Disclaimers: Yue's Lady: (bonks WG with a carrot)
Winged Guardian: Whyyyy??? (cries)
Yue's Lady: Payback. (smiles sweetly) And because you took so long to update.
Winged Guardian: mutters CCS doesn't belong to me... ;-;
Note
"..." stands for speech
Italics stand for thoughts
{...} stands for author's comments
'...' stands for thought-speech
Battle of the Arch Rivals
By Winged Guardian
Chapter One: 'Magic After-effects'
The room seemed inappropriately bright to the young woman dressed in pale green silks, and she gave a soft, weary sigh. The mild sulphuric scent filled her nostrils and gave her a detached feeling, not unlike that of having a weird and slightly unpleasant dream. The sources of the smell were the little crystals that flamed and flickered in miniature alcoves hugging the whitewashed wall. It was the only wall that was unadorned by rich tapestries decked out in vivid colors. As a result, the further end of the room was washed in a gradient of fading light, the far wall bathed in lingering darkness.
She allowed her eyes to rest on the soft, faded shadows that moved at every flicker of the crystal fire. The herald announced the last of the newcomers and the door swung shut with an audible click. It sounded like the door of the dungeon being locked, a sound that declared the start of the dreary but obligatory activities.
A wave of nausea swept across her, and her dark eyelashes touched her cheeks for a minute. She willed her eyelids open again. Her right hand traced a curious sign in the air. Her left hand was pressed lightly on the cold, hard wall, her single white-gold bangle catching the firelight as it bit into her hand. Giving the bangle a shake, it slid down the length of her hand, obediently coming to a rest at her wrist. She wanted to lean her head against the wall and shut her eyes to the painfully brilliant colors interrupting her shadow-gazing. However, the stern taskmaster that had brought her here commanded appropriate behavior, and she gave in to Duty, resigned.
"Don't look so glum, Sakura," a little voice whispered and the young woman named Sakura jerked with surprise when she saw who had spoken. Shining blue eyes glimmered in mischief, and her sister winked at her.
"You're supposed to smile at them before you break their hearts, Sakura," Fiora grinned.
"Fiora! You're not supposed to be here!" Sakura whispered severely, ignoring the comment. Despite her reproachful tone, a glowing smile lit up her face.
Sakura gave Fiora a quick embrace and drew the signs with her fingertips and released the spell with a word. Fiora did the same deftly and added a flick of her wrist at the end of the invisible symbols. It was complete. They could now talk to each other in the silence of their minds. It was necessary for the both of them to release the spell where it would suffice for one if they were of the same magic. However, they were not, and thus it was required.
'Fiora, you're twelve.'
'What about it?' came the innocent reply.
Sakura gave the glass Fiora was holding a pointed look. Fiora maintained the guiltless expression, but her cheeks took on a slight flush.
'I'm thirteen, not twelve.'
'Big difference," said Sakura, casting her eyes skywards.
Changing the subject abruptly, Fiora asked, 'What's with the dark to light theme?', glancing at the shadows Sakura had previously been staring at.
'It's to create an artistic effect and give future-couples a chance to bond in privacy," Sakura sent her thought to Fiora, eyeing the darkness critically, 'I suppose it was rude of me to stare so much, not that I could see a thing.'
Fiora's eyes widened and she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks, 'You mean...'
'Yes,' replied Sakura, hiding a smile when Fiora hastily averted her eyes.
Falling silent, Sakura's eyes took on a dreamy cast as her mind slipped out of the muddled setting, and Fiora watched her, thinking as she held her sister's hand, what those beautiful green eyes had cost her. They were so painfully obvious and proclaimed to the world the depth of her magic.
Feeling the familiar small hand in hers, Sakura smiled at her. Although they looked nothing alike, Fiora reminded her of Rialr. There was times when she wondered, if that deep and peculiar friendship was but a dream, if Rialr was someone conjured up to chase away her loneliness in those long days of puzzled unhappiness before Fiora was born.
It was one of those days when the feeling of emptiness was so strong that she had run away from the servants to the isolated parts of the palace. She could not stand any more of those half-fearful, half-knowing looks that followed her wherever she went. Even as a child, she understood that there was something different about her, and because it was not allowed, she could not be treated the same way as others. Thus it was in despair and desolation that she came across Rialr.
For some people, especially with those with magical abilities, it was said that when they met someone who would irrevocably change their lives entirely, at that instant of meeting, a chill would wash over them as arrows of ice pierced through their hearts. And for those few whose lives were intertwined and paths cut out since the birth of the stars, the sensation would touch their very souls.
In the case of Sakura and Rialr, there was instead an immediate consciousness, a spiritual awakening of a part of their minds, which told them true that their meeting was not supposed to be, and nowhere in the lines of destiny was written that possibility.
In each of them materialized a recognition of the same desperate need in the other, and because of that, a bond beyond that of friendship was formed, against fate, by the deeds of pure chance.
However, with the arrival of a baby sister, contact ceased despite a few attempts to find Rialr. It was as if a door was closed in her life and no matter how hard she searched after, Sakura could not find the room that belonged specially to Rialr and her in their hearts.
The sorrow and the aching regret faded, along with the nostalgic memories, and so it seemed a dream, those early days of childhood.
"Lady, Princess, would you dance with me?" asked a voice, however polite, jutting into her thoughts.
Startled, Sakura looked up and found herself staring at a Dero. He was a typical one – tall, well-built with hair so dark that it appeared to be made up of shadow. Oddly, he was smiling, and at that, Sakura's stare became one of astonishment.
Seeing her surprise, the Dero's smile widened, reminding her strongly of a boy about to do mischief. He grasped Sakura's hand and led her to the dance floor before she could protest.
Fiora recovered from her wide-eyed shock faster than Sakura did. She gave him a baleful glare, watching helplessly as he spirited her sister away.
He asked carelessly, grinning, "Princess as lovely as a flower, are you so wrought with me that you would not speak?" His smile was light and filled with good cheer.
Sakura's feet had automatically fallen into the music's rhythm and the dance steps came as easily as secondborn nature. Sakura couldn't help but smile back at the Dero's part flirting, part teasing. She noted his ease with talking to strangers (after all, she was one, even if he knew of her) and the slight lilting accent.
"I was but wondering if we have been introduced, my lord," came Sakura's graceful reply. After the years of experience at court, no amount of compliments, however outrageous, could fluster her. Although the receiving of compliments was pleasant, she knew quite well that every one of the flowery words and phrases had a motive or a hidden meaning behind them.
"You are as gifted in words as you are in beauty, if such splendor could be measured," his laughter sounded rich and clear.
"I have been gently reprimanded and questioned. In my line of work, names are freely given. I'll not ask you which of mine you prefer, but you can address me as Dero, little flower," said Dero, smiling ruefully.
There was real warmth in his blue-green eyes, and illogically, his attitude and character were such that Sakura found it hard not to like him. Dero might not be altogether truthful, but rare were such people of true sincerity. Deceit and lies bred well in the treacherous waters of palace life, but honest traits withered and died.
"In cases like these, Fiora would tell you firmly that some flowers have steel-lined petals and would gladly prove it."
The music slowed and stopped, the last note hanging in the air for ten beats and faded away. The dance had ended. Releasing Sakura, the dark-haired Dero bowed and said, "It has been a great honor, but pleasure more so, dancing with one so dazzling and renowned. Perhaps I could give you a better name when we next meet, Princess Sakura."
"Fare you well, man called Dero," Sakura smiled and curtsied in turn.
In the ancient forest not far from the valley outside the city, a ripple spread through the straight but weathered trees, and a low pure note rang through the air. A fresh breeze, carrying the impossible salty tang of the sea mingled with the memory of melted snow and the scent of green saplings, swept through the woods gaily and blades of grass quivered in its wake.
A figure materialized, enshrouded in a cloud of dark green. It flickered once, then twice. The green silhouette grew stronger, and the air around it felt heavy, as if trying to overcome an unseen resistance. Without warning, the green smoke disappeared, and a young man blinked into existence. He staggered a few steps, seemingly disoriented, before he regained his balance. Shaking his head to clear its inner fog, he muttered a complaint absently. Raising his head, he surveyed his surroundings, his eyes thoughtful. Finding what he was looking for, or what he had expected to see, he removed his hand from its position on his sword hilt, and started walking purposefully, not towards the city, but slightly to the east, where the palace waited.
Sighing in relief, Sakura all but collapsed onto the pile of large, soft cushions. She rested her arms on the smooth surface of polished wood, as her tired body sank gratefully into the blessed cushions. Sakura stared up at the high ceiling. It was a mass of light blue swirls against a canvas of white. The swirls did as they were named – they swirled and spun, round and round in front of her eyes, which was very likely the effect of her dizziness and exhaustion. Her feet throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep.
After the Dero had left, what seemed like the entire male aristocracy had seen a chance and grabbed it, mercilessly making her dance one song after another. She could not turn them down without offending this power and that, for she had danced with a Dero, and it was hence mandatory to bestow the same favor upon those of a higher class than he.
A goblet was pressed into her hand, and Sakura looked up to see a noble woman smiling sympathetically. She tried to recall her name, and succeeded.
"Thank you, Wilma," said Sakura, and she raised the goblet to her lips, though only after the brief flash that accompanied the manifestation of a ward against poison none but magic-users could see.
Thankfully, it was water. Not the smooth, sweet and slightly acidic flavor so many savored, but the cool, unnamable taste of clean spring water. The last thing she needed was to aggravate her furious headache with wine. The transparent liquid slid down her throat easily, and to her surprise, the chill of the water refreshed her.
To add to the confusion, there was magic at work an hour ago. The sound it made was barely perceptible, but she heard, and she did not think that the backwash of overusage of strong magic would affect her ability to sense magic. No, it was real, and the magic was strong, to have come through from the forest.
There was movement beside her, and the cushions sank down further as an extra weight was added. Sakura drank it all up, and then placed the silver goblet on top of a table.
"Quit sulking, you," said Sakura teasingly, as she smiled at her sister.
"I'm not sulking," Fiora denied grumpily, though her bottom lip was thrust out in the very expression of a sullen child who'd just been giving a good talking-to.
Laughing, Sakura hugged her, "He was not interested in me that way, Fiora, so stop sulking."
"Really?" Fiora brightened, and added as an afterthought, "I'm not sulking."
"Ask Wilma if you like," said Sakura, indicating to the said person to sit down as well.
The laugh lines sprinkled generously around her depthless eyes deepened as she smiled. Wilma sat down, and the light of the crystals was caught and reflected by the black ebony clip woven through her hair, which was a shade of gray much lighter than that of her eyes.
"Aye, he did not look at her in that way, and he did not make any optimistic references to the future..." Wilma trailed off, and gave the shadows behind them an unreadable look.
A laugh was heard, and at the sound of it, the sisters' eyes widened. Then, Fiora narrowed her eyes and clutched the empty cup she was holding like a weapon. Sakura's face immediately turned stony, and she clasped her hands in front of her lap deliberately, as if to prevent them from moving elsewhere. She would not throttle him. How she wished she could allow Cerberus to do as he wanted – bite him and shake him violently by the collar, before throwing him out, into a ditch preferably in the wilderness, three miles away and shoeless.
Head and elbows plunked themselves rudely between Fiora and Sakura. Sakura resisted the urge to stand up and simply walk away. When she threw a glance at Fiora, she tried not to laugh. Her sister had clamped her jaw down resolutely so as to stop herself from grinding her teeth. Perhaps sensing her humor, Theta spoke to her first, "So, your highness. Looks like your minion has sharp eyes, as old as the head on her is. Perhaps age has not dimmed her senses yet."
"Insults, Theta? I thought better of you," replied Sakura, giving the lanky youth a steely look.
"You'd be surprised at what an old crone like me notices, Theta," said Wilma, intentionally omitting his titles.
He gave her a lopsided smile. He did not miss how Wilma had addressed him. Scrubbing a hand through his sandy curls, he shook his head, and gave Fiora a long stare, "All right, no more of the hostility. I'm not here to cause trouble today."
"Oh?" Fiora shot back, "And isn't that what you always say?"
"As a matter of fact, it isn't," he replied.
Theta got up from his comfortable position and walked around to stand in front of Sakura. He grabbed her hand.
"Sakura, dance with me," he said, dark brown eyes burning into hers.
At another time, she might have consented. However, she was weary and all her previous annoyance at Theta resurfaced like a long-nursed grudge. She opened her mouth to scorn and voice her refusal, and Theta must have read her expression, for he intercepted her.
"Please," he said quietly.
Her voice died, as she stared at him, stunned. In all the time she had known her cousin, he had never asked anything from her. He ordered, demanded, ridiculed, but never had he requested anything from her once. And as she looked at him, really looked, she began to understand a little of his pain.
His elder sister had once been very close to King Zargeth, and many believed she would be queen. But that was before King Zargeth's younger brother, Fujitaka, disappeared, believed to be dead. For after that, King Zargeth had resumed his rejected suit, and finally won Nadeshiko, who had chosen Fujitaka, over. Theta tried to be happy for his aunt, but he had not known her and he grew up with his sister's sorrow. Theta loved his sister, and when King Zargeth took Myrisella as wife after Nadeshiko's death, the conflict became one between Sakura, Fiora, and he.
Seeing Sakura's shock, Theta laughed humorlessly. Sakura flinched at the harsh, bitter sound, but Fiora planted herself between them. Fists on hips, she glared up at Theta, "Sakura belongs to me. You'll not achieve anything, least of all the throne, by this. She will not dance with you."
Theta blinked, then scowled, tightening his grip on Sakura's wrist, "Whether to dance with me or not is Sakura's choice, not yours."
Sakura winced. She knew what would come next. The area erupted in chaos as a shouting match began. As she was jostled around when Fiora and Theta fought over her, another wave of nausea swept across her. She thought giddily, that it was just as well that parties were usually just as noisy.
"Stop," a voice said, "Can you not see that she is feeling unwell?"
Startled into obedience, Theta released her hand. Fiora pursed her lips, not liking the tone of command in the stranger's voice. Dazed, Sakura lifted her head to thank him. A hundred, a thousand icicles plunged into her heart as she stared into the darkness of his ocher eyes. Her soul shuddered and her magic flared up in response, in recognition. She saw him experience a similar reaction, and green magic, deep and powerful blazed up around him. He was the source of the magic in the forest, she realized, then the moment of clarity passed.
Sakura stumbled a few steps forward. The world spun in front of her, as the ceiling of clouds did before. The last thing she saw was Wilma's face creased in worry. Then, she fell. It was such a long way down... and right before she passed into unconsciousness, a name shimmered in her thoughts. All she saw was his eyes, but she recognized him. She knew who the stranger was, and his name was Syaoran.
And thus ends the first chapter of the Battle of the Arch Rivals.
Winged Guardian: So, how do you like it? Comment please.
Semmerie: WHY?! WHY DID YOU DELETE YOUR FIC?
Winged Guardian: Eh, I did explain in the note of discontinuation... (sweatdrops)
Semmerie: (glares)
Winged Guardian: I'll try to insert the element of humor every now and then, but it won't be the main theme now. If you need humorous fics to laugh at and de-stress, try Semm's. I love hers though she needs to be bugged to update. (grins)
Semmerie: Wha??!
UrbanCinderella: WG. You took your own time in updating this.
Winged Guardian: (coughs) Did I? (coughs) (halo appears)
Comments and criticism are much appreciated. Feel free to speak your mind.