Disgaea Fan Fiction ❯ Simple Memories ❯ Chapter 1

Title: Simple Memories

Series: Disgaea

Rating: PG (god, I hardly ever get away with that.)

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Spoilers for the Photo Chapter and Disgaea in General.

Characters: Laharl, Etna, Flonne

Disclaimer: I don't own Disgaea, it belongs to NipponIchi software and its US distributors.

 

Author's Notes: Just a short drabble, nothing special really. Always wondered what the picture Etna took of Laharl was, and here's my humble take on it. It's hard to picture the evil lovin' wannabe demon king as cute, but here it goes. Update: I know the picture was of him cross dressing, but I like this idea better. It's a bit cuter and not so cliché. And I can't picture Laharl in a frilly dress anyway.

 

* * ^__^ * *

 

Laharl shut the massive wooden door to his room with a hollow bang as it feel closed on its hinges. Not even a sigh escaped the young prince's lips. He wouldn't allow it. The days however, had been long, with Etna and Flonne to make them so.

 

He swore. With vassals like Etna, who needed enemies? And Flonne...well, a bottomless pit wouldn't be deep enough to lose the love-freak. All this business of restoring his rightful place was certainly tiring.

 

A short nap, as his mother would define a nap, was in order. None of the sleeping for so long. There was something fishy about that, he had only meant to nap a short time, but he had overslept before. But right through his father's death?

 

Orphan was the word his Mother would've used. It tasted human, so he threw it out. He walked to a loose floorboard in the room and pried it up. It was still there, then again, it wasn't like anyone came in here. And if they did, well, they wouldn't make it out alive. If they found what was inside it would be an instant death sentence.

 

It wouldn't do at all to have the underworld know that Prince Laharl kept something like this. It wouldn't do at all.

 

Hands pulled up the stuffed bear, grizzled fur matting in-between his fingers. It wore a bright read bow-tie around his neck proudly. His mother... she had made the bear for him, had told him it was a custom among human children, to have a stuffed animal.

 

For the longest time, he would go nowhere without the bear. It followed him to battles, to parties, anywhere his mother took him, he would go with the bear. When he had fallen ill, every night his mother tucked the bear tightly beside him as she never left his side.

 

Then, his mother had died, unexpectedly. He had gotten better, also unexpectedly. Shortly thereafter, he had hidden the bear. Only occasionally now did he pull out the rated animal.

 

It was all her fault. Flonne, the love-freak angel in training. She almost reminded him of his mother, and that was an association he didn't like.

 

I should have thrown this thing into the volcano like I said I did years ago, he thought bitterly. But he couldn't make himself move. He remembered sitting next to his mother as she sewed the bear, slowly, lovingly, how she had even jokingly given it fangs, so it wouldn't stand out too much in the Underworld. As far as Laharl knew, he was the only demon child to ever sleep with a stuffed animal.

 

Picking it up, he walked over to his bed and lay down inside, arms around the bear. One more time wouldn't hurt. Though he didn't like to admit it, it did feel good to sleep with it. And here, no one would know and he'd hide it again in the morning. It was all Flonne's fault anyway.

 

Arms wrapped tightly around the toy he swore he could still smell his mother on, Laharl's eyes drifted shut for a short nap.

 

* * *

 

Etna poked her head in Laharl's bed room, “Your Highness?” She asked, announcing her presence, “You up in there? Hey, YOUR HIGHNESS!?”

 

She poked her head in a little farther and listened. Snoring. Letting herself in, Etna moved forward to stand over the bed of the young Demon prince. At what she saw, she could hardly stop from laughing out loud. Maderas would love this. Of course, it was all part of the master plan.

 

Though, hadn't Laharl thrown that old thing out years ago? It was kind of strange, seeing the prince like this. She pulled out a camera, and wings twitching with the effort she exerted to keep from laughing, she snapped a photo.

 

Perfect. Blackmail.

 

Laharl, the Prince of the Netherworld, son of the Great King Krichevskoy and one of the most powerful human Witches of all time, sleeping with a teddy bear. She couldn't have asked for anything more perfect if she posed him herself.

 

Snapping a couple more photos, making sure he looked extremely childish in one, Etna left as quickly and quietly as she came.

 

“Etna-san,” Flonne's voice worked into her reprieve, in the hallway “Why are you laughing so loudly? Did something fun happen?”