Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-Man, nor do I own the story of Cinderella. All of the characters belong to Katsura Hoshino. Please Read and Review!
-Chapter Two: Allen-
"One who understands much displays a greater simplicity of character than one who understands little." ~Alexander Chase
Somewhere in the large castle of the Black Order Kingdom, a 15 year old boy stood in front of a richly decorated cherry wood desk, and the red haired man sitting behind it.
The boy's hair was as white as snow, and hung at medium length, parted on each side of his face. His porcelain face was marred by an unusual red scar that started as a pentagram above his left eyebrow, and from it's upside down point a thin line went through his eyelid, and hooked on his cheekbone before running down the rest of his face to his chin, with an extra line of scarred tissue parallel to the bottom of his eyelid. He had a fairly muscular physique, but it was hidden under his clothes. His silver eyes seemed to sparkle with kindness. The boy wore a white dress shirt underneath a black vest, and underneath his black slacks, he wore dark knee high boots that were zippered as high as possible. His hands were hidden by white velvet gloves. His voice was always had a calming effect to whoever listened to it.
"Sir," the boy began, but before he could continue, the red haired man rudely interrupted him.
"Allen, how can you explain yourself?! You threw two of my wine bottles down a well! What were you thinking Idiot Prince?"
The red haired man's face was half concealed by a white mask on his right, and had a goatee as red as his tomato colored hair. The man wore a black coat with gold lining and buttons, a short hat that had a wide brim hid his molten gold eyes, and brass glasses. His tone revealed the frustration that his eyes could not.
The white haired youth, Allen, mumbled in reply, "Alcohol is unhealthy for you Sir. If you take better care of yourself as king, the kingdom will be in a better condition."
"My affairs have nothing to do with you or the kingdom, and if I didn't take care of you when your foster father died, you would still be on the streets or even dead by now! Show some respect, and mind your own business!" The man growled something under his breath about being thankful that the idiot prince didn't get rid of any of his better quality wines before continuing, "As punishment, you will pay me for what you have thrown down the well, and that ball I was telling you about earlier will be scheduled in about two weeks or so."
Allen glared at the king, his silver eyes flashing, but he made no further comment than, "Am I dismissed?"
The red haired man only sighed, putting his head in his hands before telling Allen, "Yes, you are dismissed"
Allen immediately walked out of the room and down an ornate marble hallway before knocking on a large maple door and entered another room.
"Hey Komui, are you available right now?" In response to the boy's question, a man's tired cry came from underneath a large mountain of papers stacked on another cherry wood desk.
"Yes, I'm always available Prince!" Allen rushed over to the desk, and started unburying a Chinese man no older than 28.
"Komui, you know that I prefer being called Allen, rather than 'Prince'." He gently chided Komui as the youth proceeded to rescue his elder.
The man made no comment until he gasped for breath.
"Sorry Allen, I just prefer formalities." Komui paused for a second before continuing, his curiosity was reflected in his dark eyes. "Anyway, what are you doing here right now? You typically come here around noon, not in the early morning."
Alas, it was only 7:30 in the morning, since Cross immediately dragged Allen out of bed once he discovered what had happened.
The tired 15 year old examined the floor as if it was the most interesting thing next to his winged golden ball-like golem named Timcampi. "Um," Allen chuckled to himself in an embarrassed tone. "I threw some of Cross' wine bottles down that well in the courtyard, and I have to pay him back. I need to be able to escape from the castle in order to earn the money back." Komui sighed, knowing all too well how Allen despised his guardian's behavior towards alcohol, and Cross' possessiveness of it.
"Well Allen, you could just take a potion that I made that would disguise you, that will get you out of the castle, but I would recomend bringing a hooded cloak for when the potion wears off."
The boy shrugged, understanding that he would have to be discreet in order to not attract any attention. "That's fine, is there anything else?"
Komui nodded, "Could I come with you?" Allen glanced at the scientist questioningly as the man continued, "I have not seen my little sister since she was seven, and by now she would be 16 years old, please let me see if I could find her!" The boy sighed, "Of course you can Komui, I have no problem with that." The boy continued, "Do you want to leave now?"
The scientist nodded once again, but in agreement, "The sooner we can leave the better, let me just grab my cloak and the potion." With that, he hurried towards the back of the great room.
The scientist reappeared 15 minutes later wearing a hooded cloak as black as night that brushed the ground with each step he took, and held a thick liquid that took the hue of warm milk chocolate and was contained in a test tube.
"Here," Komui handed the test tube to Allen, "This will change your hair color and hide your scar, which should be enough to smuggle you out of the castle as long as you wear your gloves. It will last about 2 hours, so be cautious about your time." Allen smiled slightly, showing Komui that he heard him, and drained the test tube in a single gulp.
The boy felt a strange wave of warmth in his stomach that rose to his face and scalp. Allen though, was not alarmed, he knew that Komui was careful with each potion, carefully writing down each effect, and even side effects... or at least his assistant Reever did. As soon as it came, the warmth disappeared, leaving Allen feeling like nothing happened.
"Did it work?" The boy asked.
"See for yourself" The man winked while he handed Allen a hand mirror.
The boy gasped at the mirror's reflection as tears of joy threatened to fall. "Oh Komui," The boy's reflection no longer showed a scared white haired youth, but rather a 15 year old brunette whose hair took on a warm brown hue, there was no scar on his face either. It was an older version of the original Allen, the Allen who had traveled with Mana before the carriage accident, the Allen before his original foster father had passed away. Allen even half expected Mana to be in the background of the boy's reflection, even though he knew it was impossible. "Thank you..." the boy whispered.
Komui was taken aback by the boy's reaction, there was no reason to shed tears in his own opinion, but he had read some of Allen's profile and learned that his hair color had not always been white, and he did not always have that scar. Komui realized that Allen must have used to look like the boy who was before him. His eyes widened in surprise as he suddenly understood why Allen was on the verge of tears, this would have been what he would look like if his foster father had never died.
Komui cleared his throat, "Hey Allen, we need to get going if we want to get out of the castle."
"Hn? Oh right, sorry about that." The boy bowed his head in apology and dashed out of the room, "Let me just grab my cloak!" Komui just shook his head knowingly before jogging behind the youth.
~~X~~
Allen hid his face under his dark cloak's hood as he entered the smokey room of a low-lighted pub. 'Time to earn back that money' the boy thought to himself as he pulled up a chair at a gambling table. Whispers filled the pub as the boy pulled out his deck of cards and started to shuffle them like an expert.
"It's him!" One man whispered.
"The Faceless Joker!" Another hissed to his companion.
"Isn't he called that because he always wears a hooded cloak that hides his face?" Someone asked
"Yeah," Another replied, "I 'ear that no one knows what 'e looks like 'neath that 'ood 'o 'is."
"He never loses a single game, I heard." A man murmured to the others.
"I pity the poor soul he will beat next."
The whispers continued, but Allen ignored them while he quietly waited for a challenger. There was always a man who thought he could cheat a professional, he would only be the first of many. It always happened like that, and sure enough a red haired youth who sat beside an older man walked up to Allen.
"May I have the pleasure in playing against you?" He asked as he winked his left emerald eye, the other was hidden under a black eyepatch. The man looked no older than 18, and wore a sage colored poncho with a tan scarf tied around his neck along with tight white pants that clung to his muscular legs as well as black boots that had several leather straps and went up to his knees.
"I don't mind," Allen answered, "I just hope that your companion doesn't mind either." The boy could see the older gentleman scrutinizing the younger red head with distaste, and judged from his body language that he didn't approve of the actions of his younger counterpart.
"Do you mean Panda? No, he wouldn't mind, he just doesn't like me to gamble that's all." Allen could almost see the older man, who the red head called Panda, physically restrain himself from kicking his younger companion.
"Ah, I see." Allen nodded to himself, "Let us begin!"
~~X~~
Allen had played twelve rounds of poker with the red head, and won all of them. By the thirteenth round the red head was sweating profusely in agitation, nervousness, and probable fear from the man he had called Panda. Panda on the other hand, was glaring daggers at the red head as he continued to lose every round. Just before the fourteenth round began, the older gentleman stomped over to his younger counterpart and hissed harshly in his ear, "Idiot Lavi, you are wasting all of our money. You should not continue the next round." The man then turned to Allen, "I'm sorry about my pupil's rash behavior, and having to take him away so soon."
"It's fine," Allen held up his gloved hands, waving them in disregard. "I am not bothered by either behavior."
The older man nodded in understanding. "Oh young sir," the man asked, "Do you know where the castle entrance is?"
Allen started to sweat in nervousness under his hood, but his voice remained steady. "Yes sir, all you have to do is follow the main road, and it should lead you right to the castle."
The older man held out his hand, "Thank you for your understanding, I am known by many names, but you may call me Bookman." Allen shook Bookman's hand as he continued, "The young gentleman with me is Bookman Jr. but is often called Lavi."
"It is a pleasure to meet you kind sirs." Allen graciously stood and bowed to the pair, remembering that Cross had an appointment with them sometime in the early afternoon. "You may call me the Faceless Joker."
"A pleasure indeed." The two echoed. The pair then left the bar together.
Just as the pair left, a crowd surrounded Allen and his little gambling table, exactly as the boy predicted earlier.
Round after round, game after game, opponent after opponent, Allen always won. It was when Allen decided to play his last round, when he felt the effects of the potion wear off. He could tell that he looked like his usual self without a mirror. 'At least this will be my last round' the boy thought to himself, inwardly smiling at how easy he won the money to pay back Cross. He then truly ginned as he laid out his cards for the last time for the day.
"Royal Straight Flush!"
-Chapter Two End-
A/N: So the stage is set... Let the action begin *Wink*! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this!
By the way, the one person in the bar who was not speaking with proper grammar is supposed to be a peasent, stressing the fact that people of all social statuses were in the gambling pub.