Disclaimer: I don't own D Gray Man or any of its characters.

Musings Of Queens

This was not my child.

That was the first thing I said when I first saw it.

One arm dangled revealingly from the safety of its blanket. I almost screamed at the sight. From the tips of its ugly nails to a little past its crooked bump of an elbow, its arm was horribly deformed and grotesque, its appearance less than a human and more of a monster. It was a burnt scarlet, the color of rusty blood. I could have sworn that I saw an emblem of a cross embedded onto the back of its ugly hand.

The doctors do not know why this has happened. They fruitlessly ran back and forth, shouting at each other, asking me questions, examining it closely and carefully, not knowing what else to do. Finally, they told me that other than that hideous arm, the baby was perfectly healthy.

What baby? I wanted to yell at them. This - this abomination could not be my baby.

Voices of my husband and family called from the outside, wondering why they were not allowed in, despite hearing the loud bawls of a wailing baby, demanding to enter and see the new mother and child.

It would be better if they never saw it. Or even better, if that thing was never born.

I could see round, chubby cheeks, begging for me to touch its creamy softness. Tiny fingers, barely the width of my pinkie finger, reached for me, blindly grasping the air. A little whine escaped past its pink lips, revealing a slobbery thing that was a tongue. A messy mop of brown hair, a reflection of my own, poked out from the fuzzy blue blanket. Its gray eyes gazed up at me, not understanding the conflicting emotions that cleaved my heart in two.

I hated this child.

I loved this child.

And I never wanted to see it again.

Whether I realized it myself or not, I felt something stirred in my chest the moment I saw Allen Walker.

He was just a boy, a human like me. Young. Curious. Bright. Naive. Trying to find his place in the world. Walking down the path he has chosen with his own hands. Losing the little bit of innocence that he had once possessed along the way.

I cannot explain it but no matter where, no matter the situation, no matter the circumstances, I always felt safe by his side. When I was weak and indecisive, he helped me stand and fight my fears away. When all seemed hopeless, he would appear and call upon the sun to shine again. When I needed help and it seemed that no one heard, he came swooping down into the darkness to grab my hand and pulled me back up into the world of light.

There were those times when we fought together, side by side, back to back. My Dark Boots and his Crown Clown. I would never forget the exhilaration being so close to him, in this spinning, untamed, reckless dance between the two of us.

He always did remain strong. He did not waver from his path, even if he did doubt. He wanted to remain strong for the others, still cheerfully smiling when he knew that he caused pain to others and to himself. Even when many questioned where his loyalties laid once we found out that Allen would one day become the Fourteenth Noah, Allen continued on, head raised high, ignoring their hushed whispers and skeptical stares.

I find myself admiring him for his noble spirit and courage. Allen was the kind of person who would go through hell and back to help people who would gladly curse and hate him. It made me angry that Allen could be so kind to those who do not deserve his forgiveness.

Allen ... Allen was the shining white knight on the chessboard. He wanted to save everyone and sacrifice himself for them, whether human or Akuma. He was willing to go such far lengths to protect them all. He would gladly lose an arm, a leg, even his soul, to save them. Whether or not he should, that is another story.

Sometimes, I wonder why it is always the kind-hearted who suffer the most.

He was only a child compared to me.

Me, who has lived for five hundred years, a doll created for the entertainment of humans and their love for music. I was only created to sing and dance, to relish the laughter and joy of humans, my masters. I had no other purpose. So what shall I do when that purpose was taken away from me?

For five hundred years, I wandered listlessly and lifelessly. There was no one here anymore, in the once great city of Martel. Everything is left in ruins. Buildings crumbling to dust. Trees blackened and dead. Bones reduced to ash and soot. No animal dared to come, so the city is deathly silent. No one comes here anymore. I am alone. Always alone.

When Guzoru, the only one who ever accepted me for who I was and not for what I was, was dying, I knew it would be my time soon. I'd rather have his hand be the one that breaks me than live for another five hundred years alone.

But would this human listen? For as long as I can remember, humans never listened to me. They always screamed and run away, knocking me down as they did. They never listen to anyone but themselves. But what else could I do but beg? Would he listen then?

He has to. Surely he would understand. Guzoru himself have proven that not all humans are foolish and ignorant. Though the chances are small, I must try. For Guzoru's sake.

Please, listen to me, human. Don't separate us until then. Let me be with him till the end. I will willingly give my heart to you then.

And he did listen.

Even though we were all in grave danger, he smiled and promised that he won't take my heart until then. Even though the other human insisted that they take my heart now and there, he argued and defended me. Even though Guzoru was dead and I was no longer Lala, he let me be, letting me sing to my heart's content, to fulfill my purpose until my very end.

When I finally broke, splintering and decaying into his arms, I was happy. Happy that I was able to meet two wonderful, wonderful humans.

The first time I saw him, I knew he was something special.

October 9th had repeated for thirty times. And I was the only one who knew. It was enough to drive anyone insane. Which makes me wonder exactly how sane I am.

On this particularly October 9th, I was supposed to get splashed by muddy water from a carriage and then, I would go home and sleep. Same as the other thirty October 9ths. Instead, a monster attacked me and when I believed I would die, thus saving me from this ravening time loop, that was when he appeared.

At first, I believed it was all a dream. That my mind was playing tricks on me and that I was truly going mad. But the very next October 9th, I saw him walking down the street, a stark black against the greyness of the crowd.

The me of the past would not have bothered following this stranger. This miraculous stranger who rescued me the day before. But at the moment, he was my only proof of an outside connection. And so, I followed. Walking straight into a world that I never believed existed.

He never condemned me for my clumsiness or unluckiness. He was always kind, helping me stand and pushing me forward. When I was fired for the fifth time in less than three days, he never once criticized me. Instead, he encouraged me to try again and he searched twice as hard for another job for me. Even as we were trapped in the freakishly fantastical room, death certainly awaiting us, and the Akuma relentlessly attacked us, he threw himself to shield me, taking the full brunt of the attacks.

And he smiled. As if it was nothing. But his injuries were getting the better of him. He could barely move. He was barely conscious. I held him close to me, watching fearfully as the Akuma approached us, grinning maniacally. We were going to die. Who could fight against those monsters, if even he could not? Was I really willing to let Allen die, after all that he has done for me?

No. I don't want him to die. And I don't want to die either. I want to live!

The clock, my Innocence, heard my resolve and at last, activated. As if knowing my thoughts, the Innocence immediately reversed all the damage and wounds he had received, taking them all away. He stood, ready to fight again. My fists uselessly clenched in my lap. Was this all that I could do for him?

Sensing my guilt, he turned towards me and smiled, thanking me before he left, returning to battle.

I sat, stunned. Thank you, he had said. He thanked me. The first person to ever do so.

Whoever had said that words were powerless and worthless, was wrong. Those words strengthened me, spurring me to act, to do something, rather than just sit around and do nothing. I don't want to be useless anymore. I wanted to fight.

Allen saved me before.

So I wanted to be the one to save him this time.

What a wonderful playmate he would make, I decided.

Allen Walker. The boy who the Millennium Earl could not kill.

He was rather entertaining, I must say. Like a new toy, I was overjoyed that I got a hold of him first. I experimented with him, fiddling with him, testing his limits. I pushed and pulled, yanked and ripped, strangled and maimed. I wanted to break him, see if that's all that really is to him. It wouldn't be any fun if he just flopped around like a dying fish without any fight. I wanted to know if he was really worth my attention.

To my great amusement, he stood back up. Not only that, he dared to point his Innocence at me. Even if he didn't pull the trigger, I was rather impressed. Allen Walker was indeed worth all my attention.

I do not know when did this strange obsession of Allen began. But since it was already in place, I didn't want it to stop. It burned within me, like a flame, growing and growing, not dwindling, not dying. It was unhealthy. It was sinful. It was forbidden.

And it never felt more right.

I grew hungry for this human to near extreme heights. I made the mistake of taking a sample of him and now, he was all I craved. No cuisine could not sustain me. No feast could exhilarate me. No dessert could hope to compare to the sweet, sweet flavor of Allen's mouth. No one else had yet to taste the delicacy that was Allen's soft lips, smooth, flawless and completely perfect. I held the honor of being the one to claim them first.

Was this infatuation good? Was this addiction bad? Was I only attracted to him because Allen contained the Fourteenth's memories? Was it because he was one of us? Or was it more?

Even if it was luscious, even if it was wrong, I cannot help myself.

He was something beautiful.

Something magnificent.

Something breakable.

Exorcist.

The word left a bitter taste in my mouth.

It was only natural. For he was my sworn enemy and I was designed to kill him and his kind. But this resentment of mine had nothing to do with me being an Akuma.

At first, he and his comrade had only came to defeat Arystar. That was fine by me. No one could defeat Arystar. He was near invincible. They wouldn't be able to win anyways. Then, their objection changed, once they found out what Arystar could become.

An Exorcist. Like them.

The very thought of Arystar becoming an Exorcist nearly made me throw up. How dare he suggested such a thing to my beloved?!

Why did he had to come? We lived happily and no one dared to disrupt it. Why must he come and ruin our happy, perfect lives? Even if it was all just a happy, perfect lie.

I knew what Arystar would eventually become. Within him, he carried an Innocence, sharp and deadly, aching to sink themselves into me and destroy me. He was destined to be an Exorcist and fight me. And once he did, I would be forced to kill him.

I did not care if I had to erase an entire village to conceal this little secret. I would gladly kill the Exorcist to do it. I would hang his rotting body up by the castle gates to ensure that no one else disturbed Arystar and me. What is a few lives to the love that was shared between Arystar and I?

He was the only one who admired me more than just my beauty. The only one who was ever kind to me. The only who truly cared for me. Despite being nothing but a weapon and a tool for the Millennium Earl, Arystar loved me.

It may not mean much to a human, but for me, an unfeeling, heartless machine, it meant the whole world to me.

And I will not let this Exorcist take it away from me.

For a minute, I could have sworn that I was looking at Cross and not Allen Walker.

In terms of appearance and character, they looked and acted little alike. Cross had crimson hair, bright and vibrant as the setting sun. Allen, on the other hand, had hair soft and unsullied, like snow on winter's first night. The General always carried with him an air of arrogance and power, walking with confidence, smirking at those below him. I supposed that the best way to describe Allen was that he flowed, mingling and mixing with others, gentle and free, happy to bring along anyone for the ride. Cross was an adult, wise beyond his years, though not always mature. Allen was a child, a little bird that has just flown out of its nest, yet already dragged to the front lines of this war.

But what was it, that I saw in Allen? That related so much to his master?

It must have been his eyes. There was that same burning ambition in both of their eyes, that aching desire for something unattainable, something beyond their reach. They find themselves wanting and waiting. For what? I wondered.

Amusingly enough, Allen never spoke kindly of Cross, muttering of debts and long, lonely nights of working off those debts. He either leaped into a turbulent fury or sank into a crushing depression at the sound of his master's name. Cross himself was no better. During the days he spent at the brothel, he would occasionally rant about his useless student and how his student was a clumsy, worthless tag-along. He never referred to his student other than his 'idiot apprentice', seemingly always dissatisfied or disapproving of him.

And yet, there was a grudgingly mutual respect between them both. Cross might belittle and scorn his pupil, but then again, Cross wasn't someone to talk about anyone else, other than himself. It might have been his own way of showing affection. Allen refused to believe that Cross was dead, standing firmly on his belief. He believed strongly in his master's strength, even when I didn't.

Seeing his determination made me act. We had long supported the Order from the darkness of shadows, mostly hidden and secret. But now, we stepped out into the light for the first time.

Cross was someone important to me, someone who I would live and die for.

Perhaps Allen too has become my important someone as well.

Another brat, I noted without much interest.

I had seen brats like this one. Exorcists, finders and people of the Black Order come and go from this place. It was nothing new to me, seeing how long I have lived.

But everyone else was ecstatic. They wanted to see the Exorcist for the first time. Our only hope for victory in this war. Our last defense against the armies of the Millennium Earl. I felt a smug pride that I was the one who saw him first, that I was the one who carried him here, that I was the one who kept watch over him as he slept.

Still, I did not see what was so special about him. He was an Exorcist, who had lost his weapon. If anything, he had become a common human again. There was no reason to set aside this particular human from the rest.

He looked rather pitiful, all bandaged up like that. At the moment, he didn't look like our only hope or our last defense. He was just a kid, who looked like he should be in school or something. Just anywhere but here.

In order to help him retrieve his Innocence, Bak volunteered me to put him into a life-or-death situation, the best possible condition for an Exorcist to fight with his Innocence. I gladly accepted. Let me fight with the boy. Let me show him that he is nothing but a brat.

As days passed, I found myself electing a new opinion about this particular brat. It might have been his abnormally strange features, even for an Exorcist. I had never seen hair as white as his, bleached of pure snow and silk linen. Or his scarred eye, cursed by an Akuma, making him something of a half-monster. It could have been his earnest determination, how he struggled vainly to regain his Innocence, to fight for his friends. It amazed her that he was able to match me skill for skill, move for move, despite still recovering from his previous injuries and missing one arm. It may have been his kindness, how he wholly devoted himself to saving both Akuma and humans, being shared between two worlds.

Whatever it was, this was a human who truly fascinated me.

I could barely breath at our first meeting.

It was like a dream come true. It was as if Prince Charming had leaped straight out of the books I had read when I was a little girl.

His name was Allen Walker, an injured Exorcist who sought rest and recovery from his last battle. He was the Exorcist that I had heard all about and wanted to meet. Allen Walker. I ran his name over my tongue, muffling a giggle as the words tickled over my teeth. It was a nice name.

I could hardly look at him, let alone speak to him, without a blush tainting my cheeks. He was everything I could possibly hope for. Not only was he impossibly handsome, he was also kind and gentle, always friendly with anyone.

My heart thumped hard as I sneaked in to see Allen fight against Fou. This would be my first time ever witnessing an Exorcist fight. And I was not disappointed. I never saw anyone move that fast before. Their forms were blurred and indistinct, so much that it hurt to look at them. It was such an ethereal dance, deadly, fast and breathtaking.

Being occupied with reactivating his Innocence, I don't get a chance to speak to him other than at meals. And boy, can he eat. I could barely see the tips of his white hair sometimes, him being surrounded by heaps of dirty bowls and plates. Any kind of food was delicious to Allen, no matter what. I overheard Bak commenting how parasite type Exorcists need to sustain their energy by consuming much more enormous amounts of food than others. It came as a surprise to the others that I suddenly started reading cook books.

The tales he told us were captivating and exciting. He recounted battles fought in the past, triumphant victories and near defeats. He spoke about the Headquarters, the place where all us juniors hope to one day go to and work there. He mentioned other Exorcists, such as a grumpy, arrogant samurai, a red-haired, teasing trickster and a kind, gentle girl, all whom were very close to him.

However, there were certain things he avoided or refused to answer. Things like why he became an Exorcist, how he became one or his life before becoming an Exorcist. I could understand. Some things are better left unsaid.

But one thing I noticed about him was his smiles; they never quite reached his eyes. They were too distant, sad and almost fake. At times, they seemed forced and automatic, as if he was conditioned to smile. It became difficult to tell whether he was genuinely smiling or not.

Which is why I decided to work harder. For Allen. Exorcists have it much harder than the rest of us. They put their lives at stake and fight with their blood, sweat and tears, until their bodies break and perish. It wasn't fair that they had to give up so much and receive so little back.

So I dedicated myself to put ten times the effort into doing whatever I can to support Allen. He may not notice it. He may not realize it. But I will be satisfied.

Because I wanted to see his real smile, the real him, someday.

Never had anyone enraged me more than Allen Walker.

I had promised the Millennium Earl I would complete my mission to fetch the stolen egg. I will make the Earl proud of me. Unlike my other siblings, who seemed to have a string of defeats and failures lately.

From the moment I invaded the Headquarters, everything went according to plan. In fact, there were certain things that came along unexpectedly. I had anticipated to face against some Exorcists, maybe even a General, but none were there. All the more better for me to get my job done faster.

How boring, I yawned, dully watching as these weak humans were helplessly dragged into rows, like an execution. Even when the boy arrived in a similar fashion to the way 'heroes' do, I did not have to worry. They were no match against my tremendous numbers of Akuma. They were soon overwhelmed and crushed. Good for me. I don't have to worry about getting my newly manicured nails or my new jacket stained with the filth of an Exorcist.

It would be over soon and the egg was ready to go through the gate. I decided to bring the boy with me. An additional bonus for the Earl. I could feel my smile widening at the thought of presenting the predecessor of the Fourteenth's memories to the Earl.

My plans were set back slightly when the Generals and the other Exorcists dropped in. I was still not overly distressed. I overheard them speaking about the female Exorcist's Innocence, how it cannot stop the descent of the egg. Why not speed up the process, hmm?

So I attacked, choosing a form that I knew that would be most difficult to defeat. Even against three of the Generals, they posed no serious threat to me. They dared not harm the girl trapped within my watery prison. My escape was certain and I was already through the gate. The egg may be damaged, but the Earl could patch it up quite easily. I smirked. This was my victory.

That was when I noticed a giant speck of white attached to the side of the egg, growing in size, splintering the egg as it grew. By the time I realized what it was, it was too late. Allen Walker had destroyed the egg. Just like that. And as if to mock me, he also rescued that girl too.

All my efforts. All my hard work. Gone.

I screamed out his name in a murderous rage that I have not experienced in a long time. Because of him, I failed. Curse him. Curse that miserable whelp! Curse him to death!

I wanted to rip him from limb to limb. I wanted to spit in his face and laugh. I wanted to kill all his precious friends, just to see the anguish look on his face.

But most of all, I wanted him dead.