Fanfiction Idea: Alternate Reality – MeruPuri Style
What if Aram's memories were never returned to him? What if he never remembered Airi – What would happen?
Since then, it's been two years.
Aram, at fourteen years of age, is formally and legally wed to Mariabe, also fourteen.
Jeile, twenty-one, is technically engaged to Nei, Lei's sister.
And Airi, now seventeen, is alone, trapped in the kingdom of Astale – thanks to Raz, she can never return to her home; she can never have a normal life again. She can't use magic, either.
Jeile does end up bailing her out of jail.
1
In the east, the pale winter sun rose slowly from slumber, rising as if it had all the time on Earth, and not a care in the world. It's distant rays lit up the skies with hues of glimmering gold, rosy pink, orange, and red; and in the north corner of the castle, a breeze began to stir, brought on by the chilly northern winds. A slender girl of seventeen sat on the edge of a stone windowsill, staring out with poorly disguised longing out among the cleverly cultivated, royal palace gardens, designed and the care of which was directed by the Queen. Her long, honey blonde hair fell to the small of her back in gentle waves, and her lavender-brown eyes gazed out into space with an auora of sadness that seemed to have a somewhat suphoric effect on her, evidenced by her long and gangly limbs, hanging limply over the edge; one wrong move, one inch closer to the edge of the windowsill, and she would fall – she knew she would, and just that small amount of control, that piece of control she held over her own life, gave her pleasure.
But it was merely an illusion; she had tried to take her life from the fall months earlier, and had failed, and since then Jeile had spun magical webs around the area, to catch her if she should make another attempt. But she would not – there was no guarantee that she would succeed. And the rules were already strict enough without her adding to them. Airi Hoshina brought her knees into her hollow chest, and let out a loose sigh as she heard the morning lark's voice chirp upon the air – soon, she knew, it would be time for her to rise, whether she wished to or not. All of the domestic servants, male and female, were supposed to rise from their assigned sleep at the exact same time – just after dawn.
Tap tap tap!
A soft knock fell upon her door, and Airi stiffened.
"You can come in,"
She called out, but didn't even turn around – she knew only one other person could be up so early.
"I'm sorry, Airi onee-san, but I couldn't wait - ! I've never been to a festival before – and it being his Highness Aram's birthday, too! A year ago, no, five months ago, I'd never thought I'd be in the capital."
Aram. The sound of his name, a sound she was forced to hear day in, day out, stabbed a knife into her heart, a heart that, despite two years of separation, hadn't found the time to heal. Putting a fake, small smile on her face to fool her naïve friend, Airi turned around and laughed softly.
"You sound nervous, Riko-chan!"
For what would be one of the very few times for the entire day, Airi smiled at Rieko's obvious blush – it was heartwarming.
"But how can I not be?!"
Rieko whined, pulling worryingly at her dark, long curls of black hair, that so prettily clashed with her pale, doll-like skin. Jumping down a mere two feet from the windowsill, Airi gave her friend an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder and the most sincere grin she could muster.
"Don't worry so much, Riko- You have Jeile-sama to look out for you, and you have me and the other girls as well. So stop being such a cry-baby,"
Airi teased, nudging Rieko on the shoulder playfully, when suddenly another, deeper voice appeared from the still open doorway.
"How many times have I told you by now, Airi?"
Jeile.
That arrogant, capricious, spoiled young man that Airi, ever reluctantly, was indebted to. Riko immediately froze, and the two of them curtsied, Rieko red as a pickled radish, Airi coldly and indifferently; she kept her eyes on the ground, while Rieko couldn't help but look up from one second to the next.
"How many time have you told me what, your Highness?"
Rieko glanced at Airi nervously, and as a glowering Jeile approached them, she took another three steps back.
"Don't use 'sama' when it's just – when it's private – please, even in front of your friend – I know you trust her, so why can't you call me just by my name? You never did that to Ar.."
His hands crazed her cheek, and Airi's spine tightened, and she bit her lip.
"Don't. Don't say his name – please…Jeile."
The twenty-one year old heir to the Astalean throne smirked with triumph, and with a wave of his ringed right hand, he shooed a twitching Riko away and out of the room. As the door shut with a soft click behind them, Jeile approached Airi and, taking her hand gently, pulled her to the small bed she had to herself, in the tower – the room that he had given her after Aram – no, the memory was too painful for her to bear thinking about.
"Airi, I realize today must be hard for you, but please, I need you right now – please, don't be cold to me, not today .."
Without even a word from him, Airi lay down, on her back, upon the bed, her eyes misted over with pain and indifference as Jeile's lips brushed roughly against her cheek, her neck. She lay there, closed her eyes, and tried to forget. To forget one's past love. How she wished she could.
Aram.