Music of the Storm

Chapter 01

By Amidala

Konbanwa, minna-san!!! Well, I am definitely loving all you who have reviewed my story =^-^=
Saaa ... this isn't much longer than the first chapter, but the story isn't meant to be that
long, either.
Enjoy!
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Makoto sighed. Nine years. Nine years she had been a servant to Prince Quatre, now the King.
She could recall her earlier times at the palace, the fun and joy of being alive. She had been
forced to learn a new dialect of her own language within a few months, or she would never be able
to set foot outside the palace. The king had died less than two years later, suddenly making
Quatre the king and his mother a widowed queen. Dalraa had been a kind and loving old woman,
whom Makoto had valued as a grandmother, but she had died not a week after the king, leaving a
then six years old child from an enemy tribe in the hands of a jealous, cruel taskmaster.
"Makoto! gha' bi! Why are you standing there day dreaming?! You have chores and by Allah,
you will do them!" shouted Saia.

Makoto sighed again. Think of the devil, and she always followed.
"naam, Saia. I will do them, when I am told what to do," she replied politely.

The young woman sneered down at the 13 year old girl.
"You know your chores by now, girl. Go wash the Great Hall floor, then make sure Lord
Quatre's table is ready for this breakfast. Aswad Naar gha' bi."

Now Makoto bristled at the insult to her tribe. She knew that the Aswad Naar and the Akhdar
Gabal were enemies, and she did not see the reason why she was not thought of as Akdar Gabal.
Rather, nearly everyone in the palace, for she was never outside the palace for long, stayed
clear of her because they knew she had come from the Aswad Naar.
"naam, Saia. I will go now."
"See that you do. I want that floor immaculate."

With that, the new head of Quatre's servants turned on her heels and swept down the halls.
Makoto waited until she was well out of hearing range and growled.
"boos teezee, Saia. You will be sorry one of these days, and it will not have anything to
do with me injuring you."

With that, Makoto turned on *her* heel and those who passed her knew they could have sworn that
she was floating.
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"Lord Quatre! You *must* see to reason. Most men your age have already taken wives. Lord
WuFei is happily married to the Lady Rei, even Lord Heero has taken the Lady Ami for a bride, and
you their king! You must produce an heir!"

The blond king of the Akhdar Gabal sighed and stifled a yawn. He was quickly growing tired of
his advisors pestering him to marry any girl they threw at him, just to produce an heir.
However, he was just too polite to tell them to f*ck off, no matter how much he would have
enjoyed it. Sitting straight and tall, he held up a hand to stop the complaints.
"I shall choose a bride when I am ready for one. As of now I have no wish to marry, nor
do I see anyone I could love."

The advisors all wanted to face vault, while the two guards Trowa and Duo were ready to fall over
laughing. They knew that the young king would never agree to an arranged marriage, tradition be
damned! The two boys had been made Quatre's personal guards by the king after the girl from the
Aswad Naar tribe had been taken in, and Quatre had become close friends with the two, often
confiding in them.
<I still don't know what happened to that girl. I remember that she was put with my
personal attendants, but I haven't seen her since.> he thought to himself before speaking, "May I
remind you that, as King, I have the right to choose when and whom I marry. My father did not
arrange any marriage for me before his death, so do not lie. I will have my heir, when I have
found my love."

The advisors sighed and nodded, but would not admit defeat.
"My Lord Quatre," one began, "You do not even agree to meet any of the noble women of our
tribe. How do you propose to find love, if you do not *know* any one?"

The blond nodded.
"That is true. Perhaps if I were let out of the palace without guards, I would meet
someone."
"Never! Lord Quatre, you must understand that it is for your own protection that you have
bodyguards."

Each advisor agreed, and Trowa placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder for support. Duo smiled down
at him from his other side. The young king grinned inwardly, delighted to know that he had such
loyal friends. The old men talked amongst themselves, before apparently coming to some
conclusion to their dilemma.
"Lord Quatre," the eldest man started, "I've an idea. Would you not agree to a ball? We
shall invite all the eligible women from our tribe and those of our allies. There you shall be
able to meet them and perhaps find your ... love."

Quatre was startled by the suggestion, but Duo gave him the 'go ahead' nudge. Trusting his close
friend, Quatre nodded.
"Very well. You may arrange this ball."

The advisor nodded.
"There shall be three held in succession, and by the end of the third, you must chose
your bride, or we shall chose one for you. Lord Quatre, you may be king, but you are also
fourteen. And if you will not listen to us, we will take control."

Now the young monarch knew why Duo had told him to agree; he was pushing his advisors' patience
*much* too far to the limit. With a sigh and a small prayer of thanks to Allah for a friend like
his guard, Quatre relented.
"I understand. It shall be done."
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Makoto sighed and continued scrubbing at the floors, looking tiny and lost in her ragged dress.
It was not that she was purposely dressed in rags to keep her from being noticed, but that she
could not get her hands on any materials to make a proper outfit. Saia used them all for herself
and the others, and she had to make due with the leftovers. Despite her being a lowly servant
to the king now, she had once been of the royal family of the Aswad Naar. Nobody in the palace
knew this, of course, or she would have long been dead.


The very thought of the young prince, who had most likely saved her life, made her tingle. She
knew that she was in love with him, she had been for a very long time. Makoto had all but given
up hope in ever reaching him, however, it seemed this ball would give her the chance.


Scrubbing harder now, as if that would make her problems go away, Makoto briefly wondered if
singing would make the prince love her like it did in fairy tales.
"If only this were a fairy tale and I could sing," she mumbled, "I could be his
bride ... "

~Owari, chapter 2~

How'm I doing? Hope you like it, and please continue to review!!! As for the random Arabic words
that you may see in the story, I have no idea if the meanings are correct or not. If you speak
Arabic and would like to help ... please contact me: chocofill@aol.com