A/N: Hey! *wave* I actually don't remember where this idea came from? Probably nowhere. The depths of my brain. *covers face* Well, I was going to go full cheesy eventually.
Title: See You Later
Author: liketolaugh
Rating: T
Pairings: Link/Allen
Genre: Romance
Warnings: Fairytale logic, AU
Summary: On the first night, Allen meets the prince. On the second, they become friends. On the third- Allen has to leave before Link can tell him what he wants to do next. Cinderella AU.
Disclaimer: Like hell I own D. Gray-man.
"Mana, when are you gonna get well?"
Allen played up the petulance in his voice in the hopes that it would hide the fear. Nonetheless, he was curled up under the covers with his father, one hand clutching at the man's shirt and the other, his left, tucked between them. The room was well-lit by a lamp hanging in the corner, and a persistent chill hung in the air. Allen knew that if he went outside, there would be nothing but sparkling white as far as Allen could see.
Mana chuckled quietly, winced, and reached over to pat Allen's head gently, prompting a scowl.
"Silly boy," he murmured. "You heard what the doctor said."
A wave of misery crashed over Allen and wrapped around his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. When he found his voice again, he snapped,
"The doctor lied. He's a lying liar and a jerk. You're gonna be fine, and then I'll have to deal with your stupid damn jokes for the rest of my life."
Mana's smile softened, and Allen growled, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead into Mana's side. He felt Mana's hand slide from his head down to squeeze his shoulder, warm and unfairly steady, and for a few minutes, both of them were quiet. When Mana spoke again, Allen started, but adamantly refused to look up.
"Promise me something," Mana requested.
Allen grumbled something incoherent into Mana's shirt. Mana chuckled again and continued anyway.
"Promise me that after I'm gone, you'll smile and be happy."
Allen heard him, but he stubbornly refused to say anything in reply. After a moment, Mana's hand shifted again, from his shoulder to his back, rubbing gentle circles there, and neither of them spoke again that night.
Mana died on a clear winter's day, when everything was too bright to be gloomy, but too silent to be cheerful. Allen sat at his father's grave and stared at it and let the stifling cold press down around him. In a daze, he came back every morning, and every night, returned to an empty silent house. With each passing day, the suffocating white leeched a little more color from him, until his auburn hair was white as the snow around it, and his dark grey eyes had lightened to a clear silver.
After a week, this routine was interrupted by Mana's brother, Neah D. Campbell.
Mana had been a nobleman, but he hadn't conducted himself like one. He'd had an appearance too ordinary, a smile too kind, and clothing too disheveled for a proper nobleman.
Neah acted like a nobleman, in all his pride and haughtiness and vanity. His hair was glossy black to Mana's dull brown, his clothing in perfect order instead of Mana's disorder, and Allen had never once seen him smile.
Then again, perhaps it was only Allen he never smiled around. After all, the first thing he told Allen was how little he cared for him.
"Mana asked me to look after you," he'd said to Allen, when he stumbled in damp and cold. "But that doesn't mean I have to care about you."
Allen, still numb, hadn't processed his words right away – he hadn't even immediately registered that he didn't know the man. His mind had been elsewhere, on another cold day the year before, and the quiet request made under lamplight.
Promise me that after I'm gone, you'll smile and be happy.
Allen thought, I will, Mana.
And he smiled.
But he didn't register Neah's frown.
Neah, it developed, had taken in two of his younger cousins already; Tyki and Road. Tyki was a little older than Allen, and he was careless and arrogant, happy to flaunt his age and Neah's favor. Road was a little younger than him, and she was playful and sadistic; not six months after their arrival, she trapped Allen and cut his face open with a knife, laughing at his cries.
It was neither the first nor the last incident of its kind, but it was the only time Neah interfered, and it left Allen with a fierce, jagged scar down the left side of his face, his eye barely salvaged.
Still, Allen smiled.
Even as he was put to work, singlehandedly cooking and cleaning and sewing for the whole household, he smiled.
He hadn't promised. But Mana had asked, and that was enough.
On Allen's sixteenth birthday, Prince Howard Link's twentieth, his coming-of-age, to be celebrated with a ball lasting three days, was announced. Thus, a day that may have passed without acknowledgement was spent abuzz with excitement.
"Uncle Ne-ah!" Road pouted, clinging to Neah's elbow like a trophy wife. "I want to go to the ball!"
Neah raised an eyebrow at his niece. "The ball is in four days," he said mildly. "We have nothing to wear."
That was a blatant lie; each of them – Neah, Tyki, and Road, that was – had wardrobes upon wardrobes of nice things to wear. Neah's problem, of course, was that it had all been worn before, and only brand new clothing could be worn to a Royal Ball.
"We'll never be ready in time," Neah concluded, reaching down to pat Road's hand.
"Allen can do it!" Road insisted. "Allen can make us new clothing to wear!" She released Neah's elbow and rounded on Allen, grabbing his forearm in a bruising grip that made him wince. "Can't you, Allen?"
Allen managed a smile for her. "Of course I can," he demurred. In return, she squeezed his arm until his bones creaked and a gasp left his lips, and then let it go with a beam to spin back to Neah.
"See, we can go!" Road huffed, crossing her arms.
"He's teasing, Road," Tyki informed her, crossing the room to stand nearby and smirk at Neah. "Aren't you, Uncle dear?"
Neah smirked as well, an almost identical expression to Tyki's. "Of course." He glanced at Allen and his smirk vanished, replaced by dislike. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get to work."
Allen thought that he was unlikely to get a better chance than this, so he took a deep breath, counted up the pros and cons, and asked, "Neah, if I finish your clothing early, may I go as well?"
Road laughed, high and derisive. Tyki turned his head to glance at Allen, his smirk once again in place and a hint of cruel amusement in his eyes. Allen ignored them both, keeping his silver eyes on Neah.
Neah's amiable expression had transformed into a scowl. "Don't be idiotic. You're an embarrassment to this family; worse, you're deformed." He spared a disgusted look to Allen's left arm, and Allen flinched. "You're not going anywhere near the castle while I can help it."
Allen ducked his head and smiled, even as his cousins' laughter grew in volume and spitefulness. "Okay," he said softly. "I understand."
On that first day, Allen went to get the materials from town. He'd been given enough money to get all the cloth in all the colors his relatives could ever want, and he did, taking yards of satins and silks in a rainbow of colors.
With his own money, filched and found over the years, he bought cloth in two colors: the first smooth and glossy, in such a deep blue that Allen could almost believe it would soon fade to starry black, and the other an even cream that could have been skimmed from a pail.
On the first night, Allen made a vest of the soft cream cloth and went to sleep.
On the second day, Road occupied his time all the day he wasn't occupied by his chores. She demanded ruffles and lace and prettier colors, nicer embroidery, a shorter hem. And Allen sewed her a scarlet gown with deep pink cuffs and a matching neckline, with a pastel pink breast, and Road declared herself satisfied.
The second night, Allen made a pair of breeches of the soft cream cloth and went to sleep.
The third day, Tyki took great pleasure in breaking him away from whatever task he was completing to do something else, and making him start over when he returned. He changed what he asked for every time Allen turned around, and Allen had to begin again. At the end of the day, Allen made him a violet coat on a black vest and breeches, and Tyki declared himself satisfied.
The third night, Allen made a coat of the glossy night-sky cloth and went to sleep.
On the fourth day, Neah made things difficult for Allen. Allen could not touch him too much, or speak too many words to him, or stay too long in the same room as him. All of these things made Allen tired and frustrated as even Tyki's games hadn't done, and it was late into the night before he finished. But in the end, he made Neah a navy coat with a paler blue vest and breeches, and Neah, too, was satisfied.
On the fourth night, Allen went to sleep.
The fifth day, the day of the Prince's birthday and the first night of the ball, Allen realized how stupid he'd been.
While his cousins and uncle were as excited as they had been the day the ball was announced, Allen was thinking about his appearance – his snow white hair and bold scar and the blood-red color of his left arm. There was no way his family wouldn't recognize him in a moment. On top of that, they would surely discover the suit hidden among the mess of old clothing, and then he would be in trouble on top of it all.
So when it came time for the other three to leave, he sat by the fireplace and watched them go. When he was sure they were gone, he sat on the front stairs to watch the castle in the distance, a wistful smile on his face.
It had snowed earlier, and the remnants of it crunched under Allen's feet. It was still light out, and the cold made Allen shiver, while the clean scent of pine hung in the air and tickled his nose. The sky was a dull, cloudy white, and in the distance, faded by fog, the castle loomed.
"It would have been nice to go," he murmured to himself, laying his cheek in his hand.
Somewhere off to the side, snow crunched. A rock hit his head.
"Ow," Allen complained. Another rock hit his head, and he looked over with a faint scowl, just in time to duck another. "What the hell?"
Just within sight, half-hidden by a tree, a tall man with long red hair was watching him… and holding yet another rock in his hand.
Allen stood up hastily and stormed over to him, jerked out of his reverie. The man eyed him with something like approval and tossed the rock away, instead stuffing his hand into his pocket.
"Who are you?" Allen asked, a little shorter of temper than usual.
"Cross Marian," the man answered instantly, now looking him up and down thoughtfully. "I was a friend of your father's." For a moment, he hesitated, and then huffed quietly, raising his eyes to meet Allen's. "Promised him I'd look after you."
Then why didn't you? Allen refused to ask, and said instead, "Oh."
Cross eyed him suspiciously like he knew what Allen was thinking, but said instead, "And I gotta say, I think you took his words in completely the wrong direction. When he says 'smile and be happy' the important part there is probably, you know, 'be happy'."
Allen repressed the urge to bristle. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked sharply.
Cross snorted in such a way that it made Allen feel like he'd asked a stupid question, which made him scowl. "You want to go to that ball thing, don't you?"
Despite himself, Allen stole a glance back at the silhouette of the castle, and when he looked back at Cross, he nodded reluctantly.
"I'd like to dance," he admitted in a low voice. "But there's not really any chance of that."
Cross snorted again. "Idiot," he muttered, and out of his coat, pulled something that Allen didn't recognize until he'd thrown it at Allen. "Take that and go to the stupid ball."
Allen frowned at him, looked down, and unfolded the bundle of cloth until he realized what it was.
The suit he'd made.
He looked up at Cross with wide eyes and a half-open mouth, and Cross smirked.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, frowning. Cross' smirk transformed into a scowl.
"Don't ask stupid questions!"
Allen frowned at him for a moment longer, and then remembered what the problem had been in the first place, and even as he drew the suit to his chest protectively, he said softly, "I can't go. Neah will know I was there." With one hand, still twisted in cloth, he gestured to his head. "I'm not exactly difficult to recognize."
Cross sighed, the sound heavy and put-upon, as if he, too, saw Allen as a burden. Which was probably true, come to think of it, if, like Neah, he was looking after Allen only for Mana's sake.
Even in death, Mana was looking after Allen.
Then Cross reached out and, before Allen could react, tapped Allen on the forehead. Allen frowned as warmth spread across his face and head, all the way down to his neck, from the point of contact. Before he could ask what Cross had done, the man shoved something into his hands, and Allen glanced down to find that it was a pair of nice, white gloves.
Now Cross looked smug. "There. Hair normal, scar gone, hand hidden. Magic'll wear off by midnight, but it'll hold up 'til then. Got any other complaints, princess?"
Allen reached up and took a lock of hair between his fingers, glanced down at it, and found it… Red. Just as it had been before.
He smiled.
"No," he said quietly. "Thank you."
And, ignoring Cross' startled face, he turned and went back into the house to change.
He had a ball to attend.
And, there we go! *smile* This fic is going to have two more parts, hopefully posted next Monday and the one after. Thanks for reading, and please review!
Edited 8/21/16