I just finished my first piece of fic for Smallville. I'm not sure how off I am from the show's canon, I haven't seen enough episodes to be sure of the way the whole meteor thing works and all, so...
It was supposed to just be about Lana thinking she killed her parents. It got somewhat odd and disturbing when I finished it.
Someone please review. I have the feeling I've gone horribly wrong with this one...
She was normal.
(It’s really high up I shouldn’t be doing this)
She’d been right in the middle of the meteorite shower and she was normal. Not a mutant. Nothing to see here. No wishes granted.
She’d wanted to be a princess.
Pretty and sweet and pink. Her parents were dead but her life was good, mostly good. She had Whitney and then Clark, sort of, and she was almost friends with Chloe, and she had the Talon. Life was good. She could ramble on and on about her parents and no one told her to shut up. She was loved. Life was good.
And then there was Lex.
(He’ll hate me he’ll find a way to bring me back to life and he’ll kill me)
Every princess should have a prince.
Jewels and cars and clothes and parties, and Lex was everything you could want, if you didn’t want too much.
Between Lionel Luthor and Clark Kent, she never got much of Alexander.
She’d wanted to be a princess. Princess of Smallville.
And one day she became a queen. Queen of the castle, of Metropolis, of the world. Maybe. Lana Luthor. Destiny.
(I’m afraid of heights I never knew that I’m scared of falling I didn’t know the wind would-)
Maybe inside she was still Lana Lang and maybe this wasn’t exactly what she meant, maybe this isn’t the perfect fairy tale she always wanted (Lana Kent) and maybe Lex wasn’t the perfect prince, but it worked. Queen of Metropolis. Everything she deserved.
Parties and power and money. Look pretty. Give to charity. Make Lex look good. Make him look like someone they can…
(-make your legs weak and I can’t go back I can’t stop it I can’t move I don’t really want to die-)
Trust? No, because no one outside of Smallville ever made that mistake. Make him look like he isn’t his father.
A princess is sweet and innocent and pliable. She is a perfect complement to her prince. She is a wife and a lover and a mother.
(My babies oh babies I’m sorry what did I do he’ll hate me I’m sorry I loved you but you had to-)
She’d wanted to be a princess. But her secret is that what she really, really wanted that day was to be left alone. Childish. Some forgotten, toddler frustration. ‘No’ to a toy or a candy or- something. Anger. A child doesn’t know how to reason through it. A child simply hates- for a few seconds. She didn’t think anyone had gotten two things from the meteors- she was a princess in her broken fairy tale life. But maybe that was destiny and maybe- maybe- maybe she did it.
(-I couldn’t let you be like him just like he was like his father, and I’m sorry, and- goodbye.)