Authors Note: If you are picky about your fairytales staying perfect, read no further.

If you would like a little twist on a lovely pairing, a little amusement and an entertaining read... you've come to the right place!

I'll save the rambling for afterwards, since I know most people don't even read this...

I proudly present:

S. MORGENSTERN'S CLASSIC TALE OF TRUE LOVE AND HIGH ADVENTURE

(the Kanda and Allen version)

"I can't sleep," the young boy complained between coughs and sneezes. He accepted a Kleenex from his caretaker, an elderly man with shaggy hair who reclined on a chair beside the boy's bed.

"Then how about I tell you a story," the man asked, sitting up a little straighter. He leaned forward and his eyes gleamed.

"What kind?" the boy asked, sniffling.

"A classic. A tale of true love and high adventure."

"Well, the true love part sounds rather dreary, but okay. Is it going to be morally educating?"

"I'll try and edit out those parts."

The boy smiled. "Okay. I'll try and not fall asleep, then."

"You do that," the man grinned and cracked his knuckles. He stretched and scooted his chair closer to the boy. "Our story begins on a farm, on the outskirts of a very different London-town…"

The Walker family was quite famous in the small town of Florin, on the far outskirts of London (not the London you know, one far past anyone's memory, one that only books remember). Yes, all fifty inhabitants of the town knew the Walker family for two reasons: one, they owned the largest farm and nicest stable, and two, they were doused in tragedy (all good stories almost always begin with tragedy, you see). The fourteenth heir of the Walker family died a sudden and mysterious death many years ago, leaving everything to his frail, younger brother, one Mana Walker.

Mana Walker lived alone for a year after his beloved brother's death, until the family gained a new member. (I say gained because this one wasn't from the Walker family, exactly, he was actually- well, you'll see.) Mana Walker made frequent trips to London town, taking a strange amount of delight in the circus shows that stopped often in the city squares. One day, the neighbors noted, Mana Walker went out as usual, but came back not alone. Clinging to his arm and tripping alongside him was a tiny child. They discovered it was a boy; upon first glance they assumed it to be a decrepit old man for this child had hair the color of moonshine.

A circus freak for sure, they said, and dismissed the boy. For many years the boy was closed off from society; people did not know what to think of him and thus did not like the sight of him, and Mana was unnaturally protective of Allen (for that was his name).

But as the years progressed, the tiny thing that had nearly fallen over his feet at every step grew into a fine young man. Allen Walker, people began to say, had the most pleasing eyes. Have you seen them? Like an April drizzle on the banks of the Thames, so gentle, so soft. Liquid silver if I ever saw it.

At eight years of age, Allen was the pride of Florin. Little Allen Walker, running errands for poor, sick Mana, was the sweetest thing since the discovery of honey. Red ribbon around his neck, always dolled up like a right gentlemen— white gloves even in summer!—and always so polite.

Yet still, people kept their distance. Mustn't touch porcelain dolls, parents told their ruffian children, or else they shall break. Allen Walker is the doll of this village, so don't you dare include him in your roughhousing!

Children, however, do not understand the complexities of society, nor the pedestal upon which things of unearthly, strange beauty stand. So they invented sensible excuses for Allen Walker's detachment from the townspeople; childish, cruel things, like how he was in fact the ghost of an old man and thus couldn't be touched, or that he was incredibly daft and had no brain, but their favorite was this: Allen Walker was a cursed child. Cursed from the very day of his birth (Christmas, actually, isn't that funny?) by some wicked banshee or vengeful spirit.

So the children, having been nursed by their own tall tales, were afraid and stayed away. Their parents, in awe and confusion over the odd angel-child, were also afraid and stayed away.

Thus, Allen Walker passed his childhood years in the quiet company of his beloved father Mana and his dear horse Tim. The townsfolk were pleasant enough whenever he should journey into town, but for the most part Allen, young as he was, could sense the uneasy aura that followed him everywhere, and so preferred to spend the majority of his time out on the farm. Tim, who had been a newly born foal when Allen entered the Walker family, was his closest friend.

When Allen Walker turned thirteen, there was an interesting change in his life. It was not the sort of change that can be compared to the difference between night and day, or before and after a hurricane, but more like a morning when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and you realize though different, it is not really the 'wrong' side- why, it feels just the same, so why should it matter?

Perhaps that made no sense. Perhaps it did. Metaphors aside, here was what happened to Allen Walker when he turned thirteen.

"This is Yuu Kanda," Mana said, gesturing to a lanky thing that was either a skinny, flat-chested girl or a rather effeminate boy. "He is going to be our new stable boy." Ah, a boy.

"Call me Kanda," the new stable boy muttered, eyes flashing though his tone was restrained into politeness.

"It's nice to meet you," Allen held out a hand, "you can call me Allen."

Kanda raised an eyebrow at the silky white gloves that forever covered Allen's hands, and shook the offered hand as though it were diseased. He released it at once, bowed stiffly, low enough that his long black hair and choppy bangs shaded his eyes, and excused himself from the room.

"He's a nice boy," Mana was saying, "a little uptight, but he is here because of a favor I owe his father, so I'll have to ask you to put up with any steeliness from him, Allen. He's excellent with horses though."

Allen nodded, but the words did not register. His hand was still tingling from Kanda's touch.

"And they become friends, right?" the boy asked, blowing his nose.

"Friends?"

"Yeah… I mean, it's not like they could become lovers," the younger said, rolling his eyes.

"And why not?" queried his elder with curious amusement.

That caught the boy off guard. He blushed a little and fidgeted. "W-Well, they're both…guys, right?"

"What's wrong with that? Have you ever heard the saying 'love is blind'? Well, in their case it was deaf too."

"Deaf? What do you mean?"

"I'll have to skip those parts. Kanda's speech towards Allen before he comes to sense is quite inappropriate for young children like yourself."

"Comes to sense…?"

"Falls in love."

"Are you serious? Can you skip all of that then? This is such a weird story," the boy groaned, burying himself deeper under the covers.

"Alright, but you won't mind so much someday. And you will have to know about it later—"

"I know, I know, but not now. Get to the good parts!"

"Very well, very well. So, as I have told you, Kanda and Allen came to become friends over the years, and eventually, albeit a bit slowly, the two idiots came to realize they were meant to be together."

"What kind of story has two idiots as the protagonists?" the boy mumbled.

"A real one," replied the man. "Do you still want to hear it?"

"Yes…"

"Then kindly shut up and listen. So, Kanda and Allen fell in love."

When Allen Walker turned seventeen, his favorite pastimes were listening to Mana play the piano, riding Tim around the pastures, and most of all: teasing Kanda when he returned from his rides.

"I want to see my face shining in this saddle by morning, Kanda," he ordered, though the grin on his face gave him away.

"Can't get enough of your ugly face in the mirror?" Kanda replied, leading Tim into the stable.

"What was that?" Allen asked innocently. "For a moment it sounded like you insulted your employer, stable boy. Now, I said I want that saddle pristine. And what did you say?"

"As you fucking wish," Kanda replied, glaring as he pitchforked hay into Tim's stall. Allen laughed like a bell and left. Halfway out the door he stopped, looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"I love you too, stupid Kanda."

Kanda's glare eased at Allen's routine confession, and he sighed. "Go, beansprout. You'll be late for dinner."The stable boy returned to work, expecting the boy to leave, but when Kanda looked up again, Allen was in front of him. "Oi…"

"Kiss me." Allen demanded without bashfulness.

Kanda stared at Allen for a long minute, watched a dusting of pale pink settle on his nose. He stabbed the pitchfork into the ground and crossed the minimal distance between them. His arms wound around Allen's slim waist and Allen's arms looped around his neck, and as he leaned down in that same instant Kanda whispered:

"As you wish."

"You're kidding me… you said you would skip those parts!" the boy whined.

"Oh, but that first part was just too cute to skip."

"Well, skip the rest, because I don't want to hear it."

"Picky, picky. Fine. You're sick, and I promised. Now, Allen is seventeen and Kanda is about twenty when it happens."

"What?"

"They're set on being with each other forever, but Kanda won't rely on Allen's support, so…"

As summer died on Allen's seventeenth year, Kanda decided to leave.

"You're really doing this?" Allen asked, watching as Kanda hoisted his bag over his shoulder and made for the gate.

"Of course," Kanda replied in what should have been a brusque tone, but his voice wavered a little too much.

"I don't want you to leave," Allen stated, leaning against the fence next to the gate.

"I don't want to leave. But I refuse to let you take care of both of us, so I must go."

"Kanda…"

"I'm not leaving you, stupid bean. I'll be back."

"…then why does it feel like I'll never see you again," Allen whispered, but it was the next word that made Kanda turn around. "Yuu?"

They fell into each other's arms after that, and though Kanda's grip was bordering painful, Allen relished it and clung to his love, clenching his fist into Kanda's shirt.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Kanda murmured into Allen's moonshine hair. "Weren't you the one who always read fairytales when we were kids? Didn't you learn anything?"

"We're not exactly a fairytale couple, you know."

"Look. Just…wait for me." Kanda began blushing here, and when Kanda blushed, something epic was about to be said. He dug his chin into the top of Allen's head and breathed, "I…love…you. Okay? So just wait, and I'll come back and we can leave this shitty town."

"Then I'll wait," Allen said, and took a step back. "I'll always wait for you, but that doesn't mean you can keep me waiting, stable boy! Now kiss me goodbye and go so you can come back the quicker!"

And Kanda did.

Life was not to be so sweet for Allen Walker in the time to come, for shortly after the departure of his love, Allen's world broke.

Mana Walker was killed by an out of control carriage. The death was instantaneous, and Allen never got a chance to say goodbye to his father. In fact, he never got to see the body. Too bloody for his eyes, people explained, but those explanations did more damage than good. Allen Walker was now alone. He had no family and no friends and his love was miles away, only God knew where. Well, he still had Tim, and that was something.

Allen completely severed himself from the town. He had everything he needed to live on the farm anyway- the only reason he'd been going to town before was for little things Mana required. But now that Mana was gone…

Allen spent his time in one of two ways: eating or riding. Eating was a great comfort, and Allen grew to have quite the appetite. Yet no food could fill the hole left in his heart, and so even after eating a large (and when I say large, I mean enormous) meal, the boy still felt empty.

Riding he adopted as a distraction from the pain. He became quite a proficient rider, and as Tim grew, he became quite a proficient horse.

Now after such distress and agony that Allen Walker went through, most people emerge with hollow cheeks and lifeless eyes, all pasty-looking and wispy-haired. Allen Walker, as you might have guessed, is not like most people.

No, for as the years went by, Allen Walker became even more beautiful. So beautiful (almost androgynously depending on the angle) that he may have surpassed all the most beautiful women and all the most handsome men at the time for the spot on the most beautiful list. And he was only yet eighteen.

His hair had always been the first thing people noticed, and now it was chin length and glossy and beautiful moonbeam white, shaggy bangs falling only just into his eyes and framing his face ever so nicely.

His eyes had neither been weakened nor reddened by sorrow; rather the sadness seemed to have deepened them, and if it hadn't been possible to drown in Allen Walker's eyes before, one could most certainly spend an eternity there now.

Thanks to all his hours spend out of doors, his skin had tanned just enough to give him a healthy glow, and any baby fat he ever had had long since disappeared. Lean, sinewy muscle took its place, and you could most definitely say that Allen Walker was the most handsome person anyone in Florin (in all of England too, actually) had ever seen.

Allen pieced himself together (or perhaps I should use a sewing metaphor here, for you see his world didn't break entirely just yet- he still had Kanda to wait for, you know?) and got on with his life. At the end of his eighteenth year, he began to start reading and studying again, and even considered getting a proper job in London. He wouldn't let Kanda take care of him when he returned- their relationship had to be an equal one. Kanda would never let him live it down if it were otherwise.

When Allen celebrated his nineteenth birthday, he felt better enough to invite a few of the neighbors over, and had a small party. No one had actually seen Allen in close proximity since Mana's death, and he shocked them. Word of his beauty spread far and wide and mostly without his knowledge after that incident.

And then, when life appeared to get better, Allen Walker's world shattered. (This time when I say shattered, I mean exploded into a thousand little pieces that then crumbled into dust.)

"Kanda is dead?" he repeated hollowly to the messenger.

"I'm afraid so, Mister Walker, sir," the messenger said, eyes flickering from the ground to Allen's face. "His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Crowley."

"The one who takes no prisoners," Allen whispered, and the messenger nodded.

"I am truly sorry."

Perhaps, the children from his youth were right. Perhaps Allen Walker was cursed.

"Wait, wait, wait."

"What is it now?" the man asked with a small sigh.

"Kanda dies?"

"I said that, didn't I?"

"That makes no sense."

"Why not? Humans are mortal—"

"But he's the hero, isn't he? Isn't he in love with Allen?"

"Love does not make you immortal."

"But-!"

"How about you let me finish the story and then we can debate this?"

"…fine."

The man smiled and began again.

"On the third year since Kanda left, and one year since news of his death, Allen was visited by a very interesting character."

"Prince Tyki Mikk," the royal guard proclaimed, "awaits you outside."

Allen blinked and followed the guard to the end of his driveway (they didn't have cars back then, but this driveway was for carriages and what not). There, arrayed in luxurious attire, was a tall, tan man with thick, curly brown hair and almost golden brown eyes. He (the Prince) dismounted from his black stallion and immediately took Allen's gloved hand in his, and kissed it.

"You are truly more stunning in person, Allen Walker," he smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "You'll be perfect."

"I'm sorry, er, your highness, but what is all this about?" Allen asked, withdrawing his hand carefully. Tyki didn't let him, catching his fingers and holding them.

"My problem is this. My father is quite old, you see, and no one really expects him to live past the winter."

"That is a shame. I'm very sorry," Allen said, at once fully sympathetic. He even squeezed Tyki's hand.

"And his last desire is to see me married," Tyki continued. "So I look for a suitable bride."

"I'm afraid I can't help you there," Allen shook his head, "I'm rather a recluse myself. If you want names of eligible bachelorettes, I could direct you to my neighbor, Mister Bak Chan—"

"No, no, you misunderstand. I've already found one." Tyki's smile widened. "You, Allen Walker, are going to be my bride."

"Oh, isn't that nice—wait… EHHH?!"

A/N: Oh-ho-ho! And so concludes PART I. There shall be more... probably by next week. (For those of you who read Sugar Free, it's in the works, promise, it's just kind of stuck in a ditch at the moment. Don't worry, I called the Brute Squad to help me get it out. Lawl.)

Kanda was possibly a little OOC...sorry about that, but goddammit I wanted to write this story and write it I did, so neener! :P I hope he was enjoyable at least.

I tried to keep the writing style similar to that of the actual novel, hence the rambling/interruptions. Tell me if it worked, yes? It's quite a different way of writing than I'm used to...

Oh, and if anyone guesses who's telling the story, perhaps I'll do a chapter dedication or something? Lol, I don't know, is that even worth anything? xD

Review if you liked it~ reviews shall be used to dry my tears after the SAT... har-har-har... xD (I don't know if I'm joking or not.)