Tale of Moon and Sun

“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!”

King Braska was roused from a deep sleep by guards rushing into his room. The night was lit up by the full moon’s glow. Everything beneath the lunar shine glowed with an ethereal light. Baralai stood before the gates to Bevelle’s palace as he waited for the gate to be opened upon his return. Braska raced through the halls, barely conscious of movement, only that there was an urgent need for him to be up.

“What is this?” he grumbled at his guards as they flanked him from all sides. “What are they saying about the sacrifice? Are they all mad?”

As Braska was brought to the outpost where the guards had first spotted Baralai approaching the gates to the castle, his soldiers greeted him in royal salute.

“None of that now, men… what is the meaning of all this?” he grumbled, rubbing at his tired eyes like a waking child. “Who called for this alarm?”

“I did, your highness!” piped up the offending soldier, a thin young man who seemed out of place in a royal guard. “The name is Clasko, your highness!”

“Clasko…” grunted Braska, reeling from the cadet’s enthusiasm. “Are you aware that it is the middle of the night? Why are you upsetting my palace with such a story? The sacrifice can not be here…”

“There he is! My lord, look!” exclaimed another guard, pointing over the edge of the turret.

Braska leaned against the stone walling, leaning down to look at Baralai, who stood patiently at the gate. The night time breeze from the nearby river caught his new toga, making it flutter lightly. Braska felt his heart pause with just as much shock as the expression on his face.

“If he is not a ghost, bring him to the royal throne room. I need to know why he is back,” ordered Braska, turning to head to meet his guards behind him. “Watch all hallways,” he ordered. “This may be a spirit, come to claim vengeance on us. Be on guard men.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” exclaimed the six guards at once. As the guards departed and began swarming the palace to protect it from a spiritual assault, Braska’s child appeared with her protector, Kimahri Ronso, in the hall leading to the throne room.

“Father, what is the cause of all this noise?” asked Yuna, taking her father’s arm. The King shook his head solemnly.

“Someone believes that jeweler returned from the Naga’s Palace. I’m taking precautions to make sure he is not a spiritual threat.”

Yuna chuckled lightly. “Then hadn’t you make sure he is not also made impure, Father?”

Braska’s eyebrows quirked oddly and he shook his head. “What do you mean by that, Yuna?”

Kimahri pointed to one of the large brass mirrors that hung in the throne room as they entered. Braska’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his nude, sculpted torso. The king let out a needed laugh.

“I suppose you are right…” jested the king, looking at himself in the mirror. “I ran out of my room in such a hurry… th-thank you…” stammered the Bevelle ruler as Kimahri parted with his large fur cloak. “And I shall keep warm with it as well…” joked Braska, taking a moment to make sure he did not look an utter mess as he took his seat on his throne, Yuna seating herself at his side.

“Yuna, I wish you would not be here for this…” suggested the nobleman to his daughter.

“Father, I want to make sure he is all right as well. He may have saved my life today. And all our lives. I want – ”

Their conversation was cut short as eight armed and powerful guards came into the palace, Baralai walking between them all. The front three men parted to either side, making a small corridor for the jeweler to approach the royal family. The young man did so without hesitation, taking to one knee with his head bowed before the king and princess.

“Your Highness, Lord Braska, and Your Majesty, Lady Yuna… I bring good news from our Naga Lords. They have forgiven our transgressions and will bless us with prosperity.”

Braska was skeptical toward such good news in a matter of only a few days. “You say they forgive us? Where is your proof, young man?” he demanded in a tone that surprised everyone, even Yuna, with its firmness.

Baralai looked up to the royal family, his eyes staying away from theirs. “It is upon my face, my King. The Naga have bestowed their mark upon me.” Upon such a statement, Braska was to his feet, holding Baralai’s face to the light. The jeweler’s eyes snapped shut as he was examined under the reflected torch lights.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” queried the young peasant.

Braska still seemed apprehensive on the young man’s story. “Someone get Maechen. In the meantime, young man…”

“Baralai,” interrupted Yuna, smiling at the man who saved her life, though he missed it because of Braska’s proximity.

“Baralai… tell us, how did you escape the Naga Lords alive?”

The guard Yaibal moved through the palace as Baralai recounted his journey to the colossal mountain palace of the naga guardians and his extraordinary journey deep inside the palace, not skimping on a single detail, right down to the incredibly realistic human statues and the color of Shiimoa’s eyes. Maechen was brought before Bevelle’s monarch just as Baralai was explaining the mark on his forehead.

“So then, this is the mark of the Naga?” asked Braska as Maechen tottered closer. “Maechen, can you confirm that this is what Baralai says it is?”

The elderly man brushed his hands together, taking Baralai’s face in his hands. “Do not worry, young man. I only need to draw you closer. My eyes are weakening…” said the councilman as he ran his fingers over the small bump fixed to the youth’s face.

“Gods above…” murmured Maechen as he realized what the young man said was true. “You got this from the guardian nagas?” asked the elderly man of Baralai.

The comely young adult nodded, his silver hair shifting in the breeze. “They rewarded me with their presence for as long as I remain loyal to them. I plan on never letting myself out of their gaze.”

Maechen took the king aside, looking most surprised indeed by this news. “Your highness, that truly is the Mark of the Naga. He has been both blessed and bound to our guardians. He could attempt to hold dominion over us with this power… my lord, I implore you, do not take his presence lightly.”

Braska looked over his shoulder at Baralai, who was watching them with a face of bewilderment. “So, what do you propose we do?”

“There is nothing more we can do, sire, other than treat him with as much respect as we would a god. Ask him what he requests… perhaps he has not yet realized his power,” offered Maechen, touching his mouth nervously.

Braska turned and strolled quite regally to Baralai’s side. The young man greeted him with a bow. “I hope everything is all right, sire. If everything is as it should be, I would like to return to my home. I am very tir-”
Braska cut him off with a grand gesture. “Nonsense. You may stay here in the palace. As a reward for your heroism to Bevelle, you may have whatever you desire, and I shall see that it is done.”

Baralai thought for a few moments, unaware of the tension building in the room as he did so. When he finally spoke, his words broke the terseness of the moment with the jeweler’s continued humility.

“My lord, I request only that a home be built for beggars and other homeless, and that you continue to reign with all your wisdom that you possess.” The smile that punctuated Baralai’s statement was hopelessly honest and kind.

Braska nodded and clapped his hands together. “Yes, it shall be done in your name. As well, we will hold a grand celebration for you…” the monarch started returning to his throne when he was halted by a coy statement:

“Do not hold it for me, my lord, but the prosperity of Bevelle. My country’s happiness means more to me than anything. I am proud to be able to be in your service, your Majesty.”

Braska was moved by those words, and turned around to face Baralai. “Son, look me in the eyes.”

“My Lord?”

“It is all right, Baralai. I want to look into the face of our country’s savior…” spoke the king quietly, approaching the young man. Braska’s ocean blue gaze met Baralai’s golden brown eyes. The king placed his hands on the jeweler’s shoulders and watched, unblinkingly, as he tried to read the depths of the young man’s eyes. A small smile passed Braska’s lips and he nodded to Maechen.

“Agreed. The celebration shall be held in three days. Anyone, when Sultan Shiido wakes, tell him the good news. He’ll want his own children in on the celebrations.” Braska pulled Baralai into an embrace. “Son, you have saved your people… you saved my daughter. I am in your debt.”

Baralai returned the hug and backed away with his sweet smile. “My lord, it was my duty, and I would have done it all the same if I had to again.”

______________________________________________________________________

Days passed as food and decorations were gathered in the heart of Bevelle for the grand celebration. As per Baralai’s request, stores of food were given to beggars and homeless families as part of the country’s festivities.

Baralai had been given quarter as the King’s guest, and was presented with a set of jeweler’s tools with mother-of-pearl handles made specifically as a gift for the King’s gratitude. The young man was also given an entire wardrobe of clothes, as well as shoes and accessories that could very well keep him clothed everyday for two months without repeating a single item before they all needed to be washed.

The night of the celebration was a grand festival. The Al Bhed royal family had been gathered at the palace, as well as the Emperor and Empress of Zanarkand in a unifying gala event. Noblemen and women came from any of the three countries, all wanting to see and meet the young man marked by the gods. After an announcement ceremony and speeches dedicated to Baralai’s honor took up more than two hours of the evening, Baralai finally managed to slip away from the crowds to get some air.

Leaning against a balcony overlooking the Moonflow river, Baralai watched as pyreflies danced across the water’s surface before disappearing into the night again. He was swathed in fine white silk and cuffed with silver bracelets; earrings and a circlet of the fine metal and pearls crowded his head. Furthermore, they were creations not of the youth’s own hands. He felt out of place at the celebration, but he would not stop their praises. It was what they wanted, and he would accept their thanks with a grain of salt. Carefully, he plucked his given fineries off one at a time until all that remained was the pendant the nagas had gifted to him, tucking the jewelry into a fold of his short toga until he could sneak into his room.

“So, you’re the man that everyone in the known world is talking about,” came a smooth voice behind the young man. Baralai spun around quickly, tilting back over the edge of the balcony as his surprise caught him off balance. The owner of the voice darted forward and caught Baralai in a single, powerful arm, pulling him back before he fell too far.

“Heh, heh, I didn’t mean to scare you over the railing. Forgive me… I am Gippal.”

Baralai’s heart pounded as he stared up into a lone green eye. His face flushed dramatically as he scrambled out of Gippal’s grip. “M-my Lord, forgive me… Had I seen it was you…” he stammered, beginning to bow before the second prince of the Al Bhed people.

Gippal stopped Baralai before he could complete the bow. “No… it is I who should be bowing before you, Savior.” The prince smiled handsomely, and only then did Baralai notice the leather patch that covered the blonde’s right eye.

“P-pl-please, y-your Majesty… I am n-no sav-” he was cut off and flustered as Gippal dropped to one knee and began kissing the knuckles of Baralai’s right hand. In his moment of muted awe, Baralai noticed how the prince looked. He wore long red jacket emblazoned with gold thread patterns and a black sash. Red pants covered his legs and the jacket’s lack of sleeves caught the jeweler’s eye and caused him to take a good look at Gippal’s strong brass-tanned arms.

“M-my-l-ord I… am n-not a savior… I was only…”

“Shhh…” Gippal rose to his feet and placed a finger on Baralai’s trembling lips. “You were only doing your duty, right?”

Baralai found his tongue had no feeling and only simpered up at Gippal, nodding. //Why am I acting this way? I’m embarrassing myself… he’s so handsome… but he’s out of my caste entirely… stop getting your hopes up, Baralai…// The jeweler’s thoughts mingled and argued with each other as Gippal slipped his arms around the silver haired man’s waist. Gippal drew Baralai against his strong chest, making the jeweler shiver in fright and excitement.

“I've seen the beauty of the desert at night... how the sands blow ever-so-gently across one's feet... the millions of sparkling diamonds in the sea of blackness above. The pale moonlight's glow as it passes over the shimmering cacti... and none of it compares to the beauty in front of me.” Baralai felt his hand be brought up to Gippal’s full mouth again and be kissed gently. “I had heard that you were a lovely sight, but mortal tongues do not do you any justice.”

“Th-thank you my lord…” stammered the young hero, shaking like a leaf. “I… I have heard many tales of how handsome you are as well… B-but I never thought I would be done the honor of your c-company…”

***********************

“Auron, do you see this?” asked Shiimoa, watching a gazing crystal as Gippal wooed Baralai with lavish compliments. The two Naga laid among their multitude of large cushions that served as their bed. Shiimoa was spying on Baralai to make sure he was all right, and he did not like what he saw.

“So? Baralai is getting attention. What is wrong with that? You love attention, I might add – ow!” Auron’s commentary was cut short as Shiimoa hit his nude lover with his tail.

“Baralai isn’t used to this… I can tell… and this Prince Gippal seems too attracted to Baralai to not have… well, to not seem to be a heartbreaker,” said Shiimoa with worry in his voice.

Auron grunted and rolled his coils around his husband. “Shiimoa, you have an egg inside you. Stop trying to mother everything else. Baralai is an adult and if this Gippal turns out to be a heel, he’ll get his in the end. Now stop watching that thing and lay down. You’re going to make yourself exhausted.”

Shiimoa chuckled as his gazing stone darkened. “You exhaust me, my love…”

***********************

Meanwhile, the guardian nagas were not the only ones spying on Gippal and his object of affection. Gippal’s older brother, Aniki, was also watching them from behind a pillar.

“That fool thinks he can have whatever pretty face he desires without taking a bride… I won’t let him shame our father like this…” grunted the eldest prince, slipping into the crowd to find Shiido.

Shiido was talking and sharing anecdotes with other nobles when Aniki pulled him aside. “Father, a word…”

“What is it, Aniki? I’m busy entertaining Braska’s friends… I was just telling them…”

“Later, Father, this is urgent. Gippal is trying to shame you with another young man again…” he whispered in their home tongue. Shiido looked beyond Aniki as the younger Al Bhed pointed to where his brother stood. Shiido’s mood sobered quickly at the sight of Gippal clinging to Baralai.

“This will be the last time he makes these trysts… I’m sick of his games. I will take care of your brother… thank you for alerting me, Aniki,” said Shiido with a nod of his head. “I’m going to speak to your uncle…”

Aniki smirked as he watched his father slip into the crowd, then his gaze became hate filled as he turned a bitter gaze to Gippal and Baralai.

The younger prince simply would not let Baralai escape. “Baralai, do I make you nervous?” he asked with a casual grin.

Baralai nodded. “Y-you do, my lord. Your compliments are far too kind…” he offered gently, breaking loose of Gippal’s grip. Yet that did not sway the prince from his advances.

“Very well…” he reached to his hand and withdrew a golden ring with a sun symbol emblazoned on it. “Take this ring as a token of my affection and gratitude for saving my cousin from an ill fate…” Before Baralai was able to argue, the ring was slipped onto his left ring finger, making the jeweler blush harder.

“This is too gracious, my Lord…”

“Please, call me Gippal. I hear that you are a very meticulous artisan. I hope that ring lives up to your standards, my lovely rose.” Gippal’s smile made Baralai smile as he began to relax.

“My lord… this gift…here…” Baralai pulled the shell necklace from his neck and pulled it over Gippal’s head. “Take this as a return of my… affections.”

Gippal’s smile was short lived as he heard Shiido call everyone to attention. The room turned as Shiido stood atop a table in the center of the royal ballroom, swaying still from the effects of wine and merriment.

“I have a great announcement to make… brother, join me up here!” he called joyously, chuckling heartily as Braska carefully pulled himself up to Shiido’s side, a bit tipsy himself.

“Brother, I have a wonderful announcement to make to you…” began Shiido, throwing an arm across Braska’s shoulders.

“And what is that, dear brother of mine?” slurred the king of Bevelle in return.

“I have just found out, though through the shyness and words of his older brother, that my son Gippal has decided to marry.” The sultan tipped back a small flagon of wine as Braska replied to him with laughter.

“Finally? I thought the day would never come!” Braska’s drunken words were met with much laughter. Gippal was the only one not laughing.

“Yes! And I’ve come to find out that he desires to marry your sweet baby girl, Princess Yuna!”

Braska’s grin widened even more. “You don’t say? Then everyone, let us celebrate a wedding to come!”

The room filled with merry cheers and raised goblets, the party surging in an uproar caused by the royal announcement. Aniki pulled his father from the table top.

“What are you doing, you old fool?! Yuna was to be mine!” Shiido pushed away his oldest son. “Well, you shoulda said something… now it’s too late… and I don’t want Gippal to shame us anymore than he has…”

Aniki stood there seething as the sultan blended back into the crowd, his fists balled against his own sleeveless black jacket. “We will see what happens, father…”

Gippal shook his head. “That old drunk… when will he learn I don’t want a princess? Did you hear that foolishness, Baralai? Baralai?” Gippal turned around, looking and wondering where the jeweler suddenly disappeared to.

Baralai had left Gippal’s side, heartbroken and shaking his head. “Outside of my caste…” he repeated to himself, hiding behind a statue of Auron. His hand laid over his heart, even though he still wore Gippal’s ring. He turned the item around on his finger so that the sun was hidden inside his palm.

“He outside my caste… and I’m nothing to him.”