Scarlet
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By L. Hiiragizawa
*See previous chapters for disclaimer
Vengeance
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Warmth was what she needed all these years, and warmth was what she felt around a stranger whose features she felt she knew so well.
Moments of last night flooded her memory; his aromatic scent filled her senses and strong arms' grip around her waist left a desire to stay around its comforting touch once again. Every tick of time's fingers seemed like eternity as she deemed that everything that was taking place wasn't a result of her subconscious longing for somebody to actually hold and care.
Tomoyo stared at the vast flowerbed before her happy amethyst-like eyes, pupils absorbing the variation of hues and tints, which contrasted the paleness and pasty whiteness of her skin. Marigolds, peonies, violets and wisterias glistened against the rays of the morning sun, dews dripping breathtakingly beautiful from each petal. Her feet took slow, tiny steps and her hands explored the blooming roses that hung like a vine in a gate-like foundation that led to another garden. Careful of the sharp thorns that would draw drops of blood from within the flesh of her fingers, she picked one blood-red flower and picked the petals from what held them together.
Nature wasn't exactly an object of fancy for the once unfeeling girl who sat amongst the green blades of grass near the pond in the corner of a place adorned mostly by daisies and screaming lavenders, pondering on the events that had happened to her since the day she received the weird looking present from her grandmother. She clutched it from within the fabric of her dress, trying to hide its luster from those around, as if it was something private…
Something no one must behold.
Yes, confusion still haunts her deeply but somehow…
Another new feeling arose amidst the blurry assumptions that twisted her mind more.
Her silly infatuation with the man with blue eyes who never left her dreams back in the present grew to an unexplainable force that she suddenly felt when the king took her cold body in his arms last night…
Last night…
Couldn't he be…?
'I must find out the truth.' She vowed silently as questions once again threatened to flood her.
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From behind the huge trees, two gentle eyes peered, watching every move the lady made. She shook her head and a sigh escaped her lips. She clasped her wrinkled hands together and brought her gaze back towards the girl who unexpectedly turned out to be the one she was waiting for all these years after the death of her dear mistress.
She winced when she remembered that only her and her mistress knew of the secret that made kingdoms clash and friendships break. She was the one who made everything possible to hide her mistress' daughter's identity from all those gullible to the truth.
…And till now, it haunts her. Her conscience haunted her.
Her brown eyes observed Tomoyo's movements and expressions.
"She never failed to inherit her mother's traits."
Margaret still remembered every single thing and witnessed the mourning, the comfort exchanged, betrayal, death, war, a love hidden in secrecy, jealousy, hate, a birth of yet another war, another death, mourning, bloodshed and rebirth. She knew that the hatred that was still burning would bring up another series of war, death and mourning.
As long as there was no acceptance, forgiveness, change and sacrifice…
Nothing…
Fate's attempts of bringing her back would end up as nothing.
Though it wasn't technically her…
For the nth time, she took a glance at the lady and her features. Suddenly, her lids closed and what happened that fateful night dawned back to her…
"But your highness…""Take her away, Margaret."
Tears fell from both ladies' eyes.
"She is too innocent, too…"
"…Young." Finished the queen. She took both of her servant's hands, as the newborn offspring's cries were faintly audible that only the two women could hear.
"Margaret, listen, she is too young to die in Evroul's hands. If that would happen… if that would…"
A fresh new set of tears was what Margaret saw in her mistress' eyes. Pity overshadowed her dignity and she hugged the weeping queen, comforting her in every way she could.
"Please Margaret, bring her to her father…"
"King Isidore? But your highness, Queen Selena…"
Victoriana nodded her head and cried some more.
"S-selena knows and she understands. They could never bear a child because of her illness. But Isidore…Isidore knows nothing."
Margaret gazed at the little baby boy sleeping in the corner of the room, lying peacefully in his cradle, and then to the newborn girl lying beside the queen, who was finally silenced by her mother's soft lullaby.
A raging noise of a nearing carriage and horses startled the two, sending alarms to both of the women in dilemma. Margaret gathered the baby girl in her hands quickly as Victoriana gave the young one a last embrace and a farewell kiss.
"I hope you would forgive me someday, my child." She whispered in between sobs as Margaret darted off quickly to the secret exit out of the castle, desperately running to save the young one's life from the wrath of the king.
She never expected everything to happen. Everything happened in a flash of light.
But she remembered every account…
King Evroul disappeared after the war, which caused her mistress' mourning. Isidore, king of Lacrima, comforted her through the rough times till she accepted that he may have died and left her all alone. Through comfort, grew a love that bore her a second child. A second child out of infidelity and whom she was now cradling tightly in her arms as she fled away from Clementia to the Southern Kingdom. Victoriana never knew that her husband was still alive and she feared of the baby's life.
Now, there she was, in front of the castle gates. With tears in her eyes, she left the heavily wrapped princess as she slept soundly, unsure of what was happening around her. Margaret's feet went heavy. She half-heartedly turned her back quickly, leaving behind an innocent girl in the middle of the night, when she saw that people from the castle were rushing towards the entrance.
She ran, hoping to forget…
Hoping that everything was an illusion…
A dream…
But she never did.
Sighing inwardly, she opened her eyes, seeing the lady sitting near the pond. She was thinking about something as she herself, was thinking too. Turning her back and ready to retreat for the castle, her eyes suddenly met a pair of blue eyes, staring at the woman she stared at minutes ago.
His intent gaze broke when an old lady did a curtsy and bowed in honor of his presence.
Margaret was about to leave when a hand stopped her from going further. She didn't resist the grip of the king she took care of since he was a child. She looked at his eyes, which were observing the raven-haired maiden enjoying herself in the midst of the flowers. She smiled.
"She is beautiful isn't she?"
Eriol answered in a nod.
"Just don't look at her too long, she might melt."
He automatically shied away, cheeks having tinges of pink as she grinned.
"Eriol…Eriol…" Margaret patted him in the back like what she did in the earlier days when he wasn't too cold. Surprisingly, he never reacted or fumed in anger when she addressed him the way she used to.
"That girl." She pointed out since she didn't know her name yet.
"Is very impressive."
His brows met in confusion.
"Enlighten me, Margaret, I cannot seem to decipher what you meant by "impressive".
She chuckled in reply.
"Look at her."
Eyes fixed upon the lady who was happily going from flower to flower, obviously taking in the fragrance of each.
"Dislike arose when the two of you first met but as I can see through your now, soft eyes, you seem to like her after all. She changed you."
Eriol shook his head.
"You don't understand, Margaret. I try to like her because…because…"
"She looks like Sophia and you're hoping she might be her?"
He looked away; trying not to let her see through his eyes what he was planning all along.
"My child, she is gone. When shall you ever accept?"
He absentmindedly picked a rose, pricking two of his fingers as blood came out in drops of red.
"She is alive, Margaret, can't you see?"
"No." she replied firmly while shaking her head.
"She is. She is. She is."
Margaret pulled him to face her as she reached her hands to shake him off from falling into the verge of insanity.
"Eriol, please listen. Sophia is dead. She sacrificed her life that the feud would end. But you always thought of revenge, child. And revenge won't take her back. It won't."
Tears.
"B-but Tomoyo…"
"Tomoyo? She may look like her but she is a completely different person with a different life. Move on, child. Look what the past has done. Lives were wasted and you suffer."
She wiped away his tears and he hugged him for comfort like what she usually did when he awoke in the middle of the night after being plagued with nightmares during his younger days. She was more like a mother to him but after Sophia died, he became rude, unfeeling and cruel that he forgot her presence and treated her harshly as if she was an inferior life form and an object of disgust.
"Eriol…if you would love, do not love because you pity or because she reminded you of a past that can never be dug out from the deep grounds of time."
He moved away from her comfort and gave Tomoyo a long stare, as if understanding her nature and her soul. Margaret's words shook his brain and he tried to grasp every word she uttered with great smartness:
"Do not shy away from whatever fate has laid upon you."
"Love again."
"Do not hurt her."
"Forget and be loved."
"Love her."
Somehow, she did make sense.
He had loved Sophia too much that he forgot to love others. He had been too selfish that he forgot to care.
He wiped away his tears and allowed himself to hide and just observe Tomoyo's movements. He clearly remembered her lavender-vanilla scent from last night and something tugged from within the depths of his heart.
"I'm sorry, Tomoyo, but I cannot love you."
Once again, as if something was forcing him to remember, he thought of the warmth that exuded from her tiny frame as she held him tight for comfort last night.
…And then again, something twitched from within.
"I couldn't." He shook his head and continued to watch her.
"I mustn't…" His fist balled up as an image of a person he vowed to kill streaked his mind and vengeance took over him.
"Fall…"
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He stared at the blank work in front of him. Looking for inspiration, he resorted to deep thinking.
But no matter how hard he tried to think of something else to weave, she always came to picture.
He dipped his brush into the black ink and blended a bit of violet, which was overpowered by the darkness of black.
He traced an outline of a perfect face with those beautiful eyes he had always dreamed of and her luscious lips he longed to kiss.
He artistically applied color to the woman's hair and continued with the rest of the face.
He memorized her every feature, since the night he had laid eyes on her.
He painted that night.
Trees here, trees there and to finish off, he placed two shadows behind a large tree.
He examined his work and noticed a figure beside him in the portrait.
Anger consumed him once again and he tightened his grip around the paintbrush. He stood up and scattered the rest of the paint, throwing ink around the art room hysterically.
"Eriol, you damn bastard."
He remembered once again.
He had loved her. Only her.
But he took her away: his very best friend whom he vowed to kill the very day he knew she died. He took her completely away, not even having seen the last remains of the woman who was about to be his wife.
He loathed him: him who betrayed his trust and friendship.
Theodore knew the truth and how did he rejoice at their misfortune. But he still intruded, not wanting his prized possession to leave his side.
"The moron."
He dipped the brush in red ink and scattered it all over the portrait, most specifically over the figure beside him, peering from the trees.
"If the idiot didn't declare a war, Sophia must've been mine. She wouldn't have killed herself."
Screaming at the top of his lungs in anger, he threw the paint over the portrait as it soaked in red.
"I shall find Sophia. She is still alive. That bastard is just keeping her."
Theodore grinned evilly like a crazed lunatic.
"Yes, my dear Sophia. You are still alive."
His eyes moved around the countless paintings he did for her that hung in the wall, some had streaks of red and other colors.
"And Eriol shall die. Die. DIE."
He grinned some more.
"Wait for me, my love."
He moved closer towards a portrait and kissed the figure, losing much of his sanity and uprightness. From soft eyes, he changed like a chameleon to a vengeful maniac; his eyes sketched revenge and burned in fury.
"Watch out, Eriol. I shall kill you, I swear."
**I'm afraid, this story is nearing its end. There would be at least 5 chapters more and I'm still thinking if a sequel would be done.
Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to those to always read this and my works especially KyteAura-chan, who uplifts my spirits and constantly flood my deadjournal comments page.
The whole fic, however is inspired by my best-est best friend who must be very proud of me since I won 4th in Badminton. Weee…
Anyway, please drop a review and leave your e-mail for new chapter notification. Please do state also if I would add you to my official mailing list, wherein you would receive updates if I have a new story up.
Also, please do check out my one-shot Seasons, it's an ExT, btw (see profile). And you might also want to check out my dj. I'll be working on blogger…soon.
Ja ne!
http://www.deadjournal.com/~realmofdreams