Title: One Legend, Two Destinies
Author: Grayswandir
Fandoms: Gundam Wing, Escaflowne

A/N: This is rewritten content, only the Theory/Prologue has remained the same. An informational chapter has been created on my LJ for those seeking some technical information on this story. The link is available on my profile page.

GW VoE

Chapter Two: Prelude to a Storm

1 BD, Gold the 28th Moon, the hour of Ripla (dawn)
Location: Folken's chambers, Castile de Fanel, Fanelia

The sound of shuffling feet roused Folken from his slumber. A lightly frustrated groan issued from the other half of the bed. His sleep fogged mind cleared swiftly as he recalled the events of the previous night. Van! Opening his eyes in alarm, Folken sought his brother's form, sighing in relief at the sight of him still maintaining a sleep state.

Van had shifted position as he slept, his face turned towards Folken. Van's face was scrunched up, strongly resistant to the process of waking. His hands had curled into fists, the strength they portrayed standing in contrast to the softness of the pillow they laid upon. A shiver shook his form, goose bumps lighting upon his arms. Folken noticed, for the first time, that Van had curled up in the night, obviously cold.

"Milord?" A young voice whispered.

Folken gasped, zeroing in on the chambermaid. On the sideboard, the maid had laid out a large ceramic bowl, a cleansing cloth, and a pitcher of heated water at the temporary bathing station. While the exterior of the castle had been completed, most of the interior had not been outfitted. The two brothers had agreed that the castle was not anywhere near as important as the rest of the Fanelian constituency. They had also agreed that Fanelia was in need of a newer presentation to the nations of Gaea, being referred to as a "backwards little country" throughout the Destiny War had stung both brothers. With the friendships Van had developed with Asturia and Freid and Folken's own previous high standing in the now ruined nation of Zaibach, developing the "backwards little country" into a nation of high repute would be a simple task.

"Shall I rouse him, lord?" The servant gestured lightly in Van's direction. Folken had never felt more grateful for Van's gentle demeanor. Anyone else would not receive such reverent respect.

"No." Folken sighed. "Close the shutters, and fetch another blanket. He needs rest." Silently, Folken slid out from under the bed covers as the chambermaid did as she was bade. The pre-ripla light was swiftly blocked from the room while Folken gently gathered the bed clothes. The maid departed the room in search of the desired blanket, leaving Folken to tend his brother.

Gently, Folken drew back the covers, hoping the darkened room would help encourage his brother to remain un-woken. A groan, followed by a shiver more pronounced than earlier, precipitated a hiccough. Van's eyes opened a sliver, a whimper passing his lips. The bloodless look to his eyes had not abated from the previous night.

"Shh." Folken soothed. "Go back to sleep." Folken cheered silently as Van's eyes slid shut once more. Sighing, Folken tugged gently on his brother's legs, straightening them. A moue of discomfort contorted Van's face, accompanied by the slightest of whimpers and another shiver. Desperate, Folken began whistling an old Fanelian lullaby. Panting half-sobs poured forth. "C'mon, none of that." He chided, folding the blankets up to Van's waist. The panting breaths subsided as Folken tucked the blankets around Van's legs. It has been so many cycles since I've done this.

The door clicked. "Bring it here." Folken said without turning. A heavy white ursal pelt from the northern region of Meerfrost was presented to him. Perfect! Laying the covering out, Folken unfolded it to Van's waist. A contented sigh slipped out. Carefully, Folken unfolded Van's fisted hands, dragging them even with his torso and wrapping them about Folken's own pillow. The original bed covers, followed shortly by the pelt, were laid completely out, covering Van to his shoulders. Van snuffled into the pillow, before drifting back into sleep. Satisfied, Folken turned to his morning ablutions.

"Will that be all this morning?" Kicking himself for forgetting, Folken turned to the maid. In all fairness, it had been many a cycle since he had a servant that was not a soldier or apprentice.

"You may leave." Folken acknowledged the helpful servant. She nodded and turned to go. As she opened the door, Folken stopped her. "Wait. Send two guards to the door." Knowing she would do as requested, Folken hastily completed his morning routine, certain that those bastards who thought they were in charge would tear apart the entire castle as soon as they felt Van's ear was theirs to burden. Light tapping at the door came seconds after he completed his task. A light murmuring issued from the bed. ^It's alright, Van. Go back to sleep.^ A sigh escaped as he nestled back into the bed sheets.

Silently opening and closing the door, Folken took a deep breath, closing his eyes for but a moment. Resolved to do what must be done, he opened his eyes to see two of Van's most loyal guards. Clever little minx. Folken mentally noted the need to thank the young maid.

"You sent for us, Lord Folken?" One of the guards asked.

Swallowing hard, Folken nodded harshly. "Yes. No one is to disturb these quarters. No one. Especially the advisors. Understand?" Folken stared into both guards' eyes, conveying as much as he could how important this was. He nearly sighed in relief as he saw understanding light in both faces.

"Of course, Lord Folken." The answer in unison. They both moved to the outer edges of the door frame.

"Thank you." Folken whispered as he headed off to the council chambers.

GW VoE

December 28th, AC 194
Location: L1 Colony, Dr. J's office

Dr. J scowled as negative results continually scrolled across the screen. An entire cluster with no one suitable! J impatiently tapped his fingers against the desk top. Beep! Acknowledging the computer terminal, J opened the result. No Matches Found. It practically screamed failure at the mechanical engineer. Frustrated, J stood from his chair to pace.

Delinquents: no matches.
Military hopefuls: no matches.
War orphans: no matches.
Regular orphans: no matches.
Medical John Does: no matches.
Destitute males: no matches.

J had even checked OZ's list of potentials: no matches.

There were no potentials anywhere near the quality he desired. J was loath to search for lesser material. He still had time to do this right. It was always possible that one with the right stature, the perfect specimen, could be there, waiting to be discovered. In fact it was highly likely. Knowing that his fellow scientists would already have decided on their final pilot by now meant he only had to fight OZ and the potential that the Alliance may stumble across someone of value. However unlikely that would be.

J stopped in his pacing. Yes. That's what I should do! Activating the comm system, J started to bark his orders. "Expand the search parameters! Check all colony clusters. In the event that no matches are yielded, check Earth-bound candidates."

I will find my Perfect Soldier!

Written July 24-August 9, 2012