled down circular wise, with only a few windows every so often. Was this how the servants and cleaners always go downstairs? He felt quite claustrophobic after a while of endless darkness.

A small ray of light signalled the end of the staircase. Allen looked eagerly forward and increased his pace breaking into a bustling workplace full of people running around. With all the cakes, meat and a fragrant scent lingering in the air, he took it to be a kitchen.

He walked around unnoticed – they were too busy to really be able to distinguish him from the others. The soot that came from the staircase stuck on his clothes. Besides, he had taken it to himself to don ordinary wear. He grabbed a spare grubby old gown and to make himself more convincing, a maid's hat.

Allen slipped into a toilet and quickly disposed of his clothes, replacing it with the new ones. He was certain that his disappearance would be acknowledged by now. He just hoped it wouldn't cause too much of an uproar. One thing was certain though – there was simply no way that anybody could have found out that he dressed himself up.

Right?

If he was to relay the truth to himself, then he would have to say that he was conscious of himself. In fact, he was extremely conscious of himself. The clothes he wore stunk of sweat and labour and only thinking about the adventures that he might have kept him going. He reached a small wooden door and opened it roughly, revealing in the bright sunshine that radiated across his rather few exposed skin.

He had never been through a side door, having always used the main entrance and he found the experience quite fruitless. But he was in the outside world now. His long imprisonment was over. He could do whatever he wished!

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