A/n: This is the first chapter of the first segment of the Temperance Saga I am working on. This story does contain some violence, alcohol use, and hints at some mature themes. For now I have placed it in the 'T' section as they are very vague in nature and references, however as the story progresses (and as I get to other segments) they may be placed in 'M'. This is mainly because the story starts off light, and gradually gets darker. Anyways, this is the first chapter, and as you see it is short. Many of these pieces are short as they are just glimpses of what is happening. As you progress further into the story, these pieces will soon fit together and explain themselves.

Also, this story contains Shojo-ai. It is not a major plot point to this segment, so what you see of it here is minimal, but as the series progresses, you'll see a bit more of it. This over all story, however, focuses on some interesting family dynamics, that I guess was partially inspired by the title of one of Kaki King's singles: 'Gay Sons of Lesbian Mothers' It made me curious as to how mother and son would connect if the mother was a lesbian, especially if the son (in this case, Yamato) is over zealous in regards to his desire to know his father.

Anyways, the philosophical stuff can wait for later. Enjoy and review ^.^.

My Sweet Prince

By: Kieriann

I Picture

Mat was amazed that he was here again. The elevator alerted him that he had reached the floor of his childhood home. The roars of the streets of Tokyo were distant from this height, up here in the penthouse. He knew, however, that if he were to make the trek upstairs to the master bedroom – to his mother's and lover's former room, there was a balcony. That balcony watched over the city, the lights twinkling like distinctive stars.

He moved slowly throughout the abandoned apartment, and slipped through the darkened hallway with ease. Mat passed the doors to either side of him before he came to a stop in at the room at the end of the hall. With a flick of the light, his orbs of brown and blue settled uneasily on the staircase leading to the master suite. He tore his eyes away, and instead allowed them to settle on the study room he now stood in. The computer in the left corner hummed lifelessly, a layer of thick dust coating it. In the center of the room as always, was a baby grand piano, as black as the starless sky of midnight. Eyes scanned the majestic instrument as it rested, forlorn and missing the sensation of soft, warm, human touch. He tentatively approached, an index finger falling to strike a grotesquely untuned "C" note. Mat sighed as the glare of glass caught his eye.

Yamato Yamada stared at the picture for an eternity.

Pale arms of a dark haired Japanese woman with unusual eyes, wrapped around a slender neck the colour of golden honey. Her hair was long; it flowed over her shoulders and was brushed out of her face so that it did not hide her oddly blue eyes. She pressed herself against the other's back, the model's ginger touch was a gentleness she only showed the elder woman and her sons.

A smile as natural as it always had been, adorned her beautiful features.

This was his mother's lover, her partner for as long as he could remember. This bubbly woman was Keiko. She was a model, a second mother, and the love of his mother's life.

The woman who sat on the chair and was captivated by the model's embrace was a stark and startling contrast to Keiko's appearance. She was stern, with a confident twitch to her thin lips. Her skin was that honey hued colour that adorned his flesh. She had short blond hair, which teased her shoulders and was cut to frame her face handsomely. Her bangs were a little on the long side – a style she often preferred, as, even in the picture, her hair parted to the left, which kept that side of her face completely hidden. Her visible eye, the right one, was the colour of dark chocolate. It stared up at the camera with a daunting gaze firm and intense in its manner.

Unlike the model, his mother's apparel was very strict. Wearing a pair of tan slacks and a white shirt, she appeared almost ready for a conference, where as Keiko opted to wear a black revealing dress. They were in direct contradiction to each other: his mother unwilling to show any skin, her beloved not afraid to bare a lot of it. The model was bubbly, excitable, the violinist quiet, solemn and introverted.

Yamato stared at the photo for a few more moments, looking at the toothless grin of his former self who sat in his mother's lap, waving his hand. She grasped him gently in this picture making him believe that the small twitch to those lips was out of melancholy rather than her usual bear of confidence. This family photo was private, not public; she only feigned such confidence when she knew everyone would be watching.

He tore his eyes away, wondering if things had always been that way. A glare of light, this time from the old desktop, had caught his attention. It was another photo and he approached it with care, he removed an age's worth of dust from the smooth surface of its glass prison. In this photo, clearly one that Keiko had reprinted to keep for herself, a young version of his mother stood in front of a fountain, by herself.

She was drastically different from the stern, distant woman in the other photo. The woman was then a girl of about no more than sixteen or eighteen. Her chocolate brown eyes glinted with mirth and charm as she wore a short, sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline. Her hair was long, almost long enough to trip over, as it caught her by the upper thigh, and she posed, laughing gaily at the camera.

He looked at the foreign girl in the photograph before him, unable to draw much connection between her and the slightly older woman in the previous photo, other than their identical facial features and body build. As he stared at the surprisingly extroverted girl and compared it to the woman he knew, he found himself silently wondering how such a child had turned into the woman he had called mother.

A/n: And there is the first chapter of My Sweet Prince. As I know this is going to be asked quite often, yes the title was from the song of the same name by Placebo. I gave my story this name as it is the mother's (not telling you her name yet) term of enderement for her son. Something that you'll see quite often throughout the story. Now, I also have another story in the works, a fantasy, so I must depart and get on to typing that. So read and review :3

Till soon,