(A/N) Hello there! Whoo, I got up another fic. It's a bit drabbly, but I rather like it. I recently got to the chapter with the Prinny reincarnation in Disgaea, so I got the idea for this after findin' out about Big Sis Prinny. Wrote this in about... oh, I don't know. 15, 20 minutes? Heh. So, make sure to review so I can know if my efforts were good or bad, 'kay? And in case you're wondering, I found a sprite of Laharl's mother on the Internet, as well as a rough sketch, so my description of her should be accurate. If it's not, tell me so I can fix it. Much thanks.
Obligated disclaimer: Disgaea belongs to Nippon Ichi, not me.
They're so similar, Laharl thought.
A short boy sat on an intricate throne, his elbow on his bare right knee, propping up his chin with his hand, fingers curled into his palm to form a fist. Crimson eyes, hidden under spiky blue hair, stared off into the distance while a girl with long blonde hair, a blue ribbon adorning her golden locks, stood next to the throne, rattling off the day's duties for the Netherworld's very own Overlord.
"...Then at one, you've got that appearance at Sea of Gehenna..." she said cheerfully, reading from a list scrawled on a notepad, her fingertip pressed to the paper at the task she was currently listing off. Laharl just nodded absentmindedly, glancing once at Flonne, watching her azure eyes scan the page as she continued to read, her voice fading from his ears.
Most of his memories of her were gone, although some did linger. A gentle touch, a soft voice, a kind smile. He could vaguely remember her face; round and kind, short brown hair falling haphazardly over her face and brown eyes as she took Laharl's young hands in hers, giggling and cooing nonsense words to him.
She was very unlike other mothers in the Netherworld. That could be attributed to the fact that she was human, though. King Krichevskoy had fallen in love with the girl, a witch that had come to the Netherworld to study. She and the Overlord were married, and eventually Laharl had been born.
Laharl knew there was a period when he had fallen ill, although most of his memories of it were lost to him. He did know it had been a sickness the likes of which Krichevskoy had not encountered before. Its only cure had been for one that loved him to take their life.
And just like that, she was gone. Those brown eyes, the kind smile; all of it was gone.
Laharl wondered why he had forgotten everything she had taught him. I want my son to be loving and kind, she had said to him once, smiling brightly. You're such a sweet boy, Laharl. You'll grow up to be a great man someday.
Had her death caused him to grow cynical? He shunned love after her death, called it weakness. After all, that was what caused her demise. She had died to save his life, because she loved him so dearly.
Then Flonne came. Stupid angel... she made one awful assassin. Laharl thought wryly. She had come at first to assassinate King Krichevskoy, but upon learning of his death - from his son, no less - she had decided to join with Laharl, on the terms of monitoring his behavior, see if he knew about love or some other sort of nonsense. She spoke of love and kindness so much, it was a bit difficult for Laharl to discern each instance.
She acted just like his mother. She put so much importance on love and kindness. She smiled often, watched out for Laharl in battle. Laharl had the feeling his mother was just as ditzy as Flonne. Had she been alive, maybe they would have even been friends. The thought of it made Laharl snort derisively.
Flonne blinked, looking up from her pad at this sound. "Laharl? Are you okay?" she asked him curiously. Laharl blinked and looked over at Flonne. For a brief moment, he saw short brown hair instead of blonde, brown eyes instead of blue. Then he blinked, and it was gone, giving way to Flonne's visage.
Laharl chuckled. "Nah. I'm fine. What were you saying again?" he said, smiling to himself. Flonne blinked, then continued as if she had never been interrupted. Laharl chuckled again, and looked in the other direction, propping his elbow on the arm of the throne and staring off into the distance again, a smile still on his lips.
Yes... they probably would have gotten along quite well.