Title: Dance of Curse -- Allen [Dance of Loss]
Author: Jessica Lynn S. (starsapphirez@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13 for violent content, heavy themes and some language as well.
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Escaflowne, or anything from it. However, I have worked hard on this story, so please do not take it for any purpose without my permission. There are some spoilers here for those who have not seen the entire series; read at your own risk.
Summary: Set mid-series, a common heartbeat of torment echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu.
Note: Despite the fact that I do not feel I can relate particuarly well to Allen's character, I am pleased with the results here. This chapter is dedicated to Desi, because I probably wouldn't have even wrote it if she hadn't asked me to write something from Allen's viewpoint. (Since I wrote this for ya, Des, you damn well better review it...hehe.)
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I sit on the edge of a stone wall, polishing every last scratch out of the blade of my sword, trying not to look at my reflection. I am trying not to think of myself. I am trying not to look to deep, but it is inevitable in these quiet hours when I am alone. When we came to Freid, I finally saw him. I finally saw the small blue-eyed boy whom I have desired to see with all my heart since I first heard of his conception. When we were locked away I begged him to have the strength to believe in us, and then I held a nail file to his throat like a knife to save Hitomi's life. Despite that, he looks at me with such wonder in his eyes, recalling all the stories his mother told him. Apparently even through the passing of the years, Marlene hadn't forgotten me.
Chid has my blue eyes and golden hair; though his is of a more delicate shade, like his mother's. That is all I can see of myself in him. I do not see my emptiness or hidden weaknesses; I see only Marlene's strength and compassionate spirit. Then again, Marlene would have claimed that was only a matter of perception. For that brief time we were together, she and I both held eachother in only the highest esteem while thinking less of ourselves. I still believe that she was the better among us, and I wonder - for that reason - why it is I who still lives. I know that weakness and emptiness were not as prominent within me before she was torn from my life, her presence had all but abated the ache I felt from the loss of my entire family. I loved her genuinely and boldly. I really shouldn't have. I should have known it could not last. I should have known it would cost us dearly.
Well, I think we both knew, we just tried to deny it. We fantasized that we would stay as we were forever, but it was only a matter of months. Love between a knight and a princess is something this world never allows. She had to fulfill her duty, and even in my sorrow I had to continue mine. Even years later when I learned of her death, I hid the pain beneath the layers of my Caeli uniform and my chivalrous manner. I conduct my existance as a dance; a series of elegant and carefully ploted steps. The people around me know nothing of how I truly feel. Especially not Millernia, who wants me now as her sister had. I would rather have her suffer the pain of an unrequited love than the pain of seperation, as Marlene was forced to.
I could never love Millernia anyway. She looks and acts like Marlene in many ways, but she is not Marlene. It would be a disservice to her for me to use her simply as a replacement for the only woman I have ever really loved. She is young and she is strong. She does not need to be weighed down by the heaviness of my existance. Her petals need not be tainted with sorrow.
Isn't it funny that I compare her to a flower? My mother loved flowers so much, and in that I find a strange metaphor. Every woman in my life has been like a flower. Mother and Marlene bloomed briefly in the sunlight of love, then wilted away with the coming of winter; in the seperation and saddness love inevitably brings. Celena, on the other hand, was picked from the garden before she could even bloom, never to be seen again. I still hope that she lives and that someday I will find her, so that not all will be lost. So that I will not be completely and totally alone in this world. It is a foolish hope, but it keeps me breathing.
I am glad that Mahad accepted Chid as his own son, even though he knew without a doubt his true heritage. He would have only needed to chart the days back from his birth to know that Chid was conceived weeks before he ever touched Marlene. But it makes me sad too, that Chid cannot know the truth and that I cannot be a proper father to him. That is yet another loss which I will mourn for an eternity, even if it is only the principle of it. I have learned in life that it always costs to love. It always hurts to love. It always hurts to fight, and it even hurts to breathe. Basically it hurts to live, but I do it anyway.
I am wasting my time with these thoughts again, there is war at hand. Now, as always, I need to push the unbearable sorrow and guilt down beneath the iridescent exterior and attend to my duties. Perhaps I will seek out Van and engage him in a sparring match to keep my skills sharp and my mind distracted. He is generally up and wandering about at this hour of the night. I will go scratch up my freshly-polished sword all over again, and I can't help but laugh at the irony.