Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Between Black and White ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Between Black and White - Part One

by Ore

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: 4x3/3x4 (eventually)

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

Notes: Still can't believe I'm doing this. *creeps* The next part will be released no sooner than a week from now.

*****

//Throughout the Balancer's six-hundred-year life-span, there is only one time when they choose to surround themselves with mortals. Mortals who know what they are. The Balancer picks these mortals carefully, binding them to themselves with an oath of blood. An oath to be loyal. An oath that in the long history of the Balancer has never been broken.

The history of the Balancer goes back to before written word. It is eons old.

These mortals who the Balancer chooses become known as the Greys. The Balancer trains the Greys and when the time comes, picks one to become the White Cloak and another to become the Black Cloak.

The White Cloak and Black Cloak. Two servants of the Balancer. One dark, one light. One for chaos, one for order. One for peace, one for conflict. One for life, one for death.

The White Cloak and Black Cloak. Aspects for what the Balancer stands for.

The White Cloak and Black Cloak. Those that -- in turn -- teach the next Balancer what their destiny is.//

*****

Rainever Fortress was isolated among the desolate Minerat Mountains that partially separated the continent of Veirn, causing many traders to curse them because -- for the most part -- they were impassable, making merchants and travelers lose that much time going around them. There were two trails that allowed people to pass through them, however. One was Saver Trail and -- as a well-known trader's route -- the traffic on it was heavy. The other was a small unnamed trail that few people knew of and it was on this trail that Rainever Fortress stood.

It sat hidden within a small, fertile valley, tucked away on one side. It was made of sturdy gray stone, squat and looking as it if was trying to blend in to the vital greenness of the surrounding area. Its age was unknown. Some parts of it were but ruins, cragged rocks jutting up with sharp edges, vines reaching around broken pillars of stone, moss creeping its way into damp crevices and corners. Other parts were in good condition, the kitchen -- where a fire lit in the fireplace lent the area a homey feel -- two towers that looked misplaced as being part of the keep -- perhaps they had been added on after Rainever had been built -- and the library, where books from many ages and countries -- some long forgotten -- were placed.

Rainever Fortress was the closest place to a home that Quatre had. It was where he had been raised, running upon the green grass, studying in the library with books stacked upon the floor and on shelves. He had been thirteen-years-old before he had ever left the green valley and Rainever's damp halls to see the world outside. After that, he would leave for long stretches of time, periods that distanced him from it. And when he came back, it would only be for a short time. Not long enough for him to become settled.

It had been that way for a long span. That was until lately.

Until lately, Rainever Fortress had been a lonely place. Stuck without any footsteps to fill its silence, its only company the birds that made their nests in its eaves and the few wild beasts that wandered the valley and the mountains.

Now, while it was not a place full of life and people, it was not quite so lonely. Laughter was heard among its walls on a nearly daily basis, voices chimed in its rooms, and footsteps scuffled, glided, clicked down its halls every day. People lived within its walls. People that Quatre had brought to stay.

It was morning -- the sun rising above the horizon and embracing everything with its gold tinged pink light -- and Quatre was standing atop one of the towers. The Fortress was quiet now. Most of its occupants were still asleep or -- with those awake -- were outside in the open air.

He enjoyed the quiet. It was in the silence that he could almost forget the world. Like he was nothing, just a part of the silence. Except he never could forget. Even standing alone, pretending the world did not exist, he knew it did. He could feel it. Feel its rhythm pulsing away in the back of his mind. Feel everything, destruction, creation, all of it coming together to form the good, the bad, the tragedies, the miracles. He could feel the strands that made the tapestry of the world and he knew which ones could destroy or create.

He turned as he heard soft feet climb stone steps and raised an eyebrow. A girl of near nineteen years looked out at him from under the halfway opened wooden hatch leading out to the top of the tower. "Ha! I knew I would find you up here," she grinned, pushing back raven hair out of her eyes, which were such a dark blue that they were only a shade or two away from being black.

"And what are you doing up so early in the morning, Hilde?" he questioned. Hilde was a source of constant energy. She had a fire within her that burned constantly and that never seemed to die. She was stubborn on changing what she believed; she would have to be shown something to make her change them. Something dramatic. She was, also, stubborn about getting up in the morning.

She pursed thin lips together, "Une woke me up. Said I was snoring." She sniffed in disdain, like she wasn't about to believe that she had been caught snoring. "Then she went out to help Treize with his plants."

He hid a smile that was gently creeping up his face. "You do snore, Hilde. You have ever since I've known you." He had first met Hilde sometime back. She was from one of the far northern countries -- Estrad -- in a nameless village. It was there that she had been a thief. A good one, just not very successful. The people of the village were not wealthy to begin with, so had she mainly made her money on the odd traveler or two that passed through. Her hand had been in his pouch, scrounging for money, was how they had first became acquainted. Clothed in dirty clothes, she had frozen in fear when his hand had grasped her wrist. He had not punished her, though she had obviously been expecting it, but instead -- after several days time in her company -- offered to bring her back to Rainever Fortress with him. She had not said no.

She glowered at him, then shook her head chuckling. "I guess I do, but don't tell anyone I admitted to that." She leaned forward, hands on hips. "So who else is insane enough to be up this early in the morning?"

"Besides Treize, Une, and myself?" A quick nod from her. He concentrated for a moment, searching. Cold eyes . . . an unbreakable wall of will . . . among crumbling stones . . . the harsh sound of breath, the movement of flashing metal. "Heero's in the old ruins, practicing." He heard Hilde snort and knew she was rolling her eyes. Admiration for beauty . . . a burning devotion . . . the smell of roses . . . He muttered to himself, "Treize and Une are in the rose garden . . ." There was Hilde, too. The gentle force of her energy . . . gazing up from a dark stairwell into the lightening blue of the sky. He knew that they weren't the only ones awake. He scanned across the sleeping minds of the others . . . Ah! An innocent heart . . . hope for the future . . . strong will of life . . . sound of laughter . . . the smell of baking bread among the warm kitchen . . . hands kneading dough. "Relena and Sally are in the kitchen, baking. Everyone else is still asleep."

Hilde's eyebrows rose, her dark eyes glimmering. "Baking bread, I hope?" A slight inclination of his head giving affirmation. "Yum! Let's go grab some before anyone else does!" She started to skip down the stairs, cackling, "Then I can plot my revenge upon Une and all the others crazy enough to be up this early."

He followed at a casual pace, calling out after her, "Does that make me crazy, too?"

She whirled around on her heel, staring back at him with wide eyes. "Of course not." Her voice was rich with awe and reverence, "You're supposed to something more than everyone else. Better."

The corners of her mouth raised in a tiny smile, an expression of faith that was almost child-like overtaking her face. "You are the Balancer."

Then she turned away, blushing, and started to make her way down the stairs again.

Quatre nodded to himself as he watched one of his Greys skip down the steps.

He was the Balancer.

*****

//He sat in the verdant grass, pulling up a leaf, putting it up against his mouth and trying to produce a whistle with it. All he got was a squeak.

Laughter came from the woman at his side, her figure glowing softly in the shine of the afternoon sun. Her hands gently wrapped around his much smaller ones, tenderly plucking the leaf of grass from his hand. "I swear I never should have shown you that." She grinned lightly, ruffling his pale-golden hair, "C'mon, let's get back to studying. I'll show you how to do it later."

With a despondent nod, he turned back to the worn book in front of him, the words written in a nearly ineligible hand.. It was so boring. Why should he care about what other Balancers had done? They were dead and he was not. His gaze drifted away from the book, catching sight of a blue and purple butterfly fluttering around a cluster of wild flowers. So pretty . . .

"Quatre." The woman's forefinger and thumb gripped his chin, turning his head to face her soft golden-brown eyes. "I know this is boring, but you have to read it to learn how to become a good Balancer."

"I don't wanna learn about Balancer Grindshol or Balancer Lisha." He crawled into her lap, his small body making a perfect fit, wrapped a hand around her dark-golden strands, and buried his head in the customary white robes she wore, enjoying the smell of pine emanating from her. "Can't you read to me, 'Zari?"

She pulled him away from her, shaking her head. "I could, but I won't because then you would fall asleep." She laughed when he wrinkled up his nose, placing hers so their noses touched tip to tip. "And stop pouting, munchkin, you know-"

"Olizari, what have I told you about coddling him?" A harsh voice made them pull apart and look towards the woman dressed in black who had appeared behind them. She was an imposing figure, not tall, but her very stance was challenging. Thick black hair was bound in a braid behind her made her sharp features intimidating, the scar that twisted across her left cheekbone and lips making a once beautiful face into something a child would see as a monster's grim visage.

Quatre scrambled from 'Zari's lap and threw back his shoulders in a desperate bid to make himself look bigger and braver than he felt. "Kerla! 'Zari wasn't coddling me, she was just-"

Burning green eyes were on him, "She was coddling you and you know better." Her gaze swung to 'Zari. "As should you. Come here, Quatre. Your lessons today with Olizari are over. It's my turn." His shoulders slumped -- his attempt at standing up to her gone -- and moved to her, allowing long fingers to close around his delicate wrist.

'Zari flowed to her feet, looking unimaginably incensed. "Stop being so cruel to him to Kerla! He's only a child."

"No, he isn't a child, Olizari. And he is most definitely not your child," Kerla growled at 'Zari and Quatre shivered at the pure fury he felt in her. "That's what you keep forgetting." She pulled Quatre into her grip, he froze as she yanked up his rough cotton shirt baring his chest to the air. She pointed an accusing finger at his right side -- just where his rib-cage began -- and at the circle birth-shaped mark there. His breath caught in his throat. "This is what makes him different. He's not a child, Olizari. He's not even human. He's the Balancer." She dropped his shirt and picked up his six-year-old body. "You would do well to remember that."

'Zari said nothing and Kerla carried him away. He looked over her shoulder, feeling her steel-hard arms wrapped around him, and gazed at the sad, white figure left alone in the green grass, feeling something harden within him.

He wasn't human.

He was the Balancer.//

*****

The Citadel stared down at Trowa in the late afternoon and he vaguely wished that it had never been built and that he had never been put into this situation. The Citadel was a palace built near Lost Bay and its name had come to cover the city that had grown around it. It had been built nearly a hundred-and-fifty years ago, just after Trowa's ancestors had arrived in this land called Norech.

Norech was a small part of the continent Veirn, but it was cut off from the rest of the world by the Minerat Mountains. Its only inhabitants for a long time had been the proud race of copper-skinned people, the Nors, making their living there, in a place that was mostly plains with few trees. The Nors survived by selling salt gathered from the Salt Caves within the Minerats, not much just enough for supplies that were needed. It was then that Trowa's people had come up through Lost Bay in their majestic ships, a sea-faring people known as the Aquis that were slowly dying out, their race dwindling as the years went by.

It was here in Norech that they came to regroup themselves. They came to build a base of operations and see if they could make something off of the Salt Caves. Their ships would have allowed them to distribute it all over the world. They ran into problems with the Nors. The Salt Caves belonged to the Nors and it was through both peoples' unwillingness to compromise that the war between them started. For over a hundred years they fought until Nors and Aquis were nearly decimated. Through desperate measures, the leaders of each race came together and formed a truce.

A truce that had lasted almost fifty years where the Nor sold the salt to the Aquis, and the Aquis sold the salt to the rest of the world. It was only now that the plan was failing. Aquis and Nors had come together into villages and as time went by the two races intermingled and relationships formed. Relationships that produced children with the blood of both peoples. Children that no one had any idea what to do about. Should they be granted the rights of the Nors or the rights of the Aquis? Or both the rights of Aquis and Nors?

And with some Aquis and Nors, these propositions rubbed them the wrong way. A few of these people had killed children who held both Aquis and Nor blood in their veins. They were ruining the life style they had become comfortable with.

Calls for change were being made. It was a change that had to be made for the entirety of Norech was on the verge of a war. Already skirmishes claiming lives had been fought.

So nearly fifty years after the truce, the leaders of each race were coming together once more to make a new agreement. Something that could hopefully please both sides.

It was a heavy burden for Trowa, for he was the leader of the Aquis. One that he did not wish for, nor had ever wanted. One that was not even supposed to be his burden.

A burden that grew with every step his horse took towards the Citadel.

"Trowa, stop frowning so much. It's not the end of the world." His companion said, patting his shoulder in an effort to be supportive.

He shrugged it off. He was far from being in the mood to be comforted. Tension vibrated through him, ran through his muscles and nerves, saturating itself into his body. He did not want to do this. He was not one for making decisions.

He wished he could be gone. Gone like he had never existed, melted away like snow when the spring sun appeared. It would never happen.

A snort alerted him that his companion had pulled up his horse, glaring at him through with long chestnut bangs with indignant violet eyes. "By the Balance, Trowa! Could you stop acting like such a cold-blooded ass?"

"I have a lot of things to think about, Duo-" he started, thinking wistfully that now would be a really good time to be non-existing. Then he wouldn't have to endure the trusting eyes of the Aquis -- ha! he still couldn't think of them as his people --, the lords' advice on certain matters, his sister's pampering, or his best friend's mood swings.

Interrupting, as he was wont to do when irritated, Duo hunched his shoulders forward. "Then stop thinking about them! You've been thinking about them forever!" He waved his arms in the air, searching -- it seemed -- for something to take his rage out on. His horse ignored his erratic movements and lowered its head to eat grass. Duo finally settled on his long chestnut braid, jerking it and wrapping it around his hand like he wanted to wrap it around someone's throat. Quite possibly Trowa's. "I do believe it's possible to stop doing that for a few moments at least! You're driving me nuts. You're driving Catherine nuts! And you're driving everyone else nuts, too!" He stopped his ranting, catching his breath.

Trowa knew he had been unnaturally silent as of late, but he hadn't been that bad had he? Of course, maybe it was brushing off he gave to everyone during the last few weeks. That would be enough to get a rise out of Catherine and Duo. They both hated to be ignored. And he had been ignoring them, letting his emotions build up within himself until they were the tangled knot he felt in the pit of his stomach, pushing them away . . . "Damn, I have been acting like an ass."

Duo rolled his eyes, his expressive face showing forgiveness. "Yeah, well, stop being one. Catherine and I have been worried mad about you. You keep going off on these Black forsaken rides alone. You're our king, Trowa. It's dangerous for you to be out here without protection."

"You're here with me." He could take care of himself and did not like anyone even suggesting that he could not. "And I'm not king."

His braided friend growled deep in his throat, "You're only not king because you refused to go through the ceremony, however, you still are the ruler of the Aquis. There are people who want to kill you, you know that." There that braid went again, winding through fingers, long strands of chestnut being yanked. "And -- AND the only reason I'm out with you today is because I caught you while you were sneaking away." His head fell forward limply, "I'm going to have gray hairs before I reach twenty because of you."

Trowa concentrated on the reins he held in his hands. He really disliked other people showing him his faults, but he was used to it. At least from Duo and his sister. "I apologize, Duo. I'll try to be less of an . . . ass."

"You had better be. Do you realize how having gray hairs could ruin my image?" Duo had always been one to make light of serious situations, something Trowa was more than inapt at. "And you need to be all together mentally since tomorrow the talks with the Nors begin." Then again, Duo did have an ability to bring reality crashing down upon person's head.

"I know." He urged his horse forward, knowing Duo would follow. In the distance he could see the city's gates appear and he inwardly frowned. In a short time his horse's hooves would be ringing along stone streets and he would have to face his sister, a notion that did not settle well with him. She would be in a rage. She had right to be, he had left her alone to deal with the idiotic lords of the Aquis and while she did it well, it was a task no one could truly enjoy. He owed her. He could barely deal with them himself. "I never wanted to be the ruler, Duo. I don't think I was ever meant to be a ruler."

Silence reigned behind him and he glanced back to find his friend staring up at the blue sky. "Duo?"

Those violet eyes slowly found him, blinking thoughtfully. "I never wanted to an advisor to someone who held great power, Trowa. I never thought I would be and I still don't think I was meant to be." A wistful smile crawled across his face. "But here I am, because here you are and I figured you needed someone at your side. However you think it should be and however I think it should be are not what others think. You are the Aquis' ruler and I am your advisor. And, in truth, we are damn good at what we are. We'll make it through the talks in one piece, don't worry."

"You're a good friend, Duo." They were almost at the gates and Trowa could see a red-headed woman standing next to them. His sister had apparently decided to meet them from their little trip. He sighed, "I just wish this was not my fate."

*****

//"You can't possibly be serious! He's our son!" His mother grabbed his father's shoulder, tears tracing paths down her wrinkled and worn face.

In the flickering light of the fire, a hand was raised and she fell back to the stone floor, her own hand pressed against her now red cheek and a look of horror growing on her face. His father stood tall, angry and Trowa cowered in the closet, muffling his whimpers in his sister's dress. "He isn't our son any longer! He's the king's!"

Trowa's hands gripped tighter on his sister's arm. "Cathy, I'm scared."

"Shh, Trow. Be quiet now." Her comforting hands ran through his hair and she was as frightened as he was, even if she didn't voice it. He had heard her gasp when their father had hit their mother. Their father was not a violent man. Far from it, he was tender and caring, but now . . .

His mother's hands smoothed her richly brocaded velvet dress and her voice was broken with sobs. "Renal . . . how could you do . . . such a thing." Green eyes drilled holes into the tall man's back and he turned to face her as she eked out her next words. "Agreeing to give our son to him like - like that!"

His father's face looked tired and the anger that had been in his eyes seconds before was now gone, replaced with fear, shame, and sadness. He reached out to his wife, his large hands searching for her, "I'm so sorry, Trisha. My beautiful, beautiful Trisha. I didn't-"

"No!" the slim woman cried out, scrambling away from those hands that came towards her. "Don't touch me. Not until you tell me why you could give our ten-year-old son to him! Tell me why!"

Then the tears fell from Renal's eyes and Trowa bit his lip, keeping back the sobs that wanted to come from him. His father never cried, but he was crying now and it was for him. Trowa knew it. "I didn't want to, Trisha. Never. He asked me and I said no. Trowa's our son. Ours. Not some replacement for the king's dead son." Gray eyes that were known to be so calm, swirled with depth and emotion, like the clouds of a storm or the raging waters of the ocean. "Then he told me that if I didn't agree he would break our family apart. All of us! He - he would take Catherine away, then you and finally take Trowa. He was going to ruin our family! I did the only thing I could do."

His mother wouldn't face his father and her voice sounded so broken and lost, "Our family's still ruined. He's taking away our little boy. Why can't he just name him heir? Why does he have to take him away?" Heart-broken sobs wracked Trisha's body.

Renal fell to his knees and gathered her in his arms, burying his face in her thick red hair, "Because he believes that the heir can only be someone raised by him. Because he's an egotistical pig with too much power at his beck and call." He hugged his wife closer to him. "I wish I could do something. We're losing our son to him in the - the morning. He's - he's taking him away in the morning." He cradled his wife in the light of the fire and cried with her.

Trowa saw this with his sister through the partially opened door of the closet. He could feel Catherine's arms wrap around his waist and her head bury itself on his shoulder. "You're going away, I don't want you to go away," he heard her muffled voice. Her tears soaked through his shirt, her cinnamon smell wrapping around him. "Don't go away."

He clutched back at her in despair, quaking in fear and he let his own tears run down his face, nestling his head atop her shoulder. "I don't want them to take me away. I don't wanna go." His father sat holding his mother in the light of the dying fire, crying for their son that was theirs no longer. He and his sister sat curled together in the dark closet, sobbing for fear of the morning.

"I don't wanna go away."//