Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates
Written by: Meghanna Starsong
"Chapter Fourteen"
Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the Escaflowne characters are mine, although I have inserted my own creations into this universe as well. Please do not steal my original characters or use them without my permission. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.
Author's Notes: Merle, being the clever feline she is, helps us get some potential answers.
Edited: 11/7/2017
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Merle entered Lord Van's chambers during the changing of the guards, but of the generals, Aldric was the one on duty that morning. He yawned a greeting to her, his brunet hair tousled even in its horsetail. The beard growth on his chin and the raccoon rings beneath his eyes hinted that he was not an early riser. Even his clothes, typically casual but neat, sported creases. He slithered out of the chair he had occupied and stretched his arms over his head, cracking his neck in the process. Only the jade-pommel sword at his hip lent him any current credibility as a warrior.
"Whatever god invented mornings needs to be severely punished by all the others." Aldric massaged his neck and groaned.
Merle teased, "Still waking up, are we?"
"This is a terrible hour," the general complained. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
"Aldric, it's half past eight."
"Waking before noon is insanity!"
The Catgirl rolled her blue eyes. "You're just too lazy."
"Oh, the pain! My poor, ill-treated heart! Your cruel words wound me, Lady Merle!" He gasped, brought both hands over his chest, and screwed his face into a woebegone expression.
Of all the people in the castle, Aldric with his playful humor was one of Merle's favorites. Nonetheless, to keep his ego from inflating further, she wasn't going to tell him that.
Beaming, she removed a ceramic mug of spiced tea from her serving tray. Steam wafted up from the tawny liquid in runic coils. She deposited it onto a table along with a plate of buttered toast, a glazed apple fritter, and cooked eggs with accompanying silverware.
"The kitchen sent up breakfast for whoever was here with Lord Van. Try eating." She nodded at the cup. "That tea should help. It's Cook Astor's own concoction."
Encouraged, Aldric repositioned his chair at the table and sawed into an egg with a fork and knife. "No sausage? A man needs meat! I'll wither away without it."
"Bring it up with Astor." Merle shrugged a shoulder and ambled over to Lord Van's bedroom door. The oval tray, covered by a silver lid, jingled with her footsteps.
"There was some excitement last night," Aldric said slyly around a bite of toast.
Merle's tail slashed through the air as she halted. She whirled back to the general. "What do you mean?"
"Mm. Is there jam? I love jam."
"Aldric."
He gobbled up an end of the fritter and batted his eyes coquettishly at her. "Merle, you need to try this breaded-fruit-thing."
"That's a fritter, idiot," she sighed. "What happened to Lord Van last night?"
"He had a visitor." Aldric dabbed elegantly at his mouth with a napkin.
"How? Trigornia was-"
The general was positively mirthful. "Enraged. His whole face was red. Even his mustache. I've never seen anyone turn that color before. It was very striking."
"Who was it?" Merle's tufted ears swiveled back and forth in annoyance.
Aldric glanced sideways at the Catgirl. "Your old friend, our resident Mystic Moonling."
Merle's eyes flashed, the pupils contracting. "Hitomi came?"
"And quite late. Torg gave me the juicy details on the state of her wardrobe. Well, goodness, more like the lack of. Did you know-"
"I'm going to use your face for a scratching post if you don't behave. Believe me, I'll make good use of that stubble you're growing." To emphasize her words, she transferred the tray to one arm and the bulge of her hip and unsheathed the claws of her free hand. They glimmered translucently, half-mooned scythes.
"Fine. Spoil sport." The general pouted as prettily as any princess. "Torg and Mel let Hitomi see King Van. She spoke to him, although we don't know what about. I guess they had a fight. Lots of yelling and then came the bellowed summons from our infamous Dragon. Mel ushered Lady Hitomi back to her room in tears, and Torg received a lecture from the king. Apparently, King Van learned some colorful turns-of-phrase during his boyhood travels."
"I'm not surprised. Back then, we hung around some unsavory Asturian soldiers and a perverted Moleman. You have previous company to thank for that." The Catgirl switched the tray back to both arms. "Someone needs to rein in Torg anyways. He'll get too comfortable with doing whatever he wants otherwise."
"Aren't you just a fur ball of empathy?"
She stuck her pink tongue out at him, tweaked the doorknob, and glided nimbly into the bedchamber. Later, she would thank Aldric for his information. At the moment, she was more concerned about what had transpired between Hitomi and Lord Van.
When Merle let herself in, both the physician, Baris, and the true healer, Dane, attended the king. They clucked and fretted over Lord Van, checking his heart and hypothesizing about his difficulty sleeping. They nattered on about herbal teas and medicinal potions. She couldn't see the monarch over their shoulders, but she heard the tired resignation of his voice in answer to their ministrations.
Dane waved his hands in sweeping motions over Lord Van and then companionably touched the king's wrist. Even from across the room, the Catgirl perceived the air currents altering bizarrely around the two men. A dense, static power saturated them. It shrouded Lord Van and the healer in an invisible bubble. As Baris and she watched, Dane reversed the damage of the prior two weeks, restoring more of Lord Van's vitality, putting fat back on his body, and erasing the corporeal signs of disease.
She wanted to go to Lord Van, but from previous experience, Merle understood it was better for her to stay back. During the initial sessions with Dane, she had hovered warily nearby, supervising the bespectacled healer's proximity to her liege. As those sittings had worn on, her fur had crackled, gone vertical, and finally poofed. Every follicle had fluffed to thrice its regular diameter, even the shorthairs on her triangular face. She had resembled one of the feather dusters the maids sometimes employed around the castle. It had been too embarrassing, particularly when Trigornia and Baris, the stuffiest of Lord Van's servants, had hidden grins.
So, Merle waited for Dane's healing to conclude from a sensible distance. She arranged the table, clearing off the leftovers from the preceding night's dinner and dusting it with a napkin. She swapped the dishes from the tray for the used ones, being careful to keep the lid over the new meal. A maid had already refilled Lord Van's pitcher of drinking water on the table.
Dane, with Baris's backing, had limited Lord Van to simple meals of broth, porridge, and the like. The king never objected, his appetite still only half of what it should be. However, Cook Astor certainly had something to say every time Merle trekked down into the belly of the castle where the kitchens were. A beefy woman with flour on her cheeks, she had brandished a ladle like a sword during her gesticulations and complaints of Lord Van's malnourishment. More than once, Merle thanked the gods that she wasn't a scullery maid or one of the cook's many assistants. Although being a glorified handmaiden to a moody king isn't much better, she admitted to herself.
The eerie atmosphere around Dane and Lord Van dissolved away, and Merle exhaled in relief. Baris and Dane resumed their talk, milling away from the imposing bed. She glimpsed Lord Van, his cheeks rosy, his muscles rippling beneath his swarthy skin. His eyes met hers, darted to the doctors, and then to the breakfast table.
"I've decided to eat at the table today," Lord Van announced. The resolve in his voice masked his fatigue.
Baris arched his bushy eyebrows and glowered down at his patient. "That may not be wise, Sire. While your condition is improving, we don't want you to tire yourself needlessly."
Lord Van glared impressively back. "Crossing a room is hardly a strenuous activity."
"It is given your current condition, Your Highness," retorted the doctor, his eyelid twitching.
"I'm not spending all day in this bed again," the king fumed, scowling.
"We don't want to risk a relapse of your illness. Surely you can see-"
"I'm better than I've been in days. The hells with-"
"I think it's a good idea," Dane chimed in cheerily.
Baris and Lord Van ceased arguing and simultaneously pivoted towards the healer, wide-eyed. The man took his spectacles off and wiped them with a cloth he retrieved from his pants pocket. "It might be good for the king's morale. He'll need assistance, of course, so he doesn't strain himself."
Lord Van smirked, the victor. He shoved bedding aside even as Baris protested and jumped to aid him. The king's movements were precise, determined, and slow. He scooched to the edge of the mattress, maneuvered his legs over the side, and pushed himself up. Merle's ears picked up the creak of his knees and the pop of vertebrae. Baris jogged up the steps of the bed's dais and put an arm around Lord Van's waist to steady his quivering legs. The king clamped his teeth together and set off at a shuffle.
All too aware of her liege's tenacity and the uselessness of quarreling with him, Merle set a place for two at the table and raised the lid from the meal. So far, Cook Astor had adhered to the prescribed menu, but she garnished it to appease her need to feed. There was the usual porridge, bubbling beige, in its porcelain tub. Some additions surrounded it: condiment bowls of honey and sugar; dried berries and apple wedges; side plates of butter and toasted bread; cream in a spouted cup; a pudgy teapot with Astor's infamous brewed tea; and a glass of orange juice. The Catgirl pulled out a chair for the king and herself, glad to have a proper meal with Lord Van after so long without.
The pad of shoe leather behind Merle alerted her to a nearby presence. Her left ear flicked back, tracking the noise. A curly, strawberry-blond head poked over her shoulder, studying the layout of the table with excessive interest.
"That looks good," Dane appraised chirpily. He held a hand, palm up, over the meal.
Lately, the healer always managed to venture near to whatever sustenance Lord Van was brought and make strange gestures over it. Merle thought it beyond odd. What was the man doing, blessing the food and drink for some god? Was it a foreign eating custom where he came from? Either way, he's weird, Merle decided, the tip of her tail bobbing. Reminds me an awful lot of Hitomi.
Finishing whatever he was doing, Dane sashayed away from the table when Baris and Lord Van shambled over. The king, perspiration on his brow, crumpled into the chair, out of breath from his exertion. The freshly laundered nightshirt, this one maroon and laced appropriately at the chest, ended at his calves, effectively concealing his sensitive areas. Baris peevishly forced a black robe around Lord Van and fur-lined slippers onto his feet. Merle helped the king scoot closer to the table as he fumbled with the robe's sleeves and sloppily knotted the sash.
Once Lord Van was comfortable, Baris pointed his nose up and sniffed scornfully. "Enjoy your breakfast, Majesty."
"I will," the king said crisply. "You may go."
Dane and Baris bowed and departed the bedchamber, the door clicking after them. Once they were gone, Lord Van slouched back into his padded armchair, his defenses lowered. Walking down the dais to the table had sapped him of his bravado, but as Merle knew, he wouldn't show weakness in front of others. Only with her would he drop the façade of the stern warrior and capable monarch. She passed him a cloth napkin, and he accepted it, sopping up the moisture on his forehead and the contours of his face.
Apprehension eclipsed Merle's happiness of their intimate dining arrangement. "Are you well, Lord Van? I hope this wasn't too much for you."
"I'm alright, Merle." He graced her with a crooked smile as sweet as maple syrup. "I've missed our breakfasts."
"Me too." Blood pooled into her face. A tiny thrill shot down her spine and out her tail. She was grateful for the tan of her fur; it camouflaged her flush of pleasure. Before his illness, it had been routine for Merle to take breakfast with Lord Van as often as possible. Busy as he was with ruling Fanelia, the morning meals had kept the two of them close.
While he rested, Merle ladled porridge into a bowl for each of them. In hers, she mixed apples and poured herself some tea. Fanning himself with the napkin, Lord Van dumped honey and berries into his bowl, stirred, and added a dollop of cream. He also consented to the orange juice and toast from Merle. As the Catgirl ate, scarcely tasting her own porridge, she counted every spoonful of food consumed by Lord Van, measuring today's appetite against yesterday's.
The meal was unexpectedly quiet, though Merle had hoped otherwise. Lord Van gazed down into his bowl as if he skried for the future in mashed berries and congealing grains of porridge. When she asked questions, he responded in short bursts. He shoveled food into his mouth mechanically, although he emptied the bowl and chewed half a slice of toast. As he drank the juice, his hand sought the thread of a gold chain around his neck. His fingers worried the stone of Hitomi's old pendant, the jewel abnormally subdued since his brush with death.
Merle plucked at the pleated material of her skirt. She'd anticipated Lord Van's continued recuperation from his ordeal. She'd assumed he would still be exhausted and frail. What she hadn't predicted was this silence between them. Granted, Lord Van was not one to prattle on, but he'd normally converse with her, even confide in her if troubled. It was obvious that something preoccupied his thoughts, and whatever that was, it distracted him from her presence and caused him pain.
Merle braved to put her paw, claws retracted, over the king's larger hand. "What is it, Lord Van?"
His eyes refocused, a film lifting from their burgundy depths. "Nothing. I'm sorry. The healing must've drained me."
"Don't lie. You're terrible at it," she chided him. "I've always been beside you. Better than anyone else, I know when you're hiding something."
"Baris was right." His jaw set stubbornly. "I overdid it."
"What's going on, Lord Van? Today's breakfast was the most you've eaten in days. And you're sleeping badly. Don't deny it. The generals tell me that they hear you in your sleep, sometimes shouting or crying."
"How wonderful that I'm the center of such gossip!" he snapped.
Her ears flopped over. "It's not gossip. Everyone around you is worried. You're not your usual self."
He laughed sardonically. "And that surprises you all? I imagine that dying, twice now, would change a person in some way."
Merle licked her lips. "You're not dead, Lord Van. You're right here, right now. Alive."
"No, I'm resurrected." The lengthy fringe of his midnight bangs shaded his eyes. "And so damn helpless. Someone always has to save me. It's pathetic."
"That's not true! You're the best, bravest, most capable person I know! You've always protected others, including me. So what if you need help sometimes? That's part of being human." The Catgirl cupped his hand between both of hers and squeezed.
He turned his head away from her. His breathing quickened. His nostrils flared and chest rose in agitation.
She pleaded, "Lord Van, please talk to me."
Again, no answer.
"Does it have anything to do with that illness or why Dane is so keen on what you're eating? I remember the glaar leaves. Is someone poi-"
"No more of this!" Lord Van jerked his hand away from hers.
His withdrawal hurt her. Still, she must cross the chasm separating them. "I only want to help. I care about you."
"I know." He softened slightly. "As I do you. You're the only family I have. So, for that reason, no more questions. I don't want you involved further."
Family. What a beautiful, hateful word, Merle mused sadly. One of her waist length, watermelon-hued tresses slipped over a narrow shoulder. "What about Hitomi?"
The king's hands balled into fists, a habit that he'd developed in their childhood when he strove to contain his emotions. A trembling, so fine anyone without feline vision would miss it, suffused his form. His head remained down, his eyes obscured. Merle hadn't imagined it was possible, but his unshaven jaw tightened even more. Her sharp ears detected the crunch of his teeth.
"She came last night, didn't she?" The Catgirl spread the fingers of her paws across the table's surface. "Did she have a vision? Is that why she's here?"
He said, a little unevenly, "She's only temporarily on Gaea. She did have a vision. She came to help. Now that she has, she'll be returning to the Mystic Moon in two days."
Merle's whiskers drooped. "That's so soon. I haven't even had a chance to see her yet. Is she well?"
"Baris says she's regained most of her strength."
"Can't we ask her to stay for a little while? It's been years, and we should do something to express our gratitude."
"No!" he barked. "She's leaving as soon as possible."
"Did you two fight?" Her nails bit into the wood of the table.
Reaching the end of his patience, Lord Van snarled, "It's not your concern!"
"It is!" she insisted, her whiskers tensing. "She's my friend too!"
"She's going, and you will not see her. I forbid it!" An artery in his neck began to pulse, a sure sign of his temper rising. The ruby-chipped stud in his earlobe mirrored the sunlight streaming through the windows, flaming.
Merle's claws scratched the table. "You're sending her away."
Nothing.
"How could you?" she demanded softly. "You love her."
"Not anymore. That was over long ago." Lord Van's voice was husky, as if speaking around a lump of food in his throat. "There's nothing between us."
"Liar!" she shouted. The white, fuzzy wisps of fur on her shoulders and elbows elevated and her tail stood straight up.
A veneer of indifference screened his face. "Believe what you will."
"I thought better of you, but it seems I was wrong. Even now, you're pushing her away," Merle murmured, incredulous.
He swallowed.
"Do you think sending Hitomi back will protect her? I'm sure there's dangers on her own world. Do you feel unworthy of her? If so, that's too much romanticizing on your part, Lord Van." The Catgirl's agile mind sifted through motivations and circumstances, piecing them together. "Oh, no. It's political. It's the arranged marriage."
"I am Fanelia's king. I have a duty to uphold."
Merle's anger emboldened her. Sentiments she had reined in for months spilt off her tongue like water. "What about a duty to yourself? Or being honest about where your affections lie? This notion of an arranged marriage is ridiculous!"
"It's necessary!" Lord Van bristled. "Such a marriage will procure new trade contracts and bring increased prosperity to my people. It'll ensure Fanelia has dependable allies to call upon in times of need."
"Stop quoting the Council!" Merle yowled. "You sound like a brainwashed puppet!"
He bellowed back, "I'm no pawn! It is I who rules!"
"And it's consumed you!"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
She stabbed the air over the king's chest with her index finger, the claw still out. "What's ridiculous is that harem you're housing! What's ridiculous is Trigornia thinking that there's an ideal match for you amongst strangers! What's ridiculous is the Council haggling for a rich dowry!"
"Careful what you say," he cautioned darkly, one eye glaring at her through his bangs. "There are those in the castle that would call such talk treasonous."
"Who cares? Those men, absorbed by their political games, are fools. This entire situation demeans you as much as those women. It's like selling an animal off to the highest bidder!"
Lord Van hissed out a breath. "That's how it's done, Merle. Marriage amongst royalty is complicated."
"It wasn't for your parents." She folded her arms over her slight chest.
"A marriage by choice didn't end very well for them either, did it?" He snorted, pinching the pendant between his fingers.
"At least they loved each other!"
"And were persecuted and cursed until they died."
"Despite that, I'm sure they found a way to be happy. They wouldn't have had Lord Folken and you otherwise," Merle argued and swiped a wrist across her moist eyes.
"Perhaps they did," Lord Van conceded. "But you must understand that Folken and I weren't simply the fruit of their romance. Merle, my father was a king himself and an old one at that. He needed children."
"Are you saying that's what this arranged thing is about? Heirs?"
"If something happens to me, Fanelia must have a ruler. Birthing an heir is of the utmost importance, especially after recent events. It's what is best for the kingdom."
"What about what's best for you?" she countered. "Lord Van, I know. You've concealed it well from others, but I know why you resisted the idea of such a match until a few months ago. Why you never let any woman close to you, never took a mistress. Why you steal away to stare up at the moons. Why you call that name in your dreams."
"Stop," he whispered, almost desperately.
The Catgirl raged on, "And you're a fool to do anything other than follow your heart!"
"I'm done talking about this!" Lord Van abruptly rammed his chair back, the legs screeching against the stone. Leaning on the table, he clambered to his slippered feet. "You will respect my decisions, if not as your king, then as your brother."
Lord Van trundled from the table towards the dais with his colossal bed. His balance was off. He bent to his right, favoring his left side, a hand on his hip. He'd gone a few meters before Merle spoke again. "You're not my brother."
He stopped, his back to her.
"I'm in love with you. You already guessed that, didn't you? I know you don't feel the same. You never did. You never will." She flattened her sable ears against her skull. "Lord Van, seeing you with Hitomi when we were kids, that hurt me. But seeing you with anyone else now pretending to be happy, that'll kill me."
Before he could reply, Merle leapt to her feet, bumping the table. The dishes clattered and silverware clinked. The tea sloshed over the rim of her cup and into the saucer. Uncaring, the Catgirl bolted to the door. She hurled it open, slamming it against the wall. It was Aldric, not Lord Van, who called her name in bewilderment. She wrestled with the bigger door sealing the entrance to the royal chambers. Once she created a space wide enough to admit her through, she fell to all fours in the hallway and bounded away, dripping tears behind her.
Merle raced through the castle and up flights of narrow steps. Twice her dress caught on her sandaled feet and the hem ripped. Somehow, she kicked off the shoes, faster and more dexterous without them. She whizzed by aristocrats, pages, harem ladies and their servants, and a baffled head housekeeper named Berta. Out of the ajar shutters of a window, she scaled a prickly vine up to the roof. Her sleeve tore, and the thorns of the plant's monstrous tendrils scratched her arm. To the highest tower of the ancient stone structure she escaped.
With cat expertise, Merle ascended to the peak of the tower roof. She relied on the rough pads of her paws to prevent her from slipping on the azure tiles. Despite the morning sun, they were still cool underfoot. Finding a secure area, she anchored herself in place with the claws of her feet and collapsed onto the roof. Winding her arms around her legs, she buried her face in her knees and sobbed.
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Hitomi dozed late into the day. Not that it mattered. With the guard at her door, she couldn't exactly go anywhere. For what remained of the morning, she lay listlessly on the mattress, her eyes tracing patterns in the marble ceiling. Last night she had cried herself to sleep, and her eyes thanked her today by being puffy and bloodshot. Worse, she had no energy. All she could bring herself to do was replay last night's events and sink deeper into depression.
Eventually, there was a brisk rapping. The guard permitted the smartly dressed Berta in with a tray of edibles and a set of clothes. The housekeeper inspected Hitomi. She frowned at how the younger woman's nightgown was hiked high around her knees and the neckline unbuttoned to her sternum. Just to aggravate her, Hitomi propped her shoeless feet up on a pillow, the sheet only partially covering her thighs. One of Berta's pencil-thin eyebrows curved up at the display.
She set the items down on the table and strode over to the bed. "Lady Hitomi, it is almost one in the afternoon. Aren't you hungry? The maid assigned to you says you didn't want your breakfast tray."
"Mmm." It was all Hitomi could muster.
Berta gave her a scathing look. "Surely you won't receive your guest in such a disheveled state."
"Guest?" Hitomi perked up. Could it be Van?
"Yes. Sir Trigornia wishes to see you." Berta's lip curled. "Unless you are indisposed of."
Hitomi sighed forlornly. "I suppose it's fine. I don't have much else to do."
"My, my. I thought you might be too busy moping," the housekeeper quipped.
The Mystic Moonling grumbled and rotated onto her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. "You try being locked up all day."
"I'm sure His Highness has his reasons." Berta went to Hitomi's washbasin, dipped an unsoiled cloth in, and wrung it out. "According to palace chatter, an impromptu visit certainly could not have had anything to do with your current situation."
"He's just so…so…temperamental," Hitomi mumbled into the pillow.
The housekeeper smiled outright, kindness in her rain-gray eyes. "He's not known as the Dragon King for naught."
The display of humor on Berta's otherwise dispassionate face shocked Hitomi. She blinked at the woman as if she were a mole emerging from underground. The housekeeper laid the wet cloth over her sensitive eyes.
"Clean yourself up. Eat a meal. Sir Trigornia will be here in an hour," she said, and with the heels of her shoes clacking, exited the room.
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To Be Continued
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Wow! There was a huge surge in reviews this last time around. We have reached over 100 now. Yay! Thank you! *bows * I got so excited that I double-timed writing this chapter.
On another note, I want to recognize some new reviewers: Galerena, Kat, escawing, and Shadowsonic1. ^ _ ^
And to all the regular reviewers, I thank you for taking the time to support and offer suggestions for improvement in both this story and my writing. (I'm certainly learning a lot!) Your reviews and insights are valued more than I can ever express. It's been a long journey thus far, but I hope to continue it alongside you all. *big hugs and marshmallows! *