Begun: A long time ago.
Ended: A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.
Disclaimer: I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.
Warnings: This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.
Makoto laughed gleefully, attempting a spin like her mother did when she danced. She succeeded two turns before getting caught in the pooling material of her gown and falling to the ground with an "oof!". Her nurse, always standing close by, swooped down and picked her up off the floor, cradling her and cooing. Makoto giggled, forgetting the slight shock she'd experienced. She didn't cry. Makoto hardly ever cried.
"Na ... are mama and papa gonna be back?" she asked, blinking huge green eyes at her nurse.
"Of course, baby," the elderly woman replied, "They will surely hurry back to be with their little girl."
Makoto gave a childish grin and hugged her nurse. "Will mama be angry at me for bo'rring her dress?"
"Of course not, baby. You're precious to her; she will never be angry at you."
The domestic scene would have made a passer-by smile, but it was quickly disturbed by the angry shouting of a mob gathered around the outside of the building. The nurse gasped. She hid Makoto's face in her chest and herself against the wall so no one looking in could see her or the child. But she could see out – there were so many angry young men and women. Some had torches, some had rocks, others had swords. They had come for blood.
"Tensions ran too high," the old woman sighed sadly.
Makoto wiggled uncomfortably, "Wha's goin' on?" she demanded.
"Shh, young one, do not make noise," said the nurse in a hushed, worried voice. She paced the room, gathering a cloak to cover her charge with, "We're going to play a new game. We must both be very quiet and make it to the basement without a sound. No one must see us, or we will lose. If we win, we will get you some sweets. Fushichou can come too," she added quickly, placing the small toy bird into Makoto's little hands, "Do you understand?"
In truth, Makoto had no idea what was going on. But the idea of sweets was appealing and she liked games, and Fushichou was with her. She nodded anyway, closing her mouth and placing her hands over her lips to show that she wouldn't make a sound. Her nurse smiled at her and wrapped her in the blanket, trying to hide the cloth of her mistress' dress inside the drab material. Then she fled the room.
The screams got louder as they stole down the hall, accompanied now by breaking glass and the sound of flames eating through the wooden furniture and flammable cloth curtains. The nurse held Makoto closer still to her body and forced her legs to run faster. She had to get to the basement, she had to move before they were found. The guards were already moving to head off the attackers, but there were still screams of the injured and dying. There were just too many. The door leading to the dark basement had never looked so magical.
"We are nearly there, Makoto. We shall win," she whispered.
Makoto just nodded and hugged Fushichou tighter. She wanted to look around, but dared not. She wanted to talk, to cry even, she wanted to know if her mother and father would be there, waiting for her. But she flinched at the sound of flames and kept her mouth shut. The door shut firmly behind them, and she heard the click of a lock sliding into place. Her nurse continued to carry her into the depths of the basement, away from the light and into the pitch black that she hated so much. She started crying then, softly and with hardly a sound.
"I'm scared," she finally dared to whisper.
"So am I," agreed her nurse, "But we have won. We will be fine."
A new door opened. They were in a tiny room with a tiny window towards the ceiling. The nurse closed this door behind them too, keeping well out of the way of the ray of light and pressing them to the wall underneath the window. She hummed a soft lullaby, hoping to send her charge to sleep until they knew it was safe to emerge. When she thought it was safe again it was four hours later, and all sounds at all had ceased.
"They're all dead, then," the nurse predicted, "Or there would be police searching for survivors. We must flee this place."
"Hey ... kid ... Hey ... "
Makoto opened her eyes drowsily. Everything was blurry and smelled funny. She hid her face and tried to go back to sleep. The persistent hand shaking her shoulder would not let her that peace.
"C'mon! Kid! Wake up!" the young boy's voice said urgently.
Makoto opened her eyes again, groaning her annoyance. The boy hovering above her gave a short laugh. Only then did Makoto realize that her nurse was no longer holding her. She gasped and shot up from the ground, "Nana!"
"Is that the old woman?" the boy asked.
She didn't answer, instead looking around frantically. The boy sighed and grabbed her head to hold her still.
"Listen to me, girl. Is Nana the old woman who was with you?"
"Un ... " Makoto nodded shakily.
"Well she's dead." The little girl's eyes widened again, but the boy didn't allow her to speak. "I found you in the middle of the street. She was covering you from harm – I can only guess it means you're important. And since you're not from here, it means that you're one of them, which means it's not safe for you. So go that way," the boy pointed down a long alley that connected to many others, "Keep going straight. It'll lead you to people who will care about your life. Do you understand?"
As before, Makoto had no idea what was going on. Dead? Nana? Safe? Why wasn't she safe here? Her parents hadn't had a problem until today. But they were fine, weren't they? It was part of the game that she was playing with Nana. She stared blankly at the boy with the long braided hair. He sighed and forced her to stand. She realized she was still wearing her mother's dress and necklace.
"Look, girl. Just go that way," the boy pointed, "You'll meet friends there. You'll win your game."
Uncertainly, Makoto backed away from the boy. Moved towards the alley. How did he know about her special game? An after-explosion rocked the ground. She ran.
During a break in the chaos, one of three Maguanarc soldiers standing the afternoon watch looked up to the sky, his brow furrowing. Below them the sounds of shouting police and rioters were slowly dying down. He could still smell burning stone and cloth and bodies, could still hear the moans of the dying. Perhaps that was why the clouds turning black now and rushed in – perhaps Allah was mourning the deaths of the members of the peace envoy. Perhaps this was an omen of coming war with their enemy tribe.
"Looks like a storm is brewing, Rashid," he murmured.
His two companions looked to the sky as well, each surprised. Sure enough, the clouds were moving in a way that could only mean a sudden storm, and not a sand storm either. The sky was turning far too black for it too be an ordinary sand storm, and they were well past the hurricane season.
"Odd. We aren't due for a storm like this for another three months, at least. Perhaps Allah shows us his sorrow," Rashid murmured, "Master Quatre will be pleased, however."
The three shifted their heads so they could look at each other properly, smiling at the thought of their young Master, but it was quickly washed away by another thought. "Let us hope Master Quatre never learns of what happened to cause it."
Only then did they hear the sounds of a child's tiny sobs. They looked down from their wall quickly looking for the lost child. They saw no one.
Rashid frowned, "We must find the child. Things are too dangerous for the little ones."
The other two nodded and they quickly descended from the wall, searching for the crying child. Then they heard small feet trying to run against cloth. They came across their mysterious child when she tripped and ran into Rashid. She blinked dazedly, staring at the unfamiliar pants she had run into, looking helpless and pathetic in a formal dress that must have been her mothers, judging from the way it dragged on the ground and pooled at her feet. The girl looked up suddenly. Then she backed up, her eyes huge and scared, hurriedly murmuring apologies in a dialect of Arabic that they recognized to be of their enemies' tribe.
"A survivor? ... Girl! What are you doing here? Who are you?" the first soldier barked.
She jerked a little at his harsh tone, auburn hair now falling loosely into frightened green eyes. The soldiers' demeanor relaxed a bit as they realized how scared she was, and the second soldier kneeled down so he was eye level to her.
"I am Abdul. What's your name, child?" he asked, kindly.
"Ma ... Makoto, sir."
"Makoto? Well, Makoto, what are you doing here? Where are your parents?"
Tears welled up in her big eyes and she hugged what looked like a toy fashioned after a phoenix. "Mama and papa ... they're ... they're back there ... " she whispered, gesturing vaguely at the burning remains of the foreign relations office. "Nana's gone! I'm alone ... and lost."
A shared look between the soldiers and they agreed silently to take her back to the palace. She was a survivor of the carnage that was the peace envoy. They would need her if they wished to escape a war, and she needed a home, if not a family. They all knew that Quatre would never forgive them if they did not extend kindness, even to an enemy. Besides, she was young and lost, what could she possibly do to them? Rashid kneeled so that he, like Abdul, was eye level with the tiny child.
"Makoto, you must come with us. It is not safe for you here, with us you will be looked after. You will be safe with us," he offered.
She looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Really?"
"Yes."
Makoto thought for perhaps two seconds before she nodded. "Thank you. I 'cept your gen-er-ous offer."
Abdul, in a gesture of sympathy, picked the young girl up – preparing to carry her to the palace. Looking as tired as she did, there was cause to doubt that she would make it on her own two feet. The three soldiers shared a look over the top of her head, as well, for she had unusally refined manners for a child.
"How old are you, Makoto?" Abdul asked.
She yawned hugely behind her small hand and rested her head on Abdul's shoulder. "Six ... "
With that small word she drifted into the land of dreams, sleeping more soundly than she had in a week. The three Maguanarcs were ready to drop from shock, though their training forbade it. The girl was six! Abdul looked down at the little girl in his arms.
"So young ... Do not fear, Makoto. We shall not let any harm come to you," he whispered.
It was a challenge just getting an audience with their king granted. News of the destruction of their office had spread like wildfire, and civilians and officials alike waited with bated breath to hear of the consequences. Would there be war? Would the mob of rebels be put to death? Would they be rewarded?
"Allow us to pass, quickly! We have news that must not be kept from the king," Rashid demanded of a cleric.
"I cannot do that, sir!" the cleric said anxiously, "Our Lord is swamped with officials and advisors already!"
"This cannot wait!" Rashid said, allowing annoyance to creep into his powerful voice, "This girl must be presented to him – she is a survivor of the attack today! Perhaps the only one!"
The cleric's eyes widened. They were allowed into the audience chamber shortly after, hardly given time to breathe before they were announced to the council and the king. Makoto slumbered against Abdul's shoulder.
"You bring me a girl?" the king snorted, but his interest was still piqued. "How could a girl possibly be so important that she could not wait?"
"Your Majesty, she is the child of one of the peace envoy from the Aswad Naar," Rashid replied.
"WHAT!" the king shouted at his soldiers.
Abdul instinctively covered the girls' ears and winced.
"You dare bring this girl to me, and tell me that she is of our enemy tribe!" the elderly man raved, standing from his throne in a rush, his face reddened.
Rashid stood in front of his fellow soldiers and bowed deeply before the king. "Forgive me, Lord. It was my idea, and as my subordinates they were only following my orders. It is all my fault. But my Lord, she is only a small child – the only survivor of the peace envoy. Surely she can not harm us. Perhaps she can even be used against our enemy someday – or to avoid a war at all."
The king opened his mouth to give another rant, but quickly shut it again. He recognized the values of his appointed head Maguanarc and knew that the man had a good head on his shoulders when it came to battle strategies. He sighed and sat back in his throne.
"Perhaps you are right. Lock her in the dungeon tonight. I'll deal with her in the morning."
"No, father, please!" cried a small voice.
The king looked down at his small son, who was currently standing in one of the many entryways to the throne room, looking horrified.
"Father, please," he repeated, "let her stay in the servants quarters, at least! She is so small, she would never last!"
Once again the king sighed, knowing that he could never deny his son anything. He nodded. "Very well, Quatre, she shall be placed in your servants quaters. I will have nothing to do with her. And take her out of those ridiculous clothes. She is no royalty."
Quatre sighed and smiled in relief. He nodded happily. "Thank you, father. I'll take her - "
"Will."
"I will take her. I shall look after her. Abdul, follow me, please."
The soldier nodded and followed the young prince to his quarters, where his servants would take care of the little girl. The king sighed warily and looked down at the remaining two. "She may stay now, but heed this warning: One move from the that indicates her to be our enemies' spy, and you shall all lose your heads."
Rashid nodded gravely. "It is understood, Lord."
"Good. Now leave me."
"Yes, Lord."
"Makoto ... Wake up, child."
The little girl squirmed and wrinkled her tiny nose. The old woman smiled, a smile that a grandmother would bestow upon her favorite grandchild. She had been removed from her fancy dress and necklace. Those things had been carefully washed and placed into a locked trunk in Dalraa's room for safe-keeping. The girl was a servant now – she would likely never see those things again – but the old woman couldn't bring herself to get rid of them. It pained her to wake the child, but she would have to become acquainted with early rising and a long day. She shook the child some more, gently, and finally the emerald green eyes opened.
"Welcome to the land of the living," the woman greeted.
"Where ... ?" Makoto asked sleepily.
"The palace. Your new home, child. I am Dalraa, the head of Lord Quatre's servants. You will report to me daily for your chores and my orders come before everyone except Master Quatre and the King. Is this understood?"
"Not really. But ... I'll try to be fas – fastidi ... to be good."
Dalraa smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Come with me, now, I'll show you where you'll be living. Then I'll give you a tour and explain your duties to the King and his family. Also, your language is forbidden in this city. If anyone overhears you speaking, you'll be a dead girl. So you must learn our ways of speaking, and quickly."
Makoto nodded solemnly and stood, holding out her tiny hand to Dalraa. The old woman smiled patronizingly and took the hand, watching from the corner of her eye as the little girl toddled around, looking from place to place of her new home in awe.
I hope you'll be happy here, little one, at least a little. And I pray no one will find out the truth of where you come from.