Summary: And so the brothers were reunited, though in a way that was both utterly unexpected and infinitely complex. A way brought about by a dishonored soldier, exiled from his home country and living in poverty; a doctor on the brink of execution due to a false diagnosis pertaining to the King; a spoiled count captured by a legendary Egyptian bandit due to his own arrogance and lack of manners; and last but not least, the famous bandit himself.
Pairings: Akuroku, Soiku, Zemyx, Cleon. A few minor others later on, probably.
Disclaimer: Characters by Squeenix. Some plot ideas inspired by the Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.
A/N: While this is something entirely new that I'm trying out, I also (kind of) have big plans for it. This is just a first attempt, a draft of sorts—lemme know what you guys think!
It's strange, strange to think that such an ancient race, a revered race that has existed since the beginning of time almost, has nearly died out completely. The only way to spot a true Cetra, one of that fading bloodline that originates from seagoing gypsies, is to seek out the pale sheen of blonde hair upon their heads, and make sure the eyes are the color of a storm-tossed sea, a clear sky, or rare, speckled seaglass. Though, of course, blonde hair is certainly not uncommon—there are many shades, such as faded yellow, or dark ginger, or even wispy, insubstantial wheat-gold. But the hair color of the Ancients is a particular shade noticeable from even dozens of yards away—the glinting strands of a gold that shifts between white and silver. That, in combination with the sea-colored eyes, marks a true Cetra, with untainted, precious blood.
Nowadays, you can spot nearly any color of eyes or hair or skin upon the streets. Generations of interracial breeding has led to nearly any color to be possible—bright crimson, jet black, pearl white, strands ranging from the colors of strips of bark to dirty snow to toasted almonds. And the range of eye colors! Shades of jewels, of metals, of commonplace stones. The palest of skin baring a resemblance to cold cream, and the darkest to deep, coffee bean brown—suntanned cinnamon being the median. The only exceptions to these, obviously, being the aforementioned white-blonde, and eyes that shift constantly between shades of blue.
Once the dying out of the Cetra became apparent in the last century, the Genetic Collective, a genealogy organization that had stood idle for decades, decided to take action. In Rome, the current largest family of Ancients lived in a tiny, five-room apartment above a tavern. The parents of the family had died in a carriage accident a few streets away in a terrible stroke of bad luck, and in coldly legal terms the Collective had informed the grieving relatives that they were to take into custody the remaining children—four lovely little boys, the eldest being seven at the time, and the youngest, twins, barely two. It was their plan to scatter the children into different foster homes—it was written up in local newspapers that keeping the young Cetra boys together would result in a certain extinction of their race, and so this was the excuse the Collective had provided in the face of several indignant reporters.
And so the years passed, and the brothers grew up in vastly different households. The eldest of the four, Cloud, a fiercely beautiful young man with spiky hair, was raised as the son of the deputy public prosecutor by the name of Renault. The Renault family had a vast fortune, along with an immense amount of gold coins and jewels in their coffers. They lived comfortably along the Champs Elysees. Even as he was destined to become a proper count, Cloud detested the frequent balls and dinners he was always invited to, as a member of a family that made up part of the absolute cream of Parisian society. He preferred to stay home, fencing or having practice duels with his father's servant, an old one-eyed man who, despite his age and disfigurement, became an excellent teacher to the young man.
During his childhood Cloud had had an array of tutors, all who described him as "sullen, stubborn, and quiet—but with a will of iron, and an extraordinary intellect." He was educated in chemistry, literature, art; learned Italian, German, English, Russian and Greek, after his native French. Once he became an adolescent, he dropped his education to focus on his training—it was his dream to become a member of the Revolution, though he kept this a secret from his royalist family.
Of course, he knew of his younger brothers. However, he himself was merely a child when separated from them, so his memory did not provide much. He only remembered the burning, protective love he held for them, and had resolved to find them once he was of legal age, no longer under the restraints of his foster family, who greatly discouraged him with stern disapproval from keeping contact with his blood relatives.
The middle child, a lithe boy with exotically-shaped eyes and high cheekbones by the name of Demyx, was raised by a pirate lord named Reddas. He held no family name, the same as his guardian, and lived in a seaside mansion in the coastal town of Balfonheim. His talent in the musical arts impressed many citizens in the small town, and he was forever being invited to perform at small functions. He was incredibly sweet, and possessed a witty humor rare in those days, for most young men were supremely arrogant or uncultured. He had only been four when separated from his family, and had but a dim memory of his brothers. He believed fate would bring them back together some day, however, and continued to live happily in his beloved city, helping his guardian as a sailor on his ships, or acting as a replacement cook in the various taverns lining the narrow streets.
The youngest, Sora and Roxas, grew up in the tiny fishing village atop a gently sloping hill, under the love and care of their sweet mother Vivian. Their foster father had been drafted into the Spanish army and was killed shortly afterwards, and so Vivian had married again—this time her cousin Alexandre, who was just as loving and protective as his wife. They also had an older sibling, Seifer, the original son of Vivian and her former husband.
Their small family could not afford an education for the children, so Sora and Roxas were taught by Vivian, who taught herself from tattered, outdated books she found in the public library. The boys were eager learners, though their temperaments differed greatly—Sora was optimistic and loud and had a smile that was quick and bright as sunshine; he roughhoused with the boys, but played nice with the girls as well. He was popular and sociable among the children his age in their small village, and was what people often called "foolishly brave, with a sense of justice that can be sound, but reckless." His twin, Roxas, was much more quiet and reserved. His face was sharper, more serious, though when he smiled it glowed like twilight. His temper was quicker, but his actions were more thought-out compared to those of his siblings. Though seeming unsociable, he had a heart of gold. His friends were fewer, but he was very close to those few—a kind, if brash boy with hair like broom sage, named Hayner; a plump, shy boy with a sweet disposition by the name of Pence; and a slim, sensible girl with large green eyes and chestnut hair that crackled when she brushed it, who went by Olette—the mother hen of their little group.
The twins were still babes when taken away from their brothers—they could see only blurred figures in their memories. One named Dem-something, the other with a name beginning with a C. One had flashing eyes, and soft hair that formed in spikes that they had liked to tug at with their tiny fingers; the other had a smile quick as a knife, who tickled them with contagious laughter when it was bedtime.
But let's talk about the reunion of these boys, members of a still dwindling race. It seemed that of the four siblings, Demyx had an amazing sense of intuition—he was certainly right about the remaining family meeting up again; though in a way that was both utterly unexpected and infinitely complex. A way brought about by a dishonored soldier, exiled from his home country and living in poverty; a doctor on the brink of execution due to a false diagnosis pertaining to the King; a spoiled count captured by a legendary Egyptian bandit due to his own arrogance and lack of manners; and last but not least, the famous bandit himself.
And so these characters, so divergent in history and personality, in class and mindset—who would have clashed horribly had they been in a different context—came together and eventually revealed the terrible secret that the Genetic Collective has been hiding for centuries, and tried to pick up the pieces of their lives that the truth had just shattered.