Hi again! Here's part two, unfinished (one more chapter to go X.x). I'm hoping some C&C will help fire up the little hamster in his little wheel in my little brain. Pounding your head against writer's block can hurt.^^;;

archived at: http://www.crosswinds.net/~dilandau/nv/



** SPOILER WARNING!! **

This takes place post the events that occur in the series the Vision of Escaflowne and contains spoilers pertaining to well.. just about everybody^^;;






Because italics are sort of..nonexistent in email,
// denotes thoughts.

Chapter 9

Celena was...bored.

With all the hustle bustle surrounding her brother, Celena was included in the ceremonies only as a token appreciation to the fact that she was a Schezar. Therefore, although she'd had to learn where to stand when the procession for Van ended at the entrance of the palace (which was, unsurprisingly, right next to her brother at the end of the long line of nobles, soldiers, and gawkers), she was afterwards left to dwadle in one of the gardens with the daughters of the Asturian nobles. After a few of the girls recognized her from Allen's social gatherings, and identified her as that "strange Schezar," she was primarily left alone. Of course, some of them tried to get friendly with the Great, oh so Handsome Knight Allen Schezar's sister, but the chattering and the gossip made Celena cringe and Dilandau irritable. Neither of the responses that had popped in her head seemed very appropriate. She managed to fend them off by acting shy and quiet, and found a secluded spot where she could enjoy the scenery and discreetly listen in to the conversations.

Other than the usual talk about who had married whom and who was going to marry whom, she learned that part of the mania surrounding Fanel's visit to Asturia was an apology. Apparently the Asturian King had "mistreated" Van upon his first visit proceding the destruction of Fanelia. According to the ladies, not only had Van attacked Zaibach troops without provocation, he had courted the princess Millerna and had been rebuffed. However, Millerna had eventually re-evaluated the prospects of being married to a King (demolished country aside), and had disappeared from the palace. However, by then, Van had already by then fallen in love with some mysterious foreignor...

The girls sighed and continued elaborating on the supposed love triangle. Nevermind the fact that Millerna had often made it clear her rather scandalous attraction to Allen; this was a far more interesting tale. Of course, Dilandau knew the true circumstances surrounding Asturia's decision to mistreat Van, which did not involve romantic encounters of any sort.

Ignorant twits.

Celena grimaced. The boredom was starting to add to her agitation, and she was losing the already tenuous line between her subconscious and Dilandau's. Fortunately, she was distracted by a particular conversation.

"...and they said that King Van has no queen yet!"

"Oh! Then who's that cat-girl? I hear they're very very close."

"Bah. It would be absolutely vile if the king married a cat-girl. Could you think of the children?"

"Oh, you just want him for yourself." A chorus of giggles followed.

"It couldn't be that bad." The voice lowered to a stage whisper. "I heard he's really an Atlantean!"

"Oh that's just silly."

The same voice continued, just audible to Celena's ears. "No more silly than this other one I heard." There was the shuffle of dresses as her cohorts leaned in. "That mysterious Zaibach Captain? The really handsome one that slaughtered half our troops? I hear he was really a she."

Celena swallowed. The girls all gasped and giggled some more.

"Now that's silly."

"You're just saying that because you don't want it revealed you really were attracted to him!"

The giggling escalated. Celena's head throbbed. She had to get out of there. The urge to begin removing those meticulously designed hair styles by ripping them from their roots was becoming far too strong, and it wasn't just Dilandau suggesting the act.

The sudden happy chorus of squeals heralded another thankful distraction. The loud clanks and thundering footsteps from below the garden balcony spoke of a series of Guymelefs making their way to settle for the upcoming ceremonies.

All of them clambored over to the side to gawk at the knights, including Celena. Although Dilandau scoffed at the rustic, relatively small Guymelefs (why, even the Alseides designs were far more advanced), Celena gaped. She'd never gotten a real chance to see many before her absence, and here was a whole company of them! She even lost her desire to remain inconspicuous when Scherezade came into view.

"Allen! Allen!" she cried, waving her hands frantically, a smile blossoming on her face.

The facial plate of Scherezade whirred and flipped open. Allen threw an affectionate look at her before resuming his duties. The other girls cast threw extremely jealous looks in her direction. They began whispering behind their hands, trying to point out every fault of hers they could muster. For once, Celena didn't care. It had been a long day, and just seeing her brother made even her problems with Dilandau seem insignificant.

After a while, Scherezade had disappeared, and the girls had resumed pointing, giggling, and making flirtatious gestures at the line of knights, both in and out of Guymelefs. Celena suddenly realized that all the attention had been directed away from her. And over there, within perhaps one hundred paces, was an open, unguarded door.

How could she pass this up?


Chapter 10

// Butterfly.

// Pretty.

// Fly fly.

// Catch!

// Pretty wings. Up down up down.

// Fly away? Want to leave me?

// DEAD. EAT. No leaving now.

// Look.

// Man. I like this man. Pretty man.

// Stretch arms. Hug? Smile.

// Angry. Why so angry? Why?

// Jajuka? Going inside?

// But. Want to touch the man.

// Madoushi man is shouting.

// Smile. Smile...smile...

// Table.

// No.

// Needles! Madoushi! PAIN!

// NO!

// SCREAM.



Whisper. "Where is this?"

"Centralized headquarters."

Louder. Demanding. "Why? How did I get here?"

"You were transported here after receiving medical attention. I believe that blow to the head during the last sparring session may have jumbled your memory."

Pause. Thoughtful expression. "I see." Adjust clothing. Irritable. Upstart peon better watch himself. Visions of Crima Claws blasting through unguarded Guymelef backside. Smile. "Have they been assembled?"

Nod. "We begin training tomorrow. I assume you'll want to oversee it yourself?"

Sneer. Low, eager voice. "Of course. I want to be there to personally make sure these fools know who's their commanding officer."



// Grave. Mother.

// Sorry, mother. Sorry...

// Brother. Princess. Smile.

// Moth! Pretty.

// Fly fly.

// Catch!

// Don't fly. Don't leave me alone.

// Crush. Mash.

// Open. Dead...no...

// NO!

"Celena?"

What? Allen...? "Celena?!"

Angry. "Wha--What is this? Are you a doppelganger?!"

Look around. Unfamiliar! Panic! "Where am I? WHERE AM I?!" Scream. "JAJUKA!!"

Uncloaking Guymelef. Comforting sight. "Lord Dilandau!"

"Jajuka!" Grateful. Euphoric!

Fading Allen. "Dilandau? Wait!"



"Yo, Celena. Hey. Wake up."

Gaddes had tried snapping his fingers, clapping, and poking, for at least a minute or two. He'd found her standing in the middle of a hallway, thankfully one that few people frequented, a vapid expression sitting on her face. Just when Gaddes was about to full-out slap her (how he would explain that to Allen he wasn't certain; however, having her remain in such a state was not the better alternative), her mouth began twitching. Recalling her outcry at their last sparring session, he clamped a hand over it, just to be sure.

The shock of having his palm slap against her jaw jolted Celena from her reverie. She blinked a few times, clearing away the confusion, then began flailing her arms about wildly.

"Whoa, easy there." He released her. "I came to find you since you weren't at the garden. Van's airship is arriving and you need to go stand and look pretty." He grinned.

Celena took a few moments to sort through the haziness. She remembered walking out of the garden, turning a corner, and discovering the castle's seemingly neverending supply of decorative rooms. As she was admiring the way the daylight was streaming in through the windows, she'd felt a sharp pain in the back of her head, as if a string had snapped on the web she'd built to reign in her/his memories. Her vision had blurred...

"Are you all right?" Gaddes's frowned in concern.

"Yes," she whispered. Then, recalling her current situation, she repeated her answer, louder. "Of course! I think I must still be exhausted from yesterday." She forced out a shakey laugh. "A nap in a bumpy carriage isn't exactly restful."

"Oh?" Gaddes looked wounded. "And I thought I'd driven it so smoothly."

Celena genuinely giggled at Gaddes' morose expression. She looked up at him. Although he was smiling, concern still bent the flesh of his forehead. She drew in a shakey breath. "Gaddes," she pleaded, "if...if you see me starting to look like that again, wake me up?" Her eyes widened and her heart throbbed in panic. Should Allen, or anyone else for that matter, catch her in that state...

He frowned. His tone gained an edge, "Celena..."

"No! Please!" Desperation laced her words. Celena knew her sanity was deteriorating, but the thought that she may never see the King sent her anxiety spiralling. Dilandau's desires were easy enough to ascertain now that she was privy to his more inner thoughts; he was still hellbent on revenge, and for more reasons than just his scar. This insight was proving to be more and more the curse; for her own motivations and rememberances were buried in his. Dilandau had been the dominant consciousness for too long. Seeing Fanelia was at least a desire that they both genuinely shared, and she absolutely needed to find out why.

Gaddes sighed.  "All right, all right, can't refuse those puppy dog eyes. What's going on now, anyways?" An eyebrow arced up in curiousity.

She bit her lip. "I promise, everything will be better later." Then, in a brighter tone, "Shouldn't we get going?"

"Sure, little lady." Although he smiled back at her, he was unethused. This would be Big Secret Number Two he'd be keeping from Allen, and their close relationship had already been bruised by Big Secret Number One. He couldn't afford to do so again, for his sake and for Celena's.

Gaddes led Celena down corridors and hallways that became increasingly more populated. At every corner they turned he would look back to see whether or not she was still following. Thankfully, she was, glancing at him every so often to be sure of her path, then resuming looking at everything around her with bright-eyed wonder. Other than her pale pallor, there was a childish innocence about her that he couldn't help appreciate. It was only in her eyes that the aura fell; for within their blue depths he knew that psychopath lurked. Gaddes only hoped Van would only see the Celena that was marvelling at an exotically decorated pheasant that was rolling by her on its way to the banquet hall.

And not the one that had been determined to spill his innards onto the forest floor.



Chapter 11

The plan was to have Van's airship land at the harbor, then have a stately procession leading from there to the palace, with the King at the head and a score of Fanelian and Asturian military as the train. It was a plan to not only present the King as a vital figure of state, but also to help boost the morale of the people of a city which had taken a severe beating during the war.

The words that Fanelia had used to relate his opinion regarding the whole event were somewhat less than royal.

Celena listened with bright eyes while Millerna retold the tale. The beautiful Asturian princess folded her arms, put on an appropriately dark glare, and proceeded to mutter Van's entire dialogue word for word. She completed the recital by sticking her pouting red lips forward and putting on a sullen expression that was an no doubt an exaggeration of what the King had thrown at his advisors. Celena giggled.

"Millerna!" gasped her sister. "That was completely inappropriate!"

"Oh, Eries," sighed Millerna, waving her hand slightly in the elder's direction. "It's just a joke."

The three of them were waiting, rather impatiently, at what would be the end of the procession. "Well, to finish what I was saying," Millerna continued, "it was lucky that Allen was there to convince Van to do this. I think it's a wonderful excuse to have a festival!"

Celena couldn't help notice how Millerna gushed at the mention of her brother's name. It hadn't escaped her more asture sister's eye either. Upon their introduction, Celena had been taken aback by the stark difference between them. It began with Gaddes' gallant introduction; a gentle kiss onto a gloved hand. Eries had given him the proper headnod befitting the social difference between her and the mere airship commander, whereas Millerna had rather shamelessly offered him a coy smile and some batting eyelashes. Gaddes had grinned mischieviously back, while the elder sister glared balefully at him from one side.

Celena was introduced next, along with the regret that Sir Allen was not there to do so himself. At that time she was free to drink in the sweet peach and white ruffled ensemble that Millerna had decorated herself with (including ribbons in her hair and matching jewels), and blanch at the dark grey and pale green that Eries had dumped on. She'd even completed the nunnish look by bundling her hair into a plain white hat, leaving only her gold-adorned ears exposed. Celena, despite her short hair and relatively plain sky blue dress (although anyone looked plain next to the radiant Millerna), looked more like a princess in comparison.

Eries' lips had been pressed into a thin line. "When is Dryden returning again, Millerna?"

The younger woman frowned and turned her nose up into the air. "Oh, I don't know." Her tone held an undercurrent of regret, hidden admist a feigned annoyance. "He mentioned that he may drop in for the festival. Who knows." She thrust her wrist in front of Celena's face. "Look! Isn't it just splendid? He brought it to me from Zaibach! It's just wonderful that we can trade with them now."

"It's very nice, Miss Millerna," Celena murmured, flinching slightly. The bracelet's design integrated a complex pattern with gold overlaying silver in a manner that was unique to Zaibach's advanced artistry tools. Despite the beauty, it reminded her a bit too well of the other metalworking technology that Zaibach prided itself in: Guymelef production.

Millerna lifted a delicately shaped eyebrow at Celena's reaction. She'd been privy to Celena's secret almost immediately after it had been fatefully discovered by Allen and her sister, and she'd worried what might have become of her since settling home. Allen had spoken with her at far-spread intervals, and at those times he'd only had brief respites to hold the conversation. The words from him had been that his sister had been doing well. Despite his smile and his assurance, Millerna had read the concern in his shortened smile and lowered tone, but there had never been enough time to explore the issue further. Upon learning of the whole upcoming affair concerning Van, she wondered, and worried, about how much of Dilandau would be attending.

Celena was proving to be rather sane, although quieter than the other bimbos that had been dragged along with their influential fathers (Gaddes had quipped that he and his other fellows were having bets on how many of them it would take to drive Van crazy at the ball later. Gaddes had bet 3; Millerna bet 2). Her medical instincts had also picked up Celena's exhaustion, which she attributed to a lack of sleep. There was also something else, something that she couldn't quite put a finger on. Celena's demeanor (what little of it she had exposed) was beginning to remind her of someone, just who could it be?

A fanfare blared from a short distance away, and a chorus of hearty cheers immediately followed. Millerna threw away all her apprehension and grabbed Celena's wrist, pulling her for the gates. "They're here!" she cried. "Let's go and watch!"

Celena let out a small squeek in protest, then allowed Millerna to haul her forward. She tried to convince herself that it was the excitement that had her heart pounding against her ribs, but she couldn't deny the fear the laced her veins. They stopped at the entrance of the palace, where Allen and the rest of the royal entourage were waiting to greet the Fanelian King. Eries arrived a few moments later in a far more dignified walking manner. Millerna took the prominent position as representative of the Asturian royal family, Eries stood behind as the secondary representative, and Celena stood behind Allen as she was told. Her brother gave her an affectionate smile, which she responded to in kind.

The fanfares were becoming increasingly louder. Great cheers of greeting and celebration burst and expanded, annoucing to the smaller group where in Pallas Van was currently walking.

It all suddenly faded from Celena's view...

//
Even through the mists I can see that despised figure, his red shirt leading the way like a beacon. It would perfectly marvelous to break open the skin underneath and watch the blood of a King spread across the floor. Make him pay for the bite of his dragon...

...He wasn't even looking, the fool. Up on the skywalk the Strategos shouts. Even sweeter. Would the little boy's last thoughts be of how his brother betrayed his own country? How dear Folken let me murder its children, allow his soldiers rape its women, command our Guymelefs to burn its proud buildings to dust and powder?

I have him!

Damn bitch.

I hate you...I'll watch your rich blood pool at my feet. I'll let all the soldiers on Vione taste your woman before I roast her alive. I'll--

No...

My face...

MY FACE!
//

Celena's eyes widened, and her right hand moved shakily up to cover the right side of her jaw. Her mouth dropped slightly in astonishment.

A man riding a chestnut horse, closely followed by a combined group of proud Fanelian warriors and elegant Asturian soldiers, broke into view admist another round of fanfares and cheers. From a distance, all that could be made out was a suit of dark armour, the chest plate tan and emblazoned with a white and blue insignia. Red tassles quivered slightly in the spring breeze. Dark blue plates covered his arms and forelegs, while a brown shirt and pair of white pants engulfed the rest of him. A pitch black mop, unstyled and hectic from the wind, topped the rough combination, obscuring most of his facial features. Fanelia looked more dressed for war than for a political reception.

Celena's breath quickened.

//
...Small flying ship

...almost there...

almost have the dragon...

almost have him...

Dragon dropping from the sky, landing as the grand Guymelef. Advancing Dragonslayers. Outnumbered! Our triumph, OUR victory.

Slaughter.

Not him. Us. US!

They're dying, crying, begging for mercy, for help!

Chesta! Gatti! Viole!

..no..NO..

Help them HELP ME alone alone no one else he's

THERE he wants ME

he'll violate me he's coming COMING

he's stopped. he's screaming...

...no no no GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY

HE'S HERE AGAIN!

HE'LL DESTROY ME!
//

Eries' deceptively calm eyes followed Celena's hand from her side to her cheek, then fixed upon her face as the color drained. To the unknowning observer it seemed as if she was merely staring in childish wonder at the approaching King and his followers, but Eries knew better. Her frown deepened. She looked up at Allen. He was ignorant of the turmoil beside him, eyes focused on his approaching friend. She turned, gestured slightly at a palace guard and whispered in his ear.

Van hopped off his horse at the foot of the palace entrance admist the rapidly decrescendoing cries of the Asturian populace. He ascended the steps at a moderate pace, one hand on the sword at his side.

// Kill him first...

Allen took a few steps down to greet him, their hands clasped in greeting. A smile of delighted recognition broke on the two men's faces. The people once again bellowed out their appreciation, for two of the heroes of the War of Destiny were now face to face in front of them; the Knight and the Wayward King, like some fanciful picture from a folktale. Their personal words of greeting were lost among the cheers.

// ...before he kills YOU.

"Stop it," Celena commanded herself, her voice lost among the cacophony. She forced her hand down from her face and back to its proper position at her side. Her eyelids smashed shut with the effort of pushing Dilandau down back into the recesses of her subconscious.

Admist the quieting clamor, Millerna managed to cry out the proper greeting to the royal visitor. "King Van Slanzar de Fanel! As representative of the Asturian royal family, I, Princess Millera Sara Aston, welcome you to our country."

"Thank you," came the short, gruff answer.

"Ah, Van!" Allen exclaimed. The soft slide of her brother's hand on her back jolted Celena out of her reverie, causing her to stumble forward. She stared at the ground, the blood rushing to her face in embarressment.

"This is my sister, Celena." Allen shot Van a warning look. He'd warned him ahead of time that they'd been trying to hide Celena's alterego, as well as the decreasing stability of her mental state, but he was uncertain about how Van would react to her in person.

Celena swallowed, thrust aside all apprehension, and shot her head up to gaze at the man before her. She gasped.

Van stood before her not as a king, but as a battle-hardened soldier, one hand hovering naturally over his sword-hilt. He was slightly taller than she was, but still not quite to her brother's height, and the frame underneath the worn armour was beginning to show hints of broadening beyond the boyish, lanky young body. A simple blush teardrop pendant, tapering softly at the bottom in gold, hung from his neck, clashing with the sharp edges to the Fanelian insignia on his chest.

Despite the oddity, it was Van's eyes that held her. They were piercing with a combination of emotions that battered at both of the personalities swirling within her. He hated Dilandau, the signs hidden in the stiff setting of his frown and the twitch of the fingers over his sword-hilt. The urge to respond to his unspoken desire to destroy rushed the adrenaline into her veins. Even so, another emotion held her at bay, tearing through Dilandau's desire to thrust himself at the King and throttle him with his bare hands.

Love.

It was bitter, flavoured with angst, despair, and loss. From the bottom of their souls it came, even though they understood the true objects of their affections were lost to them, perhaps forever.

Through the terror and the confusion, Celena responded the only way she could.

She ran.



Chapter 12

Astonished, Allen watched his sister flee. She plowed through two men carrying flags in honour of Asturia and Fanelia before disappearing into the castle. He began to doubt his decision to allow Celena to accompany him, damning himself for ignoring his misgivings. He began an apology, and was cut short by Millerna's hand on his arm. She was staring pointedly at his friend.

Van was staring beyond the flag bearers (who had resumed their dignified positions) into the the grand portal that had swallowed the woman that had once commanded the most elite of the Zaibach forces. Allen knew an infatuated expression when he saw one, although it was baffling why Van would be directing such a look towards not only someone he barely knew, but someone whom he had every reason to despise. Perhaps Merle would know the answer, if someone could persuade her to reveal her thoughts without giving her the impression that they were trying to defame her childhood friend and love.

"King Fanelia," Millerna said gently, "maybe we should escort you to your room?"

"Oh." With great effort, Van tore his gaze away from the door and looked up at the princess. "Right."

While the Asturian and Fanelian guards saluted and dispersed, along with the commoners, to ecstatically take part of the festivities, the royal entourage headed for the guest quarters. Allen exchanged baffled, worried looks with Millerna.

"I've taken care of it. Please don't worry," Eries whispered quietly in Allen's ear. He raised an eyebrow at Eries' presumptuous act, but to question a royal family member in full view of the public eye was unbefitting a mere Royal Guardman, no matter how heroic.

While Van's face began to harden over with the stoic mask required of his station, Millerna began to fill the King's ears with this, that, and everything about the upcoming festivities. She continued prattling on like a little girl as they strode into the palace, distracting anyone that might have been dwelling on the oddities of the last few moments. The fact that she could act nonchalant in the midst of Celena's abrupt departure was an unheard reminder that what had happened had not been seen.

Allen stole glances at Van while they travelled the corridors. His outward appearance remained dutifully as it should, but his eyes were glazed. He nodded appropriately, responded functionally, but his thoughts were clearly not on Millerna's current discription of the exquisite ballroom that had been constructed to not only entertain dignitaries, but to house prized Guymelefs as well. A frown deepened on his handsome face.

// Van, my friend. I hope you aren't making the same mistake as I did.



Celena ran mindlessly through the twists and turns of the palace, feuled by fear. The delightful porcelains and color wall hangings that had so fascinated her before fused into a tearful blur. She had care for neither human or object, and fleetingly she wondered how many maids she'd shoved or pots she'd broken. Eventually, the bright, populated environment gave way to gray and black. She tripped on a hard stair, the back of her gown tearing, but this was only a momentary delay. On she continued, her heart slamming against her ribs, begging her to stop and at least catch a decent breath. But she couldn't, she had to get away. She couldn't face those eyes again.

At the top of the staircase her body finally won the battle, collapsing itself onto the cold, stone floor. Violent sobs wracked her thin frame. Overwhelming her was a profound sense of misery and loss, the source of which was barely identifiable.

"Folken," she whispered, the name fleeing from the depths of her soul to escape from her lips. To Celena, the name was a frustrating mystery. To Dilandau, the man was Strategos to the Zaibach empire, intelligent and respectable, but entirely too wrapped up in meandering with scientific garbage to be a proper soldier. Not to mention the different, loathsome individuals who were too often seen in his company. For instance, that disgusting shape-shifter he'd had to deal with personally.

"Now that thing was even more disgusting than you are."

Celena scrambled to her feet and stumbled out into the open. A short glance around told her that somehow she'd ended up on the balcony of one of the castle towers. The sun was just beginning to make its descent into the hillsides, painting the sky with brilliant red and orange hues. Dilandau looked up wistfully at the fiery color array. "Ah," he murmured, an eager smile stretching his lips, "that reminds me of things I wish I were doing right now. Don't you agree?"

Panting, Celena leaned against a pillar, exhaustion causing her legs to quiver uncontrollably. "No, I don't."

He continued to gaze at the sky. "I see. Why, that would explain why you didn't crack open that lovesick shit's head on the ground like he deserved." Dilandau's gleaming red eyes and feral smile widened even more. "Why, it would have been perfect to see his brains oozing onto the parapet in front of all the little soldiers and all his little friends." His voice lowered to an eager whisper. "My heart pounds just with the thought of it!"

Through his shrieking cackle, Celena shouted, "I won't do it! You can't make me!"

Dilandau whirled on her, suddenly furious. "Why? Because you think you LOVE him?" He gripped her by the shoulders and shoved her hard against a pillar. "Understand THIS. I hate him! HATE HIM!"

She stared at him, barely breathing, too frightened to move. He leaned in close, peering malevolently into her wide, blue eyes. "But you think you love Folken, don't you? I wonder why. What sort of revolting trysts did you two have behind my back?"

At that, Celena became angry. No matter how transparent her memories were, the emotions that had been felt were still prevalent. How dare he stain the memory of the man she'd loved! She wriggled one arm out of his grip and did the unthinkable.

The sound of her hand against his cheek was satisfying, and for a moment she felt triumphant. They both stood still, frozen in the aftermath of the motion. Dilandau's head slowly twisted its way back towards her direction. Before then, she didn't think a look so insanely furious could exist on a human face.

"How. Dare. You."

"I'm sorry?" she whispered weakly. She struggled, trying to do everything in her power to free her remaining arm, but the leather encased hand around her wrist had tightened to the point where blood could no longer flow. The Dragonslayer Commander's free hand slowly pulled backwards, the fingers wrapping into a fist. Celena threw her free arm up to protect herself, screaming in pain and desperation.

Surprisingly, Dilandau released her and put his hands over his ears. His face took on a remarkably comical, worried expression, and his knees knocked together. "Aiii! Stop it! What did I do?"

Celena gaped at his suddenly high-pitched voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head a few times. When she looked again, Dilandau had disappeared. A cat-girl, just barely coming into womanhood, was staring at her curiously.

"Allen's sister, right?" the girl quipped. Her paw-like hands were now folded behind her back and her nose was quivering quizzically in Celena's direction. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, rubbing her bruised wrist. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

The cat-girl apparently had little sense of subtlety; her narrowed eyes and o-shaped mouth were blatant signs that she did not believe Celena's statement.

"Riiiight. Who were you talking to then?"

"Me?" Celena pointed to herself and attempted to look innocent. "Oh, no one! Just, you know, remembering lines from my favourite, uhm, play." And if you buy that, I have a flying fortress to sell you.

"I seeee." Boy, Allen's sister is wierd! And she smells funny. Like Guymelefs and fear and flowers all at the same time. "Well, Princess Eries' sent me to get you. She said that you got lost."

"Thank you, Miss."

"It's Merle." She smirked mischeviously. "Lady Merle! Don't forget the 'Lady' part."

Celena mustered up all her remaining pride and stared the impudent beast woman down. Dilandau whispered softly in her ear, echoing aloud her inner thoughts. "What an obnoxious thing. I really should teach her a lesson. Perhaps dangle her by her tail over the balcony wall. What do you say?"

A mixture of frustration, fright, and irritation mingled on Celena's face. Merle's ears perked up at the strange expression. "Eh? Did you eat something funny?" She wandered closer to get a closer olfactory perception.

"Hey! Stop that! It tickles!"

"Ew." Merle pinched her own nose and waved a paw in front of it. "You reek! Did you even think to bathe this morning?"

"Of course I did!"

The cat-girl bent at the waist to get a closer inspection of Celena's dress. "Everthing's wrinkly and ripped. I bet you were running."

Celena cringed. "So?"

"Oh no!" Merle gasped and wrung her hands. "Are you going to start having visions?" she wailed. "And saying wierd things? And playing with funny looking cards?"

Celena was absolutely baffled. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing," Merle mewed. "Let's go! I have to take you to your room so you can get clean and look somewhat decent. Don't get lost again," she added under her breath.

Celena followed the kitten down the tower stairs and through the maze of extravagent royal decor. Neither of them spoke during the journey, although there was significant time to spark a conversation, due to the troubled plays of their own thoughts. Celena was preoccupied with keeping Dilandau at bay. Whispering taunts promising violent thrills were starting to become tempting, but the strength that had kept her consciousness alive throughout the years held him back. Barely.

Merle's hackles were rising steadily. The guardsman had illustrated Eries' desire that Merle not mention Van's name when fetching Allen's sister, as well as a brief necessary description, but there were some very important other details that she felt had been left out.

That ugly short hair. That ditzy, clueless demeanor. That rude manner! Why, if it wasn't for the fact that she looked like Allen, she might as well be escorting Hitomi!


Chapter 13

The ballroom for the occassion had been constructed with such delicious skill that nobles felt it necessary to point out the fact to the Princesses upon the beginning of every conversation. Even after the twentieth similar remark, the two sisters continued to agree that the architect they'd commissioned had truly done a wonderful job.

From the main entrance, one could sample practically all the sights that

were to beheld. A high, windowed ceiling let in both light from the sun and the pair of moons, lending a magical aura at night to a room moderately lit by slender, golden candlebras. The white alabaster that arced down from the ceiling met a small strip of simple plaster border, from which dropped walls decorated at precise intervals with a combination of both new and old tapestries. Emanating from these silk paintings were the spirits of men and women from vital moments in Asturian history; the oldest depicting the first King stabbing the ground that would later house the royal palace, the newest of Alliance and Zaibach Guymelefs and soldiers standing in friendship and triumph while a white dragon flew overhead.

Van stared at that one the longest.

Between the tapestries alternated unopened, high crystal windows and opened windowed doors. Noblemen and women of all the Allied countries (which now included a few black-cloaked Madoushi) mingled amongst magnificent marble pillars that swirled with subtle blues and greens. Their expensive shoes walked upon polished stone floors, some of which was covered with rugs exotically sewn with patterns of dragons, a gift of the young Duke of Fried to his friends and family. On the far end, solemnly watching over the festivities, their polished armour and swords glinting slightly in the pale candlelight, were selected Guymelefs from each Allied country. Noticeably empty was the middle throne that had been reserved for Fanelia's royal instrument, Escaflowne. Even though they had suggested replacing the dormant Guymelef with one from the country's samurai legions, the King had refused, quietly adding that his brother would have preferred the vacancy.

Flanking the empty space were the only other Guymelefs that could have rivaled Escaflowne in size. On the right sat Scherezade, the golden insignia on its blue cloak gleaming from the shadows. On the left sat a Zaibach Oreades model, officer class, made in deep blue and gray metals.

Celena's breath caught in her throat when she saw the hulking machination looming down at her. Her hands shook, vino dribbling onto her knuckles. If only they had been thoughtful enough to provide one in his personal reds...

She forced herself out of Dilandau's musings, spinning away from the looming reminder of her (his) past, only to spill the remainder of her drink onto a black cloak. The man turned to catch her, grabbing the glass before it could shatter upon the stones.

"Are you all right, miss?"

At the polite query, Celena looked up. Dread filled her heart at the familiar sight of the dark clasps and overlays that marked a Zaibach Madoushi from the rest of the crowd. The man was middle aged, of a slight build, and clearly had been handsome at one point. However, stress had etched fine lines around his eyes and mouth, and a pair of thin spectacles aged him even further. Long brown hair was neatfully tied back, some of which stubbornly sprouted out at the top, the remainder spilling down one shoulder. Her mind's eye brightened the color of his hair, removed the glasses and the creases, deepened the voice...

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Were you admiring the craftmanship?" The Madoushi looked up wistfully at the Oreades. "I admit, we really don't need such symbols of war anymore, although sometimes it serves as quite the reminder. Doesn't it, young lady?" He turned, only to find an empty space. Confused, he swiftly scanned the immediate crowd, only to see her silvery mop retreating towards one of the doorways.

"It's her, isn't it?"

He turned to his female companion. Despite the festivities, and his urging, she'd refused to put on more tasteful attire and instead remained in her Guymelef pilot's uniform. He patted her shoulder, mindful of the spike that jutted out from the shoulderpad. "Yes, my dear. We will need to watch her carefully."

The tall woman nodded, looking through the thick crowd of noblemen and royalty at Celena's retreating form. "This is dangerous. I should have been allowed my sword."

"With the bond between these countries as shakey as it is?" He chuckled. "No, if he is truly still a danger, I have taken my own precautions."

Van's eyes had followed Celena much of the night, in between being introduced to a few of the rather comely daughters of his peers. After the third girl (some painted second daughter of a portly Egzardian politician trying to weed his way into international circles), he muttered something halfway polite and began shoving his way through the crowd.

(In a far corner, Gaddes whispered a small cry out triumph, and a crew of gentlemen who looked distinctly uncomfortable admist the refinery handed him their bet money.)

Allen watched Van from the middle of the room. Surrounded by fawning dignitaries, their proposals and praises, he was unable to do anything other than smile and nod where he stood. The Asturian princesses, noticing his distress and their guest's sudden disappearance, were likewise trapped. All three silently cursed both their honour and their luck.

Van ignored the gibbering protests of the offended Egzardian and started shoving his way through the crowd. A few moved out of his way instantly, recognizing the face of the Fanelian king. Others had to be prompted by their fellows or pushed aside. These men and women turned their noses instantly at the ragged looking boy. In his unwillingness to decorate himself in a "kingly" manner (amongst all manner of objections from his friends and advisors), Van had simply worn what was comfortable to him; a sleeveless red tunic laced at the top, his pale slacks, leather boots, and the teardrop pendant.

His heart pounded. It had been little over a year since he'd watched Hitomi disappear into the column of light. Not a day had gone by since that he hadn't thought of her. Once in a while he thought he could see her standing with him in his personal chambers. Sometimes she was dressed in Millerna's gown, bringing back that one awkward moment that she had taken his breath away, sometimes she was in that strange short pleated skirt and jacket that she often preferred. He would tell her everything; how Fanelia was being recontructed, how Merle was growing, the troubles with his new responsibilities, how he missed her, how he wished he could touch her, how he wish that he could have done what was right more often while they had been together...

Her eyes would gaze at him lovingly, and she would nod sympathetically. When he would speak of that which could have been, she would become sad and turn away. He would reach out to gather her into his arms, to comfort her, to meet his lips on hers, and the apparition would disappear, leaving him only to his empty room of stone and wood. Merle would always be there afterwards, her soft arms wrapped around his body tightly while the tears quietly fell. Only she knew of these late night moments, when the legendary King who'd rebuilt his country from ashes and rubble gave in to his lonliness and regret.

Yet, now, here she was, if not in flesh then at least in spirit. They'd met only briefly, but it had been enough. Inside the body that had once housed a great enemy lay the same strength, warmth, and charisma that characterized the woman he yearned for, he was sure of it! Even more surprising than his conviction was that the look he'd given her, full of both loathing and longing, had been returned.

Van clenched his fists and continued pushing his way through the seemingly endless throng of perfumed emissaries. He had to speak with her, if only to hear the malicious tones that had to be in her voice, reflecting the soulless consciousness that lay within. Then he could deny the lump in his throat, and the ache in his heart.

There would be no way he would let himself love Dilandau Albatou.


*****

Another chapter's supposed to be attached >.< C&C very appreciated! Thanks!

- Kus Kus
http://anime.at/kuskus


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