Panpolemos (Global War)

"Panpolemos" (Global War)

Author's warnings: This is a post-Hades fic, starting ten years after the Holy
War in which Seiya and the Gold Saints died and bases on both the manga and the anime.
It's pretty neutral so far, but it will contain yaoi (though het will be there as well),
so hit the back button if you don't know what that is or if you don't like it. Other
than that, please just forgive any mistakes in grammar, English is not my mother language.
On the other hand, please do not hesitate to point out any mistakes concerning
timeline / characters / canon facts / etc.
Thanks a lot to all who take the time to read this.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be called Athena!

Chapter 2. Crimson Omens in the Sky

Kirai observed the laboratory in the dim light of the candles. It seemed like ages
had gone by since last time he'd heard the sound of a hammer or a bistoury coming from
the place. When his brother died, Kirai rightfully inherited all his possessions,
including the tower in Jamir and the laboratory within it, but though he could easily
exercise his brother's art, he found he didn't care for it. After all, there was only
one cloth left to repair, and he didn't really want it to be repaired. Even if Shiryu,
Hyoga or Shun gave the necessary blood to do it. Repairing it would mean allowing
someone else to aspire to it, and it simply felt wrong... Nobody, nobody should wear
the Pegasus cloth but Seiya. Seiya, however, was gone...

Kirai turned to the window, and he could almost see his friend there, pacbackback
and forth as if hell-bent on carving a path into the stone floor, ranting that Shiryu
needed his help and that he couldn't wait a whole month for Mu to come back. Ah, there
were so many memories to choose from, besides that one...

"Kiki, take the Libra Cloth with you, take it to the others" the Pegasus Saint had
said, during the battle under the sea. It was the first time he had received such a
responsibility.

Yet Kirai remembered how much faith there was in Seiya's eyes as he spoke those words.
He had been the only one the treat him without the contempt usually reserved for children.
No, he wasn't going to repair the Pegasus cloth. There wasn't anyone worthy of wearing it
anymore, nor there would ever be. He started blowing out the candles, one by one,
whispering the words of an ancient prayer, one older than Christ, Athena or Buddha.
A prayer of peace, for himself and his loved ones. When the low chant shedshed, he blew
out the last candle.

"Goodnight, big brother Mu. Goodnight, Seiya" he whispered.

When he reached his chamber, the same he had occupied since childhood, he stared at
the cold bed awaiting him and suddenly felt he didn't belong there at all. The familiar
landscape of Jamir at night, stretching towards infinity out of the arched window,
became alien and hostile in his eyes. Almost as a defence mechanism, his mind wandered
back to the surviving saints. The last he had seen was Shiryu, at Shun Rei's funeral,
but he hadn't even talked to him. Probably lost in his own grief and fooled by the long
years that had kept them apart and changed Kirai's body so evidently, hisend end had not
recognized him.

The young man looked at his reflection in the mirror on the far end of the room. He was
slightly taller than Mu had been and his hair, though fiery red as always, had grown and
reached down his back in long wavy locks. He teleported in front of the mirror to study
himself from close. His face had lost the juvenile roundness of his childhood years, and
though his eyes were still the same blue, they no longer looked quite as big. Kirai
sighed, trying to remember what time of the year it was... ah, yes, late spring. He had
turned eighteen a month before, more or less. Since Mu had died, he no longer bothered
with things like birthdays. What would be the point? If it weren't for the evident changes
in his body, Kirai would have sworn time stopped to ten years before.

Still there he was, an adult almost, with little to do in his hermitage except watch
dull, useless days pass him by. Shaina had sent a letter for him to the nearest village,
about two yeaeforefore, hoping that it would reach him. It had. He smiled indulgently,
remembering the silver saint's proposal:

"Come back to Athens, wear the Aries Cloth, help us rebuild the magnificence of
Sanctuary".

Saint, quite the contrary, but it would just be pointless. No matter his power or the
cloth he wore, he'd never be able to replace Mu. Quiet, wise, gentle, righteous Mu. And
no matter how splendidly the temples were rebuilt, the spirit that pervaded the old
Sanctuary was gone. The heroes were dead. Or at least most of them were.

Yet now it felt wrong that he had dismissed that letter so quickly. He would not,
could not be the next guardian of the First House, but maybe there was still something
he could do. He didn't know what, but Athena would guide him. Maybe she had still a use
for the child that ten years before had spent hours holding his own shirt over her head
to shield her from the rain as she laid at the foot of the stairs that had divided death
from life. The stairs of the Great Sanctuary, where his heart had chosen to serve the
Goddess with his life or his death. Maybe he could still be useful. And with that simple
thought he was gone, and the cold Himalayan winds swept through an empty house.

Hilda Polaris woke from a fitful sleep with a barely suppressed scream of anguish.
She could still see the images from her nightmare, as if they had been branded by fire
into her retinas. Siegfried had been looking at her with a look of sufferance on his
handsome face, and though his lips moved she hadn't been able to hear what he was saying.
And his beloved features somehow blended into those of Hagen, Shido, Alberich, and all
the others that had died because of her weakness. The Asgard Queen's throat erupted into
a low wof mof mourning. Even after all those years, she could not forgive herself. She
had been the downfall of the champions of Asgard, the worthiest men of the North, the
heroes sworn to protect the ice kingdom and the will of their god Odin. She wondered how
the deity could still let her pray to him, or even allowed her to live at all.

In the cold silence of the palace's night she wandered aimlessly for a long time,
uncaring of the cruel chill of the stone floor under her bare feet, until she came to
her sister Freya's door. Slipping in the room quietly, the queen beheld the young woman
toss and turn much like she had, calling out softly to her lost Hagen, pulling on her
golden hair in anguish and pain even as she slept.

It was unbear to to watch her suffer like that. Hilda felt as if she'd done something
neither man nor god would ever be able to fully forgive. Maybe she had to reconsider,
maybe Odin had let her live for no other reason than force her to assess the damage she
had done to everyone around her. Ten years had gone by, and both her and Freya were still
not free of the shadows of the past. Nor would they ever be, she knew as much.

Finally resolving that she couldn't stand to watch her suffer like that anymore, Hilda
moved her hand to gently shake Freya out of her nightmares. The princess' aqua green eyes
opened slowly, as if she were reluctant to leave her dreamscape, as fearful as it might be.

"Hilda..."

"You were having a nightmare, Freya" she explained quietly.

Her sisstarstared at her for a long moment, as if uncomprehending, then she shook her
head.

"No, it wasn't a nightmare" the princess said after a while. "Hagen was trying to tell
me something, but I couldn't hear him."

Hilda was taken aback by the peculiar similarity between her sister's dream and her own.
Her royal instinct of protection kicked in. Could the God Odin himself be sending them
these dreams, in the guise of loved ones, trying to tell them something? And if that were
the case, why were they unable to grasp the message? And, even as her mind was occupied
trying explain what had to be more than mere coincidence, she suddenly realized that more
was amiss. The room was pervaded by an uncanny light.

She rushed to the window, pulling the curtains to see outside into the night. Her heart
stopped cold in her chest. A great red aurora could be seen covering the sky like a mantle,
but it was not of the usual magenta red, bright and cheerful like spring flowers. The
color of this aurora was crimson, like freshly spilt blood. The statue of the God, bathed
in that unholy light, looked as if ready to take life any moment.

"An omen" whispered Freya, now standing at her side and watching the bloody aurora
unfold in the night sky, obscuring even the stars.

Yes, an omen, a sinister one announcing that something terrible would soon happen.
What would they do, without their warriors to defend the peace that had cost so much ten
years before?

The Queen of Asgard felt a new determination forming in her heart. For the beautiful
sister that stood at her side, for the memory of those who had died, for the future of
those who remained, she had to be strong. Whatever was coming, she could face it. The
statue of Odin, strong and unyielding against the cruel winds of the North, seeme
s
smile in approval.

It was very well into the night when Sorrento decided he had practiced his flute long
enough and that maybe it was time to get some sleep. His body guided him automatically
through his evening routine, then he slipped into bed and turned off the lights. Minutes
ticked away with excruciating slowness as he laid there, with his eyes wide open, his
thoughts flying back to the encounter of the previous month.

Probably out of instinct, Julian had always avoided any contact with the Kido
Foundation, but the arrangements to build a new orphanage and an annexed school in Tokyo
had brought the Solo Enterprises to join efforts with that great organization. A meeting
between Julian and the young caretaker of the Kido Estate had been the only way to
consolidate the agreement.

The once marine general had been more than a little surprised to see the Andromeda
Saint at that meeting. When the former incarnation of Poseidon had excused himself for
a phone call, their topic of conversation had inevitably shifted to the facts of ten
years before. Shun had looked surprised and almost disappointed to learn about Julian's
amnesia, and a part of Sorrento could relate to that. He had remained to his former king's
side, providing support both practical and emotional whenever the man had needed it.
In fact, they had become close friends over the years, and though such a friendship should
undoubtedly be cherished, it still somehow felt as less than what it should.

During the reminiscing with the saint of Athena, it had been his turn to be surprised
when hearing that not only Sea Dragon Kanon had survived the destruction of the underwater
citadel, but had also atoned for the evil he had done, fighting alongside the other saints
and giving his life in the war against Hades.

Sorrento vividly recalled his last encounter with his ex commander. His mouth filled
with the bitter taste of the rage he had felt back then. He had never approved of Kanon's
harsh methods, and had always found his intelligence and cunning to be more a danger than
an asset, even when they were still a team. Still, he had respected the North Atlantic
general's great strength and ability to strive towards any goal he set his mind to with
almost limitless energy. It had been such a disappointment to learn that to him everyone,
including his fellow generals, were nothing but tools to attain a foolish dream of grandeur. Even Poseidon had been manoeuvred for a madman's ends.

However, Sorrento found that deep inside he was pleased by Kanon's redemption. A part
of him almost wished that the price for it hadn'en ten the warrior's life. He could have
used exchanging a word or two with his former commander now.

After all, Sorrento himself was no innocent, and if Kanon had found a way to gain not
only forgiveness, but also the affection that was evident in Shun's eyes as he spoke about
him, then maybe there was hope for him as well. Maybe one day the sins he had committed in
a misguided god's name would be redeemed.

It would have helped to have someone to share that burden, but Julian didn't remember.
How would he feel, knowing that he had been the cause of the sufferance he so sought to
alleviate? No, it was best for his sanity if he didn't remember at all.

Still, Sorrento wished he could hear Poseidon's voice once more, telling him what to
do with himself at least. He had spent ten years playing his flute in orphanages and
charity concerts, but would that be enough? If the god he had served so devotedly told
him so he could believe it, even if it seemed so insignificant when compared to the way
Sea Dragon Kanon had paid for his crimes.

However, Sorrento knew that the guidance he sought from his god was just wishful
thinking. Poseidon slept the dreamless sleep the seal of Athena had imposed on him, and
though his spirit had briefly awakened from slumber to aid to his former adversary
during the war with Hades, it was impossible to think that he could break the force of
the goddess' will without outside help, and the former marine general dared not take the
risk.

Realizing that sleep would not come to him that night, Siren Sorrento rose from his
bed, discarded his silken nightwear in favor of a casual attire and, barefoot, headed for
the beach near the villa. To his surprise, Julian was standing on the shore, his long hair
swept by the wind that came from the ocean. When the man turned around to face him,
Sorrento fully understood the meaning of the words "be careful what you wish for".
Julian looked at him with the unreadable eyes of the deity. The marine general felt his
knees bending and lowering to the ground almost as if they possessed a mind of their own.
Over the waters, in the distance, a red moon bathed King Poseidon and Siren Sorrento in
its uncanny light.

Author's note: Thanks to all the people who took the time to review, even if they
had to take the trouble to sign in to do it! I fixed the settings and now I'm accepting
anonymous reviews as well! Eh, sorry about the vague summary, and about the slow progress
of the story, but I plan for this to be kinda long, I hope I can make it worth your while!
Forgive me if I keep mysterious, and for the cliff-hanger sort of ending... I'll try to
update soon! ^^; Oh, in case it wasn't very clear, Kirai is none other than Kiki. I wanted
to give him a name that wouldn't sound quite as childish... since his character has so
much potential! So I pretended that Kiki was a sort of endearment for his rnamename,
Kirai, used by Mu and the other saints when he was still a kid. I'm sorry if this confused
or annoyed anyone!