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Widowmaker Black Lily by Teban1983

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#Black Lily Widowmaker #Widowmaker #Amélie Lacroix #Amelie Lacroix #Overwatch #Teban1983

Black Lily and Scion Hanzo?

The first time he saw her, he was seventeen. Hisgestures were carefully hidden behind his hair, his entire form was concealedbehind Sojiro’s impenetrable shadow. She was a child – barely twelve, dancingon her tiptoes while her father was too busy, shaking hands with the devil. Theempire was progressing – Asia had become a domestic endeavor for the ShimadaClan so its leader, Sojiro Shimada, had begun seeking allies all across Europe.

France presented itself in the shape of asophisticated Chateau by the tranquil waters. The young heir, accompanying hisfather, was supposed to catch a glimpse of the future – how the clan actuallyworked outside Hanamura, how politics and bureaucracy were supposed to play avery important role in the continuation of their family business. The affairsimplied more than money and blood – so the father placed the young heir underhis protective wings and the boy sat by his side, contemplating the scene insilence.

As Maurice Guillard welcomed Sojiro and the twoleaders acknowledged the mutual alliance between families, the image of thatgirl dressed in white caught the heir’s attention. The way she danced, as ifnothing else truly mattered, was captivating.

“Her name is Amélie,” Maurice – her father –said to the heir and the boy blushed beyond the limits of his obstinate adolescence,“but we all call her White Lily.”

She was radiant in every single way – with herlong, dark hair cascading down her shoulders and her pale skin trying toimitate the impeccable snow. She didn’t look in his direction, not even once,and the heir looked down, ashamed, thinking about the girl waiting for him backhome.

He was promised to somebody else, that’s howlife was supposed to continue.

As Sojiro and his son Hanzo left the chateau,Maurice patted the young heir on the shoulder and congratulated the kumicho:life had given the man many things, but it had never graced him with a son.That lonely girl, dancing away her childhood in the corner, was the closestapproximation to an heir the Guillards had in their possession.

It was hard not to hear the subtle notes ofdisappointment in Maurice’s voice, not to notice the disheartened implicationshitting close to home: the heir had one of those back in Shimada Castle, an innocentbrother perceived by the clan as a potential liability. Yet the girl stilldanced, her eyes too far gone to care for the strangers in expensive-looking suits– and the conflicted young heir stared at her and her lovely white dress oncemore; one last time before departing her house, as if trying to commit herparadigm to memory. Now, etched inside his mind, that part of her childhoodwould remain forever intact.

The second time he saw her, she finally lookedat him. He was twenty-two now, and Amélie had just turned seventeen years old – butthe void inside those eyes of hers seemed too familiar to be ignored: that lifewas dragging her down paths of brimstone and despair. She didn’t dance thistime, yet the ballerina in her was still in charge of all her moves. Time hadgraced her with sophistication, beauty, andmystery, the same elements he longed to find in that other girl, the onewaiting for him back in Japan; the same elements he could never see in the shapeof the woman the clan had chosen for him.

Walking alone in the imperturbable night ofChateau Guillard, the heir found her with her white dress pooling around herankles and her eyes lost beyond the confines of the window.

“Have you noticed?” she said, “it’s never sunnyhere,”

If he had to be completely honest, he hadn’tpaid that much attention: his first visit had been protocollary brief and shehad quickly become an unwanted distraction back then. But this second visit hadbeen stained with loneliness right from the start: his father had stayed home,he was on his own for the first time, far away from the comfort of his castle,far away from the place he loved the most.

He didn’t say anything. With timid steps theheir walked around the woman and let his eyes wanderthe cloudy night outside that room – she didn’t seem to mind his company, ifanything, she didn’t seem intimidated by him.

It was such a refreshing feeling.

The day before leaving the chateau, he finallyasked Maurice why they called her White Lily. The man said that the nameevocated the pureness of her daughter; a symbol of beauty that can becomedangerously vacant at any given time. The heir wondered if, perhaps, her fatherfailed to see that flowers only exist to look pretty in the company of others,that they struggle in their loneliness, trying to find a reason to stay alive.

When the news about Maurice’s tragic passinginterrupted the peaceful evening in Hanamura, Sojiro stood up and lost himselfbehind his office door – the death of an ally was a long process that never endedat the funeral, and the Scion knew it. When he saw her again, he saw thecorruption spreading inside her eyes, blocking all possible sadness, detachingher from the little girl in her immaculate white dress, dancing away herchildhood.

She was twenty-one and beautiful; cold anddistant like the virgin snow that dresses the mountain during the winter. Inaccessible. Inhospitable.

Inhabited.

He realized, then, that the woman had become anextension of the cage keeping her a hostageof her own heritage. It was never sunny around her; her skin was frozen and themelody seemed to have forsaken her bones. A certain shade of blue had paintedthe white snow, making it colder. He wondered if her father would have beenproud of the one that she was now, he wondered if his own father was proud ofthe Scion he had become.

When the funeral was over, and Chateau Guillardrested in the quiet, cloudy night, the Scion saw her again, dressed in blackand still as a statue. He walked up to her and inspected the patterns on herdress – the fabric felt smooth against his skin, yet her eyes did not care forthe artificial nature of such beauty.

The flower had struggled in her loneliness, tryingto find a reason to stay alive.

Ultimately, she had failed - and had died her lonesome death.

#overwatch #ask #widowmaker #black lily #black lily widowmaker #hanzo #hanzo shimada #sojiro shimada #scion hanzo #young hanzo #widowhanzo #venomous arrow #fanfiction #kumu headcanon