Once upon a time, there was a princess. She was very beautiful. Or so she was told, because she was never allowed to look into a mirror. Sometimes she was sure that she, in fact, must be very ugly, or else there would be no need of the assurances that she was beautiful. She actually was, but she didn't know that. Her bewitching blue eyes could see everything except themselves.
She was kept locked away in the farthest reaches of the palace, for petty reasons. Her blood was not pure, the nobles complained. Though the daughter of the emperor's son, her mother was only a simple seamstress. They say that she wove enchantments into cloth, and all who wore those garments brought ill fortune upon themselves. It was rumored that the princess's mother had been a witch, a witch that ensnared the heart of the prince with usage of a diabolo's power, a witch that may have passed her twisted genes onto her daughter before dying during childbirth. The peasants called the princess, "The Forgotten Noble", for she was never allowed into the public eye.
There was one peasant, in particular, that refused to forget. His name was Niwa Hino. Niwa Hino was the son of a great warrior, and had been taught all his life to be brave. He knew no other way than to be brave, though at times he wondered if he was actually very cowardly. And it was this man that, when his family was invited guest into the emperor's palace for petty reasons, slipped past the guards of the forbidden corridor and entered the princess's chambers.
She turned to him, and smiled. Her eyes were bright as the jewels of the north wind, her pastel blue mane fell around her hips in waves like the cloak of the moon maiden. She was beautiful, and he could not help himself. Words failed, and lips brushed lips, and rugged fingers tenderly traced the bony outlines of fragile hands. It was night, and the world was young again, the new moon finding it easy to forgive.
Elegant white fingers stroked skin below the skull, found the junction of neck bone and spine. A purr, and the Niwa relaxed into her touch, needed her touch. Tender nails cut grooves into flesh. Loving hands tightened slightly as they clutched bone through skin.
Crack.
The Niwa relaxed further. So very relaxed. Almost limp. Quite limp, in fact.
Seashell lips curved into a tender smile. She lowered him to the floor, and hoped he wouldn't mind how cold its surface was. Kneeling, the princess bestowed a final kiss to his lips, which were gradually gaining an indigo hue. A quick pink tongue darted out as she pulled away, wetting her mouth thoughtfully.
She was cold.
Long white fingers flexed open, curled closed. They were splotched with crimson, and oddly warm. The princess reached to a table a few feet away, a table above which a mirror might have gone, and picked up the flute that rested there. She lifted it to her trembling lips, and began to play.
That was how the nobles found them, an hour later. Niwa Hino, sprawled below the dresser, his neck skillfully broken at the nape. And Hikari Takara, still perched on a chair before the window, dead lips stretched into a contented smile.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o And they lived happily after ever… 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Author's Note: Entirely non-canon. Basically symbolic of the entire Hikari-Niwa connection. I apologize for the lack of Official DNAngel University Of Fan Fiction updates; I'll get around to it someday. Please review.