Askeidevor
PROLOGUE: THE CLASH OF SWORDS

Author: Krokador
Feedback: Always welcome, just that tiny thing that tells me you read my fic. You know, "I liked this this and that, but that wasn't really good, and oh i so wanna kill that dude!" krokador@hotmail.com
Distribution: just ask me first.
Rating: somewhere close to PG-13 all along, i guess, might be a couple higher rated chapters *grin*
Disclaimer: I don't own Willow and Tara, but the rest is right from my imagination (who said twisted? lol)
Summary: We're in the middle of a long war between rebels and the high class. A mercenary named Vladawain Bagnale is engaged against the royalty, and he will meet Tara on his path, and of course, they'll stumble on Willow.

I don't know if I'll include any of the other Buffyverse character yet, I'll see if they prove useful in the storyline.

Special Thanks: To Jenny(DameSansMerci) for betaing me and correcting most of my poor syntax and grammar. To all the peeps in the chat that actually made me feel like writing again. To all the writers of the fic I,ve read, which made me feel like I was doing some kind of challenege, trying to bring Tara and Willow to life better than them (Is that even possible?).

Okay, enough blablahness, on with the fic.


Everytime's a single line, intentions are never the same, swords Clash, love grows, feelings melt, hatred burns, wars, kiss, fight, peace, love, hate, justice, pain...

In a time where no one knew just what was looking down at them, just what was leading their world, there were people struggling for their lives, and their love. The only precious things they could ever hold were their swords, their feelings. Amonsgt those struggling people were some more succesful than others in the way of the sword, but these were usually deprived of most feelings. Or so it seemed.

It all started in a battlefield in the middle of the kingdom of Sunnydale. A young man was in a fight where all odds would've been against him, had he not been himself...


The young man dodged a spear and thrust his sword through a soldier's chest. A sparkle, a blink of an eye, two more opponents were down. Vladawain Bagnale was a fierce fighter, and his blade sliced through another warrior's armor effortlessly as he kicked back another assaillant that was trying to hit him from behind. Two more of them were jumping on him, and he ripped them apart using his body energy, a wind blade that sliced more than just the two assailants. When he finally got rid of all his attackers, he looked up at the battlefield, to realize no one else was standing in the area. He, alone, had wiped out a whole army division on his own.

A wicked grin formed on his face, a wound over his left eye bleeding onto the corner of his mouth. He licked the blood and then burst into a crazy laugh, a victory laugh that was his own, as he dropped his sword to the ground and savored his own triumph. His voice echoed in the plains, as the ground imbued with blood shook slightly from his still bursting power. The tall, young and powerful man just stood there, bathing in the crimson sunset, still in his battle trance, for what seemed like... hours, until he heard a kid crying-- crying for help. He slightly frowned, his black brows furrowing over his crystal blue eyes. Someone was alive. His job wasn't over yet. His job? Vladawain took a second to think this over, before pushing the thinking back to later. No one could survive the Bagnale's wrath.

He followed the cry, and was now standing over a kid, a blond girl, with striking blue eyes, as striking, Vladawain thought, as his, but warmer. Much warmer, loving, and sad, oh so sad. He had picked up his sword, and was holding it slightly over his waist, ready to strike down. The girl, now that he looked at her closely, was maybe twelve or thirteen years old. When she had noticed him, she had grasped onto a fallen warrior's spear, that she was holding with much clumsiness, apparently willing to defend herself-- her life, despite the fact she didn't really have much hope.

"Y-You!" She spat at Vladawain, tears flowing from her eyes. Vladawain squared his jaw; as far as using his sword to kill and fight was his passion, using it to kill an innocent kid who couldn't even fight was something he... Well, he didn't know. "You kk-ki-k-kil--..." Vladawain sighed and pushed his blade on the spear, disarming the girl in one swift movement, and then, resting his blade on the ground next to her feet, he knelt down beside her. Not making any threatening moves, at all. He looked right into the girl's eyes, and found something he didn't expect to see. There was no hatred, only pain, pain and loneliness. His own face, usually showing no emotions but the killing madness or the heavy focus, switched to a pained expression. Vladawin opened his mouth,nodded his head, but was unable to say a thing. The little girl nodded as well, understanding that she didnít need to finish her sentence, that she would probably never have managed to finish anyway.

The young girl reached for Vladawain's face, and softly brushed her fingers against his wound. He closed his eyes while she did so; her touch was soothing, it was almost unnatural, like... "Magic?" He opened his eyes and stared at the suddenly fear-stricken girl for a moment. Then he dropped his sword to the ground. The clinging echoed in the life-empty battlefield. It seemed, for a moment, that time itself had stopped, as realization struck both of them, as deeply as the bottom of their own hearts. When all was said, without words, the girl jumped into Vladawain's arms, and he held her softly. The warrior in him wasn't on the surface anymore, and he somehow let himself just enjoy the moment.

Footsteps were then heard: hundreds, thousands of them. Another part of the army was coming, reinforcments. Vlad gripped his sword and stood in front of the girl, then shot a glance at her and saw tears form in the corner of her eyes again; her eyes were filled with understanding, but sadness too. His brain tried to think, his body ready to fight, but his heart going against it. If he did, the poor girl he hadn't killed himself would be killed in the battle, and what he had just found in her... well, he wasn't ready to let it go, whatever it was. He swallowed his fighter's pride and took the girl on his back, running from the battlefield before the army could notice them.

After a bit of running, they both reached the forest's opening, the girl clinging to her savior tightly. Vladawain stopped his course and looked behind him, then to his right, then, in a single leap, they were up in one of the many trees that bordered the trail. The warrior sat the girl on a branch and signaled her to stay quiet and to not make a move. A couple of travelers, or merchants, it seemed, had seen them. He quickly jumped to another tree, sheating his sword silently, but ready to fight if needed. His eyes wandered over the group, and he realized they were all wearing the royal blason. They were probably scouts of the army he had fought, heading back to their base to deliver reports. And amongst them was another kid, about twelve year old, a red-haired girl, with emerald eyes that suddenly turned towards Vladawain. But he was already hiding elsewhere: back in the tree with the girl he had saved, or spared... he still didn't know. The girl whose gaze had been on the red-head the whole time.


Continue to Askeidevor Chapter Two


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