Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon.

Just a note: This is an AR Sailor Moon fiction. It takes place in an undefined time. It will be a romance between my favorite couple Darien/Serena. Hope you enjoy and as always please review.

Chapter One

Sixteen year old, Serena Phelps sat at the window of her grandfather's large Victorian home. Her head of golden curls leant against the windowpane. As the gentle rain sent droplets down the window, she ran her finger from dot to dot connecting them into imaginary shapes. The house was always so gloomy when it rained. Which it seemed to do quite often she noted. And today, with all that had happened it was stifling. She had been listening to some music in her room, a bit to loudly, when her grandfather announced he had had enough. He had begun to bang on her door. Even though she had turned it down immediately his eyes never stopped blazing with anger. She always seemed to anger him no matter what she did. The day before she had found an old book in the library and began to read it when he stormed in snatching it from her yelling for her to stop meddling. The next thing she knew he had called for his lawyer. Taking a deep breath she rose from the window seat. Smoothing the material of her yellow spring dress. She headed into the library. There her grandfather was discussing her future. Considering it was her future, you would believe she would be included in the conversation. But no, she was, in her grandfather's words "Too young to make such choices on her own". She remembered the exact tone of voice he had when he conveyed that to her. She had no choice in her future. All she could do was obey and bide her time until the day she could leave this accursed town. After her parents died in a plane crash, she was pulled from her home. Told that she was going to live with her grandfather, a man she had never laid eyes on. A man that had decided since his son chose to marry beneath his standards; he no longer wanted anything to do with him. She could not think of a colder thing than to abandon your child because they chose love over social standing. But here she was in his dank, lifeless home, surrounded by his mahogany wood and hunter green walls. A truly masculine home, complete with dead animals on the wall, the sight of which gave her chills. She walked slowly toward her destination. Trying not to take notice of the foreign smells of a home that was shut off from light. After all this time she was still not used to the smell of dusty draperies and old wood. As she drew closer she could hear the low grumble of male voices in a heated conversation. She crept to the door, gently placing a hand against the cold dark wood; she pressed her ear against it in an attempt to hear better the conversation that thus far, had lasted two hours straight.

As she listened the words became less jumbled. "Why do I have to keep the child?" A harsh voice rang clear. She could only assume it to be that of her grandfather. The thick door making the voice echo.

Another male voice began to speak, this one sounding less gruff, his tone did however seemed angry yet calm." She is your granddaughter. Besides, there is no one else to take her in. Do you suppose we send a Phelps to an orphanage? That would look great in the papers. I can see it now. 'Mr. Phelps multi-millionaire sends grandchild and heir to Phelps industries to an ORPHANAGE.' Yes, that will look very good." Serena gasped her blue eyes widening at the word orphanage; she had not expected him to be happy to see her. But to be discarded into an orphanage she could feel warmth build behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly. A refusal to let them fall overwhelmed her. He would not make her cry with his heartless words.

"I was not suggesting an orphanage, Mr. Ward. God no. That is not what I meant. But surely…there must be someone else…someone who…" there was a long pause "Of course, send her to my brother." His voice turned jovial at this new idea.

"Your brother?" Mr. Ward asked in surprise.

"Yes, he has a vineyard in Italy. His estate is large so there should not be the question of room. Also I believe the last time I spoke to him he was without children. His wife is apparently barren. Another Phelps with poor choice in women."

Mr. Ward heaved a heavy sigh before he continued. "I did not even know you had a brother. Why have you never mentioned him?"

"Well he left to pursue his dream of owning and running a vineyard. I have to say when he was disowned and ran off to Italy, I thought what a bloody fool. But it seems he made a fortune for him self out there after all." There was a long silence, and then Mr. Ward spoke. 

"When's the last time you spoke to him?" His concern was apparent in his tone.

"Not that long ago, maybe, ten some odd years. What does that have to do with anything? He is family just as much as I am. Why can't he take her? I have no room for a girl running around. Or patience for the trouble they bring in their wake. Girls seem to master at causing mischief and chaos in a man's life. I will not have it! Not in my house, never!" His voice trembled at the end as if a memory coincided with his words and proved to be too much for him.

"Very well. How do I contact him? He will after all need to know she is coming. And have the opportunity to decide whether he will accept her." There was a rustling of papers.

"Oh he will accept her. The sentimental fool always wanted a little girl. Even though I told him a so- His words were cut off by a sudden silence.  "I will contact him. Well, go tell the girl to come in here." His words were accompanied by the creaking sound of old leather.

With quick steps Serena rushed back to the parlor. She had no desire to be caught snooping. Barely having time to take a seat the man she now knew as Mr. Ward entered the room. "Ms. Phelps." He came to sit beside her. "My name is Mr. Ward."

Serena simply nodded to the tall man that sat beside her. She took in his appearance. His green eyes looked very sad as he stared back at her. She assumed he was most likely in his forties. His jet-black hair had gray forming at the temples to indicate his age. She could tell he was a very handsome man in his youth. "I have a confession Mr. Ward." She did not understand why she felt it necessary to tell him of her presence at the door, but she did. "I already know. Know that my…that Mr. Phelps does not want me to continue staying here." She looked away from his eyes that grew sadder at the recent revelation. "I can't say that I am all that sad about it. I have never wanted to stay where I was not wanted. So you can save yourself the speech." She warranted a look in his direction. Only to see he was looking out of the window with a gloomy expression that matched the décor.

"I am sorry you heard that. It was not meant for your ears. I wish your grandfather were a different man, the man he used to be. He was not always so bitter I assure you. There was a time when this house was bright and cheery." Serena settled back in her seat. She was not sure if he meant to go into detail. But if he did she wanted to hear all he had to say. "I grew up in this town. Went to the same school as your father."

 He paused to look in her direction as if worried the mention of her father would send her into tears. She gave him a small smile. It told him without words that it was all right to continue. So he did.

 "Back then Mrs. Phelps was alive. She brought a bright light of life into this house. She would hostess post-game parties for the high school. I can still remember the smell of her cake as it filled the house. After a big game we would all gather here for a home cooked meal. She was the best cook. At that time Mr. Phelps always laughed and joked with us about if he was our age he would be MVP by now." He chuckled in memory and shook his head.

His cheery expression did not last. Within moments it turn serious and very somber. "That all changed when she took ill. They had an argument that night. No one knows what it was about. But sometime during the fight Mrs. Phelps had ran from the house. It was storming that night. I saw her when she left the house. I was at my window."

 He pointed to the house across the street before he continued.

"He came after her, but she was too fast for him. When they found her she was soaked through and shivering with fever. She never recovered. After that he closed his self off. The rumors spread as they usually do in a small town. They spoke of her having an affair. Of him having an affair. Of course, as with all rumors he is the only one that knows what really happened. Shortly after, things became decidedly worse.  That is when your father met your mother. I don't have to tell you how your grandfather took it. He has become bitter and I know he seems cruel to you. I don't mean to say he is warranted in his treatment of you. But maybe, knowing that all is not as it seems will help, you understand him somewhat. He has his secrets that are eating away at him. And I believe his way of copping is to lash out at others."

 He looked at her as if he feared he had said too much. He seemed to stare at her for a long time, with something like apprehension flashing in his eyes, but before she could question it, it was gone.  He reached for his bag. Standing he extended a hand to Serena. "We shouldn't keep your grandfather waiting." Accepting his proffered hand she allowed him to pull her to her feet.  Walking slowly behind him she entered the room where her grandfather sat waiting.

She stood before a large wood desk with a cherry finish. The carved designs on it gave it an antique look. Her eyes never leaving the floor she acknowledged the man behind the desk. "Mr. Phelps" she saw no reason to refer to him otherwise. And to her dismay he did not seem to either.

"Yes, yes I have good news for you child. You are going on a trip. To Italy, you leave in the morning." Her Grandfather announced as if telling her she had won a prize vacation. His blue eyes twinkled beneath his white brows.

Serena's mouth dropped open for a moment before she regained her composure. He had not wasted any time in arranging her departure. "I'll go pack." she walked from the room without another word. She could see Mr. Ward's helpless expression out of the corner of her eye. She gave him a reassuring smile as she passed him. She quickly crossed the threshold and headed for the stair that led to her room. Her room, somehow she never felt that it was her room. She mused at that now thinking back to when she first arrived. The room felt so foreign and uninviting that she postponed the unpacking. Maybe she had a second sense that in fact it was not going to be her room for long.

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