Disclaimer : All characters and places belong to whoever made them, ©2004-2007. If you do know, please answer in a review.
A/N: My first foray into the Nanoha fandom, so yay me! Do I have a lot plans for this section, just you wait and see :D.
This story is, at the present, the first in what you call my Author's Universe, as most other fanfics are set post-StrikerS. It has also been influenced by the writing style of Aldous Huxley's 'Brave New World'. The title, however, was in no way inspired by the role-playing game 'Baldur's Gate', because seriously, it just popped into my head and I stuck with it ever since XD.
So please enjoy. Concrit is always welcome.
Baldur's Gate
"Reason pervades the whole nature of things."
-- Zeno of Citium
You cannot fight it. You cannot change it. You cannot challenge it. For the sake of reality and actuality, it is impossible to try.
So why, Fate, do you insist on tampering with it?
"Bardiche!"
"(YES, SIR. SCYTHE FORM, SET UP...)"
The device's metal head collaspes on itself, and twin blades of golden energy sprout from within the guard. Winds howl as the black-clad mage falls through layers upon layers of clouds, fighting to contain a speed magic and mere will alone cannot stop. That white speck above her -- the girl she knows as Nanoha Takamachi -- steadily grows. Beneath her lays the unforgiving ocean, so clear and blue and old as time.
If it wasn't for the heat of battle, she would have looked upon it and absorbed the depth of beauty which hid in the fabric of reality. And if it wasn't for that thought she knows that falling head-first into the water would very well be akin to jumping off a building and splattering all over the concrete.
She holds out her free hand, and from the bowels of her mind a barrier forms. With a flip she's on her feet, drawing back Bardiche. Burgundy portals watch as Nanoha comes closer and closer.
'Like a shooting star,' she muses, thinking of the times she sees them cutting through the dark cloak that suffocates the Garden of Time. But now isn't the time to wander.
Energy builds up and Bardiche beckons with a warm glow on her hands. Right when she makes out the colors of her barrier jacket, the wisps of brown hair, and the gleaning staff of Raging Heart she sends the Arc Saver flying. Pushing with everything she's got; into her body, her mind, and the cores which bound mage and servant as one entity.
Nanoha rolls away just as it roars past her, and before she knows it the white warrior brings Raging Heart down upon her. A window of time manages to prevent extenuating damage, but it's exactly what she needs. They struggle -- oh how they struggle! -- pressed to claim their right of strength and passion!
They move, stars exploding in dead silence. Across the sky they flee, disrupt the flow of dimensions. There is no stopping, no break, no weak will to entangle their bounds of honor.
Their shadows fall.
It is beyond your control. It is beyond your power. It is out of the reach of every mortal being, magical and non-magical. There is nothing you, or anyone, can do about it.
So why, Fate, do you persist?
The whip snaps, a stinging bite of wrath.
It hurts, hurts so very badly. It stings of wrath and licks with hellish delight, gnawing at open welts and naked skin. Sweat gathers at her fevered brow, chained beneath a scorching light more crueler than the Sun.
And yet it is not hell. Hell is the realm of demons and fire and sulfur and brimstone. Hell is for the wicked, the sinned, and the unforgiven. Hell houses the Devil.
This isn't hell. This is home, the Garden of Time. This is home of the House of Testarossa.
(Oh, how it burns! Oh, the snakes with their forked tongues and surreptitious eyes!
(But she does not see that. She does not learn to comprehend that. Not yet).
"Why, Fate?" comes her mother's voice, rich and sweet as wine. "Why do you tempt me? Do you like seeing me wallow in grief? Why, Fate?"
With her hand she grabs her chin, lifts it up so they see eye to eye, brown and grey, light and darkness (and there are no shaded areas).
She doesn't remember seeing those eyes burn so wickedly.
"You are too cruel, Fate," says Precia. "Do you know that? I thought you were better than that."
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' She tries to force them out, let her mother know she didn't mean to upset her, let her know she gave her best.
She's so tired, so very very tired. The whip, the heat, the pain . . .
Was there mercy in Eden?
When she opens her eyes she's on the floor, broken and lacerated. Precia towers above her, nine Lost Logia floating in repose.
". . . If it is at all possible," she hears upon awakening. "hurry and gather the remaining Jewel Seeds for me, my daughter."
She groans, closing herself off from the heavenly brightness.
There cannot be.
You cannot escape it. You cannot try. You cannot will. You cannot determine. It is vast. It is void. It is eternal. It is infinite.
So why, Fate, do you insist on changing it?
"But don't you see?! Don't you see what she's doing to you?!"
What she does see is Arf bowed to the floor, hiding her tears and shame. Her tears, for one, because Arf is a tough person, a very protective guardian, and a fiercely loyal Familiar. Her shame, on the other hand, because it's not enough to stop the whippings and beatings her master receives.
This isn't the first time she's showed her concerns. However, this is the first time she's extremely upset. The way her shoulders shake and the tortured sounds of her sobs indicate that.
"I j-just want y-you to smile . . ." she hiccups. "I want you t-to smile a-and be happy, Fate! Why c-can't you un-understand that?"
Her heart palpitates, an unsettling rattle in her ribcage. "I do, Arf, but I want to grant Mother's wish. It's not just for her . . . I'm sure it is for myself as well. So please, stay with me . . . just a little longer. There are only a few more left . . . so won't you give me your best?"
"Just promise me," begins Arf. Her gazes comes up off the floor and into her mountain-colored portals, tinged with the afterglow of sorrow. "promise me you're doing it for you and you alone and not that woman. Then I will definitely protect you."
She reaches out and strokes the dog-woman's mane. She knows it's not enough to calm the embattling storm inside her (both of them), but for now it's all she can do.
She nods her head. "I promise, Arf. I promise."
It's all she can do.
It is everywhere. It was nowhere. It is anywhere. It is somewhere.
But where?
Where can you find it?
Their devices collide with a magical surge. Thunder roars in their ears, a clash between Heracles and Cerberus the Hell-Hound.
Bardiche is blazing, pumping fresh energy into the scythe blade. It's like the nectar of the Gods, smooth and viscous, and when she tastes it it's so clean and pure. It is liquid untainted by earthly extractions and weightless odors. (And how wonderful it is! she thinks, to be granted with such power).
She stares into those eyes, so blue and vast and all-encompassing. Almost as if she could dive in those depths and find herself drifting, drifting amongst the cosmos, amongst stars green and grey, amongst planets out of orbit and clouds of nebulous dust. And then, as she wanders, she reaches an end. Maybe an End, for it is the Center of the Universe, the Cradle of Birth, but perhaps it is a Beginning. A place where all Thought is Understood.
It may seem too much for such a child to piece together, but that is what she sees in those eyes. Those cosmic, radiant orbs of seraphic blue.
(In time she will realize they are like the ocean and that they are beautiful. She will realize that hidden reality in another age).
'But she is just a mage,' she tells herself. 'She wouldn't know.'
How the truth can be disconcerting.
"Why?" Nanoha says, struggling to maintain the balance in power. She, too, is staring into her soul. "Why are you doing this?"
Again, she thinks, 'She wouldn't know. She is just a mage.'
I am a Servant.
"Even if I told you," she begins, and her voice emits the strange, stolid wisdom that will haunt Nanoha in her thoughts and dreams. "it will mean nothing to you."
I am a Servant. You are a Mage.
You wouldn't know a thing.
Why fight it? Why resist it? Why dare it? You cannot escape it. You cannot force it. You cannot even fathom it.
And yet . . .
You want to.
You want to change it.
You want to test it.
You want to fight it.
You want to will it.
And yet . . .
How can that be?
It is! Oh how the Truth hurts! Oh how it pains to know!
But she knows, knows more than any person on the face of the Earth, on the face of the universe and all that lays in between Nothing and Everything, knows more now that she heard the reason of her short-lived existence.
She is a clone. A tit-for-tat copy of a girl so much like her, so much so it frightens her. It compels her to think that blood was shed for jewels stained in blood. It makes her realize the nihilism in her soul.
What soul? she would think. Without Cause, there is no Purpose. Without Purpose, there is no Existence. For I am Empty.
empty.
Empty.
EMPTY!
"I'll let you know something, Fate," says Precia, her tongue venomous. "Ever since I created you, I've always hated you!"
The point hits home.
The Universe collapses.
'Why?' she utters. The brink of destruction draws nigh. 'Oh Heavens, why?'
She falls to her knees, her vision hazing. Something (someone) grabs her, calls out to her, but she no longer believes the world is whole, no longer sees vanity between Gods and Men.
"There is no love for me," she answers.
And the Void comes.
You are Fate.
You are Destiny.
You cannot remove what is set in stone.
Look at how they shine! Look at them bring the sunrise and in return free the caged clemency to light!
She did not think blue could be so beautiful. She did not think it could hold one thousand meanings. Yet it does, and from the gardens of Gethsemane sprouts a pair of wings, and a dove takes flight.
Nanoha holds a hand to her heart. The Jewel Seeds give off a soft luminescence, giving her an angelic air.
"I want us to be friends."
Flocks leap from the bushes, and together they rise toward the Sun.
She smiles.
. . . Ah, I see. I see now.
You are Fate. You are Destiny. You cannot remove what is set in stone.
But you are Free. You are Willing. You are Thought. You are Mind.
That's right . . .
Like a two-faced god the doors shall open. Listen, child, and you shall learn.
Fate opened her eyes. Calm washed over her being. She looked to Bardiche, who was wrapped in her hand.
"Fly with me," she proposed.
"(UNDERSTOOD.)" came the reply.
Then they were gone.
But there came a time when Fate could not fly. The charges were made and they were many. Nine counts for the theft and sealing of the Lost Logia; one count for the disruption of peace; one count for assaulting an officer of the Time-Space Administration Bureau; and one count for conspiracy. There was to be a probation period and a trial scheduled at the dawn of the new year.
Fate accepted the terms willingly. There was not much else she could do to object them, but she understood that it was her who gave the Bureau more than just headaches.
However, she was surprised when Chrono (via Captain Lindy's order) told her she could see Nanoha. It would be a long while before they would meet again, but the results from that winding road would be worth it.
The minutes were ticking by. The waves beneath the bridge were curling to and fro. All the things she wanted to say vanished upon looking at Nanoha. Fate's insides ached with a longing that was not due for quite a bit, but time was short.
Suddenly there was an echo; Fate thought it to be her imagination, a by-product of repressed emotions. But it rang clearly, softly:
Listen, child. Listen, and you shall learn.
She listened, listened with all the intent in the world. She listened, and she understood. She turned around, took a deep breath, and spoke.
She told Nanoha how happy she was to be faced with true honesty. She told her how sad she was to leave behind a mage she could call her equal. She told her she glad to start anew, to pave a fresh path and follow it beyond the horizon.
She told her . . . she wanted to be friends. But, she asked, where would she start?
Nanoha smiled brightly. "It's very simple. Just look straight into her eyes and say her name."
Simple, indeed! Fate was stunned by this revelation. Nanoha, who saw Fate's silence as hesitation, added, "I'm Nanoha Takamachi. Just call me Nanoha!"
'Nanoha . . .' How would it sound on her lips? Fate swallowed, her throat unexpectedly dry. Then, a stutter: "Nano . . . ha."
The girl nodded. "Yes! Yes, like that!"
"Nanoha," she repeated more confidently.
"Yes!"
"Nanoha," She smiled. "Nanoha." So lovely! So soft and comforting that bells would ring the sweetest psalms! "Nanoha."
And Nanoha, with tears in her eyes, nodded fiercely. "Yes! Yes!"
She threw herself into Fate's arms, and Fate caught her and held her close. She buried her face in Nanoha's hair and inhaled the scent of wheat and ocean salt. Her grip tightened, clinging for dear life, holding for that ray of hope.
"It's all right," she murmured. "We'll meet again. And when we do, let me call out your name. Let me say it so that I may save you, as you have saved me." These words made Nanoha cry harder, but Fate stayed her, sharing her own flood of gratitude.
Moments later Chrono approached them. It was time to go.
Fate started to move, but stopped at hearing her name. She turned around and immediately noticed Nanoha's short, loosened hair flying freely in the wind. But what caught her eye were the pink ribbons clutched in her hand.
"This is all I can give you," said the white mage. "That way, I'll stay in your memories."
Fate was touched by her kind display. Blushing, she unfurled her pair of black ribbons. Their free hands clasped, warm to the touch (and Fate noted it was nothing like the Sun back at home).
It was going to be hard to forget such a face.
"Thank you, Nanoha. I'm sure we will meet again."
It was going to be hard to brave this loneliness.
"Of course we will, Fate-chan. We will meet again!"
But as they said their farewells and gave well-wishes, she knew full well the One Truth.
The wait would be worth it in the end.
One chapter ends. One story is come and gone. But it is only the Beginning, for rarely do goodbyes mean forever.
Godspeed, Fate Testarossa. Baldur's Gate is always Open.