Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter One: Invitation
The air was dry and warm. It smelled of spring, of fresh rain and new grass. She could feel it, even within the confines of the city. It struggled against the smog and filth. For a while she was able to forget the bustling crowd far below--the rumble of car engines, the wordless murmurs of hundreds of wandering people.
At long last Hitomi sighed, taking her elbows off of the roof's railing. Though classes had ended, track practice would begin soon. Her love of the sport had merely increased over the past three years, and yet she often escaped to this place on the roof before practice. It was a place of calm, where she could set all her thoughts into the correct space. She was beginning to come to this place more frequently.
"Hitomi?"
She turned, and gave her friend a confident smile. "I'm fine, Mariko. Let's go to practice."
---
Van stepped back from the balcony with a sigh. "She's doing all right," he murmured to the sky, fitting a soft smile onto his lips. "She'll be all right. That's what matters."
Merle smiled at him sadly. "Uh-huh."
"I guess everyone's waiting for me."
"Uh-huh."
Van and Merle returned to the interior of the castle together. The court waited patiently for him to take his seat on the throne, as they were by now used to these short recesses. They knew that he needed them. At a young age Van had become an honorable, capable king, returning Fanelia nearly to its previous state. And though his companion Merle was the only one who could claim to understand him, they respected his need for privacy.
"Your Majesty," one of his advisors began once everyone had settled, "the aqueducts on the northern border have been completed and are functioning properly."
Van nodded in approval. "Good. And what about the south? The palisades?"
"Also completed. The city's nearly on its feet, thanks to you, Sire."
He acknowledged this praise only briefly. "And to the workers, of course. What else?"
Another advisor stepped forward. "As requested, an invitation was sent out to Asturia. They have yet to respond."
"Thank you." The king smiled nostalgically. It will be good to see him again. He settled into his throne, listening attentively as the daily reports continued.
---
Celena strode confidently into the center of the open field. Her left hand curled about the scabbard she held until her knuckles whitened. Once she'd reached her intended position, her grip loosened. Several deep breaths calmed and relaxed the rest of her muscles. She took only a moment to tie back her long, silver-blond hair away from her face. Slowly, she drew her sword. The soft hiss of the metal sent a shiver up her spine. She moved into a proper stance, each motion smooth and flawless yet with painstaking accuracy.
Allen Shezar watched from several meters away, his arms crossed and lips pursed, as his sister began the complex series of movements. Beside him, Gadeth whistled in appreciation of her nearly perfect form. "She's improved tremendously, hasn't she?" he remarked.
Allen nodded grimly. "Yes. It's almost alarming. The lessons I've taught her are the same as those Vargas taught me when I was her age. Sometimes even more advanced than that."
He hummed thoughtfully. "So, does that mean she's as good as you?"
"All she lacks is experience."
Celena paused, regaining her breath and wiping her palms on her brown trousers. When she noticed the two men watching her she waved, a gesture they returned. She smiled and adjusted her grip for the next exercise.
"You know, Boss, I can't help but wonder," spoke Gadeth after some time. "Do you think this was a good idea? Teaching Celena to fight and all."
"Honestly, I don't know." Allen's expression became troubled. "She hasn't shown any signs of having Dilandau's memories or personality, but…she's different than the Celena I knew as a child. I'm not sure if it's a result of the sorcerers or simply the time that's passed between us."
"Such as?"
He sighed through his nose. "As a child Celena was very shy, as I remember. I was the only one she trusted. Now she's become outgoing, and witty. She loves attention, and she still can't stand to be alone for very long."
"Sounds like an insecure teenager, if you ask me," Gadeth replied. "As I understand it, you went through quite a few changes during your teenage years."
His comment managed to raise a smile to the knight's surface. "I suppose you're right."
"You are awful protective of her. It's just paranoia."
Allen nodded, his eyes growing distant. "But…there's no mistaking the style in which she fights," he said quietly, watching the reflections of light off of Celena's polished blade. "I fought…him…too many times to forget. And what's more, I can tell that she's still fighting beneath her full potential."
"Brother!" Celena ran up to them, waving and laughing. "Brother, did you see? Am I getting better? I think I'm ready for the next lesson."
"Not yet," Allen told her with gentle firmness. Despite all his misgivings, whenever she smiled at him that way, his fears were dissolved. Surely this was his Celena. "But soon."
Her wide blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "And the Guymelefs? When will I get to--"
"Not until you've finished your sword training," he interrupted, patting her shoulder. "Why don't you go through that last set once more, and then we'll spar."
"Alright." Grinning broadly, she turned and left to continue her training.
Gadeth scratched his chin and smirked. "You have to admit, though," he laughed, "that she's grown into quite a woman. She's got a terrific body."
"Gadeth!" Allen sputtered in exasperation.
"Sorry. You shouldn't be thinking about your sister that way, anyway. Well, I gotta check up on the boys--you know what they're like when they're by themselves."
"Of course." Allen crossed his arms. He suddenly began to scrutinize his old friend very closely.
Gadeth couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry Boss, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not the only one who thinks so. But don't worry--she's a good girl, and no one would try anything with the sister of Allen Shezar." He slapped his shoulder. "See ya later."
The knight's temperament didn't lighten. "Sure. Take care."
Gadeth moved away, and soon after Allen drew his sword to join his sister. She delightedly took up the proper stance. She attacked, and their swords clanged.
Her strength has improved as well as her style, Allen thought, parrying her blade. She spun and struck again with a force that sent a tremble through his arm. I can't believe she's gained so much skill this quickly. When she regained her senses after the war, she didn't even remember how to hold a sword. But now….
They locked swords again, but this time Allen's greater weight allowed him to force her easily back. Through some footwork that even he couldn't follow, she managed to keep from being toppled. They parted, circled, then met again. "Don't be in such a rush," Allen advised over their blades. "Concentrate. And don't leave yourself open."
He struck horizontally, catching Celena's weapon by the hilt and wrenching it from her grasp. It pinwheeled away and stuck into the earth.
Celena stared after the sword first in surprise, then dismay. Her breath slowed. "You win again."
Allen smiled. "Someday, you'll beat me," he told her with a laugh. "Now come on--you ought to be hungry."
"Not really." Celena retrieved her sword, and made careful work of cleaning the dirt from the blade. "I want to practice more, to perfect my style." She shot him an almost sinister look. "So you'll teach me the next lesson."
Though he responded to her comment with a chuckle, something in his chest tightened with her words. "If you say so. But I'm a knight with duties--you'll have to practice alone."
She paused, straightening visibly at those words. He knew it would be enough to convince her to return with him. But to his bewilderment, she turned a smile on him, and merely said, "Okay." She began her training once more.
Allen returned to the palace deep in thought. Celena isn't just your little sister anymore, he repeatedly told himself. Gadeth did have one good point--she's a woman now, and you can't keep…sheltering her the way you do.
He had never told her the truth. In the chaos of the final battles of the war three years ago, covering Dilandau's transformation was a simple matter. None of the soldiers had been close enough to tell certainly that what they saw exit the Oreades was not its original pilot. Thanks to Allen's quick thinking, a plan was formed: he wasted no time in leaving the battlefield with Celena in tow, instructing his crew to alert the soldiers that Dilandau Albatou was being taken into custody. Once back in Palas, Millerna and her father were advised of the situation, and spread word that the former Dragonslayer captain had been executed as a war criminal. Celena was then taken immediately to the Shezar household on Palas's outermost edge and kept in hiding for several weeks. During that time Allen made several trips to Zaibach with Asturia's diplomats. Soon, the story circulating was that he had discovered his sister being held as a slave in a small Zaibach household.
And so, the truth was hidden without challenge or suspicion. Even more convenient was the state of Celena's mind: after the battle she spent nearly a week bedridden, suffering from fever and hallucinations. When the illness had run its course, she remembered nothing of Dilandau, the Dragonslayers, or the war. The last images still in her brain were that of Jajuka, caring for her in the Zaibach holding facility. Allen supplied the necessary lies to help her piece together her life once more.
He hadn't wanted to deceive her. But as weeks and then months slipped past without signs of Celena's alternate personality reappearing, his decision proved to be an acceptable one. As the only ones who knew of the truth were the Asturian royal family, Van, the crew of the Crusade, and himself, there was little chance that the past would attempt to shade their present. It was best this way, to keep her from guilt.
Celena finally returned to the Shezar dwelling late that evening, her white top nearly soaked with sweat, her hands callused and blistered. "Dinne gave me this letter on the way in," she told her brother in his room. "It looks important." She held out the envelope--thick paper with gold trim that bore what appeared to be a royal seal.
"It's from Fanelia," Allen mused, breaking the wax. He removed a formally written letter and scanned its contents.
"Well?" Celena asked impatiently. "What is it?"
He frowned. "An invitation to Fanelia's capitol," he replied. "Apparently they're holding a festival for the rebirth of Fanelia."
"Really? When?"
"Two weeks from now," he read.
Celena leaned against his desk, crossing one slim leg over the other. "We'll attend, won't we? I haven't seen Van-sama in years."
Allen nodded vaguely, though his gaze was focused directly on his sister's eyes. There had been no shift in her manner when speaking the young king's name; he remembered a time when the boy's death was all that mattered to her, though not of her own will. He'd avoided reuniting the two since the war out of fear of that nearly instinctual grudge resurfacing.
"If you want to," he answered carefully. "It only takes a few hours to reach Fanelia by air."
"Of course I want to go. Van-sama's an old friend of yours, right? It'll be fun." She pushed away from the desk and took the letter out of his hand. "I'll respond right away."
"Wait." Allen carefully pried the paper out of her fingers. "I'll reply. There are some things I need to tell Van. I'll be sure to relay your enthusiasm," he added.
Celena gazed at him curiously and nodded. "All right. I'm exhausted, so I'm going to bed. Good night."
"Good night, Celena." Once she'd left the room he read through the letter once more, then prepared to respond.
Celena set her weapon on its cradle before collapsing onto her bed. She released her breath in a low sigh. "He still treats me like a child," she muttered, stretching her weary muscles.
Across the room, Misshel glanced up from the shirt he'd been mending. For the past year he'd been her personal attendant, and her best friend, having been orphaned as a child and needing the work. Celena had accepted him because of his gentle personality and boyish face. Allen had approved because he was the only male servant he could trust not to make an advance on her, due to his preferences. In any case, he was good company, and a willing listener.
"You mean Allen?" the red-head asked.
"Yes. Always Allen." Celena crossed her arms behind her head. "He's my brother, and I adore him--I really do--and they say I'm lucky he's teaching me to fight at all, but…." She scrunched her nose in disgust. "It's as if he's got me locked up in a birdcage or something."
Misshel coughed sharply into his hand. "Well, you can't really blame him. Having lost you for so long."
She heaved another sigh. "Not that that's going to happen again." Abruptly she sat up and crossed her legs. "I'm not his little bird anymore. I can take care of myself. I want to meet people, and pilot Guymelefs in the competitions. I want to go out to those parties Princess Millerna invites us to. He's such a bore."
"He's a knight, not a courtier. What can you expect?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Besides, you always show him up at those parties."
Celena grinned at the hidden compliment. "It's not my fault I have an exceptional singing voice," she giggled. "But seriously, if he tries to keep me locked up forever, I'll go crazy!"
"You know, Celena," Misshel chuckled, "I think you're a little crazy already."
She laughed, and said, "Thanks, kid. You always listen to me. I'm going to sleep now."
"Okay. G'night, lil' bird."
"Oh, stop it. Good night." She laid down on her stomach, and settled in for the night.
Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter 2: The Survivor
Celena pressed her hand excitedly against the glass of the Crusade's cockpit. Far below, the forests bordering Fanelia's countryside spread like emerald clouds, gently rustling in the west wind. At the horizon the lush canopy met a sky of breathtaking blue. Not a blemish spotted the perfect expanse. She absorbed the trees and mountains with wide, eager eyes. "Gadeth, are there dragons down there?" she asked briskly.
"For the hundredth time, yes," he replied gruffly, leaning against the window beside her. "Why're ya so damn interested anyway?"
Celena shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen one, but I want to. Even if Brother says they're ugly."
"I didn't say they were ugly," Allen corrected from beside the helm. "I said you'd probably be disappointed when you finally saw one."
"Isn't that the same?" She grinned at him, then continued her vigil.
Allen and Gadeth exchanged a look. The latter gave his boss a thumbs up sign to indicate that everything was fine, then started to chat with the girl about her sword training. She opened up to the topic immediately. Allen watched them thoughtfully for several minutes, his arms crossed. At long last Celena's delighted exclamation broke his repose.
"I can see it! That's the capitol, isn't it? Fanelia's capitol?"
Gadeth shielded his eyes against the window glare and looked for himself. "Sure is," he confirmed. "Looks like we'll be there in under an hour."
"I'm going to get ready. Don't land without me!" Celena skipped away from the window, giving her brother a pat on the back as she left. He shot her a dubious glance, and she giggled.
In her room, Celena changed quickly into the outfit Misshel had helped her pick out. It was a one piece, dark blue sun dress with a sleeveless top; it flowed like silk when she moved. The top was trimmed with silver, and fit her perfectly. "Thank you, Misshel," she whispered, slipping on the finishing touches: sandal-shoes with two inch heels, and a silver chain necklace. She looked herself over in the mirror, laughed, and left to rejoin the others.
--
"Announcing the guests from Asturia!"
Van straightened on his throne, repressing the urge to jump immediately to his feet. He shifted as the grand chamber's thick oak doors opened, revealing the travelers. Allen was in the lead, dressed in his usual knight's outfit, looking just as he had the last time they'd met--nearly two years previous. The crew of the Crusade followed, gaping in awe at the remolded castle interior.
The King's attention was drawn swiftly to the figure on Allen's left: a teenage girl, dressed in elegant azure clothing with silvery-blond hair. Both colors worked to enhance the startlingly beautiful shade of her eyes. Van stumbled mentally over her identity. Of course--it's Celena. Allen's sister. He couldn't help but stare momentarily. Who was really…my God, I had no idea she'd become this--
"Van." Allen stood before the throne, grinning. "It's good to see you again."
"Allen. You too." Van descended the few steps to meet his guests. "You haven't changed a bit, and neither has your crew," he observed with a chuckle. He nodded to them as recognition. He paused at Celena. "But your sister is another matter."
Celena smiled prettily and offered her hand, which he killed respectfully. It's still so hard to believe what she once was. "It's good to finally see you, Van-sama," she greeted gracefully. "I've been looking forward to this."
"Likewise." He suppressed a bit of anxiety at her words that sounded so familiar through that voice. "Shall I give you all a tour? A lot has changed."
Allen and Celena accepted; Gadeth and his crew declined, all too eager to find a tavern and some drinks. "You were right about us," the knight joked once they'd been escorted out. "We haven't changed. But you, Van." He made a sweeping look of the king. "You've aged rather well. It seems that you've become a fine man."
Van paused, not expecting such praise. It made him feel proud, however, to receive a compliment from this man. "Thank you, Allen. I…appreciate it." Unconsciously he fingered the pendant around his neck. "But, anyway, how about that tour? We have some new melef designs I want you to see."
"Yes!" Celena exclaimed, nearly pouncing. "Please show us, Van-sama."
Van almost took a step back; Allen looked worried, and that was enough to raise his pulse a notch. The spark he'd seen in her eyes was a bit too familiar for his tastes. "Are you familiar with Guymelef designs?" he asked carefully.
She nodded eagerly. "I've been studying them, even though Brother won't let me pilot one. He wants his women to be demure and innocent."
"C-Celena," Allen sputtered.
Van blinked in surprise, then laughed. "She's developed quite an attitude, Allen. Shall we go?" When he looked into her eyes once more, he found them to be bright and curious. There's no need to worry, some quiet voice told him from inside. That's not bloodlust or hate. She's a teenager with the blood of an adventurer in her. He took her by the hand, assuring his ancient comrade with a steady gaze. She can't stay sheltered forever. I'll follow your example, Hitomi. I will trust her, so that we may one day forgive each other.
--
Celena allowed the king to lead her out to the Guymelef grounds. She had an odd feeling about him--his smell, his eyes, even his aura overpowered her excitement in seeing the majestic metal giants. His hand was callused and rough, like her own skin. She felt as if she knew each of those scars, deeply; they connected her to him.
We met only three years ago, she pondered, but he looks at me as if it's been longer. Like he knows me well--like he's expecting something. Reflexively her hand tightened around his, which gained his quick, curious attention. He knows something. He knows me.
When they entered the Melef hanger, Celena forgot her repose. The structure was made of sturdy oak, towering above their heads in an impressive arch. Inside, both walls stretched for hundreds of meters, each lined with benches and ladders and scaffolding for repairing injured armors. Dust rose in spumes of gray cloud from the dry earth to filter about the feet of giants.
The sight of them stole Celena's breath away. They sat like kings upon thrones of iron, magnificent in their silence despite the bustling of their attendants. Lazy sunlight slid over their shining armaments, like honey dripping over moist lips. Further down the hanger sparks flew like fiery rainbows as the machines were welded and mended. Dozens of engineers mingled about, fixing and figure, and yet their looming masters remained still, and patient, waiting.
"Celena?" Allen's hand tightened briefly on her shoulder--she hadn't even noticed it there. "Are you all right?"
She shook herself, and nodded, gathering her wits. "Yes. Yes, Brother, I'm fine. It's just so…" She bit her lip. "…amazing."
"Most of the these aren't made for battle," Van explained as they wandered down the line of machines. "We learned from past mistakes--war creates war. So these have been modified for building, fielding, and other simple tasks." He gestured to each model as they passed. "We do have one clan of samurai who are allowed to use the battle Melefs, but we're very selective."
Allen nodded in thoughtful approval. "And Escaflowne?"
"Sleeping in the temple, as it should be." There was no regret in the king's face. "War and hate call the dragon. Someday, its strength will be needed. I hope to postpone that."
"Those are strong words, Van. It's good to see you've become so wise a king."
He smiled grimly. "In these times, I have no choice."
Celena let her gaze wander as the pair went on to discuss the modified Guymelefs. She wasn't interested in such mundane task--she wanted to see the melefs owned by the samurai. Those would surely be astounding.
Before then, however, her eye caught something: another pair of orbs that watched her. They belonged to a young mechanic, perched on the shoulder of a large harvest melef. He seemed to be only a few years past her own age, with almost black short hair and pale gray eyes sunk into a lean countenance. He was staring at her intensely. She stopped walking to stare back--her hands slipped out of Van's, and the pair of men went on without noticing.
The youth leapt off of the melef's shoulder to its outstretched hand, and from there to the ground. His movements struck her--she could tell that he'd been trained in some way. His slender body approached with clipped, militaristic precision. She liked him immediately, just by the look of him: well-kept, serious, and sharp.
When they were only a few feet away he stopped, abruptly, and straightened. He stared at her, half bewildered and half suspicious. When some time had passed and he said nothing, she asked, "What is it?"
He stiffened, as if expecting some severe punishment. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," he replied hastily. "You…look familiar to me, that's all."
"I hope that's a compliment," she chuckled.
"Well--well yes," the youth stammered awkwardly, betraying his flawlessly strict manner of standing. "You're…quite beautiful."
Celena blushed, and smiled coyly. "Really?" She extended her hand. "My name is Celena Shezar."
"Shezar?" His hand, which had been moving to meet hers, stopped abruptly. She took it upon herself to shake it in his momentary lapse. "As in Allen Shezar?"
"Yes," she said, beaming. "He's my brother. And you are?"
He carefully withdrew his hand, and licked his lips. "My name is--"
"Kert." Both started, surprised to find Van standing just beside them. His manner was rushed and uncomfortable. "Kert Simmons, one of our mechanics."
The boy sent his king a queer look, ready to protest, but then Allen intervened as well. "Come on, Celena. The samurai Guymelefs are just a bit further."
Celena glanced at her brother, then the boy, then back again. "All right. And don't worry--he didn't try anything," she added curtly.
"I didn't mean…." But by then she had already moved off. He shrugged and followed.
--
Jovey Garrelli watched with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes as the siblings continued on together. "Van, what was that?" he asked quietly. He spoke with far less courtesy than any of the other mechanics would have used when addressing their king. "Why did you lie about my name?"
The king sighed in relief, and muttered something under his breath that Jovey couldn't hear. "It's nothing important," he said. "It doesn't really concern you, but…." He hesitated before finishing. "I think it would be better if you stayed away from Celena Shezar. She hates Zaibach passionately, because of what they did to her. Besides, I'm sure Allen wouldn't approve."
Jovey's tone dropped. "I wasn't doing anything wrong. I just--"
"I know. But trust me, Jovey." Van looked him directly in the eye. "You don't want to be around her. I'd appreciate it if you stayed away from the castle while she's here."
"Are you saying that I'd--"
"I'm not implying anything," he assured. "Please, just trust me." He slapped the mechanic's shoulder, and Jovey pulled away. "You're dong good work. Keep it up." He left then to rejoin his friends.
Jovey glared at the king's back as he departed. He then looked past his caped form, focusing on the figure of the young woman. Her movements were as familiar to him as her face. Like a shadow she stayed in his mind long after the trio had escaped his sight. He lifted a hand to his face, as his jaw had begun to ache.
--
Late that night Van lay awake in bed. The night was warm--the stuffy heat worsened his present condition of insomnia. His mind spun. When the stress became unbearable he clutched at his pendant and focused his thoughts. Several deep breaths calmed him enough to work the magic. -Hitomi?-
He waited for a response. Soon he was comforted by a warm presence--a mind, tentatively reaching for him. It settled within him, expressing concern at his anxiety.
For the past three years they had communicated this way: through the pendant they spoke with their feelings, consoling and encouraging each other through difficult times. Van never knew whether she could hear him clearly or not--to him, she spoke only in flashes of emotion and color, without voice. He wished desperately that, just once, he could hear her again.
"I'm all right," Van spoke aloud to the ceiling. He turned his head to stare out his window, gazing at the beautiful blue moon that rested low in the sky. "Allen is here."
As he'd expected, her response was a mixture of joy, inquiry, and regret. "He's fine, too; he brought Celena this time. And…she met Jovey."
Hitomi's comprehension was instantaneous, and she projected her concern. Van sighed. "I don't think she recognized him at all, but…he almost recognized her, somehow." He rubbed his eyes. "Today I was wondering if it was right to hide the truth from her, and now I'm guilty of it."
-Allen?-
"Allen doesn't know about Jovey at all. I…didn't want him to worry."
-Tell him-
Van smiled grimly. "I thought you might say that," he murmured. "There might not be any better way. He should at least be aware."
-You?-
"I'm fine, really." His throat tightened, but he managed to hold the emotions in. "Celena doesn't remember Dilandau at all. Looking at her….Allen may be worried, but there's nothing wrong with Celena. She's just trying to live her life."
Hitomi's mind settled, and he could almost imagine her contented simile. She was proud of him, for trusting Celena so strongly, and being so compassionate. Her pride filled and nourished him. "Thank you," he whispered, his hand tightening around his pendant. "Goodnight, Hitomi."
-Goodnight-
In the morning, he thought deftly, I'll tell Allen.
Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter 3: Sleeping Dog
Celena managed to wake, dress, and escape her room before Allen awoke. She held her breath the entire time. It was exhilarating, doing this against her brother's instructions: he'd told her not to return to the Melef Hanger without him, as it was dangerous and she'd be in the way. She had not forgotten those warnings--they were still with her, repeating over and over as she scampered down the corridor. The sound of them made her giggle.
The morning air was so still that it felt as if it were rippling around her when she moved. She reveled in the sensations of early fog covering her skin, and the silence-breaking tap of her shoes on the road-stones. She ran to the hanger as if chased, all the while suppressing peals of excited, mischievous laughter.
She was disobeying her brother.
As soon as Celena could see the hanger, the clang of metal and buzz of machinery reached her. It gave her a chill and urged her faster, until she was sprinting. If I don't go fast enough, he'll catch me, her mind reasoned irrationally. He won't let me see them. Run. Run faster.
She burst into the hanger with a flourish and slowed, her body bending as she gasped for breath. Slowly, she regained her composure. Her gaze soaked in the image of the slumbering metal giants that surrounded her; they lifted her, strengthened her. And she laughed.
"Celena?"
Celena bolted upright, and nearly toppled, as she still felt light-headed after her long run. A hand steadied her shoulder--a slender, callused hands that was familiar to her. The man revealed himself to be the mechanic from the day before. "Are you all right?" he asked, allowed her to balanced off of him.
"Yes," she huffed, pressing a hand against her chest. She stepped away once her equilibrium had been replaced. "I'm fine. I was just…running." She dusted off her soft leather pants and blue vest. "Isn't it a little early to be working?"
"It's early to be running," he pointed out quietly, taking a step back of his own.
Celena chuckled, then coughed. She waved off any assistance. "I wanted to see the melefs before Brother woke up," she explained. "He wouldn't have let me."
"You like melefs?"
"Yes! But I've never ridden in one." She grinned suddenly. "Will you show me?"
Jovey looked her over carefully. She appeared genuinely interested, and excited. He wondered what it was in her blue eyes that caused Van to sense danger.
"You don't want to be around her."
"Sure, I'll show you." He led the way down the immense corridor, and Celena followed eagerly. "I suppose you want to see the battle melefs," he said vaguely, noting the healthy glow in her cheeks and eyes. "I can't let you ride one, so don't ask. But I can show you."
"Thank you."
The samurai's battle melefs were located at the back of the compound, sitting royally on their benches like the preserved corpses of dead kings. Jovey stopped before them. "Here." He pointed to each as he listed off their names. "Calberan, Dragonsbane, Fyodor, and Alseides."
"Alseides?" Celena frowned at the last melef in the row: a blue-gray armor with broad, rounded shoulders. "I thought all the Alseides models had been destroyed during the war."
"They were." Jovey dropped his gaze as he explained. "This one I designed and had built myself, in honor of…an old comrade." He glanced at the young woman beside him, and licked his lips. It can't be. You're talking to a girl. Stop being foolish.
"Are you really Allen Shezar's sister?" he asked abruptly, turning on her. She recoiled--not in fear, but only mild surprise. "My name is Jovey Garrelli--Van lied to you yesterday."
"What are you talking about?" Celena demanded in bewilderment. "Of course I'm Allen's sister--Celena Shezar. And why would Van lie? You're just a mechanic."
Jovey gulped; he could feel his pulse racing through his temples, and fought hard to keep himself calm. "I'm not," he said, his voice rising. "I was a Zaibach officer--a Dragonslayer."
He held his breath, waiting, but Celena didn't react. She only stared at him inquisitively. He suddenly began to feel very foolish, expecting this woman--a Shezar--to remember him and the Dragonslayers. No matter how much she resembled his former leader, it was impossible. Dilandau Albatou was dead.
He's dead. Calm down--you're just confusing her.
Jovey relaxed; he sighed, and lowered his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, glancing away. "You're…you're no the person I'm talking to."
Celena cocked her head to the side with innocent curiosity. "Who were you talking to?"
"It's not important now. Come on." Jovey started toward the guymelef bench. "I'll give you a better look."
Celena readily complied, allowing him to help her limb the scaffolding. Soon they were resting on the armor's thick round shoulders. Jovey began to explain the designs he'd created, and was pleasantly surprised when his company interjected with sensible comments. She claimed to have been studying guymelefs for the past three years--her knowledge was testimony to that boast. She spoke like an expert.
As the morning lengthened, several more mechanics appeared to service the different melefs. Celena didn't seem to notice; she saw only the metal beast upon which they sat. Several times she expressed her wish to pilot it, and each time Jovey refused with a smile brighter than the last. He appreciated the childlike wonder in her face and tone, remembering days past when he had obsessed over the iron giants. She had a rare gleam that attracted him; sincere, deep respect for the vessel. He hadn't seen such homage for a long time.
"Do you think I'll pilot one someday?" Celena asked idly, her fingers sliding over the metal."
"Of course. You look like you were born in one."
She laughed at that, which raised an old feeling inside him. "Maybe," she conceded. "Brother's the same way--he loves it, and he's an expert." She sighed wistfully. "I wish I could have my own."
"Someday, I'll build you one," he replied.
"Really?"
"Certainly." Jovey grinned--genuinely, which was somewhat unusual for him. Listening to her talk like this made him feel oddly calm, as if things had suddenly become as they were meant to be. "What kind would you like?"
"An Alseides," Celena replied immediately. "Like this one." She patted it affectionately. "So I can prove to brother that I'm good enough."
"He really bothers you, doesn't he?"
She shook her head emphatically. "It's not that I don't appreciate him. I'm doing this for him--I don't want him to feel like I'll always need his protection." She averted her eyes guiltily. "I've always caused him pain. I'm a burden to him, and I don't want to be."
Jovey flinched, his lips parting to draw a sharp breath. Her words echoed in him through a different voice. "I don't ever want to be a liability to him. I'll work hard, so that he'll never have to worry about me again."
He started to speak, but just then they were interrupted by a call from below. He scowled when he saw the source--Allen Shezar. The blond knight was glaring at him; his gaze softened when it transferred to Celena. "Celena, come down."
Celena ducked her head sheepishly. "Thanks for everything, Jovey," she whispered. "I gotta go."
"I understand," he replied with a nod. "Go on. He's your brother."
She smiled gratefully and began to descend from the Alseides. Jovey watched her all the way down, and as Allen chided her for sneaking away without telling him. He also scolded her for things he couldn't hear. He doesn't understand her feelings, he thought to himself, frowning deeply. Below, Allen led his sister away with a hand on her shoulder. He can't see. He's only making her suffer more. If he really loves her, he should see that.
Jovey slipped off of the melefs shoulder and onto the wooden scaffolding. "Time to work," he murmured to himself.
It wasn't until late that evening that Celena managed to escape her brother's watchful eye once more. The sun had just begun to set, melting as it met the burning red horizon. She breathed in the scent of it through the breeze. It reminded her of the sparks in the melef hanger, healing the iron gods. And before long she was there, running past the feet of the harvesters and builders, on her way to meet royalty.
A pleasant surprise awaited her: Jovey Garrelli was perched on the kneecap of his Alseides, polishing the metal. He glanced over his shoulder as she approached. "I knew you'd come," he said matter-of-factly.
Celena pressed her hand to the armor's leg. "Really? How?"
"Because I think I understand you." He looked her straight in the eye when he spoke--she liked that, because it meant he respected her. "I knew you wouldn't let your brother stop you."
"You make it sound like he's a slaver," she complained.
"Isn't he?"
Celena began to climb the scaffolding to reach him. "No," she protested sharply. "He's the best older brother I could have. He's just…protective."
Jovey chuckled, which sounded odd to her. She hadn't said anything amusing. "What's so funny?"
"They way you're defending him," he explained, pausing in his work. "Making excuses for him as if it doesn't matter to you."
She frowned. "It doesn't. Really."
This only widened his grin. "You can't fool me; I used to do the same thing." For the first time in their short conversation he escaped meeting her eyes. "When you care about someone deeply, you'll defend them even when you know they're wrong. There's nothing the matter with it, really."
Celena watched him very closely; she pressed a hand to her stomach, where a strange feeling had begun to grow. It was almost pain. She wondered if anyone had ever defended her by lying--if anyone cared or her that much. Allen had never made excuses for her. He kept her so protected that there was never a need to.
"Tell me," she instructed, snatching his arm. He flinched at the sudden touch, and almost recoiled. "Tell me about that person--the person you care about."
Jovey regarded her as if she were some dangerous animal that had suddenly pounced on him. His breath was held and his eyes wide--his reaction only increased her desire to know. She wanted to understand the person who had inspired so much devotion, perhaps even love, in this man. But more than that, she wanted to know if it was something she could have.
"Alright," Jovey said hoarsely. "I'll tell you.. Come on." He began to climb higher up the guymelef, and she followed, holding her breath. They stopped once they reached the Alseides's thick shoulders. From that height they could see the entire hanger stretched out before them like a valley.
Jovey situated himself comfortably on the machine. "I told you I was from Zaibach, right?" he began hesitantly. She could tell that this was a story he hadn't shared in some time. "I was member of a special group called the Dragonslayers, and it was our job to hunt Escaflowne."
Celena hummed thoughtfully. "Brother mentioned that Zaibach was after Escaflowne," she said. "But he never mentioned 'Dragonslayers.'" He told you to stay away from this man, her brain added. He told you Jovey couldn't be trusted, because he's from Zaibach. But Jovey doesn't seem like that at all. How many things has Brother kept secret from me--or lied about?
"There were only fifteen of us," Jovey continued. His intense eyes never left her face, as if awaiting some reaction. "Including our leader, Dilandau Albatou."
He paused. Celena waited for him to go on, but he didn't. Does he think I know that name? It sounds familiar, a little. But from where? She wracked her memories, and ground her teeth in frustration when she came up with nothing. "That's the one you meant, right?" she said, hoping he'd continue and give some clue. "You really respected him."
He nodded in a rueful, haunted way. "He was expert guymelef pilot--maybe the best in Zaibach. No, surely." His expression hardened. "Van was the only one who ever beat him; not even your brother, Allen Shezar, ever bested him in combat. He was ruthless, commanding the fear and respect of every officer and opponent beneath him. Not even General Aldephos would dare cross him."
Celena's hand tightened around the fabric of her dress, as it had begun to tremble. "What did he look like?" she asked breathlessly, as her brain scrambled to form an image.
Jovey hesitated again. "He was pretty young when I knew him--pale and slightly built, but he knew how to throw his weight around when he had to. Actually…." He licked his lips. "He had silver-blond hair, like yours, and red eyes. You reminded me of him the first time I saw you."
She laughed nervously, relieving some of the tension in her gut. "I could never be someone like that," she said brightly. "He sounds amazing."
"He was." The youth's eyes gleamed with an emotion she didn't recognize; it might have been fear. Her pulse began to rise once more. "He was vicious and obsessive--terrifying, really. He enjoyed the pain of others. It got him into trouble--he wasn't perfect, and he made many obvious errors, but--"
Celena felt the impact resonate down the bones in her arm, and the skin on he palm began to tingle. She watched, dumbfounded, as Jovey's head turned sharply to the side; only his quick reflexes kept him from tumbling off the Alseides's broad shoulder. She stared at him in shock, then looked to her hand.
She's struck him. Now that the even had passed she no longer remembered, but the evidence was clear. Quickly she confined both hands to her lap. "I--I'm sorry," she stammered, appalled at her own actions. "I didn't mean--forgive me."
Jovey didn't face her. He sat with one hand steadying him on their metal perch, the other cradling his head. His soft black hair hid whatever expression there might have been. She could barely bear him breathing. Slowly, dreadfully, he turned to face her.
Celena's heart leapt into her throat and there held, suspended by the look in his eyes. Within him she saw shock, recognition, and even hope, like swirls of violent color etched into his skin. She could feel him reaching for her, not with flesh but a longing. Even more terrifying was that something insider her desired to respond--to scream, to laugh, to curse and cry like a mad child. Because he was reaching into her more deeply than anyone every had, even deeper than the awesome presence of the guymelefs. He was tugging at her heart.
Celena jerked away as Jovey touched her arm. "Don't," she pleaded in a hoarse, desperate whisper. "Don't touch me."
Jovey recoiled. By now his brain was overflowing--he knew those sensations. He remembered the punishment that came without warning, the sting of flesh on flesh, and the shame that followed. He knew that pain as a scar that rested inside of him. "Celena," he said just as breathlessly. "You…you can't be--"
"Shut up!" She withdrew once more, wrapping her trembling self in her arms. If he touched her--if he even tried--she could feel her body waiting to retaliate. "Please, just…" She leapt to her feet and escaped toward the scaffolding.
"Wait! Celena!" He reached, but by then she had already moved out of range. She clamored down the crude ladders and he followed, faint from shock.
God…oh God, can it be him?
Celena hit the ground running. Her pursuer landed a moment later and gave chase. The dust rose in spumes around his feet as they pounded the earth. Already his legs ached, having worked all day in the hanger, but still he pushed his speed to its limits. He saw only the silver-haired, slightly-built figure slowly falling away from him.
Please, let me reach him this time--
Someone had left a tool out. Jovey yelped in surprise as his boot was snagged and yanked out from underneath him. His stomach lurched into his throat as he began to fall, and the world tilted crazily. The impact came next, stabbing nails of pain into his hands and arms. His breath was suspended, and he lay there in the dirt, gasping and coughing. Blood seeped down his palms and elbows. His skull was pounding.
Jovey groaned as he pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. And then in a flash of realization he scanned the interior of the hanger, searching for the form he'd been chasing.
The hanger was empty--she had gone, leaving only a few particles of swirling dust in her wake. They glittered like tiny golden fireflies reflecting the last ray of sunset light.
Celena sprinted all the way back to her room in the castle. Voices chased her. They whispered in her ears, their ghost-lips so real to her that she could feel their breath against her lobes. Her hands struck out in a wild attempt to drive them away. They would not be so easily deterred, however; the hoarse tones tore at her skin and hair, and she shrieked, trying to block out the awful sound.
They heavy oak door to her room yielded to her pounding fists, smacking with a percussion that frightened her into a sob. She covered her mouth and bolted inside. Once the door was slammed shut she threw herself onto the bed, shaking like a small child with the pillow to catch her tears.
Something's wrong with me. Celena bit into the cotton-filled fabric to ease her sobs, even as her shoulders crept up and her insides throbbed. What's happening to me?
A firm, comforting hand stroked her back. She jumped, startled, but wouldn't lift herself to face the man it belonged to. She knew who it was by the scent of his cologne. That morning she was willing to do anything to disobey him; now she felt only shame.
Several quiet minutes passed that way; she cried softly into her sheets, as Allen gently massaged her shoulders and back. He did not shun or admonish, or eve question, even if he desperately wanted to know. She felt foolish for having ever doubted him.
"Brother." With gradually returning strength she pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the de of the bed. Allen, free of his knightly uniform, sat patiently beside her. For the first time in her memory she couldn't bare to look him in the face. "I'm sorry," she told him quietly. "I think you were right. I should have stayed away from Jovey."
He didn't speak for some time; when he did, his tone was stern but concerned. "What happened?"
"He didn't do anything," Celena quickly defended him. "We were just talking, and I got a funny feeling in my stomach." Her hand covered her abdomen, as that feeling had returned with the memory. "And I hit him! I didn't want to--it just happened. And his eyes…." She shuddered. "The frightened me, so I ran away."
Allen's hand rested on her shoulder. "You're all right now," he assured, despite the stiffness in his fingers. "I'm sure he wouldn't have hurt you."
She nodded gloomily. "No, he wouldn't. But the way he looks at me…like he's expecting something…" She turned and flung her arms around him suddenly; she had always depended on him this way, to give her strength when she had none. "Don't go anywhere," she begged, clutching his shirt. "Don't leave me alone, brother. I was so scared."
Allen held her tenderly, his fingers sliding through her hair. "Don't worry, Celena," he whispered. "I won't let anything hurt you." There was a pause. "Now, I'm not going to tell you--"
"I know." Celena closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. And even though the words caught in her throat, she pushed them through. "I won't go see Jovey again."
He didn't reply, which she was grateful for. Instead he laid her down on the bed, pulling the covers over her. She held them to her tightly. "Go to sleep," he said gently. "You'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk some more."
"Thank you, Brother." She smiled faintly with gratitude. "Good night."
Allen patted her head affectionately. "Goodnight, Celena. I'll be here, so don't worry."