Note; This story is based on events chronicled in the Opera of Draco and Maria; at least part of which was seen during Final Fantasy VI (or III in America.) Celes took upon herself the role of Maria for the purpose of protecting the real actress from abduction, and sang beautifully in the game's now-famous "opera scene." However, I've seen very little fanfiction about Draco and Maria, so I decided that I should be the first to tell their story in full. Thank you for joining us.

Draco; Opera of Love

Chapter 1; Flowers

Draco looked out over the horizon carefully, watching the enemy troops move back and forth in tight formations. There were certainly a great many of them; maybe tens of thousands. It was difficult to tell just how many from where he was. However, one thing Draco did know when he saw that enemy force; that even if the Garou's army could enlist the help of every able-bodied man in three townships, they'd still be outnumbered two to one.

It was enough to make Draco sweat; seeing those mighty odds against them, but it wasn't enough to make him give up, because nothing in the world could have induced him to do that. Draco had a great reason for never being willing to surrender; perhaps a better reason than any other man in the world.

Even as he watched the enemy, however, Draco knew that in spite of their vast numbers, he really had a lot to be thankful for. For one thing, he hadn't been spotted. If any of the enemy had noticed him, after all, that would have been a disaster. Still, he could hardly help but feel sad, in spite of the good fortune that he'd encountered thus far. The constant longing that he felt wasn't something that he could simply dismiss.

Just as those thoughts passed through his head, however, Draco saw something that struck mortal terror into his heart. Three of the enemy's chocobo knights had turned, and were headed in his direction. Worse yet, they'd obviously spotted him, which must have been why they were spurring their mounts onward; charging in his direction with deliberate speed.

For a moment, Draco's mind began to race, as he struggled to consider his options. In heavy armor like his, it would have been impossible to flee. It would have been impossible anyway, since no human being could run with the speed of a chocobo. For a few moments, he thought about trying to fight those three, but even if he were able to defeat them in some manner, he suspected that their army would have missed them, and soon, he'd need to contend with thousands of the enemy, instead of just three. As he considered his options, Draco turned to run as quickly as he could, desperately hoping to buy himself more time.

Ultimately, Draco knew that he had no choice but to confront his enemies in some manner. They were about to collide with him in moments, and if he wanted to survive, he needed to do something. As good a fighter as he was, he knew that he wasn't sufficient to the task of defeating a whole army by himself, but as far as he could tell, there was only one other way of escaping from that situation, and it was going to involve a lot of risk.

Moving as quickly as he could, Draco kept one eye out for his pursuers, watching as they drew closer and closer with the pounding of bird-feet behind him; his heartbeat rising as he moved. If there'd been any sort of cover nearby, he would naturally have gone for it, but unfortunately, he suspected that was the very reason why the eastern armies had chosen that spot to make camp. There was nothing but a bare, open plain for miles, making it almost impossible for even a clever scout to approach undetected.

At last, when the chocobos were a mere ten yards behind him, Draco made his gamble, intentionally falling prostrate to the ground; his eyes only open enough to see the enemy still advancing on him, and one hand on his sword, just in case.

Soon, the mighty legs of one of the chocobos had reached him, colliding hard with his own left leg, and badly bruising some of his muscles. It hurt as badly as most sword-wounds, because of the sheer strength of the bird's feet, but nonetheless, that was the moment of truth. Draco continued to lay on the ground, doing his best to go limp, as he impersonated a dead body. The knights might not fall for his trick, of course, but if they tried to turn and attack him again, he was prepared to defend himself.

However, it seemed that Draco's luck was holding out, because the knights made no attempt to turn back and face him; merely continuing on to the west for several dozen yards, then taking different paths to the north and south; almost as if they'd failed to see him at all, or as if their own mission didn't allow them to slow down; even for an enemy scout. Draco was too tired to really wonder what the mission of those knights might have been, but he could tell that he'd had a very close shave that time. If they'd been even a little more cautious around him, he knew that he wouldn't have survived until sunset, and that was an idea that sent a chill up his spine; not just for his own sake, but for the sake of his beloved Maria.

In that moment, as he lay on the ground, hoping that the enemy army would forget about him, Draco's thoughts returned to the time when he'd last looked into the eyes of the woman he loved; the woman who, even to that day, he couldn't bare the thought of losing; the noble lady who'd shown him such mercy and love, that it had, for the first time, made him want to do the same for her.

At the time, Draco had been a mere captain in the king's army, and his armor had been lighter and less effective. Still, he'd done much to prove himself to King John, and from years of faithful service, he'd earned the right to enter into the courtyard of the castle; a place normally reserved for royalty.

At that time, Draco had been having a very difficult day. He'd woken up late, and made a bad impression on two knights and the lords of three western territories, which was bound to have repercussions. It had made him feel like a terrible failure; horribly embarrassed in every sense. There was no way, he knew, that he could completely recover, after having made such a fool of himself in front of so many important people.

That was why, that afternoon, Draco found himself stomping angrily around the royal gardens; his heavy, steel-plated boots making clanking noises on the cobblestones, or loud thuds on the soft dirt. It wasn't the first time that Draco's feelings had ever really gotten the better of him, because after all, he was a very passionate man, but in that moment, he barely even thought about the plants that he was crushing under his feet from time to time. After all, they weren't human, and didn't have rights, so their broken stems and lost petals didn't register in his mind. All he was thinking about, at the time, was how miserable he felt, and how nothing could possibly feel worse than what he'd been going through. In his eyes, even a battle would have been a welcome relief from the horrible embarrassment of his own social failures at court.

However, even as Draco was thinking that it would be impossible to feel any worse, he heard a gasp of shock and dismay, and looked up from his pacing, to see a sight that made him feel the worst emotion that he'd ever felt.

The whole garden was enclosed by large, stone walls, and a couple sets of stairs led to doorways that opened into upper-level rooms of the castle's keep. Draco had entered the garden from the ground-level, oaken doors to the south. In fact, most people entered and left that way, so he hadn't noticed the woman who was walking down the flat, stone steps into the garden until the moment when he'd heard her gasp. Nevertheless, she was quite a sight to behold.

The young woman was beautiful beyond comparison. Her nose was short, but not pointed, her eyes were large and bright, and her lips small, but very enchanting for that very reason. She had golden blond hair, which flowed over her shoulders and back, all the way down to her skirt. She had a dark green ribbon in her hair as well, and her dress was absolutely magnificent.

The girl's dress began about an inch down from the base of her neck; just sufficient for the sake of her obvious modesty and innocence, and clung to her upper body as tightly as a glove, until it reached her shoulders and waist. The shoulders of her dress were large and beautiful; almost the size of a knight's helmet each, though they were clearly stuffed with some manner of fabric or cotton, to keep them from drooping when she moved her arms. Below the shoulders, the fabric of her dress covered her arms very tightly; leaving just enough space for her to bend them freely.

Down past the girl's waist, however, was her skirt, which spread out all around her like one of the finest ballroom gowns. Its silky fabric seemed to almost flow as she took one careful step after another down the short, stone staircase, and the dress itself was so long, that her legs and feet were nearly always impossible to see.

What really stunned Draco about the young lady's dress, however, was that the type of fabric used to make it was of a very uncommon color for a leisure dress; even among royalty. It was definitely a green color of some sort, but it was such a light kind of green, that it could have easily been mistaken for a pearly white dress from a distance.

Still, Draco had seen many women at court who were beautiful, and wore elegant dresses. What truly made that girl stand out above every other girl he'd ever met was the look of true innocence that she wore on her face.

Most of the woman who Draco had met were either overtly ambitious, excessively-vane, or extremely self-absorbed and rude, to the point or treating with derision everything that they found uninteresting. Many women, of course, claimed to desire greater rights in polite society, but very few among the aristocracy seemed to actually want the one right that was most important; the right to be loving towards others. The girl in the garden, however, clearly didn't have that problem. Even as she glanced back and forth across the flowers, surveying the damage that Draco had recently done, there wasn't a single sign of genuine anger on her face; just a look of terrible hurt and sadness over what had just happened, as if, for that moment, Draco himself didn't even exist.

Soon, the girl lifted the front of her dress to keep from tripping as she descended the remainder of the stone steps at almost a sprint. She looked, for a moment, as if she was going to fall, in spite of her caution, but finally, she made it to the ground and started rushing back and forth among the flowers, looking sadly at each one that had been broken or damaged in some manner; especially the purple and red ones in the center, which Draco had been pacing around more than once, he was ashamed to admit.

At last, however, after burying many of the broken flowers in the soil, the girl stood back up to her full height; her skirt seeming to grow broader, the closer she was to standing upright, and at that point, she stared directly into Draco's face, looking even sadder than before. The sight of all that sadness in the face of one so pure and innocent nearly broke Draco's heart, even before she spoke to him aloud.

"Have I done something to offend you? Why are you punishing me?"

None of those words were spoken in anger, however, which only made them hurt even more. They sounded more like a plea than a demand, and that hurt Draco much worse than any reprimand she could have leveled at him.

"I... I never meant to punish you, milady." Draco insisted quickly, hoping that he could make her understand, "I've never even met you before. In fact, I can't imagine wanting to hurt you. It's only that I was so upset. So many horrible things happened to me today, and... I didn't realize these flowers were yours to tend. I apologize."

For a few moments, the girl almost looked as if she was going to cheer up, but at last, she said, "I wish I could do something to help, but I'm afraid I don't have much influence in the kingdom yet. Still, I... I mean, I know it's difficult, but you... you shouldn't damage these flowers, just because you're feeling angry."

"I know." Draco just replied, "There's no excuse for what I did. I'm sorry."

For a few moments, the two just continued looking at each other, neither one sure what to say next. At last, however, Draco gathered up his courage, and decided that he had to say something, even if it meant giving that girl the power to do some real damage to him in court.

"My name's Draco. I'm a captain in the army."

It was only at that point that the girl seemed to cheer up, because she was starting to look up into his eyes a little more, ignoring the flowers that still surrounded them, and the edges of her mouth were turning up in a sort of half-smile. Clearly, there was something about that situation that she liked.

"In that case, you must be very talented and well-respected." the girl noted aloud, "Most captains wouldn't be permitted to enter the royal gardens alone."

For a moment, Draco started to feel embarrassed and helpless, because he could see that the girl knew more about the world outside of her garden than she'd seemed to at first, and she only confirmed that with the next thing she said to him.

"I'm glad you were willing to tell me your name. It proves that you trust me."

Once again, that girl had displayed yet another feat of deduction, which most of the ladies at court wouldn't have even attempted. Still, she seemed to care much more about how Draco felt than they did, which was a new experience for him. In a way, he wasn't sure what to think, until she introduced herself as well.

"I'm Princess Maria Johnson of Garou; throne castle of the west."

For the third time in as many sentences, however, Maria had managed to shock Draco to his very core. He'd never suspected that that young girl might have been the princess herself. In fact, considering her incredible beauty of both body and spirit, he was starting to wonder if the king had been out of his mind to keep her away from the royal court for so long.

However, the more he thought about it, the more Draco began to understand the king's great wisdom with respect to the way that he'd chosen to raise his daughter. The royal court, after all, was a place for the powerful to speak, form alliances and gather greater power for themselves; often at the expense of others. There was more corruption in the court than in nearly any other place in the kingdom, in spite of his majesty's best efforts. Greed and selfishness were common things among the aristocracy, and even if the king had made no effort to protect his daughter from that kind of corruption, Draco suspected that she would have avoided the royal court of her own free will. She was just too pure to really want to be part of something like that, no matter what was at stake.

Still, he realized, the princess had responsibilities, and she couldn't avoid them for all the purity and kindness in the world. One day, she'd have to grow up. It was tragic in a lot of ways, but it was the truth of the world.

"I only wish that more people at court were like you, princess." Draco blurted out before he could stop himself, but fortunately, the princess seemed to have taken his compliment well. She smiled happily for a few moments, obviously delighted by his reaction. However, that delight, predictably, couldn't last forever. She was still surrounded by the dying remains of many of the flowers that she'd once taken such good care of, and no compliment of any sort could really change that fact.

"I'd love to see you again sometime." the princess said at last, though she wasn't smiling as she spoke, "but I'm afraid that now might not be the best time to talk. These flowers aren't just mine, and I think I should probably try to put things back to the way they were."

"Listen, if you need help..." Draco suggested, but it was an empty suggestion, and he knew it. He knew absolutely nothing about botany, or even practical gardening. Maria seemed to have realized that about him, though, because she just smiled weakly, recognizing his offer, but not accepting it.

"That's quite alright." the princess replied after just a moment, "As long as you're careful around the flowers from now on, you'll be helping me enough."

Draco didn't quite feel like that was sufficient, but he didn't want to risk getting into an argument with her, so in spite of the sad expressions that had spread across both of their faces again, he turned to leave.

Of course, the encounter would have left its mark on Draco, even if that had been the end of it, but just as he was about to pass back out through the gate he'd entered by, he heard her voice again; still as heart-wrenching as before.

"Draco... There's one other thing."

Slowly, Draco turned around to face her one last time, and found, to his surprise, that she wasn't making him feel miserable anymore, because just as he faced her, a beautiful flower collided softly with his chest.

In a moment, Draco seized the stem of the flower that the princess had just thrown to him, once again stunned, and not sure what to make of the gesture. For a second or two, he suspected that she'd given him a dead flower to throw away when he left, or to remind him of what he'd done to so many flowers there, but as he examined the small, purple flower more closely, he discovered that it was in nearly perfect condition. The petals were all firmly attached and the stem wasn't twisted or bent. In fact, the only thing about it that was imperfect was that it was no longer rooted to the ground. Draco was speechless as he looked back into the face of the princess again, hoping for some kind of explanation. She'd seemed so upset when he'd stomped all over her flowers, and it certainly hadn't been a very nice thing to do, but then, without any hesitation at all, she'd picked out a perfect, purple blossom, just to give it to him. He couldn't understand.

Fortunately, though, Maria seemed to have understood the puzzled look on Draco's face, because in just a moment, she gave him her explanation.

"A candle maker has a right to be sad when someone breaks into his shop and burns all his candles all the way down to the bottom for no reason," Maria said, "but that doesn't mean that candles aren't meant to burn. These flowers are the same way. They're delicate and fragile, and even in the best seasons, they don't last very long. I know they'll live and die quickly, no matter what I do, but if they can serve their purpose before that happens; if they can bring people joy, then I don't have any reason to be sad, or to feel like my work was wasted. This is the purpose of the flower garden, Draco. Take it and enjoy it for as long as it lasts. Good-bye."

Then, bending carefully over the cloth folds in her skirt, Maria began to bury damaged flowers, and straighten others, and from that point on, Draco knew that no matter what, he could never be satisfied until he became a knight. However, his reasoning was much different than it had once been. He didn't care about the armor, or the weapons, or even the position of authority or glory anymore. The only thing that mattered to him at that point was that if he ever became Sir Draco of the West, then he would be a true nobleman, and only by becoming a nobleman would he ever be allowed to marry a princess. It was a big dream, perhaps, but from then on, Draco wanted nothing in the world, except the hand of the lovely Maria.

Even after nearly fifteen minutes of lying prostrate in the dirt, the enemy had made no attempt to pursue Draco, or even to investigate whether he was alive or dead, which gave him fresh hope that he might yet survive the day. Slowly, he started to clamber to his feet, and retreat the way he'd come, hoping that he wouldn't be spotted by anyone else until he'd made it back to camp to make his report to the general. It was a hope which, like all of his other recent hopes, was founded in that one great dream; to return home to Garou as a great hero, and wed the fair Maria.

"Oh Maria! Oh Maria!" Draco recited to himself as he rushed back towards camp, encouraging himself onward with the one motive strong enough to make him face his fears once again, "Please, hear my voice! How I long to be with you!"