I should start off by saying this is a multi-fandom story but because of the formatting of this site I'll break it up into parts. If you want to read a more continuous chapter by chapter without any breaks between changing fandoms. I'm under the same user name on Quotev where you can find this story there. I originally posted the story there but as you can see, I've been gone from FF but I want to return. So here we are. Let's hop to it.
I am me.
And boy, the stories I could tell because of it.
I was born to Shirayuki and Zen of Clariness. My father -Zen- was the younger brother to the king of Clariness and although he was of a higher social status than my mother- Shirayuki- he married her anyway. Despite their tribulations- they managed a peaceful life...as peaceful as a royal life can get anyway. My mother was appointed as head herbalist of the court soon after their marriage and two years later had their first child.
My mother had the prettiest hair than anyone else. It was red but the red you would find on an apple or on a Coca-Cola can (not that they know what that is). My father appeared to be albino but I say he's not. I say that it was his white hair that blended with my mother's hair to give me my pink hair. No one had ever seen a child with hair such as mine. Throughout my life though- it's more of a purplish pink than a redish pink. I have a theory on that though.
At the time of my birth they had given me the name Adaela. Who would have thought that I would come to hate that name I was called by?
I've read the reports in their archives - I used to be the treasure of the nation. Cherished by everyone- considered a true gem.
The nation's celebration wouldn't last..instead it would be struck with grief and sadness.
...I died.
Not really- only the idea of Adaela died. Weird, huh?
It was a windy night of April. Most people were asleep at that time... except for some poor guards with the night shift. Those poor souls don't get paid enough. Someone had snuck into the castle that night and ever so quietly crept into the room where my cradle was positioned. My parents never heard a sound.
I was picked up as gently as possible to not make any noise and within seconds, my three month old self was in the arms of a stranger with unknown intentions.
The intruder walked over to the balcony- stepped over the rail and vanished into the night.
It wasn't until morning when the castle had realized that little Adeala was gone.
Much later, my abilities in life have left others to make assumptions about me that are a little less than true. Some were brave enough to call me a freak- at least those who feared the unknown.
They aren't wrong. I've never been what society would call normal...any society for that matter.
I've spent most of my life traveling to find a place that I could call home, without much success.
Now, I suppose you're wondering what kind of story this is.
This is my story and it's a long one.
...where to start?
I suppose every good story starts at the beginning, right?
