Disclaimer: NAMCO Tales Studio, Ltd. holds the exclusive rights to all characters and story elements appearing in the video game Tales of Symphonia. The following story has been created for entertainment purposes only, and no profit has been made by the author.

Thanks to koinekid for letting me use his disclaimer.

PLEASE READ!!!!!!!------This is a Kratos x Anna fanfic. I know this topic has probably been done to death, but I decided to do it anyway. Some things may change from the game, so don't freak out. If any of the things that happen are reminiscent of another fanfic, I did not do it on purpose. It was completely by chance. I promise.

Also, feel free to post and discuss this. Well, enjoy!

Crimson Morning

Chapter 1: The Escape

Kratos strode angrily down the halls of Welgaia, flames in his eyes. Others took one glance at him and fearfully backed against the wall. They knew not to bother Lord Kratos when he was angry.

"Lord" Kratos. He hated that title. He hated that he was a "lord" in an organization that sacrificed innocent human lives to follow a now twisted dream.

He used to believe in that dream. He remembered Mithos back then. He was a young boy, full of love, full of hope, and full of ideas. He was full of love for his sister, Martel. Martel. How beautiful was she? She possessed a timeless grace and beauty. He remembered how Yuan fell for that beauty. He remembered being talked into sneaking up on them with Mithos, and seeing them talking to each other, holding hands, kissing.

Yuan. His friend. They had always been there for each other. Always. But in recent times they had begun to float apart. Yuan always seemed to be gone on some errand for Mithos, and when he wasn't, he was reclusive, hardly ever leaving his quarters.

When the war broke out, the war between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, the whole group grieved. Three fourths of the group being half-elves, the group hated meaningless fighting, and opposed racism with all their hearts.

Mithos had always said: "I want to end the world of racism and meaningless violence." Now was the time to put their gald where their mouth was. Kratos remembered all the dank, cold dungeons. Kratos remembered all the fights against the summon spirits. He remembered the final triumphant moment when they at last required the Eternal Sword. They had done it. They ended the war by splitting the world in half. They were heroes.

Until the day that Martel was killed.

The day was bright. They were walking by an overhang, not a care in the world. Then the bandits attacked. They were more than a match for the bandits, so Kratos and his group prepared for battle with smiles on their faces, intending to give the bandits a beating, and send them on their way. They were overconfident. Kratos and Yuan went for the two swordsmen, expecting Mithos to go for the archer. He didn't. He had closed his eyes in his spell casting, and he set loose for the left swordsman, not seeing Yuan. Yuan had jumped back to avoid the fireball. That's when they heard the twang. Then silence.

Deathly silence.

Mithos opened his eyes to find his sister lying on the ground with an arrow in her breast, her blood pooling in the dirt. Kratos remembered Mithos' cry. It was utterly horrible. The cry was grief.

"No! No! Martel! No!" Mithos, screamed. He fell to her side, and held her tight, tears spilling from his eyes, a look of pure horror on his face. Kratos turned to Yuan. That same emotion was on his face, then flickered to shock, then to rage.

Gone were the thoughts of letting the bandits get away. They slaughtered the rest of the group without remorse.

Tears now mixing with the flames in his eyes, Kratos entered his simple, private chambers. They had the same pattern on the walls as the hall, as everything else in the city. Rage overtook him.

"Dammit!" Kratos screamed, and punched the wall.

Everything had fallen apart after Martel's death. Mithos used the Eternal Sword to create the current system of life. He erased people's memories, only leaving a few relics from the war. He created the "chosen" system. He killed innocent people to try to bring Martel back to life. Out of love for Mithos, and partly for the hope that it would work, he had gone along with this plan, playing a major role in it.

Now though, with 4,000 years of experience behind him, this system went against Kratos' invisible code of morals. It was not what Martel would have wanted. The whole thing defiled her memory. Kratos sank to the ground, his head in his hands. He sobbed quietly for himself, for Martel, and for the world.

Mithos had just invited him to his elaborate chambers. For an hour, Mithos ranted on his dream, Martel's resurrection, and his "glorious" plans for the future. Kratos had disagreed. He had told Mithos that this might not be the correct path. For that, Kratos was magically thrown across the room. Mithos proceeded to scream in his face until Kratos angrily left the room.

Kratos suddenly looked up from his hands. He knew what he must do. He must leave. He couldn't take it anymore, he must get away. With sudden vigor, he grabbed Flamberge, and strapped it to his belt. He then quickly looked for anything he may need. Seeing a flask of miracle gel he had bought, he picked it up and attached it to his belt. Turning to his mirror, he looked himself over.

He cut a clean figure in his white and blue clothing. He loved these clothes. They fit perfectly to his body, allowing him to move more freely. But he hated them as well, for they stood for Cruxis. The twisted organization that killed innocent people, the organization he belonged to. His clean-cut figure was offset by his unruly, seemingly spiky red hair. A maroon cruxis crystal was attached to his chest, and at his belt was his beloved sword, Flamberge. Mithos had used the eternal sword to make it for him. He had never done anything evil with this sword. Whenever he went down to watch over the chosen, he left it in his chambers and brought another, plain looking, double-edged sword.

Stepping out on his balcony, he stared at the rippling, purple edge of Derris Kharlan with contempt. These walls had kept him in since Mithos had created this place. No more. Willing his wings to him, he dived off the balcony, quickly pulled off a spinning loop and sped towards the portal that led to the Tower of Salvation. Having warped, he opened the door and sped off to the skies of Sylvarant, to freedom.

---This story is the property of Nightshade Woe. Please PM me if you want to use it for anything---