Tale of Moon and Sun

An elegant and beautifully dressed individual was left chained and hooded at the inner entrance to the mountain palace of the guardian nagas, Shiimoa and Auron. With this royal-robed person was an ornate silken bag that was tied to their waist. A gong to summon the nagas from their inner sanctum was sounded, and the guards who dragged the unfortunate to the palace took flight as soon as the doors to the rest of the palace began to slide apart.

Sliding down the long marbled ramp came the couple. One, a large red-tailed python with black hair and a permanent look of distaste on his visage was the Guardian of Summer and Spring, the great being known by the name of Auron. He wore a heavy golden breastplate over a scarlet toga tucked under a battle skirt. At his side was his lovely life-companion, the Guardian of Autumn and Winter, the lovely Lord Shiimoa. Shiimoa’s soft blue toga fluttered unimpeded behind him, his silver circlet mimicking his facial patterns and catching the light from the torches surrounding the entrance chamber.

Shiimoa was the first to speak to the hooded sacrifice. “Lady Yuna, I am glad that you could make it to our home. Do not be afraid.”

The hooded figure said nothing, curling hands under long sleeves. Auron sized up the offered princess with disdain. “Something doesn’t seem right, Shiimoa,” commented the great crimson snake.

The water naga chuckled softly, unlocking the princess from her restraints. “Nothing ever seems right to you, my love. Come, Lady Yuna, and we shall take your gifts in our throne room.” As Shiimoa spoke, a pair of men appeared at the snakes’ sides – One was a tanned redhead, the other a paler brown haired young man.

“Wakka, Isaaru, take Lady Yuna to the throne room. Make sure she is true to her duty and does not attempt escape,” ordered Shiimoa in a rather pleasant tone. The men nodded and bowed.

“Yes, Lord Shiimoa.”

The walk into the palace was long, slow and torturous. Every step seemed heavier on the young princess, and every corridor was lined with human-sized statues that were all-too realistic to not be unsettling. The servants that Shiimoa had called were adept at their task, and kept their eyes on the virgin offering during the trip. Shiimoa and Auron slithered on ahead, arms linked as if they had just been married. Occasionally, Shiimoa would stop, a hand going to his abdomen, Auron stopping in concern before they would continue their trek. The last leg before the throne room was a march across a great rock-crystal bridge, where swirling magma could be seen below, and a shimmering glacier of ice hung precariously above.

They reached the doors to the throne room, waiting for more human servants to pull the massive double doors aside. The princess tilted her head back to take note of a massive and impressive statute above the doors – a statue of a slumbering warrior-deity.

Once the two nagas had settled into their respective thrones and the princess given time to take in her surroundings, the human servants pushed Yuna forward and onto all fours before the great reptilian beings. Yuna grunted deeply, getting to her knees before the snakes.

Again, Shiimoa was the first to speak. “Now, Lady Yuna, that you have seen our home and witnessed the powers we control, are you ready to receive your fate?”

The princess nodded wordlessly, keeping her hands hidden in the sleeves of her robe as she opened the silk bag, presenting the great serpents with a pair of fine jeweled items. For Shiimoa, there was an ornate silver torque. All its details were smooth and flowing as wind and water do. Embedded in the piece were five glittering blue stones, cut in an oval shape, glowing with a internal source of power. Shiimoa seemed not only pleased, but touched as the small human moved forward to lay the torque in the serpent’s waiting hands.

“These stones… they are most rare… they are Blizzaga Stones, are they not?” asked the naga quietly, running sharp-clawed fingers lovingly over the intricate designs. The princess nodded, then retrieved the second torque from her bag. This torque was sharp and angular, with five crimson Firaga Stones worked into its jagged design.

Auron smirked and took the proffered item graciously. “This is certainly an impressive gift, princess.” The girl nodded and bowed in thanks.

Shiimoa clasped the torque around his collarbone, smiling as he could feel the cool touch of the Blizzaga stones against his pale skin. “Now that you have given us your gifts, m’lady, tell us why you thought it would be a smart idea to try to fool us with a rouse?”

The hooded princess looked back and forth between the two snakes in surprise. Auron’s good eye glared at her as his tail lashed out and seized the princess by the waist. Immediately, small, dark-skinned hands darted out of their sleeves to try to pry their owner free.

Shiimoa slipped carefully from his throne to inspect the princess. Tugging off the hood, the Winter guardian could only chuckle at what was found beneath. It was most certainly not the princess. Under the hood and dressed in feminine royal finery was a young man of impeccable beauty. His silver-white hair offset his sun-darkened skin and honey-brown eyes.

“What was it that gave me away, my lords?” he asked plainly, not making eye contact, but not trying to hide what he was doing either.

Shiimoa tilted the young man’s chin up toward his own face. “Aside from the fact that you are far over dressed for this time of year, I could smell your skin. No matter how much they powdered and perfumed you, Braska could not hide your pheromones from me.”

The young man hung his head slightly, then looked up to Shiimoa again, the blue serpent’s finger still under his chin. His eyes were serious and stern, and he would not be ashamed of what he had done to try to fool the guardians.

“Allow me to explain, my lords, and I shall tell you everything you want to know.”

Shiimoa nodded. “Very well. Auron, let him go. He did bring us such nice gifts.”

Auron grunted and unrolled his coils from the peasant’s body, sneering at the youth with a glower that would normally level another human being. “I knew there was something funny about you.”

The young man took a deep breath, and nodded. “Well, it began when His Majesty, King Braska, received your summons for his daughter…”

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King Braska paced his throne room despite the advisors and the presence of his daughter and her bodyguard, a small Ronso named Kimahri. Clenched in the king’s hand was a reed scroll, which the king had read dozens of times.

“Your Highness, please calm down… this is not a time to be afraid in your daughter’s presence…” advised one of the king’s councilmen. Braska rounded on sandal-heel to stomp up to the man who had spoke and glared death into him.

“I am not afraid. I am disappointed in my city. We are responsible for what happens to the offerings brought to the Naga Palace and yet we let these things slip under the rug. I am disappointed in myself for not making sure they were carried out. Now they demand my daughter!”

“Brother, don’t take it out on your staff. It is no more their fault than it is yours,” advised Shiido, Sultan of the Al Bhed and Braska’s brother by marriage. The Al Bhed king had often been called upon in Braska’s time of need since the queen’s departure for the afterlife.

Braska pressed his index finger and thumb against his eyes. “I know, Shiido, I know. And I am sorry, Maechen,” offered the king to the advisor he had snapped at. The elderly man smiled in return.

“I would feel the same, your majesty, had I a daughter to fret about.”

Braska smiled appreciatively at the sentiment. Princess Yuna stepped to her father’s side and took his arm, drawing out the scroll from his hand and reading it over. She let out a sigh and placed the scroll on her father’s throne before speaking to him.

“Father, it is my duty to do as the guardians wished. I know it is my place to serve my people. I am ready to face punishment for our lack of gratitude to the gods.”

At those words, the king drew in a deep breath and embraced his daughter lovingly. “Thank you, Yuna. Your mother would be proud to hear you so dedicated to the people of Bevelle.”

A guard interrupted their tender moment, escorting in a young man in a worn linen toga. “Your highness, the royal jeweler is here with the gifts for the gods.”

Braska shook his head as he was ready to dismiss the both of them. “Not now, Yaibal, I…” the king stopped himself and retreated from his daughter’s embrace. The king stepped up to the humble jeweler, who immediately dropped to his knees before his lord.

“No, stand, son…” ordered King Braska, watching the youth stand again and rise to his feet, the torques to be delivered stretched across his arms. “What is your name, young man?”

“Baralai, Your Grace,” replied the lad, his eyes not daring to meet with the ocean blues of his king. He bowed respectfully, before straightening his back.

“Baralai, hmm? Tell me, young man, are you a virgin?” asked Braska, beginning to rub at his jaw in thought. The council and Yuna all gasped at Braska’s sudden and brash question.

“Father, you can’t seriously mean…” began Yuna, her voice trailing when her father silenced her with a wave of his hand.

Shiido took a few steps forward, resting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Braska, I know you are desperate, but you know that trying to fool the gods is more than lunacy. They demand your daughter.”

Bevelle’s ruler spun around quickly and glared down at his Al Bhed kinsman. “I’ll remember that, Shiido, when Bahamut comes to claim Rikku.” Braska then, leaving the sultan’s shocked gaze, turned to the young jeweler again. “Answer the question, son.”

The jeweler blushed, hiding his eyes under his silvery bangs. “I… yes, I am, my lord.”

A smile began to crawl across the king’s face. “You are… that is good to know. Not many men your age are… now tell me, how is your loyalty to Bevelle?”

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Shiimoa and Auron seemed awestruck at Baralai’s story. “You mean he put you up to die in his daughter’s place?” grunted Auron, his thick tail slapping at the marble floor in disgust. “Mortals can be so selfish.”

Shiimoa’s hand was over his heart as he looked down at Baralai, ignoring Auron’s smug remark. “Why did you agree to do it, young man? You could be dead any minute, you know.”

Baralai nodded. “I understand this, my Lord. However, I agreed because I did not want to put King Braska through what I had already experienced my entire life.” The jeweler’s words were not sad, but strong and powerful in tone.

Shiimoa raised a blue eyebrow at those words. “And that experience would be?”

“The loss of a family, my Lord. I lost them a long, long time ago, and had lived alone. King Braska just recently lost his wife… I would not want him to go through the pain of having to lose his daughter as well.”

Shiimoa leaned back in his throne, captivated in that heartfelt statement. His eyes watered and he was silenced. Auron, however, was not amused.

“Do you really expect us to believe such a story? You could be any beggar’s son, thrown up instead of Yuna.” The half-python reared and loomed over Baralai. “I don’t believe you can be so noble.”

“Auron, stop. I understand…” said Shiimoa quietly, caressing his slightly bulging abdomen carefully. Tears threatened the corners of the winter naga’s indigo eyes.

“Shiimoa, I can’t believe you…”

“I said, stop, Auron. Would you feel so ready to sacrifice our child if we were placed in the same situation?” asked Shiimoa warily, wincing as the egg his body held shifted in place.

Auron’s stern gaze became subdued with the weight of his lover’s words. “I… you’re right.” The mighty Summer naga took a deep breath and looked down at Baralai, then at the gift the young man had crafted himself.

“This is a fine piece of work, boy. I take it you try to put every ounce of yourself into its creation.”

Baralai bowed and nodded. “Yes, my Lord, I do try my best.”

The warrior naga circled Baralai and looked him over, chuckling soberly at the awkward appearance of the young man in princess garments. “And you are being truthful with your story, that Braska was truly afraid… and that you are willing to do whatever it takes – even die – for the sake of your country?”

The dark-skinned young man nodded. “I am, my Lords. I agreed that my fate shall be set on this day. I am at your mercy.”

Auron’s face lightened with a chiseled grin. “It takes a lot of courage to speak so frankly about one’s own death. Are you not afraid?”

“No, my Lord.”

Auron nodded and continued circling Baralai, letting his coils brush smoothly around the pauper’s legs. Shiimoa noted that Baralai did not waiver or stammer as Auron’s scales slid across his skin. The jeweler stood stock still, letting Auron pass his judgment.

“I see. Such honesty and courage should be rewarded, don’t you agree, Shiimoa?” The red serpent stopped his circling and looked to his lover. The sapphire-scaled naga grinned mischievously, understanding what his husband had in mind.

“Yes, it should be. Come, Baralai, follow us,” ordered Shiimoa, moving from his throne gently as to not jar the yet un-birthed egg.

Baralai nodded and sighed heavily. “I am flattered, my Lords, but I seek no reward for myself, only Bevelle’s continued prosperity and good harvests.” He began following the naga lovers as the pair began to move toward a door at the side of the throne room.

Shiimoa chuckled lightly. “We shall see,” he said, catching Auron’s incredulous gaze at Baralai’s words.

Normally, the great serpents would have dispatched a small team of servants and guards to have Baralai dragged away and imprisoned, but Shiimoa was made curious by Baralai’s perplexing attitude. Auron held onto Shiimoa’s arm as they made their way through a hallway just big enough for the two nagas to move side by side until the space opened into a large treasury.

Gold and silver items ranging from torques to cups, belts to necklaces, coins to statues and all manner of gemstones and precious pearls were piled high in the treasure chamber. It would have made any king’s riches pale in comparison to see an age’s worth of offerings piled and stacked in a glittering disarray like that.

Shiimoa moved to one side, encouraging Baralai forward with a nudge from his tail. The jeweler blinked amid the heavy shine all around him, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the warm glow of finery.

“Baralai, for your honesty, you may pick whatever item you wish from our treasury and keep it for your own,” offered the winter snake, gesturing to the lavish things that had been accumulated.

“Thank you again, my lords, but I…” began Baralai, but found himself cut off by Auron’s angry stare.

“Is Shiimoa’s generosity not good enough for you?” he snapped at the small human.

Baralai shook his head and sighed. “I will choose, my lords.”

The humble young man took his time stepping through the riches, moving carefully as to not slip or upset anything. His hands hovered over all the objects and the young Bevellian could feel the judicious gaze of the naga lords behind him. In truth, none of these fine things interested the young man, but he did not wish to anger the gods nor insult their generous servitors.

Baralai was beginning to give up his choosiness and trying to make himself simply like any item and take it as a gift when a tint of blue caught his eye. Stooping low, Baralai pulled a small mother-of-pearl shell pendant on a simple leather cord from a vase. It was as white as the young man’s own hair, and shaped like a lunar crescent. Baralai smiled as he ran his fingers over the bumpy surface of the shell piece.

“My lords, I have found something…” he said, turning to Shiimoa and Auron with a pleasant smile. “If there is a gift I would receive from your generosity, it would be this.”

Auron raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “You want that? It’s nothing. You could be more powerful than your own king with any item here, you know.”

Baralai shook his head. “No thank you, my Lord. This is all I would ask of you. I’ve never been able to craft a piece of shell without it breaking… please do not think ill of me, my lords.”

Shiimoa chuckled and approached the young man with an open smile. “You are too pure to be human, Baralai. You have shown me – at least,” he said a bit lightheartedly, casting a grin at his gruff lover, who only sneered back at his lovely husband, “that you are humble, wise, brave and honest. We were beginning to think these qualities were lost on humanity.”

Auron took a deep breath in agreement. “I cannot argue with my lover, Baralai. We were beginning to lose faith in your race.”

Baralai blushed as he felt Shiimoa’s large hand cup his cheek like a father would his own child. “You have earned your country’s prosperity this day, Baralai… and restored our faith in your people.”

“Th-thank you, my Lords,” replied Baralai, choked up with emotion. “I am most flattered by your praise.”

Shiimoa smiled. “It is not flattery, it is the truth.” Shiimoa clapped his hands, summoning Isaaru and Wakka once again. “Men, take Baralai to the throne room. He is to be dressed as a hero before he makes his journey home.”

“Yes, Lord Shiimoa,” said the men in unison.

Baralai’s honey brown eyes widened. “I’m not to die, my Lord?”

Auron chuckled as he started following Shiimoa out of the treasury. “Why, do you want to?” The summer serpent was greeted with a vehement head shaking. “Then don’t complain. And put that on. Shiimoa didn’t give it to you to dangle from your hand.” Auron snatched the shell necklace and pulled it over Baralai’s head. The jeweler stroked the crescent adoringly, smiling up at the patron of war.

“Thank you as well, Lord Auron.”

“Feh, don’t thank me. I can’t stand up to Shiimoa much these days.” Baralai hid his mouth in a giggle at Auron’s moment of levity. “Come, we’ll get you better dressed before your return…”

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Once dressed in the guise of a princess, the humble jeweler from Bevelle found himself being swathed in fine white cotton and sturdy sandals that wrapped its laces up to his knees before being tied off. Shiimoa adjusted the length of Baralai’s necklace as soon as his toga was belted around the young man’s waist.

“Baralai, to show our appreciation for your heart, and as proof to your king that we spared your life, you shall be forever marked,” stated Shiimoa, touching his first two fingers to Baralai’s forehead. A soft, icy glow emitted from them, and left in their place was a small white diamond scale. It rested just above the jeweler’s eyebrows, and made his skin tickle with cool sensations.

Baralai smiled up at his lord, being so bold as to hug the grand cobra in thanks for being so kind to him. “My lords, King Braska will be most happy to hear that you forgive our transgressions. If I must make this pilgrimage here again on Bevelle’s behalf, I will make sure that it is good tidings, not bad faith, that brings me to your door again.”

Shiimoa smiled and stroked the young man’s hair. “You are more than welcome to return, Baralai… right, Auron?”

The patron of war smirked and placed a hand on Baralai’s shoulder. “You have done well to better your country’s position, son. Don’t forget we will be watching you now. That mark on your forehead binds you to us and lets us see you wherever we wish. Know that we could see you at any time.”

Baralai nodded and bowed. “Thank you as well, Lord Auron.” The jeweler turned to Wakka and Isaaru with a bow and an unsurpassable smile. “I’m ready to return home…”

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“My lord! My lord!” called a guard, spotting a traveler in white at the gates of the Bevelle Royal Palace. “Someone, open the gates! The sacrifice has returned!”