posted on 27-Aug-2002 11:49:16 PM by alli balli
Title: Through Mine Eyes
Author: Alli aka Lavender
Rating: PG-13...well, maybe it could even be PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: the real story behind the destruction of the Royal 4. (ooh, so dramatic.)
A.N.: I wrote this like, a year ago, and never finished the very ending. It was one of my first fics, I believe. But it's done now. It's 8 very short parts. And warning, it's incredibly melodramatic. I'm ashamed of myself for writing such a ridiculously melodramatic fic. *big*

Umm, you should be able to figure out who the narrator is. Think season 2.

Part 1

Vanessa never told me stories.

But sometimes I told them to her. I knew more about the lives of the royals than they did themselves. I knew what they thought of each other and what they did when they were alone. I knew their daily routines, and when and how these routines were broken. I knew their fate as soon as I understood their motives.

I am the only one who knows their true story.

Vilandra fancied herself a smart woman. And oh, she was. She was cunning, sly, and beautiful. Do you have any idea how far those three qualities alone can take you?

Rath, of course, was her betrothed. He was second in command to her brother, the king; rugged, handsome, and cold. His military knowledge was unrivalled. Some political activists assumed that under his leadership, Antar could be carried into a golden age.

They were correct. That was why his death was vital.

The reigning king and queen had very little to do with the underhanded politics of the time. Zan was a fool, completely proccupied with his own affairs, and a prime example of those rulers who come to power simply through bloodlines and not intellect or charm. Ava was nothing more than a silly, lovesick schoolgirl trapped in a grown woman's body. She was sweet and naive, and the only person that the king came close to loving as much as he loved himself.

Their story plays out almost like a Shakespearean tragedy -- one of the few pleasures I've found in living on Earth. The hero, with his tragic flaw, makes one mistake after the other, and in the end, he always dies.


Vilandra had innumerable lovers. I was one myself at one point -- she soon grew bored and threw me away, moving onto her next conquest. Plenty of men warned me -- she's heartless, they said. But she never had trouble finding her next one-night stand. These random men could give her what Rath could not -- adoration, love. Rath did not admire, Rath did not love, Rath did not feel. Vilandra needed to be worshipped.

This is why it is so ironic that Vilandra fell for one of the only two men in the world who would not worship her.

Everyone knows the story of Vilandra and Khivar. Her only love, sprung from her only hate. They met as he was leaving a meeting with Zan; she was enraptured from their first encounter. Khivar owned Vilandra. She worshipped him.

Everyone knows the story of Vilandra and Khivar, but few have ever heard the tale of Rath and Cecile. Or that it was actually Rath, and not Vilandra, who made that fatal betrayal.


like it? please leave me fb, pretty please? *big*

[ edited 2 time(s), last at 30-Aug-2002 9:58:18 PM ]
posted on 30-Aug-2002 9:57:45 PM by alli balli
thanks roswelluver! *happy*

Part 2

You're probably questioning my accountability right about now. How did I learn all of this? The answer is simple. Cameras. And microphones. Hidden over every possible inch of that grand palace. I was a spy. Monitoring all the business of the leaders and royals for an small, independent political party. It paid well. My work for Khivar didn't come in until later, when he came into power.

Rath met Cecile in the east gardens. She was tending to some rosebushes, and he wouldn't have given her a second glance were it not for her beauty. Not even Vilandra could put to shame Cecile's silky blonde hair or full red lips. As it would turn out, good looks ran in the family. Rath was entranced.

They talked and flirted, and he came back the next afternoon for more fun. It was on the third day that he kissed her.

I remember watching him pull her down back hallways, hiding from any suspicious by-passers, until they finally reached his chamber. There they made love for the first time of many.

It was the perfect example of dramatic irony unfolding before me -- the audience knows the terrible circumstances, and yet the characters progress, unaware of their ignorance.

Cecile had arrived at the palace aware of her task -- to seduce the second-in-command, the true threat. She never counted on falling in love.

Here is where I think I'll stop the narrative for a bit, and let memory take control.


Cecile tip-toed quietly down the long, gold-adorned hallway. Her brother would be proud of her -- already she had a secret key to his private chambers. Smoothing back her long mane of golden hair, Cecile pulled the key from her pouch and slid it into the keyhole. It turned with a soft click. She slipped inside the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Rath looked up from his desk. "Cecile," he said simply, meeting her in the center of the room. He brushed a rough hand down her cheek. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she breathed, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand. He cupped her face and gently brushed his lips across her own.

"I have something to show you," he whispered, taking her by the hand. He led her to his desk, a large, finely-crafted wooden piece. Cecile frowned, studying the complicated patters that lay upon the papers before her. She turned to look at him, to say something, but was left speechless by the pride that shone on his chiseled face. He was beautiful.

And Cecile realized that she loved him.

"Wh-what is it?" she asked.

"Battle plans," Rath told her. "Zan has given the order to attack Khivar and his army. Next week, we fight."

"Oh," Cecile replied, feigning disinterest. She studied the maps out of the corner of her eye as she wrapped her arms around her lover and lifted her head, inviting him to her neck. As she memorized the sprawling x's and o's, her heart crumbled into a million pieces.