Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, atop the crown of a tranquil hill, rest an enchanting, though petite chateau, residing in which was a widowed gentleman—one with the delicacy of a newly blossomed rose, but the same cause for harm as one lined with thorns.
By name, Alexandre Charming, was no means a man of violence. He believed in the compassion of forgiveness and the tenderness of an apology, upholding his morals of pacifism despite coming from a family who squandered these beliefs; intent on impelling their vicious mannerisms to be a part of his natural response. His youth persisted of these perilous teachings, but the gentleman remained ever gentle and kind, protesting against the ways of his lineage, leading to the moment in which he met his darling, a woman who reciprocated his nonbelligerent lifestyle, and he loved his fair lady as much as she loved him.
The daughter they would soon welcome into their world with loving arms was a testament to their love, her features reminiscent of each parent… though, she donned the surname of her now deceased mother, her life slipping away amidst childbirth, as a means of remembrance for the strength and bravery it took to blossom their rose, even if she herself wilted in the process.
Elizabeth Rose Locketheart, she had been donned, a girl of utmost grace, elegance weaved throughout her natural mannerisms, one who shone from the beauty reflected in both her outer appearance, and her delicate kindness; though from her initial birth, just as her mother in her last moments, she grew to be a woefully sickly girl, the cost of her medicines fearfully out of reach as the loss of the gentleman’s lover costed the family greatly.
This would naturally beg the question as to how the young girl was still here in the present moment, though the answer was simple. Never had Alexandre been a wealthy man, yet to him, his family were the greatest fortune of all, and he refused to lose how little he had left of them, this of which exactly what lead to him turning heel on his own customs, toiling over his workbench—leveraging the only talent guaranteed to reap in fortune, one that would grant him all he needed for his daughters aid.
He found himself being one who would spend his days tinkering away at artificial machinery; crafting firearms just as his own father had taught him so many moons ago… though his work failed to be something he found pride within, for he knew he was reneging his previously spoken of nonbelligerent way of life; but from his past perspective, any sacrifice was worthy so long as it saved his daughter.
He initially pleaded with a man on the opposite spectrum from his kindred nature—a much crueler gentleman, one who cast rejection upon Alexandre when approached with the prospect of a collaboration between a gunsmith and an inventor.
Doctor Robotnik, an individual of pure resilience, despite his endless list of failures. Through the acknowledgment of the help Alexandre could provide was his never ending belief that each defeat was simply a delayed victory, and enduring the assistance of another would only shadow his own achievements, making others believe he was a man that failed to commodify schemes alone.
…Though their interaction would not be that of their last, Alexandre instead offered a placement crafting weaponry for the British association known as G.U.N, a role in which he still maintained during the present, able to provide for his sole daughter through the wealth manufactured from what was now his own empire!
However, he would never forget the struggles encountered, feeling as though—with the dawn of his daughters 20th birthday—he had at last closed the chapter of his fairytale life, able to live in bliss amongst the family he dreamed of since the beginning.
But Robotnik was never one to accept defeat so easily, and with each delayed victory, he only grew more knowledgeable.
More powerful.
No longer did his initial jealousy cloud his sights once set on Alexandre, he was smarter than that.
As he was so focused on the defeat of a man from his past, he decided… why not enlist the help of machinery from the past, too?