Twisted Karma [R - NC-17] Prologue
Posted: Mon Oct 04, 2004 6:19 pm
Twisted Karma
By Andrea Sinisterra
Angst/Tragedy/Romance
Rated R / NC-17
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Author's Note: I know I shouldn't be starting another fic when I still have to finish a few others... But I got hooked on this idea, I just had to get it out.
Special thanks to Caliborn who brainstormed with me, and also beta-read my fic. Cali, hon, you're <b>the</b> best.
Warnings!: This story has a very dark theme; it deals with death, non-consensual sex, infidelity, abuse, though it WILL have -many- romantic moments. It is 1xR, after all.
<center>~</center>
Her skin was magnificently translucent under the sharp, unforgiving lights; the cold, air conditioned atmosphere swept the warmth of her flesh away? not that there would have remained any. Just like the many others here, she had come to stay. A perpetual visitor, sleeping her nights away until some soul would take pity on her and take her away. So many faces in this room, so many lives and stories.
He walked around the gurney, snapping latex gloves before fixing the crude, overhead lights. He tried to ignore the nametag, knowing that a name would make it more personal; knowing that a name would make him even more conscious of his cruel, cold job.
Not for the first time in his 10 years of working in Sanq?s Central Hospital Morgue, he wondered, as he reached for the sterilized scalpel, the life behind the nametag.
Prologue
Twenty-six year old Relena Peacecraft was the envy of every woman. She was perfect: she was beautiful, successful and had married one of the most handsome, sought-out bachelors in the world. Put mildly, Relena Peacecraft had it all.
But people often got the story disguised in a pageantry of silver and gold, blinding them to the truth beneath it. People often preferred to remain ignorant rather than face a reality that, quite frankly, was too appalling and pernicious to be believable. They didn?t really care about her, only what she represented. She, Relena Peacecraft, was their key into a world of diamonds and gold: of cold smiles and hollow words? She was their ticket into a society they strove so hard to be a part of, and ironically, a life Relena secretly wanted an escape from.
And she did escape, only not in the way she had wanted.
The day she met Andr? Arag?n, a Spanish magnate who had come to Sanq seeking to expand his already successful empire of shipping ports for pharmaceutical drugs, she knew her life would change drastically. For the better, of course. A virginal mind is something sacred; it?s unsullied, innocent- a wishing of happiness and blessings. She had married a man she knew she loved and trusted. She had married a man, who, by all means, was perfect.
But under every wide smile, there?s a cold sneer. She had learned that.
*~*~*~*
My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was a child; my favorite was the one that told the legend of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra?s love. Perhaps I?ve always been a hopelessly romantic fool, but the idea of a forbidden love overcoming the greatest of odds sounds chivalrous and fascinating. Even if they did die in the end, they opted to end their own lives rather than to have to live the rest of their existence without each other. And in doing so, they rewrote destiny; they bargained with fate. Mark Anthony and Cleopatra confirmed the rules I believed in.
I?ve always believed that things happen for a reason. I?ve always believed in destiny. I believe fate is a sketch of ourselves, of the decisions we make in life, and that according to our will, it can go either way. We create our own destinies, because destiny is just a sculpture we mold to our liking. So our lives, complicated as they seem, are just sketches of a sculpture forged by our will. This is my philosophy.
But love tends to screw things up.
It was an emotional rollercoaster since the very first night. It all happened so fast, as I entered, oblivious, to my Aunt Cornelia?s house. A fund-raising ball for the oncology ward of Sanq?s Central Hospital had lured the wealthiest and most successful businessmen from around the west and southern countries of Europe. I remember flinching as the head servant announced my name upon my entry; it always made me feel so self conscious when everyone within the vicinity would turn around and stare. I despised the hypocrisy of the people that moved around me. They gave away their money to a place they would never go to; only signing their checks in the hopes theirs would be the one with the highest sum, so they could get a special recognition. Recognition, not of their charitable souls, but recognition of their power and flowing monetary assets.
Hypocrite assholes.
Even if I accepted being a hypocrite myself, too. Perhaps not for the same reasons; I truly cared for the people our "charities" helped-- I just think there?s no need to organize a ball and spend thousands of dollars on catering and arrangements, when we could have used that money to give to the hospital. But they all strove for publicity. And I was a lonely soul fighting for a lost cause.
Among the attendees, I recognized several faces; my immediate family and other relatives, as well as some of my father and brother?s business associates. There were also many of whom I didn?t know: special guests who either had money, or were related in some way to the hospital. I spent more than half a night being shuffled from group to group, my Aunt Cornelia?s hand firm on my elbow as she steered me left and right. By the time dinner was served, the buffet table a mile long, and the endless line of caterers on the ready, I knew I had to get away.
The moment I collided with him and our eyes locked, Fate had written a new page.
And it was fast. From that moment on, we became inseparable. For three months, we spent most of our waking hours, as well as our sleeping moments, with each other, languorously lying in each other?s arms. Andr? Arag?n charmed his way into my life, he made me deliriously happy. He showed me passion and caring, he showed me the world through his eyes, taught me his perceptions of things, showed me his philosophy? Made me his wife.
We married at the Almudena Cathedral in Madrid; the high towers and pillars of a neo-baroque style that took over a century in planning and construction were almost overwhelming. I was getting married to the man I loved, nothing could go wrong. I had felt at the top of the world. It was like being on a constant, never-ending high, where there was only happiness and that goofy smile you just couldn?t detach from your lips.
And when he proclaimed we would spend our honeymoon in Cyprus, I would have collapsed with excitement had he not chosen that moment to kiss me senseless. As I would later find out, the Commandaria vineyard in Cyprus- which is one of, if not the oldest, vineyards worldwide- was the same paradise Cleopatra had once fallen in love with. Mark Anthony then took possession of the island and gave it to his lover as a proclamation of his undying love.
The Commandaria vineyard grows the endemic commandaria grape, which is a grape far larger and sweeter than the regular grapes. I?ve never tasted wine like that. Cyprus is also the birthplace of the goddess Aphrodite; Petra tou Romiou in Pathos was the place from where the Love Goddess rose from the seas into the mortal world, casting her spells of passion and potions for unrequited love.
The few weeks we spent there were, truthfully, the best time I had during my marriage. It was like we had escaped the world and entered a new, magical one. It was just the two of us. Andr? was different there? He used to be different.
Sometimes I think he lied to me.
During the first two years of our marriage, Andr? would take me around the world with him on his business trips. I spent most of my time alone, waiting for him to return; when he did, he would be too tired to do anything else besides sleep. I tried to be understanding, but I knew I was being cast aside: I was no longer his top priority. I always thought that the moment I fell in love, it would be a lifetime deal. I dedicated my existence to my husband: I cherished and loved him. I had fallen in love with that person I had met at the ball, that person who was so spontaneous and loving. I fell in love with the man who listened to every word I said, who kissed me with unearthly passion, and who cradled me at night as if afraid I would run.
But he got lost over the years; he no longer remembered me, no longer loved me. I knew that, he knew that. Perhaps we married too soon, perhaps what we thought was love was just mere passion. Perhaps I had mistaken lust for love. I was his prisoner. For the longest time, I yielded to him because I loved him? because I was afraid of him.
To be continued...
Author?s Note: There are a few things I want to clear out before I continue. I know this prologue was very confusing, especially the first part, but this was how I wanted to write it. The part in italics, was just an introduction, and is key to this story. This story sort of goes backwards, but once you start reading the next parts, you?ll understand what I mean.
I wrote this last part of the prologue in first person because I needed you all to understand Relena, how she felt about their meeting and marriage. I considered it could only be expressed in a first person mode. The rest of the story will be written in third person.
I think that?s it for now. I?m sorry if I confused you! If you still have some doubts, you can ask me about them, and I?ll try to answer without giving the story away. I really hope you liked this prologue. ^^!
...And the first chapter is done. I'm waiting for Cali to send it back. ^^!
By Andrea Sinisterra
Angst/Tragedy/Romance
Rated R / NC-17
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Author's Note: I know I shouldn't be starting another fic when I still have to finish a few others... But I got hooked on this idea, I just had to get it out.
Special thanks to Caliborn who brainstormed with me, and also beta-read my fic. Cali, hon, you're <b>the</b> best.
Warnings!: This story has a very dark theme; it deals with death, non-consensual sex, infidelity, abuse, though it WILL have -many- romantic moments. It is 1xR, after all.
<center>~</center>
Her skin was magnificently translucent under the sharp, unforgiving lights; the cold, air conditioned atmosphere swept the warmth of her flesh away? not that there would have remained any. Just like the many others here, she had come to stay. A perpetual visitor, sleeping her nights away until some soul would take pity on her and take her away. So many faces in this room, so many lives and stories.
He walked around the gurney, snapping latex gloves before fixing the crude, overhead lights. He tried to ignore the nametag, knowing that a name would make it more personal; knowing that a name would make him even more conscious of his cruel, cold job.
Not for the first time in his 10 years of working in Sanq?s Central Hospital Morgue, he wondered, as he reached for the sterilized scalpel, the life behind the nametag.
Prologue
Twenty-six year old Relena Peacecraft was the envy of every woman. She was perfect: she was beautiful, successful and had married one of the most handsome, sought-out bachelors in the world. Put mildly, Relena Peacecraft had it all.
But people often got the story disguised in a pageantry of silver and gold, blinding them to the truth beneath it. People often preferred to remain ignorant rather than face a reality that, quite frankly, was too appalling and pernicious to be believable. They didn?t really care about her, only what she represented. She, Relena Peacecraft, was their key into a world of diamonds and gold: of cold smiles and hollow words? She was their ticket into a society they strove so hard to be a part of, and ironically, a life Relena secretly wanted an escape from.
And she did escape, only not in the way she had wanted.
The day she met Andr? Arag?n, a Spanish magnate who had come to Sanq seeking to expand his already successful empire of shipping ports for pharmaceutical drugs, she knew her life would change drastically. For the better, of course. A virginal mind is something sacred; it?s unsullied, innocent- a wishing of happiness and blessings. She had married a man she knew she loved and trusted. She had married a man, who, by all means, was perfect.
But under every wide smile, there?s a cold sneer. She had learned that.
*~*~*~*
My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was a child; my favorite was the one that told the legend of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra?s love. Perhaps I?ve always been a hopelessly romantic fool, but the idea of a forbidden love overcoming the greatest of odds sounds chivalrous and fascinating. Even if they did die in the end, they opted to end their own lives rather than to have to live the rest of their existence without each other. And in doing so, they rewrote destiny; they bargained with fate. Mark Anthony and Cleopatra confirmed the rules I believed in.
I?ve always believed that things happen for a reason. I?ve always believed in destiny. I believe fate is a sketch of ourselves, of the decisions we make in life, and that according to our will, it can go either way. We create our own destinies, because destiny is just a sculpture we mold to our liking. So our lives, complicated as they seem, are just sketches of a sculpture forged by our will. This is my philosophy.
But love tends to screw things up.
It was an emotional rollercoaster since the very first night. It all happened so fast, as I entered, oblivious, to my Aunt Cornelia?s house. A fund-raising ball for the oncology ward of Sanq?s Central Hospital had lured the wealthiest and most successful businessmen from around the west and southern countries of Europe. I remember flinching as the head servant announced my name upon my entry; it always made me feel so self conscious when everyone within the vicinity would turn around and stare. I despised the hypocrisy of the people that moved around me. They gave away their money to a place they would never go to; only signing their checks in the hopes theirs would be the one with the highest sum, so they could get a special recognition. Recognition, not of their charitable souls, but recognition of their power and flowing monetary assets.
Hypocrite assholes.
Even if I accepted being a hypocrite myself, too. Perhaps not for the same reasons; I truly cared for the people our "charities" helped-- I just think there?s no need to organize a ball and spend thousands of dollars on catering and arrangements, when we could have used that money to give to the hospital. But they all strove for publicity. And I was a lonely soul fighting for a lost cause.
Among the attendees, I recognized several faces; my immediate family and other relatives, as well as some of my father and brother?s business associates. There were also many of whom I didn?t know: special guests who either had money, or were related in some way to the hospital. I spent more than half a night being shuffled from group to group, my Aunt Cornelia?s hand firm on my elbow as she steered me left and right. By the time dinner was served, the buffet table a mile long, and the endless line of caterers on the ready, I knew I had to get away.
The moment I collided with him and our eyes locked, Fate had written a new page.
And it was fast. From that moment on, we became inseparable. For three months, we spent most of our waking hours, as well as our sleeping moments, with each other, languorously lying in each other?s arms. Andr? Arag?n charmed his way into my life, he made me deliriously happy. He showed me passion and caring, he showed me the world through his eyes, taught me his perceptions of things, showed me his philosophy? Made me his wife.
We married at the Almudena Cathedral in Madrid; the high towers and pillars of a neo-baroque style that took over a century in planning and construction were almost overwhelming. I was getting married to the man I loved, nothing could go wrong. I had felt at the top of the world. It was like being on a constant, never-ending high, where there was only happiness and that goofy smile you just couldn?t detach from your lips.
And when he proclaimed we would spend our honeymoon in Cyprus, I would have collapsed with excitement had he not chosen that moment to kiss me senseless. As I would later find out, the Commandaria vineyard in Cyprus- which is one of, if not the oldest, vineyards worldwide- was the same paradise Cleopatra had once fallen in love with. Mark Anthony then took possession of the island and gave it to his lover as a proclamation of his undying love.
The Commandaria vineyard grows the endemic commandaria grape, which is a grape far larger and sweeter than the regular grapes. I?ve never tasted wine like that. Cyprus is also the birthplace of the goddess Aphrodite; Petra tou Romiou in Pathos was the place from where the Love Goddess rose from the seas into the mortal world, casting her spells of passion and potions for unrequited love.
The few weeks we spent there were, truthfully, the best time I had during my marriage. It was like we had escaped the world and entered a new, magical one. It was just the two of us. Andr? was different there? He used to be different.
Sometimes I think he lied to me.
During the first two years of our marriage, Andr? would take me around the world with him on his business trips. I spent most of my time alone, waiting for him to return; when he did, he would be too tired to do anything else besides sleep. I tried to be understanding, but I knew I was being cast aside: I was no longer his top priority. I always thought that the moment I fell in love, it would be a lifetime deal. I dedicated my existence to my husband: I cherished and loved him. I had fallen in love with that person I had met at the ball, that person who was so spontaneous and loving. I fell in love with the man who listened to every word I said, who kissed me with unearthly passion, and who cradled me at night as if afraid I would run.
But he got lost over the years; he no longer remembered me, no longer loved me. I knew that, he knew that. Perhaps we married too soon, perhaps what we thought was love was just mere passion. Perhaps I had mistaken lust for love. I was his prisoner. For the longest time, I yielded to him because I loved him? because I was afraid of him.
To be continued...
Author?s Note: There are a few things I want to clear out before I continue. I know this prologue was very confusing, especially the first part, but this was how I wanted to write it. The part in italics, was just an introduction, and is key to this story. This story sort of goes backwards, but once you start reading the next parts, you?ll understand what I mean.
I wrote this last part of the prologue in first person because I needed you all to understand Relena, how she felt about their meeting and marriage. I considered it could only be expressed in a first person mode. The rest of the story will be written in third person.
I think that?s it for now. I?m sorry if I confused you! If you still have some doubts, you can ask me about them, and I?ll try to answer without giving the story away. I really hope you liked this prologue. ^^!
...And the first chapter is done. I'm waiting for Cali to send it back. ^^!
Now I'm off to beta the 1st chappie..... 
Oh, and I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think you'll get to meet Heero in the next chappie. -___-;; Maaaaaybe.