The last thing… the last thing he remembered was that voice. It was a kind voice. His name was Jajuka, and they had only just met… But if that was true, then why did he remember that kind voice, as if from a long distant past? But no matter… That was the last thing he remembered. He had seen… as if from a long way away, through a tunnel, a little girl. He had seen her before. He had tried to forget her, forget even that she existed. It was terrible, to be her. Lonely. He saw her, and then he heard Jajuka's voice, from far away, shouting.
"It's all right, Lord Dilandau! It's all right to go back to being Celena! That kind, gentle, Celena."
"Jajuka…" He had said, and he saw her. A little girl, only five, alone, afraid. Jajuka was kind to her. Jajuka was her friend, her protector.
He didn't understand. He had heard that name before, when he started to know where he was again. He had lost himself, he had fallen away in shock from his body. It seemed he had been away for a long time. And when he awoke, he was kneeling before a grave. There was someone behind him, no, two people… One asked him, asked a stranger, asked Celena if they were all right. Celena? Who is Celena?
Jajuka had saved him. Jajuka had been a stranger, but was quickly his ally. He was alone without Shesta, Gatty, Dallet, Viole. There was no one. No one! He was alone, and then Jajuka came. He had been alone, but then there was Jajuka. He was lonely, and Jajuka came to save him… He was.. He was…
"Jajuka…" he pleaded, "don't leave me alone…" but then… There was a shock, he gasped out for air. A fit came over him, and he couldn't see any longer. And then… He wasn't there anymore, he was drifting in a pleasant pool. Water seemed to lap against him, it was a soothing feeling.
There was a voice, "Who are you?" it was a kind voice.
He was brought out of his reverie. He sat up, "Di-Dilandau.." he said, his voice cracking with panic. He tried to cover his face with his hands, but neither belonged to him anymore.
"Is that what they called you?" she asked.
"Y-yes." he said, and he was as a child, cowed, a small presence in what was now her mind. He had never been a child before, it was disconcerting, "Who are you?"
"You only understand fear and anger…" she observed, ignoring his question.
He smiled bitterly, "Boys will be boys." he said, a trace of the old poison in his voice.
"They never taught you anything else." Her voice was quiet, pensive. It seemed to him that despite her kindness, the voice was no longer innocent.
He was aware of her scrutiny. For a moment, her mind sifted through all his crimes. Death, death, death, death… "You saw… it all, didn't you?" He asked, quivering. He hated it, he hated feeling weak like this.
"I did." There was no pity in her voice, merely a soft matter-of-factness.
He was abruptly ashamed.
"But soon, you will see… You will understand." The voice seemed to smile benevolently, "You are not to blame…"
He was confused, "How can you say that?" It was as if he had worked his whole life for the right to no one's forgiveness, and she mocked him with acceptance and mercy.
"Shhh…" she said, and he was abruptly sleeping. He bathed in slumber, steeping in kindness.
His face changed, his voice changed… He was different, but he was the same. Her power had taken over his body, no, taken back her body.
He dreamed. He was in her place. She must have merely slept, all those years. Dreaming within Dilandau, seeing what he had done
She was seeing the battle. The movements. There was a Guymelef protecting her. The man, the man within… She knew who he was. He was… "Brother…" she said, her eyes filling with tears.
And then, (it was like a dream, it was a dream, the time moved quickly, strangely) she was in his arms, smiling. "I missed you, brother."
"I'll never leave you alone again." said Allen Schezar, pulling her close.
Dilandau had always hated Schezar. He hated him, though he didn't know why. Allen had left him alone. He had been a source of agitation to Dilandau, a thorn in his side. But more than that was the emptiness, the bitterness that he had subconsciously associated with Allen. They were the feelings that he understood.
And then he was at home, in Allen's home.
"…Jajuka." Celena was saying. The name of his last ally had brought him to the surface again, "He was the only one who cared. And then I was taken away."
"I wish I could have saved you from all of this…" Allen said ruefully.
She smiled, "No, dear brother. I learned many things from my experience. I was given a taste of the other side." She paused, gathering her thoughts once more, "After they took me away…It was terrible…I remember bright lights, and blank faces, and then only little things. Little pieces… I remember… growing up with a group of boys… Gatty, Shesta..." She trailed off, conscious of Dilandau's thoughts under the surface of her mind.
They were his heart. He woke first at ten. It was many years before the Magicians could finally get the calculations right. He had been the only one who had been a success. His eyes opened, and he blinked dully, trying to clear the lingering blurring from his vision. He was in a chamber, a darkened chamber filled with boys his own age. They were looking at him.
"Lord Dilandau…" they said. Their eyes were afraid.
He didn't question his birth. He just came to be, quickly and effectively.
"I am…?" he asked them, dazed.
"You are Lord Dilandau, our commander, sir." and he was.
"And you are…" he asked them, staring out at them.
"Shesta, sir." the boy said respectfully.
"I'm Viole!" called another, frightened but excited.
"Miguel!"
"Dallet!"
"Gatty, sir!" There were more, back then, many more. They were his heart. He hated his heart. They were told, he was a furious terror. That he was a soldier who tolerated no failure from his underlings. And so he was. It wasn't difficult to learn to be a tyrant. His soldiers expected it. But they weren't soldiers quite yet. They were guerrillas at first, silent children crawling the underbrush. Killing became easy. He felt warm blood on his hands for the first time. It was… indescribable.
Celena winced.
Allen had politely ignored her silence. He changed the subject, "Folken told me that Dilandau… That… you came from the magicians." He looked down at his hands momentarily, then up at her.
"I think so… I don't know what they were called." She said. She thought for a moment, calling memories up from her dreams, "I remember… I remember a castle, burning. I remember you, brother. And I remember… I tried to kill you."
Allen was silent for a long time, his face reflecting his feelings, "You've lived inside him, sister." he said, his face disquieted, "But I wonder, where is the person who was once Dilandau, and will he ever come back?"
Celena stayed wisely silent, and Dilandau, in his dreams, felt her gaze turn within, to him.
He… They… were elsewhere then. A field of white graves. He had been there, when he woke back up after the battle. She was kneeling at the same grave.
"Mother…" she said, her eyes filling with tears.
"You were here before.." Allen said, "When he first came back."
"Oh… I only vaguely remember. It was strange then, everything was in a fog. My mind wasn't there, it was inside me." She said, gazing at the white cross, "That wasn't the first time. I remember a moment of sickness, a pain and sadness. Dilandau…" she smiled, but she was smiling at the young man inside her, "wasn't taught how to cope with grief."
Allen frowned, but then thought of the Dragonslayers' grisly deaths, and understood.
"Yes, and then I can remember flowers… And I think… Jajuka was there." She closed her eyes.
Dilandau realized with a shock that he remembered that time, too. He was confused, panicked. He tried to come back out, he tried to return, struggling like a dumb beast against his bonds. He made the Celena that was do strange things. But he couldn't succeed without the help of the magicians. He had been disoriented, confused. Dead. They were dead.
They had been with him forever. His entire life, surrounded by these boys. The shadows in the night. Before Zaibach started their campaign against the world, legends were passed in the lands where the boys hunted, legends of wolf-children, a pack leader with red eyes. They learned to hunt like a team, they learned to melee. The wildness taught them civilization, by way of the reports they brought back. They learned to report on everything, remember with meticulous detail.
And he learned to appreciate them, learned to befriend them, albeit in a twisted way. They looked upon him as an older brother, a hero. A commander.
And then, they were given Guymelef suits. The freedom this brought was blessed. No more hiding in the shadows. The emperor gave them a name. Dragonslayers.
Allen gently touched Celena's shoulder. He had become used to her bouts of silent introspection.
"It was my fault, wasn't it?" she asked abruptly, turning, her eyes filling with tears.
"What was?" Allen asked, surprised.
"Mother's death."
"No." Allen said, taking her into his arms, "Never."
There was a flash, and a pillar of light grew in the distance. They turned to look at it.
Allen looked up, "Hitomi…" he said.
Celena was silent.
Hitomi, yes… that was her name. That girl… Dilandau had hated her, furious with her for everything she had done to him through Van. The protection she gave Van, the feelings she had for him, and that scar. He hated her, he hated Van… Those were the emotions he could stand. She had damaged his delicate vanity, and his untouchable status. He had been proud of his beauty, obsessed with his almost girlish features. He hadn't understood at the time, but maybe now it made more sense. But that didn't make a difference anymore. His face did not belong to him anymore, the scar had faded.
Celena idly put a hand to her cheek.
Then, Dilandau was in bed, staring out the window at the two moons above. Allen had told Celena that their world had come from the blue one, that Mystic Moon. He studied the strange landforms and oceans and the clouds that wrapped it like a blanket.
Celena turned within, interrupting his reverie, "Have you begun to understand?" she asked.
He was petulant, "I don't understand…" he said, bitterly, "I only remember, and sleep."
"Of course you do." she said, smiling at him.
"Why do you know things? Why do you understand so much… You've lived no longer than I did. We are half and half. Why don't you act six years old?" he asked.
"Did you act fifteen, when you were me?"
He was silent.
"You and I have been one. I learned from you, now you must learn from me." She explained slowly. It was as if she was speaking to a child.
"Why don't you just let me die?" he turned away, "I can join my friends, and you can live alone for once." He shook within himself, almost afraid of her answer. He had never wanted to die.
"How can one die who has never been alive?" she asked.
Dilandau had no answer for that.
He slept yet again.
Years passed, maybe many years. Dilandau was there, but he could not keep the time. He watched Celena grow, increasingly interested in the world around her. It became his goal to understand her. He tried to do so by watching the people around her, analyzing the way they treated her. There was not much else he could do. He was sometimes bored, but he was never alone.
Allen was often there, and Dilandau came to appreciate his company, somehow. He also came to appreciate Van, the man who had become his obsession, as a ruler and a human being. He began to see the good in people, he observed it as a strange quality about the eyes. He had known quiet people, he had known sad people, but he couldn't remember seeing the eyes of a person who had not killed. It was unnerving to change so much, in such a short time. He remembered the Dilandau who had been before, but he no longer understood him.
At times he resented it. During his awake times, he was often curt to Celena.
"I don't know why you teach me these things…" he told her once, his voice as harsh as sandpaper, "I will never be able to put them to use, locked away inside you forever."
Celena merely smiled in a self-satisfied way, "Perhaps. But I would like you to go to your reward understanding your crimes."
"So you condemn me to hell." he had said flatly.
"I try to save you from it." she corrected.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He scoffed, turning his back on her voice.
"Naturally." she said, directly at him.
At that point he was so angry that he surged inside her mind, attempting to force her out, but he had long since become too weak, and she too powerful for him to succeed. So he had merely sulkily turned his back on her and gone back to sleep.
So his days went on, and though he tried to retain his old arrogance, that note of crazed panic that was often in his voice, his insane manic energy, he found himself unable to. He lost the last of his anger when Celena fell in love.
He was a stranger, but he became a friend, and then more. Dilandau was detached from her feeling, but he still felt the impact of it on him. It bothered him for more than one reason.
"You've changed, haven't you Dilandau?" Celena asked him, awakening him one evening. She was reading a book in a chair by her bed. She spoke to the mirror on the vanity in front of her, but she was really talking to him.
"No." said Dilandau sullenly, looking at her through her own eyes.
"Of course you have. You didn't understand these feelings before. You had never experienced them." she said, marking her book and setting on the vanity.
"Tch. I had no use for them. I still don't." He said.
"You're such a child." she said, smiling.
"So what if I am?" he said, his voice biting.
She stayed silent, and brushed her hair in the vanity. Dilandau had not seen her face in a long time. She looked quite mature. He said nothing about it. He was still a child.
There was a wedding. Celena and her beau were married, and not long after, he became a Knight Caeli, like her brother.
That was the last thing of clarity Dilandau saw. He tried to panic as he realized his time became less and less, and that his vision through her had clouded, but he was weary of dark feelings, and then he just let go, hoping that he would sleep forever. He didn't really want to.
In the months after the wedding, Dilandau was asleep. He heard things, but he could no longer see, and he felt detached. Things drifted away from him. Memory, images, thought. He was merely drifting, hearing her heartbeats as he slumbered. He felt the person he was being filtered out, leaching away, but it was a welcome feeling, not a tragedy. All the wounds that would not heal drifted away, all the anger and loneliness he had felt in life fell away, leaves in Autumn.
When he woke, he didn't remember who he was. His vision was blurred. He heard voices, but he couldn't remember what they meant anymore. But it was cold…
"Beautiful…" said a sobbing voice, "My son." Dilandau thought he had heard the voice before, but he could not think.
There was a silence as well, its presence as audible as the cries of joy. What Dilandau had become did not see the amazement on the face of Allen Schezar, did not see the incredulous glances that passed from Allen to his sister, who was wan and sweating, but smiling, glowing as well. She could not speak quite yet, afraid she would sob with joy, but she merely let Allen see the measure of happiness in her face, and he did not speak.
Dilandau, when he finally saw her, was overjoyed, though he could not yet express it. He tried in vain to reach his arms toward her.
"You are Dilandau, my son." said the new mother to her child. And he was.
The years after that were like a dream to the boy, like the dreams he had had for countless years before. He loved flowers, he was amazed by Guymelefs, and he worshiped his Uncle Allen. He grew.
He was five, "Uncle Allen, Uncle Van!" he ran ahead, dragging his mother along.
The two of them had long since come to terms with the fact that the child who called them his Uncles had the red eyes and white hair of a long-ago enemy. They were no longer alarmed at the sight of him, because they didn't see the lust for blood in his eyes.
Dilandau was excited, because his mother said she was going to show him something wonderful. He could almost stand it no longer, the joy was threatening to burst through his chest, and so he had to run.
Van was worried. Celena had asked him to come, she had told him it would be important to him, and to Allen. But as he began to recognize the surroundings, he became increasingly anxious. He sidled up to Allen.
"Allen…" he said quietly.
"I know…" Allen said, stolidly.
"Aren't you worried about what might happen?" Van asked.
Allen looked thoughtful, and then he smiled distantly, "Not really."
Van blinked, "Why not?" he asked, "Don't you think the shock might make her revert?"
"For some reason," Allen said, "I can't think that this could all be coincidence."
Van was silent, thinking of a boy who could not be who he seemed.
But then, they were there, a wide plain that was a wasteland perhaps fifteen years ago, but now it was covered in beautiful flowers and grasses. Long ago, it was the site of a battle. The last battle of a terrible war.
As Allen and Van crested the hill, they sighted the place where they had fought that final battle. The ruins of a red Guymelef lay at the base of the hill, grown over with white flowers. Dilandau was climbing up the base of the Guymelef, his eyes filled with wonder.
Van ran down the hill, his chest filled with anxiety, "Celena…" he said, "Are you quite sure…"
Celena smiled at him, "Of course." She smiled up at Dilandau, who was standing at a vantage point on top of the Guymelef's wasted head. He looked around the valley, memorizing the lay of the land. But he found that he already recognized all that was around him. He wasn't really puzzled by this, it had happened to him all too often in his short life.
Celena smiled benevolently up at the voice within her that became her son. She waved Dilandau down from the Guymelef, and took him into her arms.
She smiled at his sunny scent, the silver hair that grew wild over his face. His eyes shone expectantly at her. She stroked his cheek, once.
"Dilandau, do you see that Melef?" She said, pointing to the custom red unit, its joints filled with grasses. It seemed to be a sleeping giant, unaware that he was being covered by vegetation.
Dilandau, sensing that this was important, only nodded.
Celena smiled a distant smile, "Long ago… This is where I began to love you…"
Dilandau didn't quite understand what she meant, but the presence of a small voice within him urged him to do something strange. He took his mother's face in his hands and softly kissed her forehead. Then, in a low voice, he whispered, "Thank you…"
Author's note: I like Dilandau! I wrote this fic in the middle of the night, so I had to go back and rework it. Then I didn't like the ending, which wasn't about Dilandau, but Celena, so I rewrote it. Then I felt bad because it didn't seem well-rounded enough without the Dragonslayers coming back as well, but I thought that was silly, pointless, and unlikely. Maybe I'll write a chapter two, if I feel the urge. If you want me to, by all means tell me so. My addy is DragonGirl17@AOL.com. Flame me if you like, but do so knowing that I will probably just point and laugh at it. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Bye!