Disclaimer: I hold none of the rights to Magi or anything associated with it. I'm simply getting my shits and giggles from screwing with the characters.

Note: Okay, I've been persuaded to the Alibaba x Kougoku fandom by my good friend, TouchofFever. Chick has some seriously awesome stories to tell, and she's having me help beta a full-blown chapter story she's intermittently working on for Aligyoku. I'm a huge fan now. Even more than my love of Morgiana, I really, really enjoy Alibaba and Kougyoku. So this is a little something to help me satisfy my crazing, get me back in the swing of things and... kill some time at work, if I'm honest. 8D;

Daisies for Innocence

UntappedChaos

The moment was ridiculously, unbelievably peaceful. The sea breeze was gentle, the flowers fragrant, and the company good... despite there only being the two of them. Kougyoku peeked at her blonde companion from beneath crimson lashes, not quite sure what to make of him.

Alibaba Saluja. He had a few too many meanings to the Kou princess, not unlike flowers that sent opposing messages. He was both the fallen royalty of a nation her people conquered and a man that, for a moment or two, had come within a hair's breadth of being her husband. He was a refugee, and yet his confidence seemingly hadn't faltered; he was by all means a man who should be beneath her notice, and yet she could not tear her attention from him. Irony, oxymoron, or perhaps just the gods' ill sense of humor... Kougyoku had yet to decide.

Nimble fingers covered in calluses and bruises wove an intricate garland of daisies, finishing with a tiny little flourish she couldn't quite see before he placed it on her head, awkwardly askew. Daisies for innocence.

She wondered if he knew.

The next time they were quite so alone was in a tiny garden that most residents of the Kou Palace forgot even existed. It was a grove of orange trees, and the heady scent of their fruit was overwhelming in the dark of the balmy night. The lights from the windows just barely touching the leaves of the hedges that surrounded them, leaving deep shadows cast beneath the boughs. Kougyoku hesitated behind one of the largest hedges, wondering what he thought of her- of them- after the rather forced negotiations. Kouen had been rough, his usual obsession with knowledge selfishly drawing the prince, his household member, and the young magi to their side. They were probably lucky that the preoccupation had curbed his desire for conquest, but she doubted they knew that, or felt that way.

"Don't hide. You can come here." She startled when he spoke, face hidden in the darkness, his white robes stark against the night. However much she thought she'd hidden herself, apparently it wasn't enough. She caught a ghost of a smile when he turned to face her, beckoning again, "What's wrong?"

She moved a little more in to view, muttering, "Are you sure you wish to speak to me?"

The wry little laugh that escaped his lips felt, tasted, sounded much too bitter to be the bright, gentle friend she remembered. "I'm sure. Come here."

However unsure, she tiptoed to his side; she felt differently now, more than a year away from that sun-bright afternoon with daisies. She wasn't sure if this Alibaba was the same one she left there, calling friend. When she came to his side, her attention was immediately drawn to a strong scent of flowers, and belatedly she noticed that he was yet again weaving garlands.

Silently, as if accepting everything that happened with a bit of grace and a sad heart, Alibaba dropped the ringlet on her head again, the angle awkward as the last time, before patting her cheek and turning to leave. It broke her heart, because she could still smell the brine, just like that far-away sea... but the tears that stained his hand were far from that breeze, even as the freesia garland waved before her eyes were a far cry from their daisies. Our friendship is lasting.

She still wondered if he knew, when the yellow blooms nodded in to view, that he was making a promise he might not be able to keep.

There came a moment where, another year from then, they missed each other by breaths, and by heartbeats, and the fact that Hakuryuu's innumerable plants had been burned into submission secretly brought her an insurmountable joy. She wanted Kou to fail. She desired the empire's fall. There was no way for her not to notice the aberrations occurring, the contradictions in their teachings, their cries. She felt a rent deep in her core, hating with all her being this war that masqueraded as peace to every country's door.

Then there was liatris scattered on the barren earth, and she knew without a doubt he left them for her. He hadn't even had time to weave them, nor to drop them on her head at an awkward angle, nor to even meet her eyes. He had no time for anything but the battle ahead of him, and yet he left them. This time, she was almost sure he was doing it on purpose. I swear I'll try again.

But in a moment they were gone, and she could only hope that she wasn't dreaming.

The winter solstice held innumerable festivals, and yet more than two years since seeing her elusive friend, Kougyoku could not find it in her to participate in the pageantry. However sumptuous the feasts, however beautiful and expensive the silks, however fine the wines and men, she couldn't so much as crack a smile, her eyes downcast unless to search the stars and count the days idly. The youngest princess and General, she undoubtedly had suitors clinging to each arm, and yet she barely paid them an ounce of attention in her melancholy. Her siblings were beginning to whisper and worry, and in his own somewhat high-handed way, Kouen had even attempted to cheer her up, but it had come to essentially nothing.

Those in the palace who cared were baffled, and those who didn't simply ignored it, and she in turn ignored them.

There came however, a feast and dance at the very height of the season, and there, for the first time in months upon months, the Princess General finally wore a stunningly serene smile. Her eyes were gentle upon others, her posture much more confident and relaxed, rather than slumped with care and concern. She was silently delighting, in what they could only guess, but only one had the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the garland of poinsettias set gently on her head. Be of good cheer!

With just the fact that they were there, she was.

It was that glimpse of blonde hair, his frame, his stature, that blasted sword that she swore she would know anywhere. In a split second, she was following a shadow from the battlefield, slipping away in the chaos without a single thought to how much trouble she would be in. How many years had it been now? There hadn't been even the slightest indication of his presence since those poinsettias on the Solstice... two, three years ago? Her heart was aching, the scales of her djinn equip rippling as her nerves seized, anxious, urgent, wanting. She'd been chasing shadows and weaving garlands for five years, hoping against hope, heart holding it's breath and wishing for just one more encounter. Just one, even for a brief meeting of the eyes.

The sea shore ended, and through an ancient grove the apparition led her. Wreaths marked the path after she lost him, showing her the way. Pansies, Think of me. Periwinkle, Tender recollections. A handful of pomegranates suddenly insulted her, saying, Foolishness, until a spray of tassel flowers said, I was hopeless, but not helpless. A long, winding drape of Lily of the Valley said, My happiness has returned, and it led her to a curtain of willow boughs, beneath which was yet another garland of stock flowers, You will always be beautiful to me.

It made her want to cry. She wasn't sure which was more upsetting; that he wasn't there when she finally pushed away the curtain, or that in his place was an ancient, forgotten garden of moss roses, all whispering, I confess my love to you.

How unfair, when she wanted to tell him, too.

Touch and go, there and gone, fleeting shows and failing flowers; Kougyoku had become quite adept at drying them, turning them in to potpourri and labeling each with care, storing memories together with the shriveled and yet fragrant blooms. She kept them all, refusing to dispose of them even when their scents were gone, simply gazing upon their withered states that were not unlike her thirsting, withered heart. She cursed the pansies, because she was indeed always thinking of him. She felt like blowing raspberries at the periwinkles, because heaven forbid she should recall anything but their halcyon days. However much it rankled, she agreed with the pomegranates, whose skins she had also dried; this was utter foolishness and yet here she was, nearly eaten alive by the day with memories and a bitter sense of longing.

Then she would come to the Lily of the Valley, and her heart would melt a little, because he was happy with her, those few moments they had. She melted a little more, nearly to tears, when she made it to the stock flowers and he whispered how she would always be beautiful to him.

Then before she could even get in a good cry she would move on to those blasted moss roses, his infuriatingly sweet confession, and get mad all over again. That afternoon of comfort, their evening in the grove... It was now seven years since she last laid eyes on him, and from her bridal suite she cast a mournful glance out the window, damning him for all she was worth. Today was her wedding day of all things, though it was once again some forced, contrived political mess. It took her back to that disastrous day in Balbadd where everything had gone to hell in a hand basket, and she quietly asked the gods what the hell they were thinking, having them meet. If she were going to fall and love and then be forced into yet another unwanted marriage, it would have been more merciful to never let her love at all. That's what she kept thinking.

That's what she was thinking.

However, there came a time where attendants entered the room, ready to dress her in the swathes of white and red and gold that would bless her as a wedding gown; yet they opened the door and found only a few stray dogwood blossoms in the chair their vanished princess had so recently occupied. They could not hear the message the nodding white flowers had told only her.

My love is undiminished by adversity.

Thus she disappeared without anyone hearing their last words.