Characters: Marluxia, Diana Time Period: Pre-CoM, Post Airship Crash Rating/Warnings: T/Mild blood and violence

He has come across a rose garden. Unruly and rugged, its bushes have been allowed to grow large, thick and naturally perfect. This is Marluxia's favourite type of garden: the type that controlled itself. He gracefully jumps over the low, chained up, gate and smirks to himself. To him, plants are meant to be left well alone and should be allowed to look after themselves. No unnatural systems necessary. Not unless the mayflies become pests.

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance and he sighs silently, rising his black hood, just in case rain starts to fall, and then his hair will be free from risk of ruin. It was not that he despises the rain. In fact, he loves wet weather, being a flower mage and all. April showers bring mayflowers. No truer words have been spoken since, or ever will again.

Carefully, Marluxia plucks a petal from one of the blooms, examining the texture and colour. It was a wonderful specimen of the rosaceae family: a good shade of red, silky to the touch and razor-sharp thorns. Why these beauties are lost in a brown, mossy wood in utterly beyond the Assassin's understanding. Because of the gate, he guesses that this is a private garden; a piece of paradise for a selfish person, who doesn't like sharing. Well, who could blame them? Marluxia could not judge anyone of such a crime.

He looks around for a bench to sit on, but fails to see one. No matter. He can stand. He will only stay here for a while, to take in the lush colour and the aromas, and to refresh before continuing his search of the area.

"Wendy!"

Marluxia freezes. He swears he can hear a voice, not too far away from here he is now. Maybe this is private land after all. That makes him a trespasser. He shrugs this information off. If this garden does belong to someone, he will just apologies for intruding and leave with no fuss.

"Wendy!" cries the voice again, a little closer and it comes closer still, followed by the sound of shoes crushing against the grave path. "Miss Carol said it's time for supper…" The voice twists into a mocking, infantile snare. "You don't want Hoffman to scold you again, do you?"

The Nobody chuckles. It is obviously a child and nothing more. He pulls his hood tight to hide his face in shadows. At the chained gate, a young lass appears and chucks her worn, well-used hockey stick over the gate with a thump on the grass, before climbs over the rusting metal, scrambling and landing on her already scraped palms and knees, which she quickly dusts off with bitter grumbling.

She looks up, and her eyes widen in surprise as she finally take notice of the man clad in black in her garden. Marluxia takes this opportunity to take in her looks. This girl's hair is shoulder-length and wavy, a beautiful copper shade, and frames her heart-shaped face ever so neatly. Her complexion is healthy and freckled, with pink-blushed lips, and her body is slender and long. Her startling irises are a pale silvery-blue, shining and rimed with a deep navy.

Physically, she reminds Marluxia of Naminé. They are of a similar age, both slim and pleasant to look at, and this girl's eyes are like his little witch's… but there is a spark in this girl's irises, within her which is more like the fire in Larxene's eyes. What is it? Mischief? Cunning? Wickedness, or maybe malice? What an interesting combination.

The girl cannot see his face under his hood, and she furrows her brow. She grabs her hockey stick and stands her ground. She holds her stick like a weapon.

"Who are you?" she barks at the man. Marluxia arches a brow at her and doesn't answer. The girl takes a step forward and barks again. "This is private property," she tells him. "You have no right to be here."

"You are a very confident child" the man smiles, amused. The girl's eyes widen again and then huffs.

"This land belongs to the Rose Garden Orphanage" she exclaims.

Marluxia arches his brow again. "Rose Garden Orphanage, hm? Very suitable name…I didn't mean to be a bother, my dear girl." He placing a hand to his chest. "I just so happened to stumble upon your marvellous flower beds by accident." He pauses and takes a step forward. "You must be a lucky child. Despite being orphaned, you have a lovely place to live… We are in the same boat, you know." He smiles under his leather and hair. "I have no mother or father as well."

The girl blinks at him and the hockey stick is lower from her chest to her waist. "Really?"

"I tell you no lie."

His smile grows as the child comes closer; slow at first but quickens the pace to a normal speed. She stops a handful of inches away from him and holds her stick in one hand, spiking it into the dirt. Her pale eyes lid slightly. She tries to see past the shadows of this man's cloak, but her eyesight is not good enough. She just stands proudly in front of him, trying to work out how he functions. Just who is this bizarre gentleman?

"You haven't seen another girl by any chance?" she asks after a moment. "About so high, blonde, sickly, last seen wearing a white sunhat."

Marluxia guesses that this "another girl" is the "Wendy" she is looking for and shakes his head.

"I'm afraid not, my dear. I haven't seen anyone else along this path. No one but you."

The girl sighs over-dramatically, slapping her forehead in frustration. "She's been wondering off a lot lately," she tells the man, as if he had asked. "Disappearing down the lane, towards the bus stop, but we can never tell where she runs off to." She pauses, staring up at the sky in a thoughtful manner. "She can't have gotten to the town… It's a long walk… and it's not safe out here…"

Marluxia clears his throat and she snaps out of it.

"Maybe I can help" he offers, "if you can help me. Where are we, exactly? …I know this is the orphanage's land, but what is your town called?"

The girl pulls an unsure face at him, her freckles on her nose bunching together.

"You're not from around here." The stick becomes a brawling staff again. "I could tell from your accent. Are you a foreigner? Mister Hoffman said we are not meant to talk to foreigners. Especially Germans."

Marluxia's lips purse into a line. Oh dear…

"I am defiantly not a German, my sweet" he makes clear. "I'm a traveller, and I mean no one any harm," he tells her. "I'm just lost. That's all." The girl lows her stick again, her expression hard and eyes always on the Nobody. She finds it weird, that he doesn't know where he is. Even after the stories in the newspaper tabloids. Had he not heard heard of the airship? The crash? The missing children?

"…Cardington" she says calmly and flatly. "You're on the edge of the town of Cardington."

"Thank you." Marluxia looks at his new youthful acquaintance for a minute. "…I do believe you never said your name, my little white rose." The girl takes two steps back suddenly. Her eyes were screaming disgust and fury.

"I am not your rose!" she shouts. His knuckles turn to the shade of bone as her grip tightens. "And why in Heaven's name should I tell you my name? You haven't told me yours, nor shown me your bloody face!"

"Such language and rudeness," Marluxia sighs, shaking his head. "I guess this pure white rose has a few thorns to her. Sharp thorns… Even with no parents, you should have some manners…" He trails off and sighs, taking the girl's angered expression. He's not doing any good telling her off like this. "…Tell you what," he says softly, voice like velvet. "If I show you my face and tell you my name, you have to tell me yours. Deal?"

The girl sighs a little and her shoulders relax. "Deal. You first."

The man nods and raises his hands to his hood. He keeps them there. "My name is Marluxia."

The girl blinks at him. "Mar-looks-i-a," she repeats.

"Yes." And the Nobody lowers his hood. The girl stares at him again and chokes as she tries to find something to say about this handsome man with eyes like dark sapphires, creamy skin that is clear and unmarked, and soft, layered hair in the most flamboyant, strange colour of lavender pink. Just what kind of creature was he?She reaches up and tugs lightly one of the tresses framing Marluxia's pleasant face. His head moves with the pull and he chuckles.

"Yes. It's all mine" he tells her, untangling her fingers from his hair. "Now that you know my face and name… what is your name?"

The girl looks at him through her eyelashes. "…Diana."

"Diana? What a darling name" Marluxia smiles, all charm. "Now, my young Diana, shall we go and look for your little friend Wendy." His face turns from friendly to curious as Diana shakes her head. "No? Why not?"

"I can't go off with strangers," Diana says. She starts to back away slowly. "I shouldn't even be talking to you," she hisses. "I should go." She turns around to run away from him, but his strong hand quickly grabs her arm.

"Where do you think are going, Diana?"

"Hey!" The girl shrugs to loosen the grip. She hisses and spits like a trapped cat in a cage. "Let me go! Right now!"

"I can't do that, girl." The man grabs her by the green tie around her neck with his other hand and pulls her closer. Her hockey stick falls to her feet. "How do I know you won't talk about me? Hmm?" His voice has lost all gentle softness, and is now harsh and emotionless. "How do I know you won't tattle on me, Diana?"

"I won't!" Diana screams at him. Her free hand claws at the hand on her tie. "I promise."

"An oath through words alone means nothing" the Assassin says. "Nothing at all."

"I promise. I swear on my soul, on the Rule of the Rose." The girl's hand fists and hits against his chest. "Just leave me be. Please…" She trails off, her breathing deep. Her fingers uncurl and lay against his broad chest. Marluxia sighs. The cat is now out truly of the bag.

Diana stares at her hand on the chest. She is touching the left side of his ribcage, where the heart should be. There is no beat.

"Oh my Lord…What creature are you?" she whispers eerily, her shining eyes wide and wild. Her teeth clench together, and her shoulder are beginning to shake violently. "What are you!"

He doesn't say a word and tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes. She is trying to battering them away with her lashes. I am not going to cry. Not now. Not in front of him. "Do you work for Stray Dog? Are you some form of the Imps?" she cries. "Are you an Imp, come to take me away? For being bad?"

Marluxia's eyes widen. Imps? Could she mean the Heartless? Maybe that is what they are called on this world.

"What do you mean by-?"

"Let me go!"

Diana knees him in the stomach, hard, and Marluxia scoffs, doubling over from the blow. She escapes his clutches and she takes her hockey stick quickly. The wood hits the man's face with a might force, and a loud crack, and he falls suddenly to the ground. He snarls in pain, his hand clutching on his aching jaw. When he looks up, he sees Diana has already jumped to the other side of the gate and is fleeing down the lane, the stick left behind.

"I don't think so, my pet."He gets to his feet and runs in hunt, leaping over the gate in one bound. He covers most of the ground Diana has already run in no time, but he can't catch her. She is too far away, too far forward… He will have to trip her.

The Nobody summons his scythe and plans to trip her with the blunt side, so she falls to the ground.

But it doesn't work out like that.

Diana's scream cuts through the air like an eagle's distress call, and she hits the rocky path below her feet, skidding along the dirt. Her tears fall quicker, and her sobs become loud and strained. She holds her right thigh in pain. Crimson liquid seeps from her blade wound, and through her fingers.

She forces her eyes open and looks up, towards the no-heart man towering over her, his weapon dipping with her blood. This weapon is strange and threatening, and resembles nothing to the fake, wooden swords Xavier and Nicholas play with in make-believe duels. It's taller than Marluxia himself, twisted and bares pink, green and black and gold along its handle and knife edge.

She whines helplessly, shivering with fear and mumbling a prey under her breath. "My Lord in Heaven, please don't let him kill me…"

He doesn't kill her.

With a flourished moment of his fingers, the scythe disappears like a magic card in a puff of black smoke and petals. He knells down by her side. His dark blue eyes are almost black in this dim light. She curls up tighter, still sniffing from the stinging pain in her leg.

"I do not regret my attended actions" Marluxia tells her coldly, "however I didn't mean to slice your leg open, and for that, I am sorry and I fully apologise for that." She can only nod in fear and he continues. "Now that I have your full attention, Diana, and you now know what I am capable of, let's make another deal. If I take you back to your orphanage, do you promise to hold your tongue and act as if we have never met? Do you promise me?"

"Yes. I promise, Marluxia" Diana says quickly, still very scared of him.

The man's warm smile appears again. "Good girl. Now, let's look at your wound."

He moves just enough blood-soaked skirt to examine the cut. It's one thin line, like someone had drawn on her with runny red ink. He chews his lip thoughtfully. "It's not so deep" he tells her, "but it is long… You should be fine. Not too much blood is lost" he chuckles to himself, "…and me without a potion…" Diana doesn't understand his mumbling but dares not to ask him to repeat himself. She keeps her mouth shut.

Carefully, Marluxia scoops up the harmed child in his sturdy arms and carries her down the lane, following the signposts that lead the way. Diana lays still in his embrace, holding the fabric of her dress to the slit of her leg in a hopeless attempt to stop the slugging flow of blood. She rests her head on his shoulder and she can smell his floral aroma on his leather.

"You stink like a bouquet" she grumbles bitterly under her breath and Marluxia chuckles, shaking his head slightly.

"Yes. I get that a lot."

It starts to rain half-way there, and Marluxia raises his hood again, not shadowing his face so much this time and quickens his pace. Diana was only wearing a spring dress, and would likely catch her death of cold. It is a relief when he finally finds a large house made of stone and slate, with a big yard, and a sign on the gate which reads 'Rose Garden Orphanage' in red lettering. He lays Diana on the sheltered doorstep of the house.

"I can't stay" he whispers to her. "No one must know I am here in your town, and the thing you said about these Imps has me thinking. I must investigate it farther."

"…I'm not going to see you again, am I, Marluxia?" Diana asks quietly, and he shakes his head.

"I highly doubt it, my princess."

"Good!" she spits, "I would not wish to see you anyway… and I'm not the Princess" she corrects him. "I'm the Duchess."

Marluxia doesn't understand but plays along. "Of course. It's been a pleasure meeting you, my Duchess." He knocks on the door loudly three times and bows to her. "Good bye, Duchess Diana."

And then he is gone, disappearing nto the rain, through the gate and down the path, never to be seen again, leaving Diana bleeding on the step. She sighs and the pain is unbearable. She knocks on the door loudly herself, praying for someone to answer.

"This has is the worst night of my life…" she mutters bitterly to herself, "and no one is going to believe it… Well, Maybe Meg will, but she believes anything I say- Ah!"She hisses as her leg flinches and throbs with the thought. She thinks. Did Marluxia do something to her? If he can summon a devious weapon from nothing, maybe he can…

The door opens and Martha is standing there, light flooding out from inside. Her wrinkled face turns white. "Diana! There you are. We were so worried. Saints alive! Why are you bleeding?"

The girl blinks up at her slowly. "…I cut myself on barred wire while I was looking for Wendy" she lies.

"Goodness me. You poor thing," the old woman sighs. "Let's get you inside." Diana manages to scrambles up and Martha supports her as she hops inside, away from the cold and rain. Watery blood trickles down her leg into her brown boot. "Miss Wendy came back half-an-hour after you left searching for her," Martha tells her as they hobble up the stairs to the sick bay. "Mister Hoffman gave her a good telling-off and sent her to bed without supper. After what has happen to you, we'll have to ground her…" The elderly maid trails off and looks at Diana. "How did you manage to get back with your leg like this?"

Diana bites the inside of her mouth, thinking fast. Don't say anything about Marluxia. Don't say anything about Marluxia. Don't say anything about Marluxia…

"…I got back," she smiles, "with great difficulty."

Martha stares at her and then laughs, shaking her head. "You are a weird girl, Diana."

Diana giggles, but something lingers at the back of her mind: Marluxia.

She thinks about him as Clara quietly cleans and wraps her wound, and while she bathes in warm water in the tub. He is still in her mind as she dresses for bed and while Mister Hoffman gives her a tiny tumbler of brandy to warm her from the inside. Even while she sits and chats in the cafeteria with the other children, drinking warm milk and eating biscuits, she is really thinking about her attacker, her good Samaritan…

Susan tells a joke and she laughs along with everyone, really focusing on those deep blue eyes haunting her memory. She thinks about talking about him, but every time she does, pain stabs her wound, making her twitch and hiss. She accidentally kicks Thomas at one point, who was just playing with his trains at her feet, due to her shudders. She can't help it.

What did you do to me, Marluxia? Curse me? You horrid, despicable man… If you are even a man at all…

The wound heals after a while, but she keeps wrapping it in cloth, to hide the light scar on her skin. No one can see it under her skirts, but feeling the cloth wrapping there is enough to remind her. To remind her about the oath she promised to keep, and the true Rose King in black.