Basically my take on what was going on in Riff and Mag's lives before they came to Earth with Frank N Furter. This will be part of a trilogy of sorts; the next fanfic will focus on the events on Earth before the night where Brad and Janet came into the picture, and the one after that will be my own version of a sequel to RHPS. Hope you all enjoy!

The Rocky Horror Picture Show and its characters belong to Richard O'Brien.

Name: Most Beautiful

Genre: Angst/Romance

Fandom: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Rating: M (for child abuse, language, violence, and eventual sex scenes between siblings.)

Summary: "Well, it all started when you were born."

Pairings: Riff Raff/Magenta

Chapter 1: Isn't She Lovely?

The alarm beeped loudly, startling Riff Raff awake. He turned quickly to slap it onto snooze, so that it would not rouse the two people in the room with him. With a long draw of breath he reached to push the faint strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. His face turned to the woman in bed next to him; his sister, his best friend, and his lover. Magenta slept on her stomach, her face turned toward him, eyes shut and wild red hair covering half her face. He leaned over to gently brush it away, before placing a soft kiss on her temple. She stirred slightly, but didn't open her eyes.

Riff Raff got out of the bed, trying to disturb her as little as he could. Sliding on his robe over his pajamas, he walked to where the third member of their little family lie. A baby, less than two weeks old, sound asleep in her bassinet. Red blankets covered the little one up to her chin, and a few short red curls poked their way out of her crocheted hat.

"Is she still sleeping?" came a whisper.

Riff Raff looked up to see that Magenta had opened her eyes and turned to face him. Her black nightgown was wrinkled and loose; easy to remove, in case the child needed to be fed.

"Yes," Riff Raff tiptoed away from the bassinet and toward his sister, wrapping his arms around her before muttering, "and it's a good thing she is; I think this is the first night since she was born that she hasn't woken us up before the alarm."

"Doesn't mean I'm not still tired out of my mind," Magenta said against his chest. "And with all the breastfeeding, my damn boobs have never been this sore."

"I can massage them for you," Riff Raff teased.

"Ha ha." Magenta said sarcastically. She stood up and quietly walked to the baby, reaching in to adjust the blankets before motioning at Riff Raff to follow her out of the room. They barely made their way past the door when the child started to cry.

With a sigh and a mutter of "Damn," Magenta went back into the room. Riff Raff stayed in the doorway and watched as she pulled down part of her nightgown to breastfeed the infant. She cooed soft words to their daughter as she lifted her to her chest.

Their daughter.

Riff Raff still couldn't believe they had a daughter. They'd been on the ship home, merely a day after killing Frank N Furter, when Magenta had told him she was pregnant. Nothing could compare to the shock he'd felt that day. Nothing could compare to the joy he'd felt eight months later when their child, Sienna, had been born.

"I still cannot fathom that we are parents," he said.

Magenta looked up at him. "I still can't fathom that we made it out of that hell hole called Earth and back here."

Riff Raff nodded. "Or that we are able to lead a normal life."

"As much as I dislike Carmilla Furter," Magenta said, "the woman made good on her promise to us."

He nodded. "I'm just happy to be able to spend my life with you, my love."

"It's mutual," Magenta said with a grin, making her way over to him to give him a kiss. Sienna let out a squeak between them.

"How in the universe," Magenta said, shifting her hold so that Sienna was supported better, "did we end up here?"

Now it was Riff Raff's turn to grin. "Well, it all started when you were born."

It was well past bedtime and Mother and Father were still arguing. Riffy was used to it by now, and he wouldn't have minded so much tonight if not for the baby.

Mother's belly was huge, swollen up to twice its normal size. When she told him there was a baby in there, a new sister just for him, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd eaten it. When he'd asked her this she'd brushed him off, but he still had a burning suspicion. How else would a baby find its way into Mother's tummy?

Riffy was three and a half and fairly bright for his age. He questioned everything, and expected no question to go unanswered. Sometimes this made Father angry at him; Riffy's constant "why?" "how come?" and "really?" questions irritated Father enough to earn Riffy smacks across the face. He'd learned quickly not to ask Father anything anymore.

From his questions that got answered by Mother, though, he knew that she had to take it easy because of the baby. Whether she'd eaten it or not, it was growing in there, and growing things didn't need to be hurt.

When he heard the glass break, he winced, curling the blanket tighter around his skinny body. He looked at the bare walls of his room, cracked and blue and dark. There used to be pictures on his wall of himself with his parents, but Father had torn them down and broken them in one of his fits of rage. There were few playthings in the room; a wooden doll missing one of its legs, a dirty little toy car, a few torn coloring books, and a toy laser that didn't light up anymore. These were all Riffy's, and so far he hadn't seen his parents bring home any new toys for the baby. There was a large metal crib for her in the corner of the room, but all it had was a bare mattress. Riffy himself slept on a big cot on the floor, with only a few thin blankets and one dirty pillow.

More yelling drifted through the crack in the doorway. His mother seemed to be screaming now, that was never a good sign. . . . she only screamed when she was really about to cry. He hated it when she cried. He hated that it was Father that made her cry so much. He wished they'd just stop yelling and go to bed. The baby in Mother's belly was probably needing sleep too and couldn't get it because of the argument.

The screaming from Mother continued, but it sounded. . . . different. Different from her usual crying scream. This sounded like a scream of pain. Riffy bolted up in bed. Had Father hit her again? No, he wouldn't, not with the baby in her tummy. . . . maybe he should get up and check. . . .

Riffy slid out the door and tiptoed to the living room, where the argument seemed to be taking place. He was greeted with a confusing sight; his mother was on her knees, clutching her swollen middle, screaming in agony. There was a bit of blood visible on her thigh, and she was yelling "An ambulance, Vandal, get me an ambulance, the baby - !"

Father was on the phone, talking quickly, "My wife, she's going into labor - her name? Lavender Vitus - bleeding out her crotch - dammit, stop screaming, Lavender, I'm trying to talk! - yes - my name is Vandal Vitus - our address -"

"Mother?" Riffy scrambled into the room and toward his mother's bleeding form. He went to put his small hands on her shoulders, but she knocked him away with her arm.

"Stay back, Riffy, Mother's hurt, Mother's in pain. . . ." she was breathing frantically, her blue eyes wide enough to pop out of her head. He went to reach for her again, wanting to help, wanting to save the baby, but his father aimed a kick at him and he was jerked away from her.

"Stay out of it, Riff Raff, you'll just make it worse!" Father snapped, his face the same vivid red as his hair. He'd hung up the phone and turned to his wife. "Ambulance is on the way, you gotta stay calm, Lav - "

"I can't. . . . I'm in so much. . . . pain. . . ." Her eyelids fluttered, and her curly blonde hair was sticking to the sides of her pale face as the sweat rolled down. She leaned back and let out another wheeze. The image of her sitting there, blood now slick against her thighs, staining her short nightgown, making a puddle on the floor. . . . it would be burned into Riffy's mind forever.

The ambulance came within ten minutes, but in those ten minutes Mother started to scream again, this time violently accusing Father of doing something to poison her and the baby. Another argument ensued.

"How dare you insinuate I'd try to kill my daughter, if I wanted you dead I'd wait until she was already born, you fucking bitch, how fucking dare you -"

"You want me gone, don't you, it's what you've always wanted, isn't it Vandal?! You don't even want Riffy, why would you want a daughter as well -"

Riffy had tried to tell them to stop fighting, but this only resulted in more screaming from Father, this time directed at him, and a harsh shove from Mother. So Riffy kept quiet and sat in the corner, aching a bit from his father's kick, watching the blood stain the carpet.

When the paramedics finally arrived his mother was lifted onto a stretcher and carried out of the apartment. Father followed after them, yelling about how he "didn't poison the bitch."

No one seemed to remember Riffy, or see him sitting there in the living room corner. When the ambulance drove away with Father hurrying his car after them, he was left alone.

Twelve hours passed.

He slept a bit. Went to the fridge and got some sweets. Turned on the television. Played with his toy laser. Avoided the broken glass and bloodstains on the floor. He was grateful for the house to be so quiet, for once. He was so used to hearing his parents yelling at each other or the sounds of something breaking that silence had become golden to him. It never occurred to him until he was older that he had been completely abandoned for a good half a day, and that this was quite illegal. But in that moment, he was merely happy to be without so much noise.

He could eventually hear them arguing again outside the door over the sounds of the television. When it opened, Father was running his hand through his receding red hair and going on about how Mother had overreacted, the pain couldn't have been that bad, she was just angry because she'd ruined her precious carpet with all the blood. Mother was saying to hush up or he'd wake the baby, and that no, she certainly was not angry about that, that was not her fault, it was his fault she'd been in such an emotional state anyway. . . .

In truth, Riffy was a bit too focused on the red bundle of blankets in his mother's arms to really hear what they were saying. Mother was holding it carefully, as if whatever was inside was made of the finest of glass. Riffy followed her into his room, where his father parted ways with them and made a beeline for the master bedroom.

Mother began softly murmuring to the bundle, and told Riffy to come look as she laid it down in the bare crib. He saw a tiny pink hand slip outside of the blankets, and when he pressed his pale little face to the bars, he could see the baby's head: round and red, with no hair, closed eyes, pouty lips, and a squashed in little nose.

"Mother," he whispered, "why does she look so ugly?"

At this his mother smacked him on the back of the head, scolding, "Don't you ever call your sister ugly again, Riff Raff, how would you like it if someone called you ugly?"

Riffy was quiet, but he still thought the same thing in his head: his little sister was ugly. But Mother smiled and reached in to stroke one of those ruddy cheeks and whispered, "Her name is Magenta. Isn't she lovely?"