Author's Note: I do not own any of the characters/locations mentioned; that honor goes to Level 5, Studio Ghibli and Bandai. Just putting that out there in case anybody is hunting the site for copyright infringements...
Yes, I know, it's been a while, and if anything I should be wrapping up the Four Trials. But I just felt compelled to get this put into words! One of the more annoying blanks for me to fill was the fact that after the gang returns from the past and Oliver fixes up Marcassin, he acts all chill with Swaine even though he knows who he is and he hasn't seen him in a ridiculously long time. I felt like "Dude, Marcassin, surely something is going on that you are covering up, right?" There needed to be a conversation between them, just the two of them, so here it is. It was also a chance to touch on Swaine's motivations for refusing to return to his original name even though the secrets were out.
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"Hey, Swaine, is there anything you need to grab before we leave town?" Oliver called to his friend without looking up from his bag. The gang was preparing to head out on their quest to find Kublai after one more night at the Cat's Cradle, so they needed to stock up on food, potions, and other supplies. However, Oliver did not get an answer. "Uh, Swaine?" he looked up from his bag, eyes darting around the room. The man was nowhere to be found.
Confused, he got up to investigate. Swaine was not in the bathroom, or the closet. In fact, he was definitely not under the bed either. Had he gone across the hall to ask the others something? Opening the door to his room, he crossed the hall to where Esther and Drippy were staying, knocking quickly on the door. "Hey Esther, is Swaine over there?"
Footsteps were heard shuffling to the door, and in moments it swung open, revealing Esther's confused face. "Why would he be over here?"
"Well, he's not in our room, and I didn't notice him leave. Where could he be?" Oliver frowned, puzzled.
Drippy bounced to the door. "Oi, Ollie-boy, you expect to hear a thief sneak out? Besides mun, he's in his home town. Probably had business to take care of."
"Yes, secret business, like always," Esther rolled her eyes. "Even though we know everything now, it definitely wouldn't surprise me if he snuck out for some Gascon-related purpose that he didn't want us finding out about." She sighed. "Don't worry about it, he'll be back. Probably as soon as you fall asleep so he doesn't have to answer any questions."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks anyways, guys. Goodnight." They waved to him before latching the door. Oliver wandered back to his room, thoughts wandering. As he entered and moved to pull the door shut behind him, he paused. Instead of locking up, he left the door open a crack. Just in case. Then, he crawled onto his bed, propped himself up, and pulled out his Wizard's Companion for some reading. Hopefully he could stay awake…
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Meanwhile, across town, a stealthy form navigated the streets with the ease that only a Hamelin native could possess. He avoided the main thoroughfares and kept to the dimly lit back alleys on his way to the palace. When he arrived, he stopped, looking up at the monumental edifice which gleamed cold, metallic light from the street lamps. He had had so much on his mind before, both in this time and the past, that he never really stopped to soak in the experience of being back home after so much time. The palace's outward appearance was exactly the same as it had been fifteen years ago, overbearing and austere. Of course, on the inside, this was not at all what he remembered; his father had been dead for years, the soldiers were all wearing that ridiculous pig armor his brother decreed as obligatory dress, and everything within those walls…well, it wasn't meant for him, it was meant for the person he should have been. After everything he had seen in his travels, he now thought to himself that it was a bit strange to have ever called a place like this home.
Snorting, he shook his head and entered through the main gate. The soldiers now knew him as Oliver's companion, and being that Oliver had saved Marcassin from his broken heart, they were quick to let him pass. Hmph, much easier than getting in the last time… He gave a courteous nod to the guards as he breezed past.
Just like the streets of the city, he glided through the hallways easily, as if every passage and corner were etched into his memory. Turn left to get to the dining hall. Further ahead and to the right was the corridor to the servant's quarters. Up the stairs to get to the library. Man, why did he still remember all of this? Focused on his mission, he simply pushed on straight ahead to the giant glass atrium at the center of the palace, and then further back into the royal chambers. Before long he found himself standing outside the prince's bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
"Yes, who is it?" a muffled voice called from beyond the doors.
"It's…Swaine, your Highness."
He could hear Marcassin quickly jump to his feet and rush to the door. They were thrown open at once, revealing the eager face of his younger brother. "I was hoping you would come back, brother!"
He had to smile. It was refreshing to see Marcassin happy again, like his old self. His eyes were fairly glowing with joy, and this made him appear even more like seven-year-old boy he had always kept in his heart. "Well, I do owe you a few words, after all."
"Come in! Can I get you anything to eat? Drink?" He inspected his elder brother from head to toe. "Some new clothes, perhaps? If we don't' have any in your size, I'll have someone tailor a new outfit immediately…"
Swaine held up his hand. "Don't go overboard on me. A seat will do, but that's enough." Marcassin seemed a bit disappointed, but beckoned his brother to enter. As he made his way to the couch, the man's eyes were unconsciously drawn to a certain spot on the floor… The memory made him wince.
Marcassin noticed. "I understand now that the fog has lifted, Gascon. You were there with me when father passed away. I mean, I had my suspicions when I was young, but I now know for certain it was you who came to the past all those years ago."
Swaine's eyebrows shot up. "You mean you figured it out?"
"I may have been only 7 at the time, but I was not stupid, brother. Why else would his death have hit you so hard? Why did you have the same weapon as Gascon? Why did you seem to know how everything would happen and what everyone was feeling as you followed us? I was pretty shaken up so I didn't see it immediately, but upon reflection, it was obvious. Besides…" he looked into his brother's face intently, "even if your appearance changed, I looked into your eyes and I knew who you were. All it took was that afternoon in the courtyard with the revolver and the apple tree..."
Swaine scratched his head, embarrassed, and averted his gaze. "Yeah, I tried, but I couldn't fool Father either. I still don't know if I am glad he knew at the end or if I am completely upset about him seeing the future me." He inhaled deeply, trying to cleanse the bad memories from his head. "So, Marcassin, if you had me figured out, why didn't you say anything?"
"Well, I get that you needed to hide your identity in case it changed the entire timeline," Marcassin replied, beginning to pace. "Going by that alias in the past was a logical choice. Also, it seemed that you didn't want me to know, so I didn't bring it up."
"I see. You were a fair actor, that or I was completely naïve."
"Probably the latter." He smiled, but then the smile disappeared. "But, honestly brother, there is one thing I don't understand: why do you continue with that alias now? I played along when we were all together this afternoon…"
"Thanks for that, by the way," he interrupted. "It was much appreciated."
Marcassin only shook his head. "Why? There is no secret any longer. Oliver, Esther and Drippy all know. I know. What's the point, then?"
Sighing, Swaine collapsed onto a couch and rubbed his forehead. "You just said you weren't stupid. Is it really that hard to figure, Marcassin? I mean, look at me!" He gestured to himself. "I left home to find my path, and look what I became! If anyone overheard us talking and found out that I was the lost prince of Hamelin…can you even imagine the shame I would bring to this family…"
"But Gascon, I love you!" Marcassin exclaimed angrily, taking a stand directly in front of his brother. His normally tranquil features took a stony quality. "Why should it bother me or anyone else around you if you didn't find what you were looking for and came back to us in rags? You did your best and took your own destiny in your own hands, regardless of how it turned out! There is nothing to be ashamed of…"
He squeezed his eyes shut, his words quickening in agitation. "You don't understand, I have everything to be ashamed of, Marcassin! You don't know what I did after I left Hamelin..."
"What are you talking about?"
"This so-called prince turned into a thief! A common criminal! I survived by stealing. I slept on the ground every night, but only when I was able to sleep, which wasn't often because I had to make sure I wasn't being followed by the city watch. I got caught a few times. I have the scars from the lashings to prove it! I couldn't have fallen any lower if I had tried, and all of that was before Shadar even found me and broke my heart." His voice cracked, and he stopped, roughly wiping something from his eye. "I will never understand why he ever bothered to do that; I was broken to begin with and certainly didn't need any help!"
His brother stood wide-eyed and speechless. He knew about the poverty, about the barely scraping by, but this information about being a thief… The thought of the future ruler of a kingdom resorting to lawless acts… The thought of the proud Gascon he remembered resorting to something so underhanded… Suddenly he understood more clearly the burden of guilt his brother bore. He could easily forgive it; it was caused by desperation, not bad intentions, surely! However, Gascon was always stubborn, and would have a much more difficult time letting his mistakes go, especially something as serious as this.
Knowing he couldn't stay for much longer, Swaine rose from his spot on the couch, never breaking eye contact with his brother. "Please Marcassin, don't ever call me Gascon. I don't deserve that name, it's the noble name of a prince. It shouldn't be sullied by being tied to someone like me."
"But…does that mean that you…won't ever…" Tears began to fill the younger brother's eyes. He had just found Gascon again after all this time, but having learned the darker secrets of his past, was he going to lose him just as soon?
Swaine put his hands on his brother's shoulders. "Don't get me wrong. Between the two of us, when no one else can hear, you can always call me 'brother'. That has not and will not change. If you can forgive me for being away for so long and leaving you here alone, I will make sure to do a better job of being here for you from now on."
The Prince threw his arms around him and buried his head against his shoulder. "Like I said all those years ago, there's nothing to forgive. I'm only happy you are back, regardless of whatever you seem to think you've become."
He squeezed him, closing his eyes. "Thank you… As long as I know that, I can keep pushing forward." He then pulled away. "You probably have this figured out by now, but I am going to continue traveling with Oliver on his quest to defeat Shadar. That bastard has a lot to pay for. Besides, I'm no good around here, not the way I am, and as my Emperor, I owe you my services." He broke his embrace and began to walk to the door. Without turning back, he waved. "Maybe if I'm still alive at the end I will have earned my true name back. Take care of yourself, Marcassin, and let me know if you need me. I'll hurry back, I promise."
"Be careful…brother…" Marcassin called softly, trying to hold back tears.
"And you…I know you. Don't lose any sleep over this, okay?" This time, he looked back to double check, sending a warm smile to comfort him. "Oliver will make sure I behave, after all."
Marcassin nodded, forcing his own smile. "Of course, Ga...er, Swaine."
"Good night then, your Highness. We'll report back once we have the stones for Mornstar." With that, he walked out, leaving the young man watching his back as he went.
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He didn't have a key to their room at the Cat's Cradle, and as he climbed the stairs he anticipated having to pick the lock. It wasn't necessary. When he arrived in front of the door to his room, he noticed it had been left ajar. Well, that wasn't safe… He'd have to scold Oliver later. Easing the door open as quietly as possible, he slipped inside and locked up for the night. Only then did he realize he could SEE. The light by Oliver's bed was still on, and the young wizard was sitting upright in bed with his Wizard's Companion open in front of him. He was, however, sound asleep, head nodded to one side and breathing deeply.
"Damn it, Oliver, you didn't have to try and stay up on my account," he whispered to himself, shaking his head but smiling. He had to admit, right now, being Swaine wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Kicking off his shoes and tossing aside his coat, he crawled into bed and extinguished the light.