Bliss

Chapter Three: A Declaration of Revenge

Disclaimer: this is an adaptation and is based loosely on Goong; I do not own the plot or the manhwa. I also do not own the sailor moon characters or any real locations, quotes, real fashion brands, real food or buildings that might appear in this story.

This fan fiction is set in an A.U. and will not hold many similarities with the standard sailor moon anime/ manga. Personalities will remain similar but I reserve the right to be creative with my story, there are no monsters and no sailor senshi (soldiers). Also, Serena's height will be different. Please be open while you read and enjoy the story. Also keep in mind that even though the year and time may be current, the happenings in the story are different from our reality.

The bell sounded at a quarter to three, loud and crooked. The last period was over and all pending preparations by now were finished and done. It was time for the festival to begin. Serena walked – or more so – dragged her feet to the meet. Two lessons hadn't at all given her enough time to come to terms with this situation, and she had decided simply to try her best to endure it. What were two hours? Nothing. That was the right answer, but she felt certain two tedious hours spent celebrating a superfluous and undoubtedly pompous business man would be nothing short of excruciating. He would be glorified at their celebration, but for what? Suddenly donating money to them; even if there was a possible and almost undeniable motive behind the act? It seemed ridiculous; business men like the one she met that morning made it clear that the whole group of them were a selfish and inconsiderate lot, with always a motive. Despite what Mara and everyone else said Serena was still convinced the man behind all the uproar was up to something. After all, what did he stand to gain? They were poor. With little monetary supply to replace much of anything, everything was old and weathered – even the battered text books they often had to reuse looked better than the roofs of the shelters with their holes the size of rice balls. But nothing quite bested the peeling wallpapers; they would be good for five years more before they completely fell off their edges.

They would never be able to repay his gesture, and he had nothing to gain from the donation. The only question remaining was: if fully aware of their condition - as he must have been - why had he given the money? The thought plagued her for a few more steps until Serena sighed, realizing she had halted in the middle of the hallway. When she thought about all of this it got her so worked up that she almost always forgot what she was doing. It made her angry to think the planned celebrations were needless, a waste of time and a sure show of foolishness on their part. None of this should be happening.

And yet, thinking that way also made light of everyone's joined efforts today. Undermining their efforts could not be avoided if Serena chose to belittle this man; because if not to her, he at least mattered to this school. She didn't need to like him, she told herself, she just had to push through it and help where needed. No one would make her talk to the man and if nothing else, they would get to cut classes. That was a bright side. Braythorne was excellent at celebrating. They were a happy school, supportive and loving – that was what she loved most about it. Age and wealth had no business here, all that really mattered was banding together and getting through – just like they had done this morning – and just like they always would.

It was time to meet with the man who had made so many people all around her so happy. She walked quicker amongst the crowd of students and took the corner that lead out to the field, not because her mind-set had completely altered but rather, a thought had occurred. There was a candy floss machine being run today, Mara had mentioned it days before and Serena had caught sight of it being set up this morning. It made perfect sense that if she wanted one of the better shaped and sweeter ones, she would have to hurry.

He could have heard the chatter from a mile away, and saw as the considerably small soccer field swam with the faces of children. Darien stood to the side with his personal assistant – Amy Conroy – as well as two other of his general business advisors and the never-ceasing talk-show host of a man that was Mr. Lewis, the principal. So far he had heard the man gush over everything from his Armani suit – which he had gotten Amy to send along with his Gucci tie – and McQueen loafers, down to his bare essentials such as, his Lamborghini wrist watch. If Darien didn't know any better, he would have assumed the man had never seen staple designer apparel. But he did know better, and that was exactly why he assumed so.

Like this show of meaningless appreciation, he would similarly bear Mr. Lewis. Every praise and compliment from the portly man proved the time for his revenge was drawing near; everything was in place. The announcement would go as planned, and it was intended in every way to be a declaration of revenge; today he would spare the feelings of no one. Darien would go down, but not before taking a certain Serenity Jack with him, and of course with the fall, he would stab the woman responsible. Raye would see he was more than capable to replace her, and her miserable friends would realize just how pathetic she was. Who did she think she was to refuse a Column?

Having closed his emotions Darien was now focussed, coming to terms with this decision to go along with his arranged marriage could certainly hold until later, but avenging his insult would need to happen now. He had wasted enough time already; there was none left for further delay. Straightening, he felt the cries of laughter pull him from his contemplations and watched as the line-up of the senior students merged into the crowd of younger ones. Staring long at the classes, Darien told himself he was looking merely to scan in mocking the faces of these paupers, but somewhere in his heart he knew that he was wrong. It became even more apparent when he spotted her – solemn faced and approaching – Raye Helm. With her attention elsewhere she barely noticed him, and amongst the faces of her peers she seemed the most troubled. As he felt his heart wrench, Darien cursed at the feelings he still had for her; weak and bothersome, they would do naught but get in the way. Forcing himself to remember the insult from earlier, he jerked his eyes away. This was no time for weakness; he had but minutes to prepare and announce to the gathering his intended.

"It seems the students have arrived." Observed Mr. Lewis as he straightened his penguin-patterned tie, smiling. "If you'll excuse me please, Mr. Column, I must begin."

"Of course," replied Darien. He moved to let the heavy man shuffle over to the make-shift podium. The sun gleamed down and shone atop the principal's crisp bald head, making him appear twice the thirty years he actually was. He winced once at a blinding shaft dancing in his face but soon coughed, seemingly recovered.

"Students," the man said as he spoke into the microphone, "thank you for the effort on your part, this would have been impossible for any of us alone. This is teamwork at its finest!" The crowd erupted into cheers and Darien discreetly rolled his eyes, already bored with the school-spirit routine. He was thankful when the man began speaking again. "The reason for the preparations is one most all of us know. We have worked hard to offer our thanks today to Mr. Column and Column Industries for their very generous donation. Their kindness is unwarranted as it is unbelievable." He turned and gestured to Darien, grinning. "I can't say how grateful we are to you in words, but know we will never forget this gesture. I have had the fine opportunity of speaking with Mr. Column" said the principal, turning his attention back to the school, "and I have found him to be an excellent man. Please, welcome the man very much responsible, Darien Column."

They clapped for him, and Darien nodded as he slowly made his way to the platform. Mr. Lewis handed him the microphone, patted his back and bustled off. Darien felt the presence of opportunity and breathed in, knowing exactly what it signalled – the time was now.

"Thank you." He started, clearing his throat only briefly. Glancing around, he tried himself to appear impressed with what he saw, and also to avoid eye contact with the raven-haired beauty who had so earlier scorned him. He looked for something solitary and subtle to focus on, and finally settled on a small concession stand producing bags of pink floss. There was no line, only a handful of students ordering, but somehow that small set-up had caught his attention and now it steadied him. It was the distraction he needed. "Thank you," he murmured, feeling the weight of the words sit uncomfortably on his tongue but pushing on, "The donation is yours and it will always be. We at Column Industries are thrilled that you accepted it so warmly. Please, think of it as a gift and use it however you please." He gestured around them. "This celebration must have taken effort; all the planning done seems truly heartfelt. You have my appreciation."

He paused for effect just as doubting thoughts played about in his mind. If he were to be engaged, marriage naturally would follow after, and that entailed responsibility. He questioned himself if having a marriage like the one his parents had was really what he wanted, the answer to it – No – came quickly. If nothing else, Darien had always wanted affection at the very least to be involved in his decision of marriage; and yet here he was, declaring the name of a woman-child he had never met. Life indeed was unpredictable, he had never seen any of this coming. Here he stood before hundreds of students, having second thoughts when really there was no backing down. He would have to honour the Will made by his grandfather; he would have to save his empire.

He was praying for strength as he straightened, surer than ever of his motive. "I have an announcement to make." He rushed out, finally composing himself. "Call it fortunate, or perhaps, perfect timing that many of you are present here today, because you will all join in the celebration of my engagement." Darien smiled crookedly, feeling as the students and faculty held their breath. They were all waiting for the name. "My intended attends Braythorne." He said, purposefully looking at Raye then. To his satisfaction, he saw the quizzical arch of her brow and familiar confusion lit her face. "Serenity Jack," he said coolly, never once taking his eyes off her. "Please, would you meet with me up here?"

And very literally, Darien could hear the high-pitch cry of a gasp – not from Raye but from somebody else – just before the sound of school shoes running in a very opposite direction filled his senses. He strained to see past the mass of students but caught only two meatball shaped buns bop up and down as long streams of corn-golden blonde hair flew in either side of a petite body, headed in a direction far from him.

Serena resolved that the world was terribly, terribly wrong. Because she was certainly hearing things, she was hearing untrue and impossibly clear things. Her mind felt alive with the memory of that afternoon's celebration and she pushed it away, running faster yet in the direction towards her family's farm house. Scents of dirt and grain ran up to meet her as she crossed into the threshold of the farm minutes later, and she relaxed against the smells, letting them soothe some of her troubled self. Nothing made sense anymore; she needed to find her Gramps.

"Macy, not now," cried Serena, nuzzling the black spotted cow for a short moment. This was hardly time for hellos; her life never felt more of a mystery than it did now. The business of attending a school fair probably had never been as complicated as it had become today. How was she to know that whilst she stood eating away at her bag of pink floss; not only would the man from that morning's juice incident turn out to be none other than the donator – Darien Column – but he would also make the announcement that still made every fibre of her core shake. She was fiancée to the baka? She needed answers; she needed them now before the ground beneath her disappeared; before the sky peeled open and something else untoward happen.

"Gramps!" she hollered, heading for the carrot garden, his favourite place in the entire four acre plot of land. "I need you, Gramps! Where are you?" Serena called again when there was no reply. The cows were out and as per habit that meant someone had to be home. She wandered past the sheep and horses and into the part her grandfather called his own – his garden.

She stopped calling when she saw him, not meaning to disturb. Pepper and salt was the only way her grandfather's combed back hair could be described. Streaks of gray mingled into his hair of jet black, creating a wonderful contrast. Never stooped but always straight and tall, her Gramps looked well younger than his age of sixty five. Serena was so emotional she almost ran up to him, but she halted, not wanting to worry him she relaxed. There had to be a solution to this.

"Hey kiddo!" He had seen her. Now Chris Jack was straightening, already moving happily over to his granddaughter.

"Gramps!" Serena cried, closing the distance between them and enveloping him in a tight hug. She squeezed harder than she should have and he pulled away slowly, studying her face intently.

"Your home early." He stated simply, holding her by the elbows and searching her face. "That party at the school doesn't end until five, am I correct?"

"I left early." Serena answered quickly, averting her eyes.

"Something's wrong."

"How are you?" she was dodging the topic.

"I'd be far better if you told me what was wrong."

"The carrots look good."

"They're dying, Ren. They've never looked worse."

"Gramps, you sure?" she questioned, heading their way. The garden was modest but no matter the distance it was evident they were withering. As always, he had been right. "I think it's the worms," Serena started, "they're eating away at the carrots, it's funny because it isn't even the season."

She turned slowly, and looked expectantly at her grandfather for a reply; he said nothing.

"Gramps?"

"Do you trust me, Girly?" he asked, crossing his arms to his chest. She nodded. Of course she did, there was no one she trusted more. "Good." her grandfather replied in his old, smooth voice. He walked over to her but didn't speak until he had taken her comfortingly by the shoulders. "So quit playing me for a fool and tell me." He said reassuringly. "If its man-trouble, I have the shotgun ready whenever you need it, just give me the name."

"It's not that!" she cried, blushing furiously. He would do anything to protect her, and his dedication to doing so never ceased to take her by surprise. "The donor of the money announced something today and it has me more than worried. He said I was his fiancée, but other than this morning, I have never met him. His name is something Column, and he's very grumpy."

"A Column?" Her grandfather half-whispered, his eyes looked busy, as if he was far away somewhere thinking. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure; no one has stopped talking about him for weeks. Imagine the nerve, right Gramps? He donates some money and thinks he can buy me!"

"Oh I don't think that's it, sweet heart." her grandfather said slowly. "I don't think that's it at all..."

"What do you think it is, then?" she leaned in closer to listen. "He's up to more than we could ever imagine?"

Chris Jack shook his head slowly, staring off into the distance. "Not at all." He muttered. "I think it's the straight-forward honouring of a friendship, plain and simple. If that is indeed his name, then he's the one to carry out the promise made years ago, a promise I thought to be long forgotten."

Nothing he was saying made sense. Her usually very lucid grandfather seemed in a daze and she hadn't an idea what to do. "Is anyone else home?" she started to pull away, certain he needed help.

"I'm fine." Her grandfather insisted. He shook his head and life returned to his face almost instantly. "What did he look like?" Chris asked, brimming almost over with elation.

"Tall." Serena offered dryly. "He wore an expensive suit and a horrible attitude."

"Just like Timothy," he breathed, "his hair color?"

"Dark," she responded instantly not pleased at the visual image of him popping to mind but offering more of description, "he had dark blue eyes and a defined nose."

"He's a Column!" exclaimed her grandfather proudly. "Timothy's own kin, kiddo!" he paused, and knitted his eyebrows together upon noticing Serena's look of distress, "Now don't look at me that way, I have much to tell you."

And truly he did. He told her of a rare friendship born of kindness between himself and a soon-to-be prominent Seattle business man; years ago when he had been involved with the shipping industry he and Timothy had been workers on a trade ship. They both had harboured dreams to expand themselves in business but that dream had been particularly realized with his friend. While Chris had taken the money from his shipping endeavour and bought the farm, Timothy had invested his earnings. The money had grown and quickly, turned into the Column Industries it was today, but always a man of his word, Timothy hadn't changed with the expansion of his wealth. Rather, he had kept closer to his old friendships.

He and her grandfather had easily become fast friends, and while on that ship they both had grown close enough to promise to each other marriage between their grandchildren. The reason being, Chris had only one son at the time – Serena's father Dwayne – and Timothy had only Aiden. But Dwayne was married and expecting a baby girl, her. The rest seemed simple; at least until Timothy's death, after that nothing had seemed certain, everything had changed and the entire deal regarding the promise had presumably died along with his friend.

"I can't believe it." Serena whispered in disbelief.

"This is really happening!" her grandfather exclaimed, clearly more enthusiastic than her. "Has he set a date?"

"Gramps, no." She hadn't the strength to be angry; it felt as though with every passing second all of it had faded. She wasn't upset; she was tired and ultimately shocked.

"Is something upsetting you?" asked Chris, noting her unease. "I think in my excitement I forgot you girly, tell Gramps what's playing with your mind."

"How can I be engaged?"

"You were there when he announced it, am I correct?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And you heard him say your name, yes?"

"I did." she answered.

"Then you're engaged." Chris said matter-of-factly, "That there is a done deal if I ever heard of one."

"My opinion doesn't matter, does it?" gasped Serena, surprised at how at ease he was about this. "I just marry him because of a promise?"

"That is the way these things tend to go."

Serena wasn't budging; she wouldn't just get married because of some deal. She was just thinking about it and it sounded wrong, how would saying it aloud feel? She shivered, not wanting to imagine. "How could you arrange something like that; even before I was born?"

"Don't say it that way." Her grandfather insisted, "The family is good, for your marriage there could be none better."

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"When Timothy died I assumed all business regarding your marriage was over, I didn't know my friend would honour his word, even in death."

Her grandfather sounded euphorically proud and Serena bit her tongue to keep quiet. She and her Gramps were close, but she doubted from what she had heard, that he would take any insult directed towards his friend. "I need a drink," she said standing. Not bothering to dust down her skirt uniform she ran to the house, hardly breathing and just pumping her legs hard until she pressed through the door and stumbled in. Her house – like most everything else – was modest, but it was home and so very familiar. It wasn't until she had doused her face in water from the tap that she heard the conversation from the living room drift in.

The rooms were separate and insulated – when the doors were left closed and not open as they were now – from what she gathered, the people conversing obviously believed themselves to be alone, and those people were her parents. Against her better judgement, Serena strained to listen undetected. "Honey, they came again?" asked her mother, Tracy, in her characteristically worried tone of voice.

"Those loan sharks!" gritted her father as he stomped to his feet. "We borrowed a little from them but they harass us and take away all our happiness!"

She listened closer, surprised at the choice of topic. They always seemed to get by despite the meagre income garnered from the farmers market. The farm wasn't doing as well as it once had, but she hadn't ever imagined things had gotten this bad. If she wasn't hearing the conversation herself, she would have never believed it.

"How do we fix this?" her mother asked, already in tears. The sound of them falling made Serena wince, her mother never cried. But she had been wrong about a lot lately; maybe she did, just never in front of her or Sammy.

"I don't know dear." Dwayne sounded agitated, "I look for other solutions but the only way out of this seems to be agreeing to the marriage." He paused, seemingly collecting himself. "I hate the thought of giving our daughter away but it seems the only way. The way Dad used to go on about them, they sound like good people. They can take care of her, and maybe give us the money to take care of Sammy, Dad and ourselves."

"We can't ask that of her!" Tracy insisted, immediately pulling herself together. "We'll find a way other than that, we'll have to."

"Yes dear, we will." Dwayne agreed, further soothing his wife.

They continued to murmur something under their breaths and Serena moved closer until she was pressed against the wall. She peeked around the corner, spying an ornate box the size of a sweet container, but far more beautiful, sit atop her sitting room table. She had never seen anything like it before, it looked like something treasure might be hidden within and it seemed so out of place here in her humble home.

As if on cue, her mother began to speak. Serena hid herself as not to be seen but saw as her mother pointed to the box, her chin trembling. "Put it away, Dwayne, seeing it makes me feel sick. We won't use it. Take the token away, and if the secretary phones again tell her we won't do it, Serena's worth more than this."

Her father nodded, pulling her mother closer into his arms. They stayed that way a moment more and Serena watched them cry together, hushing their sobs as best they could. Finally they pulled apart, both worn out. Intertwining their hands, they left the room together, but not before her father slipped the box beneath the book shelf opening. And then they were gone.

"All my Saints, if I didn't see I would've never believed! Here I was thinking I did well by teaching you not to eavesdrop."

Serena knew the voice. She needn't guess; it was Gramps and he had followed her. "No one told me." She forced out, feeling helpless to stop any of the events from happening. Her life was turning upside down. "Why did they keep these things from me, why did you?"

"They didn't know you were there." Her grandfather answered, looking sheepishly away. "And to address the question about why; you didn't need to know."

"I have to do something."

"Like what, Girly? I know I let my excitement get the better of me back there, but I want you to know no one will force you into anything. You heard your parents, now hear me; you matter too much for us to give you away. Promises aside, this is your life and you will live it according to your own terms." He pulled her into a hug this time and she cried fully, not realizing how badly she was shaking until she was against him. This was the reality of her life and Serena let herself cry the pain out, she couldn't keep it inside anymore, she wasn't so strong.

Her family was deep in debt, that fact couldn't be clearer. Everything felt like it was slipping away and there seemed like no solution, it all looked so helpless. How could she save them?

"I'll marry him." she whispered to herself, but as the idea solidified she spoke the agreement louder. "I'm going to marry him." her grandfather pulled away and just stared at her, she had surprised him just as she had herself. Serena nodded solemnly and with that, she headed into the sitting room towards the book shelf. She slipped her hand beneath the corner it had been hidden and pulled it out, marvelling at the beauty of this small box. Opening it she removed the contents – a small gold ring – and slipped it into her pocket. If gossip was to be trusted; Darien Column would be staying at the best Hotel in town if he hadn't left already, she passed by her grandfather and hurried out the door to catch him.

She would marry the baka, but only to save her family.

From: Darien Column

To: Amy Conroy

Subject: Runaway Bride

Has news come of my bride?

He waited, idling away on his phone but feeling his attention divert. Darien, slumped in his chair, sensing again that he should have been awarded a prize for being the world's biggest fool. There was no explaining his actions that afternoon other than he had lost his composure. He had thoroughly and foolhardily jeopardized the marriage in his search for revenge. If it was to go on as he had wanted, there could have been better ways of going about it, and yet he hadn't thought at all like a business man, but a vengeful boy. Now everything was at a toss. They had tried contacting the family of his bride, but they continued to refuse the numerous calls from his representatives. He had even been shown pictures of his intended and he knew now that the girl from before who had stained his clothes with juice was the very same who had been chosen to become his bride. He had announced her to the school... without so much as asking for a picture. More than anyone else, he felt he had let himself down with his folly and now sought whatever way to rectify it. He perked up at the sound of his pager and reached for it, eager for news.

From: Amy Conroy

To: Darien Column

Subject: Still Looking

None sir, she disappeared and has not been heard from since, we will continue looking and I will inform you of her whereabouts as soon as possible.

He groaned, closing the message and placing his palm worriedly to his forehead. Things had to be sorted out, and soon. Before news of any of this reached his father he would have to come to a solution. But how? He was staring up at his hand he thought hard- he came up short. It was all so complicated, even for him. Why was this situation proving to be one he couldn't so easily understand? Darien sighed, staring hard at his middle finger's ring. Looking at it usually calmed him- not today. It was ironic however, that the one piece of jewellery Mr. Lewis hadn't praised had been in fact his most precious, his ring. Detailed with tiny ruby along the edges, it was gold and slight. The very first thing his father had ever gifted him had been this; he had been six and their family had taken over as the Industry owners. In his eyes it was invaluable.

As time passed and no further pages arrived, he was left to wonder if perhaps when his father found out how out-of-hand this whole engagement ordeal had gotten, it would be taken from him. He gripped it tighter, realizing it wasn't a thought he took kindly to, but before he could dwell on it further, he heard the chime of his presidential suite's alarm go off. Slowly he stood to a halt, and breaking himself from his thoughts he headed for the door before opening it wearily. In the seconds after he did so, what he saw made him almost instantly catch his breath. The girl in the pictures and from that morning was standing before him, her uniform dusty and hair greatly dishevelled, she looked like she'd run the entire day in the short sailor skirt and blouse.

"Can I help you?" he asked her, still partly shocked that the woman he had looked so vastly for was here in front of him, but not foolish enough to keep silent and allow for her to get away.

He saw her fingers uncurl and watched as wordlessly, she presented a ring – so uniquely familiar to the one on his finger – and thrust out her finger before slipping it on. Looking him dead in the eye she lifted her chin. "I accept." She said simply, her voice void of emotion. "I will marry you."

This is a brief note but I thought I would ask, what did you think? Let me know! I also want to give a huge thanks to my reviewers, you guys are rock stars! As well as one to my little sister and awesome beta, SoujaGurl, thank you sissy! Review Bliss readers, and there will be more next month ;) Darien and Serena send their love, and Gramps wishes you all a rollicking Valentines. Loves You!

Xoxo, Analynn