Disclaimer: Gundam SEED and all its characters, mecha, worlds and other components belong to someone else. I own a squishy Haro doll.

A/N: First try at a multichapter for SEEDdom. Will be Athrun-centric with changes in perspective in later chapters; here's to hoping I can finish this. Special thanks to my twintwin, Cagalli on LJ, who RPed out a good chunk of what will become the basis of this story with me.

Warnings: AU, pairings, the usual. Anachronistic writing, meaning that the style and vocabulary don't quite fit with the setting. But anyway.


Apotelesma

(n.): the influence of the stars upon human destiny.

Prologue

The oldest of tales begin with four words;

Once upon a time.

Yet this tale fits not that beginning. For it is one which has not only occurred once upon a time, but many times before, and many times hence. The tale told here, then, takes place in a lost era, long before the age of machines and science.

The essence of it is forever the same, regardless of the players, the stage, the age. Conflict, from differences that cannot be accepted. Courage, in defiance in the face of all odds, knowing the truth that comes from the heart, and not the words of others. Love and friendship, forming ties that transcend earthly barriers, tempered through trials and hardships endured together. Destiny, who ordains all else, yet bending once more to pure will and hope.

And so once upon a time…


Chapter 1

The young man stifled a yawn.

Finger-drumming on rough stone proving to be a bad idea, he took to pacing instead, pausing every now and then to glance past the railing at the expanse of grass and trees and the misted town that lay beyond that. A lone path of cobblestone wended its way through iron gates and over private land, halting at the stout wooden doors he pictured in his mind's eye. Not a soul was to be seen on the grounds, tinged golden with early morning.

He continued pacing with slow, measured steps; exactly thirteen from one end of the balcony to the other. Frowning, he stopped altogether and sat on the railing, his legs dangling precariously over the edge. The coolness of stone seeped through his pants. His eyes were kept on the path.

A flash of red caught his eye, and he straightened abruptly, squinting.

Two figures slowly emerged from the hazy distance. The bright color that had attracted his attention solidified into hair, with a face and body beneath it, half-turned to his brown-topped companion as they walked. The former led a horse by the reins, a half-laden cart rattling along behind it.

A smile warmed the boy's features. Vaulting off the railing on the second floor, he landed on a bush, shocking a passing servant, and took off in a sprint.

The redhead looked up and nudged his companion with a grin. He turned, waving.

"Master Zala!" he called out cheerfully as the runner came up to them. Panting slightly, Athrun shook his head in mild exasperation.

"I thought I told you two before; don't call me that."

Tolle mock-glared at him. "And then what? Get into trouble with your father? We lowly peasants have to give proper respect to the lord and his family, after all." He waggled a finger. "You're trying to get me into trouble, but I'm on to your sadistic plans."

Athrun thwacked his shoulder lightly. "That's enough out of you. It's good to have you home." Clasping his arms around Tolle's shoulder in a brotherly hug, he smiled and turned to his other friend, who was eyeing them both with a cocked eyebrow.

"What, no touching reunion for me? I'm hurt," Rusty said, falling to his knees and clasping a hand to his heart with a woeful expression. The horse nickered softly.

"Nice to see you too, peon. Now, if you would stop groveling in the dirt at my majesty and escort me back to the house, you can give me your report."

Smirking, Athrun patted him on the head, pulling his hand away just as the redhead snatched at it. Growling, Rusty shook a fist.

"Just you wait, Zala! Someday us 'peons' will overthrow your evil tyranny yet!"

Laughing together, the three made their way back to the manor.

"So… what news from the city?"

They sat in the large kitchen, a warm fire crackling in the hearth and the scent of the evening's baked supper pervading the room. Tolle tore a chunk of bread from the roll he held and popped it into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

"Depensh," he replied. "Sherious newsh 'r no?"

"Well, here's some news I'd bet you'd like to know, Ath." Rusty smirked. "Tolle's in looove."

The aforementioned nearly choked on his food. Coughing and sputtering, he grabbed a mug and downed the cool water as Athrun looked on with amusement.

"When did that happen?" he asked as Tolle heaved and glared at Rusty, the former's face as red as the latter's hair. Rusty merely shrugged and thumbed at the guilty party. Athrun observed him curiously. "Tolle?"

"It's a long story," he mumbled, trying to hide himself behind the roll. Given the difference in size, it wasn't a particularly successful attempt.

"Her name's Mi-ri-al-lia," Rusty chimed in helpfully, the name rolling off his tongue. "But Tolle calls her Miri when no one's listening. Or at least when he thinks no one's listening. Ain't t-that sweet?" The last sentence was half-choked with laughter, which didn't really help Tolle's irritated expression. He seemed to be considering if homicide would be legal in certain situations.

The corners of Athrun's mouth twitched. "So what exactly drew you to her?" he asked, in an attempt to distract the boy from his murderous thoughts. Tolle blinked in surprise, and his expression softened.

"We met while I was delivering a package to a merchant. Haww, or something like that. She's his daughter, see." Sighing, he stared at a point above his friend's head with unfocused eyes. "She was so beautiful… and sweet, and cheerful, and--- I can't explain it. She's just special, y'know?"

"And he's got it bad for her, y'know?" Rusty added, imitating Tolle's dreamy tone. The latter playfully punched him on the back.

"Shut up, you. I'll bet you're just jealous because you can't get a girl yourself."

"I could anytime if I wanted."

"Yeah, like when you tried asking Sal out a month ago and she pu—"

"Ah, gentlemen?" The young lord tapped the table for their attention. "Up for a change in the subject?"

"Aye," both chorused. They glanced at each other and grinned sheepishly.

The conversation took a turn for the somber after that, as Athrun gleaned what he could from Tolle and Rusty's collection of rumors from their stint in the city. The body of it merely confirmed what he had suspected had been brewing for the past few months.

War.

"The king's been stocking up on soldiers in the capital, they say. Seems like they're getting ready for something big."

"Yeah, they've even posted conscription notices up in some parts."

"Could be that we're starting a campaign against them."

"'Them'?"

"You know, those Ferians. There's been more than a couple of incidents with them these days. Raids on border villages, waylaid travellers, that kind of thing."

Tolle unfurled a scroll on the table. The lines were roughly sketched and littered with intermittent scribbles by both boys, but Athrun could make out the large X marking the capitol, Versaillia, and the various townships that radiated from it.

His family's lands were located in the southwest; further on, squiggles indicated the Great Forest spanning the western border. A valley in the northern half led out through the mountains and into the desert. Rusty jabbed a finger at the little hut-drawings rimming the breach and adjacent forest.

"That's the area they've been talking about, and I'd bet my last copper on the king's army heading that way once they get going. There'll be an official proclamation pretty soon."

"…that doesn't seem like them. The Ferians have always left us alone."

"If the messengers are getting it right, looks like things are starting to change."

"For better or for worse?"

Tolle cocked his head, thoughtful. "Depends on who you're talking to, doesn't it?"

A candle burned from a window long after most of the manor's occupants had retired to bed. It glinted off a purple teardrop, resting on a desk within the room, bringing out a hue of deeper scarlet from the stone. Athrun held it between his fingers and reclined in the chair, gently brushing his thumb over the smooth surface.

"I had always hoped that it wouldn't have to come to this," he murmured. He glanced out the window at the woods beyond, the moonlight illuminating the tops of trees. His hand closed around the stone; a keepsake, to remind him of an old encounter.

"Wherever you are… be safe, Cagalli."