Dragon in the Ashes

Chapter 1

Peace, silence. Everything was warm and quiet here, allowing him to float through the nothingness unhindered and unimpeded by either past present or future. There were no thoughts to trouble him and no memories to weigh him down. Time had no meaning here. This was a place of tranquility and sweet oblivion.

He wasn't sure when he became cognisant. It began so subtly at first. In the beginning, it was the simple awareness of self. Existence, after such an extended period of nothingness was jarring to say the least. Instincts began to stir, urging him to move, to look and explore this strange prison. Following closely was the realization that he had no eyes to look or body to move. Had he a face, his brows would have furrowed in confusion even as his lips would have twisted into a snarl of challenge.

Time began to have meaning, and with each passing moment he sensed impending change. The once empty void grew darker as pressure began to squeeze him from all sides. That strange blissful lassitude drained away, leaving a disturbing sense of anxiety which only seemed to grow.

The pressure around him rippled and something flickered through his consciousness. There was a flash of brightness, twisting and hot. Beautiful? The concept bounced around in his mind as his thoughts struggled to achieve definition. Heat, burning…fire. Yes, he remembered fire, felt it fill him with its voracious power. Fire had been so pure, so vicious and uncompromising. It felt no pity, no remorse and it burned everything away, leaving only the softest of ash.

Without realizing it, his awareness drifted closer to the surface, drawn by the heat. More senses opened up to him, filling the nothingness and quickly overwhelming him with information his brain wasn't ready to comprehend.

The void was gone now, burned away by the fire which had ceased to be comforting. The flames burst upwards up with a roar, but he didn't hear them anymore. Screams had risen all around him. At first they were simply voices of strangers screaming for mercy, crying out in terror and loss. They served only to gain his attention and were quickly overpowered by something worse.

His name… screamed out over and over again by fifteen dying throats. Each utterance defined him, pulled him further away from the soothing warmth of the nothingness he'd been. Deep in his mind, dying mouths gaped open, vomiting forth blood as they struggled for breath with which to condemn him. Loss, pain, terror… he'd failed. Failed them, failed his mission, failed his destiny. That sweet void had now become a nightmare and it was all his fault!

Desperately, he tried to cling to oblivion, sensing that his destination would be somewhere even worse than this. Unfortunately the problem with nothingness was that it gave you precious little to hold onto. Had he possessed fingers, he'd have clawed at the fire, trying to pull himself back, but the flames twisted and spun, becoming a whirlpool of heat and blood that sucked him down without remorse.

Pain tore through him, it gave his body form even as the screams had shaped his mind. Both familiar and loathsome, it served to make the sounds even louder and more defined. One, higher pitched than the others and filled with a wild and frantic fear stood out amongst the others. It grabbed him, sank poison talons into his consciousness and the pain of his body became outright agony.

Desperately, he tried to tear it away, but the poisonous sound filled him, became him. It flowed along his nerves, defining them with its very presence and setting them alight one after another so that he was writhing in agony before he even had a body to move.

Bones twisted, broke then reformed, tearing muscles and ligaments into new shapes. Skin stretched and limbs shifted. Each new torment cemented him further in this nightmare until he thought that he'd be driven mad by it all. Was this it? Was this his existence? Through it all, the voices condemned him with their screams.

"You left us!"

"You let us die! You didn't do anything to stop him!"

"We died for you, our lives for yours!"

"You threw away our sacrifice!"

"We loved you!"

"You turned your back on us!"

"Traitor!"

"Help me please! Brother! Anyone!"

It was that last voice which was the final catalyst, sending raw agony tearing through him like a lightning strike. His heart beat so fast against the confines of his ribs that it was moments away from bursting. High pitched screams, eerily familiar deepened, becoming his own, resonating through his body and anchoring him in this hellish existence.

The pain didn't so much recede as shift, becoming external rather than internal. Lungs strained as he drew in a deep breath, the air scratching at a throat torn raw from screaming. It was an aborted attempt, a heavy pressure pressed down on him from above. Something rough and hard dug into his back, bruising flesh and helping to further center himself.

A foul wind blew across his face and he felt a wet drop of liquid land on his cheek, fouling his skin. Another foul breeze… no, breath. Someone was breathing on him, crushing him. Trying to roll away proved to be fruitless, he was pinned beneath that terrible weight and further struggles revealed that his wrists were similarly immobile.

Blinking his eyes cleared his vision, revealing a face hovering close to his own. Ugly, pockmarked, it was a middle aged man, his skin ravaged by sun and wind with a greasy beard covering the lower half of his face. Muddy brown eyes were wide as saucers, staring at him with utter uncomprehending horror.

"C…Captain Albatau?"

The words barely registered as his mind was still too deeply in shock to make sense of the words. Instead, he reacted on instinct, lunging upwards with the speed of a striking snake. His shoulders screamed at him, threatening to dislocate, but what was one more pain in this sea of agony? Teeth locked on flesh, greasy hair pressed against his skin and as his jaws tightened, hot blood flowed into his mouth.

The man howled in pain and tried to pull away, but the victim had become the aggressor and had no intention of letting go. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, trying to rip him away. A heavy fist slammed into the side of his head, stars burst behind his eyes, but it's nothing. He's endured far worse over the course of his life.

It's only after his teeth meet and flesh parts that he falls back, his mouth bloody and a chunk of flesh pressed against his tongue. He doesn't give the man a chance to fight back. Mercy has never been a part of his nature and he doesn't expect to grant any now.

Taking advantage of the man's surprise, he twists his body, ignoring the sharp bite of metal against his tender inner thighs. Already off balance by the initial attack and his hands busy staunching the rush of blood from his throat, the man is knocked over easily. Before his body has even hit the ground, fists are connecting with his face.

The first blow breaks the man's nose, sending a fresh gout of blood across them both. The second shatters teeth while the third and fourth break the jaw. After that, there's no point in counting as blow after blow rains down on the stunned figure. His palms are open, driving the heel of his hand against the hard skull with surprising effectiveness; the harsh lessons of his youth still guiding his actions. Without his beautiful crimson armour to protect his hands, he can't risk such a crippling injury. Only an idiot breaks his knuckles on the skull of an enemy.

This man… this man is the reason he was torn away from that peaceful nothingness. This man is the reason he hears the screaming over and over in his head. He deserves to die for his crime.

There's a rock in his hands. He's not sure when he grabbed it or even when he started driving it into the man's face, but it certainly shuts him up. Over and over, the rock is smashed into that twisted ugly face until it ceases to even vaguely resemble a man and instead has been reduced to simply low quality meat. That's one less voice screaming in his head at least.

"How dare you touch me!" He means to hiss the words but they come out as a shrill scream as the rock continues to smash into the remains of the now clearly dead man. Maybe if he keeps hitting him, the screaming will stop! All of his rage, fear and frustration pour into his hand as it drives the weapon down over and over again until all he knows is numbness.

Finally, after what seems like hours, his already overtaxed body gives out on him and the rock falls from nerveless fingers as he slumps over the corpse with a shattered sob. The screams still surround him and he has a feeling that they will never go away no matter how many people he killed.

"Boss… we need you by the stables." Gaddess' normally swarthy skin had a greyish pallor to it and his dark eyes were haunted by what he'd seen. The very fact that he refused to meet Allen's eyes warned him of the very worst case scenario, causing the normally calm and sedate Knight of Caeli to break into an undignified run.

They'd been assured that the area was perfectly safe. It was the only reason he'd allowed Celena to be left alone with only her nurse and two guards for protection.

They'd found Minar in front of the doors to Celena's room. He'd been stabbed twice in the chest but at least had taken his killer with him to the grave. The filthy beast was clearly a deserter from the war, clad in such piecemeal armour; it was hard to tell which country he'd belonged to originally.

The door o the room had been knocked off its hinges, causing his stomach to do several petrified flips as he'd raced inside. While his worst fears weren't realized, they were in no way assuaged. Instead of his sister, he'd found Haruna, her nurse sprawled across the bed with her throat slit. The aging woman had put up a fight judging by the bruises covering her face and the viciously split lip, but she'd accomplished her goal. A small scrap of pale blue cloth fluttered on the sill of the window. It had to have come from Celana's gown. The old nurse had bought his sister time to escape… he'd hoped it had been enough, but now he could feel that hope dying with every frantic step.

Once again, he cursed himself viciously over his foolishness in trusting the empty assurances of the towns Reeve. Worse, he blamed himself for insisting that his sister accompany them on this tour of the border. He simply loathed the idea of being apart from her for any length of time. After so many years of empty searching, he still woke up each morning frantic with the belief that her return had all been a dream. Only seeing her delicate form curled up in her blankets and smelling the sweet fragrance of her hair convinced him that it was reality.

She was so emotionally fragile, her mind still trapped as it had been at the age of five even though her body had aged beyond her comprehension. How would she react to this brutality? Would she find a place to hide? Would she run? Jeture help him…. would she fight?

His sweet sister had never held a weapon in her life, but he knew that there was always the chance that her body might remember all of those lost years. If her body remembered… her mind might as well. He quickly blocked out that thought before it could fully form. Concentrate on finding her, protecting her. She was back, against all odds she was back, and he wasn't going to loser her a second time!

Undignified curses flew from his lips as he stumbled around the building after his lieutenant. He didn't even register the other victims who lay either sobbing over the bodies of loved ones, or who were being tended to by the villagers who'd raced over at the sounds of the alarm bells.

Safe… he was going to strangle Reeve Desmondu for not noticing a group of brigands this large and organized. Surely there had to have been signs of them being in the area. Maybe that's why he'd been so eager to have them arrive.

Even six months after the war, the village was still working diligently to rebuild itself, as were many others. He and his crew had been assigned to oversee the situation of each village and report back to the palace. It was odious work totally unbecoming of a war hero, but he'd specifically requested it. Let the others all think that he was being altruistic, or simply distancing himself from the princess. He did it for the sole purpose of keeping Celana away from the capital. There were too many curious eyes and prying questions that neither of them were ready to answer. One misstep there could see his sister paying for war crimes she hadn't been aware of committing, or facing an angry mob of survivors intent on their pound of flesh.

"Please Jeture," He prayed fervently. "Don't take her away from me… anything but that!"

He barely noticed Hiru's body, sprawled out in the mud by the stables. All that mattered was the figure he saw up ahead, clad in the filthy remains of that pretty blue gown.

She was covered in blood and straddling a man who was suspiciously still. Her slender body was slumped over with her head so deeply bowed that her long silver bangs obscured her face. Slender shoulders shook violently as she sobbed and there was far too much luminously pale skin barred for his liking.

Allen's stomach churned with dread as he took in the sight of her ravaged form but it quickly turned to horror as he drew close enough to see the remains of the body she rested on.

Like the others, he wore patchwork armour, though most of it belonged to Zaibach. That in itself was bad enough, but the worst was the man's face… or lack thereof. He might as well have been savaged by a wild animal, the damage was that extensive. Every bone in his head appeared to have been pounded into paste, mixing with the gore which had once been a face. A nearby rock, stained brilliant crimson and coated with slimy objects best left uncontemplated lay nearby, making the murder weapon clear.

"Celena!" He cried out the name as he raced forward, not noticing how his sister failed to react at all to his voice, or how Gaddes tried to grab onto him and hold him back.

"Boss! I don't think that's-" The fine leather of his breeches was likely ruined as he dropped down to his knees, heedless of the gore and reached out to embrace his sister. It was only when his fingers were a hairs breadth from touching her shoulder that he froze, a little voice in his head screaming at him to be wary. For a moment, he knelt there, trying to figure out why he had the overpowering urge to raise his sword into a defensive position.

It was little things at first, easily unnoticed in his panic and the darkness of the stable, but once he'd seen them, impossible to overlook. Rather than the familiar platinum blond hair he held so dear, the locks hiding her face were a lustrous silvery white. The tears in the dress weren't just from an attack, the seams had torn in several places, as if the body inside could no longer be contained. While still slender in build, it was no longer a frail feminine thinness. Instead, wiry muscles stood out beneath alabaster skin, powerful and defined, it was the body of a young warrior more used to wielding a sword than an embroidery needle.

Worse… and it broke his heart to hear it, the torn sounding sobs were too deep to belong to a girl. Too deep, and far too familiar. The hair on the back of Allen's neck stood on end and his vision wavered as tears threatened to spill free.

"She lied…." Dilandau didn't look up or move from his vulnerable position. If it hadn't been for those softly spoken words, Allen might have thought that the boy had been wholly unaware of his approach. Another traitorous thought wormed its way into the knight's thoughts that perhaps he simply didn't care.

The all too familiar silken purr was lacking in his voice. Instead it had been replaced by a broken and anguished moan.

"The bitch lied to me…" As he spoke, a deceptively delicate looking fist rose up and then smashed down ruthlessly into the pile of meaty gore which had once been a man. Allen had to swallow several times to keep from gagging and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. He wanted to scream at his loss, rage at the horror in front of him and deny the cruelty of a Fate which had given his dream then snatched it away so quickly. The happiness he'd held so desperately in his heart was shattering with every moment that passed, and all he could do was watch the broken warrior further abuse a corpse.

The blows were half hearted at best, Dilandau's rage clearly already spent in the initial attack. For a long moment, the two held themselves perfectly motionless, tension vibrating in the air between them. Then, slowly, the silver shrouded head tilted up and beneath the blood streaked bangs, Allen could see those crimson eyes which had haunted so many of his nightmares. The fires which had always burned so brightly in their depths were missing, rendering them flat and dull with shock. They seemed to stare right through him, utterly devoid of recognition, making Allen wonder just who it was the boy was seeing.

"She lied to me…"He repeated to his unseen confidant. "She promised that there wouldn't be any more pain… that the screaming would stop…SHE LIED! MAKE IT STOP!" Without warning, his eyes lit up with that familiar maddened fire and his voice rose to a shriek, splitting the air around them. Despite himself, Allen's fingers tightened around his sword and he prepared for an attack. The fact that the boy was unarmed meant little to the knight. He'd noticed the gore covering the bottom half of Dilandau's face as well as the rock. Unarmed, he'd killed a man foolish enough to think he was weak. That wasn't going to happen a second time.

It was only when Dilandau began to tear at his hair with bloody hands that Allen released his sword and grabbed onto the boys slippery wrists, doing his best to stop him. Dimly, a small voice in his head warned him that trying to restrain someone who by all evidence had just been assaulted likely wasn't his wisest move, let alone someone as psychotic as the Zaibach captain. Still, there was no hesitation in his action as he then pulled the trembling boy against his body.

Blood called to blood, no matter how twisted by magic and the need to comfort his sibling overrode all logic. Jeture… this screaming maniac was his little sister… He wouldn't lose her again no matter how deeply she hid in that hated body. He'd won her back once, he would do so again despite the odds!

As if lending validity to his mental vow, the once dreaded warlord of Zaibach stopped struggling, too exhausted to offer any further existence. Instead, he fell limp into Allen's arms, sobbing softly with such utter loss that it nearly broke the man's heart.

"Boss?" Gaddes approached cautiously, unwilling to disturb the tender tableau but reluctant to leave his friend alone with the homicidal maniac for even a moment. Trembling bundle of tears or not, this was still the child soldier who had burned their fort to the ground and slaughtered countless of their friends. "You might wanna cover him up before anyone realizes what happened." With deliberately slow movements, as if approaching a particularly feral animal, the dark haired man edged over, holding out a long cloak he'd taken off of Hiru's fallen form. It felt somewhat blasphemous to take the garment from his friends body, but figured that the man had died to protect Allen's sister, he wouldn't begrudge this action… even if it was for her psychotic alter ego.

It took a few moments before Allen responded, looking up with wide eyes of the deepest blue. The pain in their depths was staggering and Gaddes had no idea how the man was holding it all together. He wanted desperately to protect the blond, but knew that Celena was their priority. If anyone realized who Allen was holding in his arms, she'd be taken away once again and this time, no power of Fate was going to bring her back. As much as he loathed to do so, he was going to have to protect the little mass murderer.

There were too many people milling around, poking their pointy noses into everything, eager to help. It wouldn't be long before someone saw Allen comforting someone and tried to get involved. He had to get them away from everything as quickly as possible. Worse, Dilandau's appearance was simply far too unique and well known to be mistaken for anyone else in Astoria. After the deaths of Emperor Dornkirk and Lord Folken, the boy was by far the most wanted man on Gaea and everyone knew he was still at large.

Still moving carefully, Gaddes drew close enough to drape the cloak over the slender figure, making sure that he never touched that too white skin with his own hands. The child was poison as far as he was concerned, destroying everything he touched. How sweet tender Celena had carried such a viper within her was utterly beyond him.

Smiling softly in thanks, Allen pulled the loose hood up over those brilliant silver locks, still receiving no resistance from Dilandau. It was more than a little unnerving as far as Gaddes was concerned, either there was something seriously wrong with the kid… more than the usual, or he was one hell of an actor. He simply couldn't imagine that a few deaths would cause the little psycho to do much more than bat an eye and yawn in boredom.

"What the hell happened Boss?" He found himself asking, and immediately regretting when he saw how Allen's face grew pale and sickened.

"Thank you Gaddes." The blond knight murmured softly, tugging at the edge of the hood to ensure that all the hair was properly covered. "I… I need you to stay quiet about this for the moment. Can you do that?"

Dark eyes narrowed at the request. Keeping things from the crew was nearly impossible at the best of times, and this wasn't some tiny indiscretion like sneaking back to the barracks after an unauthorised night on the town. Besides, the crew all knew about Allen's sister. They'd been there when she'd crawled out of that damned melef at the end of the war. It hurt that after all they'd been through, Allen felt like he couldn't trust them.

"I… I need to know what happened, to see if I can get her back. This might just be temporary… a reaction to the battle here…" He was grasping at straws and they both knew it.

"You can count on me." Gaddes replied softly, inwardly hating himself for agreeing to help the little monster in any way. While he might love and cherish Allen's sister, he'd much rather see her alter ego drowned in a lake… repeatedly. "You can count on all of us… you know that right?"

The blond head nodded slightly but before he could say anything, a soft voice drifted up from the depths of the cloak.

"I don't want to be here… she promised…" The aforementioned child warrior whimpered softly, his face buried against Allen's shoulder. "I keep hearing them screaming… Please make them stop screaming… Chesta… Gatti…"

Both men sighed for vastly different reasons. One was torn by the suffering clearly evidenced by the words, love battering down the barriers of the past, creating a powerful loyalty. The other thought of how difficult this was all going to be, and the danger they were all in because of it. Still, he was nothing if not loyal to his boss and friend. The two had been through too much together for a little thing like this to get between them. If Allen wanted his silence and cooperation, he'd have it.

"Let's get him out of here, I think I hear Reeve Desmondu over there." He motioned with his chin off to the left and then held out a hand to help the knight stand up. Normally Allen was quick and decisive, but this had clearly pushed him to his limits. It didn't matter, Gaddes was there to help him in any way he needed until he got his feet back under him. "There should be a room we can take over until we can radio for Crusade to come and pick us up."

Doing his best not to jostle either of them, he helped the Knight to his feet, noticing that he held the boy's body in his arms and that Dilandau didn't seem to be struggling at all, in fact, if it wasn't for the softly murmured rantings, he'd have thought the boy was out cold. That was likely a good thing though. No one would question seeing a knight carrying a cloaked girl in their arms, especially after an attack like this. If they happened to see any of the ruined dress which was still visible in places, it would only further confirm the illusion.

Still, every illusion needed help, and with a few quick motions of his hands, Gaddes had three nearby crewmembers push the crowd back, giving Allen room to walk. As curious as the onlookers were, they weren't rude or crass enough to struggle against the call for space or bother the obviously distraught knight with pointless questions.

While everyone was watching the handsome golden Knight, Gaddes quickly threw a few burlap bags over the remains of Celena's attacker, hiding him from prying eyes. Best if no one saw the brutality which had killed him, or the man's partial state of undress. Celena's reputation would likely suffer enough in the coming days as they struggled to uphold a lie. He didn't need to add to it.

"Get rid of the body and say nothing about it." He quietly ordered Riom, the nearest crew member as he brushed past him, following in Allen's wake. While he might allow himself to be complicit in this upcoming deception, he wasn't fool enough to believe that his friend was safe for even a moment with his newly returned "little brother".