Aisubeki Dearest
A/N: I wanted to take a break from the comedy I just finished, and do an OC fic concerning Marco…Yes, I do bash Marco quite a lot, and I pair him with Lyserg, whom I also like with Jeanne, and Ren…ah, so confusing. This is rather serious, and it's romantic as well! Yay! This story is dedicated to KagenoKatana, sakuuya, and Satine89! You are the best!! I hope one of you reads this! Well, enjoy the story, and it may be a tearjerker in the end…gloom
PS: "Aisubeki" means "dearest" in Japanese, this word has a lot of meaning to the main character, Elle, and it shall be explained later on…moreover, if you are wondering why Kye is speaking a bit of Japanese to Elle, it is because he is teaching his little "French Tenshi." - Subarashiki, ne??? (Kye will be introduced later on -) …umm—If you want to know their entire story, read the Authoress Note at the end, it shall explain some things…such as the Japanese! - Stay tuned, meh friends! Or..flamers! DIE FLAMERS!!!
A/N: In this fic, I am pretending that Jeanne is somewhere around 20 years old, and Marco stays however old he is, ok? And if you were wondering, Elle is 23 and Kye is somewhere around 25 - Funny how age works, ne?
Disclaimer: I do not own SK, if I did, it would be ruined, because I am not gifted like Takei-sama.
Chapter Six: Illusory Happiness
Standing in her doorway, was Jeanne! Iron Maiden Jeanne! Her younger sister, who was supposed to be in France!
"Jeanne?!" Elle said, lifting herself off of the ground and walking over to Jeanne.
She nodded, "Yes, hello Elle…" and with a rather disdainful pause, she added, "And…I don't think I've met him, though he smells of blood, doesn't he?"
Elle felt as if she had been frozen, 'blood?' she thought, why would he smell like 'blood'?
And suddenly she remembered, she remembered the day he had murdered, the day he had committed the most irreversible sin…and she had still loved him. She still did love him! And she couldn't even tell if he were alive! But Jeanne could see him…
'Oh god no…' Elle thought, panicking inside, though attempting a casual demeanor externally, 'What if she knows….what if she knows about him…' suddenly, she thought of something much worse.
'What if she knows about me…'
With a rather jerky movement, she gestured toward the velvet chair, not accustomed to being a hostess in any manner whatsoever, and said, shakily, "Please…sister, sit down…"
Jeanne looked at her sister, and wondered why she was so rather worried…she had only come in response of a letter, and from the desperate need for a bit of fresh air….of course, in her urgency to greet Elle, she may have somewhat ruined a rendevous of some sort….but then again, she had stopped a sin in progress, so, with a sense of complacency, and confusion, sat upon the soft chair, and made herself at hoem as politely as she could.
Elle turned around hastily, "Oh! Let me get you two some tea! Is that Monsieur Marco, I presume? Nice to meet you, it is truly my honor though I don't agree with your organization…excuse me!" breaking into a run, she sprinted into the kitchen, labouriously breathing, and as she disappeared into the room, both Marco and Jeanne were certain she had broken some sort of china.
And she had, they saw, as she came into the livingroom with a handsome snack and tea platter, but with some rather deep nicks in her arm.
The dark haired boy, Kye, had grown worried at her giddiness…she looked like a maid after a ten hour shift, but so youthful, and pretty…but he had never seen someone so fatigued and yet so feverishly giddy at the same time.
But that was his dearest, as unpredictable as a falling autumn leaf and then some…you could never tell where she was going, and if she indicated it in any way, it would probably be in means of that wry smile of hers.
The way she moved….how alluring!
He thought, color in his cheeks.
Kye all but slapped himself, watching Elle and her, obviously, sister, speak and catch up.
Why was he feeling like this? He knew Elle better than anyone, better than Elle knew herself! And she the same to him! However…now, after not seeing her for this long, was he filled with the renewed feelings of first love, and their first kiss? Dear god what a travesty!
Unknowingly, Elle felt the same way, stealing glances at him, and speaking the same sentences, much to Jeanne's puzzlement, like a demented wind-up toy.
"What a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive." was all she had said, in the time of one hour.
Jeanne had gone to Elle's room, exhausted and in need of sleep from the journey, and Kye, embarrassed, had fled to the dining room, alone, to do who knows what.
In actuality, he was writing a poem for Elle, though he did not fancy himself a poet.
"A night sky twice as blue…
A sunset stopped in its majesty
What a blazing display of power!
And you, the mercurial creature of fire and ice,
Dancing on the bottom of a drinking glass…"
The poor young man, frazzled, had not the same spirit as Elle, and could not flow on the words as if he were riding a wave. It required thinking for him, and that is what he did.
Meanwhile, Elle, so cruelly abandoned in the livingroom with the elegant, blonde stranger known as Marco, began to verse aloud.
"A coffin's blackness thrice the moon
And twice the petty beggar
Before the hand of a breathless spirit
Before the waves as azure
Gardens verdant, speak,
Winds, beseech
A worldly wisdom unknowing
And an hourglass impaled
And did you,
Cordially,
Imply,
That a ghost was not a feeling
And a shadow of the eyes?"
Marco listened to her in awe, and watched her pink lips move to the rhthym of her words…a poet…but not rigid…
It was as if she were walking on water.
But not walking either, that was far too generic, no, it was as if she were…
As if she were gliding on water.
Had he fallen for her, at first sight?
He surely hoped not.
He was in love with Jeanne, wasn't he?
Yes, his beautiful Iron Maiden.
He had to be in love with her.
Why?
Because that is simply the way his mind worked.
You serve her, you love her….you never cease.
It's against his laws.
His personal laws…and…
"Monsieur?"
Marco stopped, he had been adressed as "monsieur?"
Surely that was against Elle's nature.
She had said it through her teeth, it contradicted her personality, to follow social status…even customs….they meant nothing, she lived in the present, and occasionally…
In the past.
A/N: The next chappie! Jeanne and Marco talk about Elle! What are Elle's feelings about Marco's advances, because she doesn't love him! She never will, only Kye….and Kye finishes his poem for Elle, and recites it to her!