Author: disintegrate

Title: Crimson Rain

Chapter: Rewind: First Observation

Genre: supernatural/romance

Summary: She was supposed to be dead. Fortunately or unfortunately, you hadn't killed her.

Disclaimer: I don't own Nanoha or its characters. In fact, I suppose this is completely AU in the way I might as well have used any sort of characters to fit its roles.

Warning: Expect violent themes, fights, vampire like people who are not vampires. Demons, I suppose, would be a more correct word for them. But, this world of mine is completely unique. It doesn't take place in any well known realm. Just, well, you'll see as we go along, ne?

These first few chapters, the rewind arc will be setting up just what happened in the first chapter. It'll focus more on Signum's point of view rather than Fate's (although it will still be told in third person) for the first third of the rewind arc.

... oh, and there's a reason why Fate is called "Child" or "the child" for the first few chapters. Bare with it please.

The first thing she notices about the child is how her eyes never change. Red like wine, they stare up at her and into her soul. The stance she takes is defensive, apprehensive, questioning (but very crude, untrained, reckless).

She doesn't understand why the woman took her in and neither does the woman.

Traditionally, Signum would have tied her down or placed her somewhere she couldn't hurt anyone (including herself). Instead, here the child was, unbound and free (and right about to hurt herself again).

The swordswoman watched as the child tried to prepare a stance. It was futile, Signum knew. While her wounds were completely healed now (well, other than her leg), the child hadn't had any rest. Her stance, as awkward as it was, had been slanted in such a way that Signum could easily take her down with one grab. So, there was no chance for her to escape if she tried. However, if she kept this up, the child's leg might heal improperly and she'd gain an awkward gait.

"Sit."

She ordered. Like always, it was mechanical, cold, but there was always that sense of mockery that underling her tone.

"…"

The child didn't like it, defiantly keeping with her odd stance. But, she wasn't moving now. She wasn't fidgeting in place. The child didn't trust the woman one bit and, after a second's rest, she prepared to find some way out of there. Signum's next words kept her still.

"If you keep moving, you'll never walk properly again."

The child frowned and looked down at her mangled leg. Finding that she couldn't quite remember just how she had gotten it. (Signum wasn't going to tell her that she'd gotten it from trying to kick her in the face but missing and hitting the wall earlier when she'd tried to wake up the child.)

"I'll fix it."

She nodded, easing up now. As Signum inched closer to the blonde, she saw those haunting burgundy eyes stared up at her once more, illustrating her confusion. It reminded her of the moment she changed her out of those blood-soaked clothes. Scars, she knew was not created by her clan, intricately etched the child's body. She recognized them as some sort of spell, ancient and complicated.

Just what were they trying to do?

The next day was no better for the two. The pinkette had found solstice in the couch while the child had taken her bed. (An action that confused the child dearly.) It gave her time to think, as she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't have to worry about the child escaping. The blonde would not be able to survive outside of the door for too long and if she managed to escape the grasp of her clan members, the halls were the sort that led one to wherever the clan leader wishes if she so pleased to do so. Very few can avoid her will. As for her own safety, she could manage.

Never a heavy sleeper, she heard just when strange noises came from her bedroom.

Riiiip.

It shook of whatever sleep she had started to obtain and she strained to listen to them.

"... hah." The child panted in her sleep. "N -."

A brow rose in confusion as she got up and made her way to the bedroom.

Tud.

Her pace quickened.

What she saw genuinely surprised her. Her room, once immaculately clean, was practically torn apart. She supposed she was lucky that there weren't many things to begin with, but what really took her by surprise was how all the sheets on her bed were practically ripped off. Sheets were scattered everywhere. Some were torn; others looked barely in better shape.

And, little away, the child laid the floor. Her body curled up into a tight, little ball. It was easy to tell, from her whimpers, that she was fighting off a nightmare and losing the battle.

Slowly, Signum approached to wake her, but as if sensing the other's presence the child shirked away, shivering.

"Mother."

Her eyes widened in surprise. The word she'd used was in another language, one that Signum had not heard since her childhood years fumbling with the way of the sword.

An ancient? But she barely looks older than Mistress!

Her hand went to her sword, realizing just how powerful the child actually was now. She should have cut her down right then and wash her hands of this entire thing. It was dangerous to keep her alive. Ancients were unstable, unreliable, and one of the worst enemies to face.

The child whimpered once more, and Signum's hand slacked.

It took all effort the woman had to fix the bed, carry the child back, and tuck her in.

The events repeated themselves every day for the next week and a half. Each time, Signum was unsure as to how to respond. Her doubts grew more and more as she repeated them. Whether out of pity or duty, she was beginning to forget the reason why she bothered keeping the child alive.

While the nights were always a terror, daylight hours were spent gathering gather more info about the clan the child was from. (She was a soldier, a damn good one at that, but because of her rank, because she was often sent out to kill without discrimination, information as to those who met the end of her blade was kept hidden from her, deemed unnecessary for her to think about.)

It took a while, twisting the arms of several to get her access to the deeper parts of Great Library. Its keeper was not happy about allowing her or the child inside, but they knew better to go against orders, especially when they were allowed to use their blade had the met any obstacle.

Finding the book, on the other hand, was surprisingly quick. Once the swordwoman found her way into Great Library's lower levels, the books had practically been laid out before her. Of course, her instincts were to check if this were a trap, to see if the bound books were tampered with, but everything seemed to be in order. Although, the child did not like the books that could have held answers as to her origins. Instead, there was another pile of books especially for her. To the child's displeasure, all were children's books on learning to read their language.

Signum's gaze softened as she watched the child flip one of the pages open. It must have been her mistress that left them there, twisting one of her own rules to help them. (She didn't notice how the child was struggling to read the books and focused on the ones before her.) It didn't take long for the first entry to come up.

Red, the color of life itself, was given to every one of our kind when we used our god given abilities. There was one clan though, the origin of all others, the strongest of all kinds, that kept their blood stained eyes even under normal circumstances.

They are called the Anathema.

Signum's brow knotted in confusion. How can such a supposedly powerful can get extinct (or nearly, considering the little bundle that was mimicking her actions) so easily? She flipped through the pages, finding nothing of use before switching to another.

In the beginning, there was no clan. There were only elements and the creator. The creator used all of the elements in order to create The Clan. Their powers rivaled the creator. However, their bodies were not suited for the power they were given. It drove them mad. It split them apart ... in the very literal of sense. One became two and two became four. Their power divided along with them, as did their memories and their essence.

From this, the clans we know today were born. Even among these clans there was one that retained as much power as The Clan. They say that they were the only one of The Clan that did not split as must as the others had.

Remnants of this clan are little. Their ability to procreate greatly damaged over the years. A single child in twenty years is considered rare. Due to their instability, many children and older adults do not last. Their mentality failing them far quicker than any other clan. Ancients of this clan are considered, not only dangerous, but a rarity due to this.

Rumors have it that there is a nest of them still alive, hiding from the other clans. While they had power, it was not enough to make up for the short comings of their control.

Addendum:

They say that they earned their permanently blood stained eyes due to one of their ancestors attempt to killing the creator. The intensity of the attacks burned their eyes, eternally giving them the power hungry eyes, showing how "God" had marked them, punishing them for their actions.

Signum mentally sighed as she closed the book. The answers she found were not what she was looking for. The child was doomed. The lashes of power the child had displayed were lucky not to have harmed her. Even now – the swordswoman watched the child play – she was in danger.

She saw the wisps of electricity trailing over the child's body and wondered if it hurt her. It was hard to tell. The child barely made any noises or sounds when they were awake. Acting far younger than her physical body appeared, the child responded to Signum with the strangest combination of actions, most of these resulted in the child turning bright red. Whether this was from exhaustion or embarrassment was something Signum was not sure.

Yet, there was something about it that gave her hope. Perhaps, she was young enough (blank enough) to be taught and trained to be useful.

"Child."

The blonde looked up from the (upside down) book of hers and stared at the swordswoman blankly. It was clear to see that she knew just what the other was about to say.

"Tomorrow, we will find out just what you can do."

There was a crease on her brow, but Signum knew it was not because the child was confused. She knew that it was because she was worried.

For the language Fate's speaking, originally I wanted to stick with Greek or Latin. But then I'd have to stick with it throughout the entire fic and I don't want to butcher the language. So, instead, you get to see all of Fate's ancient language spoken in italics.