Disclaimer: As always, I gain no profit, etc... I doubt anybody would pay for my writing.

Noir… it is the name of an ancient fate

Two maidens who govern death

To the depths of hell's fire their black souls lure the lost children

I am Noir.

No, we are Noir. The two maidens of death, born to carry the burden of the sin. We are the only ones who can commit the sins necessary to save this rotten world. This is what has been told to me ever since I remember and it is true. Just a few hours are left before we finally accede our fate.

I've donned my robe and fastened the belt. Altena will be proud of us. Today her years of work will be rewarded. Our enthronisation will recompense her for the hardship she had to suffer by the Council of the Soldats.

Those stupid old men. I can but sneer at them, those pathetic creatures. Only when I think of the lines of sorrow they have engrave into Altena's beautiful face over the years my disdain for them turns into white-hot anger. It had been people like them who have corrupted the Soldats.

Strike first, before your opponent can strike. That's their slogan.

They're no better than the ones they let be killed. Using their power to enhance their own wealth, they long have abandoned the noble course the Soldats were founded to follow. They deserve punishment. More than anyone else they are the foul core of the illness strangling the Soldats. And therefore they will get what they deserve.

I'm ready to leave for the ceremony and look at Kirika. She almost done, fastening the clasp of her belt now. I reach out a hand waiting for her fingers to entangle with mine so we both can be complete.

"Hello Kirika."

Clear a glass and just as sharp on her edges the voice cuts through solemn silence of the lake. This voice I never expected to hear again.

Why did she have to come? I knew she was an obnoxious person straight away from the first time I visited my destined partner at her flat, but I never thought she'd be so obtrusive to come to the Manor.

Kirika is after her, in a swift motion she closes the distance to the intruder and that blonde has no choice but to start running.

Poor woman. I sneer. She is a hopeless idealist, if she thinks the maiden of death is a match for her. After all Kirika washer partner, you'd expect her to know better. So much foolishness accumulated in one person is almost funny.

Mireille Bouquet why do you have to choose such an end? You could have lived undisturbed in Paris, or die not by hands of the Soldats, if you would only have left us be. Yet, I admit the show you put up here is quite entertaining. At least you're good at running.

I wait for my other half to end this child's play, so we can move on to the ceremony together. We mustn't be late for our fate.

Why does Kirika hesitate? Kirika outflanked the Corsican woman, all that keeps her from Noir is one single shot. Yet she just stares at her, aiming but not pulling the trigger. If you can't free yourself from the third sapling, I shall get rid of this weed.

She's already a little exhausted when I attack her. Still she tries to fight me. Evading my blade and aiming properly at the same time is too much for her. My knife scratches her delicate white skin, leaving tiny ruby trails on her flawless body.

Soon I've got the intruder cornered. Unarmed and unable to move quickly she's slumped on the ground before me. I stare down at her, this pathetic excuse of a candidate who should have never been allowed to strive for the holy duty of Noir.

I want to look into her eyes when I deliver her the final blow, so I can see the fear in her eyes, and the understanding that destiny is done with her.

I lunge forward to hear a shot.

Kirika, why?

We are Noir. It is our destiny to become the black handed maidens, the only one who can carry the world's sins. We both want this so why does Kirika delay it?

Everything was fine until this gadfly showed up. She came and intruded upon our harmony.

If she begs to meet her end here, so shall it be. I have more knives than one and this one will not miss her. But I don't see the Corsican's fear stricken eyes. I only see Kirika's deep beautiful eyes gazing at me.

Her regretful look tells me what has just happened even before I can feel the dull pain in my chest.

Actually I have known how this battle would end from the very beginning. Then why, one might ask, did I wield my blade in the first place? A trained professional shouldn't enter a lethal battle if she isn't sure to emerge as the victor.

It was an act of desperation if one will, for just as sure as I knew I could easily finish the third sapling off I also knew that Kirika would intervene.

The kiss she gave me told me I was fighting a loosing battle. There we were together as destined with nothing but our mere skin keeping our beating hearts apart and yet she showed now emotion. I held her and she let me.

This kiss was meant to be a gift, laying all my secrets bare for my other half, for us to truly be one, but Kirika couldn't even smile at me the way she had smiled at that weak blonde back in Paris.

Yet I tried, for the Soldats, for our fate.

"Noir…" is the last word that escapes my lips. I am the true Noir.

But the air disperses my body, the pounding of my heart slows down, leaving a limp vessel behind. The container to enwrap the great fate of the black maiden will stay empty.

I am only Chloé.

A/N: So this is another short Noir-fic about Cloé. When I was watching the show for the first time three years ago, I didn't like Cloé very much, but now that I'm writing I find her an intriguing character. She's loyal to the end and has a childlike naiveté, yet she's everything but innocent. I still don't like her paired with Kirika (she simply belong to Mireille) but I really like Cloé on her own now. Enough of my talk. I'm not quite satisfied with this fic, but I an't do any better at the moment, so I hope you guys will like nevertheless.

Leaf