The Tooth

The Tooth

Dilandau seemed to float out of the room.

The kiss burned onto his lips, the rough reality, bruised and swollen red on his lips. He'd never imagined a kiss like that, the desire to kiss clouding his mind so completely: And with Miguel. Miguel was a weakness of his. He had known it. He had been careful to guard himself around him. Put up the shields set the boundaries. They come crashing down with a ripple, barely a heartbeat and he was lost. Lost to Miguel.

Gods this was dangerous stuff he was playing with. This passion made fire look like something you should give a blind infant. He'd never realized how deeply it could affect one. Anyone, even Dilandau.

It had seemed a joke before. Something he could mock, something he could chide. He saw the softness between Dallet and Guimel. He had picked up on that from the first time he saw them.

But it was something entirely different. Much more powerful.

He had thought that it would soften one. It would make him loose his edge. It was worse.

He was loosing control. The passions in him were stirring in him like the wind. No direction or focus. Just there waiting to be expressed.

He caught his breath, bedding a dragon slayer was unimaginable.

Chesta, he'd probably crush the little prude. Gatti, other than having a voracious attraction to anything female, would probably spend the whole time trying to mount him just so he wouldn't be defeated. When Dilandau would take him he'd probably demand a rematch to try to dominate him again. Dilandau had never been a third wheel and so he never thought of Guimel. Dallet guarded him with ferocity. He didn't like Dallet much anyway, he had long hair like a girl, babbled and was too pushy, maybe worse than Gatti. He would be a little subtler, but in the end the young Lord Dallet would think he could possess him, like he possessed Guimel.

And then there was Miguel.

Miguel. There was nothing extraordinary or exotic about him. He had plain brown hair and dark eyes. His skin was of no exquisite texture, his scent no perfume of the east. He was everything he was.

It wasn't his strength of character. If Dilandau had been interested in pride or strength of character he would have better examples. Chesta the monk, Folken… Miguel was sensible. Fine character and common sense don't match in this world. Miguel had not fended of the forces of Astoria. He had been a whore for Zai's sake.

There was something that stirred inside of him thinking about that. Some juicy fantasy of an overstressed mind, he had thought. There were some things you couldn't learn in the centers. Imagining what Miguel could teach him, letting the professional handle it.

It wasn't because of the romantic delusions he had about whores. They were miserable wretched people who lived horrible lives. There was nothing romantic about it. Dilandau's interest was only practical. Maybe his attraction was practicality. Miguel would have been an experienced and gentle lover, and yet at the same time never forget his place. Dilandau was a citizen. Miguel was his slave. Miguel knew that keenly. He knew the honors Dilandau heaped upon him as a mere slave. The Dragon Slayers didn't know. They thought Dilandau had freed him.

But Dilandau could not change him. Dilandau knew that. Miguel was born to serve. It wasn't something that came at a great sacrifice to him. It was in his nature. It had all begun when Dilandau was thirteen. He was boarding in one of the seacoast ports of Zaibach. While traveling the city he had seen the whores on the street corners. When he saw Miguel and his colleagues down there on the streets, peddling himself, it hit Dilandau like a flash there.

What are all the oaths on Earth? Nothing. There is one true master and that is survival. None of mine need me to survive. They will pledge themselves to me, but it will only be ideas. None of them need me.

His solution was to purchase Miguel. He was a good age, trained well, but his age would blend in with others. As if he was one of them. The bond between them was unspoken. No one ever mentioned it. He doubted Guimel even knew.

Dilandau knew that Miguel would really and truly do anything for him. He would sacrifice himself in anyway to please him. In a way Miguel was as cold as he, locked into unwavering servitude. He knew what it was liked to be trapped to serve. To have something built into your nature, to exist like a shadow.

They did not need their own souls. A whore and a perfect soldier needed no faces, no identity. Just to exist. They disappeared and were reborn everyday. Cosmically they both meant little.

Miguel was one of them.

But he wasn't.

Miguel was his.

His distaste about slavery burned his tongue. He hated slaves. Slaves were stupid and vulgar. They deserved their fate. It was how the order of the world was protected. He never voiced any objections to the order of society. He just didn't believe them and that was good enough for him.

Dallet walked down the hall towards him.

"Dilandau-sama." He bowed.

Whatever Dallet was doing, his grin always dissolved when he saw Dilandau. Was it the keen knowledge that there was one promise that outweighed even his love of Guimel? It was probably that he was afraid Dilandau would smack him.

Dilandau had not wanted to see them, any of them. The kiss on his lips felt as fresh and obvious as it had when he had stolen it. Was he feeling ashamed? He wished he could see his face if he was blushing or not. No one would tell him what he looked like. Once he had a grey streak of dust on his cheek no one told him all day.

Dallet was obviously padding out of Guimel's room. That was the liberty of idiots and soldiers. That was something expected. Dallet could bone the entire kitchen staff of the Vione and come staggering out of the room and no one would talk. He could even come out of Guimel's room, the flush creeping over his delicate olive features.

"I suggest you return to your chambers."

"Of course."

"How is Guimel?" Dilandau threw casually.

"Sleeping…" Dallet said letting his guard down. Dilandau stared at him as the Dragon Slayer snapped up the bait from his trap.

"Of course I would guess… I wouldn't know what he's doing… I can't see through walls or…"

Dilandau snorted, "I'll walk away and give you the chance of shutting your mouth. Be more subtle, Dallet. I'm not always be here to get you out of deep shit."

Dallet grinned like he was going to throw up.

"Sleep well Dilandau-sama. You don't look so good."

Dilandau didn't turn around.

"Kind of flushed. Red around the-"

Dilandau glared at him

"Or not… I'll leave now."

Dallet scurried away.

Dilandau scowled, he didn't need Dallet talking about this. There was little doubt his family's history was riddled with intrigue. It was a condition bred into him deeper than his fine noble looks. This wasn't a world of liaisons and mystery and romance. This was a cold world. Where they were about to die and sex was about the best feeling they could get their hands on, even if it was with a boy, even if it wasn't always perfect. There was no currency in scandal. It was war.

Dallet was the kind of person who would have thrived in the peacetime ins and outs of courtly love. He knew how to gossip better than anyone he knew. Dilandau could picture him outside of war. A real cad. A thousand pimps for a thousand fair ladies in a thousand homes, handing him their love tokens and dropping him their gloves. Gatti would probably even pimp for him. Exchanging love notes and presents. There was always room in the universe for boys like Gatti.

But instead Dallet was stuck a few miles in the air, screwing a smaller weaker boy, barely his own age (which was already too young). It was barely consensual. Except on a few steamy occasions.

Before the war, Guimel probably never would have caught Dallet's attention. He would have lived and died a priest in a quiet little temple, with a little family, maybe an old horse, a goat and a few chickens.

Chesta would have been a priest, in college learning the law. Miguel would be there on the streets if STD's or an angry pimp didn't kill him first.

They had all grown beyond his wildest dreams, from faded flowers, to these his soldiers. These vicious matchless warriors. His warriors. His. He had taken them out of their lives and made them, as they were, beautiful, dangerous and wild.

Knowing the secret.

If it had been any other kind of world, he, Dilandau, would not exist.

His purpose in life was to rule them. To make them like this. There wasn't any room for these other feelings. Feelings meant so little in days like this Things that would fade after a while, disappear after death. It would be selfish to think he could… He did like them. But it was only amusement. It meant nothing if he lost his purpose in their eyes.

He had been stressed out. He knew that too. It had been a quirk of his never to acknowledge his sexuality. It had been a mistake of course. It had created too much stress between him and his men, too much tension. It had been a pleasant eccentricity as a child. But he was 15. His sexuality was unavoidable. To try to deny it would just distract him. His fantasies would overpower him, until he really couldn't control himself. He had liked his virginity he supposed. It was pleasant to stay above that mess. It looked rather messy, pointless and tiring. His explorations with Van had taught him otherwise. He smirked.

That would be best. Stick to Van. He was gorgeous. With a thousand tastes and textures to his skin and his sky colored hair, and the sweaty curves of his flesh.

Eventually this would sort itself out.

Van noticed Dilandau's shadow creeping over the edge of his door.

Van sat up, all his guards were up. His body could remember what his mind could not. His body tensed in fear and pain, sending a spasm down his back.

"Are you a dream?"

"Not tonight…." Dilandau was framed in dim light. "You could tug on your ear and nothing would happen. I'd still be here."

Van slipped back into the bed. He was trembling a little all ready. Dilandau would see it. He would see Van was weak. Van felt like a desert toad floating in a lake, struggling to stay afloat in the cool water.

"Where is Miguel?" Van said struggling to keep his voice strong.

"Miguel is sleeping. You're awfully good at remembering names."

"He's the only person I've spoken with since… I got here… how long have I been here?"

"A few days."

Van tugged on his ear an old superstition. But nothing dissipated. Dilandau seemed to float towards him.

"And you are Dilandau, Captain of the Dragon Slayers, Current Vice Commander of The Vione. Miguel's captain and my brothers subordinate."

Dilandau smirked.

"How did you figure all this out?"

"My brother called you Dilandau didn't he? Miguel said you were his commander, and my brother threw you out of my room."

"You are clever."

"I pay attention and I don't think of people as dirt. If you hadn't have been so damn imperious at Allen Schezar's you would have guessed who I was too."

Dilandau's eyes sparked with recognition.

"Oh you were the brat who tried to get my goat. You had to hide behind that harlot from the East so I wouldn't kill you."

Van gritted his teeth "Her name was Hitomi Kanazaki."

Dilandau sniffed "Was. It's not like she would care now, unless you believe in ghosts. Frankly even if I did I doubt we should fear a whore's ghost."

Van knew he couldn't lose his temper, not now. That cold gaze was just waiting for him to fall apart and cry, to devour his frantic misery, each sob like a drop of sugar to be lapped up by him.

"Folken said I drew on you. I must apologize. I was quite addled at the time."

"Why should you apologize?"

"I'm so sorry I scared you. I wouldn't think a cowardly barbarian would startle you so much."

Dilandau probably wouldn't catch the sarcasm. Van had learned that some people weren't worth insulting. As a king it was paramount to know the difference.

"Why wouldn't you try to attack me? You are a prisoner. It is your duty to escape."

Van let out one sharp laugh before he caught it on his lips. It never left his mouth. Escape. It struck him as humorous.

"Where to? Schezar left me to you. And I can't return home. You know this. Or at least Folken does. If I was any danger to you, I wouldn't have survived."

Van lowered his head "I don't even know why I'm here now. No one has told me why they want me to live. Fanelia is gone."

Dilandau was drawn towards him all the way to the bed itself. Van wanted more then anything him to leave. Any darkness or pain or torture was preferable than this warrior so close.

"It never changes. It will always happen. They always fall asleep. They die. They fail. But I am the one who has to suffer. They always leave me…" Van said. "It's only a matter of when."

"It will make you strong." Dilandau said. "It is good for a king to be strong. Maybe if you had been stronger we would have had a longer battle."

Van wasn't listening.

"They always leave and then…."

Dilandau looked intently. His deep eyes looked at him with a hunger so familiar, yet his face as hard and still as blizzard ice. Smooth and cool.

"And then it comes. You come…" Van said

Dilandau's gaze changed.

"You dream about me?"

Van's fingers were white as he clutched the blanket, tighter and tighter, trying to maintain some manly resolve, not let these nightmares take over. Maintain some dignity, in front of this shape of his dream.

Now there was no one or nothing left for him. His father dead, his mother abandoned him for her elder son and Folken… the traitor.

Now there was no Fanelia to return to. There wasn't even his duty. If Fanelia had survived he would have had to escape. But now…

"Tell me about your dreams Van." Dilandau's voice is as soft as a wind through reeds, with an edge of hurricane. It is beautiful. It sounded like a siren, like something you should hear only before you die.

"You'll come, when I'm alone. Like now, so much like now."

"Is that why you're trembling? Because this happened in the dream."

Van glared at him. "I'm not trembling." Van jumped off the bed crossing his arms standing as imperiously as he had learned. His legs were demanding to move

"You can barely breathe." Dilandau said. "Tell me more…" Dilandau stood up in front of him

But Dilandau never gave the impression of listening. He was coming so close. Why was Van letting him come so close? That clean soap scent, wicked and sweet, was as if he had no smell of his own. He wondered why a person would have no scent.

It was like this dream creature had no substance even when he was as alert and awake as he had ever been in his life. His heart pumped as if he were running. Every one of his senses panicking at some chaos about to fall. Dilandau edged him closer and closer against the wall.

Van paced towards the wall.

"You'll come and kiss me and…" Van's face darkened. "I can't- it's too vulgar to speak of. Too…" His head turned.

Dilandau hushed him, raising his bare finger to his lips. He had barely touched the trembling lips, feeling their soft length along his finger. That was all it took.

The Dragon Slayer placed his arms around Van.

"Angel, Tenchi, I want you."

Van broke away.

"What?"

"Let me take you." Dilandau said. He reached for Van's shoulder

"No." His hands spun as his shoved Dilandau away "Get your hands off me."

"Tenchi-sama, you don't understand. I'll die if I can't have you. I'll explode. You have to be reasonable."

"I hope you do die, you sick hentai."

Van was already backed into the wall. There was nowhere else he could run. There was nothing he could do to deny this nightmare of his. There was nothing else he could do to run.

Dilandau kissed him thrusting everything he had into the kiss.

There was a kiss that could suck out your soul. He wasn't a dream. Dilandau was there, pinning him against the wall with only his presence. He didn't even have to raise his hand. The only things trapping him were his two lips.

Dilandau finished his kiss. Van panted. Dilandau stroked his face and kissed him again, but not to kiss him, only to taunt Van's lips of the memory of the first kiss. His lips baiting Van's into deeper hunger with soft nibbles and caresses. The idea of Van awake and responsive was starting to appeal to him.

There was nothing he could do to run.

So Van punched him in the jaw.

It gave him time to slam his head on the floor. Van ran towards the bed looking for his weapon. He had left it there in case he came back. Dilandau pulled himself up.

But it was gone. His sword wasn't there. He wouldn't have time to find it.

It had been stupid to let him get away. If this was going to be hand-to-hand combat he should have knocked Dilandau out cold first.

Dilandau clutched his mouth, crumpled into himself

"That hurt." He said spitting out a larger tooth form the back off his mouth.

"Don't you come near me again," Van said. He grabbed the bed curtain for the rod, anything sharp and pointy enough... anything to defend himself.

Dilandau stood up.

"What are you going to do? Fight off the Elite of Zaibach with a curtain rod?"

Van realized how light his weapon must have been in he could rip it down. But Van held it as menacingly as he could.

"Put it down, Van."

Van realized how ridiculous he must have looked. But he couldn't let go of his weapon.

"You won't make it four feet out this door, not if I told them you struck me."

Van clutched it like a spoiled child.

"Miguel's out there. I could get him to slit your damn throat and he wouldn't even ask why."

He didn't say anything else. He only brushed aside Van's hands. The stick clattered against the ground bouncing against the floor.

Dilandau kissed him, lighter. This time he coaxed Van's tongue to explore his mouth. That felt nice. As nice as kissing him like that. So nice even Van couldn't help craning his head in. It was nice to be kissed. He'd have to remember that.

Dilandau whispered to him

"Did you feel that Van?"

Van tried to shove him away. Dilandau cuddled in pelvis first.

"You knocked out my tooth. Doesn't it feel strange? It still bleeds."

Van struggled against his grip.

"No one will ever know what you did to me. Only you and I and the medic."

Dilandau smiled through the pain there must have been. A dribble of blood flowed against his tooth.

Van shoved him away successfully this time. Van broke away and headed for the door.

"I think you put a hole in me on purpose. As a little souvenir."

Van blew past him and exited the room, without raising his head

Miguel roused as the angel boy exited the door.

"Have a nice nap?" Van-tenchi said. Miguel looked up at Van. The small boy was staring down at him bathed in righteous light "What kind of guard are you?"

"I'm not a guard I'm a Dragon Slayer." Miguel said.

The tears stung in his pupils.

"I'm going to go for a walk." Van-tenchi declared as a prince would "I don't think I'll need you to escort me."

"But Master Folken-"

Dilandau glared at him.

"Let him go." Dilandau said waving him off.

Miguel noticed that Dilandau sounded strange. He walked inside

"Are you all right Dilandau-sama?"

"No. He broke my tooth. That uptight little bitch."

Dilandau said muffled by his mouth catching his own blood, in a pool in his mouth. "What did I do wrong?"

Miguel stood over the bemused youth, clutching his lost tooth.

"Master perhaps we should head with speed to the infirmary. You don't want to lose your tooth."

"Oh right." Dilandau said.

***

Dilandau was a little stunned. Didn't Van beg for him to come only last night? Didn't Van want him? It wasn't possible. Didn't he know how he made him crazy? Van had to make some allowances.

Dilandau was incensed. He was overcome with his urge to fuck Van. It was irresistible that collection of golden curves, his warmth and beauty. Embracing him was losing all control. It was good. It was fun. It was like the Battle rush, the first drop in a guymelef. Before he would have said it was better than piloting. The artifice and control of being a good pilot was nice, but it took so much work. This was so different, an explosion of senseless beautiful pleasure. Surrendering to primal and letting the pleasure wash over you, into his partner, in sweat and cum and warmth. This must have been his destiny to do this. He knew it. He had long denied it. Knowing his only joy was his guymelef.

He felt the bloody hole where his tooth had been. He shivered. He couldn't remember the first tooth he lost to nature. It had been before… He knew you were supposed to bury them in a patch of Earth and a pixie would grow. He had images of a woman telling that to a little girl with blond pigtails. He doubted it was appropriate for such an injury.

The medic looked in his mouth.

" Yep it's gone. What happened?"

"Practice. Someone punched me in the jaw." Dilandau said plainly. The matter would be closed.

"Such a dedicated student for you to wake up before dawn.

"It won't be the same. It's too damaged. You don't have to hit so hard when you're sparring. It'll have to just attach an ivory implant there."

"A fake tooth. Forget it. Just put it back in.

"You won't even notice that it's there. It will be white. If you had lived in any other age you would have had to just leave it empty."

"How do I know that you won't put a camera or a device in there. Let's go."

"It is ridiculous. You don't need to suffer."

"It doesn't hurt. It feels fine. If you can't fix my tooth to the way it was before then I'll leave."

"Of course Dilandau-sama."

"Come Miguel. It's early. I have assignments before morning drills."

They left the infirmary.

Dilandau sat in his quarters punching in the duty roster, trying to find some rest before morning drill. They told him not to overtax himself. He knew he should be sleeping. Even his nightly candle had given up on him, sputtering into darkness. Instead he sat on the bed and felt the empty cavern in his mouth. A valley of flesh tingling and raw still exposed and bloody. His tongue scraped it, over and over as he sat.

What a strange and indescribable texture: slick and lumpy, raw, meaty, fleshy.

What a strange new gift from Van! First his body now this. No one could have seen what Van had done to him. No one would know if the Medic didn't tell anyone.

Here he was. He was still Dilandau. He still wore the armor and the sword. The Cicatrice was still his Alseides. He was the same height and breadth. But inside was something else. Still bleeding still there. It hurt deliciously. Sending a thrill down his spine.

It was a small thing, a part of him enlivened, bold. A vulnerable and raw part only he Miguel and the Medic knew existed.

Van. That was all it. Van. Not a new part of himself, but a new absence, a new vulnerability, hidden and guarded. He wondered if seducing Van would have been such a waste of time. Now that Van was angry.

His fascination about Van hadn't waned with the prospect of danger. He had so much fun breaking into his room. Sliding about the ship, crawling out windows, the pursuit enflamed him. And he couldn't hate the spark in Van's eyes when he swore.

Van stared out the window for the first time in all those days here.

The Gathering Earth.

A rock floated past the window. Like they were floating in an invisible river.

Van reached out his hand and touched it and pushed it back on his path. Feeling the dust on his hands.

The Earth was a dusty thing. Old. tired. Red. They call this the Death Glade. This isn't even a place of death; it's a place where there never could have been life. That's the way it is.

Van looked out at the ruddy hills, the wind blowing through his hair.

I'm not going to die here. He finally articulated to himself.

This isn't a place for death. It's a place for oblivion, nothingness.

He walked from the window.

Van would have to think about something else now. There was just nothing to it. He could never let his wings stop flapping, though the wind was great. Draconians didn't let themselves fall from the sky.

I'm not going to jump. So I'll just have to live

But he knew one thing about his life.

Dilandau.

He closed his eyes. Why did he dream these fancies? What purpose did they have? What message? If it was some deep unspoken and unknown passion, why did his skin curl into itself when he entered the room. Shouldn't the object of his nightly visions bring him joy?

He knew the simple answer why.

It hurts. He pounds me against the bed, until he is finished, whether I weep, whether I shout.

Van cringed at the thought, at the feeling of Dilandau slamming himself through him, as if he was some kind of goat, grazing on some honey clover, delighting and insensitive to my pain.

Van could only ask, why Dilandau? Why him? What message did he bring? What beauty did he possess?

If only he could leave his dreams out of it. He'd just have to. Whatever they were. Whatever dream vision was presented. He would ignore it.

Dilandau. He was a pretty boy. He was every bit as gorgeous and dangerous as he thought himself. Van's skin prickled at the thought. Like every nerve in his hand would straighten and stiffen.

His soft skin was clean and white like milk, like the way men dreamed the chaste White moon must taste. The first moon is made of milk, a brimming sloppy bowl of it, sipped out by the stars, the little rhymes for the smaller ones say.

Van told Folken that the Mystic Moon was a big blue cookie, covered in sugary vapors and sprinkled with good brownish new flour. But Folken had told him that was the Phantom Moon. Where demons and nightmares lived.

Dilandau would be there. Dilandau wanted him. Dilandau had taken him before.

***

Folken passed Dilandau. The boy looked particularly fiendish. He wondered what Dilandau had done to keep awake this long with that drawn vacant look, making you wonder if he wasn't just some deadly doll. For the past three days he had been running around. Not to mention helping guard Van from his nightmares.

"You should take a nap."

"The army is giving me children." Dilandau said, every nerve in his slim fifteen-year-old body snapping a jolt of lightning into his rant. "They are giving me green recruits. You know I'm not that good. They can't expect me to take on more. Half of them failed the Alley…"

Folken knew very little about the training of the dragon slayers. But he knew it had been harsh. He doubted he could pass. Dilandau was a merciless perfectionist.

"I appreciate your assistance with Van last night Dilandau."

"He's a nutcase." Dilandau muttered.

"I still have to ask your apologies. The drug was inappropriate. Too much more of it and it will make him go mad."

Dilandau grinned, "He already apologized."

Folken shook his head "His bodies chemistry could be off and it could produce strange reactions. Rohypnol is known to cause disorientation, the external effects of inebriation. Like he was drunk."

"I don't need a lecture on biological chemistry from a Fanelian. I'll have my tutors mangle it for me."

"The disorientations have caused him to hallucinate. He said last night someone broke into his room."

Dilandau slid his hand over his leg back and forth contemplatively.

"Who? I doubt the Dragon Slayers care he's here. They think he is your property. They have too much discipline to challenge you. Besides that would be defying me. I told them no one should go near Folken's boy."

Folken shook his head.

"Folken's boy. What they must think of me." Folken said. "Must the minds of the young always be so low?"

Dilandau walked along side him. "It's what everyone else is too polite to say.

Folken said. "It will take a few hours for the drug to exit his system. By then Eriya and Narya should be here."

"You'd tell them?"

"Those two girls would probably find out before Adelphos. I can't hide anything from them." He smiled slightly "I miss them."

"I'll tell the boys to keep their eye out for the Terrigs."

"But not Gatti. They are very impressionable young ladies."

Dilandau felt a plume of smoke exit his tired brain. What did he care if some of his men flirted with them? They were older than most of the Dragon Slayers. If they couldn't handle a few come-ons they didn't belong out here anyway.

"Of course not. Now I can put that into the schedule."

"Thank you Dilandau."

Meanwhile the Dragon Slayers were sitting around for daily assignments. Gatti as the first officer of the Dragon Slayers read off the roster. Drills had been short this morning. Beta Squad sat waiting.

"I can't believe they reduce us to guard duty. As if we are like his troops. Where am I?" Dallet grumbled.

"Well zip it. You're off this morning." Gatti said.

"Yippee. I can go sit in my room for another three hours. Unless..." he cast a kiss over to Guimel, "there's always studying."

Guimel gnawed on his bar staring at Dallet, his little white teeth tearing into the nutribar inviting a reaction.

"We're on duty, we don't want to embarrass Dilandau-sama in front of Folken." Chesta said, pursing those pink little lips in his. Chesta may have looked younger than them but in reality he was probably about 68.

"And don't think we haven't figured out all those silly code words. If you studied as often as that you'd take Folken's job as the Strategos."

"We are studying." Guimel said "Biology, chemistry, anatomy..."

Chesta coughed. He tried to grab the bar so Guimel could no longer flirt. He shook his finger scolding the other Dragon Slayer.

"Just hose yourself down. Get some sleep Dallet." Gatti grinned.

"Miguel."

Miguel sat motionless in his chair.

"02 to 06." Gatti shouted

Gatti grabbed Guimel's nutribar and chucked it at Miguel's head.

"Have the courtesy to sleep with your eyes shut."

Miguel roused.

"Hey I was eating that." Guimel said.

"You weren't eating it anyway. Just trying to give Dallet a nosebleed."

"That's more important than eating." Guimel grabbed his gear.

Miguel stretched out.

"Sorry Gatti. I was up on a special assignment for Folken with Dilandau-sama."

Someone whistled. It didn't sound like Dallet. Miguel was too tired to care if it was anyone else.

"There's no mention of it here on the roster. You're a mess. Malliel, you do that double shift over in the transport. Miguel, sleep."

Gatti rarely ever kept the schedule exactly as Dilandau wrote it. Dilandau was a robot when it came to the schedules. Two three-hour shifts, one six. Two or three hours at the drills. Of course he rarely used the standard 24-hour scale. He used the diurnal 25-hour scale. It worked well in times of battle. But it got on your nerves when there was nothing to do.

Gatti would always tweak it here or there, make sure that if they got sick or injured they'd get more down time, or that they would have to pick up the slack.

"Chesta, you're escorting the transport coming at 11 hundred."

"Who's on it?"

Gatti punched a few keys.

"Oh you lucky SOB."

"Who is it?"

"The cat twins. If I had one of them...." Gatti said.

"They'd probably be sick." Dallet said.

"I'm sure they'd appreciate it. How does Folken keep them so faithful?"

"There must be something."

"What does he care? Folken has a boy now." Dallet informed them.

"What does he look like?" Chesta asked "Is he cute?"

"Well if he's a Fanelian they all look the same." Gatti said. "You know big fat, lumpy breasts, unibrows. Hideous."

"He wouldn't have breasts."

"Well it's probably the same thing. I mean if Fanelian women are dogs..."

"What about Folken? Chesta said. "He is very handsome."

"Folken isn't Fanelian anymore." Gatti said.

"But still his lineage is there. If Folken could be born there…"

"If Folken could be born there." Gatti mocked.

Guimel chuckled. The only way you could get a pulse on Chesta was to talk about Folken. He was smitten by him in a way a noble and upstanding Zaibach youth could never admit too. It was so utterly ridiculous. He fawned after him like a puppy. His eyes turned into wide stones every time Folken talked to him. It probably was the fact that Folken was not only handsome and brilliant and powerful and perfect, but that he was also in reality as duller than Chesta.

Despite the rumors, he didn't even sleep with the Leopard twins. He didn't have girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. He didn't even twitch one eye when his ship was over run by fifteen beautiful young boys. When Dilandau smiled at Commander Ruyon, the man bought him a solid gold riding crop. Folken only smiled back and shouted at him for scuffing his ship. Unless there was some hidden secret involving sheep or something, the man was an utter gentleman.

"I hope those two don't get jealous of the boy. That poor slave doesn't need that now."

"Maybe they will. Be quite a show." Gatti's eyes glazed over. Thinking of the gorgeous cat women fighting in a jealous rage.

"You haven't seen them in action. Those girls can mix it up."

"They've only been tested. They couldn't be as good as that. Women shirk at battle. As splendid as they are now, they won't be able to keep it up forever."

Two wild looking guymelefs with wide plumes of hair entered the bay. They dominated the squad of tiny Alseides.

The mouth hatch of the Terig guymelef opened up. Out of it popped a felis girl, about eighteen. Her features and body were a catlike paradox of beauty and viciousness, of her soft feminine curves and strong golden soul burning eyes. Her hair had an almost metallic sheen. Narya exited out of her Terrig.

She looked down onto the deck. A man-child held out his hand.

"Let me help you out."

The cat spun her golden head in his face and spat. He backed off.

Out of the other Terrig, her sister was getting out. She was a grey cat, lovingly referred to as silver. In reality her features were a lot softer. Her hair was grey to soft black. Her eyes weren't sharp, but their was a cruel and sensible way she held her head that managed to trick everyone she could be as violent as her sister. Her eyes were sad.

Eriya looked around.

"Um. May I-"

Eriya shook her head. "No thank you." Eriya needed no help.

"Who are you? Where's Folken?" Narya said.

"My name is… is Chesta."

Eriya blinked; lazy sad eyes on the boy, tossing words in low Fanelian to her sister's ear, nothing he could recognize.

"Folken is harboring vipers. How strange. Why would he call us if he has the Vipers?" There was no better word for the dragon slayers in their mind.

Narya dismounted out of her guymelef, by herself. She squeezed out. After such a long flight she was still strong enough to dismount by herself.

Narya helped Eriya out of hers.

"I guess I'm here to welcome you."

"I guess." Narya grumbled.

Chesta tried to smile. There was something very very beautiful about the twins. Even he knew, but that same thing made him quake a little.

They were the only female types who came on the Vione. He couldn't call them women. Even the average Felis good wife was a poor comparison. They were like no one in Zaibach.

Narya could have glared him into a corner. He felt silly. Just because she was strong enough to dismount the Terrig by herself. Dilandau had done that a thousand times and he was a human man, superior to the two felis girls in any way.

Chesta felt his heart race a little at the sight of them. Gatti would have been drooling on them in the first few minutes. He also would have been in a body cast soon after.

Then Folken came into the room. Narya lit up. Her smile burst on her face bright. Her eyes softened to two sweet pools of light.

"Folken-sama." She ran to him and hugged him. He kissed her on top of the head. Eriya laughed with her own smile, thin like a knife.

"Ever to serve you." Eriya said.

"My loves. How are you?" He brought the silver twin in for the hug.

"Zaibach is so cold this time of year without you." Narya whimpered.

"I'd say warm. The letters we've received from General Zodia, just scandalous. We might get a bad reputation if you don't return soon." Eriya said.

Narya snuggled into Folken. Her bad temper evaporated in seconds around Folken.

"We miss you so much Folken-sama." Narya cooed.

"You two have to stop flattering me. Have you had any guests to the house while I was gone, my loves?" Folken asked, "Any gentleman callers?" Folken smiled

"No." Narya said shocked. "Never."

"No. Only Zongief. It's these trials. They telecast them. They have made us popular, maybe even as popular as the Vi- The Dragon Slayers. We've been invited to the Mask this year. They want Narya to play the sun." Eriya said.

"It's important for you to keep busy."

"I'd much rather have you with us." Eriya said.

"We will be going home with someone."

"Who?" Narya clutched onto his arm. She could be such a child sometimes.

"Guess."

"No. That's not fair." Narya frowned playfully.

"If you hadn't have been so excited about it he would have told us."

"Why don't you just tell us Folken?"

"Such good news is meant to be a surprise anyway." Folken said. "Come now. Let's go."

Folken arrived in the room with two others. He watched them stare at the bed.

"Who is that? He smells familiar." Narya wondered aloud.

Folken smiled holding Narya close, "He's my brother."

Narya stared. "Brother?"

"Van? Little Van?" Eriya asked.

Narya seemed a little stunned. She had never imagined her Folken had another family.

"I knew you had a brother, but he's in Fanelia. How would he-"?

"Because the great invasion of Fanelia was a success."

They all lifted their heads to the voice. Dilandau stood outside the door. Dilandau smiled at them both. They curved their tails slightly. Like true cats judging an enemy.

Dilandau was shorter then either of them. The shadow did much for his height. It would have seemed silly in the context of pure daylight. When Folken had been a 15-year-old boy, he never would have dreamed of talking to a woman like that. But Dilandau never was a typical boy. On the outside of the door another Dragon Slayer waited staring.

"Congratulations, Dilandau-kun." Eriya saluted. "You do the Emperor proud."

"I thank you." Dilandau saluted back. "I hear they are calling out your unit to the front lines soon."

"Just me and my sister Dilandau-kun."

"Yes. It's a messy business. Soon we'll have to pull out all the stops to defeat our enemy."

Narya nodded silently, the fewer words wasted between them the better.

"You've certainly grown since we saw you last." Narya said.

Dilandau's back tensed at the veiled insult.

"Now nothing is keeping me from serving Zaibach to the fullest of my ability."

Dilandau knew a rival when he smelled one too. He knew that these two were on the verge of upstaging him. He had earned a lot of acclaim for the successful invasion. But the empire was as fickle as it's emperor. Favor could change when a wind blew too hard somewhere it wasn't supposed to.

Folken noticed the jealous tension in the young rivals' gaze and stance. He did not want to start up any quarrels right now. "We will wake Van up if we stay here much longer. He is not feeling well."

"I've heard." Dilandau said.

Eriya pulled in beside Van. Van shrunk back at the touch, but Eriya pet his head. She shook her head regretfully "Poor dear." What had the boy been through? The silver cat looked up at Folken "He has your smell. Your dignity and strength." Eriya always could sense a kindred spirit.

Narya sniffed him, a little less than impressed at this strange human. To her all men fell in the category of either Folken or enemy. Even the children, even that Man-Child Dragon Slayer "So what are they going to do with him?"

"I am taking him." Folken said shocked. "What else can we do?"

Narya looked at him. "With us?" her head cocked.

"Don't be silly Narya, of course with us." Eriya said. "He is Folken's brother." She smiled warmly.

"It may take a while. He has been sick."

"But with us. Will he want to?" Narya stared at him, much too sharply, to make it an innocent question.

"Why wouldn't he want to be with his own brother?" Eriya clutched Folken's arm "Folken will have his brother. Just like us."

Narya forgot to smile like Eriya was "Oh it will be lovely. He'll be in time for the Feast. Our orders did give us time off for the feast. Didn't they?"

"Even if they didn't I don't think you'd miss this one." Folken said. "I doubt you would do anything if you didn't want to."

Eriya chuckled. "When he is better he will come home."

"I just hope we'll be there."

***

Van sat in the corner of the room. Maybe he should start writing or something. Maybe he should try to move. See where they had put Escaflowne. Anything.

"So the twins are gone then."

Van heard his voice.

"I didn't want them interrupting us."

Van played with the dust in the corner.

"Van. Come here."

He looked up at the wall keeping his eyes away from Dilandau's.

"I see you must learn obedience if you are to survive."

"I'm not a dog." Van said.

"It doesn't take a lack of intelligence to be obedient."

Van walked over and looked Dilandau in the eye.

"Do I get a cookie?"

Dilandau grabbed him, held him tight. Van tossed him off

"If you touch me again and I'll kill you."

"And if you try to hit me again and I really will kill you." Dilandau said.

Van bowed his head.

"So all I have to do is hit you and I can escape all this?"

Dilandau held his hand.

"Let's not be children about this. Give me what I want and I won't hurt you." Dilandau said.

"You've already taken away everything I am." Van said, "You've dishonored me. Why shouldn't I try to kill us?"

Dilandau was still too close. His non-smell and his breath and that thin reedy voice, in his ear.

"It was a dishonor you'll get to survive. There's more dishonor in the world than you can imagine. I only took your virginity, you were going to lose it one day. You are an enemy, but before that you are beautiful. There are worse things to lose. I didn't want to beat you and ruin your beauty."

Van didn't look at him.

"It's not much, I ask for…"

"Just my honor."

"Just what it takes to survive," Dilandau's eyes seem to read him, "To do something that you don't want. That you would despise. That your very nature cringes at." There was another depth to his bloody eyes; maybe he knew something more about dishonor, "Because that is what you have to do."

"I can't do this." Van said trying to break away. He would be able to if he focused. They were still on the same level of skill, for Van's potential was not uncovered yet.

"Shush shush. I won't force you, but there will be a time when the world demands the sacrifice of that which you could never give. Your soul, your heart..."

His hands touched him along his hip "Your body."

His eyes burned a deadly dark gaze into him. He could feel the red heat scarring his skin. Dilandau forced the young king to look in his eyes.

"I won't."

Van could only put his hand against the doorframe, trying to get some energy from the hope he could run away.

"If you say no, I don't know what I'll do. I have to force you to do it Van. I don't know what would happen if you didn't let me have you. I need you."

Dilandau's fingers traced around his torso. Van felt each bone in his face, each tooth in his mouth tense trying to resist the hands on his body, holding him against the wall. Everything told him that he should run, before it happened again. His hand was free. Dilandau grabbed his wagging hand.

"If you don't, I'd get Gatti to kill you." He trapped Van's hand against the wall where it belonged. "Or Miguel. Or Biore. Whose ever closest."

"Folken would…"

"Folken can't command my men to do anything. They'll obey only me."

Van felt his belt come off.

"I feel sorry for them."

His pants loosened.

"I have to... they have to…"

His mind shut to the images of his imagination. What had Dilandau forced his men to do for him? He felt sick as he swallowed the sweat and snot into his stomach.

"What kind of pervert do you think I am? They are my soldiers." Dilandau swatted him, "A real warrior would never bed his soldiers. That's wrong. All I have is you, here, now."

"I'm not yours."

"I can tie you down Van, but it wouldn't count. You must give your body to me. How can the emperor trust you if you don't obey?"

"I never forgive you. I'll never love you."

Dilandau shrugged.

Van stared into Dilandau's eyes as it cornered him towards the bed, like an animal surrounded by fire.

Van knew he would lie down and take it.