Lys

The Start

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~Prologue~


Hate. An emotion black and disgusting, ice cold with no remorse. It's heavy and smothering, consuming your being with a desire to conquer. For a fully grown man it's acceptable. He knows what it takes to truly hate, he has had a taste of it. But imagine that hate suppressed and bottled up inside a young girl, a hate monstrous enough to twist all reason. Hate so strong it pounds at her body, shrieking to be set free. There is no explanation for this hatred she will feel, but it will come and it will devour her.



~Chapter 1~


Lys P.O.V


The rancid taste of old cheese and heady mushrooms filled Lys' mouth once again as another bout of seasickness washed over her for the hundredth time. She caught sight of the food tray from yesterday and it was all she could do to not throw up.

The ship rocked again, more violently, and Lys went sprawling to the floor. 'It's like this damned ship is doing this on purpose', she thought angrily. The strong scent of resin suddenly overtook her nose as she breathed in, her face was pressed to the polished wood. She heard the ominous creak of the gas lamp swinging back and forth on its hanger, shadows growing and fading on the walls, a strange ancient dance. Suddenly, the room seemed too dark, too suffocating.

'I can't breathe.'

Rising up unsteadily to her feet, Lys half-walked, half-stumbled to the mahogany door and swung it open for the first time since the voyage, allowing the salty air to rush in and purify the cabin. Inhaling shakily she closed her eyes to regain some posture, attempting to calm her roiling stomach.

After a minute or two Lys took a deep breath, wincing at the salt, and opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh sunlight. Her door guard scrambled to attention, blushing furiously. Lys was used to this, and was about to smile at his childlike innocence until she saw his protruding dog ears. The notion of smiling abruptly fell and her gaze turned cold, face impassive.

"How many more days." Lys asked tersely.

The boy coughed before speaking, trying to appear mature and confident, "No more than two sunrises, Princess. Please endure for a while longer."

Lys gave no sign of acknowledgment and shut herself back inside, purple silk gown swishing against the door.

'Reborn', she thought disgustedly, 'half-animal freaks. Unnatural, an abomination, the world would do good to purge them.'. Lys stopped her inner tirade at another violent jerk of the ship. Her slipper caught on a leg of the stool and she tripped onto her bed, clutching at the bedpost for support. Lys gritted her teeth in frustration, hating the constricting feeling that the wretched cabin brought her. At her helplessness she was reminded wistfully of her two little siblings, Teo and Clementine.

Teo, 11, and Clementine, 8, they were the embodiment of angels so Lys believed. Although she had hated them when she was a child, jealousy being the main factor, she now could not imagine her life without them in the picture. They were her driving force, her reason to continue living.

In all honesty, Clementine was the sole reason Lys was on this voyage. Lys was headed to a neighboring kingdom, Viehart, to be wedded to one of the five eligible Crown Princes. This arrangement had been made with Lys' consent so that Clem wouldn't have to go through the pain of arranged marriage when she herself became of age. Lys did not wish Clem to ever marry some man whom she did not even know much less love.

Lys's eyes followed her clenched her fists, and stared at the pale ivory skin. Blue veins ran from thin wrists up until it disappeared in the folds of her sleeves. Lys craned her neck to look at the floor length mirror across the room. She was so....soft. Everything about her was so frustratingly delicate, small, and breakable. Long, luscious brown curls cascaded over slender shoulders that when in contact with sunlight, turned a deep auburn red that shimmered. Her neck was slender and shoulders petite. The only rough or unique part she had was her unusual emerald colored eyes, her hands which were calloused from a lifetime of archery, and her surprisingly strong and toned arms, also the result of archery.

Other than her arms and eyes, the resemblance to the late Queen Lystra was striking. Perhaps that was why her father hated her, could not stand to look at her. But she knew that she had always been a failure to him, for being a firstborn girl, not a boy, long before he even knew whom she'd come to look like. The affection her father once had for her, if any, had died the day of the Queen's assassination.

Now Lys was just a tool, an item, to make the kingdom prosper even more. Father knew no limits to his greed. He was a good king, making sure his people were happy and fed, but his never ending desire to expand their already vast land, fill their treasury houses up to the brim with riches, and pronounce his fame to the world - it seemed to never be enough. But then again, it had only started after Mother died. Even so, Lys was now a part of his sickening schemes. Well, she'd rather it be her than Clem.

But it was not that Lys thought any of the Princes she was to wed were not attractive. Lys had heard from countless travelers and merchants of the devilishly handsome five Princes of Viehart.

The oldest was Prince Alexander, 45, and he had many concubines and was quite the player. But due to his old age his looks were starting to wither away.

Then there was Prince Alden, 31, with no woman he fancied yet. In fact, although he was popular amongst ladies for his honest and kind heart, he had no interest in women at all. He preferred to read his books it seemed.

Then of course, the one whom all the women from her own country had placed their bets on, Prince Johannes. 21, blond hair, gray eyes along with a strong jaw line, it was no wonder innumerable women had become entranced by his beauty and charisma.

Second to youngest was the one whom was least known about, Prince Klaus. He was the youngest member of the Queen's Personal Guard in history, at the age of 19, fresh out of his training. He was also the least approachable out of the five, due to his schedule and his conservative personality.

Lastly there was the tiny Prince, Beau, only 12 years old and still in his training period. He was adorable apparently, but also quite the prankster.

But what did it matter, if these five Princes were handsome or not? She still knew nothing about them, except for a few petty rumors in regards to their looks, and that hardly have any indication as to their personality. She would just have to marry one of them, and if worst came to worst, she would marry the 12 year old child. Or else who knew what father would do to Clem.

The ship gave a sudden, violent shudder. Lys knew immediately something was wrong and shook herself out of her thoughts. This shake was different, more menacing than the previous ones. It wasn't until she could smell smoke that she knew something was terribly wrong.

Lys pushed away her queasy stomach and dashed to the window, only to see the black cavity of a cannon. A flag waved from the topmast, black with two roses partly covering a skull. Raiders, pirates that commanded air ships, dominating the skies. They were known for ruthless killings, looting of riches and women - and their sudden ambushes on royal vessels that traveled the sea.

Lists of strategies and and battle plans flew into her brain. But who would listen? Princesses were not supposed to know battle plans or combat strategies. Lys knew she was as good as useless and she hated it. Furious at the laws of this world, Lys clenched her jaw and gripped the windowsill until her knuckles turned white. The cannon fired and wood rained down in torrents. Another cannon collided near Lys's quarters, and her window broke. A shard of glass cut her wrist and Lys gasped at the sudden sting.

She stared as red began to seep out from the scratch, slow and dotted. A shout from outside the closed doors shattered Lys's fascination with her blood and everything seemed to fast forward. The smoke, the heat, the shaking, the urgency. It was dangerous here. She snatched her bow and arrows and went for the door. She pushed the mahogany...and it was jammed.

A rising panic started to swell up in her throat. She shook the door handle more frantically. A scream started to build up. She opened her mouth to call out for help, but stopped herself. No one would hear even if she screamed, they were probably frantic enough as it is. A new thought bubbled up.

I can die here, and not marry the Prince. If I die then I don't have to worry again about why father hates me so. If I die - the heat of room broke her train of suicidal thoughts. Why is it so hot? A wood plank from the ceiling gave way and crashed behind her, sending the gas lamp to the the floor. Lys whipped around and stared as flames started to devour her plush mattress, eating the clothes in her wardrobe, licking the walls with a hungry roar. Another lantern swung off its hanger and shattered on impact. The oil spread the fire out even more, until the entire other half of the room was covered in flames.

Lys backed up against the door, her precious bow safe behind her back. She forgot all about her thoughts of dying. Even if she wanted to die, slowly burning into ashes while in excruciating pain was not how she wanted to die. A searing sting shot through her cheek. An ember had grazed it. Now the full realization if her possible death hit her. If she didn't do something, anything, she would die. Right here, on the ocean, the cold sea, in flames.

She stared, horrified as a stray flaming tongue began to lick her slipper. She screamed and threw it off, watching with a terrible silence as it got devoured by the flames, the fabric slowly turning black and unrecognizable. The flames took advantage of her hesitation and started their feast on the hem of her gown. Lys shrieked and the door abruptly flew open. She fell backward, right into the arms of the young door guard Reborn. He stamped out the fire on her dress and leaped inside the burning room and emerged a few seconds later with a chest. He shoved the box into Lys's unresponsive hands.

"Your Highness, please listen to me," he murmured into her ear. Lys just sat, dumbfounded, gasping for breath as he spoke, "The raiders have attacked aiming for the wedding gifts. They also want to take you as hostage. Keep this chest safe, it might possibly be the only thing to keep you alive in time for rescue."

He paused, and seemed to prepare himself mentally for what he was about to do. His eyes, a beautiful cerulean blue, shimmered as if there was a furious raging battle within himself. Soot streaked his porcelain features, marring his pristine skin. Utterly breathtakingly beautiful. The characteristics of a Reborn. The boy stroked Lys's cheek tenderly, gazing at her electric green eyes, matching it with the same intensity of his own blue, actions both treason and worthy of death. He whispered tenderly,

"Forgive me."

And threw her off the ship, chest, clothes and all. It was a good thing he did, for the next cannon that hit was at the exact same spot they had been sitting on. The boy sacrificed himself for her, she realized. She saw the cannon implode, saw his legs get crushed into smithereens, saw his anguish and pain as he was lifted into the air from the force of the impact. She saw his blood spurt from the stubs that were now his legs, veins and arteries having been exposed.

Lys's back hit the sea and her breath whooshed out of her lungs and black rushed over her eyes. Silence.


____



Klaus P.O.V


A woman dressed in a brilliant purple gown made her way to Klaus' study. Pearls and sapphires hung from every inch of chiffon and lace. Her shining silver hair was done up in an elaborate hairdo as was the custom of Viehart, popular among the elven heritage. What strands that weren't pinned up by pearl combs bobbed up and down in soft curls that framed her petite shoulders. Ivory lashes contrasted against her violet eyes.

She opened the door to Klaus' study without knocking.

Klaus frowned at this intrusion and stared through his glasses.
His expression lightened when he realized who the intruder was.

"Genevieve (A/N : pronounced jen-ah-veev.)," Klaus removed his spectacles and put down his book. "What brings you here at this time? Is it not time for your tea?"

Genevieve smiled and shut the door behind her.

"No, my Prince. I believe tea has been canceled on your account."

Klaus looked at her in mock confusion. "My account, you say. Whatever makes you say that, dear Genevieve?"

She held a silk clad hand to her mouth and laughed coyly, peeking at him from underneath her lashes.

"I've skipped tea to see you. You never come by anymore, you devil."

Klaus turned towards her and sank back in his chair into a more relaxed posture. He placed his hands on the sides of his velvet armchair, long fingers laid spread out, showing off his royal signet ring. He noticed her eyes glance toward it for the barest fraction of a second.

He then directed his gaze at Genevieve, the half drawn curtains making the sunlight accentuate his sharp features. Genevieve trembled slightly as shivers made their way down her fragile spine.
She could never get used to his piercing expressions.

"...then come, Princess Genevieve. Time has been made for you."

Genevieve had a hard time holding her composure. Klaus was rarely this welcoming. She slowly walked towards him.

Klaus extended his hand towards her and gently clasped her hand, leading her closer. She gasped inaudibly,
heart thudding against her bosom. The corners of Klaus's mouth turned up ever so slightly into an impish grin at the sight of this. He looked into her eyes to distract her as he carefully extended his foot out in front of him. She tripped as Klaus pulled her onto his lap in a swift movement.

"Is this too close, my lady?" Klaus whispered into Genevieve's ear. She blushed a crimson red at the sound of his voice being so close.

"I-I, n-not at all." She stammered like a young girl speaking to a boy for the first time.

Klaus' expression grew more serious as he pulled Genevieve closer by the waist. He slowly brushed some of her hair away with the tips of his fingers and closed his eyes as he whispered once more into her ear -

"...My lady Genevieve, it seems that you...- "

In that moment Klaus cut himself off as he slammed Genevieve onto her back against his desk, ink bottle nearly spilling and his spectacles rattling on the table.

She cried out, "Klaus! what -"

Her eyes widened when she saw that Klaus' own eyes were cold and unforgiving as he looked down at her.

"...it seems that coming to see me wasn't the only thing on your mind."

Genevieve grinned as she gripped Klaus' arm.

"You're much too smart for your own good, Klaus. You should just stay ignorant and let me do my job." She hissed as she lunged at him, drawing a dagger from beneath her blouse.

Klaus dodged the strike and shifted his weight to deliver a swift kick to her gut. She flew back against the armoire, staggering as she tried to recover her breath, clutching at where he had kicked her.

Klaus suspected that the dagger was tipped with poison, considering the small blade that would not stab deeply. He stepped back warily near his bed.

She looked up at him with hateful eyes as she huffed with difficulty.

"V-viehart... and its royal families...will fall." She spat, gripping her blade's hilt tightly, making indents on the flesh of her palm.

Klaus gave her no response as he brandished a sword he produced from behind his bed post, where he stored it in case of surprise assassination attempts, like this one.

She screamed incoherently as she lunged at Klaus again - but was stopped abruptly as Klaus ran his sword through her chest.
She clawed at the blade as if it would pull it back out. Bubbles of blood formed from her lips and she spat it out. It splattered against Klaus' face gruesomely painting a bloody red picture on his cheek.

"May the Divinities have mercy on your soul." Klaus muttered and he gave a final twist to the blade, ultimately sealing her pathetic fate. She gurgled for the last time and fell silent.

Klaus breathed heavily, soft echoes bouncing off the walls of his spacious study.

He looked around, taking in the amount of blood he had spilled. Klaus sighed.

The door to his study opened again, and Klaus got into stance, ready for another intrusion. He relaxed, seeing it was only a servant.

"Good timing. Clean up this room immediately, before nightfall." He ordered. The maid bowed her head, used to seeing the occasional bloody room and dead woman body.

Klaus dropped his sword next to the woman and swept out of his study, taking his book with him along with his spectacles.

Now, to find more suitable area.


~End of Chapter 1~