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A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction

"Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings"

By Bloody Priestess


Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters… And meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiragizawa in her self-imposed exile to Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces…

Disclaimer: I don't speak French, all the phrases used in this chapter (and later chapter) is care of Yahoo! Babel.

AN: The French phrase/sentences(s) will be italized and the translation will follow soon after, will be in bold. Example:Bonjour! Hello! Any corrections in this area will be most appreciated! Thank you!

Here is—

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Chapter Three: Splendid Isolation

Isolation. That's what she thought she needed.

Isolation. That's what she thought she had.

Isolation. That's what she thought she was getting...

...apparently not.


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"Though the hotel where I'm staying reminded me of a fellow student in Paris' Académie de Beaux-arts et Dessiner (transl. School of Fine Arts and Design), whose country house was no less a château (!) in the south of France, it is a beauty in its own right."

She wrote… thoughtlessly as she lay on her stomach on the double sized bed of her "deluxe" hotel room.

The Paris' Académie de Beaux-arts et Dessiner (commonly referred as Académie by her students) is a private, independent, accredited, nonsectarian, fashion and fine arts university in Paris, France. Founded in 1936, the university is the oldest Fine Arts and Design institution of higher education in France. The Académie campus consists of nine buildings, centrally located in the seventh arrondissement of Paris, on the Left Bank near the Eiffel Tower, Les Invalides, and the Seine.

The Académie's language of instruction is English, although students must prove a level of proficiency in French prior to graduation The Académie has approximately one thousand students, representing over a hundred nationalities, with an average student-to-faculty ratio of eighteen to one. The Académie's faculty members represent over fifteen nationalities, with eighty percent holding doctoral degrees. The Académie sponsors more than two hundred lectures and seminars every year, exposing students to a wide range of topics all relating to Fine Arts and Design.

"The entire exterior of the structure was of whitewashed stonewalls with the vivid green of an elegantly creeping vine and its entrance set with lofty white marble pillars, and contrasting to the gray and onyx black mosaic driveway—lined with a colorful array of potted familiar and exotic blooms…"

Tomoyo described… on and on… shoving the "BORING!" and unflattering whines to the back of her mind… and described on…

"Behind it, there was a tennis court, a swimming pool divided by a half-submerged pavilion that cradled a wet bar (and when I say WET bar, I really mean W-E-T. OKAY, you prevs, that's enough. What I mean is, the bar is partly submerged in the middle of the pool) and true to its name—Flowers—red, white, pink, yellow and every color in between and more! Trees and shrubs—tall, short, disheveled, trimmed and everything in between and more! Wherever one turns, there was a beautiful landscaped "park" to behold."

"The hotel's interior—a fusion of the elegance of late Regency/early Victorian mansion and the simple exquisiteness of a garden. The lobby's ceiling soared over 2-stories, connecting the upper and lower half and had a fresco of an old East India Map and."

She could practically hear the bodies of those reading this blog entry dying of boredom… Once again, she shrugged the thought aside… and wrote...

"The lobby level was in crème marble floor—accented with elaborate carpet in burgundy and gold where the settees done in rich burgundy and gold reminiscing 19th century styled brocade was, and coffee tables and side tables were of carved mahogany and topped with crème marble. And the walls were adorned with a vertical 18x10 ft. painting of a scene that illustrates the old port that was Singapore, a horizontal 10x18 ft. painting of a Chinese junk at sea with its red 'sails' against orange, pink, purple and dark blue hues of a late sunset…"

Tomoyo sighed, after rereading what she wrote and let out a little sardonic laugh.

Sitting a tad bit straighter, her shoulders set in a no-nonsense angle as her fingers whizzed along the keyboards pads...

Yes, my dear reader. I am rambling. Shying away from what I truly want to write and share with you. Tucking a stray lock hair behind her left ear with one hand, the other hand typed… As you can see from the VERY detailed description of my surroundings, I sure sound like a darn (pardon the cuss) hotel travel guide.

I guess I'm pretty boooooooooooored—of course, as a habit I get up extra early to jog around the block of my hotel, I have toured the entire hotel, inside and out—TRICE (with an exception of the parking lot—I'm not THAT desperate! inserts a smiley face) since I came here a week and a half ago.

Perhaps I should take my frequent BLOG visitor and dear, dear cousin's comment and "get out"!

Sakura told me—End this hiding out! Send notice of my whereabouts to her (plus the latest dish about my life as a fugitive—ha! And the status of my dress designs for my collection) and my mom (and tell her that I'm still WHOLE and alive).

Oh dear me! Despite the fact that I've indulge my whims and opted for this chance to coolly assess my situation and situation I am about to face~ I cannot help but feel terribly guilty!

I haven't spared a moments thought about designing! You see, upon arriving from my connecting flights from Paris to India (just to refuel) to Japan, mom practically blurted out my "fiancéed" status.

Well, if you call into mind a previous entry of mine you could tell that I snapped out some denial-ish thoughts regarding my "shying away". Now, that I think about it perhaps the whole 'snapping business' was a result of jetlag, irritability due-to-the-lack-of-sleep and the infuriation of traveling non-stop...

Tomoyo paused, and considered it for a moment. Yes, she would have to tell her mom. Sighing, she decided to e-mail her mom, not to disclose her whereabouts but to tell her of her safe arrival and secure residence in a respectable hotel… And then, e-mail Sakura… but what to tell her EXACTLY…?

The computer screen's glare caught her attention, the I-beam blinked in its sedentary state on the last word of her entry… After I finish this, she promised.

"And to think, fashion is all have that truly mine." She wrote, after a little bittersweet laugh. "Yes, I believe I can safely guess what you're thinking. 'What about the money, Miss Heiress?' True, I do have money—but that's my FAMILY'S money. Of my own? I have nothing, absolutely nothing but …fashion. The fashion I will create... the something that comes from me and me alone."

Fashion, that won't create itself.

The Daidouji heiress realized that she had unconsciously shoved her dilemmas in the farthest corner of her mind. And by deferring to answer questions and ponder different course of action and their possible outcomes—she wasted precious time! Here she was sitting around her room, and occasionally in the hotel's buffet table for breakfast or lunch or dinner—acting like nothing was wrong and that the world would stop spinning; people cease what they were doing just because she hadn't done a thing worthwhile.

"That's a selfish and childish inference, Tomoyo." She said aloud.

Sakura Kinomoto commented on her BLOG—that a dear schoolmate of hers, the Singaporean (Half Indian, half English) Anamosa Milton was set to finally come out this season with her fall collection. To become a top Fashion designer was also Ana's dream …and here was Miss Milton taking the bull by the horns unlike someone she knew.

Herself.

Tomoyo considered the thought—she assumed the worst case scenario, where her husband-to-be is a chauvinistic caveman—who would not allow her to do anything on her own… Thus thoroughly ending her dreams. If she did not move now, then there was no other time to do so.

That was the kick Tomoyo needed. With renewed spirits, she flipped her laptop open and added, "This can't be the end of my dreams. There has to be another way. I must find that other way."

SAVE BLOG ENTRY? YES.

And Tomoyo began writing an e-mail for her mom and another one to Sakura. She minimized her e-mail account window and was once again confronted by what her lovely cousin wrote. "I won't find that way by sitting around here." Tomoyo said, eying the deluxe-type room she occupied with a little frown.

Sakura wrote: "Sometimes, we dream of reaching what we really desire but life isn't like that… We don't get everything we want but in the end, we can realize that we deserve better than we dream."

Can you let go of a dream, my dear Té, for the hope and risk of an uncertain… and most possibly a better alternative ending?

Tomoyo chose to heed the latter. She rolled out of the messy-heap-of-a-bed and headed for her second shower of the day.


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"Excuse me, my dear lady…" A Caucasian man said his pale-green eyes decidedly honest and earnest. "Is this heaven? Because… I'm seeing an angel before me."

De ja vu? No. This was the fourth pick-up line used on her tonight. The heiress sighed disapprovingly.

The three men, seated in a table not far from hers snickered at their friend. He came with those trio who each had a turn in reciting her a "pick up" piece.

"Je devrais vous aveugler avec cette boisson." Tomoyo said in perfect French, verbalizing her desire to fling the alcohol contents of her margarita to his eyes and perversely enjoy watching him recoil in pain! But, alas! She was too well-bred for that ... he was not worthy for her to stoop that low. Besides, her conscience would never allow her to forgive herself. And so, she gritted her teeth and flashed him a tight-lipped, convincingly pleasant smile, saying most regally, "You need to get you're eyes checked, sir. I'm afraid you're seeing things."

The young man shook his head. Chuckling insolently and muttering something like "I'll do that, Ice Princess." As he took his leave. He took the fourth seat amidst the snickering trio.

Tomoyo gave no indication to something that was meant for her to hear on the sly. Instead, she busied herself by discretely rearranging her skirt's folds over her knees as she crossed her legs at the ankles. Only now did she fully realize how important it is for a lady to have an escort, chaperon or at least a companion at times and places such as this.

When her self-chastisement passed, she turned to the "next" one to blame. 'Men! If they find you all dressed-up and alone they swarm like a horde of ravenous wolves… They cannot seem to put it through their egotistical heads that it does NOT follow that whenever a girl is dressed-up and sits alone—she's saying "Hey boys! Lookee here… Come and get me."'

Tomoyo critically called into mind her selected ensemble... her high-waisted white Grecian-inspired strapless dress with an artfully yet simply draped bodice and a delicate flowy columnar pleated skirt that ended well below her knee. It had been modestly obscured by a beautiful long-sleeved black lace shirt with no-front-buttons but securely closed with an over sized black leather belt that matched her black leather knee-length, stiletto-heeled boots...

Certainly NOT a "pick me up" attire! She thought fiercely!

Perhaps it was her make-up? Really! She scoffed at the thought. Her make-up simple enough— a very light application of blush on her cheeks after base of a little concealer here and there, a touch of black and a dash of gray eye shadow and very minimal eyeliner was applied to her upper lids to define the almond shape of her eyes and a pale, almost nude pinkish-apricot lipstick on her lips.

Madamoiselle Le Fonde, back in Académie would most certainly say that her 'look' tonight was very schoolgirl-ish to the standards of Parisienne Fashion!

Tomoyo could not understand it… What's wrong with these men? She could see herself as a commonplace office girl—having a little drink before heading home…

Maybe it's the stiletto heels of my shoes... hmmm... With her eyes already downcast, she saw a pair of impeccably shined masculine shoes standing before hers.

For the fifth time that evening, she was greeted. "Good Evening..." a familiar voice began, rudely dislodging her from her musings. Tomoyo had a resolute mind to simply ignore the speaker... and then, he finished by adding, "Miss Angel." And with that, her eyes shot up to the speaker's face. "Now, now…" he said in a rather amused tone… "There's no need to look at me so contemptibly. But I dare say, if you have a dagger as cutting as the gaze you're giving me now… I'll be dead now."

"Mr. Hiiragizawa…" She chided demurely, trying to dim the surprised intensity she felt her eyes showed. "What is with this talk of me being a murderess? I thought we have already established that I am not running from the law."

"Eriol." He corrected with a smile.

"Eriol." She amended with an even brighter smile.

And, my god, what a beautiful smile—it bared his straight, white teeth (which must have cost a fortune, courtesy of braces) and hinted a small clef on his left cheek. It was unreservedly disarming. Whatever he was saying about her being a murderess of sort—her feminine sensibilities wanted to forgive and forget… And the navy blue suit he wore fit his tall and lean frame to perfection—he looked so—she stopped herself from finishing her sentence. There was something to this new feeling that startled her... Too odd, too soon...

Casting a fleeting look at the piano sitting idly on the end of the lounge, she tried to recollect herself. She cleared her throat to break the tension, she swore, only she was sensing. "Would you care to have a seat?" She gestured an empty seat before her.

The four men, obviously eavesdropping (among other things) wondered amongst themselves what the rather tall Japanese guy with glasses said that made her Ice-Highness offer him a seat. But it was what the "lucky" man said that made their jaws drop.

"No thank you, dear angel… I have to work." He pointedly tossed a head to the piano in the far end of the lounge.

Tomoyo opened her mouth but no words came out. She could not put a finger on the reason why she was rendered to such inability… She watched his commanding form him stride away, the insight presented itself to her.

Her fingers found the stem of her glass and brought it to her lips. The liquid felt cool in her mouth but as she swallowed it slid like a fiery trail down to her stomach. Soothed by the drink as it settled in the pit of her stomach, she reclined comfortably in her seat, her violet eyes resolute on Eriol.

He had a different side to him… She saw that… One moment he's an adorable, smiling schoolboy who wants to please a pretty lady… and in the next, he's an insufferable, haughty man who knows his effect on a smitten lady!

Her dark, shapely eyebrow rose a good half-inch at the sight of a knowing smile playing the corners of Eriol's mouth. Men! Tomoyo waved at the waiter who appeared by her side almost immediately, "A strawberry margarita, please." She said.

"Very good, ma'am." The waiter replied and he was gone.

He took a seat before the piano, where most musicians took a minute or two to arrange the notes—Eriol did not. He immediately ran his fingers though keys and produced the familiar, haunting tune of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

The slow, melancholy tune sounded like a phantom reminding her of the things she wanted to put out of her mind… forever.

She shifted her gaze upward slightly and saw that he was completely absorbed in this serene isolation he placed himself in… And with every pearl white key struck, its corresponding tune only seems to further his isolation.

Tomoyo watched and listened… she found herself wondering … and envying, if should even find such a place for herself.

A place of pleasant and permanent isolation… where nothing bad could ever find her and shatter everything she treasured—her dreams. Tomoyo's movements deadened, admonishing herself silently. Here you go again… entertaining such selfishness.

A sickeningly delightful chill trickled though her body, her eyes flitted to the empty margarita glass… Well, I never! Serving an empty glass! With her brows in a rather fetching knit, she summoned the waiter. "Another margarita, if you please waiter. Et cette fois, And this time, fill it with something- say, the margarita?"

When the drink arrived, she took a hearty sip, made a face as the drink trickled down her insides, duly replacing the empty void within her with something warm and to some degree… filling.

Heartened with a sudden loss of inhibition, she returned to her earlier thought. What is this? Tomoyo brooded, eyes hardening. I mean, how will this—drink and all this 'hiding out' help? Is this even helping my cause or merely buying my time?

With that she brought her drink to her mouth and let it water down the bitterness her throat. In her slightly alcohol-infused state, she did not notice the worried look aimed to her general direction from the piano player. Her fourth, fifth, margarita came and gone… Just like (snap) that, the last note of that Beethoven piece ended.

My god! I really am wasting everyone's time, aren't I? Tomoyo threw her head back and laughed bitterly.

There goes her sixth, her seventh margarita… "Je devrais être à ma maison." I could be at home. Tomoyo sadly admitted to the nearest object to herher very recently empty liquor glass. "Non ivre et très bloody alone! Trouvez une alternative à ce problème idiot avec ma mère. AVEC ma mère?" Clear-headed and not so bloody alone… ranking my mind for a solution to this stupid dilemma with mom. WITH mom? "HA!" she snorted in a fetchingly adorable French manner... and tad bit too loudly, thus, earning for herself the disapproving interest of everyone lounging about.

That is, everyone but those four men in the corner table who looked VERY pleased at her condition. Tomoyo turned her empty glass in her hand, giggling at something only she found amusing. The four men made their move… evil intent burning behind their eyes.

Eriol saw that. He moved quickly—his training as man-of-affairs was not in vain. He crossed the lodge's entirety to her table, swiftly and silently. And like an avenging angel, a stern sentinel, a forbidding foe... He stood by Tomoyo as she slumped to her side on the table. His arms folded over his chest, eyes watchful… and daring.

They must have seen it too.

Tomoyo managed to lift her head to the sight… she wobbled slightly as the liquor slowly did its magic. He stood beside her, daring the evil men to play out their evil intentions. He was her Knight in Shining Armor.

Wait a minute! Wasn't I supposed to be giving up on fairytales?

The white-gold charm bracelet glimmered as she reached out to the vision. Was he for real? Was he really there… for her?

A dark head hit the table top as Tomoyo passed out.

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End of Chapter Three


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Author's Notes:

(1) I really apologize to those who are scandalized for the content of this chapter—drinking/liquor "abuse"…please don't burn me! As you can see, I am taking the appropriate actions… By changing the rating and all that.

(2) A reply to a review question—Yes, Sakura and Syaoran will be making an appearance… but that would be very later on the story.

(3) Thank you for reading! .. yey! \m/

Until the next chapter, you guys… Ü


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