Tarragon grinned, a feral snarl that would not look out of place in the features of an enraged tiger. His new master was coming today. Dammit, he didn't need a master; the last one might as well not have existed. That Master never came to do anything but fuck, fuck and fuck again. The bastard. Even worse, he came so infrequently that Tarragon could barely even remember his face, not to mention his name.

All he remembered were those nights when that Master would go to the treehouse, sit on the bed, then yell for Tarragon to come. Of course, Tarragon had to obey, or else...

He also remembered those sweaty, disgusting nights with that "Master", a man old enough to be his grandfather, remember those groping, damp hands. that mouth so slimily wet, and that penis that made a shriveled carrot look good in comparison. ::Shit. It was ugly, but it still fucking hurt,:: Tarragon winced to himself. At least that sick bastard was gone now.

But... But now, he had someone else to worry about. And since there was no-one to look out for Tarragon, he would have to look out for himself. A wild gleam came into his eyes as he began to plan. The very least he could do was make sure that _this_ master would treat Tarragon right. :: Dammit, it's only fair that this time... This time I would have some fun too.::

Tarragon lay on the thick pile of furs that made up his bed, his eyes staring out the cut-out window into the verdant greenness of his room. His light green eyes -- cat eyes that would almost glow in the dark -- narrowed in anticipation, his hands creeping up to play with the knotted strands of his hair. Oh, this was going to be fun.

***

"Genrou-sama. Wake up, sir. We're here." An aging butler, his coat and tails impeccable and his accent low and soothing bent over a sprawled figure on the reclining chair of the jets cabin. Yoshino, with a worried frown, shook his master's shoulder, prodding the figure awake.

"hmn.... Five more minutes. Just five more minutes Yoshino." Genrou grumbled as he turned onto his side. Chin length hair, a purple so dark as to be black fell over his face. Pushing back the annoying silky stuff away from his nose, Genrou reluctantly opened his eyes, black eyes still cloudy with sleep and exhaustion. "Fine, fine, I'm up. What a lousy vacation this is going to be if I don't even get a few hours of sleep." He yawned then sat up.

"Yes sir. But, Genrou-sama, we're here, and you still need to change," Yoshino said as he fussed over the black silk trousers and tunic that he held folded over his right arm. "Pardon me, but your clothing is not exactly the most.. umn... isn't exactly very presentable," Yoshino grimaced melodramatically as he took in Genrou's double layer army surplus tank tops, ripped black jeans, a long leather belt wrapped around his waist three times, and scuffed combat boots.

"Ah, Yoshino, you're such a fuss bucket. This is a vacation for shit's sake. I'm supposed to be dressed for comfort. I don't want to wear that," jerking his head at the clothing. "This is good enough. If they don't like it, then tough. Hell, I don't even want to be here, but Grandfather... That old fart." Genrou snorted.

There was no love lost between Genrou and his grandfather, his late Grandfather. The old man had keeled over from a stroke right in the middle of a board meeting, and had died in front of Genrou's eyes. That day, Genrou became the sole owner of everything that Grandfather owned -- from real estate that would amount to close to several hundred million dollars, to corporations to art treasures, and now this key.

Genrou pulled out the key from his back pocket and watched the sun catch light on the large amethyst that dangled from the end along with a thick purple tassel. He played with the tassel, letting the silk cords run through his fingers like water as he thought back to.. hell, to yesterday afternoon. ::Strange how time flies when you're having fun...:: he thought with a caustic smirk.

***

[Yesterday afternoon]

"Genrou-sama, there is one more thing that your Grandfather left you. Will you please stay a minute longer?" The lawyer -- ::whatsisname? Barrington? Berrington? whatever:: Genrou thought -- announced before Genrou could make good his escape.

"Yes? What is it?" Genrou curbed his impatience, only wanting to get out of this stuffy office and think. He just wanted some peace and quiet to _think_ dammit.

"Your grandfather left you this." Berrington? Barrington? pulled out a sealed envelope from a drawer and held it out to Genrou.

"D'you know what's in it?" Genrou took the envelope, a padded brown envelope the taped shut with enough plastic to keep any busy body out. He turned the package over his hands and found his name written out by his Grandfather's shaky hand. His hands closed around the package, felt the sharp outlines of the thing within, and closed his eyes. "Thank you. I will see you tomorrow morning then, to finish up with affairs." With the package still clenched tightly in his hands, Genrou quitted the room. He ignored the tear worked its way down his cheek. ::That old bastard...::

***

Genrou came back to the present, the purple light from the amethyst shining in his eyes. He looked up to see Yoshino staring at him with a distressed look, a pained expression in his eyes as he stared at Genrou's ripped jeans.

::Shit,:: he sighed in frustration. ::What could it hurt?::

"Alright, Yoshino. You win this time. I'll wear the damn dress you're holding. But you'd better pack me another pair of jeans and tanks." Genrou rolled his eyes in disgust. "Why do I even bother arguing with you? You always win when you give me that look.." Genrou struggled out of his tank tops and reached for the silk tunic.

"Thank you, Genrou-sama," Yoshino happily unfolded the silk trousers and held it out to Genrou.

*** Genrou, attired in black silk tunic and trousers, stepped down from the plane and stared at the dark expanse of trees that faced the airstrip. The tower was designed so that it blended into the jungle-like growth, and the airstrip itself was cleverly camouflaged to conceal its presence from unknowing eyes. Genrou took another step away from the plane and stretched, soaking in the heat and the sun, unmindful of the black tunic that absorbed the heat.

"Beautiful weather, eh, Yoshino?" Genrou smiled, knowing that his butler/manservant hated the heat. "And will you look at this place? I can't believe he owns this place. Its gotta be a pretty big island to have its own airstrip..." Genrou turned to his left and admired the huge expanse of blue, where sky and water met and merged. " Wonder where our welcoming committee is..."

Yoshino coughed discreetly, and Genrou turned to find that two new figures were present and standing next to his manservant. Both men were around Genrou's age -- maybe a year older. Both wore matching green tunic and pants made of light cotton, and both had the same facial features-- hard to place with their triangular faces, high cheekbones, rounded chins, and slanted blue eyes. Both were dark haired, one with long, silk-smooth length that probably reached to his waist, while the other wore his curly mane touching his shoulder. Other than their hair, they looked exactly the same.

The two figures bowed as Genrou approached, and did not look up until Genrou was standing in front of them. With easy grace, both straightened and looked Genrou in the eye.

"Welcome, Master Genrou. We have awaited your arrival with great anticipation." The long haired beauty said, his mellifluous tenor tones a soothing song in Genrou's ears.

"I am Shiira, and this is my twin Dhocal." Shiira indicated the curly haired man next to him, who smiled a welcome. " We will be your guide to the palace."

"Your servants are most welcome to stay as long as they like," Dhocal murmured, his almost bass tone a surpirse coming from such a frail figure. He waved towards Yoshino, the pilot and the copilot, a graceful gesture of inclusion.

"Thank you," Genrou said in tones of utmost politeness, remembering years of training. He looked at Shiira and asked curiously, "What is this place?"

"Did not Master Masao tell you of the palace?"

"No. His final note only contained directions as to how to get here, and this key," Genrou pulled out the silver key and showed it to the twins.

"We shall explain on the way, then." Dhocal said, and indicated the two limousines that would take them to the palace. "Please, Genrou-sama, come with us." Dhocal and Shiira bowed again and motioned for Genrou to enter the first limo. Yoshino, the pilot and co-pilot entered the second.

***

"So. Tell me about this island." Genrou leaned back into the padded embrace of the carseat. He inhaled the familiar scent of leather and relaxed further. Somehow, illogical it may be, he felt perfectly safe in this place. Even the fact that Yoshino and the others were in a separate car did nothing more than make Genrou curious. "So. Why the separate cars?"

Dhocal smiled and answered, "Please, do not worry. They are going to a separate wing of the palace, for only the Master may enter the main building. But they will be taken care of. For as long as you stay, they will be treated with utmost respect and care."

"As to your question of where and what this place is..." Shiira continued, "This is the palace. Or to be more precise, one of the many palaces in existence; there are many other such places scattered all over the world." A sly smile crossed the twins faces. "I know that there is such a palace in a desert, made of white marble and housing six rooms."

"I don't understand." Genrou was confused, ::rooms? palaces? DESERTS? what the hell does this have to do with this island??::

Dhocal bowed his head in apology. "We apologize, we are not making things very clear, are we?" Dhocal shot an exasperated glance at his twin -- who shrugged -- and continued. "The key you hold opens the door to this entire island--"

"But.. But what's behind THIS door?" Genrou sut in. He was getting impatient. All this circuitous story telling wasn't getting anywhere near the point. "What's the point??"

"The key opens the door to this palace. And behind the door is your slave." Dhocal announced with a calm smile.

Genrou stared at Dhocal with a flabergasted expression. ::A what? A WHAT??::

"Are you crazy? Is this some kind of idiotic joke my grandfather set up? That bastard!" Genrou seethed even as he reached for the door handle of the car.

"Genrou-sama, please! The car is still moving!" Shiira reached out to grab Genrou's hands.

"This isn't a joke, Genrou-sama! Please wait till we get to the palace! Please!" Dhocal sounded very upset, a fact that gave Genrou immense amounts of pleasure. Finally, he was getting some normal reactions rather than the fucking frustrating enigmatic sage act.

"Fine. I'll wait. And what the fuck are you talking about, a SLAVE? Haven't you ever heard of violation of human rights?"

An almost cynical smile accompanied Shiira's sardonic statement of "Money, Genrou-sama. Money is vulgar, yet enough of it can pave the way to achieve anything one can come up with. To own a key is not cheap, Genrou-sama. And to own the Purple Key is nothing to laugh at. After all, you _own_ this entire island and everything on it."

Genrou narrowed his eyes. "Even you two?"

Dhocal smiled placidly. "Even we two."

"God, what have I gotten into? Grandfather, this is all your fault!" Genrou groaned out loud.