'Yeah, it was boring. Drop-dead boring. Rather fly-away-and-la-la-la boring.
But who could go wrong with playing lacrosse in the garden?
Well… Not when your older sister had something else in mind.
"Seriously, Allen! Why would it be crotchet, of all things!" The brat-sized, five-year old princess demanded huffily, waving her arm imperiously. She was stuffed into a puffy, fluffy, meringue-y shaped dress of extremely fine quality, and dotted with crystal beads along the hemline in an artistic, haphazard sort of way. Allen had given up counting the beads half an hour ago. "I hate it! It reminds me of Alice in Wonderland!" She kicked the ironically flamingo-shaped crotchet stick and a prickly crotchet ball aside. She sighed in disgust. "And we don't even have proper goals to hit the balls into!"
The sun showered its rays down on her, turning the grass around her bright and green, their dew-dropped topped leaves nodding under the weight of the dew, and the whole garden full of healthy, majestic trees basking in the splendour of their remarkable size and height. The sapphire sky outlined the blindingly white, sheep-like fluffy clouds, floating about. Exotic flora and fauna burst to life in dashing, bright colours. Beautiful birdsong drifted from the trees. Nearby, there were intricately arranged rows of hedges in a tight, winding maze.
Rillianne tossed her messy, unkempt head of dirty-blond hair, all ruffled and tufts of hair sticking out in the wrong place, and glanced at Allen, nostrils flaring, as if he were a lowly prisoner who ate cute, innocent babies for lunch, and not one of the people closest to her. "Well?"
Allen looked up from thick strands of wild flowers and weeds clumped together in his grubby hands, his mind violently jerked from a wandering daydream to reality, to stare at her with his blinking baby-blues. "H-huh?"
She clucked her tongue in disapproval, all thoughts of crotchet erased. "I can't believe you're my b-b…p-p-p-bra-bra…" She twisted her face into a look of concentration. "P-p-p-bra-pra-prrraaa—"
"Prada?" Offered Allen helpfully. "You've always liked Mister Prada's dress boutique downtown, Rillianne." This broke her concentration on pronouncing the word, and she glared at him balefully, narrowing her eyes in a fit of childish anger.
"Don't call me 'Rillianne'! I'm PRINCESS Rillianne! Idiot!" Rillianne pulled at Allen's perfectly combed and neatly tied ponytail, identical to hues of her own. It didn't hurt at all, but just to humour Rillianne, Allen scrunched his face in an expression which Mother fondly called, 'Constipated'.
"Ow," he said tonelessly. "Please stop."
Looking satisfied and pleased with herself, Rillianne grinned coyly and craftily. "No!"
"I'll give you the last piece of brioche, during dessert."
"No!"
"All Hallow's Eve candy? Including the caramel bites. You know you like that one,"
Allen wheedled slowly, trying to entice Rillianne in the delightful preposition she had in her hands. "Every. One. Of. Them." He cocked his head up at her.
"Mmmm…" Rillianne hummed to herself. "Really…"
Truth was, Allen could have easily forced her to get her hands off his hair, but he decided to play along. Just for fun. She was fun when they played. If he did that, she would throw a tantrum and sulk for hours until Mother punished him to do something undesirable. Like listening to Father drone on and on about Politics. He had to tread carefully, now.
"No."
"Then what do you want me to do?" Allen mock-pleaded. "My princess, my Highness, please release me, your humble, loyal servant who rushes to your aid when you meet dire consequences. I'll bow to your feet to the very end. I'll be there to the very end. I—" Allen had heard these sentences being repeated many times before, tumbling in a flurry from the mouth of actors that played the knight in plays, to the actress, their princess.
He stopped. Rillianne had loosened her grip on his hair, and was looking at him in a strange sort of way. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, and her eyes glimmered with…with… a weird, twisted delight.
"Ri—Rillianne?" He stammered, forgetting her decree that he address her formally. "What is it—"
She cut him off, staring intently at him. "Say that again."
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me. You know, the part where you said ' "You're my princess…" ' You know, that," She exclaimed impatiently. "Say it."
"Later."
"No!"
"Okay, okay…" Allen felt creeped out. "Don't look at me like some mental patient."
"I am NOT one!"
"Okay, okay! Don't start bawling at me!" Allen took a deep breath and rocked back on his knees.
He closed his eyes.
The sharp, sweet tang of the citrus fruit he had eaten for dessert earlier was no longer in his mouth. Darkness clouded his eyes. He placed his right hand on his heart. He opened his mouth.
"I… Allen of Lucifenia, pledge my services to the great and worthy Rillianne Lucifen d' Autriche," He cried in a voice that rang out majestically throughout the garden. "My princess, my Highness, I am your humble, loyal servant who rushes to your aid when you meet dire consequences. I'll bow to your feet to the very end. I'll be there to the very end. I will always be," He took a breath, pausing dramatically.
"Yours."
He opened an eye.
Rillianne stared down at him, expressionless. "Forever."
"Forever?"
"Yeah. Forever."
He didn't ask why, but he just smiled.
She's so cute… She wants everything from me…
"Okay. Forever."
Rillianne promptly let loose a waterfall of giggles, bubbling forth from her pink, plump, softly curved lips. They echoed in the emptiness of their own abode of Nature. "That's good!"
She squealed in delight and ran to Allen, squeezing him tight around the waist. "I'm so glad! I get to ride 'Horsey' on you! Forever! Ahahaha!"
Allen smiled with satisfaction. She could have been his older sister, but sometimes, he felt like the oldest.
Meanwhile, a figure watching from a window from a tall tower nearby turned away.
It hurt. So badly.
The figure turned to a tall, strapping man with golden blond hair behind her.
"Leonhart," she addressed him warmly, the frown on her face breaking into a tired, forced smile. "Thank goodness you're here."
The man knelt on one knee. "M' lady," he greeted her in a gruff, gravelly voice. His eyes shone kindly through a mop of hair that fell over his forehead. Without waiting for the woman to continue, he asked, "What happens now?"
Silence. Ghastly, spirit-crushing, deadly silence.
"I…don't…know." Her voice cracked with a quiet hint of despair. She dropped the smile.
Without warning, rivulets of salty, wet and warm drop spilled forth from the once sparkling orbs of sharp, baby blue. They ran over her soft, dimpled cheeks, and finally sinking into the soft, silky scoop of her dress's collar.
She sobbed silently, drawing in ragged breaths violently. Her entire body heaved, and she trembled.
Leonhart, the man, watched her, with despair sinking into his heart. It was terrible to see the once regal lady, whose eyes shone and held her head high for a public to watch, breaking down into a mess.
"Queen Anne…" he whispered. He sank to his knees. "Please. Our country needs you. You must be strong!"
She broke into a wail that could only heard by those with her, thankfully. "You ask me to be strong, when I just want to be s-s-sad?" Her voice was choked, and she spat the words out with much difficulty. "Leonhart-t-t," she hiccupped. "Als is fading a-a-a-w-way!" She grasped at his arm, her fingers scrabbling for a grip. "He's going…He'll be gone soon…Oh…" She gave a moan of sadness and hopelessness. "I don't know what to do. I'll miss him s-s-so much! And…and…" She swallowed tearfully. "Once Als falls, the country will too! Without a ruler, Asmodean will move in for the kill!"
"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" demanded Leonhart forcefully. He raised his voice. "Lucifenia has you! And your Rillianne and Allen! Stay strong for them! They still have you!"
At the mention of Rillianne and Allen, the tears fell even more savagely, faster and more came, dripping onto the floor with soft 'plinks'.
"I know," she moaned balefully, wringing her hands. "The little babes! I l-l-love them s-s-so much…" She hissed in sadness. "But I'll have to leave them soon… They'll have no father, no mother… I'm such a—a-a selfish pig!"
"What do you mean?" Leonhart shook her hard. God, this queen was raving delirious! Where were her senses? "Your Majesty! Please!"
"I'll show you! You won't understand until I do!" She snatched her hand away from his grip, and held it up in the sunlight. Slowly, she slid the long sleeve away…to…reveal…
Leonhart recoiled in fear and revulsion. "The Plague," He rasped.
"That's right," smiled Anne sadly, as if already submitting to her fate. Tiny red and black spots dotted her arms in horrifying amounts. They were huge, numerous in quantity. "I got this from poor Als, while nursing him at his sickbed-" She gave a dry, humourless laugh. "Or should I say- deathbed."
She slowly lapsed into thoughtful silence, leaving the Plague-ravaged arm uncovered.
"We just have to wait… and see what Fate condemns us to." She said heavily, with bated breath. "What a show," She muttered darkly, chuckling even a little, as if it were a joke. "And Rillianne…and Allen…" She broke into quiet sobs again, and hunched over in grief.
Leonhart watched her.
Please…don't despair…I'll find a way…to save them…
Surely, there was hope?
The suddenly grey-coloured skies that hid away the Sun gave no answer, a requiem to their oncoming dilemma. Not at trace of cheerfulness was left in the sky.