I do not own Harry Potter. Never did and never will, if you have yet to notice. :Smile: The acadamy awards are on tonight, as it is currently Feburary 27th 2005, and I am eager to see what awards my favorite movies might get. (PotO, Hp3, FNl) Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I am trying to add some Lily and James romance, although I won't make any promises.
As for a touch on the subject of the L/J relationship; there isn't much going on right now, action wise, but a lot emotion-wise. If you know me at all, you'll understand this clearly. (I like to write about things going on in peoples' heads. Their thoughts, their feelings, their points of views and all that jazz.) Anywhoo, the idea of telling the story in perspective of such characters as Lillian Evans: a princess who is torn with the thought that she is madly inlove with the perfect guy (Hilliard) and lusting after the bad boy (Potter), and James Potter: a young man whose always lived his life feircely and alone and is terrified at the thought of loosing that style to the arms of a girl who belongs to the people he hates most, is quite a day's work. Well, I will get on with the story then.
Solitude and a Prisoner
His mind reeled. Angry thoughts shot through him like nothing he had ever felt before. Or much like. The corpse hung from a banister, held high over a catwalk-like stair case that lead to the roof of the Theater. It hung weak and lifeless, and the paleness of its skin shone through the darkness of the room. James gulped, trying to keep his temper down, but failed dismally. Fury pummeled through him like a raging fire, but he wouldn't show Lily.
Standing up slowly, he walked to the corpse with pure ease. Lily stared on in mixed horror and wonder. James remained so calm, even when he saw the disturbing corpse of Francesca. Oh, how the young man confused her. Tears streamed down her face like a river and, try as she might, it was impossible to hold them back.
Francesca had been her only true friend and now she was dead. Her body hung like a rag from the banister, its only movements was lifeless, soft wavers in the wind. Lillian didn't know what to think, her eyes followed James' cat-like movements as he stalked towards the billowing corpse.
Dead. Death was no stranger to the young king of thieves, not even killing. He had killed more people and in more ways then the Princess of Wales needed to know. Death was as common as a song hummed by one of the thieves. Yes, James knew death as if it were a friend of his, and sometimes lusted after it as if it were a woman.
His cold hazel stared at the corpse, unfeeling and distant. He didn't notice Lily scramble to her feet uneasily, and walk up behind him. He didn't do anything. Which wasn't the least bit unusual; deep inside his own head, trying to comprehend all that had happened.
Francesca had once been a member of the thieves. Her mother, Neine du Jumbare was his mother's best friend, and her husband, Alexander de Monroe, was a good friend of hers too. He'd grown up knowing Francesca as one of them, and then, as Monsieur Monroe's lifeless body fell to the earth, eight years ago, it was all over. Madame Monroe ran away. And she became a servant to the nobles, if she couldn't have done anything more disgusting!
James' long glare remained on his hard face as he just stared. Lillian frowned and used her hand to wipe away the stray tears from her face and eyes. She finally didn't know what to think. Her mind was spinning in circles; half trying to deal with her best friend's sudden death, half trying to figure James out still.
Alone again. James was constantly being left alone. Everyone who mattered to him always went way-taken away by the harsh grief of life, fleeing from the dark fate that life bestowed upon them.
James Potter's life was so different from hers. He was content with his loneliness, knowing that he was meant to be that way. His life was more a curse then a blessing, for he had to fight his way through it just to live. His people-his friends, were all the same. They were street people, learning to depend on only themselves. And while a girl of her status' only worry was to make the best impression on everyone else, theirs was to do all that they could to make life better for their families and friends. They had to steal just to survive, and barely. Yet, they never seemed to act as if they had nothing. James' in particular, because cruel and harsh as he was, he always understood what his fate was. He was poor and alone and despised, and he didn't care at all.
'I would always be crying.' Lillian thought miserably as she stood silently behind the even quieter boy. 'My whole life has been made. I've never had to see the world for how dark and scary it really was. I've only seen the good in people and life.'
James' fists shook beside him, cold white knuckles, paling with each shiver that ran up his spine. Anger deemed through him like a coursing river, ripping him apart slowly. He closed his eyes for a second to clear his head, but the thoughts wouldn't die, and his eyes opened in rage.
The soft breathing of Lily could be heard, and the sound surrounded him. It seemed much more like the blaring of a herd then just a human's breath, and twisted James' thought and pounded in his head. His hands flew to his head as he grasped it in pain. He didn't even feel himself fall to his knees, but Lily did, and she gasped loudly.
She ran to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, only resulting in him bouncing up almost at once and rounding on her bitterly.
"Comfort me, Lily! Don't even try it! Just get out of here! I don't need you! I don't need anybody! Just run on back to that perfect life of yours, why don't you! Go on, get! Runaway from this demeaning nightmare that keeps you locked up. Forget this-forget it all. Don't come back!" He spat wildly.
Lily shrank from his cruel remark. He truly was disturbed in the head. Of course she cared! He cared about her and she would always care about him. His body shook unbearably, and he looked as if he were holding back even more rage.
"James, don't be foolish-"
"I told you to go. Go now before you become prey to my own lust for noble blood!" He was serious. You could see it in the burning of his hazel eyes. Lillian's eyes widened in horror as he pulled from his pants pocket, a shiny metal object. He had a dagger.
"No, James...come on...put that away. Please, put that dagger away." She whimpered, slowly stepping back. James grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to him. He snarled in a voice so cruel and deceitful that it seemed as if Hades would fear it,
"Then run. Run away and never return."
So she ran. Tears ran down her face like a river as she banged through the opening of the building, shards of glass poking its way through her shoes. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, crying against the wind and shutting her eyes to the glare of bright sunshine. Time after time, she rammed into someone, who glared at her ruefully, but she kept on running. Lillian ran and ran until she reached home.
James sighed and looked around him. When his anger had finally subdued, he turned to leave, giving one last glance to the woman's lifeless hanging body. He suddenly turned back around and pulled his dagger out of his pocket-the same one he had threatened the Princess with only minutes before. Walking to the corpse, he pulled himself onto the bar and cut the rope that hung around her neck. She fell to the carpeted floor with a quiet thud, lying on her face.
The young King plopped down beside her and frowned.
"Me and my damn conscious. You'd hang there if it weren't for it, you know. Now, what to do with you..." he muttered to the dead body. James looked around him and with a gruesome thought, wondered what restorers would think if they found the dead body. 'Probably scared beyond belief.' he thought with a morbid grin.
"I can't really take you outside, now can I? Yeah, a man dragging a dead woman down the street. No attention drawn there." And so his eyes searched the room once again. Those hazel eyes widened and brightened when they landed on a coffin-like box, tucked away under a table.
"Well...it isn't much, but...I think that you will live." He laughed at the latter remark. Ruggedly opening the coffin, he placed Francesca in it delicately.
"May the God of yours take pity on your soul." James murmured to the lifeless figure, and with a snapping turn, he fled the Theater.
He snapped through the new camp ground angrily, bumping into Remus Lupin while at it. Remus, who had always been a subdued type of man, only shot a worried look at his obviously angry mate. James only stomped into his tent, thrashing down the flap so he could be alone. Sirius and Peter walked up quietly next to Remus and the young werewolf frowned at them too.
"Something's wrong with him. He isn't himself." Peter mumbled staring after the king's fleeing figure. Sirius cocked his head towards the tiny blonde haired boy and scrawled.
"You think! How much do you want to bet it's that girl again?" Remus gave a halting look at his mate and shook his head.
"I don't think so. I mean, James isn't one to get this way over a girl. It must have something to do with someone else...Anyways; we better go hunting or something. I think there is a new market down the road."
"Damnit!" His hands bled and throbbed, but he didn't cease to bang them endlessly against the rocky wall that held up his tent. Everything around him was dark, the light only illuminated by a tiny candles. The young king fell to his knees and his arms grew tired as pain surged through them.
The image of Lily running away as fast as her legs could carry her flashed in his mind. Then she was crying. Her emerald eyes glaring up fearfully at him-it had finally occurred to her that she was in the presence of a murderer.
It wasn't fair...He hated himself. He hated the world. He hated life in general. James gave it all up. He'd given up everything by now-hope, dreams, religion and affection. These things were pointless, leading only to more suffering and more pain.
Who was to blame for it all? God? Could he really blame the man that so many people had faith in? Faith in what though? A figment of their imagination, an almighty speculator that they all kneeled before-turning to him whenever they were weak or misunderstood. Religion was a petty waste of time. A useless chance to think that you were watched over and your faith would be decided by some great, mysterious power. But, if there was a God, and he really was as great as everyone claimed; protecting people from the nightmarish world and rescuing them from mindless sins that stalked the world like demonic shadows, then why didn't he help James? Here he was, a tortured and bleeding soul, a man-or monster- left out in the rain to rot and die alone.
''God never spared me. He never even looked upon me. I am just a pawn of Satan. He ignores those who do not successfully play his games, those who do not give into him. If you are real, then prove it to me. I never asked anything of you, but this: Kill me, God. Deny me the chance to live, relieve me of this hellish torture, even if it concludes with me burning in hell again." he muttered to no one in particular. Maybe God, maybe himself.
This is really your own fault. You built this world of pain and suffering. You made this Hell on your own. James' eyes looked skyward and his hands clutched together as if praying.
"My own death can be arranged." He muttered.
Sunlight poured into her room as Princess Lillian Evans eyes opened wide. She sat up slowly, shivering against the cruel morning freeze, and peered out the window. Something moved outside. The young woman stepped out of bed, wincing as her bare feet touched the cold stone floors.
Lillian wiped a stray length of fiery red hair from her face and tucked it behind one of her ears. She leaned down and rested her arms on the window seal, sighing as she saw her mother's maid in tears and being consoled by the other chambermaids and servants.
Poor woman. She thought. First she looses her husband-then her daughter. Familiar tears began to form in her emerald green eyes. The girl blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. She had cried too much already, and she wanted to be strong. Strong like James was.
Lillian frowned at this thought and the tears went away. He was so angry that day, mad at her and mad a society. He was having a battle with his own emotions and was loosing dismally. She felt for the poor young man. He didn't understand how he felt back there-blinded by the ability of masking his emotions, and he couldn't that time around.
And then she feared him. He had threatened her with that horrible dagger of his. Dangling her life ahead of her as if it were some joke. He was a monster; he didn't deserve the love and tenderness he disregarded. James Potter, King of thieves, was a demon, incapable of compassion.
Lillian frowned and looked down at the stone paved streets. Everything around her seemed to be made of stone or hard rock. It all seemed to fake, non existent and cold. Like the people.
Those who called the castle 'home' were all the same: lifeless, brainless, useless women and whiny, uptight men. Even some of the servants seemed tactless. Like they had no lives other then serving under the King and Queen.
Grisebella, for example.
Griswbella Monstone was a twenty year old girl with no brain of her own and practically kissed the young princess' feet. Lillian would wake up to Grisebella's cherry demeanor and then roll her emerald green eyes at the servant whenever she made a simple mistake and freaked out.
"Don't worry about it, Grisebella." She assures, but the young woman would never comply. She burst into tears and begs for forgiveness, as if her life depended on it. Not that she had much of a life in the first place, Lily mused harshly but honestly.
The Queen seemed to be the only woman who had a level head and knew where she stood. Whilst other Queens of the Land would have current fainting spells and hide away whenever something remotely dangerous occurred, Lillian's mother would sigh and turn her head. The Queen was young and beautiful, long locks of auburn hair pulled back and weaved beautifully. But her fondest and most gorgeous moments, in which Lillian loved to do as a child, was when she sat at her mirror table and brushed out those breath-taking locks.
In thus, the young Princess of Wales began to play with her own hair. Fiery red, unlike her father's, whose hair was pale blonde like his skin. Her hands came to her face as she traced over her features, memorizing them as if she stood before a mirror.
Shoulder length, dark fiery red hair, almond shape emerald green eyes, poutful lips and rosy cheeks all lay upon a pale face. She wasn't very tall, almost 5 feet, and looked just as dainty as royalty, but made up for it in shape. Lillian filled out her dresses nicely, mostly hidden behind torture contraptions they liked to call corsets, and smooth milky legs, enough to make any man excited.
Except for James Potter. Which probed her mind angrily because, James himself, wasn't so bad looking. No, in fact, the young King was rather handsome. He stood a mighty 5'6 and everything about him seemed dark except for the color of his eyes. Hazel. Although, they darkened whenever that cloud of black passed over them. That was alright though; it looked nice against his well tanned skin and pitch black hair. And those eyes that laid behind thin rimmed glasses seemed so much more entrancing then those of any of the castle boys she knew.
"It's something like a give and take. You spend your life on the streets and you don't end up looking as soft and calm as nobles. When your eyes see blood and suffering every day-well...it's only normal." Francesca had said the morning before, as she helped Lillian dress for their meeting with James. The tears came again, and she fought back.
So, not to think of her late friend, she placed her thoughts on her upcoming marriage. Hilliard-the most handsome young man in the land, wanted her. When he could have his choice of any fair lady in all of England, he chose Lillian Marie Evans. He had said that he liked her cheerful personality. Her way of loving people even though they were different.
Hilliard, at twenty, was a good looking man himself. He had beautiful blonde hair and cute ocean blue eyes. High cheek bones and a friendly smile made him seem almost a child, soft and gentle enough to hold. He hunted once in awhile, but stopped when Lillian told him how vile she thought of it. The poor man was eating out of the palm of her hand, on one bended knee, at her every command. And all he asked back for was love. And Lillian loved him.
Another figure kept forcing its way into her mind, though. That of James Potter, and she couldn't help but compare them for the millionth time. Where James was dark and demeaning, Hilliard was light and cheerful. Where James was dangerous and cold, Hilliard was gentle and warm. They were like polar opposites, an angel of light and an angel of Hell.
Both men were equally attractive, both making a young girl's heart yearn for their affection. Only Hilliard could give that affection. James couldn't, or much less, wouldn't. Imagining Hilliard holding her tight and whispering words of tenderness and love were quite practical. But dreaming Potter doing this was only a dream. Though he did hold her tight, but not out of affection. Just to keep her out of trouble. And it had cost them the life of their own friend-no. She wouldn't think about it.
Hilliard had held her once before, wrapping his soft and cunning arms around her small frame, holding her tightly to him as if pleading her not to go. His touch seemed so gentle, so loving. His long fingers would hold her and pat her lace covered shoulders.
Fierce. Needy. Lusting. That's what James' touch was. He'd clutched at her like no other man had, indecent, but she loved it anyhow. He'd held her in a way that she'd never imagined-love and lust mixed in one. He didn't caress her shoulders like Hilliard did, but gripped them in his strong, large hands. Everything about the way he held her would seem appalling to the castle residents, but seemed so perfect to her. For once, no one treated her like a porcelain doll. James didn't see the need to treat her that way. He didn't care if she was royalty. He held her as if she were your average woman.
Hilliard's intimacy seemed so infantile compared to the way Lillian imagined James' would be. Hilliard would hold her close, take the lead and show her how. James would take it slow, allow her to learn on her own, but hold her in his arms like a darkened man. She could see the dark longing in his eyes, his needy grip on her, begging her for more.
Lillian felt her cheeks heaten and she brushed off the thought. How manerless and easy was she being! A lady was not supposed to think of the intimate touch a man, much less one of whom isn't her engaged when she was engaged.
The Princess decided to dress and stood before her long mirror. What a sight for sore eyes, she was truly a dame. But not as exotic and sexy as those dancers in Potter's group had been. He was right. Nothing was more breathtaking then the slow and seductive movements they made.
She pulled her dark hair up from her neck and decorated it above her head. Raising a thin brow in a questioning look, she laughed at her reflection. How pitiful she looked standing there trying to look seductively sexy and in a sleeping dress made of fine silk. Better try the innocent look. Innocent look. Perfect.
"Milady, his and her majesty would like a word with you." A small voice said, coming from the corner of her little opened door.
Her hands dropped imminently to her side.
"I'll be there as soon as I am dressed."
''And so...she just...hung around?" Sirius asked, trying not to snort at his own cruel joke. James shot a cold glare at him. Remus shuffled on his feet beside him, trying to keep the young king calm and annoyed that Sirius was only making things worse. Peter, who stared at Sirius with a look of sarcastic pity, shook his head, ruffling his blonde hair.
"Padfoot, don't be a fool. Francesca was our friend. 'Sides, how'd you like it if we talked about your death so easily! Neine must be distraught. What with both her companions being found hung and dead." the boy said gravely. Sirius shook his head dismissively at Peter, turning to face James instead.
"Well then, what about the girl? She okay?" James ran his bruised and cut hands through his dark hair. He didn't really know. All that he remembered was demanding that she leave and never return and scaring the life out of her my threat of his dagger. He had no idea where she had run to or if she managed to get there safely.
"Oh, don't tell me you left her alone! James, she's not an ordinary girl. She could have been raped or murdered. Tell me you had enough sense to at least be sure she made it home safe." Remus said, eyes looking wildly at the other boy. James felt his body shake in anger. He knew the consequences. He knew Lily could be lying somewhere on the streets dead with the touch of a man's dirty hands staining on her beautiful pale skin. He knew...he knew she could be lost and alone and afraid.
His anger subsided and he turned his head from his mates. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. In fact he didn't want to talk about anything or with anyone at all. James only wished to be alone. Wished to be back into his dream-like solitude, defending the world from his dark and devious thoughts. Only the nagging angry voice inside his head to keep him company.
"I'm gonna go lie down." He murmured to his friends. "And don't follow me." The demand was added in a harsh tone when Sirius stood up to follow him.
Sirius plunked down back onto the hard log in which he and Remus shared. All three of them stared worriedly after James, but said nothing.
Remus sighed and closed his eyes. James Potter was a hard person to figure out. He was so lost and so dark. But he knew one thing for sure; James was the best friend he could ever ask for. James was a true, honest man and a worthy leader. He'd protect his people, his family, and his friends, no matter what the costs. He didn't seem to care much for his life, risking it easily for the well doing of the thieves and actual innocent people. He smirked at the last remark.
Remus James Lupin may have looked like an innocent and well to do boy, but he had his shady side, just as every man did. He knew how to steal and distract people, even knew the smart way to kill someone if they got in his way. He also had his share of women. Beautiful creatures who evoked his longing and needs. But he was also the most level headed of the few. He didn't spring into action, mostly thought out his plans so he'd do them right the first time around.
Sirius Black. Well, he was another story. Sirius was quite an ironic name for the young thief. He was sneaky as hell and devious with the women. He was the type of guy who'd smile flirtatiously at every other woman, often ending up with a smack in the head if James caught him leering at a lady of royalty. He went with his instincts, worried naught of the consequences that followed his actions.
Then there was Peter Pettigrew. Not the bravest of men, but a sure good companion. Peter had a cute sense to him, making people sorely mistaken when it bit them in the bottom and he'd get easily away with a certain crime. Peter also had a hug heart, fun loving and an all around nice guy. It had been he who had persuaded Remus and Sirius to trust the girl, what was it James had called her?-Oh yes, Lily. Then again, Peter felt he could trust any human who walked down the streets in rags and was small and innocent looking and female.
Another sigh escaped Remus' lips and he turned to face his friends with a serious look.
"Let's go into town tonight. We need a little break." His friends nodded vigerously.
Lillian didn't know what it really was, but it seemed as if some part of her life seemed empty. She was cheerful, however, daintilly enthralled as she sat eating supper with Hilliards' family. King and Queen were just delightful, always commenting on how happy they were that their son had met such a lovely woman to fall inlove with.
It would be only a week until they 'tied the knot', as a servant girl named Ashley would say, and the young woman was very nervous. One week until she would be a Queen. One week until she could finally be with her beloved for always and forever, nothing holding them back.
One more week until you're even more chained up and expected to be even more a lady. A voice sneered in her head. Lillian shook her head. Sure she'd loose what little freedom she had, but for good things to occur, sacrifices must be made. And so what, she couldn't venture off into the town anymore? It hardly mattered, she had no expectations of ever going back there. Not when running into James was so easy. Not when she could once again fall into the hands of that monster and his cursed life.
No, the quiet and simple life was what she wanted. All that mattered was that she'd be with Hilliard as his loving wife and be happy. She'd live with Prince Hilliard and their lives would end happily ever after. She would forget James and his people and the way he made her think about him for hours on end. Children, she'd have lots of children. Cute little replicas of her and her soon to be husband. And James would be gone. Erased from her life so that she could live in peace once again.
"Now, my dear, we heard awful news of your maid. What was that name? Oh yes, Francesca. We're terribly sorry. And to think that you saw the body? Oh, how awful." the Queen was saying. Lillian frowned lightly. It was awful. The worse thing she had ever seen. But it hurt now more then it did then. When she first saw the body and burst into tears, after a bit of comfort from Potter, it seemed to calm her down. But even now, when everyone reassured her and comforted her, she still felt cold and alone. It was James of coruse. She liked him and there was nothing she could do about it.
She really liked him.
Okay, there is chapter eight. I hope you liked this chapter (I guess I did) and I am sorry if I disapointed you at all. Anyway, I have been doodling in math class during the spare time I have (which isn't much) and started a collection of drawings inspired by this story. On that note, I'd like to give a huge thank you to all my reviewers. You all are what makes this story what it is. You're my inspiration. And I thank thee for the marvously ideas. I have a thought for the end (which, sorry to say, you'll have to wait to find out) that might depress some of you, but it may all change if push comes to shove. Also, has anyone thought about having a Writers Awards for the Harry Potter catagory? I would, but I havn't read many fanfics, but those of you who have read a ton, might consider doing it. I think it might be fun. You don't have to if you don't want to-but hey-it's worth a shot. You know, the usual, there will be a few catagories such as best comody and best angst/romance. Or you could just hold one for the Lily/James plot. Hey, your choice.
Onto other matters now. I suggest you read fictions by RemusAllPunked, if you are a Remus lover. And if not, you ought to read them anyways, because they're awfully good. Another blessing shoutout goes to dear Jasu, who helps me out alot with this fic along with RemusAllPunked. Lady of Mesobele, who has been reviewing my story since the start, and all those others, I thanketh thee!
Well, that is all for now. Over and out, mates!
Ballet rats and random people:He's there, the Phantom of the Opera!
Phantom: Dang skippy!
Christine: Oh no! Whatever will we do?
Richard Simmons: Now, no sad faces! Let's dance!
