Chamelea
Chapter 4
All right, I'm going to do some SERIOUS work today. My muse, Twinkle, has finally returned with some inspiration so I can work. RONALD MCDONALD IS THE WORLD'S NO.1 SERIAL KILLER! As if you couldn't tell from this fic, I'm a strict vegetarian.
The silver strands of Chamelea's skirt caught the light as her midnight-blue velvet dress swirled around her, and the effect made her hair light up the room in a brilliant silver sheen. The previous night, she had resembled something like a ghost, pure white and wraith-like. Tonight she was more like a painting, still perfect but more lifelike.
Trowa danced with her all night, trying to ignore the murmurs of the crowd around them, his friend's nods of approval and, in particular, Duo's excessively loud support that could be heard from the other side of the ballroom.
The clock struck one, and as she had done the night before, Chamelea turned to leave. Trowa caught her arm.
" When will I see you again?"
She gave him a sad sort of smile.
" You see me every day. You just don't realize it."
With that, she ran out of the door, with Trowa following. Outside, he heard her call a horse in a strange language, then she leapt on its back and they galloped away. Trowa stared helplessly after her.
There was no doubt about it. This was the woman he wanted to marry.
The next day, Trowa wandered aimlessly around the castle grounds, thinking about Chamelea. Just when he had been about to drive his head through the wall with frustration, he saw the one person that might distract him for a little while.
" Quatre! Come here, please."
The stable boy's bright turquoise eyes shone from underneath the hood of his cloak. Trowa could have sworn that he saw a hint of midnight blue run through them as well.
" Yes, my Lord?"
He told Quatre of what had happened last night, and what the girl had said.
" What do you think she meant?"
" Maybe she thinks that you put too much emphasis on her appearance. Think about it, if she wasn't wearing some sort of expensive gown the next time you see her, would you really recognize her?"
" Of course I would. This is the woman that I want to marry."
" Why?"
" What do you mean, why?"
" Why do you want her so badly, if not for her looks?"
" It's more than her looks. She's intelligent as well."
" So is Shadow here. Would you be willing to spend the rest of your life with a horse based on his intelligence?"
" Don't talk nonsense."
" I'm not. There are a lot of people in this Kingdom who are just as beautiful as the girl you described, and many who are just as intelligent. Why do you want her, and not one of them?"
" It's more than that. I know I'm in love."
" How do you know?"
" It's hard to describe."
" Humor me."
" I feel alive around her. Around anyone else, I am a Prince, nothing more. With her, I feel… human."
" Don't you fell this way about anyone else in your Kingdom?"
Trowa looked at the stable boy and felt a wave of revelation. The way he felt around Quatre was similar to the way he felt around Chamelea. But there was one factor missing. Physical attraction.
" I do feel this way about only one other person, but certain factors prevent us from being together."
" Such as?"
Trowa sighed deeply.
" Physical attraction."
Quatre's eyes flashed with anger from under the hood.
" Maybe the girl is right. You judge purely by appearance."
" How dare you speak to me in such an insolent manner!"
" You've never had a problem with it before. Why is it that you only act like a Prince when I insult you?"
" I'm starting to regret talking to you."
" What else can you do with me? You certainly cannot look at me like you would look at your beloved princess, or a lifeless oil painting. What is there left to do but talk to me as if we were two human beings?"
Without another word, Trowa walked off, feeling angry and a little uncomfortable.
" What shall the carnivores be enjoying at tonight's ball, your Highness?"
His bad mood dissipated and he let himself chuckle.
" They massacred the cows tonight."
" Well, be careful. Daisy had a lot of skin and bladder problems."
" I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."
Trowa fought the urge to be violently sick when he watched his friends and most of the guests swallow chunk after chunk of roast beef. He really wanted to make it through the evening so that he could ask Chamelea to be his queen.
" Hey, Tro, when's your girlfriend getting here? I'm surprised that you're not gay like the rest of us, but if she doesn't show up you'll have to make do, right?"
" You should hurry up and marry her, as is your duty."
" Yeah, 'cos you sure aren't getting any younger!"
Trowa was glad to get away from them when Chamelea finally arrived. This time, she was wearing a dress of bright gold, the color of the sun, that made her eyes seem as clear as the azure skies outside and her hair glowed a brilliant golden-blonde. Smiling at Trowa, she beckoned him towards her. After dancing for a while, he asked her to speak with him outside.
" I want you to become my Queen."
" Why me and not another?"
" I love you."
" No, I suspect that you are in love with my image. I cannot be a showpiece."
" I am weighted down by my Father's crown, and I must choose a partner."
" You are cursed with your Father's crown, just as I was cursed with my Mother's ring."
" What?"
On the ring finger of one hand, Chamelea wore a small, oddly shaped ring, which she slid off to present to Trowa.
" When my Mother died, it was decreed that whoever had a finger small enough to fit this ring would be my Father's new bride."
Trowa nodded. It sounded a little backwards but it was reasonable. But wait, why was she wearing it…
" The ring could only fit one of my Mother's children, and so I was told to marry my Father."
Trowa looked at her in horror. Marry her Father?
" I managed to escape him, but I refuse to be part of a royal decree. If you must marry me, take me as your partner and not your Queen. And don't take me as a trophy."
Forgetting that Trowa was still holding the ring, Chamelea turned and ran outside before he could stop her. The Prince sighed and stared at the ring. And a grin broke out across his face. He had an idea.