Regal Blood (Death Note)

Chapter One

Light Yagami takes a sip from his wine glass and swallows the contents, knowing he'll have anyone who looks his way convinced that he enjoys it. Really, he's ignoring the insistent, burning sting in the back of his throat, as well as holding back the cringe he wants so badly to display. It's not that he doesn't like wine, nor that he has an aversion to the idea of intoxication. It's simply that this particular wine does not seem to agree with him, and while he can hold many things back, he cannot resist raising a rather fancy cloth napkin to his mouth, coughing into it as quietly and subtly as he can manage.

Glancing down at the napkin, Light grimaces at the embroidery gilding its edges and the royal family's golden fox emblem, glinting and shining from the napkin's center as if it is alive. Though he can put up an entirely plausible act and has social skills so strong he can come off as somewhat irresistible, the brunette does not appreciate gaudy affairs such as this one. It's not the superficial air, or even the entitled aristocrats surrounding him. It's the fact the event has beauty and grace but absolutely no underlying complexity. Not to mention its attendants, despite being human beings, are scarcely any better, saddling barely any intelligence but still managing to foolishly think they are better.

Light should not be in the company of these types of people, who are far inferior to his brilliant mind. His intellect needs to be challenged and stimulated, not insulted by the presence of imbeciles and simpletons that only have the titles they were born with. Indeed, considering technicalities, the Yagami name carries nobility alongside it, but Light is more impressive than just his last name. That is what separates him from these halfwits.

In any case, he petulantly reminds himself, from the confines of his head, why he is here in the first place. He is here because, in spite of its minor aristocracy, "Yagami" is not a widely-known name, and it is falling behind in the ranks. He is here because his family needs him to retain their money, reputation, and status. Shallow, perhaps, but all vital things in terms of the survival of noble families.

In other words, Light is here to win over Princess Misa Amane's heart and marry her.

She moves among the rest of them with anything but a regal ambience, and if the entire country wasn't acutely aware of her appearance, her utterly improper charisma and unbecomingly clumsy nature would never give her away as the Princess. She smiles and waves energetically at people she doesn't know at all, hasn't seen in her life, and proves her ditziness by repeatedly knocking into intricately set tables, elaborate displays, decorative adornments advertising either her own name or her family's crest, and everything else encompassing her.

It's work for Light not to roll his eyes as she passes, and he can't help but feel disdain when remembering this is the woman he has to marry. A woman with no elegance, no modesty, no brain. Aside from her jerky movements, which are aggravating for Light to even look at, he takes in her decidedly inappropriate ensemble with no small ounce of repulsion. Sure, this occasion is transpiring purely to advertise Misa to all her possible suitors, but is it really necessary to wear an outfit such as that?

Light thinks otherwise.

The neckline of the dress plunges to the equator, its frilled bottom hardly clearing Misa's thigh. The dress is a deep, almost seductive crimson, embellished with shimmering silver designs and black lace. She flaunts it, both her figure and the lavish clothing item, obviously assuming this will make her admirers drool. Much to Light's dismay, as he shifts his view to peer around the room, she seems to be correct. Men stare unblinkingly at the object of their desire, never once bothering to hide their pitiful yearning, their eyes glistening with something akin to lust. Misa appears to revel in it.

When she is Light's wife, he will not shower her with such hideously luxurious, undivided treatment. Maybe, he supposes, it is conceivable that in the future, he shall be able to put her in her place--make her realize she is not as remarkable as she believes. She may be the Princess, but she is nowhere near as marvelous as Japan allows her to surmise.