Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Between Black and White ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Between Black and White - Part One

by Ore

Rating: R

Pairings: 4x3/3x4 (eventually)

Warnings/Category: AU, fantasy, angst, dark?, future yaoi

Notes: For several reasons, I'm digging this up from my fic folder in an effort to continue it. Let's see how it goes.

*****

//The people of the world of Yerv have long believed in the Balance. The belief that everything has to have an equal amount of the opposite. Truth equals lies, hate equals love, peace equals war, dark equals light, and evil equals good. It is impossible to look back on a time when the Balance was not worshipped. Throughout the years, throughout time, the Balance has always been a part of a culture's or country's worship.

Some places may rid themselves of the Balance, but always another place took up the belief. The concept of the Balance has never left Yerv, though it has nearly become overwhelmed by other beliefs, other religions at times, it always comes back. People have a hold of it in their minds and hearts. They have the 'knowledge' that life would not be as it is without the Balance.

And through the people's belief of the Balance comes the rumor of the Balancer.

There can only be one Balancer at a time. They are born and through various ways keep the Balance from becoming offset. It is their destiny, their fate, to do so. They can see the patterns of things, of what will happen, how it will happen, and why it will happen. They have the power to see and change what is to come. Because they are the Balancer. Because the Balance demands it so. Because it is the people's belief.

For six hundred years after they are born they are nearly invincible, immortal. However once those six hundred years are over, they die and another of them is born. The world is never without a Balancer, not for a moment, but it is never with two. Never.

When a Balancer is born two people appear to carry them away. Mortals, one who wears a cloak of white, and one who wears a cloak of black. They train the Balancer in how to keep the Balance, to make the right decisions. No one is sure of where they come from, only that they do come, and that they are never the same. Of course this is only a rumor.

A legend.

A myth.

All of this is considered so.

But if it was true, then a Balancer would have the power to change a peasant into the ruler of a kingdom.

Or make a king into a peasant.

To free a people.

To destroy them.

Create a kingdom.

Destroy a civilization.

Who would wish to hold such power? Many people, perhaps. Or maybe not. It would be a rendering of soul, a tearing of the heart, for someone to hold such power. To decide if a man should die to save a kingdom or if he should live and the kingdom demolished. To decide which way the Balance most go so it can be preserved. It is too big of a burden for someone to carry, even if they are a Balancer.

Their existence is just a rumor to the people . . .

Unfortunately, it is a true rumor.//

*****

The little house sat next to a grove of trees, a small field of wheat growing in front of it, the soft golden stalks waving in the slight breeze whisking through the area. A plot of land near the house was dedicated to a garden--two gardens, one filled with green plants reaching towards the sky, and the other, smaller, was filled with the bright colors of flowers in bloom. To the side a simple barn stood with just enough room for the two draft horses, cow, and the wagon it usually provided protection for.

The house and its inhabitants were usually cheerful. Only married for a little over a year the man and woman were happy together. He, the sturdy--dark farm boy--who had fallen for her--the delicate, pale town girl--who in turn loved him. After they had married it was common to see her making some joke at him while they worked on their land, and after a few seconds he would chase after her, catch her, wrap his arms around her and love her.

That had not been the case for the past several months however. Not that the couple wasn't happy, but that something different was coming their way. She would idly work in her garden, glimpsing through her eyelashes at her husband in the field, smiling and resting her hand on top of her stomach. Or else she would be found sitting in a wooden chair next to the house, humming, knitting small garments for a child. Her husband often coming by and placing a kiss on her lips. All of this was evident of the small life growing within her, the presence that continued to grow until she moaned when she moved and had to maneuver through doors.

All was different now, though. The woman lay on a simple bed, sweating and crying out as pains ripped through her small body. Delicate hands clutched at the plain sheets, she prayed that her husband would make it home soon. He had gone into town early in the morning, kissing her cheek, telling her that he would be back before the sun set, and that she had better not have the baby while he was away. They had laughed and she had kissed him back, promising. Now as the sun set, its golden light turning orange and red, flooding the small house with its light, the promise was broken.

And her husband wasn't back yet. She closed her crystal blue eyes, grinding her teeth as another contraction wracked her delicate frame. She would make it through this and greet her husband with the child. She could make it through this. Oh, but how she still wished he was by her side.

She opened her eyes in shock as she felt someone lift her shoulders, sliding a pillow beneath her upper back and resting her head and neck on their arm. Was it her husband?

No. It was a middle-aged woman dressed in a simple white dress, a jewel divided into equal halves of black and white holding a white cloak over her shoulders. Golden-brown eyes smiled down at her, soft strands of dark-gold hair surrounding the woman's face as she braced the birthing woman against herself. The other woman tensed herself, prepared to struggle when the woman dressed in white spoke to her. "We are not here to hurt you. Calm yourself."

We? The woman looked around the room, her bleary eyes widening at the dark figure at the end of her bed. Another woman, quite a bit younger than the other, this time with black hair that shone red in the dying light, stony green eyes, and a long jagged scar that started at the top of her left cheekbone and across her lips--twisting them into a grim parody of a smile--where it ended at her chin.. She was dressed similarly to the other woman--down to that black and white jewel--her dress and cloak, however, was as black as coal.

They were contrasts of each other. Dark and light. Compassion and indifference. White and black.

The dark woman shook back her hair and glared at the light woman, disgust plain across her features. "Oh, yes, we are not here to hurt you. Only here to take your child and watch you die. As all mothers of Balancers do."

"W-what?" She tried to sit up and only found herself restrained by the light woman. Balancer? That jewel on their cloaks, she had seen its design before. The symbol of the Balance. One hung above the doorway of their house, her husband had made it out of wood, panting each half its respective color and dividing them by a gray line. It didn't seem too long ago that he had taken it to a nearby shrine to have it blessed. It was supposed to bring them luck.

"Do not listen to Kerla. She is harsh to everyone." The light woman smiled kindly, brushing a piece of platinum blond hair away from the other woman's face. Regret flashed through her eyes. "What she says is true, but it is the way things must be."

The woman in birth blinked, tears rising up in her eyes, and she found herself looking out a window, towards the setting sun. She did not know these other women--she had never met anyone like them--and she feared them. There rang an undeniable tone of truth to the light woman's words. It was illogical, but it struck something within her. She had heard the rumors before, the ones that people gossiped about in small parties. She had never believed them, never before, but now . . .

A tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a small trail across her sweaty face and she sank into the sun. The murmur of the light woman's voice, the cruel tone of the dark woman's, and the pain of her child's birth faded away as she was swallowed by the setting sun's light. And she remembered.

She remembered the first time her husband had come to her, a dark blush on his face, and in his hands a bouquet of wildflowers. They had smelled so lovely and he had been so handsome . . .

She remembered the kiss on the lips as he slid a simple ring upon her finger, whispering into her ear, asking if she would marry him. So kind . . .

She remembered a white dress and his arms wrapped around her as they danced at their wedding. So beautiful . . .

She remembered his warm hands on her belly, laying his head on it, feeling the child within kick. So sweet . . .

The sun sank beneath the horizon, sliver by sliver, the sky fading into blackness, and her life slowly fading away into nothing. A baby's cry awoke her from her daze and with eyes that were already turning dull, she looked at her newborn child.

The dark woman had wrapped him in a dark gray blanket, peeking under it at his chest, nodding at the light woman and handed it over to her. Cradling the baby in one arm, the light woman brought it forward so his mother could look at him. Eyes that swirled blue and green stared at her and she raised a shaking hand to run her fingers down the soft skin of his forehead.

"He's going to look just like you . . ." The light woman faltered, unsure of what to call the new mother.

"Q-quatrine . . ."

"He's going to look just like you, Quatrine."

The dying woman smiled sadly, "What . . . will my . . . husband . . ?"

Kerla, the dark woman, frowned. "Your husband shall come home after being delayed by a fallen tree in the road to find you dead and the child gone." Something flickered across those cold eyes, pity . . . or was it understanding? "He shall search for the boy that shall never be his and years will pass before he settles down to marry again. To start over."

Her hand falling atop her breast, the woman's strength completely gone, she closed her eyes. "Love . . ."

And the baby boy cried.

Perhaps for his mother's loss or he knew what lay ahead in his too long life.

It was a long time before he stopped.