Once, in a far away kingdom, lived happily a young pair.
A father, and a son.
Mana, the one true ruler of the kingdom known as Crown Clown, and Allen, the fidgety prince who sat numbly in his much too large throne.
Mana whispered comforting words as the two sat through a royal gathering, and once the time had come, the king arose and took his little one by the hand, introducing him to the world.
The crowd cheered, and cheered, and cheered for what seemed like hours as they all praised the little one. Portraits were painted, extreme measures were taken, and even the royal guards had - for once - dropped their sullen faces.
The king was dressed in a vibrant white, with a clawed cape that ran all down his back, and a silver mask covering his elegant, pale face.
"My people, I welcome to all of our hearts, prince of our land, Allen Walker!"
Or, so Allen wished.
It hadn't happened like that at all, actually.
Rather, quite the opposite.
For one, he hadn't one bit of royal blood in his body, not to mention he had not true father, so even if Mana was still around to raise him as his own, they were not of the same blood, therefore Allen had no chance of ever coming close to that kingdom.
Furthermore, Allen was considered quite the street rat. No one in the right mind would ever consider stepping anywhere near the deformed, hideous boy.
It all began on a cold, snowy day, much like this one.
Allen had backed himself lazily up against the wall of an ally, right behind a circus that just happened to ride into town recently. He'd pondered heading over there for a few odd jobs, and decided he would consider it after he'd scrounged up another scrap of food, but for now he was far too tired.
The snow wasn't good for a boy's body, who was only of age six. That being said, Allen was practically numb all over, inside and out.
It was right after he'd passed out, that a strange man had approached the poor boy and gathered him up, carrying him off to some foreign place.
That place, being the circus.
It took quite a while to warm up to Mana, but once all was said in done, Mana was all Allen had left.
Mana seemed to look past the boy's foul temper and malnourished health; In fact, he saw nothing but a typical, frozen little boy.
Though it was a bit odd, Mana, the clown, had come to consider Allen, the street rat, his son.
Allen felt the same way, and soon, whenever somebody asked, he simply stated Mana was his father. In fact, he was rather proud that he'd finally found someone who would love him no matter what; A father figure. He cherished the accomplishment up till the very end.
"Allen, look out!"
But it was too late.
Allen let out a shriek as he was thrown down, across the slippery pavement. He was about to scold Mana and give the clown a piece of his mind for fooling around like that, but all plans faltered as soon as he took in the sight before him.
Mana lied down on the concrete, face and body covered in white snow, mixed within a reddish hue.
He knew exactly what it was.
To make matters worse, as he rubbed his teary eyes, he felt a similar, oozing liquid right above his eye. He was bleeding heavily, as was Mana, whose body had already gone limp.
Little Allen screamed and cried and begged for help, he pleaded for someone, anyone to find him before it was too late, for the driver of the carriage to turn his vehicle around and pay for what he's done, for a time machine, anything. He was desperate.
Regardless, there was nothing, nothing that could have been done. He'd known that from the start.
It was, is, and always will be impossible to bring the dead back to life, so why bother trying?
He knew there was a castle not too far off, just a kingdom ahead, that offered to bring stray, fallen souls back to life..but he knew it was a lie. Nothing good came of that kingdom, or their people. They were evil; Sinister. Everyday they tricked more and more innocent people into believing their false truth, and once then, they would never return.
He'd made a promise to Mana, he would never, ever venture to that castle.
He promised he would keep walking.
Exactly a year later, the winter was harsh and the snow was falling dangerously. Allen found himself in a position similar to the one that started it all, and he was slowly losing consciousness. He knew it wouldn't be long now.
The icy weather pierced his skin, sending chills and goosebumps up and down his arms and legs, save for his left, which felt no pain.
He'd never felt any pain within that arm, nothing. He would never bang it, bruise it and feel it, scrape, cut, or damage the skin, and when he did, he never realized it. He felt nothing at all.
The skin didn't look too bad. It was a bit darker than the other, just a little red, but he wasn't missing any fingers so he didn't really look deformed. Mana was kind enough to give him one large mitten to cover his secret, and he hardly ever took it off, so was that why no one wanted him?
Unwanted, unloved, lost, nothing could have compared to the feeling he'd come in contact with that night.
When life had gone from bad to worse, he was just about ready to give up.
That night, he was approached by a few men.
One, two..Three? No, definitely only two, one just happened to be very, very large..
They seemed nice enough. They introduced themselves, shook his hand, and even asked him if he had a place to stay. However, being as rough around the edges as he would possibly allow himself, it didn't take much to reveal their true colors.
Tyki Mikk, and a man who seemed to only go by the name of "Earl" had approached him that night.
"You really have a bad attitude, do you know that?"
"So what?", retorted Allen, "I'm fine with that..It's not like I care."
"I see. so you don't care at all?"
"Not one little bit.."
"You don't care if anything bad were to happen to you?"
The boy was taken aback, "I..I don't know, I..It doesn't matter, what's it to you, anyway?!"
"We were just curious. After all, hurting a boy who wants to be hurt isn't a crime, right? Just like loving a boy that wants to be loved, they're one in the same; Two sides of the same coin."
"Y-You're crazy!", Allen shouted as he ran past the two in an attempt to escape, in vain.
The man, Tyki, had dragged Allen back and roughly held the small boy up against the cold wall, under the Earl's orders. Earl simply sat there, laughing with his crooked smile, playfully spinning an umbrella round and round within his grasp as he watched the tragic event.
It wasn't long after the thrashing and struggling had forced Tyki to pull a knife on the boy, threateningly. Allen tried to comply afterwards, but his will wouldn't let him. His body wouldn't stop; He couldn't stop shaking.
So, after a final warning, Tyki had slit the boy down one side of his face, right above, below, and across the eye earning a vicious, blood curdling scream. As if to torture the poor thing, once he'd hit the maximum the blade would wager against the thick skin, he twisted the knife. Above his eye, he carved a pentacle.
He knew the scar would be jagged and ugly..Weather he would save his eye or not, he didn't know.
Tyki dropped the boy, placing the knife back in the pocket of his belt, and the two men made their way home, hopefully back to hell.
Allen, with nothing else to do, just lied there, snow covering his already numb body.
He'd lost the will to scream.
His body was shaking violently, painful tremors passing through his eye now and then, tears leaking down both faces until he nearly choked.
He figured he was going to die, it was only a matter of time now.
"Mana..", he shakily called a she raised his working hand, "I'm so sorry, Mana..I promised I would keep walking..I didn't mean to die..I hope you forgive me, Mana."
Once then, he blacked out, reaching out for his father, the only man that ever cared.
Who ever said taking care of a child was easy?
No one. Because it wasn't. Anyone who thought so was an absolute, utter moron, who never had to deal with the abomination of a boy before him.
"Panda, Panda, Panda!", cheered the idiot boy, "Panda jiji, play with me!"
The old man sighed, "I don't have time for this, Lavi, we're here on business."
"So?", shrugged the rosette, "We can work and have fun, can't we?"
"No.", he sighed, "You know what we're here for. Now, I brought you with me because you begged and pleaded for something to do. You can't tell me that you only came with me to fool around."
The boy had stopped listening ages ago, it seemed. The little bundle of energy merely responded by running further off, digging himself deeper into the snow only to jump back out and run - and slip - around on concrete.
Defeated, Bookman sighed as he watched and merely kept walking, Lavi in tow.
They kept on walking, repeating the same cycle up until they stumbled upon a rather curious noise.
"What is that, Panda?"
"It sounds almost like a faint whimper..Where it's coming from, I have no idea..and why must you insist on calling me Panda?"
Lavi ignored the man, tuning in on the sound.
"It's coming from over here!", he cried as he ran down the aisle of a nearby dark ally.
"Lavi, don't go-!"
"Bookman, help!"
"What is it?", he asked as he calmly followed the boy.
For once in his life, he gasped as well.
Before them lay the fallen body of a boy who bore a bloody eye, battered body, and pure, white hair that seemed the blend in with the snow.
"Who is this?", asked Lavi, who quickly checked the boy's pulse, "Is he alive? What happened, gramps?!"
"I don't know, Lavi..All I know is that if we don't get some serious medical attention soon, he could very well lose his life..or at the very least, that left eye of his."
Lavi frowned, rubbing the eye patch placed over his own left eye, "You're not gonna let that happen, right?"
The old man sighed, scooping the boy up in his arms, "I'll do what I can..Call for a carriage. Scream at the top of your lungs, do you hear me?"
Lavi nodded, before running out - straight in the middle of the road - and screaming his little heart out.
A man who had almost hit the boy, managed to stop just in time and took immediate heed of the boy, rushing the two off to the castle.
It was a ten minute drive but he sped his horses, pushing both to their maximum limit, cutting the tip down by little more than half.
As soon as Lavi and Bookman (which seemed to be the only name he went by) reached the castle, they thanked the man and sent him off with a hefty amount of gold, quickly as they hadn't bothered to count the coins.
Inside the castle, they immediately rushed to the infirmary where they hooked the boy up to an IV drip, not that it was doing much.
Lavi stuck close to Bookman, allowing the old man to gingerly pat his head as they watched the intense operation. Doctors were pouring in and out of the room from all over the castle, rushing to save his eye.
It took a good six hours, and for the most part, they were successful.
"How did it go?!", called Lavi as the doctors set down their instruments, "Is he gonna be alright?"
One doctor smiled, giving the young prince a wave, "He'll be fine..We saved his eye and there was no internal damage..Whatever it was had only managed to cut the eye lid..We were worried about that for a little while, in fear something were to come of that, but it should be fine. We've sewn it up, disinfected, and bandaged the wound but we're almost positive that he should have a scar for a good portion of his life.."
"Do you know what happened to him?", asked the king, who now stood by the little ones bed.
"Well, we're uncertain, but we know this wasn't any mere accident."
"How so?"
"Well..", he sighed as he carefully lifted the bandage on his forehead, "If you look here, there's a pentacle carved right above his eye. I've never known an accident in the world that could have caused that..Unless star shaped carriage exists?", he chuckled in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.
Lavi wasn't buying it. He tugged on Bookman's sleeve with a fallen face, who exchanged a quick understanding and lifted Lavi to see the wound.
The formerly bubbly boy was stricken with tears as he was let down. Without another word, Lavi ran far out of the room, down the hall, and up to his room (he just happened to share with the king).
Bookman watched the boy leave with a sullied heart.
Who could have possibly been this cruel?
Crap, I'm writing another fanfic..Screwed, I am. Probably gonna be a two-three shot.