Prologue: Eight years before the Dragon War.

Absence of Colour

The dark thunderclouds moved in over the grassy plains, the cold, wet wind blew harshly the trees barely standing against the force of nature. Large and cold droplets fell from the sky, plopping onto the chilled territory of the Dragon Clan. In the distance a growl of thunder echoed over the mountain ridge and the air across the valley shook with its force.

The pounding of horse's hooves reverberated with the thunder as the rider forced his steed faster and faster towards the border. Thick black thunderclouds moved across the dark sky, the black shadow chasing the rider across the damp landscape. Frantically he looked over his shoulder, only to see the Black Dragon forces cresting the hill and bearing down on him. His heart leapt into his throat, sweat mixing with the ice-cold rain that dripped down his neck. The pounding of the hooves' and the cracking of thunder united as one, he could feel them closing in on him, even though his steed was running as fast as it possibly could he felt as though he were running through mud, like some horrible nightmare; it felt like he was fleeing but getting nowhere as his pursuers gained on him at an inhuman speed.

"Yah!" He kicked the horse sharply and it snorted in protest. Behind him the thundering of hooves was getting louder and closer. He spun round only to see the flash of lightning explode across the silver blade that rushed towards his neck.

The silver haired youth pouted in annoyance and slouched down in the saddle of his horse. Around him the soldiers chatted quietly and his scowl deepened as he heard several mentions of his name. He opened his mouth to tell them to shut up, but a deep voice cut him off,

"Dilandau, come here." The boy raised his head and fixed his crimson eyes on the commander. Prodding his horse he pulled up at the side of the large black steed.

"Yes, Folken-sama?"

The young Emperor tipped his head to the side and looked down at the boy,

"We're almost at the castle. During your stay there I want you to behave, King Korechika is a great man, and I won't have you destroying our friendship with him. He has a large army and would be a most helpful ally."

The ten-year-old sneered but as Folken narrowed his eyes he shrugged and muttered "As you wish Folken-sama."

The older man nodded and pulled his charger back to the front of the ranks of the travelling Black Dragon Clan army. Behind him Dilandau resumed his scowling and childish moping; wondering why the hell Folken was sending him off to live with some stupid king for moons on end. The bitter winter wind knocked him out of his sulking, pulling his cloak tighter around him, Dilandau raised his head to survey the land. The army were marching through a large valley, on either side of them great mountains rose towards the heavens. On the wind they heard the occasional bleating of Gaian Goats, Dilandau inhaled deeply the cold air stinging his chest, shifting in his saddle his stallion twitched its head then resumed its trot of hooves against frozen land. As the army reached the end of the winding and dangerous mountain path they stopped at a precipice. Beneath them extended the great land of Hadrian. Against the blue horizon stood the formidable castle of the great King Korechika, beneath it sprawled out the city, wisps of smoke twisted in the wind rising towards the winter-blue sky, as his eyes trailed further away from the castle, he saw large fields all bare as a result of the early winter.

Dilandau sighed in boredom; Hadrian was a great country upon Gaia, its king a strong and formidable man with the second largest and skilled army. Folken wanted Hadrian to become a member country of the Black Dragon Clan, however he didn't want to do it by force, rather he wanted it to be done peacefully and diplomatically. However the garnet-eyed boy wondered what this had to do with him. For years now he had been under the tutelage of Folken yet a moon ago he had been told he was being sent to Hadrian for a few moons, he suspected Folken was doing it as a way to rid himself of his violent tendencies, but still it was a great chance to further his training.

Gently nudging his horse forward Dilandau followed the army down the steep and rocky hill, towards his home for the next few moons.

King Korechika was a tall and greying man, his once jet-black hair was now streaked with premature silver strands, and his dark green eyes had lost their sparkle as he faced each and every trouble in a calm and level-headed manner. His dark skin had paled somewhat and the telltale wrinkles of stress lined his eyes. He was not a particularly old man, only in his early forties, but going by the average male life-span of his time, he was indeed far past his golden years. Korechika had been king for little over twelve years, yet he had faced wars, the death of his young wife and had to raise six children on his own, he was as close as a king could come to being a single father. He suspected that it wasn't his duties as king that aged him so quickly but rather the antics of his children and his continual worry and suspicion he harboured for his eldest son. And most likely the over-bearing way in which he coddled his youngest child – his only daughter, the heir to his legacy. He had long since concluded that being a father was definitely a lot harder than being King.

Korechika was not King of Hadrian because of his bloodline, but rather he had become King through death, blood, betrayal and war. At the age of 8 he became squire to Rafe Kosaburo a great knight of Hadrian. As the years passed Korechika grew in strength, skill and intelligence, at the age of 18 he took a blushing bride – Kerria. Not long after his marriage the old and sickly king of Hadrian died. His heir, his only child was killed upon his return to Hadrian; the assassins were acquaintances of Rafe, the very power-hungry man that wanted to place himself upon the throne. Outraged and disgusted Korechika raised an army against the pretender to the throne. The battle between master and protégé was short yet painful and bloody. And thus upon the dishonourable death of Rafe, Korechika became the king of Hadrian. No one dared dispute his rise to power; instead they embraced his policies of education and military training for all able bodied men. In order to authenticate his claim to the throne, the royal council claimed that Korechika was a very distant relative of the late king, brandishing papers to validate this. Hadrian kept its position of one of Gaia's great countries through war and education of the masses, after all war is the most profitable business known to man.

And now almost fifteen years after Rafe's death, his deception was living on in Korechika' eldest son, also ironically named Rafe. Before Korechika had discovered the true nature of his master, he had named his first born after the man he admired so greatly. By law Rafe was the heir to the throne, but as he grew his father realised that his flesh and blood was an irresolute and corrupt man that would lead Hadrian to its doom. Without his son ever knowing he changed the right of succession to his youngest child, his daughter Gin'iro. Upon the death of the king, she was to become Queen of Hadrian and her husband the rightful ruler of his powerful country. To ensure that his greedy son would never get his hands on the throne he had betrothed him to a princess in a remote country and had arranged a marriage for Gin'iro to a suitable and strong boy.

The king sighed deeply and sat back in his large chair in the torch-lit study. Rubbing his temples he stood and silently walked over to the large painting that dominated the far wall of his study. Raising the flickering torch, he sadly stared at the faces of his children, Gin' would never forgive him for robbing her of her freedom, for forcing the crown upon her young and independent head.

Many years ago Korechika had commissioned a great young artist to paint the royal family's portrait. When the young man had stood before the family he commented on what a "handsome collection of specimens" they were. Many moons later when King and artist had stood before the finished painting in his study the man had commented on looks of his children.

"When the Gods created your sons, milord, they chose the richest colours and textures," he said gesturing to the dark hair, olive skin and rich eyes of his sons, "But when it came to painting your daughter the Gods had used up all the rich colours on your sons, they only had a small amount of colour left and used it in her eyes. Where you and your sons are rich dark colours, your daughter is the absence of colour."

Korechika looked at the painting of his youngest child, little Gin'iro sat in a small chair dressed in a puffy blue dress that she had to be forced in for each sitting. He wholly disagreed with the artist, Gin'iro had long silky silver hair that reached her waist, pale and soft skin, but it was her eyes that the artist had been referring to. Dark purple fluid orbs stood out against her pale skin, slightly hidden underneath wayward silver locks. He reached out and touched the canvas,

"I hope that one day you can forgive me little Gin'iro, for you're the only one of my children that has the strength to rule this land."

Gin'iro stood alone in the Great Hall of the palace; her right hand twirled one of her plaits round her fingers. Her tipped up to the large painting that hung opposite the large windows, the late afternoon shone brightly against the features of her mother. Her golden hair was loose and all pulled over one shoulder, her shining blue eyes smiled at the artist and down on Gin'. Kerria had died giving birth to Gin'iro, and the youngest royal knew full well the stories that circulated about her looks. Her handmaiden Kira said that the reason that Gin' was so pale was that the hand of death had touched her as she was ripped from her dead mother. It was her cross to bear for being the cause of her beautiful mother's death. Her lips curled downward in a pout and her eyes brimmed with tears at the thought, was it fair that her mother should die in order for her to live? Gin' often wondered what right she had to life at the cost of her mother's. Once when she had brought it up with her father, he had said,

"Gin'iro, you have a great purpose in life, your mother loved you even though she never knew you. She made the sacrifice so that you may live and fulfil that great purpose for which you are destined."

Gin'iro didn't know what her purpose in life was, but then she was only ten-years-old, and at present she lived for the coming of winter, the heavy snowstorms, the great tournaments that her father took her to, and of course annoying her elder brothers as much as possible.

"Come back here!" The angry howl bounced off the marble floors and walls of the Great Hall. Gin'iro giggled and scampered through the gap in the door, she took off down the long corridor her older brother, Nobu, hot on her heels.

"You little brat! Get back here!" He screamed after her. She rounded the corner and slammed straight into a guard, he stopped her and held the wriggling girl in his grip,

"Princess Gin'iro, your father wishes to see you." He looked up as her brother slid round the bend, "And you too young Master." He released the girl and Nobu stuck his tongue out at her, "I'll get you later." He warned.

She retorted with a resounding raspberry and then bounced down the corridor after the guard. They approached the heavy wooden doors of her father's private study room; the doormen slammed the butts of their staffs against the hard floor and saluted the young royals. Gin'iro hated that; anywhere she went guards were sure to be no more than a few feet behind her and making loud noises before her. Following the first guard into the room she fidgeted behind him, desperate to get past him and away from her brother who was purposely standing on the back of her shoes.

Shoving her way past the guard she bounced over to her father's side, grinning down at her, he enveloped her in a bear hug and she giggled, dropping her back to her feet he ruffled Nobu's dark hair and the eleven-year-old grinned up at him.

"You wished to see us father?" An oily voice asked from the doorway. They turned to see Rafe making his way over to them. Gin' immediately pulled a face and she and Nobu stepped closer together. Where in the case of most people it can be said that appearances are deceiving, in the case of the eldest son of Korechika Michinaga, appearances couldn't be closer to the slimy truth. Rafe was a fairly short and skinny teenage boy, his thin dark hair hung around his beady little eyes in long wet-looking wisps, a sharp and crooked nose protruded from his sallow and gaunt face. His black cloaks hung limply around his bony and pointy frame; he made his way into the dark room, walking with a limp. Last year he had been hit with a particularly bad bout of influenza, it had taken him to the brink of death, and Korechika has called upon the best healers in the land to tend for his son. Korechika was not a heartless man and didn't want his son to die in such a way, although at times he wondered why he had bothered to help his son. In his darkest nights, Korechika often wondered if it would have been better to allow his malevolent son die, and save him all the worries of how he was planning to usurp the throne. Gin' shuddered as Rafe closed in on them, sliding in behind her father, but Rafe caught her arm, his bony fingers digging into her soft arm,

"How is my lovely sister today?" He asked with as much sincerity as a snake that regarded its prey.

She pulled her arm away and glared darkly at him, "I'm just fine thank you." She stated flatly. Rafe grinned down at her, showing off his crooked and yellowing teeth, Gin' cringed and tossed back a platinum pigtail. The double doors swung open and the rest of the Michinaga family made their way into the room, five sons and one daughter stood in front of the King and he smiled warmly at them all.

"We will be having a guest in the castle for the next few moons. He will be trained along side you boys, he is a member of the Black Dragon Clan and I will be negotiating with Emperor Folken for the country of Hadrian to become part of the Black Dragon family."

From the corner of her eyes, Gin'iro saw Rafe's eyes light up in glee at the mention of the Black Dragons. She followed her brothers out as they made their way to greet the guests.

Dilandau looked up at the castle that rose above him and seemed to stretch right into the heavens. The black outline of the imposing building stood against the pale shades of red of a new sunset. The wind blew through the courtyard tugging on his silver bangs. He stood staring at the large castle, feeling slightly fearful of the dark gothic gargoyles that jeered, with sharp teeth and twisted faces, down at him. Dilandau softly snorted at himself and shook his head at such childish thoughts, following Folken into the large hall.

Folding his arms across his chest he arrogantly surveyed the hall around him, it was floored with dark green and black speckled marble, great pillars rose from the floor and met with the domed roof high above their heads. Off to his right doors opened and a tall man walked in, Dilandau guessed that his was the 'great king' that he'd been told about, with a bored expression on his face he watched as his children trailed in behind him the first being a wimpy looking boy and the last a girl about his age. Crimson eyes widened as he stared at the girl at the end, she had his hair colour, a childish annoyance rose in him as she passed him, he was the only one in Gaia that looked like that! How dare she have the same unique hair colour as him! Well, he frowned, it wasn't unique anymore the little brat had stolen something that made him stand out from the dull masses.

Bitch.

The girl took her place at the end of the line of her siblings and stared right at him with wide purple eyes. Where Dilandau was annoyed that there was another being on Gaia with hair like his, Gin'iro was astounded to find that she wasn't alone in her albino looks, she was singled out for her absence of rich colours, and here was another just like her!

Throughout the mundane speech that the king rattled, Dilandau was aware of the girl never taking her eyes off of him. He began to feel her purple gaze boring a hole into him, getting annoyed he turned and pulled a face at her.

Korechika frowned and looked down the line of his children as he heard a loud snort and then the stifled giggles of a little girl, he looked at the silver-haired boy who had an innocent expression on his face. He turned to Emperor Folken who merely gave him a small, if not cold, smile.

"Maybe I should let my children leave, please follow me Lord Folken." Folken nodded and turned to Dilandau,

"Behave yourself." He hissed under his breath at the boy.

Dilandau's lip pulled up in a sneer and as he was about to retort Folken spun on his heel and strode after the king in a flurry of a black cloak. Dilandau jumped as he felt warm fingers bracelet round his wrist. He turned with narrowed eyes to see deep purple pools watching him, the girl smiled,

"Follow me; I'll show you to your room."

Without much of a choice the girl dragged him out of the room and down a long carpeted hall. As she practically bounced in front of him Dilandau wanted nothing more than to be away from the little brat. Gods, she was far too happy for her own good, her pigtails swinging back and forth behind her as she led him to the wing where he would be staying.

With a sharp push the doors to his apartment swung open and the girl went into the room ahead of him. His rooms were large and well furnished with a large bed in the bedroom, she stepped over his bags then spun round, he hadn't noticed that she had stopped and walked right into her,

"Watch it." He grumbled.

"You were the one that bumped into me. Didn't Emperor Folken educate you in the formal way to address royalty?" She snapped at him in an irritatingly prim voice.

Dilandau was a little taken aback, he'd been round royalty before and he always managed to reduce the girls to tears, but this one had practically ripped his head off.

"I defer to no one." He half-growled at her stepping away and over to the large windows.

With a flighty change of interest that children are prone to, Gin' enquired curiously, "Do you have a name?"

He turned over his shoulder, "Yes I do."

"Well?" She prodded, to which he smirked and looked away from her.

"It's Dilandau."

She smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Gin'iro, but you may call me Gin'."

"Oh, don't I feel privileged?" He sneered sarcastically.

"Are you always this impertinent?" She asked her hands on her slender hips.

He turned round and grinned at her, "No, this is all for you."

Shaking her head she sighed and left the room, Dilandau watched her go frowning he tipped his head to the side and remained lost in his thoughts. As he thought of the girl, Gin', he felt himself grinning in a cruel fashion, if he could at least torment everyday then maybe the moons that he spent here wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

To be continued…

Disclaimer: Escaflowne and all characters are copyright Bandai Sunrise and affiliates. No money is being made from this peice of fanfiction. However, original characters and places are copyright the author.

Notes: 1) Gin'iro (Japanese) crudely translates into 'Silver colour' (English). 2) I know that Dilandau is 18 in the film, but I'm unsure how old Folken/Dune is. So I'm saying that he is 10 years older than Dilandau, making him 28 in the film and 20 in this part…& if I'm wrong…well it's hardly important is it? . Ja ne

Edited 30/05/04