Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance

By: KitKat411

Author's Notes: Hey ya'll. Sorry for the non-updating-ness. I have a lot going on at school right now…history debates, physics reflection project, a "poet-tree" to grow…GAH. I hate freshman year, and apparently, it's only going to get worse next year.

But that isn't the only reason for the lack of updates. A guy I know-who shall remain anonymous- told me about something called "Death Note." I, not having the slightest idea what he was talking about, googled it, found out it was an anime, and began watching it.

That was on a Wednesday. Today is Saturday, May 05, 2007,-Cinco de Mayo!- and I'm ALL CAUGHT UP WITH "DEATH NOTE." If you don't know what "Death Note" is, DON'T GOOGLE IT. LIKE FACEBOOK AND FANFICTION, "DEATH NOTE" IS VERY ADDICTIVE. So…that's the other-more truthful-reason behind the non-updates. I have officially become a "Death Note" addict.

But it's very hard not to become one, you see. There's a guy named L, yes, just "L," and he's so pretty. Aww! I want to give him a hug. Here's a picture: If this doesn't work, just google "Death Note: L" and it'll come up.

But now I have-somewhat-slowed down the addiction. So here ya'll go, the third chapter!

Oh, and that "slowing down" of the addiction is crap. L is quickly growing to be my "Number One Emo Lover Who Does Not Actually Exist." He's almost-GASP!-surpassed Edgey for this title.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

However, there was one flaw in the princess's impeccable logic:

She had a knight in shining armor.

And as the years went by, the princess and the knight grew even closer together. United in their hatred-and slight respect-of the dragon and their longing for freedom, the beautiful princess and the-very manly-knight spent many happy nights together. They would sit in the tower's hidden room, talking and trying to laugh at their pathetic living conditions.

But the princess-relieved as she was at having a knight in shining armor-was still slightly disappointment. Her knight wasn't much of a knight, to be honest. He didn't come into her life and sweep her off her feet. He didn't protect her from the wrath of the dragon. He didn't even try to slay the dragon.

But most of all?

The knight never fell madly in love with her.

And they would never live happily ever after.

"Miles. You got this wrong again. How are you ever supposed to per the perfect prosecutor if you can not even seem to remember the Miranda rights?"

Miles Edgeworth looked up and stared at the seven-year-old Franziska, who was glaring at him severely, her slightly pudgy hands placed on her hips. He smiled at her glaring look. "Well, Franziska," he said, and laughed slightly, "I guess I will never be as perfect as you. Now that we have made this stunning realization, would you like to stop this pointless exercise?"

Franziska's eyes narrowed. "And do what?"

Miles looked slightly amused. "Well, why don't we have a mock trial? I can practice my Miranda rights."

Franziska gave a short laugh. "Fine, Miles Edgeworth. But be warned: I will prosecute you into the ground. Your age is no match for my perfection."

Miles's amused expression grew slightly. It wasn't often that Franziska admitted she was seven years younger than him. Most of the time Franziska sounded his age-fourteen-and sometimes, she sounded even older than Miles. "Oh no you won't, Franziska. We'll have a trial, yes, but you shall not prosecute."

Franziska stared at him blankly. "Excuse me, Miles. I believe my ears weren't working. I thought you said that I couldn't prosecute."

Miles nodded. "You are going to learn how the "other half" lives, Franziska. You can defend."

"NO! I won't!" Franziska didn't know if she really did not want to defend or she just didn't want to give into Miles's demands. Anyway, she was losing her temper over this, something she did exceptionally rarely.

Miles looked at her blankly. "Yes, Franziska. Yes, you will be a defense attorney. Prepare your case."

Franziska grumbled a little more, but eventually gave in. I will beat him. She thought to herself. I will beat him, and be perfect defense attorney. Then he will eat his words, the foolish fool.

And so they began the "trial." They decided that the defendant's name was Ryuuzaki-Yes, my obsession for "Death Note" is apparent- and that he was accused of killing his dog, Pesu.

At the sound of the victim's name, Franziska sulked. She wanted Ryuuzaki to be a mass murderer at least, but Miles reminded her that getting a "not guilty" verdict for a dog killing was much easier than a "not guilty" verdict for a killing spree. "After all," Miles chided her, "defending a mass murderer is nearly impossible. Work your way up to defending the mass murderers, Franziska. For now, defend poor Ryuuzaki. He didn't kill Pesu, did he?"

Franziska scowled. "Fine. But why Pesu can not be a six-year-old child is still beyond me."

"Your Honor," Miles said, speaking to the imaginary judge and interrupting Franziska's complaints, "the prosecution is ready to begin."

"Your Honor, the dense is ready also. As always."

"The prosecution with prove the guilt of Mr. Ryuuzaki in the murder of Pesu. The dog was brutally beaten with his dog bowl, and death was slow and painful."

"OBJECTION!" Franziska yelled. "Your Honor, in the autopsy report, Pesu was killed by poison."

"OBJECTION! Franziska, you just made that up! Your Honor, the autopsy report shows a death by beating."

"OBJECTION! Your Honor, the prosecution lacks sufficient evidence to back up their claim! No such autopsy report has been submitted into the Court Record!"

Miles's face clouded over in anger. "You expect me to submit evidence?"

Franziska raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Of course, little brother. Why, are you afraid of losing?"

Miles shook his head, smirking. "No, not afraid of losing." He shrugged. "To be honest, I was thinking only of your feelings."

"You were being honest? 'To be honest', Miles?" Franziska laughed. "Miles, you have never been honest in your life."

"Fine, then." Miles said. "Your Honor, the autopsy report. As you can plainly see, the bruises are evident. Also, the murder weapon: The dog bowl. It was used to beat Pesu, and it is covered with Mr. Ryuuzaki's fingerprints." He looked at Franziska, and his smirk grew tenfold. "Does the defense have a rebuttal, or can we put an end to this pointless show?"
And so they were off. Miles came up with more and more evidence, and Franziska argued them back. Miles showed up with witnesses to badger, and Franziska cross-examined the cardboard cut-outs. Thee arguments quickly grew more harried, the objections grew louder, and the tension grew so high that Franziska finally ripped apart he cardboard cut-out because it wouldn't give her a sufficient response.

The judge finally began to give out the imaginary ruling when the trial was interrupted by a loud…

"OBJECTION!"

Manfred von Karma stormed into the room. He swept his large eyes across the pieces of cardboard, desks with dents from hands slamming on them, and the sweaty, disheveled faces of his "children."

"What. Is. This." The three words, spoken slowly and deliberately, carried more power and fear than the objection. Franziska and Miles looked at each other, than almost at once at the floor, their faces burning with shame.

"Manfred, we were acting out a trial." Miles's words were soft and apologetic.

"But what is with this mess?"" Manfred von Karma seemed to be addressing the room at large instead of his teenaged son. "A perfect prosecutor does not need to scream and shout. You are not phoenixes, children. You do not need to have your arguments die and return to life, grasping at straws.

Miles finally looked up. "Manfred, I tried. However, the defense came up with several good points. Franziska, your very own daughter, made many fine arguments."

"My daughter…Franziska…you were a defense attorney? My perfect…FRANZISKA?!?!?"

Franziska's stomach dropped, an intense feeling of dread spreading throughout her body. He father hardly ever was flustered, but obviously the realization that his heir was a defense attorney-and liking it-was enough to drive the perfect prosecutor over the edge.

Franziska gulped quietly. She had a horrible feeling of what was sure to come next.

"Miles, please leave the room and return to your own now. Franziska and I need to have a little talk."

"Yes Manfred." And as Miles left, the seven-year-old watched her champion, her protector, her little brother leave. He hadn't even put up a fight, or tried to speak on her behalf. Instead, he had just left her. He had left her behind to deal with Manfred von Karma, with the monster, all on her own.

And as Manfred von Karma slowly approached her, Franziska closed her eyes, willing for this part- the anger, the lecture, and the inevitable striking- to be over. Miles…Franziska whispered in fear. Miles…why didn't you help me? You know how he hated defense attorneys, Miles! You knew what he would do to me, Miles. You know how angry he gets, and how his anger needs to be taken out on something…or someone. Why did you tell him that I was the defense? Why, Miles, why? Why didn't you save me, Miles? Why didn't you sweep me off my feet and carry me to safety?

Later that evening, Franziska again applied the antiseptic and Band-Aids to her arms. But thinking about the words shouted at her…the words about disappointing her father, ruining her reputation, and the betrayal of the family name…those words could not be covered by a Band-Aid. Some wounds just couldn't be healed.

All of the sudden Franziska's door opened, and Miles walked in. Speaking of betrayals…

"What do you want now?" She asked him, her voice filled with venom and malice.

"I wanted to see if you were all right." The words seemed sincere, but they weren't the words Franziska wanted to hear.

"Miles, just get out." She told him, her voice cold and harsh. "You knew that telling Father about our game would get him angry. You knew that telling Father that I was a defense attorney would get him angry, angrier than ever before. We von Karmas are not defense attorneys, Miles! You should have known that! It's a show of disloyalty to even think of being anything but a perfect prosecutor! You should have known that, Miles!

And then you walked away, giving up without a fight. You didn't even think of the repercussions of your actions, Miles. You didn't think that Father would take his anger, frustration, and disappointment out on me. All you wanted to do was save your own life.

So no, Miles, I'm not all right. I'm hurt by my father's words and slaps and disgusted by my brother's actions.

Just get out, Miles. Just get out."

And so Miles did get out. He left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

And after that, a heartbroken Franziska cried herself to sleep.