The Ironic Cruelty of Roses - Beauty and The Beast [ Danganronpa ]

The Worst Betrayal is From Blood.

Note: shout out to the WLW Beauty and the Beast fanfic writers, love you all
Word count: 1314





Mukuro Ikusaba. Utterly useless. Utterly repulsive.

With her name crowning her with 'corpse' and 'war', it was a surprise that Mukuro was adopted into a noble family of a widowed queen and a fatherless daughter. The widowed queen, a brilliant battle strategist, was often away to protect her ruling. Though she was absent, she was never rude to Mukuro.

Mukuro's newly founded sister, Junko of the Enoshima household, was anything but absent.

Junko was often curious about the teenager, peering from behind the castle's columns to upright following her like a duckling. While Mukuro herself was raised by the castle's servants, Junko was raised by her new older sister more or less. Actually, it was more like Mukuro was being dragged by her sister everywhere. Not like she minded, she enjoyed their time together. From weaving baskets to burying small animals, Mukuro followed Junko without question.
Mukuro was her 'loyal knight'.
And Junko was her 'dearest lady'.

Junko often fantasized the two of them ruling over not just their kingdom, but the entirety of the world. Although she didn't outwardly express her opinion, the thought of being away from Junko like their mother was painful. It ached throughout her soul and wavered the very strands that made Mukuro. Now that she had taken a sip of Junko, she was horribly thirsty.

The only one that could quell Mukuro's undying protectiveness for her sister was a son of a servant. Makoto Naegi, only a tad younger than the ebony, was nothing special; not in the eyes of Junko, nor to anyone who knew him. But he was refreshing. Makoto was somewhat like her, in the way that he didn't mind anything he was tasked with. On days when Junko was busy, he would often check up on Mukuro since he, 'also had a little sister, so I get it.' Regardless of his duties, Makoto would engulf whatever information she gave.

He wasn't water, like Junko; He was a sponge, like Mukuro. But, he was kind, compassionate, earnest. Qualities Mukuro lacked.

Mukuro was just... empty. Following blindly.
She.. suppose she doesn't mind. Right?

If she minded, how will she be a loyal servant to her sister? The sister who taught her so much, the sister who loved her dearly. If she isn't loyal, then who is Mukuro?

Is she a puppet? Or perhaps a tool?
Or is she completely useless?

Favored guests of Junko lined the outer wall of the ballroom, its grandeur washing everyone in wealth and beauty. Lavish, golden designs decorated the walls, as the ceiling's angels looked down upon the reflective floors. Those attending were dressed in the finest silks and robes, bringing the finest chapel to shame in comparison. However, Mukuro was not one of those attendees.

Mukuro, dressed in masculine attire and situated on the servant's wall, blended right in with her brethren. After all, she is nothing but a loyal servant to Junko. And Junko's word was such.
However, Makoto was less pleased. At the end of the day, Mukuro was a princess, not a commoner nor a servant. It would be uncouth for Mukuro to be treated as such.

Yet, unfortunately for Makoto, Junko's word was scripture.

The night was haste, filled with entertainment and high praise. It was a whirlwind of mindless compliments, dreadfully boring to the center of attention: Junko. Although she had everything she desired, she was selfish, spoiled, and unkind. She wanted to be feared like her mother once was. Junko craved despair that could strangle her, something that truly made her regret being born.