navy = flashback
Amelia swallowed hard. She was nervous, very nervous. Her feet had luckily taken on the responsibility of walking down those long, ornately-decorated hallways, those hallways which were once familiar and friendly to her. Now they scared her, leading the way to an uncomfortable situation.
It had been four years since she'd last walked those hallways in the palace at Seiryuun. Four years since she'd seen her father. Quite frankly, Amelia was terrified. What if he refused to speak to her? What if he'd changed? What if her absence had rendered him mad? What if - Amelia gulped at this one - what if he and Xelloss got into a fight? She glanced at her lover out of the corner of her eye, knowing who would win if that came to pass.
At least she'd been able to get an audience with the prince. She hadn't told anyone who she was, and had cloaked her face to hide her identity. None had recognized Xelloss either, luckily. Her father had no idea she was coming. Amelia wondered if he even knew whether she was alive or dead.
"Here we are, Miss," one of the heralds was saying. She didn't recognize the boy; he must have just recently acquired that position.
"Thank you," she told him as he opened the door for her and departed with a bow.
Philionel's back was turned to the door. He was working diligently at his desk and hadn't heard them come into the study. The former princess gulped as she drew back her hood, not exactly sure what she was going to say. "Daddy?"
Phil whirled around, startled. His eyes widened impossibly with recognition of the girl standing in front of him. He gaped for a few moments, his mouth hanging open, until finally finding his voice. "Masaka...Amelia?!"
Her eyes were already brimming with tears and she could hold back her emotions no longer. "Daddy!!" she cried, crossing the room in three steps and flinging herself into his arms.
She could feel her father's embrace tighten around her after a few seconds of hesitation, bear-like. "Amelia! How...where...when..." He was at a loss for words, stunned by his daughter's sudden appearance.
Amelia's tears stained his tunic, overflowing from her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I worried you. Daddy, I missed you so much!!"
"I missed you, too, Amelia." Phil's voice sounded a bit choked, as if he might start crying himself. His little girl was back. His daughter was back. She wasn't missing. She wasn't dead, or injured, or lying in some gutter somewhere. She was alive. Alive and safe in his arms. Oh, he wanted to hold her forever, but there were some rather pressing questions to be attended to. He pulled back out of the hug. "I'm very glad...no, I'm ecstatic to see you, but...where have you been all this time, daughter?"
She lowered her eyes for a moment, then looked over her shoulder into the room's shadows. "Daddy, there's someone I'd like you to meet..."
Philionel could barely distinguish two figures by the door, one a tall male with a cloak and the other a small child. The childlike figure let go of the cloaked one's hand and, with the prodding of the cloaked one, stepped into the light. The kid was a beautiful little girl with soft violet hair and pale skin, dressed in a peach-pink sundress. She reached up to take Amelia's palm and looked curiously at the gigantic prince. Phil was startled to find himself staring into a pair of familiar eyes.
Amelia cleared her throat nervously. "Daddy, I'd like you to meet Razilee. My daughter."
There was a long, long silence. The prince's shocked expression betrayed the ideas his mind churned out at that moment. Prince Philionel was no fool; he quickly put the equation together. Amelia had gotten pregnant and run away from home, his mind calculated. She'd been raising the child and hiding from him, ashamed. Of course he was a bit off, not having access to the complete story, but he was basically right. "I see..." he finally said at some length, a flock of questions hovering at his tongue's tip. The most prominent being what treacherous fool had done such a thing to his baby girl? What villain had caused his daughter's innocence to be smashed?
His eyes flew to the doorway's shadows, scrutinizing what he could see of the male figure standing there. Phil thought he recognized the figure, that cloak, that purple hair. He'd seen the man somewhere before, long ago. But it was different this time. Evil. This time, the man exuded evil from every pore. Even the smile plastered on his pale face suggested dark intentions. Was this the treacherous fool? Was this the villain who'd taken his daughter from him?
"Mommy, why isn't the scary man saying anything?"
Phil tore his eyes away from the shadows and blinked confusedly at the child, whom Amelia was trying to quiet. "Hush, Razilee. He's not a scary man."
The child stuck her lip out in a pout. "Well, he looks scary to me."
"Shh, you shouldn't say such things about your grandfather."
That last word struck him like a mortar-bearing cart. Grandfather. He was a grandfather. The child was his...his granddaughter. Phil looked down at her, forcing a smile on his face. Forcing himself to ignore the circumstances for the time being. There would be opportunities to discuss this with Amelia alone, away from the ears of the child and the dark man.
The prince looked closer at the little girl. What was her name again? Razilee. She was blinking at him with large innocent eyes, her minuscule nose wrinkled in a thoughtful fashion. Much like Amelia had done at that age, so long ago. But that purple hair, that distinct purple hair... "Hello there, little one. Welcome to my palace," he greeted, feeling a twinge of pain. He'd never imagined meeting his first grandchild in a situation like this.
Razilee peered at him. "You're funny," she announced decidedly. "I like you." And with that, she climbed into his lap.
The former princess ran a comb through her dark locks as she sad before a lavishly decorated vanity, a silk bathrobe tied snugly around her slender form. The familiarity of the room struck her in full, bringing back memories of childhood and girlhood alike. Everything in the bedroom meant something to her. Everything was important at one time. She was surprised her father had kept her room in mint condition all that time. Nothing had changed.
Amelia rose and ran her fingers over the engravings on the wall, tracing the beautiful mahogany curves. She'd been able to distract her father with Razilee, momentarily taking his attention away from herself and Xelloss. The Mazoku had agreed to stay in the background and not call too much attention to himself anyway, further stalling a confrontation.
But the situation had had to be explained. Amelia purposely, though dreading it, spoke alone with the prince. He'd had a multitude of questions for her, and she'd tried to answer them the best she could. However, when the discussion had gotten down to the topic of Xelloss...
"Amelia. He's a Mazoku, isn't he."
"Yes, Daddy."
A pause. "You and he are...?"
"Yes."
A longer pause. "Why?"
"Daddy, please...don't ask me that," she begged.
He'd risen to his full height, an intimidating tower. "Don't ask you
that? How can I not? How can any father not ask why his daughter has gone
against the code of Justice and consented to bed with a demon?! Unless
consent was not included," he added as an afterthought, narrowing his eyes.
"....."
The prince sighed. "Amelia, why have you stayed with the demon? Why do
you still stay with him now? If it is because of the child..."
"That's not the reason," she interrupted.
"...then just take your child with you and come home. Leave him. The
people of Seiryuun will welcome you back with open arms, I'm certain."
Leave Xelloss? How could he possibly ask her to do such a thing? Amelia
imagined the Mazoku living alone again. Alone, and hurt for the worse
because of rejection. Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered how
miserable he'd looked the last time she'd inferred that she might leave. "I
can't," she whispered. "I can't do that to him."
Philionel put his hands to his head. "I don't understand. You haven't
explained any of this to me. You haven't told my how this happened. Why?
How did this happen, Amelia?"
She squeezed her tears back. "I can't tell you."
He slammed his fist down on the desk, frustrated. "What do you want me
to do, Amelia, just forget about the whole thing? Just accept it? I have to
know! I'm worried! Can you honestly tell me that I don't need to know, to
worry? Amelia," he softened his voice and sat in front of her, "can you
honestly tell me you yourself chose this life?"
She hesitated, staring at him with silence. It would be untrue to answer
affirmatively, but she could not, would not, tell him about that night four
years ago. Philionel's eyes widened; he'd nearly guessed it anyway. "Daddy,
please," she implored, leaping to her feet to prevent her father from running
out and strangling her lover with his bare hands. "Trust me on this, please.
I can't leave him. I won't. And I can't explain to you why or how it all
happened. Even if you don't understand, please just accept it. This is the
way it is. I can't go back and change the past. I...have a family now,
Daddy. I have obligations. And I'm not going to run away from them."
Luckily her father had finally ended the discussion. He'd already lost his daughter once, and he wasn't about to lose her again over kept secrets. They'd come to the agreement that she would often visit with her little family, but she ultimately belonged to Xelloss. Phil would have his daughter and granddaughter (and his son-in-law, much to his dismay), but the people of Seiryuun would know nothing of the matter.
Amelia slowly untied her robe from around her waist and draped it over the back of a chair. She didn't really see the point in wearing pajamas, since Xelloss usually removed them within the first few minutes of being in bed, but she wasn't going to give up the chance to dress in some of her old clothes. If only for nostalgia's sake.
Timidly, she approached her bed. The last night she'd been in that bed was that night. The cozy butterfly quilt seemed ominous now, the familiar surroundings filled with painful memories. Hesitantly she sat on the bed, testing its soft springy mattress, and sighed. She hadn't noticed the softness on that night, four years ago.
"What's the matter, Ame-chan?"
She nearly choked on the lump in her throat; he looked exactly the same as he had on that night, clad only in his pants. The only missing item was the blind anger and lust that had been in his eyes. It still took all of her strength not to burst into tears right then and there. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
The Mazoku's eyes traveled over the bed, he knew what she was thinking. "Ame-chan," he said softly, sitting next to her. "You know I won't hurt you, right? Never again. I promise."
Amelia swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know," she said softly. She didn't want to look at the surroundings anymore. She didn't want to relive those memories. She wanted to ignore them, to forget. She was going to get everything she wanted, she promised herself. She wasn't going to dwell in the past. "Hold me," she whispered, pulling him into bed with her. "Just hold me and never let go."