Warning: AU, Fantasy, PG-13, Ran/Ken way, WAY in the future.

Apology: Sorry again. My section breaks got eaten in the last chapter. Hopefully I've corrected the problem. I'm sure that made it really confusing to read, but I was sick as a dog and didn't want to go back to fix it. Sorry again. Also, I had wanted this to go up first thing in the morning, but events were against me. But yes, I do plan on posting every Monday. :)

Author's Note: More of KenKen's life and trials. Poor little guy!

Disclaimer: Weiss belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.

First Born of the Thirteenth House

Part 1: Ken (b)

Ken sighed in exasperation and blew his long bangs out of his eyes. He leaned on the long handle of the rake and scowled up at the large black horse before him. At seven he wasn't more than average of height, but he was virtually fearless, and the only one besides Mr. Tucker who could clean Big Blacky's stall. The large horse snorted loudly and flicked his tail. Ken glared at him.

"You know I gotta do it," he said. "An' I hafta do Twinkle 'n Daisy's after."

The large horse put his ears back and waved his lips at the glaring boy.

Ken pressed his lips into a determined line. He opened the door to the connecting stall and without blinking wacked Big Blacky across the butt with the flat of the rake. The large horse kicked out but shot forward. Ken deftly avoided the hooves and closed the connecting door once the large mammal was through it.

"Thanks fer nuthin, ya dumb brute," he muttered as he began raking out the old straw.

He sighed again. He didn't really mind cleaning the stalls, or feeding the animals, or any of the other chores he did for the Tuckers. He was well fed, had clean clothes, and shared a bed with their three youngest sons. He wasn't alone, but they weren't his family and had never tried to be. Although he got along with the Tucker children well enough, not one of them had become as close a friend as Tris had been. And although his memories of his life before that night were vague he knew they'd been happy, and he missed his parents and Tris.

In no time Big Blacky's stall was raked clean with fresh straw spread across the floor. Ken left the stall kicking the door shut behind him then leaned over the wall, with the aide of a bucket as a stool, and used the handle of the rake to unlatch the connecting door between the stalls and slide it open. Big Blacky charged through ready to reclaim his territory. Once he was back in Ken used the rake to slide the connecting door shut.

"Your name oughtta be Big Dummy," he said, shaking his head.

The large black horse marched up to the boy and shoved him off the bucket with his nose. Looking down at the boy sprawled on the barn floor the horse snorted once more before turning to his oats.

Ken finished cleaning the other stalls before returning to the house for some breakfast. He was alone on the farm for the first time, but tried to retain his usual routine.

It was late fall and the Tuckers had gone to the market festival with the grain and vegetables that they wouldn't need themselves over the winter. Hopefully, they'd be able to sell or trade them for goods or materials. The two oldest children needed new shoes, and they were always in need of more plates and cups. Ken had an unfortunate tendency toward clumsiness when handling delicate objects. He'd been taken off dish duty his second month. Mrs. Tucker was also hoping to find some more lesson books. The older children were beyond the ones they had and the youngest all had to share.

The year before they'd had very good luck at the market festival. Ken had remained on the farm for that one too, but under the watchful eye of Daniel, the oldest. This year Daniel had a prize pig he wanted to show, and Mr. Tucker had decided Ken was old enough, and experienced enough, to stay on his own.

He'd been nervous at first, but proud too that they'd trust him. He was determined that everything would run smoothly. All he really had to do was feed and water the three horses they hadn't taken with them. Clean their stalls and the house, and feed and pick up after himself. Once a day a soldier would come from the Big House on rounds to make sure there was no trouble. There were many farm families away at the festival and looting was always a worry. Ken had to report to him, and that made him slightly nervous. He still worried about being recognized.

Most of the week had passed trouble free and Ken was beginning to look forward to the Tuckers' return. They'd come home with lots of fun tales and interesting items last year, and he could hardly wait to hear their stories and see what they'd found.

He was almost to the porch when he stopped walking and turned to face the woods at the side of the house. Something was wrong. The noisy chittering of the morning birds had stopped. Cautiously he mounted the steps and the porch still listening. A deep pounding reached his ears. It grew louder until he could feel the vibration through his feet on the porch. Suddenly a herd of deer burst from the trees. Dozens of them charged across the yard between the house and barns. Dashing head long into the woods on the far side.

As Ken stared, dumbfounded, the deer were joined by all manner of the forest's occupants. Moose, fox, rabbits, and wolves crossed the yard before him. None looked his way or paid him any mind, but continued to run. Even a bear lumbered its way through followed by severl skunks.

Shaken, the boy clung to the porch railing and watched the last of the animals disappear into the trees on the far side of the yard. He gradually became aware of a strange roaring noise coming from the woods the animals had just fled. Above him the sky was darkened by huge billowing clouds.

"Smoke?" he asked aloud, confused.

A moment later he was running for the barn. He flung open the stalls and scared the horses out. Twinkle and Daisy fled immediately. Once outside the barn they caught the scent and followed the other animals into the opposite line of trees.

Big Blacky was another story. He refused to budge. When he couldn't get the large horse moving by smacking him with the rake Ken raced to the tack room and pulled down his bridle.

Using the bucket again he climbed up and placed the bridle on the large horse. Big Blacky may be stubborn about his stall, but he loved going for rides. The only problem Ken could foresee was that he'd never ridden him before. In fact, he'd never ridden any horse before, but this was an emergency.

Once the bridle was on he grabbed hold of Big Blacky's mane and pulled himself on.

"Okay, Big Dummy, go!" he cried.

The horse didn't move.

"If you don't go we're gonna die! Go!"

In desperation he kicked at Big Blacky's sides. The large beast neighed loudly and shot forward at a quick trot. He left the barn with head held high and promptly got a face full of smoke. Whining loudly in panic the horse reared and bolted. It was all Ken could do to hold on. The animal crashed through the line of trees and raced into the woods.

Tree branches whipped past his head and pulled at his hair and clothes. He held onto Big Blacky's mane and bent low over his neck just trying to remain seated. Ken couldn't even begin to see where they were going much less try to control the horse.

Big Blacky galloped through the woods twisting and turning to avoid trees and rocks. The smell of smoke was everywhere now, driving him onward. He jumped a fallen log, tore through a grove of pine, and slid down an embankment into a river.

The sudden jolt when the horse hit the river bottom unseated Ken who fell backwards over Big Blacky's rump. He landed in the water and came up sputtering. The horse hadn't stopped and Ken emerged just in time to see him climb the far bank and disappear into the trees. Ken stood in the running water and blinked in astonishment. Well, at least he'd gotten them out of the barn.

Behind him he could hear the dull roar fast approaching. Smoke and ash were in the air which was quickly getting hotter. Ken turned around to face the oncoming blaze. A hot, dry wind blasted at him from the trees. It blew his hair back and burned his skin. He covered his face with his arms to shield it but it wasn't enough. In desperation he reached within himself and pushed back against the wall of heat. Summoning the power he created his own wind to blow the fire away from him. It roared in protest as it was forced back upon itself. Ken's wind turned it back the way it had come. Making it feed upon itself until there was nothing left.

With a cry Ken collapsed into the river. He crouched there on hands and knees taking huge gulps of air. He felt empty somehow. Drained and tired. Slowly he stood and dragged himself from the water. Once on the bank he fell into a deep sleep.

By the time Ken awoke it was late afternoon. He sat up, confused as to why he was in the woods on the bank of a river, and hungry. Clutching his stomach he climbed to his feet. The charred and blackened remains of the woods brought back a flood of memories. Ken took off back toward the farm.

When he got there the sun had almost set. Its dying rays cast the debris of the ruined farm in long shadows. There was almost nothing left. One of the barns had a wall still standing, and the large chimney of the house was still intact, but that was all.

Ken sat down hard in defeat. How could this have happened? How were the Tuckers going to live? Why hadn't he thought to make the wind here instead of at the river? He sighed.

"Boy?"

Ken looked up, startled. The young soldier he was supposed to report to was sitting astride his horse a little way off. He was holding up a lantern which cast his expression of relieved disbelief in yellow light.

"By heaven, it is you," the young man said. "How in blazes did you survive this inferno?"

"R-r-rode to the river," Ken stated shyly. "But I fell off and lost the horse."

"Well, at least you're safe. Come on," the soldier motioned for Ken to approach. "I can't leave you here."

Ken sat where he was and stared at the soldier in apprehension.

"Come on, Boy. I have to check the other farmsteads still."

When Ken still didn't move the soldier sighed and turned his mount to approach the boy. Ken's eyes went wide with fright. There was only one place the soldier could intend to take him. He shot to his feet and turned to run, but had no hope of outdistancing a trained rider on a horse.

At the first sign that Ken would bolt the soldier spurred his horse. Before the boy could even take a step the young man had him by the collar and was hoisting him into the saddle. Ken lashed out frantically, but the soldier avoided all his blows and settled him in his seat, holding him in place. The lantern swung from its hook on the saddle.

"Easy, Boy, easy. You're not in trouble, lad. Easy."

Ken sat silently, huffing out deep breaths into the growing twilight. His struggles ceased, but he began to shake as his mind flashed back to being held in the dark and carried to his supposed death. In his ears he could only hear the cries of his father and Tris's scream.

"Boy!" the soldier cried shaking Ken out of his nightmares. "Are you alright? Answer me."

Ken nodded, still gulping air.

"You're not in trouble. Understand?" When Ken nodded again the soldier continued, "I've got to take you to the Great House for your own safety. What if the fire should start again?"

Ken could hardly tell the man he'd been the one to put it out, so he shrugged.

"Have you ever been to the Great House?" asked the soldier.

Ken automatically shook his head.

"Well, there. Think of it as a great adventure. There'll be others there who survived the flames, and the House folk'll feed you. Just think, a vacation in the Great House until the Tuckers can come and claim you."

Ken leaned against the soldier and listened to what he said. Of course, it made sense. He would be placed with the other survivors not shown into the great room and taken before the Lord. And soon the Tuckers would come home and ask for him. He relaxed a little.

"There now," said the soldier, sensing the easing of his tension. "I'll take you back and make sure you're seen to before I head off to the other farmsteads. All right?"

Ken nodded slightly. The soldier relaxed his hold and ruffled the boy's hair. They were almost to the Great House when Ken realized it would be servants who saw to the survivors, and it had been servants that had removed he and Tris from his room.

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Ken sat huddled on his pallet and kept watch. A long room on the ground floor of the House had been converted into a bed and dining room for the survivors of the fire. Most of them, like him, were young servants or children left to watch the farms and houses while their families were at market. The meeting tables were placed along one wall, while a row of sleeping pallets were along another. At one end of the room was a smaller table which was used to serve their meals to them.

Ken had been at the Great House for four days. So far, he hadn't seen anyone he recognized except his father's groomsmen. He'd seen them in the stable the night he'd arrived with the soldier. They'd glanced at him without a hint of recognition. Despite that he was wary. At any moment the Footman could walk in and get him. He shivered and huddled closer to the wall.

Over the last two days some of the survivors had been called away. Either sent for by their families, or someone from their homes had come to collect them. Ken found himself longing for word from the Tuckers. Whenever the messenger entered he said a silent prayer.

"Is the Tucker's boy here?" called a loud voice from the room's entrance.

Ken blinked then shot to his feet.

"Here!" he cried, desperation and relief making his voice louder than usual.

"Come with me," said the young woman who'd called him as she turned and exited the room.

Ken trotted after her anxiously. He thought she looked a little familiar, but he wasn't sure. The hall they moved down was full of people intent on their own business. Ken kept as close to the young woman as possible and peeked at people from under his long bangs. They went through a small door in the main hallway and entered a series of short corridors. Suddenly Ken found himself in a small office facing the butler. His father's butler.

The young woman left him there, standing in shock before the man's small desk. He ducked his head and hunched his shoulders. He couldn't stop shaking. The butler glanced briefly at him over his glasses. Then took a long searching look, but shook his head and resumed writing in a large book which lay open on his desk.

"You are the Tucker's boy, I presume?" he asked in a haughty, cold tone.

Ken nodded. The butler glanced at him again.

"Can't you speak?" he asked.

"Y-y-yes," Ken stuttered, trying hard not to panic.

"Do you have a name?" When Ken didn't answer he sighed. "What do they call you?"

"B-b-boy," Ken said in a small voice.

"Your age and parentage, please," the butler demanded.

"I'm seven," Ken said then paused. What could he say? He couldn't tell the butler who his parents were. Why did he want to know? Did he suspect something? Ken took at longer look at the butler through his bangs. The man tapped his pencil on the book and looked expectantly at Ken. "I-I-I...."

"You don't know who your parents are?"

Ken shook his head. The butler sighed and wrote in the book, then set his pencil down.

"Well, boy, we've informed the Tuckers of the loss of their farm and not surprisingly they've decided to remain in Town. Since they can't afford to have you sent to them they've asked that we either find you a new position with another family or provide one for you ourselves."

Ken stopped breathing. They'd abandoned him. They'd left him to fate, alone in the Devil's own den. He felt light headed and the room started spinning.

"They've given you quite a good recommendation, and...are you all right?"

Ken took a deep breath and blinked against the burning in his eyes. He nodded.

"They've informed us that you've been working in the stables. Unfortunately, we have more than enough hands there at present. How are you at chopping wood?"

The butler looked Ken over once again. This time he seemed to be sizing him up.

"Well, perhaps you're a bit small for that yet, but we always need people to keep our wood bins stocked. So, from now on you'll be one of our wood boys. How does that suit you?"

When all Ken did was stand there shaking the butler arched an eyebrow at him.

"I feel I should inform you about how fortunate you are. Not many girls or boys get the opportunity to serve the Great House at so young an age. You should keep that in mind," the butler said, then glanced back at his book. "Do you think you can find your way back to the room you've been staying in?"

Ken nodded.

"Good. Go and fetch your sleeping pallet. Marianne will show you where you will be sleeping and she'll take you to meet the Grounds Keeper and the Wood Master. That will be all."

Ken stood still for a moment then turned slowly to leave the office.

"You could say 'thank you', boy," the butler called after him.

"Th-thank you," he muttered and closed the door behind him.

Over the next few days Ken followed Marianne or another of the many lesser servants around the House and yard. He was shown how to reach the back attic where the servants slept in tiny rooms, their pallets laid out on the floors, and all through the cleverly hidden staircases and corridors the servants used to remain out of sight. He learned when his meal times would be and where his place at table was. He joined several larger boys in the task of delivering wood. He was given certain rooms to keep track of. During this time he did his best to follow instructions while still trying to disguise himself. All the while fighting against a terrible depression which had settled on him. At times he wished for discovery so it would all be over. He decided if he went undiscovered until spring then he'd run away.

The work helped with his depression, as did the routine. Once he'd learned it, it was easy to follow. Constantly carrying heavy loads of wood was tedious, but exhausting enough to ensure he slept soundly. After several weeks he began to relax and stopped worrying about being recognized. The few servants he saw and knew didn't know him, and he heard from Marianne that no one survived the assassins, which meant no one was looking for him.

When he'd been there six weeks an accident occurred which caused a shifting of assignments. He was asked to fill the wood bins with another boy on the first floor of the House. These were the rooms used by the Lord and his nobles for estate business. Ken brushed his hair into his face with his fingers and tried to hunch up. The other boy looked at him funny, but didn't say anything. Together they made their way up the back stairs.

It was early winter and the fire places were in constant use. The wood carriers worked almost non-stop from dawn until dusk keeping the bins full.

As they exited the door to the back stairs and entered the gallery hall on the first floor Ken almost tripped and fell. This was the first area Ken had been to in the House that he truly recognized. The gallery hall stretched along the entire front of the house. Large windows faced out over the court yard on one side, and the family portraits covered the walls on the other. All the offices, meeting rooms, and the library extended off of it and worked their way toward the back of the House in a series of interconnecting rooms and little passages. Ken remembered running the length of the gallery almost daily with Tris. It had always been dotted with groups of important looking people having intense discussions and it still was.

Ken ducked his head again and followed close behind the other boy. They slipped into a small office and paused to fill the bin before continuing through to the next one. From there they crossed a small corridor and entered the library.

The library was just as Ken remembered it, large and dusty. It was full of tables, chairs, paintings, busts of famous people, had two fireplaces, and of course, books. Hundreds of books on tall shelves which stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

Ken followed the boy to the first fireplace and helped him empty his canvas carrier, then they moved onto the second fireplace. As they stooped to empty Ken's carrier a noise behind them alerted them to someone's presence. The older boy turned to see who it was then straightened up with his head bowed and elbowed Ken to do the same. Ken followed suit, wondering who it could be.

"Carry on, boys. Don't mind me," said a quiet voice.

Ken's head snapped up immediately. Before him at the nearest table sat his uncle in a warm robe and his customary cap. He felt his heart almost stop. He'd assumed his uncle was dead. He'd thought his entire family had been killed. Ken's heart soared with joy, but before he could say anything a shadow fell across his uncle's figure and another man stepped from behind a book shelf.

"My Lord, I have 'ya daily schedule."

Ken froze. His smile fell from his face before it could fully form, his voice died in his throat. It was the Footman. THE FOOTMAN.

Ken began to shake. He couldn't move. He was sure he was going to die. But the other boy elbowed him hard to get his attention, and motioned for him to continue loading the bin. Automatically he stooped to remove the wood from his carrier. He stacked it in the bin. He stood and followed the older boy from the library.

It wasn't until they were back in the service stairs that he fully realized he hadn't been caught. He pressed a shaking hand to his heart and breathed in relief, but it was short lived. That evil man was with his uncle. What if he killed him too? Why hadn't he killed him already? Ken raced to catch up with the older boy and tugged on his sleeve.

"Who was that man?" he asked.

"That were the Lord," answered the boy pulling free of Ken's hold.

Ken blinked. His uncle had taken his father's place? Shaking his head he tugged the boy's sleeve again.

"No, the other man," Ken asked.

"Who? Chancellor Weston?"

The boy tugged free again and hurriedly descended the stairs. Ken stumbled to a halt. His uncle was in his father's position as Lord, and the man who'd tried to kill him was elevated from footman to chancellor? What did that mean? Was his uncle deceived or...? Ken slowly began walking again. He didn't like where his thoughts were going.

Over the next few hours Ken worked with the older boy and saw his uncle several more times. The ex-footman was always in attendance, always deferred to by others. The more Ken saw the more concerned he became.

He did discover that the servants were barely glanced at, and no one noticed him as anything more than a wood boy. Even in the more familiar areas of the House where there was a chance he'd be recognized no one even looked twice at him. By the end of the day he was both relieved and confused. That night he asked Marianne about Chancellor Weston.

"Well," she said, "he's Lord Hidaka's right hand. He was a footman two years ago when the late Lord was killed. He caught one of the assassins himself and discovered three others. The new Lord might'a been killed if not for him."

Ken had to bite his tongue to keep silent.

"The new Lord was mighty pleased with Chancellor Weston. Made him chancellor right off. And the Chancellor, he's been a loyal officer and friend to Lord Hidaka. Works right hard for the Lord. O' course, I heard it were Lord Hidaka that found Chancellor Weston and got him his position as footman, so naturally he feels indebted to the Lord."

"Unc-I mean, the Lord got the Chancellor his position? Way back when he was footman?" Ken asked trying to sound more curious and less upset.

"Yeah, I heard the late Lord didn't like him, but the Chancellor, he fought for him and his family none the less. He felt terrible he couldn't save them, but the new Lord, he said he'd done all he could and that there's no sense in fretting. He spoke to everyone when he came from the First House. Said we'd done what we could, but it was time to move on. O' course, that were before the failed Ascension"

Ken almost stopped walking.

Failed Ascension? His uncle hadn't Ascended to the Thirteenth Seat? But he was the Lord wasn't he?

Ken knew what the Ascension was. His mother had told him the story of his father's often enough. The ceremony in which the magic of the Seat, the magic special to the Thirteenth House accepted the heir as the new Lord or Lady and gifted them with all its power. They in turn ruled with kindness and honor. If his uncle's Ascension had failed what did that mean?

"W-what do ya mean failed?" he asked.

"The magic didn't take 'im," she whispered. "We're not supposed to speak of it. There are some that said he was in on it. The assassinations. But I say what'd it get 'im if that were true? He's not fool enough to leave the prestige an' pleasures of the First House for this back wood manor. An' 'is daughter, 'is heir, she ran mad after."

Ken was shaking by the time she'd finished speaking. His mind spun and he tasted bile. How could his uncle trust the ex-footman? He found him his position? He remembered the discussion he'd witnessed between his father and uncle about Weston, even if he hadn't understood all of it at the time. His father wanted to let the Footman go, his uncle wanted him to stay. And the Ascension failed. The Seat didn't accept his uncle or his eldest cousin.

Ken didn't understand what it meant, but he didn't like the feeling in his stomach. For the first time since his arrival he wasn't frightened or sad. He was angry.

For the next few weeks Ken worked with the other boy filling the wood bins on the first floor, and he didn't like what he saw. By the time he was switched back to his original assignment he was no longer afraid of being caught, and he had no intention of running away in the spring. He would stay where he was. He would learn all he could. When he was big enough and strong enough he would seek revenge.

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Author's Note: What'd ya think? Please, let me know. Pleease! Thanks fer readin'!

Seph Lorraine: Yep, he's got magical abilities. I explain it all later, so please just bare with me. I just hope its not too confusing. Yeah, very Romanov's. Could've even been a subconscious influence. I've read a lot about them. I hope I've gotten his character a little closer to what' he's like in the Weiss manga and anime than I did in the other two that I wrote. We'll have to see. He's still really little in this right now. More anger later. ;)

The Invisible Fan: That's what I feel like sometimes. An invisible fan. Anyway, I'm glad you liked it so far. I'll be updating every Monday if possible. :)

Mondtanz: I'm glad you're liking it so far! Yes, Tris was very important. And I will explain Kase later and Tris too, so just hold on, okay? I don't want to ruin it here. The other boys are coming in Chapter four! Yes, a weekly update! :)

Bine: Oh, thanks. blush I'm glad you like them! Yep, weekly updates just like before. I guess I'd better go start typing up more chapters. Heh-heh. :)

Akimoto Kin: Yes, it takes place in a fantasy world. Its easier to just make something up than trying to keep to what actually exists. For me anyway. Yeah, he's the only child of the now late Lord. Ya know, that never occurred to me. That he's been effected by assassins but normally he is one. Hunh. I'm glad you pointed that out! :)

RoseRed5: Yeah, poor Ken. I'm glad you find it interesting so far. :)

Chitoshiya no Tohma: Yeah, poor starved KenKen. But he found a safe place. :)

Swtjemz: I'm glad you liked it! Yeah, he's safe...or he was...anyway, poor Ken. And Tristan too! I do like that name. It just came to me and so I used it. No Isolda though. huggles back :)

Chaosdreamer: O.O A real, actual review from you! Wow! Hurray! Yes, life can be a sad mistress. Yeah, no yaoi. Everyone'll have to look for that in the sequel. And you all thought I took a long time in getting them together last time. Hah! I hope it won't disappoint. I'm hoping the story will be what draws people. crosses fingers Hey, when are you updating? ;)

Ru-chan: Thanks! I hope the rest will be just as intriguing. :)