The Road Not Taken
Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters. I do not make any money writing this story. No copyright infringement intended. This story, however, is mine, so if you want to use it for yourself, ask me nicely first.
Author's Note: Although I LOVED the Escaflowne TV series, I hated the fact that they killed off my three favourite characters: Folken, Naria and Eriya. Consider this fanfiction a what-if-situation. In this case a Folken-Naria-Eriya-centric "what if Folken had not enhanced the twins with Fortune Blood?" Needless to say, this story will not have the same ending as the series. Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.
I – The Force of Gravity between Men and Women
The world drowned.
For a short moment, the darkness of Zaibach bathed in lightning, before heavy rain plunged it back into oblivion. Thunder rolled lazily over the sky, a herald of doom. And yet, it was not the storm that woke him.
In his half-sleep, sprawled on his bed, face up, eyes closed, unmoving like a dead man, Folken Lacour de Fanel noticed a sudden and unfamiliar movement of the black sheets that covered his lower half. He felt them being lifted slowly, carefully, to his left and right. Something warm and soft snuggled under his left arm. Gentle purring reached his ears from both sides, assuring him that the dead appendage on his right was undergoing the same procedure. When the soft bundles had snuggled up to him completely – his sides now warm and tingling with the trembling fur against them – the movement finally stopped.
Strange as such behaviour might have been to others, Folken was not too surprised. Sleep was lost on him, replaced by heavy thinking and feelings of guilt and shame. He recalled times when Merle, the young orphaned tiger girl that Balgus had once brought to the palace – and his younger brother, Van, would sneak up to him in the dark, frightened by the anger and sadness of a stormy night. Back then, he had carried responsibility as a brother. Now he carried responsibility as a surrogate parent. Which was, essentially, the next stage in development from being an older brother.
Another bright flash of lightning blinded the land. This time, thunder was no growling rumble. It came as an explosion in the sky. The wrath of the gods had finally reached Gaea, assaulting the sensitive ears of the two kittens, making them cling even closer to him. A hint of a smile crept over his lips as the poor things mewed faintly in fear. Putting his arms around them to hold them closer, Folken opened his eyes. A choked gasp escaped his mouth.
Two pairs of brilliant eyes, one like rubies, the other like sapphires, shone at him from the dark. Full and soft lips of the same colours bent into sweet smiles, framed by silver and golden hair that tickled his bare chest. Delicate fingers traced his torso, slowly, sensually, sending a long-forgotten shudder of bliss through his altered body. It was then that he noticed what had caused him to catch his breath in a blend of shame and excitement. The clumsiness of the bodies against his had been replaced by shapely curves that pressed even closer against his sides. The cosy warmth coming from the two young girls next to him had turned into bristling heat emitted by the bodies of two grown-up women. The Soft and innocent purrs of sleepy kittens had become the growls of two full-grown cats, hungering for attention.
"Naria… Eriya…" He watched in silent disbelieve and excitement as the two leopard-women snuggled even closer, each of them flinging one long leg over his hip and flicking their black-tipped tails teasingly against his thighs. The feeling of their soft fur against his naked skin was exhilarating, surpassed only by the promise of their burning, curvy forms against his cold hull.
"We love you, Lord Folken." Naria's dark voice rumbled seductively, as she straddled him completely. "Every single part of you." Eriya added in her slightly higher voice, before bringing his metal fingers to her mouth and brushing them with her lips and tongue in an affectionate caress. He opened his mouth to speak, to object, but the words would not leave his tongue. An amused chuckle from the twins told him of the priceless look he must have had on his face. He had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation. Smiling at the rising tension inside his body, the twins brought their faces up to his, their lush lips only inches away from his sweet, wide-open mouth, as they spoke in unison. "Let us love you, Lord Folken."
-x-x-
He woke from his sleep in a slow, almost torturous manner, the glorious feeling of "his girls'" ripe, young lips upon his own fading into the cold kiss of a lonely night. As realisation seeped in, the Strategos of Zaibach found himself trying to suppress the sudden pangs of disappointment and sadness.
It was not the first lonely night in which this dream had come to haunt him. As a matter of fact, it had been almost a year since the leopard twins had offered themselves to him in such a blunt manner and it had been even longer since they had shown their interest in more subtle gestures. He supposed and hoped they thought that he had not been interested. He certainly did his best to make them believe it.
But truth was that he was a bloody liar.
Scowling at the shadows, Folken flung himself over onto his left. The truth was that he did want them. Badly. What men would not? He was not surprised that half his male underlings turned into mindless, drooling, hormone-raging fools every time the twins walked by in their oh-so innocent and unintentionally seductive manner. Even the ugly, old sorcerers glared after them and they HATED beast-people.
And then, of course, there was the way they approached HIM. Their loyalty and passion was intoxicating and tempting. He had thought that Zaibach had bled him dry off any emotion. He had made himself believe firmly in the idea that he was not living for his own sake anymore, but rather for the greater good, the grand design. To bring peace to Gaea and its people. To Van. A world where no tender young boy would have to shoulder the burden of war. A world where no little kittens would have their parents' lives taken away for no apparent reason at all. A world where no man would have to fight his own brother.
Yet the night betrayed him. Naria and Eriya betrayed him, exposing him as the dirty liar he was, through their honest and seductively innocent exclamations of what they believed to be "love". Emphasis was on the words "believed to be".
He brought his right hand up in front of his eyes slowly and scowled at the metal curse Zaibach had cast on him. How much he hated it… How many times he had tried to rip the cold thing off, only to succumb to the pain that paralysed him as the screws and bolts that attached it to his shoulders clawed at his bones and flesh.
Folken had long-since given up on thinking of himself as a man, let alone a prince of Fanelia. He was a thing now, a perverted creature half flesh, half steel. A walking nightmare. He doubted anybody could love such a monster. He doubted they really did. Naria and Eriya were strong and mature for their age, but still very young, innocent and clueless. They had – to great extent quite deliberately – not had much contact with the world of men in all its filthy and embarrassing "splendour", claiming that he was all they would ever need to make them happy.
Perhaps it was more than just a crush they had. He doubted it, but then again he had doubted that he would survive having his arm snapped off by a giant, fire-spewing dragon. And yet he had. Physically. Nonetheless, they deserved better. He had not saved them from certain death to have them spend the rest of their promising lives doting upon a man who was already knocking on death's door. They deserved someone who was more than just the shadow of a man who lived only to set things right for those he held dear before finally ending his miserable existence. Folken was sure he would greet death with open arms one day. Maybe not the process of dying, but most certainly the result. Oblivion.
He would know when his time was coming. He remembered his mother telling him stories about the wings of their people turning black as a sign of soon death. And so, ever since he had been brought to Zaibach, he kept spreading his wings first thing in the morning, every time hoping to find them pitch black as the night. Patience was one of the few virtues the gods had blessed him with, but the nagging desire to see his wings turn black remained. Until that day, he would keep on suffering, ashamed of himself, ashamed of his treason against his former kingdom, his brother and his two beloved girls. That, in his complicated and troubled mind, was an apt punishment for his sins. It was all he was worthy off. Suffering and temptation begetting more suffering.
Living death.
-x-x-
His lips approached hers carefully, slowly, until he could feel her sweet, faint breath on his flesh. He felt her strong and yet tender hands sneak around his side and up his back, pressing her lush curves even closer to his cold body. There was tension. He could feel it sending shocks through her graceful form. He could feel her fur bristling softly under his touch, even through her tight armour. A cat's version of goose bumps. It is just an experiment. He wanted to repeat the phrase in his head, but he knew the experiment would fail if he did. He had to think of her. He would kiss her and then it would be over.
He threw his resolutions out of the mental window the moment their lips met. The name "Hitomi" vanished from his mind. Eriya. Eriya. Eriya. Warmth spread from his lips and back, where his golden angel had sunk her claw into his clothes. It spread throughout his body, fuelled by desires that he had tried to suppress for so long. He wanted more. He wanted to savour her. He wanted to give in. To be weak again, just for once, a creature of flesh and blood.
"Eriya…Lord Folken…" The voice of his silver angel suddenly rose in the depths of his mind, causing Folken to break the kiss, his eyes slightly widened in shock. Was this the bond that the two twins shared? To feel each other even when they were not together? He could still taste both their lips on his, even though Naria was standing far away from them, surrounded by the sorcerers monitoring the experiment. Or her silver curves. The voice in the back of his mind joked, but he blocked it out. The intensity of the twins' emotions had been overwhelming. He had nearly let down his guard.
"Thank you, Lord Folken."
"Now we can die in peace."
"Die?" The word slid off Folken's tongue in a desperate voice before he even knew what he was saying. He turned around quickly and came face to face with his two feline worshippers. The smiles curving their lips were identical and genuine, showing a kind of happiness that he had not allowed himself to feel for almost ten years. The sweet, yet aching urge to respond in kind manifested inside him, but something was off. He could feel it. "What do you mean – die?" He eventually asked.
"It is alright, Lord Folken." Eriya purred in her usual, relaxed voice, while taking her typical place to his right. "We are happy we were allowed to spend all those years in your service." Naria added, mirroring her sister's movement.
"We will always believe in you, my Lord."
"We will always love you."
"What do you mean - die?" Anxiety settled deep inside his heart. He had never heard his precious girls talk like that. As he looked into their ruby and sapphire eyes, anxiety evolved into utter sorrow and fear. There was love in those eyes. Genuine love, like he had seen in his parents' and brother's eyes long ago, but also sadness. Terrible grief at the passionate feelings that he had made them believe were not mutual. "Naria… Eriya…"
"Do not doubt and fear any longer, Lord Folken."
"Believe and you will find happiness."
"This is…"
"… our last request." Eriya completed her sister's sentence, before closing her eyes in defeat. A crystal tear ran down her golden cheek, leaving a fine crack along its trail. Folken watched in horror as their graceful bodies shattered into thousands of pieces, falling from his hand like sand.
-x-x-
"NO!" This time, Folken's awakening was no slow, creeping process of transition from one state of consciousness to the other. Shock and despair had driven him straight into a sitting position, his left hand clutching the dark sheets in sheer horror. A dream. A godforsaken nightmare.
Fighting to keep his eyes open, Folken fell back into the pillows. He was mildly aware of the fact that his breathing was heavy, his body soaked in cold sweat, his heart racing, ready to explode inside his chest. His eyelids felt heavy, but he dared not close his eyes, fearing that the pictures would crawl back into his mind. The sadness in their eyes. Their perfect forms shattering into thousands of pieces right in his hands. It had felt so real. So awfully real.
-x-x-
"Lord Folken! Snap out of it!"
His attention was back immediately, but his confusion remained. He was back in Fanelia, in the sparring room, together with an obviously unnerved Balgus. Just what in the name of Atlantis was happening to him? A quick check proved his assumptions right. His right arm was still there, flesh and blood, clinging to the royal sword. His hair fell naturally onto his forehead, instead of being carefully swept up. "I am back?"
"Back from the Land of the Sleepy Heads." Balgus snorted in response. "If I attacked you now, you'd be dead, my Prince. Your lesson is over." The royal warrior left the room in slow, but firm steps, leaving Folken behind to glare at his right hand in disbelieve. "This HAS to be a dream."
"Folken."
"Mother?" He turned around slowly, his sword falling to the floor as his fist unclenched. She was really standing there, a picture of the Draconians' glory. His mother. Warmth that he had long-since forgotten spread through his body again. "Mother…" Unable to suppress the sorrow inside his heart any longer, Folken sank to his knees, his head hung in shame and defeat. "This is a dream, right? You are dead. Balgus is dead. Naria and Eriya, too. And Folken Lacour de Fanel as well."
"Yes to the first, yes to the second and yes to the third." Her voice was just like he remembered it, as she knelt down in front of him, raising a hand to his cheek. Calm. Loving. Forgiving. When she lifted his chin, he saw the oh-so typical everything-will-be-alright-smile that she used to give him whenever things went wrong. "No to the fourth and no to the fifth."
"Mother…"
"Why are you still fighting, Folken?"
"What?" He looked at her in sheer confusion. The question was short, simple and sent arrows straight through his heart. Why. Why was always a good question. "For Van." He answered in honesty. "Van is too tender to live in a world of war. I will create a world without war, where he can live free from the burdens and sorrow of mindless killing."
"And that is why you are mindlessly killing now?" As her son stared at her in confusion, a sad smile stretched across Varie's face. "Oh… Folken… my dear Folken…" She caressed his cheek gently. "You have always been such a good boy. Always trying to right all the wrongs of the world on your own, to shoulder all the burdens of this life. But the path to hell is paved with good intentions, Folken, and you are dangerously close to straying from the right path and betraying yourself."
"No, mother." He shook his head in denial. "Dornkirk will soon use the power of Atlantis to create a fate of happiness for all of us. I have almost done it. Can't you see? I've almost done it."
"Yes, Folken. You have almost succeeded in ruining your life and the happiness of those you hold dear." Varie watched the excited smile fade from her son's face. "Folken… you think that there must be personal sacrifices to achieve what is truly important, but you are so focused that you are missing the point about life. There IS no such thing as a difference between personal and important. The Power of Atlantis shapes the future out of people's wishes. People may say that they wish for peace and happiness, but the seed of hatred is planted in all of us. You can't force people to truly believe and wish for the good of all, just like you cannot right all the wrongs of the world on your own. You cannot make people happy by causing them grief and sorrow."
He wanted to speak, but could not find the words. Silence fell between them as Folken got up and turned away. But he was trying so hard. He was trying so hard to do things right. What, just WHAT was he doing wrong then? From behind him, tender arms hugged his waist.
"You are asking yourself the wrong question, Folken." Varie felt her son tense in confusion. She could feel the fatigue eating up his body from the inside. He was weary of this. Weary of this life. Weary of this burden. There was nothing that she could do to help him. "Always remember Folken: as long as we are loved, we are not alone. Look around, Folken. Look around and ask yourself why you are neither lucky, nor happy nor blessed with success, while others are, and you will find your answers."
Taking a deep sigh, Folken reached for his mother's hands, but only found his own garments. Startled, he turned around only to see her fade away into the shadow from which she had ascended to guide him. "Mother-"
"Look around you, Folken!" Her body had almost vanished into the shadows. Her voice was distant, like a far away bell ringing one last time. "Look around you, Folken! You must not close your eyes to the truth! As long as we believe, there is hope."
A. N.: Read and review?