When Distorted Destinies Collide
Disclaimer: I own nothing of "The Vision of Escaflowne" or of "Avatar: the Last Airbender." But the dangerous and hare-brained idea of bringing these two together is the product of my twisted imagination.
Note: I felt like doing a small piece for Dilandau's birthday again. This might turn out to be a yearly thing. Maybe, maybe not. As it is, I was inspired and I had some little time on my hands with which I could whip this up. It's quite dark to say the least, but it's Dilandau after the series, and that always depresses me.
And it features another favorite character of mine, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. Considering both of their fates at the end of their respective series, I suppose they would dwell in the same kind of misery.
The style is a bit strange, since it isn't a regular narrative or dialogue but kind of the stream of consciousness of two people. But it's mostly from Azula's point of view. I hope this doesn't repulse you all.
Although this looks like a springboard for a longer story, I have no plans (nor time nor strength) to make it one. For the time being (and that might be quite long), it will remain as a one-shot.
EDIT: This was supposed to be posted yesterday but this site would not let me log in. Sorry for the delay.
--
She was shivering again, in that cold, dark cell, hugging her knees tightly and staring into the void.
They had left her alone at last, alone with her dark thoughts and twisted memories, the deafening silence smothering her.
She had grown so pale and thin, having to be force-fed all the time and having had all sorts of medications administered to her. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was drawn. It looked as if she had aged ten years in the past ten months.
Her face was streaked with the stains of dried tears from the constant weeping she did, over what she was no longer sure.
Her throat was dry and sore from all the screaming and shrieking she did, but the words that came out of her mouth were barely understandable.
The crying and screaming just happened. Even she had forgotten why.
And she had grown weak, so frail that she could barely even recognize herself. She could barely create a flame with her fingertips. She wasn't sure if this was a side effect of all the suppressive drugs being injected in her or of her own weakening will or even both.
The room was bare. There was nothing in it that she could use as a weapon. Not to hurt others.
Not to hurt herself.
People came and went. She never bothered to see who they were, whether it was her brother coming to pity her or doctors coming to examine her.
She didn't care.
She hated them all.
Azula narrowed her tired eyes at the wall before her. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. The loose material of her hospital gown felt cool against her skin.
She hated this place.
"I just want to get out of here," she muttered bitterly, closing her eyes tightly, to shut out the room.
She remained that way for several minutes, but she could not remain that way for long. As slowly as she could, she reopened her eyes.
And the room was gone.
There was sharp intake of breath. Her eyes widened suddenly and she sat up, immediately as alert as she could be.
She was sitting there, in the midst of complete darkness, a pitch black void, an endless space of nothingness.
She looked around her and saw nothing. It was as if she was completely swallowed by a shadow.
"What is this place? Where am I?" she cried frantically.
"Nowhere. You are nowhere," a voice replied.
She immediately turned her head to seek the voice but saw nothing. Azula was both unnerved and perplexed.
She clutched at her head, pulling her hair.
"I really must be going mad," she thought, and ironically, that was the first sane idea she had had in a long time.
"Is this a dream?" she muttered, more to herself.
"No, just an endless nightmare," once again, the voice replied.
"Who are you?" she cried out angrily.
She heard a soft chuckle in reply. Her temper rose.
"Show yourself!" she ordered, releasing a large flame into the void, and surprised at her own power.
The flames split as they encountered a barrier. The fire burned around a solitary figure, not touching the person, but seemingly avoiding contact.
It was then that she saw him. A tall, thin, pale figure of a man, with his back to her. He wore a white under shirt and a pair of black pants.
He still seemed to be a young man although his hair was completely silver. She had never seen anyone like him before. He did not turn to face her, but instead seemed more interested in the fire she had just created, that now surrounded him.
"Fire. Everything burning. How beautiful, how I've missed that," he whispered with strange satisfaction.
Since he was ignoring her, Azula decided to get his attention by launching fire at him once more. And again, the man was untouched by the flames, which simply dissipated around him.
But this time, he turned to face her but his face was still shrouded in shadow. She could not see his eyes. There was a small scar on his right cheek and he was stroking it whimsically. She saw that he was indeed young and he had a peculiar expression of mixed sadness and joy.
"I didn't know I had company," he said, as if noticing her for the first time, "that's a relief."
"What?" she asked quizzically.
"I'm not alone anymore. I was always alone, here, in this...place. I was always alone. It was always dark and cold and silent."
"Hmph," she scoffed, ""it's not much different from where I just came from."
He said nothing.
"Are you a ghost?" she asked.
"I might as well be," he answered grimly, with no hesitation. She shuddered at this.
"Who are you?" she asked him again.
He seemed to consider the question for some time before answering.
"They called me by a name once," he replied slowly, "and it was feared and hated by all. But I doubt anyone remembers or anyone cares to call. Not anymore, not now."
And it was then that he looked at her gravely.
She saw his eyes, gleaming orbs of crimson, with a crazed look in them. She shuddered and backed away slightly.
He smirked.
"I see that I still have that effect on people," he muttered with some satisfaction, "good, that's very good."
"What are you babbling on about?" she cried out defensively, although she was still slightly disturbed by that blood-red gaze.
"I once fought for the greatest empire in Gaea," he recounted, almost with nostalgia, "and led the most elite squadron of fighters ever known. We were unbeatable, once. I was invincible."
He sighed and Azula felt herself sympathizing with this stranger with scarlet eyes. She seemed to understand his grief, she had suffered one of her own.
"Let me guess," she interrupted sarcastically, "you lost everything."
He looked at her gravely, not surprised at her knowledge.
"To have everything taken from you," he murmured, "your whole life torn to shreds before your very eyes. You know it too. You've seen the worst of defeats."
Azula pursed her lips and looked away, trying not to remember those dark days.
"She called me a monster," was all the fallen princess managed to mutter.
Her companion laughed, a cold, humorless sound that nevertheless echoed across the void.
"Monster," he repeated, "they all used to call me that."
She glared at him but he was unaffected by her. She simply waited as he continued his bone-chilling fit of laughter
As if remembering something, he approached her quickly with an excited look in his eyes.
She backed away slightly, surprised by his sudden action.
"You can make your own fire," he said with enthusiasm.
She raised an eyebrow at this and then nodded.
"I'm a firebender, of course I can make my own fire," she answered arrogantly.
He looked at her quizzically and she then understood that he knew nothing of what she was talking about. There probably weren't any benders where he came from.
"Show me," was all he said, ordering her in an authoritative tone.
She refused to be spoken to that way. And she folded her arms in protest.
He frowned and took one of her arms roughly. Unfortunately for her, she was too weak to resist. She glowered at him but could not resist.
She managed to create a small, flickering flame at the tips of her fingers.
He gazed at the light, mesmerized and transfixed. He let go of her hand.
As soon as he had done so, she extinguished the flame and slapped him hard.
"How dare you!" they cried in furious unison.
He nursed his swollen cheek for a moment before he raised a hand to retaliate.
She tried firebending at him but he was able to slice the flames and extinguish them although he could not create any fire of his own.
In the ensuing fight, he was able to land some heavy blows on her and she would retaliate in kind. They continued in that awkward and painful way for some time, somehow finding release in the pain they were inflicting.
But they were both significantly weaker than they had been in their prime.
So eventually, they relented, realizing the futility of their endeavors.
The two figures slumped down on what seemed to be ground, although everything was still darkness.
They stared at each other for a long time, and in the silence, both began to understand the plight that the other had endured.
Both of them had fallen from high places, into a pit of delusion and despair.
And in that silent emptiness, a bond seemed to have been formed between them, wrought by their shared sorrows and sufferings. And even by the very similarity of their natures, their vicious characters, and their dark deeds.
Neither of them knew it yet but a link had been created, one that would never be severed, not by distance or time.
But the moment was drawing near for them to realize this ineffable connection.
It was a long time before either spoke.
They both felt utterly pathetic.
Then, the young man broke the silence, seeming to address himself more than his companion.
"How were we reduced to this?"
Azula looked at him and then bowed her head, her long dark hair falling like a veil before her.
"I wish I could leave that place forever," she whispered forlornly and bitterly.
He huffed at her.
"At least you are still yourself," he muttered mysteriously.
She looked at him in puzzlement.
"What are you talking about?"
He leaned forward and hugged his knees to his chest.
"I do not even have my own body any more," he said, "and yet I never died."
"What do you mean?" she asked in confusion.
"I sometimes wonder if I exist at all," he continued to whisper, "or if I was but a pawn, a toy created to play the Emperor's game. And the moment I outlived my usefulness, I was discarded."
Although she could not fully understand what he was talking about, the princess felt herself saddened by his circumstances. This emotion surprised her.
She never usually cared.
But she could tell that pitiful though this creature may be, he was never meant to be so.
Somehow, she had grown to understand that he was very, very similar to her. Or at least, to who she had been.
They were both ruthless and cruel, feared and hated by those around them.
And now, here they were, thrown together into that bizarre void, wallowing in shared misery and madness.
After another lapse of cold silence, Azula spoke.
"How did you get here?" she asked him, "how did you find me?"
He turned his gaze to her and then paused to think.
"I didn't want to be left alone again," he answered enigmatically.
"I don't understand," she replied.
"I was walking around," he continued, "wandering, searching for someone, anyone."
"But how did you find me?" she persisted.
He stared blankly at the void.
"I didn't find you," he answered at length, "you came to me."
Her eyes widened at this and Azula was taken aback.
"I don't know what you mean."
"It doesn't matter. I can't explain it either. All I know is. You came to me, when I was looking for someone."
She was silent for a few moments, contemplating this development.
"Hmph," she said sarcastically, "that is a sickeningly romantic notion, isn't it?"
"Romance has nothing to do with it," he retorted, "the forces of destiny brought this about."
That was what he could remember from the babbling of the Strategos and the Emperor. He didn't really understand it himself, but he had experienced it nevertheless.
"Ha," she scoffed, "you sound like my silly uncle."
"Who cares about your uncle?" the man snapped, "he doesn't matter. Nothing matters here."
"You don't matter then," she answered slyly.
"Neither do you," he replied.
She folded her arms and turned away from him with a frown. He said nothing but stood up and turned to leave.
When she realized that he was indeed going away, she quickly stood up and grabbed his arm.
"Wait!" she cried, "where are you going?"
As much as she was irked by his presence, she did not want to be left alone in that place. Their strange companionship was the smallest of comforts in a long duration of sorrow.
"Nowhere, anywhere," he answered sadly.
"I'll go with you," she said decisively.
To her surprise, he did not protest. He turned to face her and pulled her close.
"Don't leave me alone," he whispered in her ear.
She nodded quickly, unable to say a word.
And then, they were both surrounded by the brightest pillar of light, banishing the darkness that they had previously stood in.
"What's going on?" Azula cried out.
"They're taking me back!" the man cried frantically, his eyes crazed and afraid.
She had never expected him, of all people, to have that expression, like a cornered animal with no means of escape.
He grabbed her hands desperately and held them tight.
"What the hell do you want me to do?" Azula shouted, although she was growing afraid as well.
Ironically, the light was now more frightening than the darkness. A greater force seemed to be pulling them away and pulling them apart.
"If you come with me now," he said desperately, "you will be free. But you must find me."
"And if I don't?" Azula asked, doubtful of his promise. For a moment, she had turned cold and calculating, as she had always been. She would not act rashly, especially on something this important.
He glared cruelly at her and made a move to let go of her hands. He was his old vicious, angry self as well.
"Then you will go back to your wretched cell," he said darkly, but with some hurt showing in his fiery gaze, "and you will always be alone, like me. But you will never see me again."
And at that moment, Azula understood what she had to do. No way was she going to return to that dismal state.
Both of them had endured enough grief. They would both be freed, no matter what it took.
This was the only escape option open to her. She would take it.
She gripped his hands tight and nodded.
"I will find you," she promised him, only realizing after she had said those words that she really meant them.
"But you must tell me your name," she added, hoping to finally learn the identity of this now familiar stranger.
He looked at her with wide eyes, half grateful, half surprised. Seeing the determined look in those golden eyes, he nodded.
And as the pillar of light engulfed them both, Azula at last heard the two fateful words that would guide her in the coming journey.
"Dilandau Albatou."
--
The nurse opened the door to check on the patient. When she saw the room, the poor girl gave a gasp of horror.
The cell was empty.