Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Book of Days ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Book of Days - Chapter One

Author: Cherry Blossom

Notes: Shkoder, Cemandia, the Bardic Hall, the kigh and anything else dealing with the book Sing the Four Quarters doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Tanya Huff. And incidentally, Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me either. Neither does the song Book of Days, or the translation of La Sonadora, which belongs to Enya. All I own is this story. 3+4, 1+2, 5+M, and other various pairings. Totally AU.

~*~*~*~*~

One day, one night, one moment,
my dreams could be, tomorrow.
One step, one fall, one falter,
east or west, over earth or by ocean.
One way to be my journey,
this way could be my Book of Days.

No day, no night, no moment,
can hold me back from trying.
I'll flag, I'll fall, I'll falter,
I'll find my day may be, Far and Away.
Far and Away.

One day, one night, one moment,
with a dream to believe in.
One step, one fall, one falter,
and a new earth across a wide ocean.

This way became my journey,
this day ends together, Far and Away…
~*~*~*~*~

CHAPTER ONE

Blood.

It flowed out of the ground like water, like the very earth had been wounded. Red, and thick, and coppery; the smell of it made his eyes water and he willed his body to move away from the dark liquid as it crept closer to his bare feet.

But he couldn't move, couldn't force himself to so much as blink and the blood kept on flowing, slowly spreading and staining the ground. It looked much like Aryuse's prized strawberry wine had when he'd spilled a jug on the carpet last Quarter Festival. Only the smell…

He opened his mouth, maybe to shout for help, maybe to sing a plea to the kigh, although he had no idea how to fix an injury to the earth itself. But the words wouldn't come and the blood was now at his toes, licking a crimson trail up the arch of his foot and enclosing around his ankles.

//Get up.//

`I'm trying to.'

//Get up.//

`Center it, I can't!'

"Get up. Quatre get up. You're going to be late."

A pair of sleepy blue eyes blinked open and Quatre focused fuzzily on the softly curving lips that were poised just above his own.

"Come one now, I now you hate mornings. But you can't sleep in today, you'll miss the ceremony and Hilde will never forgive you. It's her first solo," the lips said, brushing over his own in a soft kiss.

At the contact, Quatre came fully awake and smiled up at his lover, placing his hands around the warm body above him and pulling it closer, deepening the kiss. A few minutes later they parted, breathlessly.

"Maybe Hilde won't mind if you miss the beginning."

Quatre laughed and sat up abruptly, trying to ignore other parts of his anatomy which had recently `woken up'. "Now Trowa, weren't you the one trying to get me out of bed just a few seconds ago?" he teased, swinging his legs around to the side of the mattress and stepping down onto the floor.

Trowa watched his lover comb long fingers through tousled blonde curls and pouted. "I was wrong. Come back to bed."

"Sorry, no can do. And you'd better get up too. Sunrise isn't that far off and Sally will be expecting us in the Hall soon. Plus I want some breakfast before we go. Can't Sing on an empty stomach, after all."

Trowa groaned and rolled out of bed gracefully, flinching as his warm feet touched the cold floor. "How can you think of eating so early in the morning?" he inquired, grabbing a pair of breeches out of the dresser that were not as grass stained as the rest he owned.

Quatre pulled a bright blue robe out of the closet and pulled it on over his shift, wincing at the scratchiness of the wool against his skin. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he lectured, trying to tie the elaborate jeweled belt that was supposed to circle his waist and not having much success. "It provides fuel for your brain and strength for your body and-center it-it makes you happier and healthier throughout your day-Damn! Why won't this unenclosed belt attach?"

Trowa moved over to his lover and took the belt from his hands. "Here, let me do that. You've got it all hooked together wrong…"

While his lover fiddled with the belt, Quatre was content to just lean against the strong frame. Absentmindedly, he began to run his fingers across the other man's shoulders, marveling at the softness of the skin and the hard muscle beneath it. Trowa froze at the touch and then hissed out a soft breath of air.

"Stop that right now or we're never going to make it out of this room and you'll never get your damn breakfast," he warned.

Quatre pouted playfully. "I thought you liked it when I touch you," he whined, still tracing the outline of Trowa's biceps.

"I do," Trowa replied, gritting his teeth and trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. "Just not while we're in a hurry. So you'd better stop trying to tempt me, you devil child-Aha. There, that's done now." Trowa hooked the belt into place and gave it a satisfying little pat.

"Devil child? But Trowa, you always said I was your little angel," Quatre said, trying to adopt a hurt expression but failing miserably.

Trowa smiled and dropped a kiss on the upturned forehead. "Ah, but all devils were once fallen angels, remember?"

Quatre aimed a mock punch at Trowa's shoulder and bounced away to peek at himself in the mirror. The robe was really too big for him but it was the same colour as his eyes and he supposed it gave him a rather mystic look. The belt was gold lapis, quite heavy and awkward, and studded with aquamarines and sapphires in a pattern that vaguely outlined a cloud-like figurine blowing a puff of air into the sky. All very ceremonial.

And gaudy. I don't see why I can't wear my breeches and tunic. It would be much more comfortable, not to mention practical. I can hardly walk in this get-up. And I look like a monk.

Quatre made a face at his reflection and turned to find Trowa pulling a simple green tunic on over his breeches and fasten the leather belt around his waist. It wasn't nearly as fancy as what Quatre was wearing but the sleeves were cream coloured and puffed out nicely around Trowa's arms and there was a light gold trim around the collar of the tunic. In fact, Trowa looked like a young lord, if one could ignore the faded grass stains that circled the knees of his loose breeches.

"Don't you have anything that's not grass stained, Trowa?"

"No, sorry. I'll have to get Shaina to wash them all out for me with that new soap she got from the trader's last week."

"Not even the pair I bought you last week?" Quatre asked, although he already knew the answer.

Trowa looked sheepish. "I'm sorry Kat. I Sang a fertility for the Darlians' garden yesterday and didn't even realize I had them on at the time."

"Don't be sorry," Quatre sighed. "I know how it is with you and earth kigh. I'm just glad I don't ruin all my clothes when I Sing air and fire."

"But you do always manage to get soaked whenever you Sing water."

"Don't remind me."

Trowa tried to brush back the fall of auburn hair that floated down over his face but, seeing as the struggle remained hopeless, he quickly gave up and let it alone. He could never get his hair to obey his wishes anyway.

"We'd better go, it's quarter to five," Trowa remarked, picking up his small silver flute from the case it rested in.

"Quarter to five!" Quatre exclaimed, diving for his hairbrush and pulling it frantically through his own unruly locks. "We really will be late. Come on Trowa. Hilde will kill us if we miss her debut."

Trowa chuckled as he watched his lover whirl across the room, grabbing sheets of music with one hand and dragging the brush through his hair with the other. "I guess this means we'll have to skip breakfast after all?" he said innocently.

"Oh there's time for a quick bite," Quatre amended and swept out the door towards the kitchen while Trowa followed behind at a slightly slower pace.

~*~*~*~*~

"I see you finally made it," called a teasing voice as Quatre entered the main hall at a dead run, a piece of toast still stuck in his mouth.

The place was rather full for so early in the morning. Really only the novices from their class and those taking part in the ceremony had to be there, but knowing Hilde, she had probably told everyone one she knew to come and watch her first solo. Quatre walked up to Albek, one of his classmates who loved practical jokes and Sang a pretty good fire, which were two things that did not go together well. Or at least, not for the person he happened to be playing a joke on that day.

"Sod off, Albek. There's still fifteen minutes to sunrise, I haven't missed anything," Quatre retorted around a mouthful of bread and butter. Swallowing quickly he looked around the hall for the one face he was expecting to see. "Where's Hilde?"

Albek shrugged and straightened the collar of his robe uncomfortably. The bright red fabric clashed horribly with the considerably lighter orange of his hair and he had grown taller since he had last put on that robe. The sleeves only went down to his forearms.

"She's probably reading her music for the hundredth time. She was so nervous about this morning that she didn't eat a thing a breakfast. But then, you wouldn't know since you were rather late to the kitchens…"

Quatre sent the boy a glare and Albek grinned widely. "Boy, you're sure grumpy this morning. What's the matter? Did Trowa keep you up all night?"

Quatre blushed hotly and was about to flee in embarrassment when a warm arm draped over his shoulder and a familiar body melded against his backside.

"That's right," said Trowa, his voice a seductive baritone. "Got a problem?"

"Oh no," grinned Albek. "I'm just riddled with envy. Chrsyia's been gone Walking for a month now and I haven't gotten any since she left. Ever think of sharing the wealth, Quatre?"

Quatre's face went as red as Albek's robe as the boy leered at him suggestively.

"Now Albek, you know I'm not very good at sharing," Trowa lectured. "Besides which, I don't think Chrysia would appreciate you dallying with me and Quatre while she's gone."

Albek nodded. "You're right. She'd probably be pissed at me for not waiting until she could join in the fun."

"Guys!" Quatre squeaked in a mortified tone. "Don't uh, don't you think we should get going to the courtyard? It's almost sunrise."

Albek made a big show of sighing regretfully and said, "You're right. It's Hilde's big day and the sun won't wait any longer. I wonder where she is though. She should be here by now."

"She can't possibly be late for her first solo," Quatre said.

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Trowa commented wryly. "This is Hilde i'Sheibakker we're talking about. I bet she's with Epiqua in the stables fussing over that new foal that was birthed yesterday."

Quatre frowned. "Maybe I should ask the kigh where she is."

"Couldn't hurt."

Quatre pursed his lips and whistled a four note sequence, feeling the breeze around him intensify. A thin and sharply pointed face floated up to Quatre's eye-level, stormy grey eyes in a pale face seeming to laugh at him wordlessly. The body was nearly translucent, the features shifting constantly except for the eyes. Quatre Sang a brief question to the air kigh, adding the notes of Hilde's name. The kigh ran its pale fingers through Quatre's hair once and then it was gone. A few seconds later it sailed back into the hallway, creating a magnificent breeze that had people grasping onto their sheets of music in tight fists so that they would not blow away. A few irritated glances were tossed Quatre's way and he ducked his head sheepishly.

"You were right Trowa, she was in the stables. But she's coming out now so she should be here very soon," Albek said while Quatre was busy singing the kigh a quick gratitude.

As if on cue a girl in a deep brown robe burst into the hallway, running a hand nervously through the short cap of dark hair and searching the faces around her.

"Hilde! Over here!" Quatre called, waving his hand in the air ineffectively. "Oh drat, she doesn't see me. Why don't you call her Trowa, you're taller then me."

"So is everyone else in here," Albek added under his breath and received a vicious kick in the shin from the blond next to him.

By then, Hilde had spotted the trio and made her way over to them, her face radiating excitement. She greeted Trowa with a warm smile and threw her arms around Quatre, effectively smothering the boy. "Isn't it great? My first solo and they day is perfect!"

"How can you tell?" Albek teased. "The sun isn't even up yet."

"We bards know everything," Hilde said. "Isn't that right Quatre?"

"Can't…breathe…"

"Oh! Sorry." Hilde released the boy and he stumbled back a bit, gasping for air. Trowa couldn't help but snicker at his expression and the glare Quatre sent him back only made him laugh harder.

"You are so sleeping on the couch tonight," Quatre muttered.

Hilde giggled and then grabbed Albek with one arm and Quatre with the other. "Come on, we're going to be late if you don't stop dilly-dallying around. We need to get to our places. Let's go, hurry up!"

Albek allowed himself to be dragged behind the persistent girl as they followed the rest of the group, which was steadily trickling into the courtyard, taking their places as they'd done for numerous other ceremonies.

"Did she just accuse us of dilly-dallying around when she was the last one here?" he asked of Trowa, incredulously.

"Don't even argue," the taller brown-haired boy advised. "It's just easier that way."

"I heard that Trowa."

"Well good. Then your hearing isn't going."

Quatre ignored the banter around him and took a moment to breathe in the crisp morning air. The courtyard was dark with a hint of dawn on the horizon. The stars still sprinkled the deep navy of the sky and a bright quarter moon added a dull glow to the various shrubs and plants in the wide garden. The flowers were just beginning to bloom, having just come through a relatively mild winter, and Quatre could see shoots of daffodils and day lilies peeking through the damp earth. The dogwood trees were already in bloom, the pale flowers seeming to glow with the moonlight.

It's just as beautiful as the first time I saw it, Quatre thought, remembering his own summons to the Bardic Hall nearly four years ago. I gave up everything to come here. My family, my home…everything.

"Absolutely not," Raberba i' Winneria, Third Duc of Vidori said, slamming his hands down onto the desktop signifying an end to the conversation. "No son of mine is going to run off and become a bard. We should have stopped those damned music lessons as soon as they interfered with your work."

"You mean as soon as they interfered with you making me into a duplicate of yourself," Quatre snapped back. "I'm horrible at being a duc, you know that. I can't run the keep and you know what happened the last time I tried to organize the books for you. I have no head for maths and court diplomacy makes my head hurt. Why don't you let Iria do all that stuff? She actually likes maths and then I can go study at the Bardic Hall-"

"Iria is not the only male heir of Vidori and you would do well to remember that," the stern man said. "You'd do better at maths if you actually studied them once and a while instead of playing all day on that unenclosed harp. You're fourteen. You have certain responsibilities now. You can't go on acting like a child."

Quatre pushed his bangs out of his eyes and tried very hard not to lose his temper. "Father I'm good at this. Marsia tested me for ability and she says they'd practically kill to have me at the Hall! I can sing three of four quarters and I can already call the air kigh as good as Mars can. You've seen it yourself father."

"I'll not have you shirking your duty in order to indulge yourself in such a waste of time as composing silly ballads."

"It's not a waste of time," the boy shouted indignantly. "Marsia told me that the bards were the ears and eyes and voice of the country. They harmonize the physical and spiritual-"

"Rubbish," the man interrupted. "Your mother could sing the kigh and look where it got her. Stoned to death by Cemandian peasants on a Walk to Elbasen. I won't have you come to the same fate. You shall remain right here in Vidori and do your duty as heir or I will disown you and throw you out on the street and you'll never be able to come back here. Never. Do you understand me?"

The boy clenched his fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands hard enough to draw blood. His eyes glittered with tears but he refused to let them fall. He was no child. He knew what he had to do.

"Well, do you?"

"Yes, sir. I understand completely."

"Then this conversation is finished. You may go find Iria and have her continue with the lessons you missed this morning talking to that bard." The dismissal left no room for argument and Quatre gave a stiff bow to his father before leaving the room.

I will be a bard father. You cannot stop me from achieving my dream. My life is my own. Reaching the haven of his own quarters, Quatre slammed the door shut and started to shove some clothes into a small pack along with his harp and flute. He would leave that very night. Duty be damned.

Quatre sighed and shook his head free of the unsettling images that had come back to haunt him. Sometimes Bardic memory is a real pain in the ass. Quatre had not spoken to his father since the day he left, almost four years ago. Did his sisters miss him at all? Had his father even told them why he left, or did they think he just abandoned them on a whim, leaving his family behind without a second thought. I wonder if father will ever forgive me?

A pair of warm lips descended on his forehead, distracting him from his reverie. Quatre looked up into a pair of concerned green eyes and smiled.

"Trowa?"

"You were looking just a bit too serious there. You shouldn't frown so, it'll give you wrinkles," the taller boy teased, brushing a lock of hair away from Quatre's face with a familiar, comforting gesture.

Looking at his lover, the way his cinnamon coloured hair flopped down over one side of his face, obscuring one bright eye from view, the soft peach-coloured lips that could curve invitingly and part wide with laughter or song, the rich voice that could make him shiver with a single word, Quatre became lost all over again. He fisted his hands into Trowa's tunic and buried his face in the fabric, smelling the clean, grassy scent that Trowa always seemed to have. The taller boy blinked in surprise but returned the embrace.

"Here now, what brought this on?" he inquired.

"Nothing," Quatre replied. "I just love you." And it was all worth it. The banishment, the loneliness, the loss of title; just to be able to wake up in your arms is worth all that and more.

"And I love you too, Quatre i'Melek a'Raberba. So stop frowning and give me a kiss," Trowa demanded, bending down to take the offered lips. They stayed like that until a muted cough drew their attention.

"Albek if I ever start acting that sappy, would you please arrange to have me killed?" Hilde asked.

"My lady, I would gladly stick the sword through your stomach myself," Albek promised reverently.

Quatre stuck his tongue out at the two bards who were pretending to gag. "Oh, shut up."

"No, seriously. I could write a ballad about how sickeningly sweet that was."

"Well then why don't you do that?" Trowa teased. "We all know how well `The Desert Angel' was received."

Quatre groaned and covered his ears. "Please don't mention that song ever again. I've heard it enough times to last me until I die. And it doesn't even sound a bit like me!"

"You've got to admit, it's a catchy tune, though." Hilde hummed a few bars and was interrupted by an elbow connecting with her stomach. "Oof-Trowa!"

"What?" said the other boy, trying for an innocent look but failing miserably.

"It's almost time," Quatre said, looking at the sun just peeking over the horizon. "We should probably take our places."

Trowa nodded and hugged Hilde briefly. "Good luck. I know you'll be great."

"Thanks, but I doubt it'll be anything special. I'm not nearly as adept in Singing earth as you are," she said, adjusting her robe nervously.

Quatre gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine. They picked you for a solo, didn't they? The Bardic Captain wouldn't have let you try it, if you weren't ready."

"Guess you're right. We'll find out soon enough, won't we."

Quatre, Albek, and Hilde took their places in the middle of the courtyard, while Trowa went to stand with the other members of the chorus, his flute in hand. A girl in a robe as green as the sea joined the three in the middle and Trowa recognized her as Marja, a fisherman's daughter from Riverton, who had made a lot of progress in her two years stay at the Hall. She Sang water like Trowa Sang earth. Except without the grass stains.

Trowa looked down at his clothes ruefully. Since I'm only playing accompaniment today, maybe the kigh will see fit to leave my trousers unscathed.

The Bardic Captain quieted the excited whispers and giggles from those assembled and nodded to the four in the middle. Trowa held his breath and waited for the ceremony to begin.

Albek went first, his deep baritone created a thrumming base line, which was soon built on by the soft plucking of lute strings. He Sang fire, and the sun seemed to respond, the first rays of light bursting free of the purpled clouds that separated the dawn from the night sky. The melody was simple and strong, a bold declaration of a new day. Trowa could feel the earth warm under his feet and the torches that lit the garden flicked and sparked in rhythm with the Song.

I, the autumn
I, the evening star
I have been an echo

Hilde joined Albek then, her pure alto weaving a complex harmony and building on the melody that Albek had started. The bass-clarinets took up Albek's part and he dropped out as Hilde began her solo. She deepened her tone slightly and started a series of chromatic sequences, altering the pattern each time, creating dissonance and then resolving it. Trowa felt the kigh stir under his feet and the ground resonated with the call of Hilde's Song. He smiled and gave her a thumb's up as Albek joined in once again.

I shall be a wave
I shall be the moon
I have been everything, I am myself

After another short duet, Hilde playing on Albek's melody in a call and answer game, Quatre added his own voice to the mix. His tone matched Hilde's and they raised the tempo of the Song, moving it faster, note following note in an energetic tumble. Minor chords and triad's were built on and then broken to pieces in dissonance and eerie softness. They Sang of uncertainty and change, but Albek's base kept a steady repetition. Then both clarinets and horns took up the melody while Hilde and Albek fell quiet, letting Quatre take his solo.

I; the summer
I; the ebony
I am the dreamer

Capricious and lilting, Quatre Sang, trills and scales falling from his mouth, pushing the tempo even faster into cut time. The breeze flitted across the courtyard and carried his voice with it, playing with the volume and adding its own wail and whistle. Trowa spotted a pair of ghostly fingers weaving themselves through Quatre's hair and grinned, lifting his flute. The ironwood instrument was placed to his lips and Trowa played a counter melody to Quatre's matching the pace and then raising it again. Not missing a beat, the blond boy wrapped a sixteenth note scale around Trowa's melody and then repeated it, a little louder each time until the trees shook with the force of the gale the kigh had stirred up. Hilde and Albek joined in once again and a more complete major chords were built, the scale leading upwards, going faster and faster until Marja broke out in her flawless soprano, holding the high C as the rest of the accompaniment tumbled down the scale and then became silent.

ignis, aqua,
caelum, terra,
hierns et aestas,
autumnus et
tempus vernum...*

The invocation was slow and soft. Marja repeated it twice alone and then all of the bards Sang until the sun shone brightly in the sky, no longer overshadowed by the lingering darkness of night. The kigh gathered quickly around the four and then spun away, taking the last note with them. It was now officially the first day of Spring. Second Quatre had begun. Trowa grinned and watched as Hilde hugged and kissed both Quatre and Albek, her smile positively joyful. He walked over to join them while subtly checking his knees for more grass stains.

-END CHAPTER ONE-

*fire, water,
sky, earth,
winter and summer
autumn and
spring time...