Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!
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By the time the airship touched down in the tiny valley of Fanelia, Carenza was almost sick with anticipation. The sun was rising above the mountains, waking the city to a new day. The seventeenth moon of Purple, Crystal North-east; Folken's fifteenth birthday. Was she too late to see him off for this Rite of Dragonslaying he spoke of? He wanted her to be there, but why the urgency? If it was anything like Asturian coming-of-age ceremonies it would be long, dull and probably in a dead language - unless it was one of those silly rites of manhood perpetuated by barbarians...Carenza was shocked at that thought. That was her father talking. The Fanelians weren't barbarians, just...old-fashioned. Besides, Folken was planning to lead his kingdom into the modern world.
By the looks of the city, it needed a little modernisation. The houses, though charming with their carved eaves and bamboo shutters, surely had only the most basic of amenities and were doubtless cold and draughty in the winter. And the streets - little more than dusty tracks between the houses. As they drove across a tiny square, still deep in shadow at this early hour, an old man with a face like a pickled walnut shuffled to the well and began to lower the bucket.
The palace, although much larger than the city houses, was of the same style. Wood and plaster walls rose above thick stone foundations, and even the gatehouse was mostly wooden. The carriage drew up at the gates, and a pair of armoured guards snapped to attention, their long-bladed polearms at the ready. Carenza threw a handful of coins to the driver of the carriage and approached them.
'My name is Carenza Fassa. I am here to see His Royal Highness Prince Folken Lacour de Fanel.'
After a long wait whilst the guard ambled back to the palace proper to check her credentials, Carenza was escorted to a garden behind one of the many buildings in the palace complex. Like the other Fanelian buildings it looked more like a summerhouse than a permanent dwelling; it even had a verandah of dark-stained wood around all four sides. The rising sun winked on dew-gemmed grass. In the bare branches of a willow, a pair of sparrows were quarrelling noisily, spiralling around one another in mock combat.
They were not the only ones so engaged. Folken was pacing the lawn, executing a series of stylised combat moves, like and yet unlike the fighting style of the knights in Asturia. His long, subtly-curved blade traced a pattern of graceful arcs, seemingly unhindered by the bulky upper-body armour he wore. Carenza and her escort watched for a moment until the prince stopped, sheathed his sword and bowed to his imaginary opponent.
'Folken-sama? Your visitor is here.' The servant bowed and left.
'Carenza! I thought you weren't coming!' He hugged her clumsily, crushing her face against the oversized shoulder-pad of his armour.
'You look like you really are off to slay a dragon,' she smiled.
'Of course.' He patted the scabbard on his hip.
'You're not serious? I thought it was some kind of symbolic thing, like the dragon-boat races in Jeture Harbour.'
She pulled away to get a better look at him. There was nothing of pageantry about his apparel. Those were real metal plates, and the leather padding was cracked along the creases. It all looked well-used and very...practical.
'Oh dear god.' The garden receded dizzyingly and then snapped back into focus, and she began to shake.
'I thought you knew,' said Folken, pushing a lock of damp silvery hair out of his eyes. 'I mean, everyone knows we have real dragons roaming wild in Fanelia. That's why I wanted to see you again before I left. In case-'
'No!'
Carenza turned blindly away, and her legs began to fold under her. She staggered towards the verandah and collapsed onto the steps. There was a jingling of buckles and a soft thud, then a decidely less armoured Folken sat down beside her and pulled her close. She resisted for a moment, then sank into his embrace, trembling.
'I'm sorry, beloved, I really thought you knew. It'll be all right, I promise.' He kissed her hair. 'Balgus is one of the three best swordsmen in all Gaea, and he's taught me everything I know.'
She tried to reply, but the lump in her throat blocked all sound. For a long time she just held him, breathing in the leather-and-oil scent left on his shirt by the armour. Gradually the shaking subsided, and the lump in her throat shrank a little.
Folken disengaged himself from her arms.
'I'm going to have to go soon,' he said. 'But there's something I want you to look after for me.'
He slipped a heavy gold ring off his right hand and held it up to the light. It was set with a large pinkish cabochon-cut gem, somewhat assymetrical in shape like a cowrie shell.
'The stone in this ring is called The Heart of Fanel. It is said to be a fragment of the original drag-energist used to power Escaflowne, the ancient guymelef belonging to my family. I don't know if that's true, but the stone is...attuned somehow to the royal bloodline of Fanelia. When a king of Fanelia dies, the stone darkens for a day and a night, until it attunes itself to his successor.'
Carenza just stared at him. This was just some crazed nightmare, from which she would soon wake. Wouldn't she?
'I know that part of the story is true,' Folken went on, 'because I saw it happen when my father died. I want you to keep it until I return. As long as the gem is bright and clear you will know that I still live, no matter what your heart fears.'
He pressed the ring into her palm, and her fingers closed around it of their own will.
'I'm never going to see you again,' she whispered.
'Yes you are. I promise, and a king never breaks his promises.'
'I should give something to you,' she cried. 'In Asturia it is traditional for a knight to wear his lady's favour when he rides into the lists.'
She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a velvet jewellery roll. Yes, how very appropriate.
'A heart for a heart,' she said, holding up a ruby earring. It was cut into a heart-shape, hanging from another smaller ruby that concealed the wire loop.
'I lost the other one of the pair,' she explained, 'but I liked it so much I kept it anyway. I know your ears aren't pierced, but you could hook the wire into your shirt or something...'
'I will wear it next to my own heart, for luck,' he said.
He stood to leave, then pulled her close to kiss her one last time. His lips pressed fiercely against hers, and his tongue quested between them to trace the sharp line of her teeth. Carenza felt a warmth sweep through her veins, a dizzying heat that pulled her until she seemed to be melting into him...Something hard pressed against her stomach. For a moment she thought it was just the sword hilt, but then Folken drew away, blushing.
'I-I'm sorry, it must just be battle nerves...I meant no disrespect-'
'It's all right,' she reassured him, and looked up shyly. 'Just save it for when you get back.'
He swallowed visibly.
'I hope queens-to-be keep their promises, too,' he murmured.
A queen. She hadn't really thought about it until this moment, but that was what marrying Folken meant. She suppressed a wild laugh. Marlene would be so jealous.
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Author's Note: I created the Heart of Fanel after deciding that I needed some tangible, albeit ambiguous, evidence of Folken's fate. It was only later that I re-watched the episode in which Hitomi compares her pendant to Escaflowne's energist, so maybe the idea was lurking in my subconscious all that time.
The name comes from a suggestion I came across that Folken's middle name is a mis-spelling of Lacoeur, i.e. French coeur 'heart', hence the brooch on his cloak. I like weaving patterns of images into my stories, so a heart it became. After that, the origin of his cloak-pin was obvious...