Left.
Step Right.
Slash.
Swirl. Smoke.
About, face the enemy charge.
Again? How can they charge so many tiring times?
Clash, the bang of steel. The rough gritty face before her singed and grinning like a broken marionette, his jaw fixed by an ugly break and painted with scarlet. Their steel met inches before their bodies did; she had to brace herself in the mud against his weight. Throw him back with a single arm and slash with the other. A flash and he's gone, and she must face the challenge to her side.
Noin held her face in her blackened gloves and recalled every excruciatingly confusing step of the battle. Up, Up, Up it seemed they had charged into the heart of a bloodthirsty barbarian army. Incoherent battle cries mingled with sounds too horrible to recognize and too familiar to note. Up and Up again. Charge Charge, why must the charge against her? Why were they like so many portions of wave, crashing against one another in the darkest kind of night there was. The night of a general's soul when battle was fought for senseless, stupid causes.
Like a monarch's imagined honor.
Like some fool notion of protest.
It wasn't those who were the figureheads that fought, it was -her- soldiers. Even in Naval battles the ship's figurehead was used as a battering ram, a tool. But this was land war. It was her army that died. Her army that was bashed against the rocks of defense, that melted into the confused clouds of blood as offense met offense. It was her boys they killed, and not some random village idiot or simpering nobleman's son. The day had long died since any monarch sent his own son into honorable battle as anything less than a general. Less than a general as Noin had been, and was, even though she had clawed her way through the ranks to meet that impassable barrier that was...
that was no more than this man before her.
Slice, gash, blood. A sword through the heart for him. The mercenary grimaced at her, his face inches away, even as she yanked her sword from his chest. And him, she thought as she turned to another mercenary expecting to skewer her from the side. Slash. His head rolled backward, a partially broken spine the only thing holding it on. He fell to his knees, and then forward into the dirt. She smiled and charged forward.
Upward, upward, Charge. No barrier was impassible.
Nothing since...him.
_____
Heero stared. Stared like he always did when something was going on that he didn't want to deal with. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind occupied with things far above this petty...
"Dress, Heero! For the sake of...of...of something will you get up and dress properly?"
Lady Po glared at him, her normally soft voice reaching the rare point of threshold volume. She never actually yelled.
"If I hadn't spent half this last five hours tearing around the hallways looking for you'd I'd be able to debrief you on what's going on!"
'Debrief,' Heero stood and began the laborious process of removing the outer vestments he had on now, 'There she goes revealing herself again.'
If Lady Po ever had admitted to him that she used to be a woman like Noin, he would not have been surprised. As it was, she didn't, so he still wasn't. He wondered if he should act surprised when the time came.
"What do you think you've been doing wandering around this castle? You may not have realized it, but it's as dangerous for you these days as it is for the king."
He nodded, muttering an apology and pretending he needed to focus on his buttons. She frowned at him even as he ignored her and gave up her pursuit of his attention for the moment. Heero only notice dit was easier to forget her voice than usual as she helped him change. His mind was solely on the long haired boy, and what he was doing in the castle. Heero had been strictly educated in the courtiers, and other castle layabouts, but he had not registered the presence of a boy that looked like a woman. If he really was a castle regular, or irregular, he would need to report him to Po. However, he found himself reluctant to speak on the matter with her. It wasn't just that he'd gone on a white stag chase after the elusive figure all afternoon that kept his mouth from working properly, it was that he wasn't certain it was any of his interest. If he started to appear jumpy around Lady Po, she would be concerned for his safety, and take him home, in spite of the king, if she could. With a wince he realized that he didn't want to go home, not yet. Or, maybe, not ever. He wanted to see Noin again, and the others, he supposed, but he could live his life without seeing the castle again. He didn't want to think about it. He would miss his library, but it was meager compared to the castle library. He held still while Lady Po pulled off his vest perhaps a little more roughly than usual. It was also odd, but, he realized, he didn't really enjoy the castle library either. Something about it made him uneasy. Maybe it was the ghostlike noble who lingered like a late melting snow near the library at all times, the one they called Milliardo. He recalled Po speaking about him. Rumored to be the old King's doxy, Milliardo was almost disgraced out of court, but instead he had thrived as an advisor from the shadows. Still, none of this answered his questions about the boy with the long hair, who seemed, most peculiarly, to have no qualms with running through the castle naked...
"Heero! Attention up."
His head snapped up and the room focused. Lady Po had gotten him dressed already. He stepped down from his perch on a small rococo ottoman and blinked at her, his eyes filling with shame for no reason other than that she stared at him.
"I want to see your best manners here, Heero, the King has asked council with you. It's not likely you'll be alone, but every move you make will be watched, no matter how many people there are in attendance."
Heero nodded, mumbling some response so automatically it didn't even register in his own thoughts. He turned them back to the mystery. Lady Po watched those blue eyes go unmistakably vacant again, and pity cracked her demanding mask. She straightened his coat and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders, realizing sooner or later any odd behavior would pull him from the deep mire of his own mind. She felt her heart breaking and pushed him towards the door, protectively guiding him there for no reason other than it was something the anal retentive 'Lady Po' would do for poor sweet 'Heero Yuy'. She almost felt tears in her eyes, but banished them, knowing there was no reason to shed tears for the internally strong, no matter how weak they tried to appear to be. Even as he spoke an empty good bye to her, she saw his lips move with some unheard soliloquy. She watched him until it did her no more good to do so, then walked in the room and slammed shut the door, falling against it and holding her forehead. Times were hard and dangerous, and Heero Yuy couldn't afford to spend his time chasing orphans around the castle halls.
_____
Noin cradled her head in her hands as she poured over the minutely detailed maps on the soot blackened table before her. She angrily brushed a chunk of errant ash from a perfectly inked hillock and growled at it for interrupting the calculations she was supposed to be making, but hadn't managed to even begin. The battle was too hopeless to be saved. It was a classical general's nightmare, no advantage could be gained on the terrain, no time for elaborately planned tactics could be made, no minute adjustments in the lines would be felt, and no technological difference between forces could be engineered in the time they had. It was the ocean fighting against itself again. Both sides were forced to simply crash men against men in waves until one side or the other was entirely eliminated. Noin slammed her fist on the maps, feeling her face grow hot. Her soldiers could not be saved. A field general scooted nervously to her side and reached to tap her shoulder. She whirled on him before the poor man's hand had even retreated, her own hand gripping her sword hilt.
"How could you interrupt me at such an important junction in planning? Can't you see the maps? If I need your assistance, soldier I would have called for you by name, you understand? Did you hear your name called? I don't remember saying it, Lieutenant Jenks! Did those words pass from my lips, sir?"
The general cowered before her, literally, his face behind one hunched shoulder and his leg raised before him like a defensive barrier. She glared and a ponderous silence hung between them like a hill of fresh snowfall, cold and fragile. Slowly, his leg lowered and he peered over his shoulder,
"L-Lucr- I-I mean...General...Noin..."
She intensified her glare for almost saying her name, realizing full well that he'd have to change armor after having come so close to soiling himself. He blinked, realizing the only thing shorter than her temper at this moment was his time,
"I have something you m-might be interested in...ther-there's a...a...."
Noin growled, "A what you stuttering grunt? Do I have the entire day to waste chatting with you?"
He shook his head frantically, "No, sir! I-nevermind, ma'am. I have someone you might be interested in seeing, ma'am!"
She blinked, smiling sweetly, "And what might this be, Jenks? A parcel of cookies from your mother?"
He flushed, "N-no, ma'am...it's just...I wasn't sure...it's hard to believe."
"Spit it out before I demote you to less than mud, grunt!"
Jenks finally nodded, and shrugged to himself and clasping his charm necklace for luck. He stepped to the side as a particularly bad storm of ash swept past them in the bitter wind. Noin shut her mouth, and shielded her eyes. She spit after it when the wind passed. She lowered her hand and look at where Jenks had been standing. Looking back at her, reeking of blood and fire, was a small, dark haired boy, holding a wrapped parcel. Her mind unreasonably fled to her comment about cookies before she could ground it enough to take in details of the stranger. The darkness on him wasn't just the soot, both his hair and eyes were black as the first night, but his clothing was torn nearly to the point of being impossible to repair, it hung so loosely on his slight frame. His shoulders were powerfully built, but she could tell it was from no sword wielding. She blinked at him, and he stared back, dark eyes shining mistrustfully. He extended his arms, bearing the package across his blackened hands, to her, and fixed her with an unblinking stare,
"a friend of mine told me to give this to you, and said that you would understand."
Noin blinked and reached for the package, but her sensed reacted before she could and her hand recoiled. She reached brusquely and threw off the cover, revealing a shined saber with a streaks of rust colors across it that could only be one thing on this battlefield. The boy seemed to want to drop it, so Noin motioned with her head to her general, who walked forward and took the weapon from him, his look a mystified one. She stared hard at the boy. General Jenks stared at the sword in his hands and spoke softly,
"he came from the enemy camp, sir, but around the back of our own camp. He said he came from the enemy camp."
Noin nodded, giving the sword another uneasy glare. How could she know what it was for?
"Who are you, boy?"
He gave her another suspicious glare, then his mask faltered and he looked more frightened through the brave face he put on, "I'm...Rohan," he muttered, "of the deep woods."
"And where did this sword some from...what is it for?"
He looked up at her with dark eyes again, and shook his head,
"he said you woudl know. And if you didn't, what would happen, would happen without you."
____
They stood in the tavern, the green eyed boy bargaining with the keep for better room and board. They were close enough to their goal that he could afford to spend more on their well being, and the health of his companion. The tavern was nearing emptiness, only a few hardened garrison soldiers and hard working farm folk around them. The blonde haired boy was still swathed in his rags, looking around the room from the darkness of his hood like a slave child staring out at those who bargained for him. The green eyed boy's attention was only partially on his bargaining, his words working as automatically as his gestures. As he reached into his pocket and pulled from it the silver he was willing to bargain with, he heard a strangled cry. He turned, his heart freezing as soon as he heard the noise. The motley collection of brown rags shook, and the boy inside let out another anguished cry, forced harshly through his tormented throat. The boy wavered, his breathing suddenly loud and choked, and the green eyed boy soundlessly rushed to his side, making certain he wouldn't fall. He could not reach the blonde haired boy, he pulled away , the hood falling back just enough to reveal his startled, pale face, rimmed with gold and studded with the two bright sapphire eyes. He choked, his hand over his chest and met the green eyed one's gaze. Tears formed in his eyes and he chocked another cry, clutching his heart. Quietly, a weak voice came out,
"The soldier's town...Calais."
Tears ran freely down his face, uncontrollably, as he gritted his teeth, meeting the green eyed boy's gaze.
"It's...the people... it's...no more."
The green eyed boy said nothing. He stared calmly back at the blonde haired boy and they passed a silent conversation. Slowly, the blonde haired boy controlled his breathing, and a the great sadness returned to his eyes. Even as his tears dried, his face grew heavy with sorrow, and the green eyed boy moved forward as he pulled the hood back down to shadow it once more. He looked into the deep darkness of the hood and stood silently next to his companion. When he finally broke the gaze, he saw the keep standing before him bearing tray filled with bread, cheese, grapes and a pitcher of ale. The man's haggard face was grim as he looked at them. The green eyed boy stared at him silently, and saw the other patrons of the tavern standing, staring back at them. The rags shifted as the blonde haired boy retreated further. The keep glanced at the pile of rags, then back to the green eyed boy,
"A prophet."
The green eyed boy concealed his surprise as the man extended the tray towards them. He took it, but still said nothing. The keep sat and looked sincerely at the pile of rags as the others gathered around him, taking weary seats.
"Anyone who can tell us what's happened to Calais, we would be grateful for. Can a prophet spare his time for our likes?"
The green eyed boy looked back the rags, that shifted to stare back at him. Slowly, the blonde haired boy pulled the hood back and coughed a bloody racking cough to his side, using the rags to clean himself. The others looked at him sympathetically, and the keep offered a chair. He sat down, whispering a thank you in a dry voice. He fixed his blue eyes on them,
"Not a prophet..."
____
AN:"ARRGGGHHH, Short timed, I'm so sorry this took so long! Really! I hope you guys enjoyed it, I put in a few scene I was doubtful about, but I hope the longer episode is a bit of a compensation for it being so late! grrr...I don't have a lot of time to say much, but I hope you enjoyed, keep the suggestions and guesses coming. I'll give you your own guest spot if you can tell me what's going on with Duo and Treize....heehee
til next time, spirits.
Kitten
Step Right.
Slash.
Swirl. Smoke.
About, face the enemy charge.
Again? How can they charge so many tiring times?
Clash, the bang of steel. The rough gritty face before her singed and grinning like a broken marionette, his jaw fixed by an ugly break and painted with scarlet. Their steel met inches before their bodies did; she had to brace herself in the mud against his weight. Throw him back with a single arm and slash with the other. A flash and he's gone, and she must face the challenge to her side.
Noin held her face in her blackened gloves and recalled every excruciatingly confusing step of the battle. Up, Up, Up it seemed they had charged into the heart of a bloodthirsty barbarian army. Incoherent battle cries mingled with sounds too horrible to recognize and too familiar to note. Up and Up again. Charge Charge, why must the charge against her? Why were they like so many portions of wave, crashing against one another in the darkest kind of night there was. The night of a general's soul when battle was fought for senseless, stupid causes.
Like a monarch's imagined honor.
Like some fool notion of protest.
It wasn't those who were the figureheads that fought, it was -her- soldiers. Even in Naval battles the ship's figurehead was used as a battering ram, a tool. But this was land war. It was her army that died. Her army that was bashed against the rocks of defense, that melted into the confused clouds of blood as offense met offense. It was her boys they killed, and not some random village idiot or simpering nobleman's son. The day had long died since any monarch sent his own son into honorable battle as anything less than a general. Less than a general as Noin had been, and was, even though she had clawed her way through the ranks to meet that impassable barrier that was...
that was no more than this man before her.
Slice, gash, blood. A sword through the heart for him. The mercenary grimaced at her, his face inches away, even as she yanked her sword from his chest. And him, she thought as she turned to another mercenary expecting to skewer her from the side. Slash. His head rolled backward, a partially broken spine the only thing holding it on. He fell to his knees, and then forward into the dirt. She smiled and charged forward.
Upward, upward, Charge. No barrier was impassible.
Nothing since...him.
_____
Heero stared. Stared like he always did when something was going on that he didn't want to deal with. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind occupied with things far above this petty...
"Dress, Heero! For the sake of...of...of something will you get up and dress properly?"
Lady Po glared at him, her normally soft voice reaching the rare point of threshold volume. She never actually yelled.
"If I hadn't spent half this last five hours tearing around the hallways looking for you'd I'd be able to debrief you on what's going on!"
'Debrief,' Heero stood and began the laborious process of removing the outer vestments he had on now, 'There she goes revealing herself again.'
If Lady Po ever had admitted to him that she used to be a woman like Noin, he would not have been surprised. As it was, she didn't, so he still wasn't. He wondered if he should act surprised when the time came.
"What do you think you've been doing wandering around this castle? You may not have realized it, but it's as dangerous for you these days as it is for the king."
He nodded, muttering an apology and pretending he needed to focus on his buttons. She frowned at him even as he ignored her and gave up her pursuit of his attention for the moment. Heero only notice dit was easier to forget her voice than usual as she helped him change. His mind was solely on the long haired boy, and what he was doing in the castle. Heero had been strictly educated in the courtiers, and other castle layabouts, but he had not registered the presence of a boy that looked like a woman. If he really was a castle regular, or irregular, he would need to report him to Po. However, he found himself reluctant to speak on the matter with her. It wasn't just that he'd gone on a white stag chase after the elusive figure all afternoon that kept his mouth from working properly, it was that he wasn't certain it was any of his interest. If he started to appear jumpy around Lady Po, she would be concerned for his safety, and take him home, in spite of the king, if she could. With a wince he realized that he didn't want to go home, not yet. Or, maybe, not ever. He wanted to see Noin again, and the others, he supposed, but he could live his life without seeing the castle again. He didn't want to think about it. He would miss his library, but it was meager compared to the castle library. He held still while Lady Po pulled off his vest perhaps a little more roughly than usual. It was also odd, but, he realized, he didn't really enjoy the castle library either. Something about it made him uneasy. Maybe it was the ghostlike noble who lingered like a late melting snow near the library at all times, the one they called Milliardo. He recalled Po speaking about him. Rumored to be the old King's doxy, Milliardo was almost disgraced out of court, but instead he had thrived as an advisor from the shadows. Still, none of this answered his questions about the boy with the long hair, who seemed, most peculiarly, to have no qualms with running through the castle naked...
"Heero! Attention up."
His head snapped up and the room focused. Lady Po had gotten him dressed already. He stepped down from his perch on a small rococo ottoman and blinked at her, his eyes filling with shame for no reason other than that she stared at him.
"I want to see your best manners here, Heero, the King has asked council with you. It's not likely you'll be alone, but every move you make will be watched, no matter how many people there are in attendance."
Heero nodded, mumbling some response so automatically it didn't even register in his own thoughts. He turned them back to the mystery. Lady Po watched those blue eyes go unmistakably vacant again, and pity cracked her demanding mask. She straightened his coat and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders, realizing sooner or later any odd behavior would pull him from the deep mire of his own mind. She felt her heart breaking and pushed him towards the door, protectively guiding him there for no reason other than it was something the anal retentive 'Lady Po' would do for poor sweet 'Heero Yuy'. She almost felt tears in her eyes, but banished them, knowing there was no reason to shed tears for the internally strong, no matter how weak they tried to appear to be. Even as he spoke an empty good bye to her, she saw his lips move with some unheard soliloquy. She watched him until it did her no more good to do so, then walked in the room and slammed shut the door, falling against it and holding her forehead. Times were hard and dangerous, and Heero Yuy couldn't afford to spend his time chasing orphans around the castle halls.
_____
Noin cradled her head in her hands as she poured over the minutely detailed maps on the soot blackened table before her. She angrily brushed a chunk of errant ash from a perfectly inked hillock and growled at it for interrupting the calculations she was supposed to be making, but hadn't managed to even begin. The battle was too hopeless to be saved. It was a classical general's nightmare, no advantage could be gained on the terrain, no time for elaborately planned tactics could be made, no minute adjustments in the lines would be felt, and no technological difference between forces could be engineered in the time they had. It was the ocean fighting against itself again. Both sides were forced to simply crash men against men in waves until one side or the other was entirely eliminated. Noin slammed her fist on the maps, feeling her face grow hot. Her soldiers could not be saved. A field general scooted nervously to her side and reached to tap her shoulder. She whirled on him before the poor man's hand had even retreated, her own hand gripping her sword hilt.
"How could you interrupt me at such an important junction in planning? Can't you see the maps? If I need your assistance, soldier I would have called for you by name, you understand? Did you hear your name called? I don't remember saying it, Lieutenant Jenks! Did those words pass from my lips, sir?"
The general cowered before her, literally, his face behind one hunched shoulder and his leg raised before him like a defensive barrier. She glared and a ponderous silence hung between them like a hill of fresh snowfall, cold and fragile. Slowly, his leg lowered and he peered over his shoulder,
"L-Lucr- I-I mean...General...Noin..."
She intensified her glare for almost saying her name, realizing full well that he'd have to change armor after having come so close to soiling himself. He blinked, realizing the only thing shorter than her temper at this moment was his time,
"I have something you m-might be interested in...ther-there's a...a...."
Noin growled, "A what you stuttering grunt? Do I have the entire day to waste chatting with you?"
He shook his head frantically, "No, sir! I-nevermind, ma'am. I have someone you might be interested in seeing, ma'am!"
She blinked, smiling sweetly, "And what might this be, Jenks? A parcel of cookies from your mother?"
He flushed, "N-no, ma'am...it's just...I wasn't sure...it's hard to believe."
"Spit it out before I demote you to less than mud, grunt!"
Jenks finally nodded, and shrugged to himself and clasping his charm necklace for luck. He stepped to the side as a particularly bad storm of ash swept past them in the bitter wind. Noin shut her mouth, and shielded her eyes. She spit after it when the wind passed. She lowered her hand and look at where Jenks had been standing. Looking back at her, reeking of blood and fire, was a small, dark haired boy, holding a wrapped parcel. Her mind unreasonably fled to her comment about cookies before she could ground it enough to take in details of the stranger. The darkness on him wasn't just the soot, both his hair and eyes were black as the first night, but his clothing was torn nearly to the point of being impossible to repair, it hung so loosely on his slight frame. His shoulders were powerfully built, but she could tell it was from no sword wielding. She blinked at him, and he stared back, dark eyes shining mistrustfully. He extended his arms, bearing the package across his blackened hands, to her, and fixed her with an unblinking stare,
"a friend of mine told me to give this to you, and said that you would understand."
Noin blinked and reached for the package, but her sensed reacted before she could and her hand recoiled. She reached brusquely and threw off the cover, revealing a shined saber with a streaks of rust colors across it that could only be one thing on this battlefield. The boy seemed to want to drop it, so Noin motioned with her head to her general, who walked forward and took the weapon from him, his look a mystified one. She stared hard at the boy. General Jenks stared at the sword in his hands and spoke softly,
"he came from the enemy camp, sir, but around the back of our own camp. He said he came from the enemy camp."
Noin nodded, giving the sword another uneasy glare. How could she know what it was for?
"Who are you, boy?"
He gave her another suspicious glare, then his mask faltered and he looked more frightened through the brave face he put on, "I'm...Rohan," he muttered, "of the deep woods."
"And where did this sword some from...what is it for?"
He looked up at her with dark eyes again, and shook his head,
"he said you woudl know. And if you didn't, what would happen, would happen without you."
____
They stood in the tavern, the green eyed boy bargaining with the keep for better room and board. They were close enough to their goal that he could afford to spend more on their well being, and the health of his companion. The tavern was nearing emptiness, only a few hardened garrison soldiers and hard working farm folk around them. The blonde haired boy was still swathed in his rags, looking around the room from the darkness of his hood like a slave child staring out at those who bargained for him. The green eyed boy's attention was only partially on his bargaining, his words working as automatically as his gestures. As he reached into his pocket and pulled from it the silver he was willing to bargain with, he heard a strangled cry. He turned, his heart freezing as soon as he heard the noise. The motley collection of brown rags shook, and the boy inside let out another anguished cry, forced harshly through his tormented throat. The boy wavered, his breathing suddenly loud and choked, and the green eyed boy soundlessly rushed to his side, making certain he wouldn't fall. He could not reach the blonde haired boy, he pulled away , the hood falling back just enough to reveal his startled, pale face, rimmed with gold and studded with the two bright sapphire eyes. He choked, his hand over his chest and met the green eyed one's gaze. Tears formed in his eyes and he chocked another cry, clutching his heart. Quietly, a weak voice came out,
"The soldier's town...Calais."
Tears ran freely down his face, uncontrollably, as he gritted his teeth, meeting the green eyed boy's gaze.
"It's...the people... it's...no more."
The green eyed boy said nothing. He stared calmly back at the blonde haired boy and they passed a silent conversation. Slowly, the blonde haired boy controlled his breathing, and a the great sadness returned to his eyes. Even as his tears dried, his face grew heavy with sorrow, and the green eyed boy moved forward as he pulled the hood back down to shadow it once more. He looked into the deep darkness of the hood and stood silently next to his companion. When he finally broke the gaze, he saw the keep standing before him bearing tray filled with bread, cheese, grapes and a pitcher of ale. The man's haggard face was grim as he looked at them. The green eyed boy stared at him silently, and saw the other patrons of the tavern standing, staring back at them. The rags shifted as the blonde haired boy retreated further. The keep glanced at the pile of rags, then back to the green eyed boy,
"A prophet."
The green eyed boy concealed his surprise as the man extended the tray towards them. He took it, but still said nothing. The keep sat and looked sincerely at the pile of rags as the others gathered around him, taking weary seats.
"Anyone who can tell us what's happened to Calais, we would be grateful for. Can a prophet spare his time for our likes?"
The green eyed boy looked back the rags, that shifted to stare back at him. Slowly, the blonde haired boy pulled the hood back and coughed a bloody racking cough to his side, using the rags to clean himself. The others looked at him sympathetically, and the keep offered a chair. He sat down, whispering a thank you in a dry voice. He fixed his blue eyes on them,
"Not a prophet..."
____
AN:"ARRGGGHHH, Short timed, I'm so sorry this took so long! Really! I hope you guys enjoyed it, I put in a few scene I was doubtful about, but I hope the longer episode is a bit of a compensation for it being so late! grrr...I don't have a lot of time to say much, but I hope you enjoyed, keep the suggestions and guesses coming. I'll give you your own guest spot if you can tell me what's going on with Duo and Treize....heehee
til next time, spirits.
Kitten