Title: The Day Night Fell
Fandom: 07-Ghost
Pairing(s): Ayanami and Yukikaze, Hyuuga and Ayanami
Chapter: 2/?
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: The day he died, night fell on a darkness deeper than the abyss itself.
2:
The red sun did nothing to muffle the portrait of death painted on the once unsullied land. There were moments of confusion as Raphael's light blinded everyone but those prepared for it, and it were in the minutes after where darkness swallowed away any hope the people of Raggs could have held. It was a scar that ripped apart the once-blue sky, words with the promise of absolute despair etched in crimson-tinged ebony, a sight that terrified human hearts and sent them fleeing to what they called safety. But this was war, and there was no refuge, as blood dyed cobbled streets red and merciless gold marched unrelentingly towards their goal.
All the pointless skirmishes at the gates had delayed the inevitable and taken the life of men who did not have to die for such a pointless matter. But he had watched as they fell, almost cold and indifferent, as if the lives of those pawns mattered not to him. He had watched as that pompous old fool rushed headlong into spears and gleaming metal with the scream of eternal glory to the Barsburg empire – hypocritical old man with his delusions of grandeur – never once displaying any shred of emotion.
Violet and ebony and crimson watched, before that gloved hand finally lifted, deadly blood-red blossoming into existence, the creation of that absolutely destructive power. Their goal was simple, the innocuous stone that resided with the royalty of the kingdom of Raggs, and the Box that he had stole.
Yet something stirred deep within him, a darker presence that seemed to gnaw at his thoughts, embedded in the very fabric of his soul.
Humans bowed to fear. And it was fear that kept them in line as the invading army made their march towards the castle, fear of the forbidden dark sorcerers who held human form and walked amongst men. The foreboding crimson words had ripped their sky, their hope and their morale apart; it had only been a matter of hours before soldiers too fearful to hold their swords right trembled and fell without the need for any brute force.
It was the same no matter where they went, this was something Yukikaze had noted with a slight sense of detachment. Perhaps this was why the King had approved of the forbidden Warsfeil, men to whom fear was their ally and darkness their blood.
In-front of him, Ayanami's form was almost rigid, determination carved into a canvas of his back. By the time the sun hung high in a smoke-cloaked sky, half-hidden behind clouds, soldiers in black and gold had barred doors and windows, rounding up frightened innocent citizens who had wanted nothing to do with the terrifying men who came pounding at doors, men with death on their hands and cruelty in their eyes.
The only untouched area was the castle of Raggs itself. When that fell, the once-proud Kingdom would entirely cease to exist. Around that proud spire, destruction lurked, skeletal fingers threatening to close in and devour the single fortress of hope with its snow-capped guardians that loomed high in the noon sun.
"The last of the resistance has been taken care of, Aya-tan." Familiar dark glasses and an almost cheerful grin came into view as Hyuuga strolled leisurely back into view of his superior, stray droplets of blood marring his face. Yukikaze's eyes merely narrowed slightly as Hyuuga reported back, but he would not allow himself to be annoyed at the swordsman's inane antics. This was war, and a misstep would mean death or worse.
"I want a report of the total losses." Casner's loss had not been mourned. It had been a reckless charge – rather unlike him, Yukikaze had commented, and the comment had only drawn a smirk from the violet-eyed man standing before him – with no care for life or duty, that dying scream that had made the smirk on Ayanami's face widen just a fraction.
"Yes sir." Hardworking as always. It made the Colonel smile just a little, where no-one saw, before he too, turned to his own duty. With the General's rather unexpected death, the mantle of being destroyer now fell to the silver-haired man.
Something in his soul reveled.
Ayanami turned his gaze back towards the frost-gripped castle. The ice that had formed a protective shield over pale silver and white ramparts made the palace look much larger than it truly was. Intimidation, he thought, a strategy forming within his brilliant mind. The scouts had earlier retrieved aerial information which would inevitably come into use when the time came for the castle to fall.
"Something on your mind, Aya-tan?"
The swordsman had come up besides him, a casual arm looping around his superior's shoulders, a Cheshire-cat grin on his face. Ayanami did not say anything, he merely shrugged the weight of his subordinate's arm off his shoulder, stepping forward to study aerial images taken merely moments ago. He had long since gotten used to Hyuuga's antics, having spent a few years in his youth with the strangely optimistic swordsman.
"Only your insolence, Captain Hyuuga."
There was no malice that edged his razor sharp comment – there never would be, not with the man who had stuck with him through the years at the academy – only resignation. Perhaps it was the fact that his thoughts were somewhere else, pointedly ignoring the other Black Hawk who had taken up position beside him, peering over his dark glasses at the map.
It was something about that ice-bound castle that demanded his attention, there was something about it that simply did not feel right, a nagging feeling in the very depths of his soul, a warning cry of something that seemed horribly ancient buried beneath layers of human consciousness. For a moment, the images before him blurred, just for that moment, and he heard them, the creatures more insubstantial than the Wars, fragments of bone and darkness whispering to him, seeking his approval.
Master, they whispered, remember us, command us, and the disembodied cries only made his head hurt even more. This was nothing like the voices of the Wars; this was overwhelming darkness that cried out with clawing fingers, tearing at the edge of his conscious mind.
"Ayanami-sama?"
Violet eyes snapped open – when had his eyes slid shut? Ayanami could not remember at all – meeting concerned ebony and the hint of shaded crimson behind black-tinted glasses. The sudden wave of nausea that had hit him subsided as soon as it had welled up, and for the first time he saw it clearly, the pale outline of an almost too familiar sign etched against frost and buried in ice.
It spoke to him, an almost alien familiarity beyond his time, that familiar name on the tip of his tongue yet he could not grasp it, did not remember those words that danced teasingly just out of reach.
Then, in a blink of the eye, it was gone, vanishing back into faded ivory and frosted white, but the dull throb behind violet eyes steadfastly refused to go away, lingering evidence of the clamouring murmurs that had nearly drowned him in the swell of their overzealous voices.
"Mhn."
Yukikaze shook his head at Ayanami's indifference; the only time he would make that monosyllabic grunt was when there actually were thoughts weighing on the man's mind. He had long since learned to read almost all of his superior's actions like an open book, that was the only way he would be able to assist him. There was no use sighing, instead, he held out a folder silently to Ayanami, retreating slightly when the Colonel took it and deftly flipped open the cover, violet eyes narrowing at the long list etched in ebony on white.
The losses were higher than he had expected, and there was no doubt in his mind that the Field-Marshal would request an explanation for this. The man had sent him there to curb whatever losses that fool of a General would inevitably make, and Ayanami made a note at the back of his mind that even in death, Casner would certainly be made to answer for his ridiculously foolish decision.
"Regroup the first and second platoons. I want them reorganized and battle-ready within two hours." The noon sun had dipped just a little, having drawn a blanket of clouds over itself to shield its gaze from all the death that marred the land. By nightfall, he would ensure that the castle would fall, no matter what it took. "We will move at sixteen-hundred-hours."
Hyuuga's grin widened, waving almost nonchalantly as he strolled from the tent, the dull clink of metal hidden behind carved wood a parting chime as the swordsman left to accomplish the task his superior had wordlessly placed on his shoulders. There would be blood spilled that night, and he knew it.
Left in the warm darkness of the tent, violet eyes continued their scrutiny of blinding crystal white. There was certainly something there; it made the darkness in him twist and growl like a restless predator seeking prey, and Ayanami would find it, no matter how many pawns it took.
* * *
Watching the Barsburg military in motion was a display of pure power, rippling waves of ebony and silver, the crest of the proud Empire flying high on velvet black.
Ayanami strode forward, a hand resting on the sword that hung at his side, tension pulling every single muscle in his body taut even though his expression betrayed no emotion. Around them, ships carrying battle-hardened men clothed in crisp uniforms landed, and the well-trained men wasted absolutely no time in encircling the fortress.
But the first to move was not him, nor was it the soldiers around them, instead, Hyuuga's agile black shadow separated from them, a lone figure sprinting towards looming castle doors. Ayanami's lips curled into the semblance of a smirk, those frost-encrusted carved metal would no sooner stand up to the swordsman's gleaming blade than a well-placed zaiphon cleaving through hapless tissue.
That man carried carnage in his blade and death in his eyes, he had seen those crimson orbs hidden behind the shield of darkness several times before, and Ayanami knew, those were the eyes of a predator, cruel and merciless to the very end. Ice crumbled first, glass-like tinkling mixed with the harsh screech of metal against metal, a dissonant symphony of a defense's dying scream as Hyuuga cut down the obstacle in their way.
"Move." Cold and detached as always. But those orders did not apply to the troops standing behind him, shock-gripped by the sheer power held by those cursed with the forbidden, forgotten blood of darkness. No, those men had a different kind of duty, they would never have been able to fight on the same level as the elite corps that guarded the royal house of Raggs.
Cold steel and angry red made up his world, Ayanami did not require eyes to see or skin to feel, he did not hear the dying screams around him as crimson dyed the snow at his feet. He was lethal, deadly, they all were, the embodiment of death given human form. A predator, a killer, and – the words had been whispered by everyone when he passed, the rumors and quiet murmurs, but he had never given thought to that ridiculous notion – a death god.
Behind him, Hyuuga and Yukikaze operated with graceful efficiency; for all the times they did not see eye to eye, those two men were equally deadly when it came down to their job.
It drew an almost proud smirk from the silver-haired Colonel.
A wide sweep of his sword sliced through a painfully pathetic resistance, these men who fought with only their own lives in mind, undedicated soldiers who scrambled back and pleaded for mercy when it became clear to them that victory was impossible. They disgusted him, those creatures with no regard or loyalty to the kingdom they supposedly served, and a single flick of his wrist silenced pitiable cries to spare them. He had no use for the pathetic humans who sought only power, fame and glory – Casner had inevitably been one of those – and if they failed to gain that, tried to bargain with their enemies.
Loyalty was something Ayanami respected.
"That's the last of them, Ayanami-sama." Violet eyes turned to inspect the carnage that littered the empty castle hall. Some of them had been soldiers, but some – Ayanami brutally removed his sword from a limp, lifeless body – had truly been cowards. What an assortment of colorful characters, he thought, clothed in the same identical breastplate and deep gunmetal grey, equals at last in death.
Crimson dripped from once-gleaming metal, copper threads that clung to their executioner's blade.
"Order the men to search the castle. Find it." A flick of his wrist sent a spatter of red over a floor soaked in crimson, barely acknowledging the movement as Yukikaze disappeared out of the hall into a fading sunlight. Ayanami turned a deaf ear to the clatter of boots that had rung out as his Beigleiter returned with the soldiers, men who tried to hide the tremble of fear at the sight of bloody carnage and death littering the floor of the once impenetrable stronghold.
Monsters, he knew, that was what the Black Hawks were called. But Ayanami ignored it, striding forward, shaded violet searching for that elusive pulse that had called to him, made some long-forgotten magic in him stir with an intent masked beneath ancient memories sealed away by a power he did not yet comprehend.
It is near, that deep abyssal cloud of darkness again, voiceless whispers and bone-dry wings at the back of his mind. There was something here that agitated them, and he could feel it in his bones.
Then he heard it, the sound of a struggle mixed with the clang of metal on metal and tinkling chime of an all too familiar piece of ornamental jewelry, and instinct dictated that it was unwise to be unarmed. Ayanami turned, a quick glance towards the flurry of ebony encircling a single, regal, ivory-encased form. A smirk curled his lips, that form was unmistakeable. Weldeschtein Krom Raggs.
So the King had decided to put up a struggle. Valiant, but futile. The soldiers had already encircled him; that man was no better than a cornered animal now, backed into an route with no escape, attempting to intimidate the greater predators that had trapped him.
Weldeschtein moved, lunging forward in a bid to escape.
Time seemed to stop, and for just those five long seconds, it seemed as if the King would actually manage the impossible of escaping from the Barsburg army.
A dream, the words lingered on the tip of his tongue, and it would definitely come crashing down.
Ayanami strode forward, drawing his sword fluidly. There would not be any interrogation today, no, today was merely an execution, just as the Emperor had dictated. Complete and entire annihilation, as that man had wished. The deadly sound of gleaming metal leaving the leather and iron bindings that held it echoed within empty halls as the men finally abandoned fear, bodily restraining Weldeschtein.
Even now, trapped like a fly within a spider's web, the King continued to struggle. Violet eyes studied the once-proud man almost calculatively as he was almost forced to his knees. There was something that man was trying to hide, the reason why his ornamental necklace was now devoid of the crimson stone customarily set against silver and cast gold.
"There isn't anywhere else to hide, King Raggs."
Cold, cruel, merciless.
The blade sliced through air and cloth and flesh, a look of shock momentarily passing over the King's face. Ayanami did not even flinch as blood spattered across pale skin and a once ivory floor now dyed crimson, gazing unmovingly on the now late-King's body as his form crumpled to the ground bonelessly, making a choked sound as blood spilled from the gaping wound torn across his dying figure. The soldiers that had restrained him had stepped back, disbelieving gazes fixed on the King lying in an expanding sea of crimson and white.
Then Ayanami saw it, the momentary vision of a lifetime that seemed to be both his and not his, a black, curved blade, words he did not yet understand carved on the unforgiving darkness, claws that seemed to reach for him from an endless abyss. The disembodied voices of the Wars circled, crying words he barely grasped, violet narrowing as his trained mind forced the vision down.
War was no time for distraction.
Behind them came a soft, almost child-like patter of footsteps, a clink of metal, and then there was silence.
Again it came, rearing its head, that nagging feeling that stirred at the bottom of his soul, that sensation of resonance, of something calling out to a fragment of him that did not seem to belong to him at all. Find him, it sounded almost like a growl, take back what is yours, and he felt the darkness in him hungering for that of which it sought.
His Beigleiter was a step ahead of him, having removed the obstacle in the doorway behind them with a well-placed blast of zaiphon when the sound had caught their attention.
When the dust cleared, the first thing the Colonel saw was the young child with glazed, unseeing emerald eyes, a child of the Church it would seem, by the pale white and cream robes that looked a little too large for the young boy. But there was no reason for the child to be here, clutching a piece of cold metal too big and heavy for those small fingers.
Then he saw him, and the world seemed to come to a standstill.
"You."
Darkness stirred restlessly, a building storm that even Yukikaze and Hyuuga could feel. It curled around Ayanami, a old, long-forgotten memory that had finally found a crack in its seal, engulfing him in the ancient whispers of something more cruel than the ebony black abyss. Then it hit him, an involuntary gasp slipping from pale lips as he remembered everything.
Skeletal fingers, death given face and form, cold tendrils of darkness amongst a shower of pale white petals. The voices that had murmured for him to remember had finally ceased, a shiver of anticipation from those formless whispers as the seal holding everything he wanted to know back finally crumbled.
"Vertrag." The name was a whisper on his lips, he now knew why this place had seemed familiar to him, it was the thousand-year-old memory that had lurked locked inside him, and the shadows on the ground contorted, a glimmer of a hooded god, a creation sealed away a millenia ago. Ayanami saw no-one else, not the soldiers around them, not his Beigleiter standing with his sword gripped firmly in his hand, not even Hyuuga or the green-eyed child, only that single white-cloaked figure with its black, hooded shadow who stood before him.
A meeting that seemed almost nostalgic.
"So you remembered." And Fia Kreuz moved, liquid grace beneath flowing robes, a hand outstretched, the pale shimmer of a power unheld by humans taking shape at the tip of his fingers.
It happened too fast, a split-second of distraction.
Ayanami saw blood and fragments of gold and black, a blur of ebony and silver, eyes widening in the slightest semblance of shock as someone all too human stood between him and an impact that never came, a living shield from the Ghost's attack. Unnecessary, the darkness in him whispered, but Ayanami knew – he had known instinctively, as that too familiar glasses clattered to the ground, cracked and broken like their owner – he didn't have to see that man's face for confirmation.
Not this way, his mind screamed, the still-human part of his soul wanting to deny a truth already written in blood, but the words never made it to his lips.
Even Kreuz seemed to be gripped by shock at the turn of events, fingers trembling as he withdrew from the mortally wounded Warsfeil.
Yukikaze collapsed onto the ground, pale and blood-drenched, a gaping wound where his right arm and shoulder would have been. There was pain and pride etched in his features, a peaceful, knowing look in those dark eyes, the knowledge that he had protected the man that mattered the most to him. So that was what their opponent was; the knowledge had hit him when his darkness had been all but consumed by the blinding light at Kreuz's fingertips, and the ebony-haired Beigleiter was proud that he had shielded Ayanami from that attack.
If it were for him, he could have endured anything, even this.
The Colonel's feet would not move, and even though the expressionless facade that remained impassive, it was anguish that seized him where eyes could not see. Ayanami's pride did not allow him to act rashly, but what was left of his humanity mourned for the young man now dying in a cold place, so far away from home.
Yukikaze smiled.
Even with his strength seeping away into the crimson pool around him, he smiled. His superior's icy expression did not seem to bother him, he had long since learnt to read those cold violet eyes. Yukikaze saw in those depth-less lavender, an unspoken pain that resonated wordlessly, because the Colonel standing there amidst a sea of red would never allow himself to show anything beyond the calm mask he always wore.
"Ayanami-sama..."
The sound of his voice was hoarse, pain-riddled.
Bloodied fingers lifted, summoning the last reserves of what remained of his fast-fading strength. Yukikaze was dying, he knew it, he could feel it with every slowing beat of his heart, his life spilling out and mingling with the blood of the countless men that had fallen under his blade. Equals in death, he could have laughed, but the pain now made even speaking an almost impossible task.
As long as I am within thee, the words materializing into existance at the tip of Yukikaze's fingers were barely holding their form together, a silent mirror of the man who had written them in ghostly threads on the only canvas he had.
Ayanami's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
The fading light in Yukikaze's eyes and the smile he still wore even as he lay dying tore at him.
My heart will always be...
The words etched on the ground seemed almost haphazard, barely legible.
Those fingers fell limp to the ground, the last vestiges of life slipping out of his Beigleiter's grasp. Ayanami's fingers curled into a fist, gloved digits digging painfully into fabric. Crimson had slowly started to pool in the dying man's last words, silently drowning them in an endless red.
A faint thread – it was all that remained of the last of Yukikaze's strength, stubbornly clinging to a life that had long since fled – drifted to Ayanami's fingers. His gloved fingers curled around the barely physical warmth, as if the touch could bring back the man now lying broken on the ground.
Yukikaze was gone.
The flood of suppressed emotions – they would remain locked away, he would never allow anyone to see – set something else loose. In that one moment, Ayanami remembered everything, the name that had only been whispered by everyone else, the name that belonged to him and him alone. It was a silent roar that resonated in his soul, an unheard storm as ancient memories finally returned to their rightful owner.
His identity as Verloren, the seven Ghosts that had sealed him away, Eve's death, and the trickery of the Chief of Heavens, he remembered everything. Even the promise of a dead and useless world; he remembered it all, and he would start with the single Ghost that stood before him, the one responsible for Yukikaze's death.
It was an eerie, chilly calm that had seized Ayanami, the endless darkness that seemed to emanate from him, an abyssal cloak wrapping around him, as he withdrew the sword hanging at his side. Kreuz had backed away slightly, knowing that something about the Colonel had changed, sensing the darkness that threatened to swallow anyone else who stepped too close.
Ayanami smiled, predatory and cruel, the promise of slow and painful torture in that cold gaze of his. There was an unnatural calm despite the anger that had threatened to blind him mere moments ago.
He was fluid grace and powerful lean muscle, with a blade that seemed to be an extension of his own body as it stabbed forward, the killing intent clear behind violet and silver. But Kreuz was equally fast, a scythe materializing in his hand where no-one else could see, meeting the gleaming metal head-on, stopping it mere inches from where a blow would have become fatal.
That predatory smile on Ayanami's features only widened.
Seize him, the screams echoed around him, anxious darkness clawing away at the back of his mind.
"Give it back." His voice had lowered to a threatening hiss, bringing his blade down against the scythe Kreuz wielded with surprising ease.
Ayanami pressed on, fueled on by an emotion that felt entirely foreign to him. By then it had gone beyond the desire for vengeance against the Ghost that had obviously taken Yukikaze's life, it was something deeper and much darker, more ancient and beyond human creation that almost craved for that which had been lost to him.
The fragment that lay within the Ghost, he wanted it back.
Faster, harder, stronger. Ayanami would seize what was his, by any means necessary.
And then opportunity presented itself the moment Barsburg soldiers made their move, surrounding not the Ghost but the young child that sat on the bloodstained ground, looking entirely the part of a lost lamb amongst creeping predators.
Kreuz turned, seeking to protect the boy sitting there without giving a thought for his own life, momentarily exposing his back to the Colonel and the cold metal in his hands.
"Farewell, Vertrag." Those words sealed his fate, and Kreuz knew, it was the end for him when that single slip allowed for Ayanami's vise-like grip to clamp down on his neck, deceptively strong digits digging into bare flesh. It was an endless abyss that enveloped him, littered with old bones and dried red, drowning out the cry of a doomed Ghost soon to be devoured by Verloren.
The blade met no resistance as it tore through flesh, and after that, the only thing Vertrag knew was darkness.
2: TBC
A/N: Writing this was painful, somewhat, especially with Yukikaze's death. I took small liberties with the entire issue of when Ayanami remembered that he was actually Verloren, and the Raggs invasion, the former because it was never stated, the latter because they never really did mention if the Raggs king did put up a fight, and the manga made it look like an execution. Also, a song feature for this chapter: Breaking Benjamin's "Dance With the Devil", dedicated to the Vertrag-Verloren skirmish.
The phrase 'As long as I am within thee, my heart will always be with thee', chapter 37 of the Barsburg Bible, also quoted by Frau in the manga.
