I worked my butt off to get this done before I have to leave this weekend for... A CONVENTION. That's right, my friends. Yours truly is going to nerd it up this weekend and taking off from work to do it.
Talk more on the bottom! Hope this chapter makes sense... If there are any mistakes (which I am almost positive there are many!), please let me know and I take to arms against those abysmal grammatical errors and spelling problems. TO ARMS!
Seriously, I rushed to get it out in time. I feel actually proud of myself. And I'm kind of hyper because of it. Not a good thing, probably...
Hitomi entered the enormous blue kitchen with the gargantuan weight of a bad night sleep still clinging on the back of her neck...
Until she spied something that chased her gloom away like a cat scampering after a mouse:
Breakfast.
Beloved breakfast.
The huge living-room and kitchen held more windows than she remembered; the morning sunlight peeked through the open windows, pushing the rolled up blinds and sashaying green curtains enveloped the entire breakfast table in a glowing atmosphere. Another more flashy welcome came in the form of Thaioden's eye-blistering orange coat that was cut short off his thin midriff. His lined face stretched into a huge, satisfying grin as her green eyes beheld the overwhelmingly delightful table piled to groaning with Joko's most famous and delectable breakfast foods. The aroma of fried eggs, spinach quiche, and grilled sausages made her eyes mist with love. Two large platters of fruit and cheese laid in a delicate array at each ends of the table, a tilting pile of waffles, and toast with six different jars of jams her mouth on over-drool.
With a grateful "thank-you!" she had just sat down and picked up a spoon to scoop out some eggs when Van emerged from the back hallway. His tall frame slid into the kitchen clutching his sword in his right hand and sporting his ever-present navy hat on his dark head. The king settled in the chair across from her; his long arms and legs folding uncomfortably. He still sported the green and pink MYSTESS shirt, which was slightly wrinkled from sleep. His shadowed eyes refused to look at the people around him and he decided instead set his stare at one of the fruit platters next to his plate. It was almost instantly, a sting of awkwardness sizzled between the two of them like the hot pink wording on Van's t-shirt. Hitomi lowered the spoon with an air with indecision; glancing consecutively at Van, the fruit plate he was gazing at, the eggs she wanted, her empty plate, and back again at Van.
Clapping his hands together with bracelets adorning his slender wrists, Thaioden's pleasant smile hardly faltered in the waves of uneasiness that tossed violently around the breakfast table. "Please, dig in both of you! I have a thing with a cocker, so I better hop out the door. Give yourself forty-five minutes or so before heading up the elevator to the top floor. The library spans the entire suite, so it might be hard to find me." He turned to Van while simultaneously flicking a piece of brown hair over his shoulder. "Your lovely lady in white is already in my library and waiting for you. She rose earlier this morning and insisted on pulling out tomes you'd be interested in." He tapped his chest with a ringed hand and sighed, "My, my, my, what an adorable kitten…"
His throat bobbed up and down visibly. Van's muscles tensed and she could practically taste the displeasure radiating from him. With yet another wistful sigh – completely ignoring Van's vibe - the owner backed out of the kitchen and the front door slammed with solidity; effectively locking them in the discomfort. She sniffed only once and resumed to digging into the eggs.
Silence.
Ten long countable minutes passed with a ringing silence.
They sat together: Van perching always with his impeccable posture in the chair opposite of her and Hitomi refusing to look at the mute king as she finished off a bite of toast covered with rose jam and simultaneously loaded her fork with another steaming piece of the spinach quiche. Van hadn't touched his plate – not surprising – and already released several long sighs of impatience through a small slit between his lips. His tan arms still folded over his chest, his sword leaning against his chair like a faithful pet, and with his shaded mahogany eyes covered by the fringe of his unruly black locks, he was the poster child for chauvinism. The man hardly ate, barely slept, and yet could bafflingly muster enough energy to embellish the room with the worst awkward silence she'd ever encountered.
If only he'd take a bite out of something.
Despite the peace negotiations last night on the living-room couch, Hitomi found herself scouring her brain for variety of conversation topics – anything to break the suppressing quiet between them. Unfortunately she was failing drastically in the endeavor.
She swallowed another bite of quiche and reached for more sausages; finally glancing up at him accidentally. She was surprised to find he wasn't looking at her, but now staring as if enraptured at the beautiful fruit and cheese platter. Maybe it was the flicker of longing in his deep eyes; maybe it was that he pressed his lips into a thin tense line. Her reaching fingers halted for a brief moment as an old feeling washed through her. It was the first sensation she'd gotten when she'd seen him at the Winged Palace and it ran a thick cord down her spine.
Pity.
The image of Van walking amidst the ruins of his old home, his back always perfectly straight, but his shoulders heavy with some unknown weight. Van bending down to the dirt like a medieval knight to put her shoe back on her foot after he'd accidentally stepped on it on the way to the Chapellieur. Van kneeling on the floor after she'd seen the vision of his escape from Fanelia: the grace of a royal prince; his low voice calm, but underscored with earnest; his black head bowed, his bangs flicking over his face. Now that she knew him, she realized exactly how vulnerable he had been in that moment. He was prideful, arrogant, rude, and manipulative.
But the kicker: he had prostrated himself on the floor before her, beseeching her help after revealing his deepest secret.
Pulling the sausages to her, she felt her appetite ebb slightly. There were two very different sides to the Fanelian King. One moment, he could be understanding, patient, even joking – a flash of the miniscule laugh she's pulled out of him last night hit her – and the next moment, he was overbearing, demanding, and slashing everything in his path with that sword of his. She pricked a sausage from the dish with her fork, cut into it, but left the piece on the plate.
It was like he was a coin – one side dark and the other light – spinning rapidly on the table. If she said or did something wrong, it would tilt and land on the dark side. It was sad that only on rare occasions – like last night – his personality landed on the light side. And honestly, half the time he deserved to be yelled at anyway. Did her alternate reality self ever have to handle an emotionally damaged and violent man? Was that Van a misplaced king with filled to the brim with bitterness? Was Fanelia even destroyed in that world? And furthermore, how the hell did her younger self win such a pure smile out of him? His young face was beyond happiness, more along the lines of boundless joy, all because he wrapped her in his arms. He was carefree, in a way. Like every burden he had was gone. It was as if holding her was everything he dreamed of…
She mentally shook the image out of her head and sighed quietly. She knew what she was feeling was irrational. How stupid was it to be resentful of an alternate version of herself that existed in another reality? No, no, it was better to concentrate on the task at hand; the one in this reality. The sooner they got the story out of Thaioden, the sooner they could figure out what they were destined to accomplish. And the sooner she did what the magic wanted, the sooner she would leave him and Chordata and be back in Austuria where she belonged.
Back with Yukari and mama…
His gaze suddenly left the fascinating fruit display and flashed on her face. With a swift jolt and thick swallow of air, she realized she'd been staring at him for the past several minutes. Pushing down her blush, she gestured to the fruit to distract him from her obvious scrutiny and asked, "Something wrong with the fruit?"
"What do you mean?" His low voice answered. He uncrossing his long arms and draping them on the armrests of his dark wooden chair.
Why did he always look so regal?
It was kind of unfair.
"You've been staring at that fruit platter since you got in here. Did it offend you in some way?" She smiled lightly to show she was joking. Easy, girl, tread lightly with him…
Instantly, his mahogany eyes shot back over to the fruit as if blaming it for existing and then flicked prickling to her face.
"My thoughts are of no concern to you."
A rush of breath escaped her lips and disappointment with a twist of irritation dropped in her belly like a stone. "Hah, right, should have expected that…" she muttered, turning back to her plate.
"Expected what?"
"Nothing," she rolled her eyes and picked up her fork. "Should have known you'd respond like that. Guess I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."
"Just what were you expecting?"
Hitomi could just see the black eyebrow quirking upward underneath his navy hat. She released a loud exhale through her nose. "I had thought that since last night and our little 'peaceful negotiations', you'd be more open with me. We've established pretty clearly that we have to work together. But if you want to glare at fruit for an ungodly amount of time then who am I to take that away from you?"
"Why are you so interested in where I stare in the first place?"
"It's not just about that, Van." she set down her fork and crossed her arms. "Look, I was thinking about it last night. I… I don't really know you. Despite the research I've done on you and your Guymelef turned teleport-necklace -thing and your family and the Rebellion, you're still little more than a stranger to me. You probably don't know much about me either."
"On the contrary, I have a fairly accurate perception of you."
His dark head tilted to the side as he looked at her. It was probably in innocent contemplation, but it looked like a heaping dose of haughtiness to Hitomi. She frowned in retaliation and her mouth twisted sarcastically, "Oh, you do? Last time you described your perception of me you manipulated me into sneaking into the Customer Receivers and frolicking around in a bikini. That is definitely not me."
"I find that to be valid proof."
"Proof? How in the world does that prove anything?"
Van's lips twitched upward. "It proves I was able to use your personality against you. I find that you react to negativity by doing the complete opposite. You instantly grow defensive on any slight attack on your physical and mental capabilities and you force yourself – no matter how horrifying the situation is – to prove me wrong."
"Well, it's a general consensus that most people don't want to hear anything negative. It's normal. You want to dish out perceptive criticism? Why don't you let me have a go at you and your bipolar, chauvinistic, rude, boorish, lack of respect for me and everyone else around you attitude you've got going there? I would have thought you'd behave yourself after last night, but that was too optimistic. Half the time I have no idea how you'll react to simple questions."
"If the question is deemed worthy of answering then I will answer it."
"See what I mean? One minute you are yelling, completely disagreeable, and being an insufferable jerk, but then…" she stopped for a few seconds. "…then you are suddenly not that bad of a guy. I don't know which one is the real you."
He snorted sardonically, but his voice fell into monotone like a robot. "And this all derives from me refusing to answer your question? Am I unable to simply sit here without you forcing me to explain every single thing I do? Why bother when you are constantly so nitpicky and impatient?"
"I am not nitpicky!"
"Why do you want to know in the first place?" He continued calmly. "It is none of your business whether I want to speak, stare, or anything else. You are instantly overemotional at everything I say."
"I don't get overemotional!" she snapped back. Van's mouth just lifted briefly on the corners before dropping into his signature thin, straight line.
"Okay, okay, okay." she pushed down the burning feeling in her stomach. "I just want a polite conversation like last night. We had a compromise to try and work together. That means I should get to know you at least a little bit."
"All you need to know about me is in history books." She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
"As I unmistakably declared during the Winged Palace tour, the history books are wrong." Hitomi countered, slipping in a twinge of cheekiness to her tone of voice. "If I believed what history books said, I'd have had you committed to a mental hospital because Van Slanzar has been dead for the past few centuries." She smiled and laced her fingers under her chin. "I'd like to learn about the past from a believable source. A source that can actually give me detailed accounts. You are about as direct as I can ever get."
"I cannot tell if you are trying to flatter me or manipulating the situation to get what you want."
She snorted a laugh. "Can't I try both?"
He went quiet, his contemplation inaudible, but his analysis of her very obvious. Then, after only about ten seconds, he did something she did not expect:
He answered her question.
"My family at the Winged Palace provided intricate fruit platters similar to this at Ceremonial Gatherings and Government Weddings and Royal Balls. I had a dream last night: a memory dream of one of those particular Balls." He straightened his back on the chair and cleared his throat. She was afraid he'd stop talking, but he thankfully kept going. "I dreamed about when I was nine-years old. It was the night I met Millerna Aston, the one you call 'Warrior Princess'."
"You've met Princess Millerna?" Hitomi's green eyes widened in surprise and she couldn't help but be slightly in awe of him. "You actually knew her? What was she like? Was she as brilliant as everyone says? She has been my hero for the longest time. A brilliant chemist, skilled doctor, and she even reorganize the Austurian Legionnaires after the alchemy bomb was dropped on Palas. Her entire family and kingdom was destroyed… a lot like you actually. I bet you had a lot in common."
"She was dull," he answered simply with a wave of his thin hand. "We only spoke once and briefly. There was nothing impressive to her."
"Oh," she wasn't sure to believe the stoic man or not considering his habit to judge everything in a negative light. "You said you met her at a Ball?"
"One of the many my mother threw to strengthen the ties to the Fanelian Kingdom."
"And you were only nine?"
"Nine and a half."
"Do these dreams happen often?"
"Ever since I left all those years ago, my old life, my family – they are all I ever dream about. Is that what you wanted to know? Does that satisfy your inquiry?" His tone of voice wasn't angry, but there was a highlighted bitterness to his words.
"I'm s-sorry…" she didn't know what else to say.
He took a deep breath and murmured: "There is much in my life that is… what you could call… unpleasant. I do not like speaking of it…"
"Have you ever spoken about it at all?" she asked quietly.
She noticed Van's hands clench on his knees, his knuckles whitening. "I am not in the habit of speaking about the past. But as you said before, we are… compromising. I will give you credit on one point: history books do not give the past justice. They speak of events, death, for example, as if it is a term of simplicity; never truly giving it the respect it deserves." He paused debating something within himself. But then, "That Fanelian Ball I dreamed about, it serves as a pinnacle in my life. My mother… only a month or two after the Ball, announced a pregnancy. The fetus caused complications of a delicate nature; taking away its short life in the womb… and my mother with it. She died shortly before I turned ten. My father, heartbroken and sick, followed her in death when I was eleven. My brother was killed only a month my father left us during in the Dragon Slaying Ritual to become king. Four years later…" he hesitated for only a brief whispering moment before continuing, "…I was fifteen and qualified for the Ritual. I… came back successful with the harvested dragon's heart, and – by right of Dragon Slaying – took the crown that was meant for my brother. During the Coronation, my country was slaughtered and I watched through a beam of strange light as my father's most trusted general was killed. And I woke up here: centuries later with my country still in ruins, my people invaded, my enemy too powerful to fight against, and Balgus, the only one left I could call family, bearing the degrading brand of a murderer and a traitor."
She couldn't speak. She couldn't think of anything to say anyways.
"As I explained to you before, it is unpleasant."
"Understatement of the century," She breathed the words out.
He turned his hidden eyes to glance at the clock above the stove. "We have ten minutes till we go to the library. I will leave you to breakfast in peace."
"Mm'kay," she answered strangely, her brain still trying to soak in all the words he'd spoken. He stood from his chair, his long form bending to pluck the sword still resting on the chair's arm.
"Van," she said his name gently and he turned to her, his mahogany eyes deeply hidden under his hat, but still locked on her face. A shiver of something passed between them; something she never realized before. And, for a bizarre second, she understood why her other self smiled so happily hugging him tightly. Behind all of the stoic stiffness; behind the rude behavior and snippy condescension, she finally understood something she should have known from the very beginning:
Van Slanzar de Fanel was a broken man.
"Thank you."
He pressed his lips together, regarding her in his silent way.
And he left the room without another word.
The massive two –story library was surprisingly dark. Small lamps attached periodically on the inside lining of the bookshelves gave a quiet gold light and created both a warm and sleepy atmosphere. Three black iron staircases on the left, middle, and far right circled like tower steps to the second and third floor, which seemed to be loaded with even more books. Leading the way through the wealthy collection of knowledge, Thaioden stopped at a beautiful stone hearth that had a fire burning merrily. Surrounding the fire was a long table at the back and four squashy leather arm-chairs. Gesturing with waving, lazy fingers with jeweled rings that glinted with the light from the fire, he leaped like a gazelle to perch on the long table; his thin legs dangling off the side. Hitomi took an arm-chair near the fire, but turned her body to face the MYSTESS owner while Van leaned against one of the long bookshelves behind her. He felt his sword – buckled comfortingly at his hip – clank against the second to bottom shelf as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Thaioden smirked at him from across the room. "Armed even in a library, sugarcane?"
Crossing his arms, he quirked an unseen eyebrow at Thaioden from under his hat and stayed silent.
The man continued un-discouraged, "You'd think with such a precious relic you'd sell it to Zaibach for a small fortune."
"I would rather slice off their heads." Though Van's voice was wholly composed, the threat was very present.
Thaioden laughed loudly, "Well, we are in quite the mood this morning, aren't we? No matter. Right! Down to business then." He leaned forward as if beginning an exciting ghost story. "I've never really had anyone to talk to about this particular part of my history, unless they are history junkies." The owner's easy smile was on his face, but his dark eyes held a mysterious shine as they flicked on Van and then back to the girl in front of him. The king noticed Hitomi sit forward a little more with interest; her small hands clasped calmly in her lap, but her legs jiggled with pent up excitement and anxiousness. She tossed her head to flick her bangs out of her glittering green eyes.
History junkie, indeed.
"I imagine your father provided you with an accurate timeline of the events in The Great War?" He asked Hitomi softly, shifting his bottom on the table and crossing his thin legs. His gaze flicked back to Van and a shadowed thought brushed pasted his eyes. "In 1360, the day of the Rebellion in Fanelia: the Escaflowne was lost, Fanelia's civilians were slaughtered and eventually scattered, and the new king was either murdered or ran off like a coward."
It was irrational and he knew it. It was an obvious taunt and he knew that as well, but still Van jumped up from where he was leaning on the bookshelf, his hand instantly whipping to his side for his sword. His body slid into a ready charge; the threat of death radiating all over his body. "Coward?" he spit the word dangerously through clenched teeth, a flash of rage curling inside his stomach. The blade swished out of the sheath fluidly.
Hitomi's green eyes were wide with horror and she stood from her chair. With her arms out, he barely noticed her fearfully squeal, "Van, calm down! It's okay! He was just making a joke!"
"No matter what happened to Van Slanzar, he would never abandon his people." Van growled with a low-graded rage. "He would never leave on his own free will. Utter that word again and I promise it will be the last thing you say."
The brown-haired man just looked at him undeterred; his pale, bearded face a mask. "Well, where do you think he went, sugarcane? Honestly, he was just a fifteen-year old kid. He probably did what any normal person would do and left before the going got rough. Either that or he died. Why should you have such a bee in your bonnet about the issue?"
"Van, put the sword away!" He caught her worried eyes and he released a low breath. She took a hesitant step around her chair as if she was going to approach him. But she stopped. "Please, put the sword away."
The tension between the two men simmered slowly like water draining down a kitchen sink. With another deep release of breath, he swung his sword over his hand and let it slide back into the sheath. Hitomi sighed as well, moving back to her chair.
"He was still a king and I am still a Fanelian. Joking or not, you will watch your mouth when you speak about him."
"Wow, really, hon, where did you pick up this piece of work?" Thaioden grinned audaciously at Hitomi. She just smiled weakly back and rubbed her eyes quietly. "Apparently this is a touché subject. Let's shy around that piece of history and settle on the Rebellion itself. Since you are so wise when it comes to Fanelian history, let me press a strange question for you," the man moved to stare unblinkingly at Van, who continued glared in response. "What do you know of stealth cloak technology?"
A molten blister of frustration rushed down his spine, but he forced himself to keep his voice calm. His fists clenched tightly together, the unknown-king said lowly, "Such a thing did not exist until quite a few years after The Great War was over; however…" Van paused, hating ever bit of the man's smug countenance in front of him. He glanced over at the back at Hitomi and his fists clenched even further. "…invisible enemies attacked Fanelia. The Rebellion was a preposterous falsehood used as a cover up for an invasion. One can only conclude that stealth cloak technology was used."
"As I figured, you are very knowledgeable on the subject." Thaioden offered with a smirk and Van had to swallow down his growl. Backing up, the black-haired man leaned on the bookshelf once more; his shadowed mahogany eyes never leaving the owner's thin, lined face.
"It's true," Hitomi injected quickly. "My father wrote about it. Balgus was a sworn swordsman of the Guitomian Samurai. He would never go back on his vows. Father studied Guitoma culture fully. It was considered a curse for a Samurai to violate a promise; especially a pledge of protection to a Royal Family."
Another slice of a cryptic thought crossed Thaioden's face before it was replaced by his charming grin. "Quite right, quite right, indeed. The bastards who wrote the piece of shit Historical Archives didn't expect someone to go poking around for the truth."
"Someone?" Hitomi asked tilting her head curiously.
"Yes, someone. Your father, you silly duck. He remains the only historian who was both brave and stupid enough to challenge the Historical Archives publicly." Hitomi started in the chair and Van could see her fingers fidget in her lap even without looking directly at her. Thaioden continued: "'Madman': that is what many believed your father was. A conspiracy theorist let loose on the world to bellow out lies. But when his research led him to me and he finally confessed to me what he was searching for, I just knew he had it right…" Van expected her to flinch at the word 'madman', but she surprised him by straightening her back in the chair and tossing her short hair importantly.
"Only another madman would believe him." Her face smiled a bit and she nodded towards Thaioden - who blinked at the accusation before bursting into laughter.
"Very true… oh, so very true… madman," he beamed at her proudly. "You probably got that sharp wit from your mother's side. Your father wouldn't have been as quick with the comebacks."
"I told you last night I never understood why he worked so hard; abandoning his entire family in the process. That's what I want to know."
Thaioden lifted a hand to twirl a bit of his hair. "Well, it was two things really, but the second one I learned much later: At first, he was researching his own ancestry."
Van saw Hitomi blink in surprise and felt a jolt of his own. "Ancestry? You mean the Kanzaki family line?"
"Errr, not the Kanzaki's per-say, "the man's eyes twinkled as she gave a confused look. "You could say we have more in common than historical interests."
She gasped lightly, "Wait, wait, are you saying what I think you are saying? That I'm… I'm related to you!?"
"Distantly," Fassa smiled. "So very distantly. I think I'm your fourth cousin-twice removed…? Or is it sixth cousin-fourth removed? Either way, welcome to the family!"
"So, my dad was simply trying to find out our family history?" She asked incredulously.
"That's how it started, or at least what he told me. It was an innocent quest that turned into fishing more and more skeletons out of a rotten closet. And his journey really started with him taking out the first skeleton in there: Meiden Fassa. Somehow, that guy tracked me down as being the last direct descendant of the rotten son-of-a-bitch. Even when I changed my name and everything."
"Meiden Fassa was the man who-"
"Yeah," Thaioden's ever present sparkle in his eye fizzled out somewhat. "The prick that sold out his own son and killed copious amounts of people with the alchemy bomb. He got what he what deserved in the long run: executed for regicide in Austuria. But you already knew about that from Papa Kanzaki. What you don't know is what happened to Dryden, his son."
"Dryden? You mean on the convoy? He died, didn't he?"
"If he did, then I'm a figment of your imagination, hon."
"…He survived? How in the world… there was an assassin after him… are you serious?"
"Serious like sugarcane is with that sword. This particular bit of history was what your father cordially omitted from his journal at my personal request. I am not the biggest fan of my lineage, but, putting my personal feelings aside, I promised I'd tell you everything," he cleared his throat. "Dryden was warned that his merchant caravan held the bomb thanks to a secret message delivered to his quarters. According to Dryden's memoir, he received the note right before the convoy took off for Austuria. It said there was a doppelganger on the ship and not to trust anyone. He doesn't make a mention of who could have possibly given him that message. Not even a smidgen of detail." Thaioden shivered as if something unpleasant was crossed under his nose. "Glad those things fought themselves out of existence. Nasty creatures, doppelgangers."
"Did he ever find out who did it? The one who sent the note?" Van watched Hitomi try to soak in this new information. She was blinking faster than normal.
"Funny, he did, actually. As it turns out the note was from Allen Schezar the Brave or whatever history likes to call him. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Either way – being a surprisingly trusting man or maybe he was suspicious of his backstabbing daddy – he took the advice, fought his way to a small cargo pod, and traversed his way into Guitoma. He arrived barely alive from a stab wound in the abdomen."
"But Allen was in Austuria saving Princess Millerna at the time. How in the world was he able to figure out Zaibach's secret plan and know to warn Dryden about it?"
"Here's another thing history likes to browse over from time to time. Dryden was actually engaged to the princess. King Aston's brilliant idea."
"He was? Wait. They were?"
Thaioden was obviously enjoying Hitomi's rapid attention for he grinned widely at her. Another wave of irritation washed over Van as the flamboyant man announced, "Yes, a match made against the will of two people. Makes one feel all shivery with love. It's not well known unfortunately and, according to Dryden, he wasn't too thrilled about the idea of an arranged match, but when you're future father-in-law is the king, there's really not much you can say on the subject."
"But Millerna must have told Allen to warn Dryden. Maybe she actually did have feelings for him."
"That's all well and romantic, but we are skimming over the big question here: how did Allen know about the bomb in the first place?"
The fire crackled loudly in the stone fireplace as a silence fell between the two historians. Finally, Van spoke up, his voice cold despite the heated room. "There is a probability Zaibach had a spy in its ranks. Possibly someone Allen knew personally."
Hitomi started as if she'd momentarily forgotten he was there behind her. She turned around in her seat to glance at him. Van noted her short hair flipped neatly, sliding over her wide green eyes The king reached up to tuck his hat further on his head. A nervous twist hit his stomach and he swallowed strangely.
"You… you really think so, Van?" Her voice was breathless.
"You mentioned the Be Ready Soldiers were defaulting." He murmured under his breath, feeling a little triumphant Thaioden was left out of their conversation. His mahogany eyes hit on the old man briefly and he saw Thaioden's smile had fallen somewhat. He gazed back at her and the triumph grew as her surprised transformed into delight. Her body language spoke volumes. She was focused directly on him now. The way her shoulders were turned, her arms clutched the back of the arm-chair, her green eyes wide and shimmering. He watched her brush some small strands of hair off her cheek with her right hand and tuck it behind her ear. He kept his face impassive, but he found that he wanted to smile along with her. She was getting into a more intuitive side of her thought process. Not that she ever needed to know, but Van had to admit she had a pretty good instinct when it came to this sort of thing...
"Judging by what you told me, many were losing their minds at a rapid rate. Perhaps one of them did not lose their mind, but instead, recovered it."
"You think that…?" she didn't finish. She didn't need to. Van read her train of thoughts.
"It is understandable that there might be. Maybe…?" She read his mind this time and a jolt of warmth rushed down his spine.
"The last of the Third Generation?"
"Definitely a possibility."
"So, what the magic said is true then!" Her smile was radiating. It made her entire face glow. It gave her a more innocent look. Van cleared his throat again and nodded.
"Seek out the last of the Third Generation. That might be our spy-"
"Wait, whoa, whoa, slow down, horsey!" Thaioden interrupted leaned forward further with a glint of interest. The black-haired king stifled a groan. "Defaulting? Be Ready? Last of the what now?"
"Oh, I should probably explain, but I… well, I saw something… Actually this is really a lot more difficult to explain that I thought." She began hesitantly and glanced back at Van again as if for answers. He shrugged by simply lifting one shoulder. It was her vision; let her try to explain it. "I kind of get visions and things. I don't really know why or how, but they started up as soon as I met that guy." She pointed her thumb at him and he frowned invisibly under his hat.
'That guy', huh?
"I'm not sure what they are, but Van seems to think its magic. But magic doesn't exist… that is, I thought that until several days ago."
"Oh, God, not magic," Thaioden lifted a hand run it through his hair dramatically. "Magic, visions, a butt load of weird shit, and you have yourself a recipe for a billion questions without any answers."
"What do you mean?"
"Lots of people claim to have magic, predicting the future, deciphering the meaning of the world through empty eggshells in a cake pan. A lot of it is crack bull nonsense. But… I do believe there are traces of it – real fragments – left in this world. You're saying Zaibach might possibly have a spy and you believe this because magic told you…" he shrugged his thin shoulders and his orange jacket lifted on his stomach. "I'd probably believe you more than anyone else."
To Van's displeasure, he noticed Hitomi's cheeks blush slightly at the compliment. "I didn't have a clue until I met Van. Honestly, I thought magic was extinct. But… ever since I started this journey with him and Chordata, I've been seeing things. Weird things." She shook her head and whispered, "Would you mind continuing your story, Thaioden? You are helping to answer a lot of these questions – or at least, connect a few dots."
The owner snorted a laugh. "Sure thing, hon, let's see. Where was I? Guitomia? After Dryden made it to Guitoma, only several days later, Millerna showed up; having been spirited away from the alchemy bomb by Allen Schezar. Allen and Millerna convince the Guitomian Government to give them Foreign Sanction from within their borders – nice of them. Though Meiden had given a 'verbal confession' as the instigator of the bomb, it was still a nuclear device from Joko. As a will of good faith to Austuria and her tragedy, Britonia declared war against Joko. That next day Freud took up arms against Britonia in defense of Joko. The Guitoma Samurai, at last, signed to be allies with Austuria and Britonia. And – as Millerna took over the Austurian Legionnaires, I imagine you can tell me what happened next." He gestured to Hitomi with long ringed fingers.
"The Betrayal of Blood… The Battle of Four Rivers."
"Precisely."
The girl blinked and a realization crossed her mind. "Everyone was taken in by the Betrayal. Everyone acted as if under some curse or spell, but Millerna escaped because of a merchant…" She gasped. "My father's journal mentioned an unnamed merchant saving Princess Millerna in Guitoma! And she… she must have then… they fell in… Oh!" Standing from her arm-chair, she took several steps towards the fireplace and turned to face both men with a wide smile on her face. "Millerna and Dryden fell in love!"
"If you want to make a romance novel out of it," Thaioden chuckled. "Almost mortally wounded from his escape, Dryden wrote about how the Warrior Princess nursed him back to health with the power of her love. Honestly, I am totes glad I didn't inherit any of his flair for the dramatics."
"And he saved her life in Guitoma. They escaped!"
"Dryden and Warrior Princess hid out in the Washlands until Austuria was called for the Waterfall Peace Negotiations of 1636 with Zaibach's fragile Emperor as the delegate between countries. Like Joko, Freud, and Fanelia, Austuria was convinced to follow a more democratic approach to diplomacy. A three way rule of Oligarchs. Millerna never got her throne back. So, ironically enough, couple moved to Joko – the place of their once sworn enemy. And our line divides here, I'm afraid. I retained the unfortunate name of Fassa, and you are, thankfully, not once, not twice, but four times removed from the name. I'd be happy to be further than that."
"So, Millerna Aston is… from a distance, my great-great-great grandmother?"
Thaioden shrugged, but a twinkle hit his dark eye. "Close enough."
"I've got royal blood in me?" She couldn't seem to connect that particular dot.
"Maybe a smidgen."
"I'm really related to her? Really?"
"You said something before," Van inquired lowly, breaking Hitomi's quest for more clarification for an already fully answered question. "You mentioned her father was here for two reasons. One was for ancestry. Might I inquire for an explanation as to what the other reason was?"
A brush of something dark crossed behind Thaioden's usually cheerful eyes. "Ah, yes, I promised I'd tell you about him, didn't I?"
As Hitomi nodded solemnly, Van noticed her fingers were back to fidgeting in her lap.
The owner sighed, "Well, I might as well get started… I met your father when I was just a lowly bartender in an even shadier part of this city – on the east side if you want specifics. He had hunted me down, following the ancestral tree with the determination of a bloodhound. I'll admit I wasn't as… plucky of a person as I am today. He sat down at my bar, asked me questions, so many questions. Many of them personal – who was my mother? My father? Did I have any cousins I was aware of? Did I have any documentation on certain ancestors? I kicked him out of my bar numerous times, yet he found his way back in; crawling through back windows, the bathroom, sneaking up through my basement. It wasn't until he actually saved my life one night during a bar fight that I began to actually speak reasonably to the guy. Of course, he had cause the fight to begin with accidently knocking into a whiskey glass and spilling it over some tough guy's lap, but still, he brained that particularly nasty man on the head with a soda spout and actually threw a chair at another bloke who was coming after me. It's strange how friendships can be made during the weirdest scenarios. With bottles and people flying through the air, he and I hid behind the counter and shared a good laugh." Thaioden's lined face turned wistful, "Don't get me wrong, I admire your daddy, but that little shared laughed opened up the floodgates. He spent hours making me talk about my personal life, my goals, what type of whiskey I liked the best. Eventually, buying me shots of my favorite liquor – that little sneak – he got Dryden's Memoirs out of me and my teary confession of my last name. Oh, bring on the questions, billions and billions of them. If I could have my own bar, what would I name it? Why? What is it based off of? He spent a full month writing notes, documenting from Dryden all that had happened. I learned a week later he was also sending letters to his family. Always signing them with the backwards acronym of my future bar, always finishing it off with the strange little poem about shouting sonnets."
"Do read a good old novel, sweet little angel yell every romantic sonnet…" she recited quietly.
Thaioden's face fell slightly, his wrinkled mouth becoming even more lined. "And then he left. One night, poof, gone. I never knew where he went, little Kanzaki, and I didn't search for him. I eventually got my own place, named my bar, and I forgot about him. It wasn't until about five years later; I walked into my place after my bar closed down to find him crashed on my stupid love-seat like the smuck owned the place. He was terribly thin, starved. Bruises up and down his arms and ankles like… like he had been shackled. He refused to talk about it, ever the comforting fool he was, and… it was strange how eventually we fell back into the routine of his never-ending questions, him sitting up at night studying his notes over and over.
"Another month passed and I was able to turn the tables around. I started drilling the questions the same way he drilled me, but he evaded them. He grew almost haunted in a way. His obsession no longer on his ancestry, but on something else. It was one particular night he was more vulnerable than usual. Apparently it was someone's birthday and he'd missed it again that year." Hitomi's head bowed slightly and she narrowed her eyes at her twisting fingers. "I finally got him to confess by serving him several shots of that same damn whiskey he'd gotten me with years ago… and he told me he needed to find it before Zaibach found him – they were already on his tail by then. I didn't know it at the time, but he had already dug up a lot more than he could chew at that point. He…" Thaioden took a deep breath and his face fell uncharacteristically serious and drawn. "I don't know if you want to hear this, hon."
"Tell me," she said immediately. Her head straightened up, but Van could see her arms quaking. "I have to know. This is something I've been waiting to hear for a long time, Thaioden."
The man rubbed his face and leaned his chin on the palm of his hand. "He was determined to be the one to find it. He was convinced that it was the only way to make things right. In fact, he was practically obsessed with it by the end. He disappeared after that night, leaving a note to mail the journal to his daughter – meaning you, I've now discovered. 'Maybe she'll have more luck than her dad.'" The owner sighed quietly and scratched his thin forearm through his fluffy sleeve.
"So, Zaibach caught him after he left you…" she whispered breathlessly. Van's eyes watched her, a twist of anger increasing with each passing second.
"Your guess is as good as mine, but that's what I'm leaning towards…" he answered with equal solemnity. "I guess they didn't expect you to pop up declaring the same gibberish he was."
Van shifted his feet, feeling the heavy weight of an intruder on a private funeral service. He actually winced slightly as his sword scraped the bookshelf again. Flipping his mahogany eyes over to the girl sitting in front of him, he swallowed down a thick feeling that was lodged in his throat. He wanted to do something. Had to do something soon. Van's hands twitched at his side. Her entire body was shaking now, obviously holding back tears –
And Van found that he could hardly stand it for some reason. He forced himself to remain still, but his joints ached to move closer. He didn't want to be behind her anymore. He wanted her to look for him.
"So what was he after? What was the thing he needed?"
"Before I tell you, I need a question answered." Van blinked. The question was directed at him. The older man's eyes had glinted up to focus on him; the dark orbs playing with the firelight, dancing strangely. "I won't tell her until I know something."
Just what was this man playing at? Van scowled openly at the bar owner, angry enough to punch him. Scratch that, let's cut off a limb or two.
"But you promised you'd tell me everything." Hitomi pleaded.
Thaioden, instead of answering, kept his gaze on Van. His eyes secreted, but somehow encroaching into the king's inner thoughts. Van felt the oncoming threat and met that stare defiantly. Hitomi stood from her chair and turned to Van in confusion. He ignored her and pushed forward from leaning against the shelves. Taking a step closer, he gave only one short nod of consent, never blinking, never taking his eyes from the confrontation.
The bartender was entirely serious now. The room hushed except for the merrily crackling fire.
And finally:
"What is your last name?"
She gasped and her fingers flew to her mouth. Van's body was completely calm, but his heart thundered wildly in his chest, pulsing hard in his brain. His right hand clasped on the hilt of his sword on reflex. "If I tell you, will you answer her questions and stop toying with her?" His voice was more spiteful than he wanted; she shifted her wide green eyes from Van to Thaioden and back again. Her mouth had fallen open in shock.
"I will tell her everything." The owner promised, shifting off the table to take a step towards Van.
"Van, no!" She cried out. "You don't have to-"
"I do not trust you, Thaioden. I probably never will. I will show you because…" Van swallowed before muttering, "Because she needs this. She needs the answers."
"Van, don't!"
Letting his mahogany eyes never leave Thaioden's, he lifted steady fingers and took of his cap. His dark hair fell into his eyes and the navy hat fell to the ground. With his other hand, he pulled up his secret that was chained around his neck. The pink pendant glowed almost translucently in the firelight. Taking the necklace off, he held it out and it swung lazily in the air.
"Touch the stone and you will know."
Thaioden gave a ghost of a smile, his eyebrows hitching together with suspicion before stepping around several arm-chairs and letting his pointer finger connect to pendant. Hitomi gasped beside Van, but he refused to look at her. He couldn't. Why was he doing this? Why was he letting this man in because of her? Thaioden was tricky; one moment treating them with the graciousness of a host and the next, manipulating, deceiving. He might be on their side, but there was something off-putting about the man. Van's heart pounded so loudly, he could feel it thick and hard in his ears. He couldn't look at her. Even when she stepped around her chair and looked up at him with those disbelieving eyes.
It was only a breathless moment, but the vision was there and gone.
And the look in Thaioden's wise eyes told him he already had figured it out long ago. With a hidden satisfaction, he realized he was taller than Thaioden. Out of anger, out of frustration, out of pride, Van lowered the necklace and stood as tall as he could, and said with as much royal dignity as was in his blood:
"My name is Van Slanzar de Fanel: Seventy-fourth King of Fanelia, Last of the Draconian Race, Blood-bound Pilot to the Ispano Guymelef, Escaflowne."
Thaioden's lined face stretched into a slow blooming grin. With a quick flick of long brown locks over his shoulder, the owner gave one barking laugh.
"Now that is a title. It must either be destiny or irony, I'm really not sure I can differentiate between the two anymore."
"You have your answer," Van announced, stepping up further so that Thaioden had to either back away or look up to see his eyes. The owner chose to look up, his smile now visible strained by intimidation. "Now answer her question. What was he looking for?"
Despite the tension, the flamboyant man's sharp eyes never left Van's: "He was looking for you, but I guess his daughter found you instead…"
He shrugged and gave another fully wide grin.
"See what I mean? Ironic."
The first thing to spike her unconsciousness was her left foot. It started slow, like a small pricks of a dozen needles poking up her calf, into her thigh, stabbing up her spinal column, and into the nerve receptacles in her brain and back down the pathway to her toes. She let out a groan from a weak throat and it came out as a hissing wheeze. She tried to shift her leg.
That was when her foot erupted into agony. With a shrill cry that scratched her already raw throat, her eyes opened wide, but all she saw was darkness.
"Strategos Hatchet, she's finally awake again, sir." A throaty voice broke above her blind face. That was when she realized she was lying down, her arms and legs spread out like a stretched starfish. Pulling on her restraints, she let out another muffled moan at the pain in her foot. She was blind! What was happening? Hearing squeaks of leather soled shoes on tile, she sensed something warm lean over to hovering close to her cheek. As the person above her began to speak, there was a slightly sour smell with a coffee tinge. "Easy there, precious, we just got you awake again. Wanna lose the last toe you've got?"
The accent was undeniable.
She gave another rough cry as something clamped down hard on the last toe on her mutilated foot: her pinkie toe. She could feel the wet of her own blood seeping down her skin and tell-tale dripping off the table she was strapped to; falling mercilessly to the ground. More warm liquid wept out of four holes already there. The clamp tightened harder and she screamed. The pressure left after only a few minutes, but she already knew the toe was halfway severed to the bone.
She knew this feeling so well now.
"P-…P-P-P…" Her lips trembled and her body trembled, and she shook with the fear, the pain, the shock, and the cold. She was trapped. She was done. There was no escape like her friend. There was no one to come for her.
"Pleading for your life?" the coffee smelling breath asked with simple curiosity. "I really wish I could let you go, really I do. Regrettably, this is my job, miss, and I am very, very good at my job…"
"Jo-Jo-Jo…" her breath caught again in her tight chest and she had to cough. That only made her foot race even further with sickening pain. The clamp came back and she screamed again; her blind head swimming in and out as the tool fixed with a carving twist back on the incision it had already made.
"Joko, we know, you've already told us that's where your little friend is at. You have to do better than that, miss"
The clamp snapped together and she shrieked, pulling on her restrains, her blind eyes flooding with tears. They were patient with her. They let her scream. They let her cry. They listened silently at her pleas, her mumbling words, and the gibberish that kept erupting from her fiery throat. They waited for at least an hour for her to settle down into a steady weep. And then the coffee breath was back over her face: "you'll have to give us a little more information."
And she found herself nodded her head furiously.
Anything…
Anything they wanted…
Welcome to my crazy plotline! I expect some interesting reactions with all these reveals I've given. And I'm sorry if I'm late on any replies or comments. I'm going to be hella busy this entire rest of the week and weekend. A well needed break with my fellow otaku freaks! :)
I feel bad for that last scene. I really really do. I wish I could have put more V/H in there, but this is a slowly developing thing. I like to annoy myself with stories like this. But still, he tried to stick up for her. That counts for something. And honestly, writing a stoic Van is kind of fun. Hitomi has no idea whats going on in his mind and he's pretty much trying to hide every emotion he has available. Makes for all kinds of fun tension scenes.
But I'm ending it here and going to party. WHO WANTS TO COME WITH ME!? WHOOOOO! Party at A-Kon in DALLAS!
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