[A/N: (Go ahead and skip this if you want xD) Okay, so this is my very first fanfic (officially, cuz I never actually finished my real first one... Oops.) so it probably won't be that great, but oh well.
Um, so if you didn't read the summary or something, this is based off of mothy's Story of Evil (Daughter of Evil, Servant of Evil, etc) sung by Rin and Len. But, as this is genderbent, it features Rinto and Lenka instead of those two. honestly, I love Rinto and Lenka in this way more than I ever liked Rin and Len in it-no offense mothy. But maybe I'm just biased, since it's my story or something, I dunno. xD
So yeah, it's genderbent, though I decided not to genderbend a few of the characters (if you're a fan of the series you'll probably see what I mean farther on) and I also took the liberty of changing a few minor things from mothy's original storyline besides that to suit the story better. And maybe cuz I'm picky too. Whatever.
So yeah. Please give my stupid story a chance, okay? I really hope you enjoy it, cuz I really enjoy(ed) writing it. C: And PLEASE, drop me a review or two or a THOUSAND! I really, really want feedback...
Anyways, on to the story!]
Once upon a time, there was a kingdom by the sea by the name of Lucifenia—or, more commonly, the kingdom of Yellow. It was led by a fair haired king, who ruled justly with the people's best interest in mind. His subjects were prosperous under his rule, and for all his good deeds, he was beloved by them, and well respected by the neighboring nations. The people praised him for the peace he had brought to their nation, raising them out of the ashes of a terrible war only a hundred years earlier. They spoke of a hundred more years of peace that he would bring them, and they all rejoiced. But one day, it all changed.
Their king was suddenly taken ill with an unknown illness and died soon after, leaving the kingdom reeling in shock. Who would take his place? they asked each other frantically. Who now would bring them the peace they so longed for? The people wept profusely at their deceased ruler's funeral, and for many days after, but their mourning soon ceased as word came about of their new ruler. It was to be the king's only son, a boy of just fourteen years.
Many of the townsfolk marveled at the likeness to his father he bore when they first laid eyes on him; he had the same pale hair, the same icy blue eyes, the same unnaturally intelligent air about him. The peace they had been brought by his father would last a hundred more years, they said. The mirage of their former ruler only served to blind them from the truth, though. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late.
Unlike his father, their new monarch was harsh and demanding. Where many thought he would be indecisive and easily swayed, he turned out to be just the opposite. His punishments were severe, even for the most minor of infractions: anyone who defied him was mercilessly executed. He ruled the people with an iron fist, leaving them terrified of what he might do next. He was extremely intelligent for a boy of his age, and knew how to get exactly what he wanted, even at the expense of the people he ruled. Behind his deceptively charming looks was a sinister cruelty, the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. "The Rose" was what they began to call him: his beauty only ran skin deep, and beneath it there was nothing more than ugly thorns and a sadistic cruelty. He crushed everyone who opposed him with ruthless indifference. At first glance, one might not have thought he was capable of such things—he had a slight, almost dainty build, befitting of one of royal descent—but his victims knew better.
Even the other nations began to fear him. The larger ones, such as the kingdoms of Blue and Green, cut off relations with him altogether, while others, such as Red, tried to avoid being sucked into his trap whilst maintaining somewhat friendly relations with him. Needless to say, they soon had the evil kingdom's yellow flag flying from their walls, with matching soldiers patrolling their streets. The whole while, the boy merely laughed at the people's misfortunes from the comfort of his lavish palace. It was nothing more than a game to him, and the people he controlled were his pawns to carry out whatever he desired. Ultimately, despite his careful planning and strategizing, he was blinded by his ambitions and ruled by his emotions and greed, and these would soon bring about his downfall.
His demise may have come much sooner had it not been for one girl. Born a servant and trained as a warrior, she was the fiercest fighter in the kingdom and soon rose to the position of commander of the Lucifian Royal Guard. She answered only to the king, acting as his advisor, maid, and confidant. Some claimed she bore an uncanny resemblance to him, but the theory was quickly dismissed. She left his side only under his orders, and carried out his wished with unwavering loyalty. She seemed to be the only person he was able to trust, the only person he felt wouldn't betray him. She was likened as his shadow by some, and others called her the Rose's Maiden, his counterpart and cohort in his crimes. By her, the young king was able to do as he wished without opposition.
Would it all be worth it for him in the end? the people often wondered. How long would his reign last unchallenged? Though they all wondered these things, none of them were brave enough to take action against the child. And so, his rule of tyranny ran on, unbroken and unopposed by all but the very bravest of them all, deep within the most secret places of their hearts.
"So, shall we begin?"
The large study echoed with the ticking of a large grandfather clock, interspersed with the shuffling of papers from a desk nearby. A few well-dressed figures hurried around the room with these sheets of parchment, each speaking in urgent whispers while occasionally glancing back at the figure positioned by the window. The boy in question was glaring outside, his fingers drumming a quiet pattern against the cool glass. The casual observer may have noted that he was short for his age, a trait typical of his family line. His fair hair, neatly trimmed, brushed against the nape of his neck as the wind lifted it, and his bright eyes gleamed calculatingly as he gazed down at the townspeople hurrying about below him. His already tense shoulders stiffened all the more as fierce arguing erupted behind him; evidently, the other men had abandoned all attempts of remaining silent, against his wishes.
As the noise reached its climax, he spun around to face them, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Enough!" he roared. Though his voice was still that of a child's, it held an authority unlike that of anyone else his age. Even so, they didn't seem to hear him; if anything they only seemed to grow louder. With a grunt of frustration, he spun towards a solitary figure that stood by the wall a few feet away. Long, fair hair hung over her shoulders in waves, fastened securely behind her head with a thin leather band. The simple dress she wore was adorned only with a light covering of chainmail—it was in no way something a normal girl of the kingdom might wear. Of course, she was not a normal girl. Hanging at her side was a long, black leather scabbard, and sheathed within it was a long sword of the same color, its handle molded with a carving of a rose. At a word from the boy, she strode over to the small cluster of men on the far side of the room, her gaze fixated on the one standing in its center. Leo Knox, the general of the Guard; he led the others crowded around him, and answered only to the king and, as it happened, the girl herself.
The others parted like water as she approached—none of them wanted to bear the punishment that their leader was undoubtedly about to face. The man himself barely had time to look up before the point of her blade was at his throat, swung into place with a single, graceful flick of her wrist. The look in her eyes as she glared up at him was cold, unyielding, yet held a bit of a bored air in it as well. Such a look from such a young girl was terrifying, to say the least. The group fell silent as they stared at the dark metal gleaming in the bright sunlight. The man gulped as he stared down the blade at the maiden, but her gaze never wavered, even as the boy behind her began to speak.
"I believe this meeting has long since been dismissed," he stated firmly. His tone was deceptively calm, in spite of the stormy look that shrouded his features. "Wouldn't you say so, gentlemen?"
"But your highness..!" one of them quickly spoke up, notably not the one with the sword pointed at his neck. "We have yet to reach a decision concerning—"
"Is that so? I believe we have, in fact." The leather soles of the boy's shoes were eerily silent as he made his way across the slate flooring. "I have already informed you all that we will not be launching a counterattack against the Red kingdom. I am your king, need I remind you; my decision is final. You have no say in how I govern my kingdom, and therefore, this meeting is pointless."
The room echoed with silence as they stared at him, mouths hanging open in wordless confusion. Taking it as their agreement, he nodded once, a small smirk growing on his lips. "Good." He nodded again, this time at the slight girl among them, who instantly lowered her sword. "Alena, would you kindly see them out?"
The room rand with their protests as the girl ushered them out, her sword held threateningly before her. Soon, all but Knox had gone. He stood just outside the doorway, his face contorted into a furious grin. "You'll regret your decision soon enough, highness," he sneered as Alena slammed the door in his face.
As soon as the man had disappeared from sight, the boy sighed and collapsed into the chair behind his desk, his long blonde bangs falling across his closed eyelids. Alena sheathed her sword and joined him, and there they sat in silence as the maiden looked through the papers the men had left behind. "Those insolent fools," he muttered after a long moment. "I should have the lot of them executed."
"They are right, you know," the girl stated earnestly, slapping a stack of the papers in front of him. "According to these, our sources have found that the kingdom of Red is planning to launch an invasion on—"
"Our sources are rarely reliable, and you know it." The boy did not even bother to open his eyes. "What more could they hope to do to us? We have already taken them over, haven't we? They have nothing left." He sighed in frustration and sat up. "Oh, whatever. Let those pitiful wretches try to usurp my throne. I'll crush them like the worms they are." A delighted smile lit his face as he looked up at the maiden. "Or, rather, you will crush them for me. Isn't that right, Alena?"
The blonde inclined her head slowly, her eyes remaining fixed on his own in a way that might have gotten any other servant executed on the spot. "As you wish, Reiniel."
The boy held her gaze for a moment before giving her a small, satisfied nod. "Good. Now then, about that sorry lot of—"
He was cut off as a small girl burst through the large oak doors across the room. It was a maid, one of many in the palace—but this particular maid, who went by the name of Chartette, happened to be the clumsiest of them all. "Your—your highness..!" she squeaked, her large red pigtails flying as she hurriedly bowed. "Derron Hendrick requests an audience with you, posthaste. He says it is of the utmost importance!"
Reiniel sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly. "Everything that braggart does is supposedly important… All right, bring him in, then…"
"Y—yes, your highness!" The girl gave another clumsy bow before stumbling out of the room; moments later, she returned, followed closely by two new figures. The first was recognizably the aforementioned Hendrick. Tall, with a slight build and haughty expression, he was one of the few knights of the kingdom who was completely loyal to the king. He held himself proudly as he entered the room, pushing another man before him. the male was considerably less well off; ragged and worn clothing hung from his lanky frame, spotted her and there with dried blood. His face was smeared with the red substance too, clumping in his hairline where a not entirely obvious wound scored the skin just below his hairline. He was a peasant, and a significantly impoverished one at that. His head hung low as he was shoved into the room; with a swift kick from behind, he fell to his knees on the stone floor, crying out in pain on impact. With a frightened squeal, the maid quickly darted away, slamming the doors shut behind her.
"What seems to be the trouble, Hendrick?" Reiniel was all business again; his back was ramrod straight against his chair, and his hands were clasped neatly on the desk before him, leaving no trace of his former mood behind. A detached smile had settled on his lips—Alena recognized it as the expression he wore for surprise, but not entirely welcome visitors. It took a tremendous amount of effort to elicit even the smallest genuine smile from the boy, she knew, and even those were few and far between.
"My king!" the knight began quickly. "My men and I—well, I suppose it was mostly me, as they were not entirely present—captured this little rebel trying to coerce a crowd into an armed revolt against your majesty. It is treason of the highest order, as you well know. I suggest the death penalty for him, and request your permission to order it."
"Permission granted," the boy sighed. "A pity, though, that this pathetic little "revolution" was not put into action sooner. I should have liked to see a large public execution… There hasn't been one since before Father's death." After a small, thoughtful pause, he waved a hand at the two in dismissal. "Have him executed at noon tomorrow," he ordered as Hendrick turned to leave, pulling his charge along behind him, "on the guillotine. The guillotine executions are always the best." His last statement was accompanied by a sickening smirk, a look that made the knight across the room visibly flinch.
All of a sudden, the peasant man launched himself to his feet, his bound hands scrabbling painfully against the grey slate beneath him as he struggled to rise. "Your highness, please rethink your judgment!" he yelled. "I did nothing wrong! I only told my brothers and sisters of what was true and just! A world that existed far before your birth, when we held the freedom to do as we desired without fearing for our lives, and when our king was just and kind—"
"Silence!" The fair haired boy had leapt to his feet, amid the clatter of his overturned chair. "I will not tolerate this insurrection! Hendrick, take him away—"
"I remember the days before these cursed taxes!" The man's voice had risen to a mad wail. "Before the suffering of our people, before the war and bloodshed—"
"Shut him up, for god's sake!" Reiniel shouted to no one in particular. When neither of the other two moved to respond to his request, he furiously stalked towards the speechless knight. Yanking the man's sword from its scabbard, he swung the blade back, stumbling under its massive weight as it gradually pulled him backwards. Within moments, Alena was at his side; pulling her own sword from its pace at her side, she drew it back—in a much more skilled replication of the king's attempt—and drove it home in the man's chest. His mouth opened in a silent 'O' as the words ceased to flow from his mouth; then, slowly, he toppled forward as Alena calmly yanked her sword out of his corpse.
The room was completely silent for a moment, broken finally by the sound of Hendrick's sword clattering to the ground as the boy dropped it. "A pity there won't be an execution on the morrow after all," he sighed melodramatically, as if nothing had happened. "I was so looking forward to it." The knight gaped at him in unconcealed shock, looking first from one blonde to the other. The maiden knelt silently beside the dead corpse to clean her sword, while Reiniel strode back to his desk. He glanced behind him a moment later, almost as if he was surprised to see the knight still standing there. "You are dismissed, Hendrick," he intoned, none to gently. The man hesitated for only a second before starting for the door, but Reiniel's voice stopped him midstep. "Oh, and Hendrick? Have someone come clean up this mess, will you?" Hurriedly, the knight nodded and exited the room, nearly running into the red-haired maid in his haste to leave.
"E-excuse me, sir!" she gasped as she stumbled backwards into the room, a tray precariously balanced on her outstretched hand. Quickly, she wheeled to face the inhabitants of the room and, studiously avoiding the corpse at her feet, announced, "T-tea, your highness!"
"Oh, it's tea time." The boy looked pleased as he spoke the familiar phrase. He quickly beckoned for the girl, who tripped her way across the floor to set the tray on his desk. As she attempted to bow while holding the tray, Alena finished her task and quietly stood, making her way once again to Reiniel's side. Relieving the maid of her tray, she set it on the desk as she had intended to do and sat in a chair beside the king. With a mournful look, the redhead bowed again and hurried from the room, nearly tripping into the sticky pool of blood that now surrounded the dead body at the door.
When she had gone, Reiniel slowly picked up one of the delicate white teacups from the silver tray and sat contemplating it as Alena poured the tea. "Earl Grey," he mused softly as the dense aroma rose from his cup in a cloud of steam. "Father used to drink this, didn't he?" When he received no response, he shrugged. "No wonder Father was such a fool of a man. He was content with only a miniscule patch of land, a race of numbskulls to lead, and cups of dishwater every morning. Such is the recipe for disaster, and such was his reward. I will not be made a fool by following in his footsteps." With that, he unceremoniously dumped the tea back into the pot and sat back in his seat. After a long moment, he cast a sidelong glance at the blonde beside him, who sat staring into her teacup with a guarded expression. "Don't you believe me, Alena?"
The girl was silent for a time, but slowly, without looking up at him, she spoke her reply, each word uttered carefully. "I fear…it may already be too late…"