This has been a work in progress in my head for over a year now and I finally decided to put it out there. My second Magi fanfic, hope this is worth continuing. Certain characters who are related canonically may not be related to their family members in this story and I really hope that no one's OOC. I thank you, dearest reader who has stumbled upon this story, if you take the time to even glance at it and tell me what you think.
I do not own Magi and I never will ^_^
Chapter 1
The scorching heat earlier that day dissolved into an overcast sky, the afternoon breeze intensifies. It'll rain soon, a torrential downpour unfitting this season of drought. He sat comfortably on the beige balcony railing, feet dangling two tiers above ground level. Magenta eyes lazily skim the thick open tome in his arms, a sudden wave of disinterest settles over him. Pulsating wind currents flip through the volume in his stead, shutting it closed in the process. His thumb brushed the brazen letters written on the book's spine. Nomad of the North. The words danced in his mind to the lighthearted tune of wind chimes swaying over the doorway at his back. He indifferently recalled that time his...colleague – for lack of a better term – etched the nonsensical name on his property without consent. He just happens to reside in the northernmost portion of the land most frequently. The air appeared significantly cleaner and the surrounding towns are never a bother.
The first sign of cold precipitation came to a halt atop his dark pink mane. Taking temporary shelter under his prized possession of an elegantly weaved fan of black feathers, he removed himself from the rain. Not completely, however, for his footfalls came to a stop at the threshold of his pathway to cover. Four rods of silver, uneven in length, moved to the uprising airwaves without resistance. Their previous song ceased yet they remained in furious contact with one other.
"Hmm." He mused, the unnatural phenomenon sparked interest within his mind. Coupled with the strange weather pattern…no, he's reading into this too much. The elements have always been unpredictable, no matter the season or the age.
He swept through the center aisle of his private library, storing the red velvet covered book back in place. Seconds after spiraling down a creaking helical staircase, he entered the spacious living quarters below. Billows of dust arose as he walked, the room barely inhabited since he prefers the company of the collection of knowledge he's compiled over the past millennia. Yet now he has reason for coming down here. Sifting through discoloured parchments and articles from decades before, he rummaged for the magic tool the enigmatic Sage passed on to him. The lifeless transparent orb was found, fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand. This may just be a simple case of paranoia but existing for as long as he has teaches you not to take singularities lightly.
The activation mechanism of the orb is simple, it's dependent on imagination rather than technological means. His thoughts concocted the image of the benevolent Sage of the South, as he dubbed himself. Such trivial formalities held no importance to the isolated drifter.
"Yes?" The voice hints that its owner has been expecting a summons.
He walked back up the staircase to his regular perch overlooking the barren lands forming part of the Wind Tribe's territory. Rain excitedly drums upon the rooftop he sheltered under, the rhythmic hum nearly enough to drown him out, "I take it you sense the change as well."
"That's nothing out of the ordinary," Their connection is audio based only. That's a first. The orb must be malfunctioning. Although, he's glad about the absence of that beaming smile he finds annoying, "It just means your vacation's over."
His scowl went to waste on the Sage who couldn't see through the communication device either. Eyes turned to the rain falling in thin sheets across the landscape. The ground desperately soaked up its first nourishing meal in months, "How long has it been since the end of an era?"
The Sage laughed lightly, "You're the one with all the answers, not me."
"Says the man blessed with ample amounts of wisdom." He mutters.
"I won't deny that," The Sage's jovial response, "However, no one can truly grasp everything there is to know about our universe, don't you agree?"
He dislikes when the Sage redirects everything onto him, "Yet you say I'm the one with all the answers."
"You might as well be considering your role as…apologies, I'm getting ahead of myself." He frowned as the Sage's words fogged his mind. There's no need for a reminder of his position in this world.
He stared upward at the wind chime hanging above his head, silenced by unknown means, "So what will you do?" He touched a single pole of metal, freezing it in place as the others moved in succession to the frigid breeze, "It's the start of a new era."
He imagines the smile on the Sage's lips, "Why be anxious for what the future holds? I'll simply wait and see what fate has in store."
Dominion of the Red Lions, the kingdom's name of old. That, or the Fanalis Domain. A mighty empire standing at the epicenter of this world's order. Located within the reaches of both Strength Nation and Fire Kingdom's borders, this impregnable fortress has withstood the tests of time for generations. Within this time period of famine and strife, the busy kingdom continues to flourish. Large walls erected since the dawn of the Fanalis Clan, line the kingdom's outer rim. From within, sturdy marble homes and infrastructure sat in neat clusters surrounding the extensive masterpiece known as the Red Lion Royal Palace. The most distinguishable feature of every citizen within this domain would be their bold scarlet tresses, ruby eyes and of course overwhelming strength surpassing that of any other tribe in the realm, including the proud warriors of Strength Nation who boast of their superior physical prowess.
The sun graciously grants a radiant blessing upon the city. Towns-folk went along their daily lives through the clean streets of the kingdom. Children ran here and there, weaving around thick bushes dotted with snow white flowers, all the while their parents work tirelessly to afford them the leisure of having a fun-filled youthful life. Sadly, not everyone has that free spirit to do as they please. Even at the age of adolescence – and the coming years as she blooms into a fine adult – she'll always and forever will be considered just that, a child.
"It's past eight, Princess. Get up," The young royal never budged, clinging to her state of slumber for just a little longer, "Lady Morgiana, I will not tolerate this. It's unbecoming of a young lady like yourself to be this tardy. Your guardian awaits your presence downstairs."
A moan mingles within her yawn as Morgiana rolled off her back to a sitting position. Light flooded in from her open windows, the temperature slightly warmer than usual. She blinked twice, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes while a certain pesky servant tapped her foot indignantly for the past minute, "I keep telling you, you'll never find a good husband at this rate." Here she goes again.
Why Morgiana must be subjected to such a grouchy teacher, she'll never figure out. Of course Myron is indeed great at her job of educating the young heiress to the Fanalis Domain. However, Morgiana doesn't care. Why does it matter if she's not like your average princess, groomed to perfection like the dainty flowers hailing from the other territories across the land. She's a daughter of the Alexius Family, a prominent name superior to every existing royal family. Yet, the red head can't hold a candle to someone like the flawless Princess Kougyoku of the Water Kingdom. Morgiana's simply not into all the formalities that come with bearing such responsibility for an entire Kingdom. Sure her people suspect that she's the smiling, elegant young lady who gets everything she so desires served on a stainless silver platter but there's more to her than waving at her happy citizens and getting all she owns from her parent.
We're not given a choice as to where we're born or if we should even be alive in the first place. Social standings, ethnicity, why do such matters define us? Who has the right to reign and rule over another's actions? She begged the question during her last lesson on World History. The answer given, "Irrelevant question. Moving on."
Of course, Morgiana's been blessed. Time and time again those who are allowed to approach the princess make their heartfelt yet backbiting comments, "Must be nice to be princess of the whole world." "I wish I was like you, Lady Morgiana." "If only I wasn't born the way I was. Ah well." They can flash ivory white teeth as much as possible, it still won't conceal their jealously. Man's heart is wicked after all. You can truly never know what hides underneath his façade of deception.
The red haired princess slips off her untidy bed, 'It's always husband this, husband that.' Morgiana's never seen Myron flaunting off an engagement ring either. That's the last thing on her mind, if not at all. Her teacher's been pressing Morgiana's father about finding suitable candidates from the noble houses of the kingdom for months now. Morgiana's glad the words fall on deaf ears. Who wants to get married at fourteen years old, for political means none-the-less? Myron has this vain imagination of some prince whisking her away someday, a man who'll love her along with her scars – the spoils of defending this Kingdom years ago as she formed part of the Fanalis Corps under the rule of Muu Alexius, Morgiana's father. Myron's at least double Morgiana's age yet the Princess is the one who understands that barely anyone marries anymore unless they reap some sort of benefit from their spouse. Besides, marrying into the royal family means that whoever's chosen will be King after father. Meaning they have to put a lot into their marriage proposal to appease her parent or they walk out with the sting of rejection.
That about sums up why Morgiana doesn't care who the next King will be nor cares for the string of words from Myron which were meant to inflict a burn on the red head.
"Will you, with that rotten personality." Morgiana kicked her slippers to the side, preferring to walk barefooted on the cold ceramic tiles.
Myron's anger rose, "E-excuse me young lady!"
Morgiana would've given a retort but she'd rather not give Myron another reason to complain ten times a day to the king over every little thing she did wrong. Her blue nightgown was swapped for a plain white dress better suited for breakfast with father.
"You're always surrounded by that brute," She's making reference to Morgiana's personal guard, Lo'lo', "It's no wonder your manners have been deplorable as of late. Why not make friends with some of the other royals, like Princess Kougyoku for instance?"
Morgiana scowled at the mention of the famed Water Princess, "That's not happening."
"Come on, why not?" Myron revels in her ignorance, "She's a very sweet girl, so polite whenever she visits the Kingdom with her father. You can learn a thing or two from her."
'Yeah, how to be self-centered and obnoxious.' "Not happening," Morgiana obviously has her reasons. As graceful and stunning as Princess Kougyoku may be, that can never mask the interior of her cold hearted soul. She may have others fooled but spending a day with her…you don't want to spend a day, not even a second in her company. Morgiana didn't wait for Myron to open the door, "besides, there's nothing wrong with Lo'lo'."
"My name." He grins – he always wears a grin – poking the princess in the middle of her forehead while standing under the doorframe.
His childish antics never cease to cast a smile on Morgiana's features. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, "That's assault you know."
His head lolled to the side mockingly, "Really? What, you'll have me replaced? Executed?"
"You should be," Myron marches up to him, eyes narrowed, "Don't you think it's impolite to enter the Princess' room unannounced?" Like she just did a minute ago?
Lo'lo' rolled his eyes. His sights caught the floor, "Have I?" The threshold remains uncrossed by his large feet. He offered Morgiana an arm as he always does, "Shall we?"
Myron grunted her disapproval, "That is also inappropriate behavior, Lo'lo'. I won't have you corrupting Lady Morgiana any further." Too late. He sprinted down the hall with the Princess keeping up the pace at his side.
They came to rest near their destination. Morgiana untangles their arms, "She'll complain about you again."
"It's all she does." Lo'lo' didn't seem to be bothered.
Morgiana flexed her feet after that light exercise, blood pumping vigorously through her veins. She takes a while to recover from the thrill of action, "She says I'll become a mini Lo'lo' if you keep staying around me."
He laughed, a thick hearty chuckle, "What's wrong with that? Now if there were two Myron's I'd seriously quit my job."
"Never in my life will I be like her." Morgiana walked past Lo'lo' and into the dining hall entrance.
"Enjoy your meal, My Princess." He bowed as she left him on his lonesome.
"Thank you." As is customary, she curtseyed politely and strode inside.
Seated in wait for his child's late arrival was the dignified ruler of the Fanalis Domain: Muu Alexius. "Apologies for the delay, father." Morgiana bowed with a frown, repentant of her tardiness.
"That's alright Morgiana. Take a seat," Muu smiled like a champion, banishing the apology as they partook of the meal laid out before them at the small table prepped to perfection. Fresh delicacies from across the land covered the table, the tantalizing scent activating taste buds before the food could taint the tongue, "I have some exciting news."
Morgiana sat in anticipation for the announcement setting father in such a good mood. She placed the ceramic teacup in hand on its designated saucer. The king beamed, "I've cancelled all your classes today."
The heavy silence enveloping the room marked Morgiana's surprise. Her smile matched that of her father's, "Really?" The shocking revelation seemed too good to be true. Morgiana's excitement died, there must be more to this scenario.
"That's right. I've been thinking about this for a while now and you're already fourteen years old. We have to consider the future of the kingdom and so in that regard I've invited suitable candidates from distinguished noble families who will be interviewed for the position of your betrothed. Isn't that exciting?"
Morgiana's emotions took a drastic one eighty degree turn, "You can't be serious."
"Of course I am," He clearly missed the disdain on her face, "Myron can finally stop harassing me."
"But I don't want to be married...not yet at the very least." Sounds like he cares for the interests of Myron over his own daughter.
"Morgiana, you must understand that this isn't about you. Think about the kingdom, our people. The ones who will come to be dependent on your actions in the future." Muu stated in a gentle yet firm manner. He reached out, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. She failed to find solace from the king's words, instead her thoughts simmered at the prospect of her future being planned out by her parent. What good is it if people aren't allowed to make their own decisions, left to be swayed by the tides of life inconveniencing what they wish to be their path. Morgiana could release the words threatening to escape her lips but she knew this would lead to a losing argument. She'll always lose, no matter what she did. Having the lives of countless individuals thrust upon her shoulders. Morgiana doesn't think much of herself, how can she ever hope to lead others when she herself has as many flaws as the ones beneath her. Shouldn't a leader be one without scars, with no form of imperfection to their name? Beings like us will always strive to serve under someone mightier than ourselves. It wouldn't take long for Morgiana to be overshadowed by someone of great stature. Maybe this is also why she's being handed over to some stranger against her wishes.
"I know it's a bit sudden Morgiana but I was the same age when I met your mother." She'd rather not sit through the tale of her parents meeting for the first time. Morgiana's sat through it a handful of times, those usually being when father wants to make a point. The late queen wasn't the most sophisticated of noblemen's daughter's. Her rough edges seemed to have ensnared the king - a humble prince at the time - and so, fast forwarding into the present, everything currently happening now is the work of their arranged engagement.
Morgiana could no longer stomach the chef's handiwork, the tastes gone bland as with her unfavorable mood, "We won't be engaged right away, right?"
"Of course not. It could take weeks before the right candidate is selected," father explained as he too was done with breakfast, "Considering the hundreds of possibilities to choose from-"
"Hundreds?" The number mismatched her assumed guess of ten, maybe twenty people.
Thus the grooming began. Morgiana wore her usual mask of indifference while her wardrobe and hair were done. She kept her annoyance to a minimum otherwise Myron's overzealous mood would dissipate. Her tutor hummed a sweet melody while sifting through Morgiana's wide range of available dresses and priceless articles of clothing. Myron never ceases to amaze the princess who watched her gleeful attendant pull out a rosy red and white ensemble. Catching a glimpse of Morgiana's visage cast a shadow of suspicion on Myron's face, "Why am I the only one in the room who's excited?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." Morgiana fell back, landing safely on her bed. Ruby tresses spread across her white sheets as she stared at the ceiling with a sigh.
Morgiana felt the depression on her mattress when Myron sat next to her, "To be honest, I hate when you're all gloomy Morgiana. It means I'm not doing my job right."
Morgiana rolled to the left, "It's not your fault."
The princess was no match for Myron's strength. She tugged on Morgiana's arm, rolling the princess to the right and their eyes meet, "You may not realize it now but for all you know, the man you'll marry will turn out to be the love of your life." Morgiana said nothing in return. She allowed Myron to do as the joyful attendant pleased, the end result enough to make even Lo'lo' comment.
"Wow. For once you look like an actual princess." Morgiana frowned his way but it only lasted for a second. Her personal guard leaned on the doorframe, impressed by Myron's handiwork.
Myron on the other hand didn't take too kind to his presence but retained her focus on Morgiana, "All done." Morgiana observed the outfit in the mirror, it doesn't suit her at all. She'd rather something plain as oppose to the intricate workings of this dress. She'd complain about the heels but Morgiana would be wasting her breath. Myron abandoned Morgiana to the hands of Lo'lo' while she tidied the room. Her escort dropped her off to the throne room, the king trapped in conversation with a servant as the princess sauntered up to one of two seats tailor made for the heirs of the kingdom.
Morgiana took rest beside her father, the cold of the armrest crept up her exposed arms. She's taken a liking to her older brother's chair. He passed away not too long ago in a training incident. If Masrur were still alive, he'd be the one sitting through this and not Morgiana. He wouldn't complain, that's just his selfless nature. Masrur wasn't very outspoken, however, his actions spoke louder, bolder than mere words. Stronger than the average Fanalis, Masrur didn't sit idle in the palace as does Morgiana. He fought valiantly for the peace of the kingdom, his strength rivaling that of Lo'lo'. He even taught his younger sister a few moves when father turned a blind eye to his children's free time – the secret lessons now left in the hands of Morgiana's personal guard every once in a while after midnight looms over the palace grounds. They all anticipated great things from Masrur but his untimely demise cut short those expectations.
Morgiana sat up, poised flawlessly as Myron instructed, when the candidates began entering the room one by one. Lo'lo' led them in, his smile unnerved some if not most of the flock as they made their presentations. Some were tall, others short in stature, a few showcased a multitude of scars. Many showed off their good points in the form of strength, looks, education. Factors such as those are considered a bonus to Morgiana. Handsome appearances don't mean anything if your personality's the complete opposite. The auditions went on for over an hour, Morgiana could barely keep her proper posture going. As much as her father found something intriguing about the acts of the young men coming in and out of the throne room, Morgiana found amusing the actions of Lo'lo' standing at the back. A laugh escaped lightly glossed lips when a candidate sang the poem he wrote specifically for the red haired princess, Lo'lo's mocking reenactment distracted her and caused the outburst which the boy for some reason took pleasure in.
Finally, the king called it a day. Morgiana can relax. She slumped in her seat, shaking out her shoe bound feet due to poor blood circulation.
"Anyone caught your eye, Morgiana?" No. She is not having a conversation like that with her father.
"Um…not really, no." She didn't lie. Sure some of the candidates have their pedigrees on point but they were…boring, for lack of a better word.
He clamped a large hand over Morgiana's head, disheveling her red locks. She couldn't help her smile, "The second set of candidates should be here on the morrow," Morgiana's smile recedes to an expected frown, "but for now, what are your plan for the afternoon since you have some free time?"
She didn't know. The last time Morgiana's ever had a free afternoon was…was…um, was…yeah, never. Wait, if he's asking then, "Nothing. Do you have something in mind?" She tried as best as she could to suppress her expectations. With the princess being the princess and the king performing all his royal daily duties, they barely ever get time to build on that solid father-daughter relationship.
"As a matter of fact, an associate of mine is on his way here and his eldest son will be accompanying him." She mentally face palmed.
Morgiana's head jerked to the left, escaping her father's hand, "So I'll have to entertain his son?"
"I'd use a different word rather than entertain, but you get the point." The king stood, holding out a hand to his child.
Morgiana begrudgingly accepts the gesture all the while masking her brewing negative emotions, "Of course." She accompanies the king out of the throne room. Staring out a large open window, Morgiana noted the drop in temperature and dark clouds threatening to overcast the once warm sky. Funny how the elements changed along with her current mood. If she didn't know better, Morgiana would come to the silly conclusion that she were one of The Gifted, a select few who've been blessed with abilities beyond human comprehension. Some call it witchcraft, others simply call it magic. The world's most renowned scholars termed this unusual phenomenon something a little less whimsical: The Essence. It's said that eons ago, this land once barren was blessed by an unknown entity. People began performing miracles beyond their understanding. Some said they could use natural water as a healing agent, or split the ground in two with unimaginable strength. These strange powers are what separate this land into the Eight Territories of Old. Although, it's just folklore, tall tales passed down through generations like age old bed time stories. The moment Morgiana sees someone harness the power of fire in their very hands would mean that the world is coming to an end. Yet she'll admit that that would be a spectacle to witness.
"I was hoping that we could...never mind." He's busy ruling a kingdom, Morgiana. What do you expect? She dipped her head.
Muu Alexius was many things. Oblivious to his daughter's feelings was not one of them. This distance between them is one of the reasons why she's slowly developing a rebellious streak, according to Myron. He slowed his pace, forcing Morgiana to do the same, "Listen Mor," Wow, he hasn't called her that in a while. Her mother did so frequently. Muu buried the thought, "My colleague won't be here for very long so why don't we..." He has no idea what her likes are, "do something. Anything, your choice, later this evening?"
"You mean it?" His smile was her answer.
Dreary clouds may hang over the kingdom but they could do nothing to set Morgiana's mood astray. She made no qualms about meeting the nobleman's son, even Myron was impressed with the princess' positive energy. She sat almost comfortably at lunch with the boy known as Yaqut. He was tall, the length of his hair rivaling that of the princess who never expected to have a decent conversation with the young man. They currently strode idly through the northern gardens.
"So you're the first of two?" Morgiana kept their long conversation going. He'd ask a question then she'd toss out another.
"That's right," Yaqut's hair floated in the passing wind. The breeze is wilder than usual. They should probably head back inside, "I have a younger sister."
"Must be nice having a sibling," That came out wrong, considering Yaqut's change of face as if he nearly stepped on a landmine, "I mean, someone younger to take care of."
"Well, yes. Though, Razol can be very...difficult to deal with. She tends to enjoy rough housing rather than the norm for girls her age," Morgiana wants to meet this girl, "She might be around the same age as you are. Maybe next time she'll accompany father and myself."
"She's more than welcome to." Morgiana states politely and Yaqut smiles broadly.
"So what are your interests, Lady Morgiana?" She appreciates how smoothly he moved on from the sibling topic to another.
"Well, I don't have many-" She froze for a mere second before whipping around. Yaqut fell into silence also, his large hand felt for the longsword at his side.
"Shall we take our conversation indoors?"Yaqut suggests, gingerly touching the princess' shoulder as garnet eyes dart about furiously. Morgiana was more than happy to oblige, the sudden crawl of her skin was unnerving. A downpour is on its way too.
SNAP!
Her face collides with dirt in less than a second. The frantic sound of clashing steel rung in her ears along with the pain from that unforeseen impact. Morgiana scrambles to her feet, mentally cursing the inventor of high heeled footwear. Yaqut must have pushed her out of the way of the weapon currently wrapped around the noble's sword, it's likeness that of an oddly shaped dart suspended along a thin red wire. A swift tug on the rope sent the sword spiraling out of the bulky Fanalis' grasp. The greenery before them shivers just as a white figure erupts from its depths. Red wires suspended in the atmosphere surrounding it.
Morgiana's mind took longer than usual to assess the situation, slowly recovering from its stunned state. Yaqut sprung before her, shaking Morgiana out of her short lived daze.
"Run!" His screech unintentionally harsh as two fast moving darts encircle his right arm and leg. Morgiana quickly backtracked, nearly falling several times as she took no thought of the path she's treading on blindly. She watched wide eyed when Yaqut tugged viciously on the strings, muscles engorged with might, sending his assailant into the air. That did little to subdue the white coated individual who expertly used the momentum to his advantage. He commands his arsenal of wires, securely holding Yaqut while restricting the man's control over his dominant arm. Moving in with a hidden dagger once concealed by his rags, the attacker struck!
Morgiana had no time to think about her actions. Yaqut was in danger, one of her people. No, not just that but there's someone right in front of her who'll be ripped apart in a matter of seconds. The realization sank in and her body responded with a will of its own. She sprints forward until within range. Her left foot as a pivot, Morgiana ducked low, springing upwards with as much force as she could muster. Her foot swipes across the silent killer's face, tossing him into a nearby tree. He was so focused on the male Fanalis – his stagnant prey – that he failed to see the princess's inadvertent maneuver. Morgiana whips around, her heartbeat steadily falling back in place. Yaqut pried the ropes off his skin, sinking to his knees a second later. A ferocious hacking cough escaped his lips, spewing a small pool of thick blood along with it.
"Yaqut, what's wrong?" Morgiana inspects his features once she took hold of his injured right arm. Thin cuts from the wires engraft themselves into his tan skin. The young man's eyes were dazed, lighter in colour. His lips parted, traces of crimson leaking out in rivers.
"Lady Morgiana...run...away." He instantly went limp at his final words. Yaqut's body weight nearly crushes the princess who slips from under him. Rigor mortis settled faster than it should have. Poison, a potent one at that.
The assassin aroused from the trunk of the tree which must have broken a few ribs. Red tainted the off white bandages veiling the lower half of his face. A hasty sliver of red and silver shot towards her. Morgiana gasps, failing to get out of the way on her own. Whoever created high heels is a lifesaver. The once tall right side of her shoes was now flat as the heel broke off, sinking Morgiana to the ground. The unknown assailant slowly regains his footing, the slightest limp could be seen of his left foot. He plastered both hands together reverently, head bowed, "It is an honor, Lady Morgiana." Cold obsidian eyes ensnare the princess for a second, all the time he needs for his next onslaught. All formalities forgotten, his weapons snake away from Yaqut's lifeless form, rising into the air.
It might be self-preservation or vengeance at its finest which tapped into a slumbering form of the princess which no one's ever seen. She expertly rolled to the right, standing on her hands, performing a dangerous backflip through the air. Morgiana flung the not-so-broken other half of her footwear after the shining pincers with such precision, it even sent her into mild shock.
She knows when it comes to skill she could never hold a candle to the man swiftly rearranging his weaponry in midair. Morgiana must retreat. She's not a fighter, at least not a seasoned warrior. The miniscule minutes of training with her brother and guard were nothing in the sight of someone such as the brooding figure quickly catching up to her.
'Never give your opponent your back.' One of the many lessons taught by Masrur. What she lacks in experience, Morgiana makes up for by her knowledge of the battlefield. She ducks below the thick undergrowth of finely trimmed hedges, thankful for her small frame which nimbly weaves through the greenery. Her stalker excelled in concealing his undesirable presence. Morgiana could no longer hear him, no longer sense him. Vicious pangs attack her ribs as fear clawed at the panting princess. She couldn't use the main entrances to get back inside, she'd be left wide open to attack. Ears perk up at the grievous groan of a feeble branch breaking on her left. A glint of steel comes into view, snagging at the stem of a small tree which could have been Morgiana's ankle had a second ago not elapsed. He was close. Too close. She won't…make it, but she had to try. Her destination was within reach. The problem was shaking off the man's pursuit. She ducked once a thin branch attempted to slow her movements. Morgiana takes a clumsy right turn through the forest. Maybe…
A sharp stone finds itself in her hand. Morgiana didn't have the best aim, but this is better than nothing she supposed. The rock zoomed through the bushes in the direction opposing hers and she stopped, abruptly flattening herself to the ground. An ache erupts from her side as she came to a much needed rest, strenuous fatigue settles across her frame. She reminds herself, however, that she's not out of the woods yet. Literally. Her rib cage receives a small peace of mind once Morgiana's heart rate drops ever so slightly. Eyes scan the grounds for anything out of the ordinary. The only sounds being the leaves swaying above and her jagged breath she pleaded to remain silent.
This all happened so fast. Where did that man come from? What is his purpose? Why kill…?
That's right. Yaqut is…
'No', cried her inward sobs. He didn't do anything to deserve this fate. Why?
Morgiana unfurled the crushed blades of grass which stain her quivering hands. As much as she tried, her hands, arms, everything was shaking. The world trembles, a never ending quake that paralyses the princess. A tremor that refuses to subside. Morgiana doesn't know how much time has passed, but the glass shattering screech that flooded the airwaves broke her body out of the confines of her inner prison of fear. She shakily sat up on bruised knees. Now that her senses are no longer numb, she picks up other sounds permeating the atmosphere. Not only that but the putrid scent of…sulphur and…something else, filled the air. She had to find somebody, anybody. Anyone who can tell her that all of this isn't real. That she's still comfortably bundled in sleep, dreaming. That there were no suitors waiting in line to take her hand in marriage. No assassins roaming around the grounds in search of prey. No…dead body in the garden…no…blood…
After the uncontrollable seize of her stomach and a light dizzy spell, Morgiana's sustenance from earlier claws its way up her throat. She vomits. Unsteadily crawling away from the site of a desecrated shrub, she arises with the brush of her dirtied arm across slightly ajar lips. Morgiana's movements were sluggish at best. The eerie sensation of being watched inflicts yet another frigid chill up her neck. Her thoughts drift to that shriek from earlier. Was it from the castle? Is everyone safe? Father…
A rapid surge of energy coerces Morgiana forward. She took no thought for stealth. The aching desire to see her father urged the princess to get back to the palace as quickly as possible. She'd use the hidden entrance nearby, a small opening expertly concealed by a large thicket surrounding one of the castle walls near the kitchens. She discovered it not too long ago. Bushes and twigs part once the princess carefully shifts through the greenery, eyes set on the little window barring her means of entry. The window opens easily with a gentle push of both hands to the opaque piece of glass. The princess slips inside, precariously dropping through ten feet of air until swollen feet made contact with the dusty floor. A cloud of soot tickles her nose and blinds her vision of the underground wine cellar. Frantic footfalls echo from above, mingled with the cruel cries of agony no doubt originating from the royal family's attendants throughout the castle.
She finds the short stairwell leading up to the exit, bursting the aged door open on impact. Meeting the distorted gaze of a bulky man she's never witnessed inside the castle froze her to the spot just as he was, but only momentarily as a flash of steel poked out from his side. A greedy smirk plays on the stranger's lips as he takes two steps forward, matching the princess' backward strides, "Finally found you, Princess. How shameful to be hiding in the basement like a little mouse." He slurs, reveling in some form of unknown amusement.
The dangerous threat dangling from his right hand was enough to spur Morgiana's footsteps. She made a mad dash to the left while the man's guard was down, evading him with ease. Never should you underestimate 'little mice'.
A burning pain stabs the top of Morgiana's head. Tighter, remorseless, the stranger pulls on her thick tendrils of scarlet caught within the web of his large free hand. An unwanted cry of torment escapes her lips. Morgiana inwardly curses herself for showcasing such weakness out in the open. Viciously, he yanks Morgiana towards him, the deathly weapon equipped in his grasp inches near her throat. Closer, closer.
Her movements were fluid, unlike anything she's ever felt before. Leaping with both feet, Morgiana lands a solid blow to the man's torso. His heavy body flew into the wall at the end of the hall, cracking the concrete structure which fused with his unconscious form. Morgiana fell to both knees, inhaling deep breaths after that encounter. A sudden pool of red coated the tiles around her. Morgiana brushes both hands through her once lengthy scarlet hair. Myron's string of uncouth curses were already rewinding in Morgiana's mind. Luckily she got out of that without sustaining any permanent damage.
Ears perk up at the sound of more footsteps coming from the adjacent hall. Another confrontation with an enemy is the last thing she needs right now. Being at father's side is all that matters. Morgiana runs as fast as she could, away from the oncoming mass of bodies closing in. Her hearing's never been this way, as though she could see what's directly in front of her using her ears. There's someone nearby. She'd take her chances against a single enemy versus a group. Her footfalls slow to a gallant tiptoe. She knows they're there, her one advantage. Morgiana flattens herself to the smooth wall, blood boiling with anticipation as she awaits her target's arrival. Three seconds, two, one…
Air was expelled out of her lungs in a heartbeat. Morgiana's stomach lurched for the second time today, the impact of her back hitting the wall broke a body part somewhere. She was so disoriented she couldn't even tell where the pain was coming from. There's something pressing her to the wall, letting go a second later. A regretful voice declares, "My lady!" Never has a sweeter sound touched her ears like the sound of Lo'lo's voice. She tried to speak but couldn't. Morgiana settles for burying her head into his chest, failing to wrap her damaged right arm around him, "Princess…Morgiana." Lo'lo' took her up in both arms, his voice weaker than she's ever heard. She winced when he crushes her to his side.
"You're hurt." He said on inspecting her, "Your hair!" Lo'lo's hand trails along Morgiana's now shoulder length tresses, "Who…who did this!" Her personal guard trembles with a mixture of emotions Morgiana didn't dare understand.
"It's alright." She spoke softly, taking hold of Lo'lo's right shoulder to calm him, "Only my arm hurts a little but I'm okay." Morgiana fails to smile in reassurance.
Traces of regret cross Lo'lo's visage, making Morgiana bite her tongue, "I didn't know it was you. I'm…so sorry, My Lady. I can break my own arm as recompense for-"
"What are you saying?!" Morgiana says above his tone, "What good would that do if someone attacks us?"
Lo'lo' ponders the princess' words, scooping Morgiana into both his arms with his answer, "This is why you're the wise royal and not me. To think you don't see yourself as a proper heir to the throne, Princess."
"It takes more than wisdom to be a good ruler Lo'lo'." She responds, allowing herself the comfort of being carried. She would have protested if this were a regular day.
Lo'lo' runs away from the footsteps they both hear echoing down the hall, "Now, to get you out of here."
"What?" Her voice shuddered, jostled by Lo'lo's speedy movements, "But what about father?"
"You should be more concerned about your own safety, My Lady." Lo'lo's response was the incorrect one.
Morgiana squirms in Lo'lo's grip, "No. We have to find father."
"I'm following your father's orders, not mine." Lo'lo' wasn't happy about the situation either. Morgiana can understand, he's simply carrying out his duties. However.
"Lo'lo'." She stares into his eyes with burning conviction, "You're my personal guard before being father's right hand. He gave you the job of dealing with my requests and this is one of them. We are going to find the king and insubordination will not be tolerated."
He took a right at the next hallway intersection, grinning as usual, "Tell me again how you won't be the next queen, My Lady?" She won't be, she doesn't want it.
"Be silent." She grumbles below her breath, resting her temples to his chest.
Lo'lo' laughs it off, "I think what you're trying to say is, shut up. Although," He clears his throat, Morgiana can sense the Myron impression coming along, "that would be unladylike of you, Lady Morgiana."
Morgiana almost smiles but a thought came to mind, "Do you know anything about her whereabouts?"
Lo'lo' shook his head in response, his sharp features grim, "You should be concerned about whoever the poor soul is who crosses her path right about now. Even I'm not mad enough to take on Myron when she's pissed. I mean upset."
"I don't mind your informalities, Lo'lo'." A great way for Morgiana to understand some of the norms floating around the common folk that are never a part of her daily lessons.
"Strangest princess ever." He didn't speak to Morgiana in particular.
"Lo'lo'," Morgiana grips a portion of his toned left arm, "let me down now." There's someone nearby. He didn't seem to understand her caution. Morgiana cuts him off before words escape Lo'lo', "Someone's near." He stops immediately, carefully setting Morgiana on her feet.
"How did you know?" He asks, eyeing the princess with a stare she's never witnessed from her personal guard.
"It's just…a feeling." She describes it loosely.
Lo'lo's interest on the matter casts a proud smile on his face. His ruby eyes scan the hall, "He's been hanging around us for a while now, even before we found each other," Morgiana's glad Lo'lo isn't under the impression that the princess is hallucinating, "His presence comes and goes."
"How do you know it's a man?" Morgiana loops her good arm with Lo'lo's, drawing nearer.
"The scent. It's why I sort of went easy on you since I knew I was dealing with a woman. Well, girl." Morgiana scowls, "What? You're still a kid, why are you even offended?" She refuses him the answer. That's for going easy on her.
"Moving on," She brushes Lo'lo's commentary aside, "Our pursuer." At the utterance of those words, Lo'lo' unsheathed his silver sword, crashing the formidable weapon onto a gleaming steel blade just out of Morgiana's reach. The Fanalis captain parried his opponent's weapon, taking the princess into his arms and withdrawing to the opposite end of the hall in the span of a single breath. Morgiana was thrust to Lo'lo's back, her personal guard shielding her from the oncoming threat standing before them.
"I was under the impression that you Fanalis lot were mere barehanded warriors," A cheerful voice greets them along with a striking smile from the silver haired man closing the distance between them, "Finally, a worthy opponent."
Lo'lo' withdraws his steel, plunging the weapon back to its slender sheath at his side, "Swords aren't really my thing."
"Seems that way. I could've easily slit your throat out by now but I was hoping for a good fight. Since you had no problems denying my first request for a match, I doubt you'd be interested in my second but," The man stops his steps at a reasonable distance, withdrawing his own blade, "care to lend a listening ear?" The sword once sheathed at the man's side glistened at Lo'lo's neck. Morgiana didn't see him move. How did he clear the distance without being seen? "I want the princess."
Morgiana's eyes must be malfunctioning. She blinked once and the assailant was being crushed to the wall at Morgiana's back. Scarlet droplets stain the floor, the dark skinned man's torso being crushed by Lo'lo's upper body. Thick pools of blood now congregate at the feet of both men, their source…
"Lo'lo!" Morgiana screams, the gash across her guard's body making a mess of her insides. His armor, now sliced through like rags, hung from his sagging body. Mingled with Lo'lo's blood was the life essence of the unknown swordsman who nearly chokes on the crimson fluid. Both men were motionless, still. Caught in a deadlock. Lo'lo' releases the swordsman's blade which slices deeply through his palm. Her guard's opponent followed, freeing himself of the metallic weapon caked with blood. Lo'lo' staggers away from his foe, his gaze locked onto the princess. She saw the instant change of his features as they morph into dread.
"I turn my attention away from you for twenty minutes and this is how I find you?" Morgiana's senses grew increasingly attentive at that voice, "Pitiful."
"No don't turn around!" Lo'lo's commanding yell froze Morgiana to the spot. A cold sweat broke out across her brow as time passes silently. Morgiana could only stare into the feral eyes of her personal guard who was more interested in the figure standing behind her.
"I can just leave you here to die," The white clad assassin from earlier stood directly at Morgiana's right, "but that would be troublesome. Sin sees you as an important asset for his future plans so your usefulness isn't completely depleted just yet." Something sharp pokes the princess at her back, even while the assassin strides confidently towards Lo'lo', "Fanalis. I propose a trade. The useless swordsman for the princess. I'll even throw in this." A female body bound in red thread was callously tossed to the floor near Morgiana. Scarlet eyes burned at their corners when Morgiana drops to the ground beside the woman, Lo'lo's protests of staying still all forgotten, "Although, she'll be dead in minutes."
Morgiana could hardly make out Myron's face through the fog of tears clouding her vision. Poison-laced red wires withdraw from her limp body. Her teacher panted heavily, unable to move as the poison made quick work of her insides. Myron's tanned skin tone faded with each passing second, "Myron." The princess trembles.
"Mor…" Myron's quaking arm arose from her side, to simply fall back to the floor, "Please…cape…" It was difficult to make out her words, "we…need…yo…t…" Her last breath subsides.
Morgiana heard Lo'lo's deafening screams which died soon after. His body making swift contact with the ground. The white clad man's weaponry slice through the air and back to their master's side.
"Lady Morgiana." The assassin's voice, "It isn't safe for a princess to be out in the open in a place like this. Please do take care." Morgiana affords him her attention. The white cloaked man hoisters up his companion, nagging profanities at the unconscious swordsman as they leave the hall.
"Myron." Morgiana whips around at Lo'lo's voice. Her personal guard slowly rose to his knees, stroking the dead's head with a finger. He stands onto both feet and takes hold of the princess. No words pass between the two, just silence. Myron is…gone. Many others having possibly joined her. What if father…
"Please be okay." Morgiana's shaky grip on Lo'lo' must be causing him pain but he didn't complain.
They were quickly on their way to the throne room. Soon, she'll see father and everything will be okay. He'll clamp his large hand over her head like always, smile like a star and melt all her worries away. They took another right turn and made it to the throne room entrance. The doors have been loosened from their hinges and debris from the broken walls cluttered the pathway. Through the nauseating carnage littering the hallway, Morgiana saw it. Father's sword – its pommel crafted in the likeness of a carnivorous lion's head. Lo'lo' slowed to a stop at the sight of his men. Brothers in arms, all murdered prematurely. Morgiana witnesses the despair clawing at his face and easily slips from his grasp. She too could fell the weight of sorrow as familiar faces who've served the royal family diligently for years were now forever creased with uncontrollable fear and pain at the sight of death. Morgiana expected Lo'lo's call when she passed near the lifeless bodies to capture father's sword where it lay. She wonders why it was here and not at the faithful side of its wielder. The sword thinly coated with a garnet hue across its deadly blade. The same sword used to…decapitate…
She nearly dropped the accursed weapon when her heightened screams were muffled by Lo'lo's large hand on her mouth, his other hand caught her by the waist and they were on the move. She trashed about, trying her hardest to be set free but Lo'lo' denies her that freedom.
"Over there!" Someone yells, drawing attention to the pair of red heads.
A colourful curse escapes Lo'lo's lips when he enters an open door. Father's study. Father…
Her screams grow beyond the boundary of Lo'lo's hand, tears tracing the fingers that cover Morgiana's avid cries. Lo'lo' dashes behind the final bookshelf, hastily uncovering a trapdoor beneath the ruby red carpet at his feet. He drops Morgiana inside first then swiftly follows, closing the way behind him. If she was expecting such a drop, Morgiana wouldn't have landed on her fractured arm. Sobs and tears flowed profusely from the princess who was taken up none-too-gently by Lo'lo'. He led her down a dark, dank pathway, another of the castle's secrets she had yet to discover. Morgiana could hear the sounds of footsteps trailing behind them and Lo'lo' moved faster.
"Lo'lo'." Her voice weak. She kept repeating his name but the guard never responds.
He stops when they reach a dead end, or so she thought. Lo'lo' uses the last ounce of strength his body holds and with the loudest grunt possible, bursts through a trapdoor leading to the outside. Light pours in, expelling the darkness which once plagued the princess' eyesight. She was propped up onto the grassy lawn of what appears to be beyond the castle gates. When Lo'lo' makes no movement to follow suit, Morgiana lends him a hand, one her personal guard refuses. His grim facial expression shifts to one of glee as Lo'lo's signature smirk plays on his face, "Well, my lady, it was my pleasure to be of service to you."
"What?" No, what's he saying!
His smile drops and Lo'lo' turns his back on the princess, "I'll hold them back so you can escape."
"No…no! I…you can't just-" "Morgiana!" His scream slices through her bitter ranting.
His final look at her disheartened face, dark red eyes filled with a mismatched brew of emotion, Lo'lo' spoke in a voice so low it was a miracle she heard him, "Avenge us, Princess." The trapdoor was sealed by his strength.
"Lo'lo'!" Morgiana took hold of the door but failed to pry it open. Even father's sword, coupled with her strength, formed not a dent in its sturdy frame.
"It came from over there!"
A multitude of men scouting the area nearly found her. Morgiana hurries away from them, aching bare feet swollen and bruised by the time she awards herself a break. She slides down the bark of a tree, her lungs near bursting. The princess hugs both feet to her small frame, cradling father's weapon also. The silence permeating the atmosphere made her lonelier than she already was. Everyone's gone. They've all left her side. What was even the point of running away when she could let herself be captured, reunite with everyone she's lost? Father, Mother, Masrur…everyone, "Would you look at that. Found one." Her head snaps up, meeting the sinister smirks of a pair clad in dark cloaks. The steel gleaming in their hands insinuate a shiver across her body, "How much coin do you think this one will fetch us?"
"Don't know. She does have a pretty face. I say she's a keeper."
"You say that about all of them. There's something called being too greedy," The other responds, "She's a noble, we can buy all the slaves and entertainment we need after we're done with her."
They draw closer but Morgiana was rooted to her spot. Her strength was no match for two armed men. She's only the weak, pampered princess who's about to-
Before her very eyes, the two men's footsteps were suddenly halted just as a third stranger materializes behind them. He was tall, covered by an intricately designed robe and long pink hair flowed from his disheveled ponytail. The black fan he held in his hand partially covers his neutral face as the man walks towards Morgiana. He passes through the wide gap between the frozen pair of men who both fall unconscious to the hard ground. The pink haired man sighs, looking down on them with disdain, "It's so unfortunate, how mankind has fallen to such a lowly state of affairs. Don't you agree, Lady Morgiana?" Magenta eyes lock onto frightened scarlet ones, "Worry not, I am far from being your enemy." He stood a foot away from her balled form. The man sweeps his black fan across Morgiana and she ducks for cover, to be enveloped by a faded white light. Fatigue melts away in an instant. The searing pain erupting from her broken arm subsided as though it were never present.
She looks up to meet his eyes, ever passive, ever calculative, "Thank you." Morgiana finds her soft voice.
"Your castle is under siege." He remarks, his sights set on the palace not far from them. The mysterious man's eyes drift back to the princess, "What will you do?"
She refused him an answer until the words come out beyond her control, "What can I do?"
"Hmm." He offers the princess a hand, "I believe that you've already received the answer to that."
'Avenge us, Princess.' Lo'lo's final words replay in her mind. Morgiana takes the man's offer and stands onto both feet, father's sword feeling easier to carry. She shook her head, both to rid herself of ghastly memories and to answer his claims.
"I also have found the solution to my current predicament. I truly hope that you too will come to the suitable conclusion, when the time is right." Morgiana's vision darkens, the memories of a pink haired man vanishing along with it. However, the events of that day could never be wiped clean from her mind. The castle brought to ruin, her loved ones massacred and the one who sat on father's throne after slaying the king. His mane of rich purple hair, the shade so vivid in her mind that it clung like a miserable stain.