Black and white by anonymousfangirl

Chapter One

Title: Black and White

Author: Anonymous Fangirl

Genre: Romance Angst

Summary: Love is a hard thing to comprehend. It hurts, it kills, it makes you cry and want to die. For some, happiness lies in love. For others, it may take a little more time. Because things aren't always as black and white as they seem.

Etc: I needed something to absorb all of these tears I have. For some reason, I'm not sure why, I started crying. An unbelievable sense of alone swept over me, and as I listened to the rain hit my window, I felt so empty.

Dedicated to all who have been hit by cupid way ward arrow. May your love sit by your side and nurse you back to health.

Prologue...

He knew the end was near. He had his dreams, and they were lovely things. Dreams of times of peace, of the time when he had searched for his mate, made plans on siring children, settling down, and pass the crown to his own son. In his dreams, his woman had long, dark hair, slightly disheveled and glowing against tanned skin, an unnatural occurrence for women from the court. She would hold out her arms to him, naked and perfect save for one white marked against her hip bone. She would comfort him as she would their children. I've been waiting for you for so long... and then all would be right. But now even his dreams had chosen to turn on him.

Now when he saw her, her eyes would sparkle with the same unheard of luster that he was so used to, but she would smile at him from someone else's arms. I waited she would whisper, just a hint of sadness in her voice as someone else licked her necked lustfully. I waited for you, but you never came... And then she would turn away.

For the first hundred years, he had managed to hate her for leaving him. His spite and his temper saw him through each passing day without her. He knew she was alive, and he also knew that she had been smart enough to place herself in the one place he couldn't reach her, to prove he could change- would change- for her. And for that reason alone, he hated her with as much passion as he loved her.

For the second century, he lived on arrogance. The bitch is probably worse off than me... He would tell himself, and await the day when she would appear to him, apologetic and ready to please him. But by the end of the second century without her, he had come to accept the fact that his woman, the woman he had chosen to sire his children, was stronger in her convictions than that and would never, ever be that pliable.

Which lead him in to the third century. He managed to survive this century by burying himself in books. He became and adamant reader, and with his photographic memory, could always pull up the information he had read within a moments notice. Problems arose near the end of this century, though. He soon found that ever book he read, her face would be plaster across the heroine's, and it became more and more difficult to get her out of his system.

By the fourth century, he was a wreck. He knew she was there, just a hundred more years in the future. He could reach her, yes, but he couldn't make her suffer. Not like he had planned to when she had first left him. No, when he saw her again, he knew he would be a blubbering fool- five hundred years of being left without the one you love could do that to a person- and he didn't want to do anything to try to stop it. No, he figured he had a better chance of winning her forgiveness if he simply told her the truth.

He couldn't make it another day if he couldn't have her by his side. Not behind him, so that he could lead her, though he would have liked to have her there for her own safety, nor on a pedestal, where she could be admired by the outside world but never touched. No, he would let her live the way she wanted to, if only she would carry him along with her.

Staring blankly out the window of his home side estate, he counted down aimlessly. Five, four, three, two. At one, he felt as if his world had been turned on its axis. Colors seemed brighter, his senses heightened and he knew that half way around the world, she had finally been born.

A tear fell down his cheek and he did nothing to wipe it off. Emotionless? Ha! If everyone he once knew, once cared for, could see him now, they would be in shock. A tear on his face? The future was a strange place indeed.

He sat next to the window for some time, a solitary figure clad only in white against the black of the night, watching with little interest as the storm outside raged. People often associated black with the devil, white with angels, but he had always seen it the other way around. Where as black absorbed everything, made things smaller and less troublesome, white repelled everything, as he had managed to do quite well over the last few centuries, and made things seem worse than they actually were. How people found comfort in the color was beyond his grasp, but e didn't mind. Not really. In his mind, nothing mattered anymore.

Only the small girl named Kagome Higurashi who had screamed her way in to this world only hours before.

How many years left? 18? A small price to pay...