Prologue: Brothers without Blood

Pairings: (none in this part)
Warnings: War-time violence, though nothing heavier than what you see in the series; AU
Rating: PG to PG-13 (if that)
Author: Darkwood
Archive: if you want it, let me know, otherwise - dArK

    In a war there are two sides. Therefore the correct rendition of any war is hard to encounter. To the victor go the spoils and everything of value along with it. Towards the beginning of the second century after the great revolution the hierarchy known as the Alliance ran the world. The elite group was made up of members from each of the descending heads of the royal families so that the rulers would have more than just the might of the military behind them as they issued orders and governed their respective provinces as they saw fit.

    A tradition was created to ensure the succession of the thrones, and the rulers of each country elected or chose their own representatives to sit on the high council known as Oz. Each of the Oz delegates then chose their own successors and so after two generations the nobility outranked the monarchy as well as having had superior genetic traits. The world passed in ignorance of the subtle changes behind their leadership for many years until the inbred bloodlines of the monarchs began to produce defective or otherwise unsuitable candidates for the thrones. Thus the Oz delegates, and at times their minions, filled those occupations as well.

    All passed in stasis as the kingdoms traded rulers with the ‘new breed’ of royalty until the lower, and consequently more ingenious and knowledgeable, members of the expanded Oz organization formed a new council that took steps to replace the greedy high council and restore the rightful monarchies to the world forming a separate alliance called the World Federation.

    The fighting began in BC 150 and took its tolls on the people instead of its targets. The high council were assassinated and the leader was stolen away by rebel sympathizers that did not believe in the genocide of the Oz Council and formed a separate mountain country called the Sank kingdom that was quickly recognized by its surrounding nations and even a few members of the new World Federation, thus escaping any eminent danger of razing.

    The descendants of the Oz Chairman Odin Lowe continue to rule there, the country an enforced neutral zone amidst the war torn world. BC 184 was declared to be AC, the After Council years and the people returned to their normal lives until the pacifist leader, Odin Lowe II was assassinated in his bedroom in the castle on November 26, AC 139.

    An international holiday was proclaimed and all countries except the militant Oz, so named as a memorial to the more ‘admirable’ members of that council, and a party began at sunrise that commemorated the moment the bullet had entered the body of the pacifist leader and continued until midnight when he had died.

    For years the celebration served as a dark reminder of the possibilities war could bring to the world and the successor to the throne, Charles Peacecraft the first grew into the mantle set him by the world and advocated the policies of his foster-kingdom and wife, Darlene Lowe.

    He ruled for forty-five years and produced two children that were brought up in the ways of their ancestors, to promote peace. On the night of his daughter’s third birthday in AC 184, the castle was burned to the ground and the nation of Oz declared war upon the World Federation tearing apart the lives of the youth on both sides and altering their fate impossibly.

AC 195…

    Wufei whistled and his two comrades looked up at him. He pointed to a running officer that had managed to escape. Heero and Trowa nodded in response and took off running after. The first gunshot, from Trowa’s gun, hit the man’s Achilles tendon, and he fell to the cement. Heero, ever swifter amidst the concrete jungle, was sitting on the man’s chest in seconds.

    Wufei and Trowa closed in and started drilling the man on news.

    He was dead half an hour later.

***

    Three young men brought together by a strange twist of fate that left each of them alone in the world contracted themselves into being mercenaries in the hope of sparing others their fate. Trowa Barton, Heero Yuy, and Wufei Chang had all become blood brothers and the closest thing to family they could think of during their time working together. Heero, twenty-eight years old, had been born to a woman who died after his first few breaths and spent the first six years of his life in the forest before he had first seen other children.

    The village these children lived in was average, a mining village in the ‘free-zone,’ a part of the forest undesignated militarily or nationally left to the people who overflowed from their nations. The same villages filled the forests of every nation with technology adapted to fit the wildlife and climates within. Trowa Barton was a sideline inhabitant of the village, a young man who had been adopted by the village mothers when he wandered into the area, bruised and bleeding, and was carried in by one of the warriors after scouting the disturbance of the perimeter guards.

    The boy rarely spoke, attributable to seeing his parents murder before his eyes. He had escaped through a small exit as the fire caught the killers in the plumes of smoke and the fire devoured their flesh. Heero stumbled upon the other boy while watching the other children play one day, and the two had understood each other perfectly from the beginning. When Heero returned some time later he found soldiers destroying the village and killing the people.

    Trowa stood and watched from atop the incline overlooking the sleepy little castle and Heero had shown up. The two watched the entire ordeal and then disappeared together through the trees. They then began to teach each other things.

    They would enter a town and work for money to eat or obtain a bed at an inn, and during the evening they would relate their new skills. For eight years the time passed in this manner. The nomadic young men developed tough outer shells and extinguishing all their emotions to survive. Between the two of them they procured a few firearms and two pistols. By the age of fourteen Heero had pertained such skill in shooting that he exchanged the hunting riffle he carried for the sniper riffle used by those in greater danger, and Trowa had mastered knives and began to carry a sword, though he was better with shorter blades and wore four daggers of varying lengths.

    In the eighth year they chanced upon an unfamiliar village. Heero had learned the Japanese tongue from the villages close to his territory before he met Trowa, and then he had learned Trowa’s languages of English and Spanish while teaching him Japanese, but neither boy recognized the language being spoken by these people.

    Bewildered and comprehending only fragments, the two made their way to an inn. A couple held the inn, and they appeared younger than the two warrior youths by several years. Mindful of the danger, the boys decided to press on that evening, passing the village by a league before settling into a grove and sleeping the night on their backs watching the stars.

    The following morning they were awoken by the loud report of a shotgun and anguished howls mixed with battle cries. The people of the village were approaching, being followed by warriors wearing yellow painted armor. The young man from the inn had a sword raised and was fighting with his back pressed up against his wife’s. She looked significantly worse for the wear, bleeding from wounds where armor would have protected her, but she wore none.

    The boy, however, had on light coverings and held a bladed staff that he was fighting off several attackers with. Heero and Trowa, seeing their predicament, decided to help the pair in their struggle, and took up positions. They ran towards the couple and as Trowa began to stab his way in, broadsword disregarded for the use of his knives. Heero climbed a tree and pieced together his riffle while loading the other guns and readying a set of throwing knives Trowa had given him on the last holiday.

    The young man noticed his wife’s fatigue and began to fight even harder, anger welling from deep inside him at the thought of her injuries. He was so blinded that he did not notice as the men started to separate the two of them until her cry pierced the air as one of the long swords pierced her back and she fell to her knees. Heero had already begun to take out the surrounding men, and the black haired young man went into a frenzy until he reached her side.

    “Meiran! Nataku, don’t leave me!”

    “I am not afraid to die, Wufei,” her voice was almost too faint to reach Heero’s eyes and his blue eyes widened as he heard her continue with a gurgle of blood to punctuate her entreaty, “I am afraid that you will follow before your time…” she reached a crimson hand up and touched the side of his face, “it appears that I was not Nataku after all.”

    The battle ended quickly after that, and the two youths took in the younger grief stricken boy without question. He would not leave until they had buried her and then he took her sword and placed it in his belt and ripped the left sleeve of his jacket to write words on it.

    When they left and the tears had long since dried from his onyx eyes.

***

    All in all, it had been a normal morning, and would have continued, if Heero didn’t spot the carriage of a golden-decked dignitary pass swiftly. The three pilots duck quickly and watch from the fallen trees. “Who do you think that is?” Wufei whispers to his brother.

    “Probably another one of Zechs’ officers,” Heero spits on the concrete to the side of them. The scene appeared an oxymoron, concrete trails through a dense forest, but the ruling fighters had decided it would provide better ‘cover.’

    ‘I only wish this war would end and the bases would close down, I’ve grown too cold hearted as it is and I’m working now on blind instincts. I’m worn down to the point that I’m almost broken.’

    Wufei puts a hand on his shoulder and Trowa comes and does the same. “I know,” Trowa says in a quiet tone, “but it can’t last much longer.”

    Heero nods curtly as the other boy moves to inspect the tracks but Wufei doesn’t move. “I am sure that there is still some way to continue, you were the first to begin this work and you have carried us in times of need. You should let us carry you,” Wufei says in an uncharacteristic gesture of openness towards even his ‘brother.’

    “Do not trouble yourself with me,” Heero replies, as per the usual, and takes a deep breath of air, “I took this on myself.”

    “That does not mean that you must crucify yourself over it. You are the best, but you take things too seriously,” Heero yanks his shoulder away. “There are other things to life than-”

    “Why are you doing this at all?” Heero responds angrily. “Do you not understand that we are all that remains to protect…?”

    “Do you remember who you are attempting to protect? I remember how you treated the people of the last village, and that girl. I don’t think you remember why you’re doing this.”

    “Regardless of that my mission remains clear and I will not jeopardize it to dredge up memories that I never had. I was born into this world, this life, you came willingly.”

    “Then lay down your yoke.”

    “There is still reason to carry it, Wufei. I am still a warrior, even without a home.” Heero began to walk, ‘a warrior without a home lacks a weak point. We are stronger because of that.’

***

    “How do I know that I can trust this information, Catalonia?” The platinum haired man asked his veritable twin.

    “I watched it all myself. I saw these so called ‘Pilots’ in action when they killed your prized Howard.” Zechs pales while she merely smoothes her blond locks back into the ponytail. “Yes, your little scientist is gone, my liege, what a pity,” her voice drips acid on the words.

    “Who are they?”

    “Well I just don’t know, sir, I’m not being paid to search out rascals.” She leans against his desk seriously. “I’m being paid to fight for your organization, sir.”

    “Well how much will it take for you to give me names?”

    “Forty pounds of gold, right now.”

    Anger enters Zechs’ eyes and he stares at her for a moment before motioning to his one guard in the room. “Some day you’ll pay for this.”

    “And on that day I’ll be sure to kick your headstone, Marquise.”

    The guard returns with a bag, which Zechs motions towards Catalonia. A knock sounds on the door. “Enter.”

    A tall and slim woman steps into the room. “Ah, Major Noin, how are you today?”

    “I’d like to be shown to the General’s children, if you don’t mind.”

    Dorothy grins a toothy grin at Zechs and stands. “You seem eager to see them again, Major.”

    “I prefer to accomplish my tasks as well I can, and I will need to understand their weak points in order to get them safely to General Kushrenada. So, if I may?”

    “Certainly. This young lady will lead you to the fort. You’ll find them at the Oz quarters, I think. It is about tea time.”

    “Thank you, sir.” She turns to Dorothy, “See to it that you’re at the quarters at 1700.” Dorothy nods.

    “You must know, Noin, that I am sad to see you go.”

    Noin nods stoically, while inwardly she smiles broadly. “Thank you, sir.”

    Zechs nods at her and says crisply, “Dismissed.”

    She exits the room and Dorothy smirks at her back. Zechs moves to the far side of the room. “I see you’d rather be escorting the General than of Treize’s boys, lady,” she says under her breath as the taller woman passes her.

    “I’d like for you to keep personal opinions to yourself, Miss…” Noin replies in an equally low voice.

    “Catalonia.”

    “Miss Catalonia. I am neither at liberty to speak of them, nor do I wish it.”

    The smaller girl nods with a wide grin and waits for her to leave. Noin smiles with a relieved air and heads for the barracks, hoping on to her horse and galloping off quickly.

    “Names, now.”

    “I don’t have any names, Marquise, but I can tell you what they look like.”

***

    At the side of a vat of apples stand two young men conversing quietly, the shorter, a blond haired young man, seventeen and the taller, with a rope-like braid trailing down his back between his shoulder blades, twenty-five. “Duo, Quatre!” she calls merrily.

    Duo turns slowly, slightly tanned face a mask of emptiness as he watches the approaching Major. One hand clenches in preparation, used to a history of discord with the tall young woman due to her persistent attempts at courting him for whatever reasons, and he watches disinterestedly as Quatre jogs off towards the woman in a dark purple jacket.

    “Hello, Lucrezia!” the younger brother shouts gleefully, throwing his arms around her in a hug, shorter stature forcing him to stand on his toes just to be able to place his cheek against her shoulder.

    “Nice to see the two of you, Quatre,” she replies, discarding her cloak into the hands of the groom and hugging the shorter of the blue eyed brothers in return.

    The older only responds with a nod of his head before turning back to look at the apples. As he leans forward some, one of the cats wandering aimlessly leaps to the rim of the vat and sits next to his arm. Absently, he strokes the fur on its back, some of the tension winding out of his body as his hand moves thoughtlessly.

    Quatre gives him a frown before smiling back at the Major. He reaches up to straighten one of the medals he misplaced on her jacket front, “It’s so wonderful to see you again, Miss Noin. I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

    “That’s Major Noin, Quatre, how often must I tell you that?” she replies in a playful tease. The shorter brother seems to consider it for a moment before he shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve been traversing the wild landscape. Do you two like it?”

    “I find it fascinating, but my brother Duo doesn’t seem to like it.”

    Noin turns to look at the other young man. “What? Would you have me slink around in the wilderness by myself? Not everyone likes me, Quatre.” He turns around. “You’ll have to forgive my impoliteness, Noin, I’d rather be raped by an Indian than stay here a day longer.” Duo turns and walks off.

    “What’s wrong with you, Duo?” Quatre asks himself quietly. ‘And since when were you raped?’

    ‘Indeed,’ Noin thinks to herself. “Would you like to show me around, Quatre?”

    “Of course, Lucrezia!” Noin stares at the slender retreating back and sighs wistfully. Quatre smirks. “He’ll never agree, Lucrezia, you know Duo. And if you don’t, I do.” Quatre winks playfully, “I can’t tell you why, but neither would I.”

    She sighs, “What am I going to do with you during this trip, Quatre?”

    “Look the other way and chat with the guide, I suppose. Maybe stare at Duo some.”

    “Quatre!”

    “It’s true, I know it is, I’ve seen you staring at him. He doesn’t like it, by the way.” She blushes deeply. “Face it, Miss Noin, you don’t stand a chance.”

    “Oh?” her voice is dejected but bemused.

    “No,” the blond haired young man next to her responds flatly.

    She sighs, “Well, which way?”

    “Come on,” he grabs her arm and yanks her off to one of the rooms.

***

    “What’s this, Wufei?” Trowa asks, looking at the footprints Heero just pointed out.

    “Heero?” Wufei asks with hope in his eyes that it isn’t what he thinks.

    “Footprints, one of the rogue groups passing through. I think it’s the one that Catalonia heads.” Trowa and Wufei stand, shouldering their standard riffles, and Heero checks his own two guns and large knife. “Let’s see who they’re hunting today.”

    The other two nod in agreement and they take off through the false forest into the real one just beyond the fence. At the fence, Heero takes a running leap and claws twice on the grating before slipping between a specific spot in the barbed wire, and lands neatly on the balls of his feet and springs forward; his two companions close behind him.