Welcome, my lovely readers, to the first arc of The Maiden with Eyes of Blue. Allow me to introduce you to Upendo, which means Love, in Swahili. This arc, or season, begins a few months before the Duelist Kingdom arc.
I did some research for a suitable song to serve as this first arc's theme, and that's only if you readers are interested in reading fanfics with such atmospheres included. The name of the first arc's theme is called Asterisk sung by the band Orange Range, which you might recognize as the first opening theme from Bleach.
I didn't choose this song because of Bleach, despite being a huge fan, but for the English translation to the song lyrics. If any of you find the time, look the English translation of the lyrics up and you'll understand why I went with this song.
Before anyone asks, no, I won't be including the Virtual Arc in The Maiden with Eyes of Blue. The events of the new timeline I established would clash and cause too many plot holes or discrepancies. Since Virtual Arc didn't occur in the manga, it will not occur here. I will be including KC Grand Championship though, due to the importance it carries and, the arc happens to be one of my favorites.
Saint-Tropez, France
November, 1996
It was supposed to be a clean, uncomplicated claiming.
Seto Kaiba, the sixteen-year-old CEO of Kaiba Corporation, was fully prepared to use whatever methods he deemed necessary to gain success. If Lady Luck were on his side, his target would be sound asleep and none the wiser to his intentions. If not, a simple gag would eliminate any sounds of protest.
Seto, as he was called by those closest to him, didn't think he was going to have to act like a gentleman—a blessing, considering such tender qualities were rare in his nature anyway. Only a select few—and those few he could list off with a single hand—got to experience his kinder, gentler side. Almost four years had passed since he took control of Kaiba Corp away from his stepfather and the man plummeted from a skyscraper as a result.
Since that time, he reformed Kaiba Corp from being a military arms dealer into a company that focuses exclusively on gaming and entertainment.
Imagine Seto's surprise when, after he succeeded in his hostile takeover and started going through old documents and records, he came across a contract made between Louis Delacour and his late stepfather. The contract matched the date Gozaburo hosted his business party, which was the same day Seto was introduced to his childhood friend Victoire. Louis, for lack of better words, gave Victoire's hand to Seto—a union that was made official when he either became of age or successfully got control over Kaiba Corp. Whichever occured first.
The arrangement was made due to the Delacour family's refusal to allow for a woman to run their shipping company. The shares and all control of Delacour Shipping were to be transferred over to Seto once he and Victoire had been together for two years and she gave him an heir.
Seto hadn't seen Victoire since that day on the beach when they celebrated Mokuba eighth birthday. The day he let her in on his plans to takeover Kaiba Corp., she advised caution in his handling of Gozaburo. There was something about Victoire, from the first day he laid eyes on her, that drew him to her. He wanted her, plain and simple. It took awhile for him to put a name to what he was feeling, but she meant far more to Seto than being just his childhood best friend. Growing up, Victoire had been like a ray of sunshine guiding him through the darkness.
Seto's scowl was in full evidence when he walked into the office of the Kaiba Corp building. The building that was Kaiba Corp's French Branch was only a temporary thing—one of Gozaburo's many leftovers—that the teenager had every intention of demolishing, once it served his purpose.
He found his right-hand man, Daimon Kogoro, lounging in a wingback chair with his feet propped up on the nearby window seat. "Ota has two mounts ready outside, Daimon," Seto addressed the man, referring to the engineer that works for Kaiba Corp. "Are you two going somewhere?"
"You know what those mounts are for, Seto-sama. You and I are going to ride over to the gardens and have a good look at the new Kaiba-aijin, and going on horseback won't attract nearly as much attention as going by your limousine. No one will see us if we keep to the trees."
Seto turned to look out the window before answering. "That won't be necessary."
"The others will watch the office while we are away."
"Daimon, I don't need to see her before tonight."
"You need to get a look at her first."
"Why?" Seto asked. He sounded genuinely perplexed.
Daimon shook his head. "To prepare yourself."
Seto turned around to face Daimon. "I don't need to prepare myself," He argued. "Everything's ready. I already know which window belongs to her bedroom. The tree outside will hold my weight; I tested it to be sure. There isn't a lock on her window to worry about, and the ship is ready to sail."
"So you've thought of everything, have you?"
"Of course." Seto gave a firm nod. "Don't I always?"
"Oh?" Daimon paused to smile. "Aren't you at all curious to see how she turned out? You haven't laid eyes on each other in years, and for all you know, she might've changed more than you think."
"No."
"Well, I am," Daimon finally admitted with a chuckle. "Since I won't be tagging along with you two on your honeymoon, it's only decent to satisfy my curiosity before you leave."
"It's a journey, not a honeymoon," Seto countered. He was starting to get annoyed and hated to be second guessed about anything. "The only reason we're sailing, Daimon, is to put as much distance between her and her relatives as I can." And away from distractions so I can train her went largely unsaid. He eagerly looked forward to the games they were going to play together.
"I don't know how you're going to stomach it," Daimon said. His grin was gone, his concern obvious in his expression. "Sir, you're going to have to bed her in order to produce an heir if you want Delacour Shipping, too."
Seto already knew that, but, if he were being honest, he had no interest whatsoever in Delacour Shipping. Victoire heavily supported Seto's dream to reform Kaiba Corp. into a gaming company, so he seriously doubted she held any interest for the military arms company owned by her family. He decided to go along with the contract, and the moment the company fell under his ownership and control, he will leave its fate for her to decide.
He leaned against the window frame and let out a long, weary sigh. "You aren't going to let up unless I agree to go, are you?"
"No," Daimon answered. "Besides, you'll want to count the number of Delacour uncles there so you'll know how many you have to contend with this evening. You must know none of them are happy with the arrangement."
It was a paltry argument, and they both knew it. "No one's going to get in my way, Daimon." That statement was made in a soft, chilling tone of voice.
Daimon grinned in reaction. "I'm well aware of your talents, sir. I just hope to God there won't be a bloodbath tonight."
"Why is that?"
"I'd hate to miss all the fun."
"Then come along."
"I can't," Daimon answered. "One favor deserves another, remember? I had to promise His Royal Highness Prince Rainier I'd attend his granddaughter's equestrian event if he could find a way to get Victoire-aijin to attend the party this afternoon."
"She won't be there," Seto predicted. "Her bastard father doesn't let her attend any functions. He allowed her to attend one, and it was the one that Gozaburo hosted almost a decade ago."
"She will definitely be there," Daimon looked as sure as he felt. "Louis wouldn't dare offend the Prince of Monaco. He specifically requested that she'll be allowed to join in the festivities."
"What reason did he give?"
"I haven't the faintest idea," Daimon answered. "Time's wasting, Seto-sama."
"Damn." After muttering that expletive, Seto pulled away from the frame. "Let's get this over with, then."
Daimon was quick to take advantage of his victory. He strode out the door before his sixteen-year-old boss could change his mind. On their way across the congested city, he turned to ask Seto, "Aren't you curious how we'll know which one is Victoire?"
"I'm sure you have something figured out," Seto remarked dryly.
"True." Daimon returned in that gratingly cheerful voice of his. "But in the event you don't recognize her right away, Princess Stephanie promised she'll stay close to Victoire all afternoon. It wouldn't hurt to show a little more enthusiasm."
"This outing is a complete waste of my time."
Daimon didn't agree, but he kept that opinion to himself. Neither man spoke again until they'd reached the rise above the gardens and reined in their mounts. The cover of the trees shielded them well, yet they had a clear view of the guests strolling about the gardens of the estate below.
"I feel like a damn schoolboy, Daimon."
Daimon had the urge to remind his young boss that to most people he is a schoolboy. The fact he's rich, owned a company, and was an emancipated teen genius with a preteen to look after didn't matter in the slightest. He didn't think doing so would go over well with the CEO. He did laugh, though, but not at the comment.
"Leave it to the royal family to go overboard." Daimon remarked when he noticed the group of musicians gathering toward the lower terrace. "They hired a whole damn orchestra."
"Ten minutes, and then I'm leaving."
"Fine." Daimon placated. He turned to look at Seto. He was scowling. "You know, sir, she might have been willing to leave with you if you'd—"
"Are you suggesting I send another letter?" Seto asked. He raised an eyebrow over the absurdity of that possibility. "You do remember what happened the last time I took your advice, don't you?"
"Of course I remember," Daimon answered. "There could have been a misunderstanding. Her father could have—"
"A misunderstanding?" Seto was incredulous. "I sent the note on a Wednesday, and I was damn specific, Daimon."
"I know. I know," Daimon said. "You told them you were going to collect your bride the following Monday. She was quick, too, wasn't she?"
"Yes, she was," Seto replied, a hint of a smile in his voice.
"You could have gone after her."
"Why? I had her followed. I knew where she was. I just decided to leave her alone a little longer."
"It's still odd to me," Daimon announced, switching the topic. "You had your guards follow Victoire—protect her, too—yet you never bothered to get any of them to tell you what she looked like."
"You didn't either." Seto countered.
Daimon shrugged. He returned his attention to the crowd below. "I suppose she..." He completely lost his train of thought when he spotted his sister strolling toward them. Another woman walked by her side. "There's the Princess," he said. "If the silly woman would just move a little to the left..." That remark went unfinished. Daimon's drawn breath filled the air. "Damn... is that Victoire-aijin?"
Seto didn't answer him. In truth, he doubted he was capable of speech right then. His mind was fully consumed, taking in the vision before him. Seto shook his head. No, he told himself, she couldn't possibly be his bride. The young woman talking to Princess Stephanie was simply too beautiful and feminine to belong to the Delacour family.
And yet there was a resemblance, a reminder of the girl that he used to chase after—something instinctual that told him that this was the same girl he used to affectionately call Tori, his childhood best friend. And now, his bride.
She had grown her hair out to waist-length, that was as black as he remembered, and seemed to shimmer whenever the sunlight hit just right. She'd grown to only average height, judging by the fact that she was eye level with the older woman. There certainly wasn't anything average about her figure, however. She had curves in all the right places.
"Look at all the young bucks moving in," Daimon announced with a low whistle. "They're like sharks circling their prey, and your bride seems to be their target, Seto-sama," He added. "You'd think they would have the decency to leave a married woman alone. Still, I suppose I can't really blame them. She's beautiful."
Seto was fully engrossed in watching the men, who looked to be around his own age, chase after Victoire. He had an overwhelming urge to go down there and beat the living hell out of each and every one of them for wanting to touch what belonged to him. "I'm here, mon amour," He whispered instead. "And soon, there won't be a single person on earth who won't know who you belong to."
"Here comes your father-in-law," Daimon pretended to not hear Seto's whispered pledge. "I didn't realize just how bowlegged he was. Look how he shadows her," he continued. "He isn't about to let his prize out of his sight."
Seto took a deep breath. "Let's ride, Daimon. I've seen enough." Not a hint of emotion was in his voice. Daimon turned to look at him.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Damn it, tell me what you think."
"About what?"
"Victoire-aijin," Daimon persisted, getting impatient. "What do you think of her?"
"The truth, Daimon?"
His right-hand man gave a curt nod.
Seto's smile was slow, easy. "I can carry her through a window."
Victoire had no other choice but to leave France.
Everyone will probably think she ran away again. They'd begin to call her a coward, she supposed, and although that slander would sting, she was still determined to go through with her plans. She'd already sent two letters to Seto Kaiba requesting his assistance, but the man whom she had known since childhood—and was legally married to—hadn't bothered to respond. She didn't dare try to contact him again.
There simply wasn't enough time left. Aunt Mei's future was at stake, and Victoire was the only one who could—or, more specifically, who would—save her.
If the members of her family believed she was running away from the marriage contract, so be it. It came as no secret that some members—more specifically, her uncles—hated the contract's existence and wished for its annulment. Victoire's uncles were of the opinion that Delacour Shipping, a company responsible for the manufacturing of warships, should stay under the control of the Delacour family. Not be used as a dowry.
Nothing turned out the way Victoire imagined. When her mother asked her to go to Mei's island last spring to make certain she was alright, she immediately agreed. Her mother hadn't received a letter from her sister in over four months, and fear about her health was beginning to make Victoire's mother ill.
Victoire was just as concerned about her mother's health as she was about her aunt's. Something was amiss. It simply wasn't like her aunt at all to forget to write. No, the monthly packet of letters had always been as dependable as the inevitable rain on the annual Delacour picnics. She and her mother agreed that neither one of them would confide the real reason behind her sudden departure. They settled on the lie that she was simply going to visit her favorite cousin, who lived in Spain with her husband and infant son.
She did consider telling her father the truth, but quickly discarded the notion. Even though he was certainly the most reasonable of the brothers, he was still a Delacour through and through. He didn't like Mei any better than his brothers did, though for his wife's sake he wasn't as vocal in his opinions.
The Delacour men had turned their backs on Mei when she disgraced them by marrying a Japanese man beneath her station. The marriage to her groom had taken place fourteen years earlier, but the Delacour's weren't a forgiving lot. They put great stock in the expression 'an eye for an eye'. Revenge was as sacred to them as the commandments were to most clergymen, even when the infraction was as slight as a brief month of public embarrassment. Not only would they never forget their humiliation, they would also never, ever forgive.
Had Victoire realized that fact sooner, she never would have allowed her aunt to come home for a visit otherwise. Heaven help her, she'd actually believed that time had softened her uncles' attitudes. The sad truth was quite the opposite. There wasn't a happy reunion allowed between the sisters. Yūka didn't even get to speak to Mei. As to that, no one did, for Mei simply vanished an hour after she and Victoire left the airport.
Victoire was nearly out of her mind with worry.
The time had finally come to put her plan into action, and her nerves were at a screaming point. Her fear had become an almost tangible thing, tearing at her determination. She was accustomed to letting other people take the wheel, but the shoe was on the other foot, as Mei liked to say, and Victoire needed to be the one in charge. She prayed to God that she was up to the challenge. Mei's life depended on her success.
The horrendous pretense Victoire had to endure for the past two weeks had become a nightmare. Each time she heard the door chime, she was certain the authorities had come to tell her Mei's body had been found. Finally, when she thought she couldn't stand the worry for another minute, her faithful retainer Pierre found out where her uncles had taken Aunt Mei. The gentle woman had been locked away in the attic of her Uncle Remy's townhouse until all the arrangements could be made with the court for guardianship. Then she was going to be spirited away to an out-of-country asylum, with her fat inheritance divided between the men in the family.
"Those fucking leeches." Victoire muttered to herself.
Her hand shook when she clipped the latch shut on her leather satchel. She tried convincing herself that it was anger and not fear that made her tremble so much. Every time she thought about the terror her aunt must be going through, she became infuriated all over again.
She took a deep, calming breath as she carried her satchel over to the open window. She tossed the bag down to the ground. "That's the last of it, Pierre. Hurry now before the family returns. Godspeed, friend."
The retainer collected the last bag and rushed toward the waiting taxi. Victoire closed the window, doused the candle, and climbed into bed.
It was almost midnight when her parents returned from their outing. When Victoire heard the footsteps in the hallway, she rolled onto her stomach, closed her eyes, and feigned sleep. A moment later, she heard the squeak of the door as it was opened and knew her father was looking in to see that his daughter was where she was supposed to be. It seemed to her that an eternity passed before the door was pulled shut again.
She waited another twenty minutes to let the household settle down for the night. Then she slipped out from under the covers and collected her belongings from where she'd hidden them under the bed. She needed to be inconspicuous on her journey. She decided to wear her school uniform for the occasion. This consisted of a white oxford shirt under a dark navy blazer, a long, knee-length dark navy plaid skirt, and black flats. She was too nervous to do anything fancy to her hair and settled on a ponytail to keep it out of the way.
After Victoire placed the letter she'd written to her mother on the vanity, she got her butterfly knife, made sure it was fastened tight before tossing it out the window. Her pepper spray was the next thing to go, then she climbed out onto the ledge.
The branch she wanted to grasp was just two feet away but a good three to four feet below her. Victoire said a quick prayer she'd make it as she wiggled closer to the edge. She sat there a long while until she could summon up enough courage to jump. Then, with a whimper of fear she couldn't contain, she pushed herself off the ledge.