A new story? really? Well, yeah. I've been plagued with so many little plot bunnies for VaughnxChelsea that would only work in a longfic that I've decided to actually start one. How far will it get? Hopefully to the end. What is the end? I have no idea. xD

Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters.

She sat on the highest branch of the apple tree, her face lifted up to the warm sun, her eyes shut peacefully. A light breeze, one of those warm breezes unique to the early summertime, blew through the tree. The leaves rustled and swayed, and wisps of her coppery hair flew around her head. The soft tinkling of her mother's wind chime could be heard from the porch. Her lips pulled up into a small smile. This was why she loved her life. It was things like this moment that made her the happiest girl on earth. Her legs dangled freely high above the grass, and she felt like she could be flying. She inhaled the last of the breeze—it smelled of freshly cut grass and the sweet smell of damp earth.

"Chelsea! Come inside, Honey! It's time for lunch!"

Her blue eyes snapped open, her smile growing as she quickly surveyed the thriving farm around her. She couldn't wait to start her own. Swinging herself down the branches, she avoided the small beehive on the lowest branch, and firmly planted her feet on the ground. She looked over her shoulder to the front porch, where her mother stood in the doorway of the farmhouse. She nodded and turned towards the house.

"What's on the menu today, Ma?" Chelsea asked her mother as they walked inside. Her blue eyes danced.

"Peanut butter and honey sandwiches. What else?" Her mother answered, her own blue eyes playful.

They sat at the small wooden table in the middle of their home and dug into their food. There was no food Chelsea loved more than honey; ever since she was a little baby, her mother had told her that she was addicted to the stuff. She had lost count of all of the bee stings she'd received throughout her childhood when she tried to harvest her own honey from the beehive. Whenever she'd get those stings, she'd always try to pretend that it didn't hurt. Her mother would always tell her that that was just like her father.

Her father. Chelsea smiled slightly at the thought of him. Her mother always said that they were so similar, but her father had claimed that Chelsea was more like her father. It always made her laugh when they would start to argue about it—they were both stubborn as a pair of mules, but they were also the kindest people she'd ever known. Although, according to her Auntie, her father was at one point one of the coldest people in the town… Until, of course, he'd met Chelsea's mother.

Chelsea's mother had long blonde hair and dark, sapphire-like eyes. She was getting some laugh lines around her eyes, and her hair was gradually turning a little bit gray here and there, but she still acted like a little kid. Chelsea believed that she had more of her mother's personality and her father's looks. He had a lighter blue eye color and coppery hair, just like Chelsea did. She did, however, inherit her mother's dusting of freckles across her nose.

Chelsea and her mother looked up as the front door opened. The heavy footsteps of her father sounded on the hardwood floor. He hung up his beige coat and his blue cap before making his way over to the table and giving Chelsea's mother a quick kiss. He seated himself across from Chelsea, where her mother had already set his food.

"How was work?" Chelsea asked, taking a big bite of her sandwich. He leaned back, smirking slightly.

"Your old grandpa sure likes to boss his employees around," he said, "And he still just sits and watched all day."

"I'm honestly surprised he's still so feisty," Chelsea's mother said, wiping her hands on a napkin, "How old is he now? He was at least eighty when Chelsea was born, and that was almost twenty years ago…"

"He's just too stubborn to finally die," her father muttered.

"Gray!" Chelsea's mother exclaimed, shocked, "How can you say that?"

"Relax, Claire. I was just kidding." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, right. I'm sure that was just meant to be funny." She retorted, rolling of her own eyes.

Chelsea leaned back in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from snickering. Her parents were such a funny couple.

* * *

Later that night, after her parents had already been sleeping for several hours, Chelsea sat on her bed. She had her window open and let the moon illuminate her room instead of her lamp. She sighed as a soft gust of warm air blew in and made the newspaper clipping in front of her dance. She put her hand on it, keeping it from blowing away. She read it over for the umpteenth time since she'd found it the previous week.

Are you tired of your current life, or do you just want a change of scenery? Come to Flowerbud Village, a small-yet-thriving farming town! We have many spacious plots of land available for you to start up your very own farm! For your choice of acreage, a furnished farmhouse, and tools, it will cost upwards from only 1000G! Call now: XOL – QCXO

She sighed once more, her gaze turning to the sock full of coins she'd been saving up for her very own farm. It had been almost ten years since she'd started collecting her savings, and it was all in case something like this came up. She had nearly 2500G—probably enough for a plot and a good amount of seeds, or maybe a chicken coop. She'd decided to call the number just a couple days after she'd seen the advertisement, but she had only just resolved to actually leave.

She wasn't able to tell her parents. She didn't know how they'd react, and that scared her. She figured that she'd leave a note and the ad from the paper, and then she'd call or write to them after she got there. After she'd gotten her farm working, she'd come back to visit. She nodded to herself. It was a done deal.

She stood up off her bed and grabbed her red rucksack, which she'd filled with a change of clothes, her money, some toiletries, and a picture of her family taken when she was four years old. She loved that picture—it was taken in the middle of spring, and the backdrop of the picture had been the budding crop field. She was sitting on her father's shoulders, wearing his cap. Her mother was leaning on Chelsea's father, laughing. Her father was trying his best to look annoyed, but anyone could see that he was perfectly content.

Chelsea slung the pack over her shoulder and secured her red bandana on her head. She quietly scribbled a note out on a scrap of paper:

Mom, Dad—

I found that farm I've always wanted! See how cheap it is? I'm headed to Flowerbud Village, and then I'll give you a call or maybe write a letter, in case I don't have a phone right away. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before, but I promise that this is the opportunity that we've been waiting for!

I love you more than anything in the world,

Chelsea XOXO

She stuck the note on the refrigerator with the newspaper clipping and crept out the front door. She scanned over the sleeping farm where she grew up for the last time. And then, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes, she hurried to the beach to catch her four o'clock ferry.

And there's the prologue. Different, yeah? I love Graire, as those who've seen my other fics can confirm. So, hey, why not combine favorite pairings? xP

Review, please, and tell me what you think. Oh, and sit tight--we'll get to the good stuff sooner than you may expect. I think.