Fanfiction

The Perfect Princess: Chapter 1

Title: The Perfect Princess
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings: 2x1x2, 3x4x3
Notes: This originally started as a short story, but then I turned it into a fanfic. Not beta’d. Originally published on Fanfiction.net March 23rd, 2002
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. Because if I did, then things would have been a lot different.

It’s five am in the morning. And I have a gun in my hand.

I hate myself. I wish I were a boy. If I were boy, maybe he would love me instead of him. I hate my hair. It’s not long enough. I hate my eyes. They are not the right color. I hate my height. I just a tad bit too short. I hate my breast. They don’t entice him. I hate the fact I have to sit to piss. I hate everything that represents my feminine qualities.

It’s five am in the morning. And I’m holding a gun to my head.

I can’t keep him bound to me. I love him too much. And I am willing to step down for him. And for Duo. That name is like acid in my mouth. Yet, I can’t bring myself to hate him. So I hate myself. I hate myself for the things I couldn’t do right.

Yeah, they’re meant for each other. Heero and Duo. Sitting in a tree. I’m purely disgusted at the thought.

It’s five am in the morning. And I’m considering pulling the trigger of the gun I have held to my head.

I’m tired of being looked at as naive. Bet they think I’m a virgin. I’m human. I’m a female. I’m lonely. I don’t like to be alone. There was always this one guy… I don’t even remember his name. He used to be a guard here.

His kisses were sloppy. His touch was too rough. I felt empty afterwards. And I learned then that sex without love is quite meaningless. It’s just skin hitting against skin. An orgasm that lasts a few seconds. And it’s over. No cuddling. No “I love you.” It’s just over. And the next day comes and goes. You think nothing else of it.

I hate that there was a war. If it hadn’t been for the war, I would have never met him. I wouldn’t have dared to love him. I wouldn’t have my dreams shattered like glass.

I hate the way he looks at me. Like I’m a saint. I’m not. I’m Relena Darlain. I’m Relena Peacecraft. I’m Princess of the Sank Kingdom. I’m Queen of the World. I’m Millardo Peacecraft’s little sister. I’m a pawn in wars. I’m the keeper of peace.

Who am I? Why can’t I just live? Why must they all look so adoringly at me? Why must they treat me like a china doll? I promise I won’t break. I won’t break that easily. I’m just as strong as Heero.

It’s five am in the morning. And I’m pointing a gun my reflection.

I hate my responsibility. I don’t want it. I don’t want to give speeches. I don’t want to try and convince everybody to stop fighting. I don’t want to smile. I don’t want to laugh.

I want Heero in my arms. But it’s not going to happen. I can accept that. Yet, I can’t accept this awful pain it brings in my heart.

Why must it hurt so much? Are these tears in my eyes? This wet liquid that’s falling down my face…? Yes, it must be tears. I’m obviously not as strong as I thought I was.

Wufei’s right. I am weak. Because I am a woman.

Weak. Woman. Disgusting. I hate myself. I am the very image of everything that is feminine. Dressed in pink. Girlish handwriting. Dolls and teddy bears. Even now, I display my femininity by wearing a pink boxers and a light purple tank top.

It’s five am in the morning. And I have gun pointed at my head. I want to pull the trigger.

I thought maybe during the Mariamaia Incident, I could make him mine. I didn’t really expect that to happen. It was just that small hope. In the end, he left. Like always. No good-bye.

I see him and Duo together now. They are with the Preventers. Sometimes they protect me. And I want to gut Duo. And yell at Heero. But I just put on my mask. I’m much better at pretending to be alright than Gundam pilots. I have it down to an art, though, they’re not bad at it. Especially Duo. He’s almost as good as I am. Still, we’ve all seen the sadness in his eyes every once in awhile.

But now my mask is cracking. It’s falling apart. Because of Duo. Heero. Quatre. Trowa. Wufei. Zechs. Une. Noin. Sally.

They’re making it break. Everyday… it’s Miss Relena that or Miss Relena this. My own brother calls me Miss Relena, only in public, but still, he’s my own damn brother! I hate them. I hate them all. I hate them for making me feel this pain… this hatred… this sadness.

They keep me at arms length. Never allowing me to attend anything other than those boring social dinners. I’m a child. A naive child. One who knows nothing of war.

Doesn’t losing the only father I’ve ever known count for something? Does having to hear my mother’s soul wrenching cries at night count? Does watching my mother slowly lose her sanity count for anything? Does the pain of not being loved count? Does it? What about my brother? He hasn’t even spent ten minutes with me alone. Me, his own sister.

Tell me Heero, what do you think?

It’s five am in the morning. And I have a gun pointed at my head. I am contemplating pulling the trigger.

Instead, I point the gun at my reflection in the mirror. I pull the trigger of the gun. It clicks. “Bang,” I say to myself, “You’re just as dead as they are.”

Angry at my weakness, I hit the mirror with the gun. The glass flies out towards me. I barely register the few pieces of razor-sharp silver that strike my arms and legs. I feel the blood flowing down my skin. I smile.

Who’s the perfect princess now?

I take the safety off the gun. I raise it to my head. I take a step back and I feel the glass shards cut into my feet. I scream out and fall to the floor. I quickly place the gun behind my back and I stick my foot out to examine it.

And they come running in. Everyone. With their guns drawn ready to eliminate the enemy. Only there is no enemy. Just my demons.

“Relena?” Heero gasps, taking in my pale face and angry blue eyes.

“What on Earth..?” Duo murmurs, “Relena..?”

“Oh my, Miss Relena… what a mess…” Dorothy adds.

Quatre is too stunned to speak and naturally Trowa has nothing to say. Zechs shakes his head. “What’s going on?”

“Relena… did you do this?” Noin. Her false concern. If Zechs weren’t related to me, she’d never glance in my direction.

Une looks like she wants to say something, but isn’t sure what. Sally snaps out of it and rushes to my side, oblivious to the gun behind my back as she examines my foot. “How on Earth did you manage this?”

I pull the gun and point it at Sally. “Get away from me.”

She gasps, and quickly retreats. Shock is evident on her face.

“Relena?” Quatre asks, “What are you doing?”

I put the gun to my head. And pull the trigger. Again the gun clicks. “I’m empty. Just like all of you.”

“Relena, this isn’t like you,” Noin pleads.

“Then tell me who I am.”

There is silence in the room. I look at each of them. “Quatre, what’s my favorite color?”

He is hesitant, but answers. “Pink.”

“Wrong. Zechs, what’s my favorite song?”

No answer. “Just as I thought. Noin, name one of my hobbies.”

She shakes her head. “Sally, what’s my favorite television show?”

Silence.

“Trowa, what’s my favorite sport?”

“I don’t know.” His reply is so quiet I barely hear it.

“How many languages can I speak, Wufei?”

“Relena…”

“Une, what’s my favorite season?”

“Don’t… Relena.”

“Duo, what’s my favorite food? Heero, tell me my favorite subject!”

That awful silence.

“Dorothy, what’s my favorite arcade game?”

Dorothy frowns. “You like arcade games?”

I scream out my frustration and throw the gun at Duo who skillfully dodges it. “I hate you all! You smile at me. And pretend to know me! And yet you know absolutely nothing about me!”

Heero takes a step a forward but my glare stops him. “You have no right. I just wanted to be loved by you. Oh well, I get my heart broken. Again. That’s what I get for loving an emotionless, son-of-a-bitch. You couldn’t even offer me friendship.”

“Hey, don’t blame Heero…”

I cut off Duo. “It’s always the Pink Terror’s fault, isn’t it? Naive and crazy. Obsessed. Annoying, screeching voice!”

Duo’s eyes widened and I laugh. “Didn’t think I hear the things you say about me? Don’t think I hear you all laugh? No one defends my name, but I get in front of the spotlight and defend each and every last one of you. I defend every soldier that fought. I defend you all with my last breath! Yet, I get nothing. Nothing. Not even friendship!”

“Relena, maybe if we…” Zechs stops, unsure of what to do.

“You’re not my brother. My brother died. You look like him. But you’re not him. My brother would never treat like a person he knew of, but didn’t know personally. Leave. All of you.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” Sally states. “At least let me tend to your foot.”

“Don’t worry about me. Today, I’ll be ready. And I’ll go the press conference. I shall become the peace keeper. The audience will devour my words and beg for more. Now leave. Get out! Now! Out!”

Though hesitantly, they all leave, except for Dorothy who remains, staring at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late for sorry. I’m just as bitter and jaded as any soldier now.”

Dorothy leaves, slamming the door shut behind her. This is not the Relena she worshipped.

It’s five-thirty am. The blood on my foot is dry. The gun is laying somewhere near the door. Death has passed me by again.

I limp to my bathroom and clean my foot. I will wear flat shoes today. But today, at noon, when I step onto the stage this morning’s events will be forgotten.

And I shall be the perfect princess again.

 

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