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The Beginning of the End
Topic Started: Jun 10 2012, 11:01 PM (298 Views)
Marluxia
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Flashes of memory assaulted him in those few moments of time before the impossible happened. He could see his father looking at him from where he sat on his thrown, telling him exactly how things would play out in the end, regardless of who won the final battle in this war. He could hear his words echoing in the room. He could see further back, even, to the time when he was younger, going out into the battlefield for the first time. Hearing his father, the King, telling him his days of learning to play music were over. Telling him he was to be a soldier of their race, a leader of men who would rally their armies and fight to eradicate the strange race known as the Makaiju. They were different, he was told. Monsters.

He could see the moments that had made this battle so important to him. His father praising him for his victories, predicting the end of the war would turn in their favor and that he would be the hero who would carry it out. The hope he saw in the people, in the faces of the soldiers who followed him each time into battle, as they had this very morning. The adoration of the many villagers they had passed on their way to the battlegrounds. The promise of an end to the ceaseless fighting after centuries of struggle. At last, it had come down to an agreement: this battle would be the last. The war was tearing the land apart and threatening the continuation of both races. The winner of this last battle would decide who would be in charge. The fate of both races hung upon that final victory.

And now, it had come. The Makaiju had found impossible numbers to throw at them in this last clash. And one by one, Marluxia's warriors had fallen around him. He, the prince who was destined to have the honor of leading his men to victory and taking his elderly father's place as ruler of his race, finally found himself surrounded by hundreds of Makaiju with no one to stand with him. Against those numbers, he knew he could not win. But, as his father had told him, he would not simply hand over his kingdom to them without a fight. He would choose death in battle at the hands of the multitude of enemies. He would die a legend among his people. Or so he had intended.

The flash of memory ended in black, as one of the Makaiju behind him managed to knock him out cold. And that was the end of the war for Marluxia.

He dreamed of what his father had told him. "Should you lose this battle, either you will be killed, or you will be taken as a slave. You, the only heir, the one hope of our people, will have your fate decided by the enemy. Do not expect the Makaiju to be merciful. Should they take you, then know that you have no place to run to among our people thenceforth. A fallen kingdom will have no sympathy for the Prince who could not save them." He'd gone on to speak of how things would be if he managed to win the battle, but of course it was the forbidding words of defeat that played within his memory until he finally woke in Makaiju hands.

They'd bound his arms tightly behind his back, of course, and disarmed him. And now he was being delivered to the Prince of their people. They informed him that Prince Fiore could 'do with him as he saw fit' which meant that he would be taking orders from this Prince for the rest of his life. And Marluxia would not fight it. He had no place to run should he retaliate or flee. He had no reason to keep living, truth be told, but the enemy had chosen to keep him alive for some reason. A living slave would be a constant reminder to his people, no doubt. He would be seen as the Makaiju's pet. No honor to be found for his race in that. He had been denied an honorable death. He should have expected no less.

Finally the guards marched him into the room in which awaited his new Master. Fiore, they had called him. His green skin, teak hair with pink streaks, and piercing blue eyes were features Marluxia found oddly beautiful in this particular man. He'd found nothing at all soothing about the warriors he had faced in battle. This one, however, appeared different as night to day in comparison. No bloodlust. No hint of animosity. Marluxia's first impression was that this was no monster.. But he kept his composure. Because all Makaiju were indeed monsters. And now he was this creature's pet..
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The war has gone on for far too long-- it had starter long before Fiore had been born. In fact, the war had started long before his father had been born. As a child he'd once asked his father what started the war, but the man didn't even know. He'd fumbled for an answer but he'd come up sort, having no answer to give his son. The young prince had been forced to swallow his curiosity and watch from his window-- truth be told, Fiore had never seen the war. In fact, he'd never left the castle grounds in his entire life. The furthest he'd been was the gardens, but the walls had always protected him-- always. When the young prince was born he'd been very sick-- his immune system had been insubstantial since then and the nurses had told him every day of his life that he would die young, so he could not go outside. "Besides," they'd say, "what do you want with the outside anyways? Don't you know there's a war going on?" The young Makaiju would simply shake his head and go to the window, look out and then turn back to his nanny, "What's war?" he would ask, she'd make a "tsk" sound, shake her head and walk away-- he'd never gotten an answer. Not under he was older, anyways.

At thirteen he'd decided it was time to leave-- but he'd been caught before he made it past the wall. At fifteen he tried again and this time he succeeded-- however, needless to say he didn't like what he saw. The slain bodies of his people as well as another race he'd never seen before-- Heathens, his father had called them but up until now Fiore had never laid eyes upon them. To him, they were all just tragic souls cut down in their prime-- it hurt to see. So for hours he lowered himself onto his knees and sat among the chaos, singing to the fallen soldiers with tears in his eyes. The following morning he'd been found by his father's men and dragged back to the castle, trembling and covered in blood from head to toe. "He just wouldn't stop crying," he heard the maid tell his nanny while standing outside his door; they both assumed he was asleep.

"The war is over," a harsh voice broke through the silence, drawing Fiore's attention away from his studies. "We've captured their prince-- he's yours now." The young Makaiju nodded quietly, knowing it would do him no good to argue. Without even a chance to prepare himself for the sight, a few members of the royal guard carted the pinkette in and dropped him down at the prince's feet.

"Speak," commanded the tallest of the guard, "Tell his highness your name."

"That's not necessary," Fiore piped up finally, waving his hand towards the door, "You may go," he told them, attempting to sound authoritative, but his voice was far too soft. "Leave him to me," he added with a nervous fidget. The three men left, his father leading the pack, leaving him alone with the prisoner. The first thing Fiore did was kneel down to the other man's level and unbind his wrists. "I beg your pardon," mumbled the Makaiju prince, "I hope they didn't rough you up too much." Although he wasn't responsible for the war, he felt terrible about the entire thing-- it was enough to make him sick. "My name is Fiore," said he, tucking a lock of aquamarine hair behind his ear.
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Being roughly thrown at their Prince's feet in no way made Marluxia intend to cooperate. The voice that commanded that he give his name went unanswered as Marluxia clenched his jaw, defiance in every tensed muscle of his body. He was not finished fighting, though he had lost the war. He was not going to just roll over for these creatures and allow them to make him some sniveling cowardly pet. If that was what they expected of him, he would soon get the better of them. He would refuse until they grew so enraged they would finally end his servitude. And then he would have at least a small bit of the honor he had lost. It would be a victory in the eyes of his people. That would be enough.

But the wavering voice of the man now standing over him cut all hope from Marluxia's desperate dreams. Not only did he cut off Marluxia's attempt to disobey, he sent the guards from the room with a voice Marluxia could not bring himself to despise. It was apparent from the way the young man spoke that he was not at all comfortable with his own use of authority.. It sounded almost as if he were afraid to come across that way.. no, as if he just did not have it in him.

Once the others were gone, Fiore knelt to his level and released his arms from their restraints. Marluxia brought his gaze up to meet the other man's for the first time, and was again struck with just how different this one was as compared to every other Makaiju he had come across. This one had a gentleness in him that was foreign even in Marluxia's own people. It was almost like looking at what he himself might have been like, had he not been forced to live a life of combat since turning 14.

He rubbed at his arms for a moment to return his circulation to normal while he gazed at the other man. "I am Marluxia," he returned hesitantly. He expected a trap here. He expected to find that this man had split personalities and would suddenly go into some sort of rage.. No Makaiju could possibly be this mild tempered. It just was not possible after all he had seen of their race. "And no, I am unhurt."
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The Makaiju race were very reserved people-- they kept their emotions hidden behind a careful mask. Although they were very spiritual and artistic people, the war had hardened everyone-- except the Prince, apparently. "Father, this war is pointless-- please, can't we put an end to it?" he'd begged for hours after his expedition to the battlefield, "People are dying! Both sides are going to be hurt-- what can we hope to accomplish by winning?" Although he'd attempted to be the voice of reason, he was unsuccessful. So in the end, the Makaiju had won the war, he supposed-- that's why the other side's fallen prince was kneeling on his floor. "Mar-- Marluxia?" He tilted his head, attempting to sound it out, but found the name to be incredibly difficult to pronounce. "Are you injured?" Judging by the other man's appearance, Fiore assumed he'd just come off the battlefield not long ago.

'Does this mean. . . the war is over?' That thought brought him comfort, but it was short-lived. 'What now?' That was the big question. What now? Fiore tucked a lock of hair behind his ear once again-- it just wouldn't stay in place. The visibly younger boy couldn't help but look Marluxia over with fascination-- he'd never been so close to the other race before. Heathens!, his father called them in his passionate stories of the evils they had committed against Fiore's kingdom and its people. 'They don't look like heathens to me-- he's so lovely. Just look at his hair!'

Fiore was well known for being naive-- he reached out to Marluxia without thinking that there would be consequences. He gently brushed his fingertips through the other man's hair. He felt no hatred or animosity towards the fallen prince-- although he'd been taught to hate their kind, how could he? 'They took Zafeíri! Don't you remember?' Yes, they had wronged him. They'd slaughtered his pair bond in the war, but Fiore could not place the blame upon this man-- the war had taken many lives from both sides. He could not blame Marluxia any more than Marluxia could blame him. "You're lovely," mumbled the Makaiju absently-- the color of Marluxia's skin amazed him-- it was like milk and honey. Fiore drew his hand back and looked down at it-- his own skin was a pale shade of mint green. Then, in a second, his form shifted-- he looked just like one of Marluxia's kind! (An advantage his people had in the war. ) His own skin was the same color, his ears were rounded and his hair was now a short strawberry blonde.
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So now he was an oddity, Marluxia thought as his new Master reached out to touch his hair. The shade of pink was very rare in his own race. Apparently it had once been a sign of pure blood in his family. It was a sign of power. Those with his shade of hair had been powerful magic users in times past. But most of them had, of course, been involved in the fighting. And it stood to reason that they were all but wiped out in the war. The only reason he had it now was that females had been spared the necessity of going to war. Somewhere back in his ancestry, some woman or other with pink hair had passed down her genetics. And although it was a recessive gene, it had randomly shown up once more in Marluxia. Another reason he had been forced into the role of savior of his people. His powers had not aided him nearly enough. The enemy had simply been too strong.

He allowed the other man to essentially pet him. He even endured the comment the other aimed at him about being 'lovely'. He'd heard the word used to describe him often enough, though it had always sent his father into a rage when the women dared to make such a remark. He wanted only masculine terms used to describe Marluxia. But even his name had seemed more delicate to Marluxia than elegant as it had been meant. Such a name had been given to him to set him apart from others, make him instantly recognizable as a member of the royal family. He had not been overly fond of it. But it was his name.

Then the boy before him shifted into a similar form, that of a human being. White skin, normal eyes, blondish hair.. He could have been any one of the soldiers Marluxia had marched into battle with this morning. Any one of his subjects who had given their lives for the cause and been shown no mercy by these monsters..

Marluxia held his tongue, because he was perfectly aware that this prince, for whatever reason, had not joined in the fighting. Had he done so it would have come down to a fight between the two princes for dominance, the future leaders of their races battling for supremacy. Marluxia found that he was glad it had not come to that. He knew he would have won, and his race would now be safe and celebrating. But fighting and killing Fiore would have broken him. He'd only been able to fight for so long because the Makaiju had appeared every bit the monsters his father had claimed. This man.. He was nothing like that.

"That form suits you," he commented softly. "Just as nice as your true form."

He stayed where he was, not at all ready to stand and face this man. Not sure what might scare him, or what was proper for a slave or pet among the Makaiju. Despite having fought them for most of eight years, Marluxia had always been painfully aware that he knew next to nothing about their race, really. Their customs, their traditions and expectations, their lives in general, had been a mystery to him. It seemed that his curiosity would finally be sated at least.

"You can call me Mar," he finally said, looking up at Fiore. "Even my own people have difficulty with my given name at times. 'Mar' will be enough. Or you can rename me, I suppose. That is well within your right." Might take some getting used to, he knew. If they gave him some Makaiju name he was sure he was going to have difficulty with it. But at least the young prince would be able to pronounce it.
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The Makaiju prince was amazed at the appearance of the other-- his hair was soft, though Fiore's was softer, and he had such strong features, opposed to the delicate ones that defined the floral man. "Thank you," he mumbled, a bit of color finding its way into his cheeks.

"Within my right?" Fiore parroted back, questioning. Apparently he was unfamiliar with the concept of slavery. The idea of taking someone's name from them was simply appalling, and didn't appeal to the Makaiju prince at all. "No, I shall call you Mar," he concluded with a nod, then finally stood up and reached a hand down to help the other man up off the floor. "Come on, let's get you set up with a room." Once Marluxia was on his feet he lead him out the door and down the long corridor to where his own bedroom was, deciding to give him the room right across from it. "And then," Fiore glanced back over his shoulder at Marluxia, "I'll take you down to the garden and introduce you to The Tree." A fact about the Makaiju race-- they were a strange hybrid between plant and human. Many of their kind, including Fiore, were born directly from the tree. His "father" was not directly his father, but they took him in as their son because his wife was unable to bear children. However, those born directly from The Tree were considered pure beings. There was nothing more sacred to the Makaiju race than their garden and their Tree. It was the root of their existence as well as their source of energy.

"I think you will like it here, Mar-lu-xia," Yet again, Fiore made an effort to pronounce it, though his tongue couldn't quite make the right sound. He ran his fingers through his peregrine hair, toying with the soft tresses. "The war is over-- and now the healing process may begin-- for both of us." He offered a small smile to the pinkette. The prince was awkwardly talkative-- he never had anyone to talk to, so he took full advantage of his opportunity. "I have to go down to the marketplace later-- will you be joining me?" The marketplace was the Bohemian heart of their culture-- artists would go there to show off their work, as well as musicians, dancers and other types of performers. The marketplace was within the castle grounds and heavily guarded, so it was dubbed "safe" for the prince to go there. It was his second favourite place to be-- the first being the garden, of course.

Fiore bit his lower lip and pushed open the door, "This will be your room." With a flourish he waved his arm, showing off the room. There was a canopy bed, a desk, chair, wardrobe and a large bay window; this room was slightly smaller than Fiore's, but not by much. Truthfully, Fiore would very likely spend most of his time right at Marluxia's heels, so the size of the space wouldn't matter. He did not intend to treat the pinkette as a slave, but more or less like he would have treated Zafeíri-- like a best friend. Except, he hoped that Marluxia wouldn't be quite so. . . cold.
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The offered hand took Marluxia a little by surprise. Enough so that he stared at it as though it were a foreign object of which he did not quite understand the purpose. But he only hesitated slightly before taking the younger man's hand and standing without much trouble. He did not need the Makaiju's help, but the gesture had been noted.

There was so much that the young prince chose to say that made absolutely no sense to Marluxia. He was to be given his own room? He would have thought they would lock him away when unneeded to prevent him seeking to take this young man's life or end his own. And mention of being introduced to a tree was far too strange to comprehend, honestly. Fiore again made an attempt at speaking his name, and Marluxia had to wonder if this boy was a little... eccentric. He seemed very interested in humans where others of his race could care less about them. Fiore seemed to be trying to learn more about them to the point of trying to understand their names. Somewhat the same curiosity Marluxia had always held for Fiore's people. He'd learned the names of some of those he'd faced in battle, in fact, and could now somewhat pronounce them, provided he actually heard the name spoken aloud anyway.

He spoke of a 'healing process' that could now take place with the defeat of Marluxia's people, and Marluxia somewhat took that the wrong way. He understood it to mean that now the rightful race would rule over the land. "I suppose.." he said quietly. He still had no idea what would happen to his own race now. His father had insisted that the Makaiju were monsters who would wipe them all out, but Marluxia did not believe that for a moment. If the Makaiju attacked again, the war would only resume. He suspected that they might treat his people unfairly perhaps, or make them into little more than slaves themselves. Who really knew? ...certainly not the gentle soul standing before him now, he realized. Fiore seemed to think differently than the Makaiju Marluxia had met. They had no respect for his own people, and he doubted they saw them as anything more than animals.

Fiore, in the midst of his ponderings, was asking him if he would join him in a trip to the marketplace later. Marluxia looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Of course I will be accompanying you, Prince Fiore.." After all, what choice had he in the matter? The entire reason for him becoming a slave was to be bound to this man, was it not? He was supposed to play the role of slave or pet or whatever they viewed him as in this place. Fiore was the only one who seemed to have difficulty with the idea.

And then he was shown the room which Fiore had mentioned would be his. And Marluxia looked it over with wide eyes. No wonder his people were considered savages by the Makaiju.. If this was the type of housing they had for even their slaves... Hell, his own rooms in his father's palace had been smaller, darker, and much less decorative than this was. This room.. the like of it was unknown to Marluxia's people. Admittedly they were not a people of beauty any longer. Not since the war had begun so long ago..

He turned to look directly at Fiore, confusion evident in his gaze.

"I do not understand.. Do you realize that had you been taken as a slave to me, had the war ended in our favor and not yours, you would not be receiving any such treatment? Do you not understand how terribly you would have suffered?" He was feeling such guilt now, for his entire race, for the reality of what he knew would have been Fiore's fate had their roles been reversed. "Fiore.. Even had we treated you as kindly as you have treated me thus far, I am almost sure you would have died.. How can you have any pity for me?"

How was it possible that this man was able to overlook so much? Marluxia was the enemy. And his people had done so much harm to the Makaiju.. Marluxia felt certain this entire war was the fault of his own people, so long ago that no one could remember. Had they been jealous of the Makaiju perhaps? Probably. But the simple fact of the matter was that Fiore was treating him with respect and care, and Marluxia knew that, even though he would have felt sorry for Fiore, he would have used him as a symbol of his victory. Fiore would have been so unhappy even at Marluxia's best treatment, it would have slowly killed the man. And that knowledge was tormenting Marluxia now.

"We really were the monsters.." he whispered to himself. "We really are. And I, most of all." His father would have killed him himself had he been there to witness Marluxia speaking those words. Had he seen the tears his son had always been forbidden to cry sliding down from his eyes. Oh god, how terribly things would have ended up had he won the war.. How wrong.
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"I do not understand.. Do you realize that had you been taken as a slave to me, had the war ended in our favor and not yours, you would not be receiving any such treatment? Do you not understand how terribly you would have suffered? Fiore.. Even had we treated you as kindly as you have treated me thus far, I am almost sure you would have died.. How can you have any pity for me?"

Truthfully, Fiore did not understand. He gazed back at his guest with utter confusion-- he cocked his head to the side and frowned, "You think that matters to me?" Once more, he brushed his hair ( now strawberry blonde and shorter ) back, tucking a stray lock behind his ear as he continued to find the right words to explain. "Do you think any of this matters to me? I am against this war, and now that it is over. . . we can begin to work towards peace. Look at me," he gestured to himself, "And take a look at yourself. What differences do you see? --I see none. Your heart beats just as mine does-- my father calls you heathens, but I do not believe it to be true. You'll see that we're not monsters." Fiore turned his back to Marluxia, "I don't pity you. I feel empathy for you. . . or do you not understand compassion?"

The Makaiju prince placed both hands over his chest, "I will show mercy to your people and I hope to establish peace, Mar-lu-xia," he told him, looking over his shoulder at him, noticing the tears immediately. He reached out and brushed them away with his delicate fingertips. "I don't care who or what started this pointless war, but I will not allow those lives," Zafeíri's life, "to have been taken in vain. I want nothing more than peace."

Some might have considered Fiore a foolish idealist with childish dreams of feigned peace-- however, he did not believe this to be true.

"There really is no reason for this segregation-- why are we divided into two kingdoms? Why can't we just be one?" He shook his head and sighed, "I just don't understand-- perhaps I am not fit to be a ruler, but I refuse to look at you or your kind as a lesser being-- you are here because I need your help." Fiore reached out and took hold of Marluxia's hand, holding it to his chest, "I want our people to live in peace-- help me unite them. If you. . . don't want to," he looked down, "If you don't want to, you're free to leave." The younger boy lifted his gaze, his misty blue eyes meeting the other's, "This war has taken my betrothed from me-- I will not let his death be meaningless."

A pent-up sigh fell from his lips and he let go of Marluxia's hand and stepped back, suddenly incredibly unsure of himself-- thinking of Zafeíri caused tears to build up in the corners of his eyes. 'What do I do, Zafey? Help me.' However, no matter how he begged. . . he never received an answer. He always just felt so. . . alone.

'I cannot rule this land on my own-- I can't. I will not lead my people into another generation of war-- I won't do it!'

"This world is ours," mumbled the Makaiju, "I want to make things better."
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...could he be serious? Marluxia stared at Fiore for a while, just trying to understand. This talk of peace, of uniting their people... It was so unbelievable. It could never work.. How could he imagine it would? Their people feared and hated one another. The war was finally over, and now it almost sounded like this prince was going to jeopardize that victory by insisting on uniting two races which had only just been murdering each other with no remorse. Marluxia shook his head. It wouldn't work. Fiore was going to see that, eventually. And Marluxia realized just how hard he was going to take it. Dreams and ideals.. They just were not enough if you were the only one to believe in them.

"You see no difference between my kind and yours?" Marluxa took a step toward Fiore, "My race certainly sees a difference. We live differently. We may even think differently. If you and your people show mercy, my race is going to think you have turned soft. They will challenge you again and the fighting will resume. More will die, Fiore. You are right.. You do not understand." He shook his head. "You have no way to understand my people. You've had no window into our lives, and we have had no way to know yours. That, perhaps, has been the entire problem between us for so long.."

He moved closer, however, and placed a hand gently upon Fiore's shoulder, a friendly gesture. Marluxia was now of the opinion that the young man was anything but the monster he had assumed. He had nothing else to believe in anyway. He could afford to at least make an attempt here. "If you send me back, you are sentencing me to my death. My people will not forgive me for letting them down. But.. perhaps you are right. You need my help. You need me. If you wish to bring about true peace, you will need insight into the way my people think. And I agree with you.. I want, more than anything, for a true peace to be attainable, Fiore. If there is a chance then I will take it. But also I am going to help you avoid accidentally inciting another war. Perhaps we truly can make things better.. the two of us."

He had no idea whether it could actually work out that way. But nothing was ever gained without an attempt. And Fiore was the only person of either race Marluxia had ever known to be willing to try. He felt he owed him a lot. He felt that just knowing what he would have inflicted on this gentle man made him guilty of it. And he wanted so much to amend that wrong, to make certain that it never happened to anyone else of either race. He wanted to believe in Fiore's ideals. Even if it turned out to be only a fool's dream, it was better than doing nothing. It was a step in the right direction.
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For perhaps the first time in his life, Fiore emitted a certain nobility-- the kind only a Prince could have as he stood proudly and declared, "All I want is a chance to try. That is why I am welcoming you into my castle as a guest instead of a slave. You will walk amongst my people as if you were one of us. You will see us as we truly are, without the haze of war to cloud your perception. I hope some day I will be able to do the same with your people." It was evident that the Makaiju prince was not much of a prince, at least by the set standards, but perhaps it was simply his everlasting devotion to his people that made him worthy of the job. "I am willing to make any sacrifice to ensure there is no more pointless bloodshed."

The younger man shook his head and turned away from the pinkette, "You should. . . get cleaned up. You'll want to look your best," he told him with a small smile, "My people appreciate attention to detail and cleanliness." With that, he left the older man to settle into his room as he retired to his own to clean up for his visit to Market as well as The Tree. "Oh, you'll find clothing in the wardrobe," he called behind him before closing his door for privacy. Fiore hoped that his trust would not be taken advantage of-- after all, he was risking quite a bit-- his own life, even, by letting someone who was considered the enemy this close. His father would have his hide if he knew of this.

'Please help me, Zafeíri. Please. I can't do this on my own-- I have to trust him-- I have to.'

Fiore freshened up in the bathing room then pulled on a new change of clothes-- all of his clothes were fairly dressy, definitely suited for a charming Prince-- especially a delicate flower like Fiore. He wore mostly dark colors with golden trim and jewelry to match, all things that accented his look. He wore too dangling gold earrings and a long sapphire cape-- he didn't particularly like wearing the cape, but it was a royal necessity, his father insisted. Once he was primed and pretty ( toning it down as much as his image would allow ) he claimed a rose from the vase and left he room, headed across the corridor to check on his guest. He tapped twice, lightly, looked down the hall, left, right, then spoke up. "M-Mar-Marluxia?" He finally got it right! With much difficulty, he forced himself to say it correctly. "Marluxia, are you ready?" Unused to being around others, he decided not to wait for an answer and pushed open the door.

"I brought you a present," he called out, looking around-- while dressed up as much as he was, he really did look like a child, and far too over-dressed.
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Marluxia watched the other prince leave, feeling as though he were already letting this new Master down. And that bothered him, actually. He knew it was due to Fiore having turned out to be so very... un-Makaiju, he supposed. Certainly no monster would behave or speak thus. And he had no reason for deception that Marluxia could see, unless the young Makaiju simply wanted Marluxia's aid in having the losing race accept their fate willingly.. but even that, he could deal with. His race had lost, and as his own father had said, they would now be at the mercy of the Makaiju. Even the smallest child understood that.

But Fiore's notions were not going to work for Marluxia, regardless of whether he truly meant them or not. He was no guest here. There was no way around that. Fiore may treat him as such as much as possible, but he doubted any other Makaiju would simply accept his presence here and allow him to walk among them as if he belonged there. He would walk amongst Fiore's people, but not as one of them. He would never be Makaiju. Would never be accepted as one of them. But he had every intention of seeing them as they truly were, of learning everything he could about them and giving his very best effort in negotiating some sort of peace between them and his own people. Some sort of future for the humans that would not leave them mistreated as much as they had feared. It was the only thing he could do for them now.

So he turned his attention to doing as his Master had bidden him and cleaning up. Years of war had certainly brought Marluxia's appearance down. His hair was most noticeable, of course. It had been cut much shorter than he liked just to keep it out of the way and given minimal effort to. It had once been long and soft, but now it was rough and strange to him. If allowed, he was going to allow it to grow out again. Had he been in the Castle rather than constantly at war, it would have been quite pretty. As it was, it only served as a symbol of his station, a marker of his identity. Any of his own race, regardless of whether they had seen him before, would know in a glance exactly who he was.

All musings aside, Marluxia began the arduous task of cleaning up. He'd only just come from the battle that had supposedly decided the fate of his people. He was quite rough in appearance, to say the least. But Marluxia was no stranger to leaving battle and reentering society in the same day. He'd had to appear before his father several times after victories in the field, and this procedure was exactly the same: wash the signs of battle from his skin as much as possible, clean his hair from the sooty greyish-pink it currently was to the bright, vibrant color it was supposed to be. Tend his wounds and render them invisible and unnoticeable once more beneath clothing..

The clothing given to him was strange.. Makaiju clothes were oddly decorative, but subdued in a way. Ornate, but in colors that his own people would have avoided. His father wore bright red quite a lot, and the Ladies of the court preferred pinks brighter than his own hair. The Lords claimed anything bright enough to set them apart from others. It was a contest to garner the most attention. A custom that Marluxia had silently thought garish. He'd normally taken the color of black in order to stay clear of that contest. But that had just set him apart, a dark void in a sea of colors, save for his hair. He supposed fading into the background just was not what he was made for.

He chose black once more, though it had silver trim in the design. It would be fairly plain here, in all actuality, but among his own people it would look very much like something royalty would insist upon claiming. He shook his head at his reflection. He was back to being himself, almost. Only the length of his hair was wrong. He could scarcely believe that the man he now gazed at had been to battle only this morning..

Fully dressed and cleaned now, Marluxia sat on the bed to await his Master's--Prince Fiore's, arrival. He supposed he would have to remember that the Prince was still attempting to view him as a guest here, not the slave Marluxia still felt himself to be. He would have to be careful.

Not long after, a knock came to the door, bringing Marluxia to his feet. He nearly smiled as the Prince finally managed to get his name right, but he did not have time to either answer or reach the door before it opened. Fiore looked every bit the Prince he was in that outfit, at least to Marluxia. Young, very young.. But he supposed he himself would look younger than his years had he been spared the hardship of war..

"A gift?" he managed, taking the offered rose and gazing down at it. He had not seen a flower in years, to be honest. Not since he had been forbidden to approach the garden at home.. He gently stroked the soft petals and took in the intoxicating strong scent of the rose, memories just as strong in his mind, and he smiled. "Thank you, Fiore.." He meant those words. The Prince could not know how truly precious that gift was to him. He tucked the stem of the flower, thorns and all, into the open high-collar of his shirt, letting it rest against his skin with the head of the flower peaking out. He already had plans for this gift.

"Yes, I am ready when you are. Fiore."
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'He cleans up well. . .' The Makaiju looked him over with a smile, then nodded and presented the rose, delighted that the other man seemed to like his gift. The scent that naturally wafted from Fiore grew stronger, sweeter, as it shifted with his mood. "This is nothing close to what you'll see in the Garden," assured the younger man, his voice even softer than usual. His eyes lingered on Marluxia's form, studying the clothes he'd chosen-- they were rather nice on him, but shockingly similar to the ones his pair bond had worn. 'Don't think about that.' The charming prince, who had shifted into his natural form, tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, then turned towards the door, "Lets go then-- there is still so much to be done."

--

The castle was rather large and extravagantly decorated-- tapestries and art hung from the walls, lining each corridor. Fiore lead his guest down a long staircase, then out a side door to a small patio and garden area, "Stay close." The castle was so much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside-- not that it ever looked small. The Garden took up most of the castle, and right in the center, just barely seen off in the distance sat a very large tree with sloping branches and heavy leaves-- it looked strikingly similar to a weeping willow, though the park carried a purplish hue, the leaves were a mixture of darker purple and blue. The Garden was grand, with beautiful blossoms of every color, shape, size and scent-- however, they all paled in comparison to the roses, which lined the gates around the Tree. Not to mention the people paying tribute to the Tree-- they were flowers of a different genus entirely. Undeniably, the Makaiju were beautiful. ( Off the battlefield and on. ) Most of the women had fair pink hair with blue highlights on either side of their face-- an inversion of the male's colors. There were very few that broke the color code-- a few women with dark blue hair, or almost white-- a few men with light salmon or green, even. However, those were exceptionally rare.

"Welcome home," chimed a women who approached Fiore-- he stiffened when she came close and even more so when she cupped his face and pressed her lips to his forehead. All the Makaiju looked young-- they never really looked old, but it was easy to tell this woman was a mother-- someone's mother, but not Fiore's.

"Thank you, ma'am. I've brought a friend with me-- please welcome Marluxia," with a flourish he gestured towards the pinkette, a tired smile adorned on his lips. "He'll be staying with us for quite some time."

She gave him a look, brushed the bangs from her face and studied him with her magenta eyes, "Welcome to the Garden," she said softly, attempting to sound friendly, but she was obviously very tense. The women gave Fiore a look, then ushered on past them.

Fiore leaned over, "Don't mind her." He knew this would do little to soothe the other man, but he hoped the other would heed the words anyways. 'Why did we have to run into her, of all people. . .' Bad luck seemed to follow him.

--

They made it to the gates-- the monstrous Tree stood proudly, just beyond them. Just out of reach. It must have been at least a hundred-- no, two hundred! --feet tall. Two men took the lead and opened the gates for them, allowing them entrance. "Watch your step," Fiore warned as he let out a sigh. 'Here we go. . .' They approached slowly-- the young Prince almost seemed to be stalling. As they got close, the Tree gave off a faint glow-- all the other Makaiju had vanished from the area, minus the two guarding the gates, but their backs were turned. Fiore lifted one fair hand and placed it against the bark of the Tree and let out a sigh. --The Tree was their life source-- it gave them energy as well as healing their wounds, mostly. After a moment, he turned back to Marluxia, took his hand, and placed it against the trunk as well. --It would feel warm, especially to a human. The life force could be felt surging through its wood, "This Tree is sacred," he explained quietly, "Without it. . . we would all die."
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The garden struck Marluxia speechless as he followed behind Fiore. The garden at his own home had been the most grand known to his people, but it was only a fraction of the size and beauty of this one. He could barely remember it, though. Since he had turned eight Marluxia had not had so much as a view of his own garden from a window. He'd been forbidden to even look at it. His own fault, but how he had missed being so near to plant-life.. He could suddenly feel the live all around him. His element. His power.

But he said nothing, and attempted to keep himself from reacting, as he followed Fiore through the paradise and toward the giant, purplish tree in the distance. He had the pleasure of finding out where the beautiful rose now tucked into his shirt had come from, and he decided to make a point of getting a closer look at them later. The air around them felt sweeter, cleaner than anywhere else. The memories surrounding them were even more so. But he hadn't the time to stop as he followed Fiore through the gates.

His musings were mostly on the Makaiju, though. He had picked up on the color pattern there, and he was silently disturbed. The females here tended to have hair resembling his own in color while the men usually looked similar to Fiore. That slightly annoyed him, deep down. His hair had always been a subject of gossip, and although it was almost legendary and a mark of one of true power, it still gained him quite a bit of teasing and many half-hushed remarks on the question of his gender. Now that he thought of it, there had not been a male descendant with pink hair for several thousand years now. That was not helping his image, he supposed. Not that it mattered now.

He tried not to react when they met a woman who obviously set Fiore on edge. And the way she looked at him, Marluxia could not respond to her. He knew that she was being... polite, in respect to Fiore. But her reaction was exactly as he had expected. And Marluxia suppressed a sigh. He was the monster, here amongst the nightmares of his race. Such a backwards Wonderland. He wondered if he would grow used to it, or if he would always feel this amount of sadness and shame. But he hid all emotion and let Fiore believe him unaffected. They moved on.

And finally they came to the Tree itself. Marluxia gazed up at it for a moment, taking in the full size of it before he approached with Fiore. He could feel so much life within this tree, it was unreal. And then Fiore took his hand and placed it on the bark, telling him that the Makaiju depended on this tree.. That without it, they would die..

Maluxia snatched his hand away instantly from the heat and flowing life he felt beneath his palm and backed away from it as if the tree might lift its roots and squash him then and there. His gaze snapped onto Fiore, and he did his best to soften his expression lest the glare he wanted to aim at the man show through.

"Why..?" He glanced up at the tree once more, struggling to understand. "Why would you trust me with this?" He already knew, somewhat. Fiore had no clue.. what Marluxia could have done to this tree with a simple touch. He did not know what Marluxia was capable of. In fact, now knowing that their entire race depended upon the life of this tree, Marluxia was very glad indeed that the Makaiju knew nothing of his powers. If they did, they would never have risked allowing him to live. He would have been sought after in every battle, the entire Makaiju force he faced intent only on his life alone, so much was his ability to end them here and now. And they had just allowed him to lay a hand on this tree..

His father's voice was commanding, pleading, threatening him in his mind to do it. His only chance, it said. This was his one and only chance to end the Makaiju, once and for all. Any of his people would have done it, because even should he back away now, they would kill him very soon. Just as soon as they realized what he was.. And he could not hide that information forever. Just a matter of time.

But Marluxia shook his head and turned away from the tree. He could not tell Fiore that he could stop the flow of life within this great tree with only a touch. He was sparring the Makaiju race a terrible death, even knowing that they would not return that gesture again. He did it for Fiore, who had been so trusting and so merciful to a human slave.. Only for that kindness, which he could never repay save in this way. But he still hesitated to tell the Prince of it.

"Prince Fiore.. I have no business near this tree. Take me away from it, now.. This is not something you should have trusted me with."
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Needless to say, Fiore was a bit startled when Marluxia wrenched away-- he faltered, stumbled, and lost his balance, but he righted himself quickly. "Marluxia," he tried to be serious but. . . instead, he laughed. It was a bubbling laughter that built in his chest and brought an unusual smile to the Prince's face. "Believe me when I tell you that we have nothing to worry about-- if you are to walk among my people, you need a blessing first. Please, come here," He calmed himself down but the smile didn't leave his lips-- it was clear he knew something that Marluxia did not. ( As if that was much of a surprise. ) He approached the pinkette and took his hand again, leading him back to the tree. "I have already given you my trust-- should you choose to betray that trust," Fiore looked over at him, "I will forgive you." He then turned back to face the tree, and still holding the other man's hand in his, he held it against the tree. "The children of my people call this Tree, The Wishing Tree. Everyone comes here to pray," he explained, "There are rumors that the souls of our kind return to its branches to be reborn into the next generation."

A wind moved through the branches and brought with it a warm breeze that smelled of the sea, despite that the nearest ocean was a great distance away-- however, if one climbed to the top of the tree, they would see the grey line of water on the horizon. "Do you feel the life surging within?" He then took Marluxia's hand and placed it over is own heart. "Now feel my heart," they beat in sync, The energy within the tree was the exact same energy that animated everything living thing-- not just the Makaiju race. "This tree does not simply supply us with energy, but rather. . . this land as a whole." The Makaiju locked eyes with Marluxia, "If this tree were to die, all trees, all flowers and even the grass would die. This Tree, is the Tree of Life."

It was a lot to take in, no doubt.

"Everything is connected, the grass, the trees, the sun, the sea. . . even you and I." Fiore tried to sum up their beliefs as briefly as possible, hoping that Marluxia would understand. It took a moment for the younger man to realize he was still holding the other prince's hand, almost cradling it against his chest-- he let go quickly and looked away, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Yes, well. . . I- I think we're done here." He turned away, quickly, then paused and added, "You are free to come here any time you wish-- the Garden is a sacred area. There is to be no violence here, ever. Anyone caught disobeying that rule will be quieted immediately-- it is not something my people will take lightly, even with your presence. This is a sanctuary."

Without waiting to gauge Marluxia's reaction, he exited through the iron rose-and-ivy-covered gates, drew in a deep breath, then headed in the general direction of the marketplace-- music could be heard even from this distance; it was harmonious, accompanied by a heavenly chorus-- their land really was something akin to a utopia.

But perhaps the darker secrets were simply. . . hidden away.

"Ευχαριστούμε αυτόν τον όμορφο τόπο - το δέντρο, που μας στηρίζει. Δίνουμε ευχαριστίες στους στρατιώτες μας, οι οποίοι έχουν αγωνιστεί με την ουράνια χάρη. Αρχοντιά τους λάμπει μέσα. Όμορφη, όμορφη! Πρίγκιπα μας που μας προστατεύει, ο ήλιος, ο ουρανός, η θάλασσα! Όμορφη, όμορφη! Είμαστε ευγνώμονες."

The chorus sang out, right in front of the market entrance by a small pond, all adorned in white and gold robes. Fiore took a moment to enjoy their song-- he let his eyes flutter closed and took in a deep breath, then sighed. There as something that always comforted him when listening to them.

--

"Zafey! Can I be in the chorus, too? --Can I? --Can I?" The young prince, no older than eight, tugged at the older boy's sleeve, pleading for an answer with that hopeful smile on his face.

Zafeíri, who was just entering his teens, had to be the bearer of bad news. "No, Fiore. A Prince can not be in the holy chorus."

The smaller boy stopped, frowned, and tilted his head. "Why is that?" He had always been naive, always asking questions, challenging the way everything worked. "Why" had always been his favourite word. The older boy simply shook his head in annoyance, took Fiore's hand and lead him into the market, not in the mood to deal with his questions. He did not want to be the one to crush the poor boy's dreams. "Is it because I'm sick?"

"No."

"Then why--"

"That's enough questions for now."

The child looked up, lower lip pushed out into a pout, but he simply nodded and fell into a sullen silence.


--

'Wake up!' Fiore shook his head, pushing the memories back and turned to locate Marluxia, still a bit dazed. "Are you coming?" He gave a reassuring smile, but when he looked as nervous as he did, it was nearly impossible to have the right effect. "The people await!" The floral Prince took Marluxia's hand once more and lead him into the market-- the very heart of the Bohemian world for the Makaiju. The music, the busting bodies, the art, the crafts, the artisan work being sold-- everything was full of color and creativity.

"Don't be afraid to talk to anyone," he whispered to the human, who would be unfamiliar with their way of interaction. "If you appear uneasy, they will be too. If you carry yourself as if you belong here, they'll accept you more easily. --I know, easier said than done, but please try." Fiore paused, then added, "For me?"
Edited by Fiore, Jun 20 2012, 02:32 PM.
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Marluxia was unsure of why he allowed himself to be led back to that accursed tree. He simply did not seem able to refuse as his hand was taken and placed once more against the bark of the one thing he should never have been allowed to touch. But Fiore was right. He could feel the energy. Possibly not the same energy as Fiore.. He felt this sort of life only from plants, from trees and flowers and grass, and a bit in the Makaiju themselves. He felt nothing of it in himself, nor in his people. But something in him must be the same, somewhere.. How else was he to explain his powers?

He calmed himself, as he was unable to turn away again, by remembering that as far as his powers went, he gave life. He did not end it, as his father had once suggested he do. 'Drain the Makaiju lands! Take away everything they depend on! You must stop the flow of life in the plants within their domain, starve them out and end them! This is to be your victory, Marluxia!' Of course, he had explained to his father that no matter how strong his powers grew he could never manage to turn the Makaiju lands into a barren wasteland. That was not possible. He could not even diminish enough of the plant-life there for them to notice. 'Then what use are your powers at all?!' But secretly, it was due more to his own unwillingness, his dislike of killing even the weeds within even their own garden, that held him back from even trying. And he was no different now.

It was just as well. Had he been more like his father, he would have attempted to kill this great tree, and the world might have suffered for it, if Fiore's words were to be believed. His father still would have taken the chance, he knew. And would curse him for not making the attempt. But that was the difference between himself and the old man. Marluxia did not like to take unnecessary risks.

His thought were stalled on old memories and doubts, so he did not quite notice that his hand was still against his Master's chest, being held there by the Makaiju, until Fiore suddenly released his hold and, with an assurance, or a warning perhaps, made a hasty exit from the foot of the gigantic tree. Marluxia noticed the flustered nature of the departure, but he tried not to think on it too much. It must be strange for Fiore.. pinning his hopes on a human slave, the monster that had been partially responsible for the bloodshed, possibly even for the death of his.. what did he call it? ....pair bond? ...god, he hoped not..

With that thought weighing heavily on his mind, Marluxia followed Fiore at a slower pace. But when he passed through the gates and came to the roses he had seen earlier, Marluxia could not help but pause. He approached them and took in the essence or the flower he most missed. And then, making certain that no one was looking his way, he knelt next to them swiftly and pulled out the rose Fiore had given him earlier.

"Grow.." he whispered to the bloom. And instantly it heeded his command. The head of the flower doubled in size, petals filling out to their fullest potential, color deepening. The green of the stem darkened, the leaves and thorns expanding, and the severed end of the stem where it had been taken from the bush mended, ending in tiny roots that were lengthening even as Marluxia touched it to the soil beside its brethren. The roots snaked their way into the earth, and in an instant the flower was holding itself erect. It grew taller from there, taking its place as a young rose bush, already with its first bloom displayed proudly. It would have been a shame to simply watch that gift wither and die in his room.. Marluxia felt it was special, and it deserved to thrive.

With a final stroke to its petals, Marluxia left the bush to grow at a normal speed from there on and headed off after Fiore.

He reached the other just as the man seemed to come out of a deep thought and began to look for him. Marluxia supposed he had not been missed, then, and so much the better. He was supposed to stick by Fiore's side. The Prince asked if he was coming, and Marluxia nearly answered, except that his hand was suddenly seized once more and he was being lead, whether he was coming or not, toward the market. He smiled slightly. He was beginning to notice that Fiore was slightly impatient sometimes, as he had been earlier in entering Marluxia's room. Not that Marluxia minded. He found it oddly endearing, truthfully. There was just something about the way this one acted that made Marluxia almost feel at home around him. As if he actually had the brother or cousin he'd always longed for when he was younger. The best friend he had always complained that he never had a chance to make.

The market was nothing like the ones back home, but that failed to surprise Marluxia this time. He'd rather expected it. Market at home meant a gathering of people selling products that most people could not live without. Food, materials for making clothing, everyday items like rope and pots and soap. But never the things he saw most prominently on display here.. He'd never seen a painting or statue or any sort of artwork, except for those deemed as useful, on display in his own markets. Occasionally there would be small decorative boxes meant for holding treasured items such as wedding rings, or glasses and cups which could be decorated with a loved one's name for a small fee. Once in a while there were wooden plaques which could be personalized in the same way, save that they were meant as a monument kept within the family's house for those who had not returned from the war. Every house had many of those along the walls...

"Don't be afraid to talk to anyone," Fiore was whispering to him now. Marluxia gazed at his owner with disbelief as Fiore told him to conduct himself as though he belonged in this place and asked him to try. No. There was no possible way he could pull that off. Fiore had to be joking.

There was a slight pause, and then Fiore, having sensed Marluxia's inward refusal, added two words to his plea: "For me?"

Damn it.. How did Fiore know that would work on him? Marluxia had not been aware that it would take so little to influence him. He gave a heavy sigh and nodded, before taking a deep breath and adopting the persona he normally reserved for his own home, in the royal courts where he had always needed to appear calm and in control, never insecure or out of place. Either Fiore was correct and this would make things go more smoothly here... or it was going to land him in a world of trouble if the wrong person chose to complain to their King that the slave was acting as though it were a Makaiju.. Time would see if he lived through this or not. But Fiore had pleaded.. And Marluxia had obliged.
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'So that did work. . .' The Prince inwardly giggled, watching Marluxia's demeanor change, adopting a very confident princely persona. Following suit, Fiore did the same. He drew in a breath, stood up a little straighter and tilted his chin up so he was no longer facing the floor-- he mimicked the pinkette as he tried to understand him better. For the moment, no one noticed their entrance, instead they just went about their day; There were samples of pastries to be tasted, tea to be drank, art to be observed and goods to be purchased. However, a moment later a small child ran ( stumbled ) up to them and stopped just an arm's length away from Fiore-- he beamed a smile, missing one of his front teeth, "Prince Fiore, Prince Fiore!"

The Prince's uneasy expression softened immediately and he bent down to the child's level with a small smile on his face. "Hello Basile," he greeted, ruffling the child's hair. "Where your sister?"

"She's over 'der," chirped the small boy, pointing someone off to the left-- he couldn't have been more than four ( in human years ) so it was somewhat difficult to understand him. "Will you come play with us?"

Fiore glanced over at Marluxia, a bit embarrassed-- he loved kids. He often came to the market for the sole purpose of seeing the kids-- their parents always brought them along, despite their complaints. "Well, actually I've got. . . a new friend to show around today." He gestured towards the pink-haired human, "He'll be joining us for a while-- would you like to say hello?"

Basile cocked his head to the side, studying Marluxia curiously, but without fear-- he was still young enough that he didn't fully understand war yet so the concept of race was a bit over his head. With unsteady steps, he approached the much taller man, still smiling. He tugged on Marluxia's sleeve. "Hi! My name is Basile! What's yours? You have girly hair!" At that, Fiore shot him a look and he giggled, "Sorry-- your hair is pretty."

'His edit wasn't much better.' The Makaiju rested his face against his palm and shook his head. 'The key to peace is through the next generation-- no one is born to hate. Hatred is taught. These children will certainly accept Marluxia, but those who have lost loved ones in the war. . . they will not be so easy to convince. Oh heavens, what will I do?' Fiore forced his eyes open once more-- he was exhausted, it couldn't be helped. He watched Basile babble on about his sister and his mother to Marluxia, who probably would not understand even half of what the child said ( much less, care ). It struck him as almost cute, seeing the little boy attempt to befriend the "enemy" Prince.

"My sister Kannella is only three, so she still mumbles when she talks!" explained the talkative four-year-old, excitedly.

"I think that's enough, Basile," came a woman's voice from off to the left. She was haggard, carrying a little girl ( Kannella ) in her arms. With her free hand she patted her thigh, a summoning for her son to return to her side. She looked Marluxia over, then gave Fiore an uneasy look, but she still attempted to be friendly. "Who's your new. . . friend, Fiore?" They all addressed him informally-- upon his request.

"This is Marluxia," he introduced, gesturing towards the slightly taller man. "He'll be staying with us for quite some time. I introduced him to the Tree already," which was code for "he already has a blessing", something clearly important to their kind. The White City had to be protected, and the Tree was the best protection they had-- it had been their guardian for centuries.

"Mar. . . luxia?" She couldn't quite say the name properly, just as Fiore hadn't been able to at first either. "A peculiar name." The woman shook her head, then turned to face the pinkette with sleepless eyes-- they were a dull shade of magenta with dark rings around them. Her mint-green skin was fair but her cheeks were sunken-- she looked the faintest bit unhealthy. "You're not from here, are you?" But of course, she already knew the answer.

"--He was kind enough to visit, upon my request," Fiore cut in, giving her a sugar-coated smile, "He's a friend of the royal family."

She arched a brow, "I see. Has he visited before?"

"Yes ma'am, but it's been a while-- you know how things are in this terrible time of war." Fiore glanced over at Marluxia, hoping he'd take a hint. No one had told his people the war was over yet-- they were not told of any victory-- it was, for the time being, a secret.
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The transformation in the pair was no doubt miraculous. Especially in Fiore, who seemed to have a habit of appearing.. shy. Marluxia took in the difference and had to admit to himself that it was impressive. Fiore looked like the prince his title suggested now. Marluxia tried to follow his lead, not knowing that the prince was doing the same. They likely both appeared more regal now than was either of their customs, now that they were both making the effort together.

However, the act did not truly last long for Marluxia, because suddenly there was a talkative little boy accosting them. And if there was anything that could break Marluxia's facade it was children. He limited himself to a small smile as the child spoke to Fiore. But the smile turned into a grin the moment the boy began to speak to him. He offered the kid a mock-injured expression when Basile proclaimed his hair 'girly'.

"I noticed that as well," was his answer to that, for indeed he was becoming used to it. "I am glad you find it pretty." He aimed a smile at the boy and, without stopping to consider if this was appropriate or not, he knelt down to the child's level and allowed him to take a closer look, not protesting at all when Basile reached out to touch it.

As the child prattled on about his sister and life in general Marluxia paid close attention, hanging on every word, because he truly had to pay attention to catch the meaning there. But that did not keep him from noticing how tired Fiore appeared, and he made a mental note of it.

Before he could respond to Basile (or get in a word honestly) another Makaiju appeared, seemingly the boy's mother, and Marluxia immediately stood once more, swiftly adopting the act once more in the presence of another Makaiju. Funny, how he had not felt the need to be wary of the boy at all.. even if there was no way to overlook his race. Children were just.. children, he supposed. They were not subject to his prejudice, not at all. Although his father would have disagreed..

He nodded politely toward the woman, all evidence of his distrust completely hidden. He smiled and attempted to be friendly without approaching or making a move toward her. He did not know how flighty Makaiju civilians were, and he did not wish to startle her. But he did laugh softly at her comment on his name.

"Even my own people think my name odd," he assured her lightly. "Feel free to call me 'Mar' if you like."

She turned toward him, asking an odd question. Whether he was 'from here'. Marluxia kept his expression from changing, but he wanted to raise an eyebrow in question. He was spared having to answer by Fiore, and he listened intently as his prince began to explain.. or lie. And Marluxia finally understood that these people did not know him to be Fiore's slave yet.. No wonder Fiore had him put on the act. Well, now he felt slightly better about it. He nodded, confirming Fiore's statements as 'true', because obviously he had no choice.

"It has been a long time indeed. I am sorry, you pronounced my name fairy well a moment ago, but I am afraid I have not yet had the pleasure of catching your own. Could I ask it of you?" It was a soft request, in no way demanding. If she did not wish for him to know, she could most certainly change the subject or simply refuse. Marluxia would make no comment on it.
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Fiore
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Nothing but adoration could be felt as Fiore watched the exchange between Marluxia and Basile-- he stood off the the side and observed them until the boy's mother intervened. Although she was tense and tired looking, she seemed to handle the situation surprisingly well, considering her husband-- the father of her two children, had been slaughtered in the war. ( From what Fiore understood, it had not been an easy death either. )

The woman shifted the child in her arms and observed Marluxia with an unreadable expression-- it was neither soft, nor full of hate as it might have been in another situation. She was rather impressed at how polite he was. It amazed her to think such a lovely, delicate creature could have killed her husband. "Hyacinth," she answered with little hesitation. "My name is Hyacinth and this," she shifted the sleeping girl in her arms once more, "Is Kannella." Basile stood at the woman's side, holding onto her skirt-- she wore a long baby-blue gown and a nice white blouse and a darker blue sash around her waist-- silver charms dangled from the dash, soundlessly clinking against one another when she moved. She reached down with her free hand and patted his head, smoothing his wind-blown hair with a nurturing smile. "This, as I'm sure you know, is Basile. My son. He seems to have taken a liking to you." As if to confirm her words as true, the young boy bobbed his head and beamed a toothy smile, a dark space where his missing tooth would have been.

Fiore was fading in and out of consciousness-- he couldn't quite focus on the conversation, though he had made an effort to follow along. 'What are you doing? This is crazy! It's never going to work! You'll just launch us into another war and the blood will be on your hands.' The accusations flew through his mind-- he was still mulling over the idea of peace. It didn't quite roll off his tongue the right way; when he said the word there was a bad taste left in his mouth-- something about this just didn't fit. The younger man rubbed at his eyes, yawned softly and turned to look the other way, but instead there was a collision-- another body bumped against his and he stumbled backwards, into Marluxia. "Γαμώτο! Γαμώτο!" Fiore cursed under his breath and attempted to right himself, but his tired body resisted the movement.

"Πρίγκιπα μου, είσαι καλά?" Hyacinth asked, alarmed. When she realized it was only a small accident, she calmed a bit, but the fear didn't fade from her face.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," Fiore shifted back into a language Marluxia would understand as he brushed himself off, giving his guest an apologetic look. "I'm sorry-- I- I wasn't paying attention."
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Marluxia
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It was almost unnerving, how friendly this woman seemed.. That was not to say that she was overly open or trusting of him. Obviously that was quite impossible and Marluxia would likely have suspected a trick of some sort if she had. But he was astounded that there was nothing hostile in her interaction with him. And he found himself softening inwardly toward another Makaiju.. the third, if he included her adorable son.

"Hyacinth.." Marluxia smiled at the name. Such lovely names, all of them. And the little girl is as beautiful as her name." He was still slightly shocked that his smile was genuine. But he found himself liking this family. More so than he could have believed possible of a human for a Makaiju unit. His attention shifted to the boy again so he could nod in response. "I do believe he and I get along quite nicely," he responded.

At that moment Fiore seemed to lose his balance, or perhaps he was pushed.. Marluxia had been focused on the the family before him and had his guard down in the midst of seemingly a flood of Fiore's people. He'd assumed them to be quite safe, unless someone were to decide to attack himself. But he had still been half keeping an eye on Fiore since the other was appearing quite tired, and he turned swiftly to steady the prince as he stumbled backward against him.

He did not ask anything, since Hyacinth seemed to be quicker at it than he was. He allowed her to assess the situation, and when she relaxed, so did he, visibly. Fiore righted himself and apologized, but Marluxia was still rather worried.

"Fiore.. You look very tired, my friend," He strove to keep his voice normal, but it still seemed to carry more concern than he liked. "It's probably time we returned you to your room. You can continue giving me the tour tomorrow when you feel a little better, hmm?" He tried to set Fiore at ease with a smile, but offered him a shoulder to lean on. The man looked so dead on his feet that Marluxia had to wonder if the man was feeling ill. He was not even sure if Fiore could make it back to the palace on his own power now. He hoped the younger man would take aid when it was offered, should he need it.

"Thank you for speaking to me, Basile. It is nice to have made a new friend today. And Hyacinth, it was a true pleasure speaking to you. But I think we will have to speak again some other time. I look forward to it." He bowed his head, not knowing if that was a sign of respect among the Makaiju, but since he was attempting to coerce Fiore into heading back now, it was really all he could manage to give them.
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Fiore
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"I'm fine," Fiore mutter under his breath, a hint of annoyance in his tone. He was more than used to being treated as if he were made of glass but he had hoped to avoid that issue with Marluxia. However, it seemed that his guest had caught on and adopted the babysitter persona rather quickly. "Marly, I'll be okay," but he wobbled when said so, and he had to hold onto the other man just to keep from falling. After a moment, Fiore realized he'd already given the human a nick name and he became a bit flustered. Alright, so maybe he was just a little tired.

Hyacinth intervened, "Fiore, you need to rest. You know your father will no be pleased if you get sick again." She gave him a steady look, shifted the child in her arms and laid a hand upon his shoulder, but looked to Marluxia instead. "Take him home, and please, make sure he drinks a few cups of tea before bed." She drew the hand back and instead took the hand of Basile, who pushed out his lower lip in a pout.

"Momma, do we have to go home?" Meanwhile, he yawned and rubbed at his eye with a closed, tiny fist. Basile looked to Fiore and Marluxia, then offered a sleepy smile. "I'll see you," yawn, "guys tomorrow." His "r"s came out more like "w"s. Then, the family of three turned around and left the market, heading towards their home-- a cottage only a small walk from where they stood.

The Makaiju prince realized he was still sort of awkwardly clinging to Marluxia to remain on his feet and pulled away immediately, stumbling into a very un-princely stance. He nearly tripped over his cape and with a very red face, he turned on his heel, begrudgingly walking off in the direction of the castle. 'Damn my immune system.' Fiore had always been a bit unhealthy; when he was "born" they were unsure if he'd be able to get through the first year-- he had a terrible fever that lasted weeks, but they took care of him and to this day, he was still here, even if he wasn't quite as strong as a prince should be. ( He was no storybook hero wielding a sword, riding a white horse. In fact, he was the furthest thing from in. ) After a moment he was able to tuck away the embarrassment and once more returned to his shy, awkward self. He chanced a look over at Marluxia-- he couldn't quite read him as well as he would have liked, but over all, he was sure that experience hadn't been terrible.

"You liked them," he stated; it wasn't a question. He met eyes with the human-- both sets of irises were immaculate shades of blue-- though Fiore's were soft like summer rain, and Marluxia's were bright like the sky. "Do you still think we're monsters?" Perhaps it was the wrong time to ask such a question, but perhaps Basile had been enough to change his mind. "Hyacinth is a kind woman, and she liked you," he told the other with more confidence than he felt. Fiore looked down at the ground now, while he walked-- he didn't want to trip again, lest he end up knocking poor Marluxia over this time. "She lost her husband in the war, before little Kannella was even born." He frowned, "It pains me to see her growing up without a father, but Hyacinth is a good mother, and I think both Kannella and Basile will grow very strong, in body, mind and heart."
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