A/N: Here's the first chapter

A/N: Here's the first chapter. I dunno what to say. It's pretty boring… it'll liven up in a little while, but first I gotta get the boring beginning stuff outta the way… you know how it is! Well, that is all. I'm not going to bother with the disclaimer again… everyone knows I don't own it. –Nymphean

Chapter 1: Perchance to Dream

"To die; to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream…"

-William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Dryden Fassa straightened the collar of his shirt and rocked back easily onto the heels of his dusty boots. He whistled deeply as her stood before the gates of Schezar manor, gazing intently at the manicured front lawns and gardens, leading up to the sprawling old house. I can't believe it, a knight with good taste. Dryden laughed to himself and laid his finger on the buzzer. He gave his name and occupation to the disembodied voice that came through the small intercom, and was told to wait. The voice was female, He noted, and sounded quite bitter and self-involved. Dryden chuckled quietly. How very fitting.

Moments later, the gates before him swung open, moving as smoothly as the wonderful Sir Allen himself. Try as he might, Dryden couldn't hear a single rusty squeak to satisfy him of the manor's imperfection. Damn.

He was shown through the front door, down a long corridor, and to a set of large, ornately carved wooden doors. The maid who was serving as his escort -she could have also been the one on the intercom, thought Dryden, Her face would go perfectly with that voice- opened the doors and ushered him in.

"Dryden Fassa, sir."

Allen turned towards the doors and nodded icily towards the maid. "Thank you, Ezma. You are excused." The maid curtsied and went out the doors, closing them behind her. "Well. Dryden. To what do I owe this… honor?"

Dryden ignored the contemptuous tone with which Allen addressed him. "Why, can't I drop in on an old friend from time to time, just to say hello?"

Allen glared at him. "Perhaps you're unable to read between the lines, so let me make this nice and simple for you; what do you WANT, Fassa? And try to make it quick, I have things to do."

Dryden cocked his head in amusement. "As courteous as always, I see. Well, since you asked, I was actually wondering if you could do me a favor."

Allen started to reply, and then stopped before uttering a single word, letting his mouth hang open for a second. Then he snapped his jaws closed, a look of curiosity passing over his face. "Pardon? I must have heard wrong… Did you just ask me to do you a FAVOR?"

Dryden stuck his hands into his pockets, slouching comfortably. He was thoroughly enjoying every minute of this. "Yes, that's right. A favor."

It was Allen's turn to chuckle. He placed his hand on his forehead. "Are you MAD, Fassa? What would POSSIBLY make you think that I'd even CONSIDER doing YOU a favor?"

"Because I've done quite a number for you in recent years, and no matter how much you despise me, it would be dishonorable to turn me down."

Allen furrowed his brow. The insolent lunatic had a very valid point. He sighed. "As much as it pains me to say this, I AM required, by all laws of common decency, to oblige. So what is this 'favor' you would have me do?"

Dryden grinned. "I knew you'd come around. I need you to deliver a message to Princess Millerna for me. I don't trust any of my messengers to deliver it properly, and, although it kills me to admit it, you are one of the few people who I think can get close enough to the princess to pass the message on." He took a folded paper out of his pocket. "Here. Everything's in this letter." Allen reached out and snatched the letter angrily.

"I hope you realize I'm not doing this because I'm trying to be friendly," He said, placing the letter into one of the drawers in the desk between the two of them. Dryden shrugged.

"I wasn't trying to initiate friendship, but at the same time I saw no harm in being courteous. You, on the other hand, obviously did." He rocked back onto his heels. "Nice place you got here, Schezar." Allen scowled.

"Thank you," he said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, very nice…" Dryden said appraisingly. Then he caught Allen's eye, and, staring him down defiantly, asked, "And how's your sister? Celena, is it?"

Allen's face turned slightly pink. "My sister's well-being is of no concern to you."

Dryden grinned. "I see I've struck a nerve. So then the rumors are true, are they?"

"Not that it's any concern of yours," Allen said, trying to match Dryden's mocking tone, "But no. My sister is perfectly competent, thank you, but she has been very ill over the past year. This whole ordeal has been a very difficult… adjustment for her, but we really do think she may be coming around."

Dryden narrowed his eyes. "If you say so." Just then, both men heard the door creak open.

"Allen?" said a tentative voice from behind the door. Allen closed his eyes. Not now… my God… of all times…

"In here, Celena," He said weakly.

They both watched as the door was pushed open further, and Dryden heard Allen draw a quick breath.

Before them stood a tall, slender young woman with hair so light that it seemed to shine like silver in the sun. Allen stood for a moment, simply staring wide-eyed at the beautiful girl before him. She was dressed in a pale blue gown, and her wavy hair cascaded down her back like a small, silver waterfall. The gown was silk, Allen thought, or some other fine material, and it fell straight from her hips, accentuating her curves. She held her hands together in front of her legs, and she stood erect, composed, like a perfect young lady. Allen felt a hot, burning sensation behind his eyes. She was beautiful. His sister looked beautiful.

Celena nodded in his direction. "Good morning, brother. Did you sleep well?"

Allen blinked several times. "Yes," He answered shakily. "And yourself?"

"Better than I ever have, I believe." She started as she saw Dryden, and for a moment, Allen was afraid of what might happen. But she simply placed her hand against her breast and smiled with relief.

"You startled me," she said a little breathlessly. "I didn't know we had company. Allen always forgets to tell me these things, you see."

Dryden looked at her with… Allen felt like laughing. Was that SHOCK he saw flitting across that smug face? The merchant stuck out his hand. "I, too, have been ill-prepared for this meeting, lady Schezar. You brother, it seems, had neglected to inform me that I would have the privilege of meeting the beautiful lady of the house." He squeezed her hand lightly. "Dryden Fassa, at your service."

Celena laughed, not the twittering laugh of a young woman fooled by the charms of an older man, but a deep, intellectual laugh which seemed to say, 'we shall see about that, won't we?'. Allen was impressed to the point of being dumb-founded. When he finally found himself able to move, he walked around the desk to where his sister stood and put his arm around her.

"It's so good to see you up and dressed, Celena. You seem to be much better this morning." She looked up at him, and although her face was straight, Allen was certain he saw laughter in her eyes.

"Yes, I am. I woke up this morning and felt quite good, so I decided to get dressed and come to see you."

Dryden looked at Allen suspiciously, and then looked back at Celena with a kindness that seemed almost false. "Ah, yes… Allen has told me that you've been ill."

Celena nodded solemnly. "Yes, I'm afraid I have, but I'm all better now."

"Well, I hope it wasn't too painful, whatever it was."

Celena shook her head. "No, to be quite honest, I hardly remember it at all! Perhaps it was some kind of OW! Allen! What was that f…"

Allen shook his head slightly and Celena stopped talking. She brought a hand to her side and rubbed it discreetly, and Allen hoped he hadn't left an elbow-shaped bruise there.

"I think it's time Mr. Fassa got on his way," he said, glaring at Dryden.

"Ah, but then I won't have the pleasure of lady Celena's company," He replied. Allen drew in a deep breath.

"Then we shall walk you to the door, so as not to deprive you of an extra minute or two," he said stiffly, striding towards the doors. Dryden followed, his deep chuckle resonating off the high ceilings of Schezar manor. When the got to the front doors, Allen stepped aside to allow room for Dryden to pass.

"Good day, Mr. Fassa."

Dryden completely ignored him and turned towards Celena. "My lady," He said, taking her hand. "It has been a pleasure to finally meet you." And with that, he pulled her to him and kissed her on the cheek. Allen turned red with anger. "And you, Sir Allen," he said, letting go of Celena's hand. "Delightful, as always." His voice was thick with sarcasm that made Allen want to strangle him. Instead, he simply nodded and gestured towards the door. Dryden sauntered lazily down the front walk and out the gates, which Allen ordered closed the second he was sure Dryden had passed through them.

When he had closed the doors, he turned to Celena. "What happened?" He asked, still awe-struck. She shrugged.

"I really don't know, Allen. It was like I woke up from a really long sleep. The last thing I remember, I mean REALLY remember, is you finding me on that battlefield and taking me back home. Then I passed out, and I just have little snatches of memory… but I DO remember you saying that I was sick… How long has it been since the battle? A couple of weeks?"

Allen looked into her eyes. "You really don't remember anything?"

Celena shook her head. "No. Not really. Just flashes, here and there."

"Oh Celena…" Allen put his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Celena drew in a sharp breath, surprised by this outright display of affection. She knew her brother was not the type to let his feelings show, and she realized at that moment just how odd it was that she knew that at all. Her eyes widened with shock as Allen buried his face in her shoulder, the light blue silk turning dark as his tears fell onto it. Celena blinked in confusion. This wasn't right, this wasn't her brother, the brother who, she somehow knew, was the greatest knight in all of Asturia, and who won the hearts of princesses with the same ease that he won fencing matches. No, this weary, tired-looking man weeping on her shoulder, this was not the Allen whom the women swooned over and whom the little boys worshiped and admired. She patted his back gently, still confused by his outburst.

"Allen, what is it?" She whispered desperately.

"I tried so hard to make you better… I poured my heart and soul into you for a year and a day… everything I did was for you… and even that didn't matter… You don't even remember."

"A year…" she whispered, growing ridged. "No… It couldn't have been more than a month…"

"A year, Celena. A year ago yesterday I brought you back from that battle feeling like a king, and now look at me." He pulled away from her and gestured towards himself.

"I… I never knew I was such a burden… it's not as if I had any choice in the matter," she said, straightening her dress and her hair.

"I never said you were a burden," he replied, looking genuinely remorseful. "It's just that I think I've found the one thing I can't do right."

Now Celena was more confused than ever. "How so?"

"I tried and tried to make you normal again, and nothing worked. I should have known you'd go off and do it your own way anyhow. All I wanted was to help you, and as it turns out, I couldn't even do that. You didn't need me at all."

Celena was momentarily silenced by this confession. When she found her voice again, she put a hand on her brother's shoulder and said. "But I DID need you. The fact that you stood by me all that time and didn't just throw me away…"

He cut her off. "Don't even talk like that! No matter how difficult things get, you're always my sister. I could never 'just throw you away'. REALLY, Celena!" His voice was scornful, but she could tell that there was relief in it. That relief relieved her.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for wasting a year of your life, and I'm sorry I don't remember it. Maybe we can start again, from right now, and just forget any of that ever happened."

Allen smiled at her, his relief shining openly on his face. "I would really like that." Celena grinned back at him, and the jumped towards him and flung her arms around his shoulders.

"How I've missed you!" She breathed, burying her face in his long, golden hair. Allen picked her up off the floor and twirled her around, surprised at how light she felt. Just like when we were children… It was a couple second before he realized that she had just spoken those exact same words.

Allen remembers…

We never spoke of that day again, but I'm sure we would both remember it for the rest of our lives. It was a mystery how Celena came back to herself, a mystery that would remain unexamined and unsolved. At any rate, none of that mattered, now that she was back to normal. We were a family again, after so many years.

For the first little while, I was amazed at Celena's abilities. The fact that she went from being completely incoherent to what our acquaintances described as 'brilliant' and 'charming' kept baffling me at first. After a while, though, I began to realize that she subconsciously remembered more than she thought.

My first clue that this was the case came when we were sitting one evening by the fire. Celena kept glancing at my harp. Another confession, I play the harp. Yes, yes, I know. Well, during that first year, I was had tried on several occasions to get a reaction out of Celena through my music. She had sat for hours gazing listlessly at my fingers as I played, showing no signs of life except for breathing and the occasional sigh. I would play and play until my fingers were raw and I couldn't bear to play anymore, and then I would stop. Celena, of course, would not move, continuing to stare mindlessly at the spot where I had been sitting. At any rate, on this evening when we were sitting by the fire, I noticed her eyes wandering over to the harp again and again. Finally, I told her that she could touch it if she liked, and if she wanted I could even teach her how to play. Her eyes began to sparkle with that child-like excitement they so often get, and she rushed over to the harp, picking it up like a professional musician. At that point, I was shocked that she even knew how to HOLD the thing. But then she started to move her fingers over the strings, slowly at first, and then faster, more smoothly, the notes coming together and taking shape. I sat, dumbfounded, and she play one of the very songs I used to play for her. When she was finished, she set the harp down carefully, and said "Yes, I would like it if you could show me how to play." I asked her how she learned how to do that, and she told me she didn't know. But as the days went by, she continued to play different songs, until I realized that she had learned my entire repertory and could play it by heart.

Her language skills also surprised me. She had leapt from primitive, poorly formed sentences to perfectly intellectual speech. She was on the same level of intelligence as me, and perhaps she was even higher than myself. Her voice was lively and gay, and her conversation was pleasantly stimulating. It was nice to have someone to talk to other than the crew of the Crusade, for a change.

Celena made friends easily with my crew. She often spent hours watching them do maintenance on the Crusade and Scherezade. I didn't mind, as long as the men treated her with respect. And they always did. Celena was especially fond of my second in command, Sergeant Gaddes. Gaddes is two years my senior. At first I doubted that a twenty-four- year- old man was really an ideal companion for a sixteen-year-old lady. Don't get me wrong, Gaddes is a dear friend of mine, and I trust him more than anyone on Gaea, but he IS a little rough around the edges, and I had my doubts about the kind of influence someone as… uncultured as Gaddes would have on my sister. But eventually I stopped fretting about it. It would have been a pointless battle anyhow; since he and Celena had become such fast friends, I doubted there would have been any way to convince her not to spend time with him. One thing I learned rather quickly was that I could not control Celena if she didn't want to be controlled. When it came to arguing, she could match me stride for stride every time. And what's more, we seemed to have the same way of thinking, so that she would be able to cut down my arguments before I even began. And she could be unbelievably resolute, never letting go of an argument unless she had won it. It's a Schezar family trait; we don't like to lose.

But, other than a few occasional skirmishes, everything went pretty smoothly. Celena flourished, and I began to feel much better, like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Of course, all that was about to change for me. My momentarily simple life was about to get hopelessly complicated. It all started with a return visit from a very unwelcome guest…