If Only You Knew
Written by: Meghanna Starsong
Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shouji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fan fiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have a great adoration for them.
Author's Notes: This one shot takes place during Episode 8, following the scene where Van and Hitomi watch the night sky on the border between Freid and Asturia. This contains adult language and mild sexuality. In short, this fiction is kind of on the border between ratings, so I opted to go with the "teen" one.
Edited 3/13/2016: I have gone back through the text to polish up grammar, cohesion, and style. Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows on this story. Some of you have asked if there will be more chapters to this fiction, but I have decided to keep "If Only You Knew" as it is, a one shot. Right now, my time is taken up with my larger Escaflowne story, "Soulmates." If you have the chance, please check it out!
"""""""
Planting her palms on the ground, Hitomi jerked upright from her sleeping position. She panted for breath, her bosom rising and falling, her pulse irregular. She balled her glove-clad hands into tight fists. Her fingers dug burrows into the ground, dirtying the white gloves. Swallowing hard, she craned her head back to peer up through the canopy of tree foliage, seeking some answer from the sky. Two eyes shown remorselessly down upon her, the blue Mystic Moon and its snowy companion. The stars were dim and distant, as out of reach as her home in Japan was.
The winged man. That dream again, she thought. What does it mean? Why do I keep seeing him? The darkness weighed as heavily upon her as the dream did. Shutting her eyes, she laid her head in her filthy hands. Perspiration dribbled down her forehead and the nape of her neck. The starched Asturian dress stuck to her body. The pink material itched terribly where it adhered to her breasts, belly, and the swell of her hips.
The image of the shadowy angel swooping down towards her replayed in her mind. She felt the scrape of his strong, callused hand clasping hers. The baby-powder feathers flit around her, brushing her cheeks and limbs. Then her legs shook from the up thrust of the rebelling earth. Large boulders cracked like glass beneath her, grating against other rocks and collapsing down into nothingness. She fell into an abyss with the rubble, forsaken, only to have the angel rescue her. He drew her up to a warm, solid chest and into safe arms.
Who was he?
Hitomi's throat clogged with tears of frustration. He was a phantom, a figment of her imagination. Despite that truth, a feeling inside of her coursed turbulently, persistently. It refused to be denied or turned aside by logic.
Then again, what was logical about being transported to an invisible world parallel to Earth? Some would say that was enough to get her locked up in a psychiatric ward for the rest of her life, prodded by needles, and high on drugs.
Was she losing her mind?
No, she didn't think so.
Focusing on the present, she surveyed the makeshift camp, if it could be called that. Van, Merle, and Hitomi had fled Asturia when attacked by Zaibach. They had brought nothing with them but the clothes they wore and whatever items were in their pockets. For hours, they had flown with Escaflowne in dragon mode, until Van had been certain that they were not being followed. When Merle and Hitomi had complained, in an unusual unison, that they were tired, he had agreed at last to land. With the girls clinging to his back, he had touched down and converted Escaflowne back into a guymelf. The trio had settled in for the night as best they could.
Van had picked this particular patch of forest, because it gave the runaways the best aerial camouflage. All Hitomi knew was, even with the current situation, the scenery was beautiful. The encompassing forest was serene and still, wise in its simplicity. Tall trees loomed over the kneeling Escaflowne and sheltered the group beneath a roof of jade leaves. The scent of their bark, cinnamon-like, wafted about the camp; it was somehow calming. The small fire Van had lit prior to Hitomi dozing off smoldered, a collection of orange coals. It continued to feed on charred, skeletal wood chips. The gargantuan Escaflowne glowed eerily in its illumination. The robot was like a marble sculpture at the moment, beautiful, frozen.
Hitomi's gaze was drawn to Escaflowne's right leg, where a pile of tan fur, floppy ears, and twitching tail rested. Merle was curled up on the machine's knee, her head pillowed by her forepaws. Her shoulder-length pink hair obscured her heart shaped face. Judging from the rise and fall of the catgirl's dun gown, she was dreaming peacefully. Plastic wrappers from leftover snacks were scattered amongst the grass blades below Merle. The sneaky catgirl had nabbed them from Hitomi's duffle bag at some point and gorged herself on them that evening.
Below the catgirl was Van with his back propped up against the guymelf's ankle. He was facing Hitomi, his right hand resting lightly on the ornamental hilt of his sword. His lashes made sooty crescents on his cheeks. Tendrils of his black hair fanned his brow and cast darker patches over an already solemn face. He had his left hand under his right armpit, his legs uncrossed and straight before him. The muggy night air did not seem to affect him the way it did Hitomi. His crimson shirt was loose on his chest. The laces were unbound, and a swathe of his golden-brown collarbone was visible. His was a slender body toned from swordplay and manual labor.
He's kind of cute like that. He's almost cuddling that sword. Why wouldn't he though? It's his last piece of Fanelia and his family. Still, I'm not surprised he frowns even in his sleep, she mused.
Poor, grouchy Van.
His willful mouth was relaxed, at least as much as it would ever be. His lips were peculiarly full, the bottom more so than the top, and glossy in the moons' light. Some strange aura permeated the air around him. Hitomi squinted her eyes to make it out more clearly. The energy was in constant motion, flickering like invisible flames, weaving like wind along a craggy mountainside. It lacked the charm and sophistication of Allen's energy or the friendliness of Amano's. No, Van's aura was something different, something she couldn't quite explain.
Blushing, Hitomi realized she was staring unabashedly at Van for much too long. Getting up, she stretched her cramped muscles and reached her arms over her head. Chancing a second glance up, Hitomi was amazed at the transformed night. The heavens were alive instead of cruel and distant. They were gorgeous, brightly shining with galaxies, spinning. The stars twinkled like glow-in-the-dark stickers through the leafy treetops. The bulbous Mystic Moon and its lustrous mate shimmered. She was tempted to reach out and touch them.
Van grunted, disrupting her reverie.
The vision of the angel seemed less real to Hitomi now. Her mood had also improved, but she doubted she would sleep again anytime soon. Besides, she was smelly and sweaty from the lengthy flight and her dream-induced state. She remembered there was a river nearby where Merle had gotten drinking water for the group. Van had explained it came from the melted snows of a nearby mountain range, and since it was summer, the river was narrow and tame, unlike during the spring thaw. The Gaean midsummer heat was stifling, and a cool bath was just what she needed.
On tiptoe, Hitomi snuck from the camp and down a nearly imperceptible woodsman's trail. Cloaked by the shadows of the dark forest, she took to jogging, an indistinct silhouette. Overgrown bushes snatched at her legs. She dodged around huge tree trunks and jumped protruding, gnarled roots. Her ears picked up the gurgling of the river. She found herself upon a clearing and a sandy riverbank. The bubbling water by moons' light was glass in perpetual motion and the river a silvery ribbon. Removing her Nike sneakers and socks, Hitomi wiggled her toes in the damp sand. The moisture felt good on the soles of her feet.
She knelt by the river's edge, removed the soiled gloves, and dipped her bare hands into the river. Cupping them, she raised a handful of water to her lips. She drank the clear, sweet liquid until her thirst was quenched. Satisfied, she proceeded to splash her arms and wet her face. Water dripped onto her dress and dotted it with freckles. Checking over her shoulder that she was alone, Hitomi stripped off the offending garment. She carefully soaked and scrubbed it in the river, humming to herself as she worked. When she was through, she stood, wrung the dress out, and hung it on a low branch to dry. Clad in her full-body shift, bra, and panties, she paused and considered an idea, feeling daring and exposed.
She dipped her feet into the river up to her ankles, the cold seeping into her skin. Goosebumps rose up along her calves. Hitomi waded more fully into the river, squealing at its frigid temperature. Its playful current tugged at her thighs and arms. She fought it and bobbed around, letting her body adjust to the coolness. As the water became more bearable, she wriggled out of her lacy shift and undergarments. She rolled them into a ball and threw them onto the sandy bank. Inhaling, she pinched her nose and submerged herself in the river. Hitomi propelled herself back up to the surface, sputtering and trembling in the swirling rapids.
For a while, she flopped around in the river like a clumsy fish. The water cleansed her body of perspiration and grime, leaving her feeling refreshed. As she relaxed, Hitomi freed her mind. She forgot about the demolished Fanelia, the murders of innocent people, and the relentless Zaibach Empire. Allen and Millerna's balcony kiss she stored in a cubbyhole somewhere in a remote part of her brain. The burden of her visions and the pendant she willed away, vanishing them for a time. The loss of her home, family and friends, everything worrying her, Hitomi separated herself from it all.
This moment was hers.
Content, Hitomi floated on her back and watched the sky dance. The river towed her downstream like an oversized stick. Lethargy cat walked through her, soothing her. I should go back soon. I don't want Merle or Van to wake up and worry, she thought.
Hitomi paddled back to her spot on the bank and sloshed out of the river. Shivering in a breeze, she squeezed out her underwear and dried herself with the shift. She checked to see how wet the dress was after slinging her bra and panties up beside it. It was a little damp, and it gave her the perfect excuse to loiter. She laid down on a patch of cushioning grass, nude and blissful. Nibbling her lip, she worried briefly about someone finding her in such a state of undress. But the heavens called to Hitomi, lovingly, achingly, and their music dispelled any reservation she had. Licking her lips, she hummed along with the night's song, accompanied by the chirping crickets and the wind rustled reeds.
And she was happy.
Hitomi had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed singing. She was in chorus on Earth. It was her favorite activity besides track. Lately, she hadn't had many reasons to sing, not after being kidnapped by a beam of light, not with a world on the verge of war, not with death hounding her heels.
The ruby-kissed pendant around her neck suddenly flared, the links of its gold chain clinking. Hitomi heard a startling, gong-like noise in her head. Something warned her that she was not alone. Croaking frogs went mute, and the ethereal spell of the night was lost. Cautiously, she raised herself up on her elbows, poking the top of her head over the plush riverbed weeds. She did not see anyone by the river in the moonlight and sighed in relief. As a precaution, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Her jaw went slack, and she hunkered down in the grass. Mortified, she blushed seven different shades of scarlet, praying that the intruder would go away.
Van was by the tree that held her clothes.
"""""""
Van heard Hitomi shifting restlessly across from him. She cried out in her slumber, uneased by something only she could see. Whatever she dreamt of, she roused herself from it, jackknifing into a sitting position and gasping. He could see her through the tips of his lashes by the fire's side. Its coals lent her ivory flesh an orange gleam, as if molten lava danced beneath her skin. The Asturian dress hugged curves he had not been aware of her possessing until she wore it. He curiously surveyed the jiggle of her breasts as she moved about, heat seeping into his chest and loins.
Hitomi cast her own eyes in Van's direction. He completely shut his and regulated his air intake. For a time, he heard nothing, but he continued to feel her watching him. She sighed, her voice high as a bird's wispy trill. Although she meant to be quiet, obviously assuming Merle and he were sleeping, his ears detected the crunching of her shoes. He strained his hearing as her footsteps grew fainter. Van waited several minutes, but she did not return. His burgundy eyes flicked open, and he glared up at the stars.
What the hell was she doing, sneaking off at this time of the night? Didn't she know that she could be in danger if she wandered too far from the camp? What if Zaibach sent guymelfs to pursue them, and he couldn't reach her in time? She would be helpless against them, as easily crushed as an ant. Not to mention, there was plenty of predatory wildlife around the border of Asturia and Freid. A defenseless Mystic Moon girl was a tasty snack for them.
Maybe she has to relieve herself, he consented. I'll give her some more time.
He fluidly stood, buckled his sword belt, and situated the sheathed sword. His back muscles complained, and he massaged a cramp in his thigh. He retrieved a couple of good-sized logs from the pile at Escaflowne's foot and dumped them onto the dying fire. Several sparks later, a cluster of flames popped up along the dry tinder, biting into the new meal with starving fangs. Blowing his raven-wing bangs out of his eyes, Van pivoted on his boot heels and checked on Merle. She was at the highest elevation possible, while still being within range of him, this being Escaflowne's armored leg.
He shook his head at the memory of how Merle had baited Hitomi that evening. She had stolen items from the odd carrying bag Hitomi brought with her from the Mystic Moon. The catgirl had helped herself to foreign foods in shiny wrappings and a queer, boxy item that Hitomi had referred to as a pager. The two had squabbled over Hitomi's possessions like two crows over ripe berries. Secretly amused by the girls, he had hid a smile at their immature antics.
Those two are such trouble, he mused to himself. I wonder what Hitomi is doing? She's taking much too long to just pee. She probably got herself lost. What a strange girl.
Van lit a thick length of wood from the tinder pile and held it before him, a temporary torch. As he headed off after Hitomi, a drowsy voice called out to him from Escaflowne. "Lord Van? Where're you going? Is everything okay?"
"Sssh. It's all right, Merle," he quietly soothed his friend. "I'm going to get Hitomi. I think she might have lost her way."
Merle's reply was much more alert and tart. "Really, Lord Van, that Mystic Moon girl is so dumb! She's just interrupting our sleep, you know. You should just let her be. After all, she can't go too far, not with Zaibach..."
Van allowed his brief, crooked grin to soften his features. He picked up on the uneasiness in Merle's tone. "Stay close to Escaflowne. This won't take long. I'll be right back with Hitomi."
Merle grumbled about "weird Mystic Moonlings" as Van left the camp. He stalked Hitomi's path through the trees, navigating by torchlight, sloppy tracks, and disturbed shrubs. Among the ancient trees, he almost felt as if he were back in Fanelia, before it had burned. He frowned and grit his teeth, reminding himself to focus on Hitomi and not that betrayal. She moved fast, sprinting along like a doe. He caught up with her at the river. She was posed, statuesque, on the bank, studying the water.
Van could hardly suppress his annoyance. He would be resting by the fire if she had not run off so irresponsibly. He lingered at the tree line, considering a snide comment to lessen his own irritation. When Hitomi, still unaware of his presence, took off her dress, any thought of rudeness evaporated from his mind. She peeled off the ripped gown in a sure, single motion. She was clad in some filmy cloth that brushed her thighs, only just passing the bottom of her buttocks. Her behind was full and soft looking. Her hips were round and legs limber. Clumps of her cornstalk-colored hair stuck up, feathery, and so tempting.
His breath caught painfully in his throat. He stood, aghast, inquisitive, and ashamed. She washed her dress in the river and hung it up, all innocence, while he greedily drank in the sight of her. He could hear Balgus's voice lecturing him on his ungentlemanly behavior. Van agreed; what he was doing was wrong. He was acting no better than their former traveling companion, the lecherous moleman. He needed to let Hitomi know he was there and save them both from further indecency. Van summoned spit into his mouth, swallowed, and armed himself with another barbed greeting.
And no sound came out.
Hitomi waded into the river and carelessly freed herself from the rest of her attire. Van's eyes bulged in their sockets at her actions, betraying his interest. He tried not to stare at her, yelled at himself that she was under his protection and trusted him. His lewd body had other ideas. Her nudity stimulated something primordial within him, a lust for deeds done under cover of darkness, in a lover's eager arms. Desire burned through him as hot as any fire, as treacherous as any storm. The crotch of his khaki breeches strained to contain the bulge growing there.
He had never seen a girl, no, a young woman, unclothed before in reality. As heir to a throne, the naked form was no stranger to him. He certainly had seen enough nude figures of Gaean gods and goddesses in paintings and sculptures. As children, Van and Merle had taken baths together when his mother, Varyie, was alive. Obviously, he knew the bodies of men and women were, well, different. And yet, this was his first time looking upon the female physique after its pubescent changes, so alive, so ripe. His fingers tingled with need.
Of course, Balgus had informed him of what went on between a man and woman sexually. He was well educated on the technicalities of conceiving babies and what happened to boys and girls during adolescence. Being curious about his own body, he certainly had fondled his own sex, experience teaching him what was good and what was not. However, Van had never fully reckoned with his own burgeoning manhood; he had never truly desired another, outside of awkward fantasies, until now.
The sheer lunacy of his hormones took him by harsh surprise. Van finally recognized why he was so possessive of Hitomi and jealous of the men in her life. He could at last name the exasperating feeling that goaded him to beat Allen, the playboy knight, to a bloody mess. He knew why Hitomi whispering the name of a guy from the Mystic Moon wounded him so much.
Van wanted her for himself.
She was an alabaster spirit in the twin moons' light. Her figure was fuller than the Asturian dress had hinted at. Her breasts were the perfect size to fit in his palms, the areolas as rose pink as her lips, the nipples like flower buds. The column of her neck begged for Van to kiss and suck on it. He imagined running his fingers up her arms, over her shoulders, and down her stomach. Much to his disgrace, he wondered what was beyond her navel, the part of her form that the water withheld from his greedy gaze.
Oh, please, gods, don't do this to me, he groaned inwardly at his penis.
Despite his prayer, she still bathed in the river, and Van, red-faced and hard, could only gawk at her. Somehow, he maintained enough common sense to douse the torch in the river and slink back into the forest's shade. Covetously, he kept a vigil over the girl from the Mystic Moon as she played in the water. His heart thumped in his left breast. A tender, stabbing yearning lanced through him. It took all of his will power not to half stumble to her and take possession of her. He would drag her down inside of himself, molding her to his manhood, bending her to flow through his arteries and veins.
It was wrong.
It was impossible.
Yet he longed to go to her, to touch her, to please them both.
Hitomi ceased her games in the mercurial water and emerged from it. She wrung out the foreign articles of clothing and placed them beside the gown on a branch. This time, Van got a good view of her body from front to back. Though he knew it was improper, he glued his wine-brown eyes to the alluring mound between her hips. Her womanhood was about the size of his hand with a secretive slit down its middle. A bead of sweat slipped down his upper lip. He licked it, tasting its saltiness, and his groin pressed harder against the confines of his cream pants.
With her clothes apparently too wet yet, she flopped into a cocoon of grass to wait. They stroked her intimately in places he could only fantasize about. She must feel so soft, he thought, almost delirious.
Hitomi was not beautiful or charming in a conventional sense. She was not packaged in silks or had flowing tresses. Her cheeks were not dabbed with rouge, nor were her eyes outlined in kohl. She was not a well-bred noblewoman, who twitted about court fashions, flattered whose company she was in, and plotted for a royal husband. No, Hitomi liked her face in the wind and the sun in her, very close cropped, hair. She did not need makeup, because her own natural character was attractive enough. Forget the games of intrigue that aristocrats played; Hitomi would never keep up with them. She was a horrible liar, too earnest and kind for her own good.
She was the most devastatingly real individual he had ever met. To her, he was not a kingdom-less monarch, not a failed samurai, not a leftover heir. Hitomi treated Van like a normal person, as just…himself.
It was Hitomi's song, not the attraction of her flesh, which coaxed Van from his vantage point. His booted feet walked towards her of their own accord, tromping through twig, grass, and sand. Entranced, the tension melted out of his form with the music of her voice. Van closed in on her like an unwilling predator upon prey. All he could think of was to get nearer to her, to hear her better, to see the tranquility of her face, the proof of her womanhood.
Then something alerted Hitomi to his presence. Her head popped up out of its tent of weeds. She had her back to him, panning the area ahead of her for an intruder. No one was there. She stiffened and then angled her head back over her shoulder. A mixture of fear and astonishment flit across her face when she saw him.
Damn it, Van groaned. He hid his arousal and the tempest of emotions in his eyes by retrieving her clothes.
"""""""
Hitomi brought her arms reflexively up over her breasts. She slunk into the high grass. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and her face was a deepening shade of crimson.
"V-Van?" she whispered.
She heard him purposefully striding towards her. She rolled around to face him, knees clamped and raised to hide her loins. The king grabbed her damp dress, ignoring her underwear, and bunched it into his gloved fist. Shocked, she gaped at him as he took off his red shirt, his sinewy arms flexing. His slim, hairless chest and abdomen rippled. His pants rode low on his lean hips, a trail of dark hair running down his navel and vanishing beneath his waistband.
"What're you doing? Go away!" Hitomi shrieked. "Pervert!"
He didn't respond verbally to her, but something raw flashed across his face, his eyes feverish. A deep rooted, female instinct warned her that she was in danger. She crawled backwards on her butt. The skin on her posterior rubbed against the sandpapery earth, leaving a discolored rash on her bum.
"Stay right there! And keep your clothes on! I'm warning you!"
Her words had no effect on him. Van kept coming, his lips curled back wolfishly, and she continued to crab walk away from him. Her mouth parted, choking for raspy breaths. Her hand scraped across a pebble. Despite her mortification, she gave up covering her body from his eyes. In a last defense, she clenched a handful of sand and rocks and lobbed them at him. Van put his arm up to shield his face from the barrage. The bicep in that arm tensed and hardened, and the little stones pinged off of it. This minuscule display of strength did funny things to her lower belly. Hot butter poured into her nether regions, and her limbs felt shaky, weak.
She knew what she had to do.
Run away.
Hitomi got her legs under her, breasts bouncing, and readied herself to run. An unyielding arm snaked around her waist and jerked her back into a human wall. She was spun around with such force her teeth snapped together. She thrust her hands into Van's face and kicked at his shins. Her dress was abandoned at their feet, although the hand at her waist kept ahold of his shirt. Van's free hand clamped onto her right wrist and yanked it behind her into the small of her back. Hitomi arched into her stronger opponent, their thighs lodged together. Her left hand poised for a sound slap, but Van's expression stopped her agitated movements.
His garnet eyes were ablaze. They mesmerized and froze her in position. She smelled his scent, a combination of wood smoke, cut grass, and maleness. The contours of his face were eclipsed, mysterious, but his eyes shown jewel-like. The warmth from his figure heightened her senses. He released her wrist, both hands now resting on her waist, above the jut of her hips. His palms on her skin were calloused and velvety, like the pads of a cat's paws.
Her lips parted in anticipation, and her eyelashes drooped down to conceal the emerald of her eyes. He's going to kiss me, she realized.
Van threw his shirt in her face.
Ripping the garment off her head, Hitomi glared at him. "What was that for, you jerk?"
"To wear." He gave her his cautious, lopsided smile.
"Who says I want your stinky shirt?" she barked.
Van cocked his head. "No one. I thought it would be better than standing around naked or in a wet dress."
"I will have you know that I am not-" she half-fumed and then halted. "I-I mean, I am...but you...your shirt..."
"Put it on." His tone was quiet, insistent.
The way he gazed at her brought a deeper flush to her already pink skin and reminded her of what a vulnerable state she was in. Deciding the shirt was a good idea after all, Hitomi crammed it over her head. The hemline went to her mid-thigh, but it was enough to preserve her modesty. Sticking out her jaw, she stooped, retrieved her dress, and issued a hasty, refined retreat to get her underwear.
Or so she had planned.
She stubbed her toe on a rock and yelped. Losing her balance, she stumbled backwards into Van. He was there for her, his arms encircling her shoulders, steadying her. His chest flattened her breasts. It was comfortable, half laying, half leaning on him. His chest was compact, sculpted.
"Hitomi?" His voice was husky in her ear, jangling her nerves.
"Y-Yes?" she breathed.
"Are you all right?"
"I-I think so."
Curtly, he stepped away. "Let's go. Merle will be worried."
The moment was spoiled, erased.
While Hitomi put her undergarments and slip on behind a tree, Van hovered a few meters from her with the pink dress. In this brief privacy, she tried to sort through her mixed feelings and wriggle her feet into socks and shoes.
"""""""
Van trailed after Hitomi on the way back to the camp. He got a peculiar satisfaction from seeing her wear his shirt. He studied her profile, soaked light brown hair, solemn, azure-green eyes. She hugged herself and kept pace just slightly ahead of him. Brooding, he squeezed her dress in between his hands, wringing the last drops of moisture from it. He had almost kissed her a few moments ago. Hell, he had almost done more than that to her.
Does she know? Can she possibly guess how badly I want her? he speculated, somewhere between despair and desire. I can't though. I won't hurt her. I swore to protect her and somehow return her to the Mystic Moon. And I will! I won't go back on my word.
But, oh, how he wanted her though.
He groaned in frustration.
Alarmed, Hitomi stopped and asked, "Van, are you in pain? Did I hurt you back there? Scratch you or-"
"I'm fine," he snapped. "But I'd be much better if I was sleeping."
Hitomi snorted and marched off, her chin high. She was mad at him again. Maybe that was good for now. She would maintain her distance, and he could recover his snippets of dignity.
His eyes bore into her retreating back. "If only you knew..."
"""""""
The End