Title: The Day Night Fell
Fandom: 07-Ghost
Pairing(s): Ayanami and Yukikaze, Hyuuga and Ayanami
Chapter: 1/?
Warning: Character (canonical) death, use of medication, self-hurt, angst, dark-fic. Pre-post Raggs War. SPOILERS FOR EVENTS OF THE BEIGLEITER ONE-SHOT AND MANGA.

Synopsis: Does he remember? They call him, trying to make him recall.

1:

The snow muffled their footfalls, dark boots throwing up innocent puffs of ivory white as the men ran, their attention roused by falling walls and dying screams. This was a war, and no-one looked away from spilled copper-red on white, black and gold and silver littering the horizon as far as they could see.

Even the innocent white could not conceal the death that lingered under a frightened sun seeking refuge from the stark reminder of humanity's mortality.

They were there, amongst ordinary men and women, an organization of creatures – because no-one dares to acknowledge them as humans, not with the darkness that dwells deep within them – bound together by the forbidden magic in their blood and the mutual attraction that make them gravitate towards one another, because they only had each other to turn to.

They were the reason why even the best fell under merciless blades; deadly, magnificent Warsfeil, once persecuted and still feared for the darkness in them.

And he is there, too, a figure of ebony and gold and cruel violet eyes, at the eye of a storm named death, gleaming metal and angry red dancing at his fingertips. He doesn't hold that position yet, but there are so many rumors about the silver-haired man, a brilliant prodigy with an unrivaled mind and immense power in battle, murmurs of him being that Death God given human form.

Back then, he is only a Colonel, the son of a noble stripped of rank. His name has been whispered amongst fellow cadets and superiors, the former looking upon him with disdain; it is his heritage that they laugh at, but they never dared to say where he could hear – even they could feel the malicious darkness from him. The latter feared him for the brilliant mind that hid behind violet eyes and the power flowing in his veins, feared that he would one day come to hold a rank above theirs.

The man with violet eyes and silver hair, son of a disgraced noble. But he is regal, and there is pride in his step, a strength that would never bow down, and he is the one in the lead, the young commander of the feared Black Hawks.

* * *

Ayanami had been sitting there for a few hours, eyes studying the terrain map laid out before him. In his mind, several different strategies played themselves out, but none of them was what he had been searching for. The fading amber sun had long since retreated behind the ominous snow-crowned peak that stood between them and the castle palace, and heavy mist had settled over the barely bustling camp.

There was always something lacking, something that he had missed out in the digital projection of white and brown and moving black dots.

Violet eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the map as if the barely physical image would tell him that crucial detail he knew he had missed. That detail was the reason why the troops before them had been stalled over and over again, and Ayanami knew it was more than just the snow that held them at bay.

The upper echelons of the military had ordered the small platoon of Warsfeil to the Raggs kingdom three days ago, with explicit orders to accomplish what their ground and air troops could not. Ayanami had shown no emotion when the order arrived, even though there was a nagging thought at the back of his head that the entire issue was because, once again – it always happens this way, and he has long since gotten used to it – someone with a grudge against him, some pathetic fellow-cadet – how he loathed to call them that, they could barely even stand against that brute in their exams and screamed like lowly worms – with connections and an utmost dislike against him.

The hate that fell against his shoulders were weights that couldn't bind him down.

Slender fingers had just picked up a pen when a knock at the door stalled his actions. He didn't have to look up to know who it was, eyes still studying the map display.

"Ayanami-sama."

If Ayanami was frigid ice given the form of a man, then this man would be life and fire condensed into humanity. Yukikaze stepped in, carrying with him what looked like a thermos and a mug, but the violet-eyed man was too fixated on the unsubstantial map before him to have paid attention to what his Beigleiter was holding. The smile on Yukikaze's face widened slightly at the sight of his workaholic superior glaring almost angrily at the map that refused to yield answers, gently laying an arm on his shoulder.

Violet turned to meet ebony black, and the quiet frustration that had plagued him seemed to dissolve away just a little. The past three days in the snow-cloaked land had been wearing down the normal soldiers, Raggs certainly had proven to be an adversary that required a slightly stronger hand. Even the rag-tag Warsfeil – there were only a handful of them then – had felt the pressure that lurked around them, the oppressive looks and expectations from the humans which made up the camp.

"Send platoons two and six to the north-west gate. I want the men there readied for a charge the minute that shield is down. Platoons three and five will provide support. Platoon one is to remain under my command." Ayanami hadn't touched the single thermos that his Beigleiter had set down on the desk before him, pen flying over an empty white surface to draft out that elusive strategy he had finally caught at the edge of his mind. Beside him, endless ebony merely followed the elegant words that had materialized on the paper, mentally committing each and every word to memory.

Moments passed in silence that way, until the soft click of boots interrupted Yukikaze's quiet reverie.

"Aya-tan's still working?"

Ayanami did not look up; he had heard the familiar footsteps as Hyuuga approached, but Yukikaze did, greeting the sunglasses-wearing Captain at the doorway with a polite smile. He had long since gotten used to the sudden, almost random visits that only one man would bother with at odd hours of the day, but he had could never understand how his silver-haired superior managed to put up with a subordinate who never seemed to give him any respect with that strange nickname and sunglasses that seemed eternally perched on his face.

No-one knew why the man always chose to wear those dark glasses that shielded his eyes, but no-one had dared to question; no-one ever did, Hyuuga was, first off, one of them, and secondly, he was one of the men in his unit.

Even Yukikaze had not asked Ayanami about the other dark-haired man that was clearly a presence in his life.

"What is it now, Hyuuga?"

Finally, the pen was set down and violet gazed up to meet shielded crimson – he knew those were the colors masked by tinted black, he had seen them before when they had still been young and somewhat carefree – a question painted clear in pale lavender, words that did not need to be said, questions that did not need to be asked.

Behind him, Yukikaze had retrieved the report from Ayanami's desk, all too aware of the sudden tension in the small room. It was almost as if watching two predators facing down, and without thinking, his hand wandered to where that cold blade hung, coming to a rest there before Yukikaze realized. He could have sworn the corner of the Captain's lips had curled into a smirk, but in the blink of an eye it had disappeared, leaving the bespectacled man to wonder if it had merely been his imagination.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." Now that smirk was back, and it made Yukikaze's dark eyes narrow just the slightest.

"Then why-" To his surprise, Yukikaze found himself cut off by a gloved hand and a gaze that seemed as calm as the sea before the storm. If it was what Ayanami willed, then he would obey, but he did not have to be happy about it. And he certainly wasn't, dark eyes glaring at the dark-haired Captain still standing there with that smug smirk on his face.

The silent face off that would inevitably happen every time the two of them crossed paths was broken by a slight movement in the room; Ayanami had risen to his feet, violet eyes glaring momentarily at his two bristling subordinates, a silent warning that didn't need words to be expressed.

"Inform the men that we depart at oh-six-hundred hours tomorrow. Hand the report to the General first thing tomorrow morning."

Ayanami did not waste time; once on his feet, he strode towards the exit, trusting that his Beigleiter would follow without a word, and Hyuuga stepped back just a little. His sunglasses slid down a little on his nose, exposing shadowed crimson, watching his superior calculatingly.

"So early, Aya-tan?"

His voice held nothing of the slyness that lurked in his eyes, sounding almost playful and teasing. A quick glance at the Beigleiter standing and bristling silently behind Ayanami made him want to grin, but calm violet had come to rest on him, and all Hyuuga would allow himself to do right now was a cheeky grin as his superior strode past him almost uncaringly.

"Must you always question his decisions?" It was Yukikaze who had spoken, an undercurrent of anger and frustration lurking in that seemingly calm voice. The hand unburdened by the file of paperwork had curled into a fist out of sight from the swordsman, his annoyance obvious to the silver-haired man who had merely turned to observe the sudden outburst.

"Yukikaze. That's enough." In the silence that had followed his Beigleiter's somewhat harsh words, Ayanami's voice cut through the angry fog that had momentarily blinded the younger man. His eyes directed a cool gaze at Hyuuga, a silent warning, and it would be the only answer the crimson-eyed swordsman would get from Ayanami, that threatening half-glare promising a darker fate if he continued his pointless antagonizing.

With that, the Colonel turned on his heel, striding down the now empty camp grounds towards the Black Hawks' temporary sleeping accommodations. A grin tugged at Hyuuga's lips, and, resting his hands on the back of his head, he strolled towards where the soldiers had gathered. How he hated to be the bearer of the bad news, but if it was what Aya-tan wanted, then he would do it.

Behind him, only Yukikaze turned slightly, casting a glare at the back of the now-retreating Captain, before jogging a little to catch up with Ayanami. Tomorrow's blood-red dawn would herald the day the Kingdom of Raggs fell.

* * *

They came to him, disembodied voices at the edge of his consciousness – he could hear them if he reached far enough – those bone-dry wings and taunting voices of the Wars he could control. He could even see them if he looked, but he did not care for them, those skeletal wings and nothing else. But even as the dark creatures came to the Warsfeil who manipulated them, he could tell from the quiver of fear in their whispers, there was something deeper, a darker malice, that made them obey his commands.

They had always whispered where only he could hear, master, what is thy command, fearful but gentle prods at his mind, never daring to intrude. Ayanami had learned soon after that the tremble in their wordless voices had been fear – those creatures could be terrified – he soon knew, they did not want to be destroyed.

Violet eyes opened, staring out at a snow-blanketed land, the dull echo of the Wars' whispers still ringing in his head – master, remember – entirely unsure of what those voices were trying to make him recall. Twenty-four years and he had always heard those murmurs, and twenty-four years he did not fully comprehend them. There was something deep within his own darkness that had stirred in response to them, but that had always been at the tip of his fingers, never able to grasp it.

Dimly, he felt a gentle weight on his arm, an anchor to reality tugging insistently at him, something that demanded his attention. He forced himself to focus on that, following instinctively until he saw dark hair and concerned eyes.

Apparently his mind had drifted, and the distraction was something Ayanami absolutely refused to allow himself to have. He would never drop his guard, not on the battlefield, it was too dangerous for him to do that. There were people – and people were the most dangerous of all predators – who would no sooner stab him in the back just to prove that they had the ability to dispose of him and those like him. A quick glance around placed him back on the oh-too-familiar landscape, black and silver lined neatly like toy soldiers on an ivory chessboard, and the lingering silhouettes of both his Beigleiter and fellow Black Hawk.

"Ayanami-sama, the General has issued the order for the troops to move out. He..."

It was the pause in his Beigleiter's voice that made the silver-haired man turn around to face Yukikaze, and as he did, caught sight of familiar dark glasses and crimson eyes, a silhouette that had emerged from the shadows merely seconds ago. The guarded look Hyuuga held made violet eyes narrow, there was something in his subordinate's look that spoke a thousand words to him before the man even said anything.

"The General's decided not to follow Aya-tan's strategy."

The swordsman cut in before Yukikaze could say anything, and for that earned a glare from the normally smiling man. A hint of a smirk curled at Hyuuga's lips, but this was no time to play smug with his superior's Beigleiter. His body was relaxed, but the eyes hidden behind the dark glasses watched Ayanami intently. The man standing there certainly held his emotions well, there was not a single shred of emotion on his face. Even those violet eyes gave absolutely nothing away, and for a moment, Hyuuga wondered idly, was there nothing that could agitate the calm mask Ayanami had on?

Then it hit with the force of a storm, the sudden outburst of darkness that swelled around him like an unstoppable wave; even the soldiers who held no black magic in their blood could sense it, the restless swirl that threatened to envelope them. It was a twisting feeling that both Yukikaze and Hyuuga could feel, the angered Colonel pacing before them, gloved hands clenched into tight fists.

It was common knowledge that the General spearheading the campaign against the Raggs Kingdom had an open dislike of Warsfeil. The disdain in his voice had been barely veiled, threats half-hidden in sharp words, and the man had made it an open point of ignoring the two dark-haired men who were constants beside the Empire-sent genius strategist.

"Ayanami-sama!" It was worry that tinged Yukikaze's voice, dark eyes widening at his superior's sudden outburst. It was rare for the man to even show anything beside the cool exterior he had always allowed others to see. Even Hyuuga started, taking a step forward, crimson eyes filled with concern, hooded from sight only by the darkness of the morning and the black-tinted glasses he wore.

"That man is a fool!" Anger tinged the voice that had lowered to a hiss. "Does he not realize what he is trying to do will destroy the troops and cripple the Empire?"

For all the power flowing where the eye could not see, his loyalty to the Barsburg Empire was entirely unquestionable. And this single General, a man who thought himself to be above monsters – they knew what they were called – had sealed his fate the very moment his actions threatened the empire Ayanami served.

The dark cloud that had started to gather in the sky looked horribly ominous, a foreboding mirror of Ayanami's destructive mood. His face had settled into an impassive mask, but there was a fire that burned in those cold violet eyes of his. Instinctively, Hyuuga and Yukikaze both reached for their weapons – they did not need words to know, for they too held the same kind of dark magic that their superior did – following the Colonel as he strode from his position. There was a malice in Ayanami's eyes, anger and the promise of death and slow torture as that lone figure made his way towards the front lines.

It was not going to be a pretty sight.

And it wasn't; watching the confrontation between the two men was almost as if watching two predators sizing each other up for a fight to the death. General Casner, so full of pomp to the point it had long since become excessive, merely sized up the leaner, silver-haired officer, entirely oblivious to the invisible swirl of anger that encircled the man, the silent storm held back by sheer willpower on his part.

But yet, the storm had calmed, it was now velvet masking cold steel, an entirely innocuous facade that hid the sharp knives waiting to tear its opponent apart.

"Explain." There was no mask for the deadly undertones in his voice. If looks could kill, Casner would have died several times over; Ayanami had fixed him with one of the glares that could make even the most battle-hardened soldier crumble under that intense lavender and violet.

"Now, now, Ayanami-kun." The suffix appended to the Colonel's name made Yukikaze's jaw tighten just the slightest, even though his silver-haired superior seemed indifferent to the lack of respect. What the Beigleiter didn't see was the smallest twitch of gloved fingers, as if something in them wished to allow angry crimson to form deadly words and remove the excuse of a human worm before him. "It's just a minor change in detail, I'm sure you won't mind, will you, Ayanami-kun?"

The utter lack of respect for Ayanami – the patronizing tone with which his name had spilled from that man's lips, the lack of courtesy to even acknowledge that he was there – made clamping down on the growl that had inevitably risen at the back of his throat almost impossible, until he felt a warmth encircle one of his clenched fists. Words etched in dull black were almost impossible to make out in the darkness of the early morning, but his eyes were trained for this.

He isn't worth it, words that did not need to be said given form in a language no-one else needed to understand. The warmth dissipated into the ice cold air moments later, the existence of those words merely a memory hidden behind depth-less ebony.

"Then you certainly understand the power of Mikhail's barrier." The words were cold, unaffected by the anger that simmered beneath his expressionless facade.

"Ayanami-kun, you're simply worrying too much. The barrier will not stand up against our Raphael, you know it. Besides..." The man did not respect him. He knew it as well, but for professional appearances, said nothing. Ayanami knew the words that were not said, that man would not hesitate to use his so-called authority to force him to back down.

If this cowardly excuse of a man who hid behind his rank, this so-called General – those words at the back of his mind were laced with disgust – wanted to stake his career on it, then he would allow him. Ayanami would be more than willing to present that man's head on a platter when the inquiry finally came.

"Very well." Even Yukikaze caught the General's breath of relief as Ayanami decided that wasting his effort arguing war strategies was not worth it. The man was truly a coward, hiding under the farce of rank and pompous antics. The dark-haired man turned to follow his superior as Ayanami spun on his heel, striding away from Casner.

"I want all Black Hawks on full alert. When the platoons move out, we will make our move then." It was more of protocol than actual need for which he said that. Their numbers were few and far between, and even though Casner had rank on his side, the Black Hawks only saw need to answer to the Field-Marshal himself.

Behind them, Hyuuga remained entirely unmoving, arms crossed over a broad chest, crimson eyes made unreadable by the darkened shield over them.

1: TBC

A/N: The timeline used here is pretty much made up from bits and pieces gleaned from the manga and omakes. Ayanami is 24 here, before his Chief of Staff appointment. And Casner is a fictitious made-up General, because someone has to be the generic ass that occurs every time.