Chapter 1: Marked
"Get away, demon boy!"
"You're such a little beast!"
"Don't kill me, you freak!"
"Get out of here!"
Just keep running.
Tree after tree blew past in a green blur and Gaara's feet began to sting with every rushed step. It was effortless, it felt like there were tons of lead strapped to his ankles. What was wrong with me?
Each one of those voices made his brain feel like acid was being poured on it. He felt like his body was giving up on him. His skin burned from the blazing rays of the Suna sun, he felt helpless as flashbacks repainted themselves in his mind and the rest of the world became a blank canvas. It only took moments before darkness took him, yet he heard the faint sounds of small footsteps edging towards him. It was then that Gaara realized he wasn't even running anymore.
"I've finished now." The young redhead said in a low voice as he put down his brush and untied his apron.
"Why Gaara! it's beautiful." His mentor said as she approached the painting he had drawn. It centered a goddess-like woman with a meadow of flowers adorning her. "Who is that there?" The old woman asked.
"My mother." He answered quickly while staring emotionlessly at the canvas.
"Oh." The old woman said, attempting to reinterpret the art. "Your mo-"
"May I go now?" He interrupted. He hated it when people talked about his mother, even just the mention of her. His anguish intensified with every reminder of how his birth swept a beloved woman from all who knew and cherished her. Gaara would prefer to not even hear her name, less he become reminded of how she shall never respond when it is called again.
"Yes you may."
He immediately grabbed his teddy bear from the table near the door and left without another word. The sun was scorching as Gaara walked along the sandstone path to the swings, the feet of his stuffed animal collecting dirt as he dragged it along. There was a small playground near the castle and when the redhead was finished with his studies he would go there to daydream and just be alone. He was always alone.
For a few minutes he just sat on the swing and kicked his feet gently while staring at the sky. When he saw a cloud that looked like the figure of a woman he would wonder if that was what his mother looked like. If he ever saw a pretty flower or fine jewelry, he would think of her and the things she might have liked. The mind of a six-year-old is indeed full of imagination but not always bright with sunshine.
Gaara watched clouds continued to glide along the sky until a small purple ball rolling towards him caught his attention. He stared at it until it stopped at his feet. He had never been able to play with a ball. Somehow others saw it dangerous to ever give him one to play with. He had seen others play with them, even use them as a beacon for companionship. His eyes rose to the group of kids not too far away in the direction it rolled from. He had heard their giggles and bubbly laughter from a distance, but he chose to ignore them.
"Hey sorry about that. Can you-" A brown-haired boy started, stopping as he made eye contact with the redhead. Understanding what he was beginning to ask, Gaara got down from the swing and picked up the ball at his feet. It was rubbery and vibrant. He began to talk small steps toward them with a small grin, hoping it would make him seem friendly.
"This is yours?" He mentally yelled at himself for not being able to muster more than a whisper as he approached them. They should be able to let him play with them, if he was nice enough. The boy took a few steps away from him though.
"Get away, It's beast boy!" The boy said and Gaara's grin sank. They all ran, screaming at the top of their lungs. Their screaming struck chords within his heart.
"Wait!" He begged. "Please! Here's your ball! I promise, I won't ask to play with you!" They wouldn't listen, his words only drove them into further panic. Out of desperation, Gaara manipulated his sand and caught the wrist of a young girl with blonde curls. She tried escaping frantically but the sand had a strong grip. She let out a high-pitched, ear shattering scream that made him cover his ears instantly. His sand immediately released her and as he opened his eyes everyone was still running, their figures growing smaller the further they went.
"He'll kill you!"
"Just run."
"Don't go near him."
He stood there for a while just staring at the ball at his feet. His small shoulders quaked as he sobbed. Gaara balled his hands into fists. Pain, confusion, and anger rang through him. He didn't know what it was but something within him told him to get away and before he knew it the playground was far behind him.
Gaara slowly opened his eyes. His muscles felt as if he had tried to tear open the gates of Suna with his tiny bare hands. The faint scent of honey and lavender creeped along his nostrils. I died? He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the rays of sunlight peeking through the trees. As he turned his face, oceanic green clashed with crystal lavender.
It felt like an eternity had pasted while they just stared at each other. Gaara laid there with a girl looking to be almost his age, perhaps a little younger, leaning over him. She was so small Gaara almost thought she was a toddler. Her hair was dark, almost the color of ink with natural midnight highlights within, it was cut short at her neck. She had porcelain skin that was smooth-looking with a slight pinkish dust at her cheeks. He had never seen anyone with such a complexion, even his skin tone couldn't compare. Gaara just couldn't stop looking at her eyes, they were large and pale, so pale they looked white under such lovely lashes. She was unreal. Like a doll. Compared to everything he had seen so far in his brief life, she looked exotic, strange, and foreign. Is this what all angels look like?
He didn't understand how he could just sit there. His ears could hear the hard pounding of her heart, which was a fast as his. He quickly caught movement from her, and he flinched away as she lifted her arm to his face. He knew what she was doing, he ever let anyone touch there. Anyone who ever touched it hurt him. Well...his uncle did...She can't do anything to bad, right? His thoughts weren't convincing him too well.
Her face flushed; her blush deepened its color. She could see that he was uncomfortable, not making a sound, she lightly patted his arm. For a reason unknown to him, the gesture relaxed his small, tensed body but he remained cautious. She bit her lip and brought her hand to the symbol on his forehead and traced the fine red ink in his skin with her tiny fingertip. Her fingers are soft...
Gaara's breathe caught and he would have gasped if he hadn't been so shocked, he could see the faintest smile make its way to her lips. No one had ever smiled or felt joy around him. The small curve of her lips brought a red tinge to his cheeks. Gaara just kept his eyes on her arm as he tried to focus on concealing the small shadows of color across his cheeks.
Suddenly she jerked her finger back as if something burned her. Oh no she's gonna leave now. Gaara's eyes followed and they both looked at her hand as small markings appeared around her wrist. Tiny kanji symbols appeared around her hand and up her arm. Gaara's eyes widened as he saw the black symbols contaminate her lovely and no longer scarless skin. He immediately looked to her in guilt. She, however, seemed to be in awe then looked to him in wonder.
"I... I'm sorry." He said trying not to move should she feel frightened and run away like the others, not realizing he had broken the silent encounter they were having. He didn't want her to leave, but it made him wonder...where were her wings?
"Um...a-are you o-okay?" She asked in a soft musical voice.
He looked to her in shock, she only shifted closer to him a little.
"You're asking me if I'm ok?... Do people still feel pain after dying?" He raised a brow.
"Well I- w-wait... dying?!"
"Am I not dead?' She shook her head quickly. "You're not an angel?" She blushed but still shook her head. "Are you afraid of me?" She stopped and look at his in confusion but then voiced her answer this time.
"No I-I-I'm not."
"Does that hurt?" He pointed to her arm.
"No I l-like it actually, it's very c-cool. Um...did that hurt?" She said pointing to the kanji on his forehead. He couldn't remember a time when it didn't, from the evening it appeared he had always felt pain. No matter if it was a slight ting or a burning sensation, there was always discomfort. He slowly nodded. "A lot?" He gave a curt nod.
"Oh. My m-mommy always k-kisses the places that h-hurt a lot."
As if foreshadowing her actions, he watched as she moved closer to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. She wouldn't-Before he could finish his thought Gaara felt small surge of heat in the small place, it was only after she distanced herself did, he realize her extremely soft lips had been on his forehead. He could no longer feel pain there...only warmth. When she pulled back her face was anything but pale. Her face matches my hair.
'Uhh..b-better?" She asked nervously. He nodded slightly, still feeling the heat from where her lips rested moments ago. He resisted the urge to touch the spot. "Th-that's good! I uh...saw y-you here on the gr-ground and I w-wanted to help...You were cr-crying."
Gaara stiffened, he realized that he had never wiped away his tears. In fact, he could feel his face begin to itch as the tears began to dry. He was a boy after all, and he had his pride. Scowling at her, he wiped his face frantically. When he was satisfied, he gave her a look of indifference.
"I was not." He huffed. "I'm a boy and boys don't cry." She didn't seem affected by his words at all, she only stared at him. Why is she looking at me like that?
"Why don't they?" He shrugged. He watched the emotions pass through her eyes, those large eyes held no real fear of him. "Um...w-would...you like to...b-be my friend?" Gaara thought he would start crying again. She wanted to be his friend...his friend. He nodded frantically. She blushed but flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. He gave her a confused expression as she got up, only to gaze in shock as she held her hand out to him shyly.
"I'm glad I have a fr-friend with r-rosy hair." He paused for a moment and took hold of her tiny hand, their tiny fingers interlinking. To him, he had always thought his hair color as bloody but she compared it to...a rose. He felt the urge to cry tears of joy.
"I'm Gaara." He said smiling back, trying to look as friendly as he could. The action felt so foreign to him but he liked it.
"That's a nice n-name, who gave it t-to you." She felt her breath hitch as she saw his face fall instantly.
"My mother..."
"Oh. " She shyly rubbed his fingers with her thumb as they walked, not really to sure of where they were going. "Fr-from the way you looked I can guess y-your mom isn't w-with you?" She questioned, and her answer was a curt nod.
"Um...well...uh what's your name? You haven't told me yet." Involuntarily squeezing her hand slightly.
"Oh. M-my name is..."
Gaara awoke with a start.
Damn it. These dreams still wish to haunt me. He thought as he stared at the beams of sunlight threatening to peek through his dark curtains. For the past few weeks that same dream has haunted his mind.
Years passed and he continued to be alienated and feared by his people, the same people he was destined to one day rule over. It was under this strict rule that his kingdom prospered. Though it was not his number one desire, his responsibilities as King are taken seriously. When he's not being cursed with the same dream repeatedly.
Gaara had never seen the girl again. He never got the chance to know her name or probably did and just forgot it over time. He never forgot her though. She merely became a background figure in his mind, an imaginary figure of his salvation that had only existed in his dreams. He really wanted to think that she was just a figment of his imagination but he couldn't have just imagined that. He sighed heavily. I'll have to go see the woman again this afternoon.
Gaara felt movement and heard slight mumbling next to him. He turned to look at the other side of the bed and found it occupied. He stared at the back of a golden-haired demoness next to him as he tried to recall how and why she was in his bed, and naked as it seemed. Just as he lifted to find his body as bare as the day he was born, she shifted and turned to him.
"Such a good morning isn't it, your majesty?' She said greeting him in a squeaky sultry voice that made cold uncomfortable shivers run down his spine. Did I fuck her? What the hell was I thinking?
"It would be better if I did not have to do this so early." He said while running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Huh? what do you-" she looked offended.
"Why is it that I cannot recall meeting you, let alone having any limb of mine inside you?" He said with hateful venom in his voice. When he took women, he made sure that they were of good taste, they obeyed him, and never slept in his bed afterwards.
"Please. Forgive me sire. I just wanted to know what-" Gaara cut off her plea as his long claws sunk into her heart. He sighed in relief.
"Disgusting." He said as he pulled his now bloody black claws from her limp body. He then got up to go to the bathroom and freshen up but paused in his tracks. Oh shit. He quickly went back to the lifeless body and moved her hair to the side and checked her neck. No mark, thank fucking kami. At least in whatever state of mind she put him in, his subconscious knew what not to do. He turned back around in relief and resumed his daily routine.
He walked out of his bedroom passing many bowing slaves on his way to the throne room.
"Ah, G-Good morning my lord." A mildly frightened maiden said with a blush.
"Hn." He answered not even sparing a glance. They fear me yet would not even hesitate to bed me. He tried not to look so frustrated, but it was probably another thing that this beast within him over exaggerates. If he had the ability, he would have felt sorry for her. The girl was the slave that cleaned his room, and he had left quite a mess for her.
He had only been King for about a decade or so and it was already waning on him. Sometimes it would just cause him to explode and he wouldn't exactly handle it properly. He needed to control his temper.
