A/N: So I've started a new story (obviously XD) and I hope you like it. I am still hard at work on 'Dance into my Heart', though, and don't plan to be done with it for a while. (I actually have three fics I'm working on at once.) With this one, I wanted to do something fantasy-like, and in this story there will be a few characters I made up just to make the story better. I guess. Anyway, I do not own Bleach, but I will take credit for my made up characters. And I was seriously thinking about drawing at least one fanart image for this fanfic, but I haven't completely made up my mind yet DX Following this note will be a short list of one of my OCs, and I will be sure to make note in any other chapters reguarding to any new characters being introduced. Again, thanks for all your continued support, and I hope you enjoy!
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OC in this chapter:
King Turon- Grimmjow's father. Powerful wizard, lost his wife several years ago after she had given birth to two sons, Grimmjow and Kirran. Lost other son(died still in mother's womb). Owns pet dragon, which can breathe and control ice and lightning.
Appearance: Long pale blue-silver hair to middle of back; keeps half tied and braided. Bangs fall over left eye. Scar around neck. Lightly tanned skin. His age is unknown, although he looks to be in his mid-to-late fifties. Always wears a thin gold chain necklace with diamond-shaped gold pendant depicting a small image of his pet dragon, a gift from his wife. Still wears platinum and gold band around left ring finger.
Eye color: Light blue-gray.
Clothing: Long robe with flared sleeves. Color: Dark blue with silver constellation designs, gold swirls on gray trim around end of sleeves, down front and around bottom of robe. Silver rope-like belt tied around waist and slung over right hip.
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'The valley green was so serene
In the middle ran a stream so blue...
A maiden fair, in despair, once had met her true love there and she told him...
She would say...
"Promise me, when you see, a white rose you'll think of me
I love you so,
Never let go,
I will be your ghost of a rose..."
Her eyes believed in mysteries
She would lay amongst the leaves of amber
Her spirit wild, heart of a child, yet gentle still and quiet and mild and he loved her...
When she would say...
"Promise me, when you see, a white rose you'll think of me
I love you so,
Never let go,
I will be your ghost of a rose..."
When all was done, she turned to run
Dancing to the setting sun as he watched her
And ever more he thought he saw
A glimpse of her upon the moors forever
He'd hear her say...
"Promise me , when you see, a white rose you'll think of me
I love you so,
Never let go,
I will be your ghost of a rose..."'
-Blackmore's Night-
XXX
The tall soldier stood as still as the night, watching the area around him. He was broad shouldered, with tanned skin accented by thick black tattoos covering most of his arms. He had long, unruly hair the color of the sky on a clear day that he kept pulled back and tied near the top of his head, a long, angular face with full lips, and his eyes were deep blue with darker blue swirls resting inside. He was wearing a dark blue shirt with no sleeves underneath a black vest with multiple pockets lining the fabric, each pocket hiding weapons of all kinds, black linen shorts with more pockets with concealed weapons, and black leather boots. His left arm sat behind his back, while his right arm held on to a long staff with a rather large blade protruding from the top. Tied around the top of the staff, just under the blade, was a thick, brown leather strap with a tuft of shiny jet black fur stitched through it. This particular weapon had once belonged to his father, a man who ruled his kingdom with pride and was feared by all those who had once threatened to overtake him and his throne, but had failed miserably, resulting in the end of the war between all neighboring kingdoms and their tribes.
Until the night when a few unsuspecting assassins had found a way to sneak into the castle. They had made it into the throne room where the king had been, and cut off his head. You see, in this particular kingdom, called Tyrinnia, almost everyone was immortal. There was a wide variety of Immortals, most of them either vampires or werewolves. The surrounding land was home to all kinds of creatures as well. The only way to kill an immortal being was to chop off the head, then burn the body. Needless to say, they didn't know that they needed to burn the body in order to fully kill him, and instead, found themselves tied up and gagged and were tortured to death.
The man grunted as he remembered back to those times. He had never known his mother, for she died giving birth to him and his brother. One boy didn't make it and died still in the womb. The other boy was sent to a neighboring kingdom to be raised, and then trained as a warrior. Grimmjow's father, King Turon, had kept a very close watch on him and when he turned fifteen, was trained as a bodyguard and mercenary to protect the land from intruders. Grimmjow was a Shapeshifter. The only one known to belong in the kingdom since after his mother passed; she had been one as well. Normally, Grimmjow would change shape everytime he stood watch over the grounds, but for some reason, had decided against it. Usually, a Shapeshifter could only shift into any type of animal, but Grimmjow has had years to master his skills at manipulaton. When the time called for it, he could shift into other people by just seeing them in his head, which was mostly used to infiltrate the enemy kingdoms. The wind was blowing softly, ruffling through Grimmjow's hair and carried with it the scent of passionfruit and lavender. He didn't know where that smell was coming from, but it was intoxicating and Grimmjow decided he liked it. Very much.
Grimmjow sighed, and was brought out of his trance by someone calling his name.
"Hey, Grimm? How are you faring?" A man with long black hair and pale skin stepped from behind a tree. He looked at the man before him with only his right eye, since he had lost his left in battle and always wore a white cloth to cover the scars. This man was a werewolf, and one of Grimmjow's closest friends. He was wearing a black and red vest underneath a long black trench coat, had gold cuffs on both ears, and always wore a red silk choker with black lace trim and three small gold chains that connected to a black and gold plated wolf head with teeth bared. On his feet were simple black leather boots. His one eye was a deep violet color, but when he turned werewolf, it became a deep red with violet specks. He stopped beside his friend of many years and raised a hand to his back. "Is something troubling you tonight?"
The blue haired man winced at his given nickname and glanced briefly at the man next to him. "Why must ya call me that, Nnoitra? Ya know I can't stand it."
Nnoitra laughed and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Sorry, Grimmjow. Yer name is just too damn long, and I don't wanna hafta say it every time I speak to ya."
Grimmjow just stood there quietly for a moment and was just about to speak when he heard rustling in the distance. "Go back to the kingdom and watch for intruders. I can handle this." As his friend stepped away and into the trees, Grimmjow walked cautiously forward, both hands gripping his weapon. It was always night in this particular area due to a spell that the King had cast, which made it nearly impossible for outsiders to find the kingdom that towered beyond, and as he came to the edge of the woods, he perched the staff against a tree and peeked through into the clearing. Deep blue eyes scanned the surrounding area, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Being one who is always prepared no matter what, he began to change shape. Tensing his shoulders, a slight tremble raked through his body, starting with his hands and quickly moved up his arms and back down through his chest and legs. Doubled over, he clenched his fists against his chest until skin was replaced with jet black fur and fingers turned into claws that retracted inside paws as big as a grown man's fist, if not slightly bigger. His once black tattoos turned blue and sat nicely against the sleek black fur sprouting from the rest of his body. Legs gained more muscle as they changed shape, ending in two more paws with thick fur. Blue hair turned black and grew slightly shorter, staying thicker by the back of his neck and became shorter and more spiked towards his back, and grew around pointed ears. Four strands of fur fell over eyes bluer than the ocean. A thick tail sprouted from the area just above the hind legs, and had short, spiky fur that protruded from the top of it and all the way down to the tip. His teeth grew longer and sharper and thick black whiskers extended from the maw by his nose. The transformation was complete. With a deep, feral growl, Grimmjow stretched each of his legs and extended his claws, then with a final shake, slowly stalked his way into the clearing.
The moonlight was shining gloriously through the dense canopy of trees, making the area significantly chilly as many different types of animals roamed freely. There were birds of all kinds and colors sitting in trees, some preening their feathers, others building nests or flying off to hunt. Smaller animals, like squirrels and rabbits, moved lazily over the ground, not even caring that there was a really big cat with sharp teeth moving alongside them. A red fox mother carefully watched over her young ones while they played a game of hide-and-seek tag. Grimmjow grunted and stepped up to the small creek and leaned down to steal a drink of the clear water, then raised his nose and sniffed the clean air. He didn't sense danger of any kind, but that still didn't mean that there wasn't someone here who didn't belong. He turned to leave but stopped as hundreds of animals quit what they were doing and began quickly running, hopping, or flying to the other side of the clearing. Confused, he just stared. Then he heard it.
Soft music floated through the air, blending perfectly with the chirps and soft grunts from the animals that quickly made their way to see who had entered their home. Grimmjow twitched his ears as he slowly followed alongside the stream until he came around the corner and stopped to sniff the air again. He smelled fresh water and could see a large waterfall on the left side of the clearing, water gushing freely over the side that ran into a large lake, which stretched on ahead for miles. Stopping just behind a tree, he listened to the slow, sad music that, at first, seemed to come from nowhere in particular. But as he turned his head to the right, his eyes stopped on a figure sitting beside the steady flow of water. Whoever it was had their back to him, so Grimmjow couldn't see their face. He cautiously stepped from behind his hiding spot and slowly walked closer, eyes never leaving the figure's back. When he got close enough, he let out a low growl as a warning. He wasn't prepared for what happened next...
Music stopped playing as soft, honey-brown colored eyes turned in his direction. The beautiful orbs were wet from tears and there were still tear marks running down the stranger's face. He was thin but well toned; Grimmjow could clearly see the definitions of muscles under the slightly damp skin that covered them almost delicately. Not super thin, nor extremely built, like Grimmjow himself. He had the most amazing tanned skin that glistened in the bright moonlight, which just made his eyes shine even brighter. Full lips were slightly downturned into a sad frown. Grimmjow's eyes traveled the length of the stranger's mostly bare chest when he turned towards him, growling in response. He looked to be younger than Grimmjow by several years. Grimmjow couldn't believe what he was seeing. This had to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen in all his life.
Grimmjow took a few more minutes just to look at the stranger before him, immediately noticing how his long, flowing orange hair stopped near the middle of his back and framed his face and eyes. He was wearing nothing but a thin veil of white cloth, with one piece slung over his right shoulder, which cascaded down the length of his right arm and fanned out around his slender wrist, and was held in place with a topaz jewel set in a crescent-moon shaped gold clasp. The thin fabric covered the right side of his chest, leaving the left side completely bare, but met another crescent-moon shaped jewel on his left hip, the rest of the fabric resting as light as a feather against his slender thighs. He also wore a thin gold and topaz chain belt around his waist which had several smaller chains extending from where the belt sat at his right side that traveled halfway down his leg, and resting around his forehead was a gold piece of jewelery that had two topaz crescent moons kind of in the shape of a curved 'W', and where the two shapes crossed near the bottom was a small ruby in the shape of a star. Resting on the soft, plush green grass beside him was a small golden harp, encrusted with hundreds of tiny emeralds. Grimmjow couldn't help but stare at the beauty before him, his breath hitching in his throat. His blue eyes generously wandered all over the stranger's body, marveling at the sight so deliciously spanned out like a wonderful feast. He also couldn't help but notice what looked like small jewell-like scales all over the stranger's arms, chest, and parts of his legs. Grimmjow's eyes traveled the length of the stranger's back and stopped on the super thin cloth covering the man's backside, the fabric doing nothing to hide the thin line separating the two firm but soft looking cheeks underneath. Such a heavenly sight to behold, indeed.
All of a sudden, a hand reached out towards Grimmjow, catching the otherwise alert man off guard as he emitted a snarl, lowered his head, and turned his ears backwards. The stranger pulled his hand away, wiped the tears from his eyes, and slowly pushed his hand forward again, this time placing it gently against the underside of Grimmjow's jaw, and lightly stroked the soft fur there. Grimmjow tensed his whole body and watched the captivating specimen in front of him, and wondered why there was the feeling of intense heat everywhere the long fingers touched. Grimmjow finally noticed that the sweet fragrance he smelled earlier, seemed to be emanating from the stranger. Then, the orange-haired young man pulled away and sat back on his heels. Grimmjow tried to still his wandering gaze, but couldn't help but notice the most intimate part of a man's body, barely concealed behind the super thin fabric. Had he been in human form, Grimmjow would have pulled the stranger in for a demanding kiss, just to see how it would feel. Suddenly the stranger spoke, his voice like melted chocolate.
"I have never seen a more beautiful creature in all of my life. And as you can see," the stranger turned his head in both directions and lifted his hand to gesture to the many animals surrounding the two of them. "I have seen many different creatures. And many who resembled you in some way. But, you have such beautiful black fur, and I have never seen anything like it before. I wish you could tell me, blue-eyed one, what kind of creature you are..."
Grimmjow wanted to tell him, but alas, he could not speak freely in this form, nor any other animalistic form he took on. The only way he could speak was with his mind, but only when he held a close connection to the people around him, and could hear what they were thinking. But this stranger that was so carefully examining him and speaking to him as if they had not just met, was unreadable to Grimmjow. Growling softly as a response, he tilted his head to the side and watched with fascination as the stranger leaned in close enough to bury his saddened face into the thick fur atop his head and inhaled deeply, sighing as he scratched behind an ear then pulled his face away to gaze into Grimmjow's eyes before speaking again.
"Even though you cannot talk, I would like to keep you."
Grimmjow shuddered and stared intently into the honey-brown eyes before him, the urge to show his true form agonizingly strong. Knowing that it would be a bad idea, he just huffed and blinked his cerulean eyes. 'This one is strange,' Grimmjow thought to himself. Though he couldn't distinguish it for sure, he couldn't help the feeling that there was something different about this man. But no matter what it took, Grimmjow would find out what it was.
Suddenly, there was a loud deafening explosion that came from just beyond the dense trees, causing Grimmjow to turn in the direction of the sound, his hackles raised and claws extended. Before he could do anything else, he heard a loud splash behind him and the scurrying of hundreds of animals running to hide. Turning his head once again, he saw that he was now alone in the clearing, the water still rippling from the interruption. And there, resting beside the lake, was the small gold harp that the stranger had been playing only moments before. Part of him wishing he could stay and wait for the stranger and the other part knowing that his kingdom needed him, Grimmjow picked up the harp in his mouth, being careful not to scratch the delicate surface with his sharp teeth. Then he broke into a full run, meeting Nnoitra in werewolf form as he quickly rounded the trees, both of them running to the aid of their home.
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"That makes twenty for me! You're too damn slow, Nnoitra," Grimmjow yelled as he sliced into the skull of a man not much older than himself, ripping the blade out and shoving the lifeless body to the blood-stained ground. He had a wide grin on his face, which only made him look even more psychotic with all the blood he was covered in. But that was how he liked it. Someone had to teach these bastards a lesson, and Grimmjow was more than willing to do it himself. However, he and Nnoitra always had this type of competition going, where they just went all in-your-face on their enemies, each trying to out-kill the other. Another group of men all carrying either swords, longbows, or axes came bursting through the destruction, quickly running towards Grimmjow and all his men, trampling over several mangled bodies along the way. "Shit, there's more. Nnoitra, go into the castle and find my father. Make sure he's okay, and then get all the women and children and take them to the underground passage. Can you do that?"
The raven-haired man cackled as he raised his left hand to tear out the throat of the man that attempted to tackle him, throwing the oozing flesh to the ground. "Che, of course, Master Blue. Don't you even think about gettin' yerself killed, yeah?" Then he howled; an eerie, menacing sound that always seemed to cause the hair on Grimmjow's neck to stand, and shifted into his werewolf form then ran on thick, muscular hind-legs into the chaos pouring from the castle walls.
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After a few more minutes of fighting, the sound of a horn of some kind rang out, signaling the enemy's retreat. Grimmjow gathered his wits as he scanned the now silent courtyard, the stench of multiple dead bodies filling the air around him. They never seem to learn that they can't win, no matter how well-thought out their strategies may be. What a nuissance. But then he thought back to his encounter with that stranger from earlier that day, and wondered if the young man was alright. Hell, Grimmjow didn't even know the guy, but he couldn't help the feeling of anger and over-protectiveness rising in his gut like a silent storm ready to demolish everything in its wake. What the hell was up with that? He sighed long and hard, running a hand through his messy hair as footsteps sounded from behind him. Turning, he found himself staring into the eyes of his father, the older man looking a little worse-for-wear as he held out a book to Grimmjow. It was black leather with gold lettering, and was bound shut with a blood-red satin ribbon. Taking the thick, heavy book in his hands, he rubbed one over the words on the cover and gasped softly as the words began to glow a soft shade of white at his touch. "Father...w-what is this?"
King Turon smiled softly as his son marveled at the tome he bestowed upon him. He could tell by his eyes that his son was growing more confused with each turn of the book from hand to hand. He knew the time had come. "Grimmjow. I want you to listen to me. That book belonged to your mother many years ago. Its contents will help you greatly on your journey."
Grimmjow lifted his blue eyes to stare into his father's, his mind not quite grasping what he was being told. "Journey?"
The king smiled. "Yes, my son. Be warned, your journey will be long and dangerous. There is an incantation placed upon the tome in your hands which forbids anyone but you to open it. Guard it well. Also, you may take anyone from this kingdom that you see fit to accompany you. You have one month to gather the supplies you may need. I have faith in you, Grimmjow."
"But, father, what about you? And the rest of the kingdom? How can I protect you if I'm not around-"
The king smiled sadly and placed his hand on Grimmjow's shoulder. "Son, you need not worry yourself. I am the king, so as always, I will look after our home and protect those in it. It is very important that you do this. Bringing your brother home will not end this war, but it will give me peace of mind."
"My brother? What are you talking about?!" Grimmjow was confused. All these years, and he was just finding out that he had a brother? "Why didn't you tell me this before now? Did you not think that I had the right to know-"
"Grimmjow. Please calm down. I wanted to tell you, but I feared that if I told you the truth, you would have sought him out without thinking about your duties here. You two were separated for a very good reason, my son. But also during a very sad and unexpected time in our lives. Therefore, now it is time for you two to be reunited once again." Upon seeing the look on Grimmjow's face, a mixture of utter confusion, love, and betrayal, King Turon smiled again and wrapped his son in a warm hug. "When your mother passed away...I had to make very hard decisions on my own. I am sorry for not telling you sooner. But there is no need to dwell on things long since passed." The elder man pulled back to look into his son's eyes. He knew that Grimmjow would face many dangers, among other things, but he knew that his son would never back down from anything. He was not weak. He was not a coward. This was his destiny, and it was time for Grimmjow to embrace it. "Go now, son. You need your rest."
Grimmjow shook his head slightly, running a shaky hand through his blood-soaked hair. This was a lot to take in so suddenly, but since he only had a month to prepare for this journey, he would do what he needed to do in order to be more than ready, and in less time. "N-no. I mean, I would much rather get started now so that I can leave sooner. Plus," Grimmjow motioned towards the expanse of bodies on the ground. "I'll help clean this up."
Turon laughed heartily, blue-gray eyes twinkling in amusement. Grimmjow was just like his mother, always thinking of those around him instead of himself. It was a shame that neither son had the chance to meet their mother before she died... "Grimmjow, please. You need not worry, I can take care of things here. But you really do need to get some rest. And Nnoitra was looking for you as well, and he seemed rather distressed. Best to not keep him waiting, we all know how he can get with that temper of his."
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Grimmjow sighed deeply as he slowly made his way through the now semi-quiet castle, servants quickly bustling around to clean up the mess from the recent battle. Having already decided that seeking out his rowdy best friend could wait until after he cleaned himself up, Grimmjow made a beeline for his bed chambers, hoping that he would not be disturbed at least until he was ready to be disturbed. His father's words played like an intricate melody through his already frazzled mind, which only made him think more about the enticing stranger from earlier with that beautiful orange hair, long legs and arms that seemed to go on for miles, and those eyes...deep honey-brown orbs wet with tears, the sadness pouring off him in gentle waves. Of course Grimmjow didn't know what had caused the angel-like specimen to be so sad, and honestly, he couldn't help wanting to know. Couldn't help feeling like it was solely his duty to find out so he could comfort him and show him that there was no reason for his sadness. No reason to be alone...
Just as Grimmjow pushed his door open, he was stopped by a loud crash behind him. He turned his menacing blue eyes in that direction and was greeted by a less-than-winded Nnoitra, deep scowl etched on his pale face. Realizing that the crash was merely caused by his best friend's careless running through the halls, Grimmjow just sighed and stepped inside his dark room, trying to ignore the raven-haired man behind him. "What is it, Nnoitra? Could this not wait until after I cleaned up a little?"
"No. I need ya ta come with me fer a minute. It's important."
Grimmjow turned to give his friend the full attention he was seemingly craving and folded his thick arms over his chest. "Okay, but explain first." Grimmjow really hoped that it WAS something important, because he really didn't want to rush in blindly only to find out it was a trick or some shit. Nnoitra had a disturbingly sick habit of doing that.
"Tch, fine. I was wandering the grounds beyond the castle, ya know, where it's always dark and shit? Anyway, I came upon this clearing that I never really knew was there and I heard music. I wanted ya ta come check it out with me."
Music...
Grimmjow remembered that the music that he had heard was coming from the gold harp the stranger was playing, but it had been left behind when the young man fled. He wondered if the stranger had come back, or if it was someone else. Not wasting a moment more, he rushed over to the bedside table to retrieve the instrument he had placed there, then turned on his heel and followed his best friend through the stark-white halls and out of the castle, into the night.
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"It was right through there."
Grimmjow didn't need to be told. He knew exactly where the sound had come from, and although he didn't hear anything at that moment, he truly wished that the mesmerizing stranger was still there, sitting beside the calm water with the full moon bathing him in light. Before stepping through the dense trees, Grimmjow turned to Nnoitra to whisper to him. "Wait here." When his friend nodded in agreement, Grimmjow morphed into his black panther form and stepped into the brightly lit clearing, the sound of rushing water mixing with soft voices.
Voices...
Wrapping his tail around the golden harp, Grimmjow steadily moved towards the same place he met the stranger before, excitement pooling in his gut at the thought of seeing the strange young man. As he came closer to the edge of the huge lake, he could clearly make out not one shape, but four. Their voices were hushed, but Grimmjow could tell that they were all male voices. A low, menacing growl escaped his throat, causing four pairs of eyes to turn in his direction. Honey-brown eyes were the only ones he noticed. Grimmjow stared intently into the deep orbs, which again, were clouded with tears. Then the stranger smiled a sad smile and spoke.
"You came back..."
Grimmjow felt a deep rumble in his chest, which came out as a soft purr as the orange-haired stranger climbed to his knees and crawled forward, wrapping his slender arms around Grimmjow's neck, burying his saddened face in the sleek black fur. His ocean blue eyes slid shut for a moment, only to snap back open when he felt lips brush against the fur lining his right ear.
"Can you understand me?"
Grimmjow nodded his head and lifted a black paw, wrapping it possessively around the body pressed so tightly against him. He paid no mind to the other three pairs of eyes that seemed to burn holes in him. Right now, it was just him and the stranger. Nobody else mattered.
The younger man pulled away and ran his fingers through the thick fur on top of Grimmjow's head, eyes brimming with curiosity. "My name is Ichigo. Do you have a name, or can I give you one?"
Grimmjow's heart skipped a beat, then started thundering in his chest. The stranger wanted...to name him? He was beyond shocked, but was brought out of reverie when soft footsteps sounded from behind him.
Nnoitra laughed, which startled Ichigo, but the younger man didn't move from his spot in front of Grimmjow. "He's got a name." His one good eye twinkled with amusement as he ruffled the fur on his friend's back. "Oi, Blue! Come on out, there's no need to hide yerself like the pussy cat you are."
Grimmjow growled at his friend, blue eyes swirling with anger. Using his mind he spoke, voice laced with venom. 'Ya know I have no problem with kicking your ass. Watch your tongue.'
The raven-haired man cackled loud, throwing his head back and sliding a hand through his long black hair, causing the other three men to exchange curious glances. "Che, as if!" He leaned down slightly and wiped a single tear from his violet eye. "Come on, now. He wants ta know yer name, so let's not keep 'im waitin'!"
Grimmjow grunted as Ichigo leaned back on his feet, one hand still entwined in the soft fur atop his head and the other rubbing his nose, a look of pure longing in his eyes.
"Please, tell me."
That look...it just made Grimmjow's already thundering heart beat even faster. How could someone he just met make him feel like they had known each other for years, and were just getting reacquainted, so fast it made his head spin? Just as Grimmjow was about to reveal himself, one of the other strangers decided to speak up, grabbing on to Ichigo and pulling him back against his chest with a look of insane jealousy on his face.
"Ichi, don't trust him. He seems...odd to me." He had long blonde hair that stopped just past his slender shoulders, light brown eyes, and lightly tanned skin. He was wearing an outfit similar to Ichigo's, but it was longer and less revealing. On his right arm was a crescent moon-shaped gold band with a ruby star in the middle, and several thin, gold bracelets hung limply from both wrists. And he was clinging to Ichigo with such possessiveness, it made Grimmjow extend his claws and growl. They seemed a little too 'friendly', in Grimmjow's opinion.
"Shin, relax. I already know that he won't hurt me."