Leander Delacroix - D2

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little girl with long, dark hair, blue eyes, and a dream to blossom into something greater, but this is no princess story. Miracles didn't happen and fairy tales were fabricated bedtime stories meant to comfort ignorant children. If you want something, you work for it. Prince charming won't give it to you. Or, if one wanted, they could create their own prince charming. The princes were always the saviors, right? They were the end of a story, the blessing cast down upon the princess to reward her with happiness and marriage and eternal peace. Unfortunately, Leanne and Arielle were two little girls who would never find their prince charming - not without a little intervention of their own.

"This is the only way, Ari," She had said, and she never regretted it, not once. The plan, the process, it was all part of her ingenious scheme to escape life as a lost princess and find the world of princes, the only royalty the people of this district would actually notice. "Look around. Do any of the girls ever get adopted in this place? No. People want big, strong, career boys, and while we may not be big or strong we can be if you just follow along." And then she had revealed the scissors and raised them to her own locks of dark brown hair. She hacked and hacked until the floor was littered with bundles of fallen hair, neglecting to keep it neat or straight. It was a mess of strands dangling at awkward angles, but it was shorter than her ears. It no longer emphasized her angular jaw or covered her small forehead. Her hair was just like theirs, now - sloppy, but very similar. And now it was Arielle's turn. She was a bit more hesitant about executing the mischievous plan, she always had been and always would be, but Leanne was persuasive in her own, aggressive ways. She hadn't forced her, but many pep talks were required before Arielle would finally submit. It was a painstaking process, but worth the risks and the arguments. There was a glorious new life that awaited them if they took the proper steps, and Leanne had been bold enough to steal this opportunity and drag her sister down the path with her.

Thus, Leanne and Arielle became Leander and Archer Delacroix.

The plan was simple if one ignored the details. Leanne and Ariella would "run away" and vanish into the mist for eternity. In reality, however, they were merely switching roles. The orphanage was split into two sections: boys and girls, separated due to past conflicts with teenagers and raging hormones. Ariella and Leanne, the identities, would vanish from existence, but the two girls were actually just fleeing to the other side - hair cropped short, skirts exchanged for baggy pants - to join the boys. They created their own new identities and classified themselves as abandoned children, because while their female identities were their honest identities the rate of female adoption was extremely low in their orphanage. Nobody wants the needy little princesses, just the strong, charming princes. But that wasn't the only thing that had compelled her to abandon her old life.

I've always felt different. She was always the odd one when the children played. She was much more active, more physical, and less interested in the other children's little dolls and stupid games. It was too boring. What she wanted was adventure, to embark on a quest that would get her adrenaline kicking. She had always been somewhat of a troublemaker with a dangerous side, and this devious plot was a result. It was the perfect journey, her ideal method of trashing the old and finding the excitement. If only her dear sister could agree.

Once they were adopted by an adoring couple willing to train them as careers, Arielle Archer grew hesitant about maintaining his new identity. He never seemed to be pleased with the lifestyle. Keeping secrets was difficult, yes, especially when it meant little physical contact with other people, but for Leander this pretend "gender change" was permanent. He would never choose to return to his previous life, even if Archer desperately craved it. "This is our life now, Arch. We can't change it, and I won't let you." Why would Leander ever want to return? He was stronger, educated, he had a real family and real friends and real respect. He even had money. The training center was like a home, where he could bond with his weapons and embrace his new found strength. Nobody would ever suspect his true identity after they watched him fight. He was a warrior with natural talent; a swordsman, a spear man, an expert on large, short-ranged weapons, not to mention he had the aggression of an overprotective lion guarding her cubs. Who wouldn't want the glory? Right, Archie?

And then there was school. Friends, popularity. connections, Leander had everything he always wanted and more. He was caught in a web of pride and selfishness that his brother could not sever. Why would he want to become a girl again, anyway? His fellow careers would demean him, mock him, and cast him out of the peer group in the blink of an eye. It was too late for them, there was no changing their minds at the last minute. They would be labeled abominations if they dared speak of their true identities. And what about their parents? Even they didn't know the secret. What would happen if they spilled everything? They could be abandoned, outcast, returned to the orphanage before they could even protest. They could become lonely, miserable losers again, and rot in the orphanage until they turned eighteen. Then, they would have to rot on the streets, or in a shack. They would be nothing without family, without everything they worked for, everything Leander had sweat and bled for. I've come this far, there's no way I'm going back. Not even if Archer begs me. If anything, Archer was the only person trying to ruin his life, he just didn't understand why.

Nowadays, Leander is trapped. He treads unsafe grounds as his brother continues to question their future, but refuses to acknowledge himself as what he used to be, despite what his body tells him everyday when he dresses himself in the morning. Sports bras, binders, hoodies, baggy pants, anything to hide the truth from the public. It works well. People rarely question his high voice and feminine facial structure because he spends so much time trying to chisel his body into something too masculine to misjudge. He keeps his hair wild to avert the eyes, shapes his muscles to satisfy the district's desire for careers with six packs, and even purchased himself a few tattoos to amplify the illusion. As long as he keeps his hands to himself (which isn't easy, he enjoys being sleazy) and remains cautious, nobody will ever suspect or discover. He considers his life a damn good one, but currently faces the dilemma of Archer ruining all of it. It won't be a simple task, persuading his brother each day to keep his mouth shut, but he doesnt have a choice. It is either this life, or a life of hell, and the choice is obvious. You'll understand someday, Archer, and then you'll thank me.