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 ^_^
(Update: Chapters 1-11 will be edited.)
╔═══*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*═══╗
Chapter 1
╚═══*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*═══╝
The scorching heat earlier that day dissolved into an overcast sky, the serene afternoon breeze intensified. It will rain soon, a torrential downpour unfitting their current season of drought. He sat comfortably on the beige balcony railing, feet dangling two tiers above ground level. Magenta eyes lazily skimmed the thick open tome in his arms before a sudden wave of disinterest settled over him. Pulsating wind currents flipped 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 happened to reside in the northernmost portion of the land most frequently. The air appeared significantly cleaner and the surrounding towns were 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 sparking interest. Coupled with the strange weather pattern…no, he must be reading into it too much. The elements had 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 preferred the company of his compiled book collection.
Sifting through discoloured parchments and articles from decades before, he rummaged for the magic tool the enigmatic Sage passed onto him. He found the lifeless transparent orb, fitting it perfectly in the palm of his hand. He may just be experiencing a simple case of paranoia but existing for as long as he has taught you not to take singularities lightly.
The activation mechanism of the orb was simple. It primarily depended on imagination. His thoughts concocted the image of the benevolent Sage of the South, as the aforementioned dubbed himself. Such trivial formalities held no importance to the isolated drifter.
"Yes?" The voice hinted that its owner had 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. Raindrops excitedly drummed 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 was audio based only. A first. The orb must be malfunctioning. Although, he was glad about the absence of that beaming smile he found 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 muttered in response.
"I won't deny that," The Sage jovially responded, "However, no one can truly grasp everything there is to know about our universe, don't you agree?"
He disliked when the Sage redirected 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 was no need for a reminder.
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."
"Why be anxious for what the future holds?" He imagined his colleague's cheeky smile, "I'll simply wait and see what fate has in store."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ : *. .* : ﾟ. ───
Dominion of the Red Lions, the kingdom's name of old. That, or the Fanalis Domain. A mighty empire standing at the epicenter of their world's order. Located within the reaches of both Strength Nation and Fire Kingdom's borders, the impregnable fortress had withstood the tests of time for generations. Amidst the current wave of famine across the land, the busy kingdom continued to flourish prosperously. 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 granted its 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 worked tirelessly to afford them the leisure of having a fun-filled youthful life. Sadly, not everyone had the freedom to do as they pleased. Even at the age of adolescence – and the coming years as she bloomed into a fine adult – she would 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 quiet moan mingled 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 irritating servant tapped her foot indignantly for the past minute, "I keep telling you, you'll never find a good husband at this rate."
Why Morgiana must be subjected to such a grouchy teacher, she'll never figure out. Of course, Myron was indeed great at her job of educating the young heiress to the Fanalis Domain. However, Morgiana just doesn't care. Why did 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 was a daughter of the Alexius Family, a prominent name superior to every existing royal family. Yet, the red head couldn't hold a candle to someone like the flawless Princess Kougyoku of the Water Kingdom. Morgiana simply wasn't into all the formalities that came with bearing such responsibility for an entire Kingdom. Sure, her people suspected she was the smiling, elegant young lady who received everything she so desired served on a stainless silver platter but there was more to her than waving at her happy citizens and getting all she owned from her parent.
No one's given the choice as to where they're born or if they should be alive in the first place. Social standings, ethnicity, why do such matters define man? Who had 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've approached the princess make their heartfelt yet backbiting commentary, "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 could flash ivory white teeth as much as possible, it still wouldn't conceal their jealously. Man's heart was wicked after all, never know what's lurking beneath his façade of deception.
The red haired princess slipped off her untidy bed, 'It's always husband this, husband that.' Morgiana's never seen Myron flaunting off an engagement ring either. Marriage was 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 fell on deaf ears. Who would want to get married at fourteen years old, for political means no less?
Myron had this vain imagination of some prince whisking her away someday, a man who would 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 was the one who understood that barely anyone married anymore unless they reaped some sort of benefit from their spouse. Besides, marrying into the royal family meant that whoever's chosen would be king after her father. Meaning, their marriage proposal must be phenomenal enough to appease her parent or they'll walk out with the harsh sting of rejection.
That about summed up why Morgiana didn't care who the next king would be nor cared for the string of words from Myron 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. She swapped her blue nightgown for a plain white dress better suited for breakfast with father.
"You're always surrounded by that brute," Myron referred 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 reveled 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 had her reasons. As graceful and stunning as Princess Kougyoku might be, that could never mask the interior of her cold hearted soul. She had 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 grinned – he always grinned – poking the princess in the middle of her forehead while standing under the doorframe.
His childish antics never ceased to cast a smile on Morgiana's features. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, "That's assault you know."
"Really?" His head lolled to the side mockingly, "What, you'll have me executed?"
"You should be." Myron marched up to him, eyes narrowed, "Don't you think it's impolite to enter the Princess' room unannounced?" As she did a minute ago?
Lo'lo' rolled his eyes before his sights caught the floor, "Have I?" The threshold remained 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 stopped near their destination, Morgiana untangled their arms, "She'll complain about you again."
"It's all she does." Lo'lo' didn't seem bothered.
Morgiana flexed her feet after that light exercise, blood pumping vigorously through her veins. She took 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 attempted a polite curtsey 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, which had 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've been 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." He cared 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 depend on your actions in the future." Muu stated gently, yet firmly. He reached out, brushing loose strands of hair off 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. Morgiana could release the words threatening to escape her lips but she knew it would lead to a losing argument. She always lost, no matter what she did.
Having the lives of countless individuals thrust upon her shoulders…
Morgiana didn't think much of herself, how could she ever hope to lead others when she herself had as many flaws as the ones beneath her. Shouldn't a leader be one without scars, with no form of imperfection to their name?
Humans strove to serve under a mightier power. It wouldn't take long for Morgiana to be overshadowed by someone of greater stature.
"I know it's a bit sudden Morgiana but I was the same age when I met your mother." She would rather not sit through another rendition of her parents meeting for the first time. Morgiana's sat through their tale a handful of times, those usually being when her father wanted to make a point. The late queen wasn't the most sophisticated of noblemen's daughters. 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 having 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.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ : *. .* : ﾟ. ───
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 ceased to amaze the princess who watched as her gleeful attendant pulled out a rosy red and white ensemble. Catching a glimpse of Morgiana's visage, a shadow of suspicion crossed 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 flared 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 identical ruby eyes met, "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 and allowed Myron to do as the joyful attendant pleased with her appearance, 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 ignored his presence completely, retaining her focus on Morgiana, "All done." Morgiana observed the outfit in the mirror, it doesn't suit her at all. Something far plainer would strike her fancy rather than the intricate workings of the dress adorning her petite body. 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 creeping up her exposed arms. She's taken a liking to her older brother's chair. He passed away not long ago in a training incident. If Masrur were still alive, he'd be the one sitting through courtship interviews, not Morgiana. Although, he would never complain, that was just his selfless nature. Masrur wasn't very outspoken but his actions spoke louder, bolder than mere words. Stronger than the average Fanalis, Masrur never sat 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 loomed 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 were considered a bonus to Morgiana. Handsome appearances meant nothing if your personality was utter rubbish. The auditions went on for over an hour, Morgiana barely keeping 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' stationed 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 could relax. She slumped in her seat, shaking off her shoe bound feet due to poor blood circulation.
"Anyone caught your eye, Morgiana?" No. She was not having that conversation 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 receded to an expected frown, "but for now, what are your plans for the afternoon since you have some free time?"
She had none. The last time Morgiana ever had a free afternoon was…was…um, was…yeah, never. Wait, if he asked 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 duties, they barely 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 accepted the gesture all the while masking her brewing negative emotions, "Of course." She accompanied 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 blessed with abilities beyond human comprehension. Some call it witchcraft, others magic. The world's most renowned scholars termed this unusual phenomenon something a little less whimsical: The Essence.
Allegedly, eons ago, their once barren world was blessed by an unknown entity. People began performing miracles beyond their understanding. Some used natural water as a healing agent, or could split the very ground in two with unimaginable strength. These strange powers were what separated the 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 saw someone harness the power of fire in their very hands would mean the world was coming to a grievous end. Yet, she'd admit that that would be a spectacle to witness.
"I was hoping that we could...never mind." He was busy ruling a kingdom, Morgiana. What were you expecting?
She dipped her head.
Muu Alexius was many things. Oblivious to his daughter's feelings was not one of them. The distance between them was one of many reasons why she was slowly developing a rebellious streak, according to Myron. He slowed his pace, forcing Morgiana to do the same, "Listen Mor," Wow, he hadn'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 had no idea what her interests were, "Do something. Anything, your choice, later this evening?"
"You mean it?" His smile was her answer.
Dreary clouds hung 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 named 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 was 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. However, Razol can be very...difficult to deal with. She tends to enjoy rough housing rather than the norm for girls her age," Morgiana wanted 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 stated politely, Yaqut smiled broadly in response.
"So what are your interests, Lady Morgiana?" She appreciated how smoothly he maneuvered 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 suggested, gingerly touching the princess' shoulder as garnet eyes darted about furiously. Morgiana was more than happy to oblige, the sudden crawl of her skin was unnerving. A downpour was on its way also.
SNAP!
Her face collided 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 scrambled 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, its 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 shivered just as a white figure erupted from its depths, red wires suspended in the atmosphere surrounding it.
Morgiana's mind took a moment 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 encircled his right arm and leg. Morgiana quickly backtracked, nearly falling several times as she took no thought of the path she treaded on blindly. She watched wide eyed as 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 commanded 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 was someone right in front of her who'd be ripped apart in a matter of seconds. The realization sank in and her body responded with a will of its own. She sprinted forward until she was within range. Her left foot as a pivot, Morgiana ducked low, springing upwards with as much force as she could muster. Her foot swiped across the silent killer's face, tossing him into a nearby tree. So engrossed in the male Fanalis – his stagnant prey – the attacker failed to see the princess's inadvertent maneuver. Morgiana whipped 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 inspected his features once she took hold of his injured right arm. Thin cuts from the wires engrafted 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 crushed the princess who slipped 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 gasped, failing to get out of the way on her own.
Whoever created 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 regained his footing, the slightest limp seen of his left foot. He plastered both hands together reverently, head bowed, "It is an honor, Lady Morgiana." Cold obsidian eyes ensnared the princess for a second, all the time he needed for his next onslaught. All formalities forgotten, his weapons snaked away from Yaqut's lifeless form, rising into the air.
It might be self-preservation or vengeance at its finest, tapping 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 knew that when it came to skill she could never hold a candle to the man swiftly rearranging his weaponry in midair. Morgiana must retreat. She was 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 many lessons taught by Masrur. What she lacked in experience, Morgiana made up for by her knowledge of the battlefield. She ducked below the thick undergrowth of finely trimmed hedges, thankful for her small frame which nimbly weaved through the greenery. Her stalker excelled in concealing his undesirable presence. Morgiana could no longer hear him, no longer sense him. Vicious pangs attacked 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 perked up at the grave groan of a feeble branch breaking on her left. A glint of steel came 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 wouldn'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 took a clumsy right turn through the forest. Maybe…
A sharp stone found itself in her hand. Morgiana doesn't have the best aim, but her options were limited. The rock zoomed through the bushes in the direction opposing hers and she stopped, abruptly flattening herself to the ground. An ache exploded from her side, strenuous fatigue settling across her frame. She reminded herself, however, that she's not out of the woods yet. Literally. Her rib cage received a small peace of mind once Morgiana's heart rate dropped ever so slightly. Eyes scanned the grounds for anything out of the ordinary. The only sounds being the leaves swaying above and her jagged breaths she pleaded to remain silent.
Everything happened so fast. Where did the man come from? What was his purpose? Why kill…?
That's right. Yaqut was…
'No', cried her inward sobs. He did nothing to deserve his fate. So why?
Morgiana unfurled the crushed blades of grass which stained her quivering hands. As much as she tried, her hands, arms, everything was shaking. The world trembled, a never-ending quake that paralyzed the princess. A tremor that refused to subside. Morgiana doesn't know how much time had 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 were no longer numb, she picked 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 could tell her that all of it wasn't real. That she was 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 clawed its way up her throat. She vomited. Unsteadily crawling away from the site of a desecrated shrub, she arose with the brush of her dirtied arm across slightly ajar lips. Morgiana's movements were sluggish at best. The eerie sensation of being watched inflicted yet another frigid chill up her neck. Her thoughts drifted to the deafening shriek from earlier. Was it from the castle? Was everyone safe? Father…
A rapid surge of energy coerced 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 long ago. Bushes and twigs parted once the princess carefully shifted through the greenery, eyes set on the little window barring her means of entry. The window opened easily with a gentle push of both hands to the opaque piece of glass. The princess slipped inside, precariously dropping through ten feet of air until swollen feet made contact with the dusty floor. A cloud of soot tickled her nose, blinding her vision of the underground wine cellar. Frantic footfalls echoed from above, mingled with the cruel cries of agony no doubt originating from the royal family's attendants throughout the castle.
She found 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 played on the stranger's lips as he took 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 slurred, 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 stabbed the top of Morgiana's head. Tighter, remorseless, the stranger pulled on her thick tendrils of scarlet caught within the web of his large free hand. An unwanted cry of torment escaped her lips. Morgiana inwardly cursed herself for showcasing such weakness out in the open. Viciously, he yanked 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 landed 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. He was unconscious. Morgiana fell to both knees, inhaling deep breaths. A sudden pool of red coated the tiles around her. Morgiana brushed both hands through her once lengthy scarlet hair. Myron's string of uncouth profanities were already rewinding in Morgiana's mind. Luckily, she got out of that scuffle without sustaining any permanent damage.
Ears perked up at the sound of more footsteps coming from the adjacent hall. Another confrontation with an enemy is the last thing she needed. Being at father's side was all that mattered. Morgiana ran as fast as she could, away from the oncoming mass of bodies closing in. Her hearing had never been this way, as though she could see what's directly in front of her using her ears. Someone was nearby. She would take her chances against a single enemy versus a group. Her footfalls slowed to a gallant tiptoe. She knew the person was there, her one advantage. Morgiana flattened herself to the smooth wall, blood boiling with anticipation as she awaited her target's arrival. Three seconds, two, one…
Air 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. Something warm pressed her against the wall, letting go a second later. A regretful voice declared, "My lady!" Never had a sweeter sound touched her ears like the sound of Lo'lo's voice. She tried speaking but couldn't. Morgiana settled 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 crushed her to his side.
"You're hurt." He mumbled on inspecting her, "Your hair!" Lo'lo's hand trailed along Morgiana's now shoulder length tresses, "Who…who did this!" Her personal guard trembled with a mixture of emotions Morgiana couldn'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 failed 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 reprimanded Lo'lo', "What good would that do if someone attacks us?"
Lo'lo' pondered 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 responded, allowing herself the comfort of being carried.
Lo'lo' ran away from the footsteps they both heard 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 squirmed 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 understood, he was simply carrying out his duties. However…
"Lo'lo'." She stared 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'll never be, she doesn't want it.
"Be silent." She grumbled below her breath, resting her temples to his chest.
Lo'lo' laughed it off, "I think what you're trying to say is, shut up. Although," He cleared his throat, Morgiana sensed the Myron impression coming, "That would be unladylike of you, Lady Morgiana."
Morgiana almost smiled 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 more concerned about the poor soul 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 doesn't speak to Morgiana in particular.
"Lo'lo'," Morgiana gripped a portion of his toned left arm, "Let me down now." There was someone nearby. Morgiana cut him off before words escaped Lo'lo', "Someone's near." He stopped immediately, carefully setting Morgiana on her feet.
"How did you know?" He asked, eyeing the princess with a stare she's never witnessed from her personal guard.
"It's just…a feeling." She described loosely.
Lo'lo's interest on the matter cast a proud smile on his face. His ruby eyes scanned the hall, "He's been hanging around us for a while now, even before we found each other," Morgiana's glad Lo'lo wasn't under the impression that the princess was hallucinating, "His presence comes and goes."
"How do you know it's a man?" Morgiana looped 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 scowled, "What. You're still a kid, why are you even offended?" She refused him the answer. That was for going easy on her.
"Moving on," She brushed 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 behind 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 greeted them along with a striking smile from the silver haired man closing the distance between them, "Finally, a worthy opponent."
Lo'lo' withdrew 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 stopped 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 never saw him move, "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 stained the floor, the dark skinned man's torso crumpled by Lo'lo's upper body. Thick pools of blood congregated at the feet of both men, their source…
"Lo'lo!" Morgiana screamed, 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 choked on the crimson fluid. Both men were motionless, still. Caught in a deadlock. Lo'lo' released the swordsman's blade that sliced through his palm. Her guard's opponent followed, freeing himself of the metallic weapon caked with blood. Lo'lo' staggered away from his foe, his gaze locked on the princess. She saw the instant change of his features as they morphed 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 passed 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 poked the princess at her back, even while the assassin strode 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 dropped 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 withdrew 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 trembled.
"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 subsided.
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 sliced through the air, falling 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 afforded him her attention. The white cloaked man assisted his companion, nagging obscenities at the unconscious swordsman as they left the hall.
"Myron." Morgiana whipped around at Lo'lo's voice. Her personal guard slowly rose to his knees, stroking the dead's head with a finger. He stood on both feet, taking hold of the princess. No words passed between the two, just silence. Myron was…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 never complained.
They were quickly on their way to the throne room. Soon, she would see father and everything would be okay. He'd 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 were loosened from their hinges, 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 witnessed the despair clawing at his face and easily slipped from his grasp. She too could feel the weight of sorrow as familiar faces who served the royal family diligently for years creased in 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 wondered why it was there 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, her heightened screams muffled by Lo'lo's large hand on her mouth, his other caught her by the waist and they were on the move. She trashed about, trying her hardest to be set free but Lo'lo' denied her that freedom.
"Over there!" Someone yelled, drawing attention to the pair of red heads.
A colourful curse escaped Lo'lo's lips when he entered an open door. Father's study. Father…
Her screams grew beyond the boundary of Lo'lo's hand, tears tracing the fingers that cover Morgiana's avid cries. Lo'lo' dashed behind the final bookshelf, hastily uncovering a trapdoor beneath the ruby red carpet at his feet. He dropped Morgiana inside first then swiftly followed, closing the way behind him. If she had been 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 was weak. She kept repeating his name but the guard never responded.
He stopped when they reached a dead end, or so she thought. Lo'lo' used the last ounce of strength his body held and with the loudest grunt possible, broke through a trapdoor leading to the outside. Light poured in, expelling the darkness once plaguing the princess' eyesight. She was propped up onto the grassy lawn of what appeared to be beyond the castle gates. When Lo'lo' made no movement to follow suit, Morgiana offered him a hand, one her personal guard refused. His grim facial expression shifted to one of glee as Lo'lo's signature smirk played on his face, "Well, My Lady, it was a pleasure to be of service to you."
"What?" No, what was he saying?!
His smile dropped and Lo'lo' turned his back on the princess, "I'll hold them back so you can escape."
"No…no! I…you can't just-" "Morgiana!" His scream sliced through her bitter ranting.
With a final look at her disheartened face, his dark red eyes filled with a mismatched brew of emotions, 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.
"It came from over there!"
A multitude of men scouting the area nearly found her. Morgiana hurried away from them, aching bare feet swollen and bruised by the time she awarded herself a break. She slid down the bark of a tree, her lungs near bursting. The princess hugged 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 all left her alone. What was even the point of running away when she could let herself be captured, reunite with everyone? Father, Mother, Masrur…everyone, "Would you look at that. Found one." Her head snapped up, meeting the sinister smirks of a pair clad in dark cloaks. The steel gleaming in their hands insinuated 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 responded, "She's a noble, we can buy all the slaves and entertainment we need after we're done with her."
They drew closer but Morgiana was rooted to her spot. Her strength was no match for two armed men. She was the weak, pampered princess about to di-
Before her very eyes, the two men's footsteps suddenly halted just as a third stranger materialized behind them. He was tall, covered by an intricately designed robe and long pink hair flowed from his disheveled ponytail. The black fan in his hand partially covered his neutral face as the man walked towards Morgiana. He passed through the wide gap between the frozen pair of men who both fell unconsciously to the hard ground. The pink haired man sighed, 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 locked onto frightened scarlet ones, "Worry not, I am far from being your enemy." He stood a foot away from her balled form. The man swept his black fan across Morgiana and she ducked for cover, to be enveloped by a faded white light. Fatigue melted away in an instant. The searing pain erupting from her broken arm subsided as though it were never present.
She looked up, meeting his eyes, ever passive, ever calculative, "Thank…you." Morgiana found her soft voice but alarm never left her. How was she healed instantly?
"Your castle is under siege." He remarked, his sights set on the palace not far away. The mysterious man's eyes drifted back to the princess, "What will you do?"
She refused him an answer until the words spilled out, "What can I do?"
"Hmm." He offered the princess a hand, "I believe that you've already received the answer to that."
'Avenge us, Princess.' Lo'lo's final words replayed in her mind. Morgiana accepted the mysterious man's gesture wearily, standing on both feet. Father's sword feeling easier to carry.
"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 darkened, the memories of a pink haired man vanishing along with it. However, the remaining events from that miserable day could never be wiped clean from her thoughts. The castle brought to ruin, her loved ones massacred and the one who sat on her father's throne after slaying the king. His mane of rich purple hair, a shade so vivid it clung to Morgiana's mind like a permanent stain.
Edited: October 17th, 2020