A/N: For those who don't know/remember, Jeture is the Sea Dragon God of Asturia and Red is the equivalent in the Gaean calendar to August. Enjoy!
II. Celena Schezar
"Thanks again for your kind hospitality!" Celena Schezar called out from her carriage window with a wave of a white-gloved hand. She watched the Duke of Edissi and his family standing at the front of their mansion bidding their own farewells, as the horses kicked in to motion and took the young Asturian away.
As soon as they were out of sight, she sighed in relief and let herself sink into the cushioned seat. The Duke's family had been extremely nice and courteous to her during her visit, but that only meant that she was required to be at her best in return. The Schezar household, despite its tendency to get involved in scandalous affairs, was one of Asturia's finest, and held on high esteem by King Aston himself. However, there were no doubts as far as gossip went that what respect there was among the remaining Asturian aristocrats for the youngest Schezar generation had derived from that particular fact, and both siblings felt the need to constantly prove themselves worthy of it. Scandal upon scandal had rocked their status in high society, and if not for their friendship with the Royal Family, it would not have taken long for them to fade into social disgrace.
Allen and Celena's father, Leon Schezar, had left wife and children behind when they were still young, squandering the family fortune on things yet to be known and then taking along with him what little had remained. After that, the siblings' mother – Encia – too had fallen ill and not resisted the double assault of her sentimental pain and physical ravaging. The two children had thus been left alone to fend for themselves and make their way in the world. Fortunately, they had had the support of the Royals throughout those trying moments and later, but the Schezar's flair for controversy was not to end on that generation.
Early in his teenage years, Allen had decided that he was going to become the greatest swordsman of Gaea and had left Celena alone to live at the Royal Palace and gone out to see the world. Two years later, he was back and in a daring sequence of events joined the Asturian Army as a Knight Caeli. His success was completely unexpected and it brought him great reputation, but even after having his dream fulfilled, his Schezar restlessness would not allow him to remain in Pallas for long. Pursuing a forbidden love affair with the eldest Princess Marlene had certainly not been the wisest way to invite peace and quiet into his life, and shortly after that particular fact had come out into the open, he was being dispatched to an outpost far from the temptations of the capital. He had just returned some months ago, and the whole city seemed to be holding its breath for the wayward Schezar's next blunder.
Celena was quite different from her brother in that regard, but perhaps that was due to the fact that she was female and had therefore received a different, milder, sort of education. She remembered living more years at the Palace and with the King's family than at her own home, on account of her brother's wanderings. She had been brought up alongside the youngest Princess, whom she had come to see as an adopted sister. Her manners were flawless and her entire posture spoke of delicatessen. But for all the training in the world, her Schezar genes were still a part of her and anyone who knew her well could attest that she was an intelligent and strong-minded, albeit gentle and peace-loving, young lady.
As such, her natural disposition slightly deviated from what was considered proper for a noblewoman. She appreciated politeness and candour, which greatly tempered her more adventurous Schezar side to a point of near non-existence, yet she preferred a relaxed posture rather than the sour-faced distant gaze over the nose or the overall uptight attitude that was expected from highly respectful ladies, and proof of it was that just now, her back ached from being constantly on alert to comply to every little piece or rule of etiquette that had ever been created, and then the unofficial ones as well. She could still feel her brother's proud eyes at the back of her head as he watched her every move, though. For someone who followed them so loosely himself, he was surprisingly adamant that she did not follow in his footsteps. The Duke, and especially the Duchess, had applauded her on more than one occasion for it too.
Celena knew all too well what the real purpose of this visit had been. In fact, she had known for a long time that this would come to pass. She had seen it happen before to a friend once, and heard on an almost monthly basis of one or another case. Women were trained since infancy in every possible way to become fine and elegant ladies, able housewives, cultured enough to have a quiet talk to and pretty enough to go by as a nice ornament to men on more public events. She hated the way things worked, the disregard masked by concern towards the female gender and her lack of active voice at times. Most of all, though, she hated her own awareness of the fact that at fifteen, legally old enough to marry, she was now expected to be away from her own family – wrecked as it was – and taking on the role of wife, future mother and company to the first man that came along that filled her brother's requisites.
She knew from experience in similar matters how her brother would conduct the matter, knew that there was nothing she could do to control what happened other than offer some input that would go by as unheard if necessary. And there was no possibility that the way these things would be done could be changed, for when it came to her, her usually unconventional brother was very insistant on upholding tradition.
When Allen had last returned to Pallas, months ago, he had brought with him this objective of marrying his little sister, and who knew where or why he had gotten that idea into his head. That very week had marked the start of the search for the perfect husband that so disgusted Celena. Powerless to do anything other than look calmly from behind azure eyes, the youngest Schezar sat and silently prayed for fortune to turn a kind eye her way, while being introduced to one heir to a high family of Gaea after another.
The Edissi had not been the first she had visited for this purpose. Her brother had discreetly paraded her to people he knew, under some excuse or other about a birthday or his long period of absence. Little by little, the gossip that Celena Schezar was "searching" for a husband had pretty much become unofficial public knowledge. Fortunately for her, no one had actively sought her out yet, presumably because of the shadows of past scandals that hung over her family name. Still, it was something that could happen at any time without notice and she was coming to dread all these trips Allen set up for her more each time. So far, luck had been on her side; though she had started cursing the faded blonde hair, light blue eyes and graceful figure that nearly every one complimented her on.
She supposed she was learning to surrender to her fate, for this time she had actually started to like her suitor and was hoping that things did work out for the best, if only just so that the fastidious search would be over. Elric Edissi was a fine man of passionate grey eyes and unruly shoulder-length brown locks, sharp and charming, but on a conversation the both of them had shared – a private conversation that she was certain his parents and Allen had everything to do with – he had admitted he preferred women with "some personality." He had not realised the insult and continued with his merry talking as if it was nothing extraordinary. As far as he was concerned, the youngest Schezar was just one more hollow-head with pretty curls on top, but that little comment had taken the liking out of Celena and she had made sure to appear as much of a "hollow-head" as possible from there on, lest he came to any sort of realisations.
This, of course, had resulted on her putting even more effort into performing everything as etiquette stated, and Elric's parents started liking her even more because of it. She had pleased them so much, Allen had actually been convinced that that was where she would be staying the rest of her life, made up an excuse and left for Pallas a week early, leaving her alone in their dreadful company. Finally, Elric had broken his news to the Duke and Duchess and she was free to go home again.
Won't Allen be surprised, she thought mildly to herself and let a smile curve her lips before sighing again. She hated having to play porcelain doll all the time, but image was everything for a person of her statute. Looking out the carriage's little dirty window to her left, she saw the forests encircling Pallas roll into view. The sun was setting on the other side of her transport and the view of the gold-tinted branches being rustled by the wind made her wish she were outside.
It must have been a wonderful temperate afternoon and Celena found herself cursing her status as a woman yet again. She could ask to sit next to the driver outside, but even if he let her it would hardly seem proper and Allen was bound to hear of it. Then, as always, he would go on and on about how she was supposed to behave and how it was all for her well-being, and she ended up as the one feeling guilty for her actions. Maybe if she closed her eyes and slept for a while, things would go by more quickly.
She let the rhythmic clattering of the horses' hooves flood and soothe her. The smell of the animals reached her faintly, but it was not completely unpleasant. Her body moved with every little bump on the road and even that lulled her into a semi-hypnotic daze.
Then everything abruptly stopped and all sounds were replaced by those of the forest. The leaves high above were singing and the birds among them chattered happily, as if thrilled with something about to happen. She smiled through her closed eyes, wanting to be that cheerful, that free.
Casting the thought aside, she wondered instead on why it was taking so long to be on the move again. It would be high night soon and the woods were not exactly as welcoming then. She was reasoning that maybe something had fallen off and the driver was retrieving it, when a scream of pain made her blood freeze. She snapped her eyes open in fear.
She did not have a chance to peer out the dusty window, for the door was jerked open, a rough hand encircled her wrist and she was pulled out. Celena fell ungracefully to a heap on the dirt road and noticed the pair of mud-covered boots right in front of her eyes. The metallic end of a sword's sheath hung next to them and she was suddenly paralysed in fear. Snide remarks and mocking laughter floated above, but she was incapable of registering it.
She tried looking somewhere else to regain her composure, but instead her eyes fell upon another figure sprawled on the ground next to her. It was the driver, and a dagger through the chest tinted his shirt red. She was beyond movement now, her muscles so tight it was hard to breathe. Then all air left her in a long piercing scream of her own when the same large hands grabbed her roughly once more.
Their grip was short-lived, however, and Celena curled back upon herself on the ground, without knowing what to do. She had no memory of ever being this frightened before, and wrapped her arms around herself trying to dispel the tears of fear and nervousness that were flowing freely down her face. Her muscles gradually began unclenching as her mind slowed down a notch. She had yet to look up and see the men around her, but did not have to in order to know that they were very probably thieves hiding in the woods. Maybe killers!
Oh, Jeture, save me! Her eyes shut on reflex and fear escalated up her spine in a chilling wave, ready to paralyse her again. This time, though, she decided to try to keep a cool mind and fight off what instinct forced upon her. At least the man with the large hands was no longer so close in front of her, so maybe they would just take whatever they wanted and walk away. Her ears started to open and all sort of sounds rushed into her weary head.
The thieves were talking, not all too pleased if she was any good at reading their tone. Probably frustrated about finding more dresses than gold, she thought and would have smiled if only that didn't meant that attentions would be focusing on her afterwards. They had assembled somewhere to her left, towards the back of the carriage, and she risked a glance. What she found made her gasp and stare.
There were five of them and her guess had been half-right. They were indeed upset and some of her dresses were lying on the road, but there was something else, or rather, someone else. He wore a dark cloak and had his head covered. He daringly pointed a sword at the other five while talking.
"I won't say it again! If you have any love whatsoever for your sorry asses, you'll leave!" His voice was commanding, but somehow soft in comparison to the other men there. Celena felt an irresistible urge to just go there and hug the man in thanks - her saviour! However, that little bubble of joy soon burst when the thieves only jeered and laughed as if they had heard a joke at a tavern.
"Let's find out if you're really up to that fancy heroic talk after I kick the stuffing out of you, boy!" One of them drawled, pulling out his sword to the sound of the others' cheers.
The thief had to be at least twice the size of her rescuer, in both width and height. His clothes had faded to an indistinct brownish grey from wear and accumulated dirt and he had no hair to go with them. A few teeth were missing for sure, if the way he talked was anything to go by. Celena gave out a small cry and prayer when he charged at her saviour. The thief's sword rose to shine off the two rising moons' light and he lunged downward with practised strength. Celena could not bear to watch.
"Is that all you can do, old man?" Her head rose to the now familiar voice and looked again. Her rescuer had dodged the blow; he was all right! Before relief even had a chance to stop washing over her, he danced under the other's outstretched arm and laid his blade on the back of the thief's neck. "You're slow as a cow!" He laughed, and then turned serious. "And I don't do heroics!"
His blade retracted, so he could better swing the hilt to the spot a breath of a second later, and the burly, toothless thief instantly fell cold to the ground. Celena could not help crying out again and closing her eyes, but then opened them just as fast and cocked her head in awe-struck curiosity. There was no blood. Everyone had turned silent and the stranger directed his sword at the remaining four, going through them one by one with his concealed gaze.
"Anyone else?" Again, the young Schezar marvelled at the power held behind the voice. Obviously, the other thieves could feel it too, because they just put away their own weapons and rushed back to the forest, taking their fallen friend as fast as their feet permitted.
Both the stranger and Celena stood still for a few seconds, just watching the trees through which the five had just vanished, until the sound of metal brought her back to where she knelt on the ground. Her saviour was sheathing his sword and making his way towards her.
"I truly must thank you, sir! Who knows what could have taken place if you had not been here." He shrugged and offered her a hand up. She gladly took it and stood up, waiting for an answer. None came, for he was staring at her; she could feel the eyes beneath the hood locked on her. She eyed him back with a measure of curiosity. "Are you well, sir?"
"Huh?" His unnerving focus broke, and he slowly lowered his hood to look at her. "Sorry, I'm fine", he told her, failing to notice how unmoving and abnormally large her eyes had just become. He continued. "I suppose that wasn't very 'gentlemanish' of me. You just look a lot like..."
Any further rambling he could have gotten into was suddenly cut short as Celena fainted and he had to dive to catch her before she hit the ground...
––––––––––
When next Celena came to, it was morning already and she did not remember much of what had happened. The first thing to enter her hazy head was of how hard and uncomfortable her bed was. Then it came back to her: she was still in the carriage. She did not open her eyes, for the sun was bathing her face, and lazily stretched her arms.
She had had the worst dream ever. Some foul thieves had stopped her on the road and she had been saved by a... She shuddered.
Warmth stopped coming to her cheeks and she wondered what had happened to the sun. Opening her eyes, she came upon the wondering face of a silver haired man with eyes red as wine, hovering inches above her. There was no time to think and she did the only thing she could do – she screamed.
The man peering through the carriage's window was startled beyond his wits and jumped back on instinct – effectively banging his head on the roof along the way.
"Damn it! What was that for? I saved you, remember!" He growled at her, pacing outside and rubbing his head. "It's not like I'm going to hurt you or anything, you know?"
"I am terribly sorry, sir!" She answered him, after cringing slightly at his manners and placing a hand over her rushing heart. So it was not a dream after all. "But it was not very nice of you to come upon me like that either. You frightened me." She stepped outside and noticed that the former driver was nowhere in sight and there was a small pile of ash by the front wheel.
"I thought you were awake," he told her more calmly, determining his abused head was ready for another go if need be. Then he seemed to read her line of thought as he observed her and answered her unspoken questions. "I buried the old man last night and there's some food, if you'd like something to eat... my lady.
She had to smile at that. At least he seemed to be trying to act "gentlemanishly" as he had put it, but it was obvious he was not very used to it. The words sounded somewhat wrong coming from his mouth.
"Thank you. I would very much appreciate that, yes." She continued studying him as he leaned over the burnt out fire and handed her breakfast on an improvised plate. The smell of burnt food immediately assailed her nostrils, but she accepted it with a polite smile. She saw him turn to absently look around afterwards and quickly put the "food" aside. "With all due respect, you are not from Asturia, are you, sir?"
"Not really." Her red-eyed saviour turned to face her again. "Just..." - he pondered for a moment - "a wanderer looking for adventure, I guess," he concluded brilliantly with a passing smile. "Oh, you finished eating. That was fast. But it's good, now we can be on our way! You're going to Pallas too, I take it?"
She nodded, too dazzled by his voice to speak out an answer. The feeling of power she had sensed earlier was gone now, or rather, it was lying dormant. She also remembered that his voice had been different from the thieves' ones, softer. She could see now why. He was young, apparently the same age as her...
"Hello?"
Her attention snapped back to what he was saying, murmuring a timid apology under her breath. He was already a couple of meters ahead on the road, a small bag slung over his right shoulder and looking expectantly at her. Is he serious, she asked herself. Out loud, though, she said: "You are not planning on going all the way to Pallas on foot, are you, sir?"
"Yes, I am," he stated, looking for the sun amid the branches overhead to check the time. "Now come on, I don't know how much further it is, but the sooner we're there, the better."
"I cannot walk to Pallas!" She reasoned, crossing her arms in front of her. "We have a perfectly nice carriage and horses here, why not use them?"
"I don't like carriages," he said simply, making it sound like it was the universal truth behind truths and if she could not understand something as simple as that, she was not worthy.
"Well, I do not like walking." A light pout formed on her face as she looked dramatically to the side. She had no idea where all this was coming from; under normal circumstances, never would she act like this, but she decided it was a nice change. He paused, considered this, and fumed at her.
"All right then. I'll walk, you ride. I'm not your servant, anyway," he said, turning and continuing down the path. "Bye!"
Celena stared. Somehow, her speech had backfired. Didn't this person know a thing about how to act towards a lady like her? She ran after him and held on to his sleeve. "Sir! Wait! You cannot just leave me here alone! How will I make it home on my own?"
One of his eyebrows twitched, but then, possibly realising how helpless she really was, he just threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! I'll take you in the carriage to wherever it is you're going and then be on my way. Is that alright with you, milady?"
"Yes," she replied, her urgent face instantly melting. To wherever she was going... Allen!, she remembered. He must be dead worried with her delay already. She knew he had received her warning letter saying she would arrive the previous evening. She was almost half a day late already. The red-eyed stranger was opening the carriage's door for her, but after an adventurous night like the one before and a dispute like the one now, she felt that she had the right to do one more thing the way she wanted. "Would you mind if I went up front with you? The day is so beautiful..."
He saw no problem with it and helped her up instead, grumbling to himself all the way. The dress got stuck on some loose wooden boards and the delicate fabric tore but it was nothing Celena could not handle. Until she leaned onto the seat and almost fell backwards. Gaining her balance, she glanced over her shoulder and found that most of the boards there were gone. The man was climbing up himself on the other side and she shot him a questioning look. He noticed and smiled sheepishly.
"I needed some wood to start the fire for the food..." It made some sense, but she thought better not to ask him why he could not have used some dead branches instead of those specific boards. They were in the middle of a forest, after all. He picked up the reigns and got the horses on the move, but did not offer anything further in terms of starting a conversation. Not one used to silence, it was slightly unnerving Celena.
"You were pretty fabulous last night," she said with measured words.
He looked at her awkwardly, but otherwise spoke normally. He had not expected to be complimented. "I had the element of surprise on my side and they had no idea who I was or what I was capable of, so it was easy. And the cape really gave me that creepy-guy look, don't you think?" He was smiling now, seemingly very proud of himself for having outsmarted the villains. His quick-changing dispositions made Celena laugh softly.
"I do not know. Maybe if you had your hood down it would have scared them more..." The look of hurt that flashed on his features before he abruptly faced the road again was not lost on her, and she was instantly sorry for making fun of what was obviously a sensitive spot. She laid a hand on his arm. "I apologise! That was a terrible thing for me to say! I was not thinking... Please sir, it is not what I feel at all!"
"Sure..." Then a while later: "I guess I'm the one who should be apologising. I bet I scared you to hell and back last night." She smiled and shook her head, although secretly inside, she was admitting that that had been a nice understatement. "Besides, you're probably right, it would be a neat little trick to use if they were any good in fighting or scaring them off with this sword failed."
"I suppose I overreacted a bit, I am sorry, sir. But what do you mean, is there something wrong with your sword?"
"Hell yes!" He put a hand over his mouth, remembering himself he was in the presence of a lady. "The blade's completely blunt. It wouldn't cut through butter in the middle of Red! See for yourself if you want to."
Celena blanched and waited a few seconds to make sure her heart was still there, beating. "You mean you ran into a group of five armed thieves in the middle of the night in an unknown forest with a weapon that is virtually useless?" She took a long breath in the end to compose herself. Then, "Are you mad?"
"Easy there, you almost sound like you didn't want to be rescued! I could have taken one of their swords at any time if I had to." She had her doubts, but kept them for herself. There was something definitely off with this man.
"So, what brings you to Pallas, sir?" He looked at her, but there was something different lying beneath his unusually coloured orbs now. It reminded her of wonderment and disbelief, yet at the same time... not.
"Don't call me 'sir'. Like I said, I'm a wanderer. I go from country to country, for no reason other than to see what's there, I guess." He kept looking straight at her, as if expecting her to reply in some special manner that was rehearsed in his mind. Celena could not possibly know what it was, but the feeling was there nonetheless.
"Sounds exciting," she said somewhat dryly. An adventurer side she may have, but to completely renegade any fixed home was a little over the top as far as she was concerned. "Where are you from, if I may ask?"
"Nowhere." His gaze shifted back towards the road, betraying no indication of what its owner had made out of Celena's reply. "So, what's your name and where are we going exactly anyway?" He asked, obviously changing the subject.
"Oh, where are my manners! I am Celena Schezar. I was on my way home. It is on the outskirts near Pallas, but I am familiar with the road, so I can show you the way." He muttered an assent and did not speak further. She assured him they were not very far from their destination and then fell silent as well. No one said anything else for the rest of the journey but Celena noticed her red-eyed saviour took to shifting a lot in his seat. Maybe he didn't like to talk.
They were not as far away from Pallas as they had thought and the coastal city swiftly came into view, even before Celena's house did. The red-eyed was clearly marvelled with the sight. She thought she heard him whispering something, but dismissed it as the wind playing tricks. Nevertheless, she saw the way his eyes were glued on the ocean below and remembered something she had often heard from the mouth of visiting foreigners. 'With its glittering sea and canals, Pallas is one of Gaea's prettiest jewels.' She hated to interrupt her saviour's study of the landscape, but her home was very close now.
"We are here. That is where I live." His head snapped forward and to the direction in which she was pointing and this time Celena was sure she had heard him say "not bad" to himself. She laughed. "Would you like to come in? Do you need a place to stay? I am sure that my brother will be more than..."
He halted both the horses and her at the same time, raising a hand. "No, thanks, I'm going to town. I can work out some place to stay there by myself." He jumped from his seat and unceremoniously turned on his heels towards the road he had seen descending to Pallas some way back, shouting his goodbyes over the bag slung on his shoulder.
"Take care, Celena Schezar!"
"Take care yourself!" You need it more than I do. I wonder why he is in such a hurry... Hold on, he did not tell me his name! "Sir, wait!" She looked back, but he was already gone and too far to hear her calls.