Welcome back!

What's the deal with Hitomi? Is it PMS? Why is Folken being so cooperative all of a sudden? And what dastardly deed have they done to Van and Dilandau? *gasp* Read on to find out, and review this puppy while you're at it!

Vision of Escaflowne is not mine, no matter how much I wish otherwise. The original portion of this story is MINE, however, so please ask before carting it off somewhere.



=== "Red Threads" by Morgan Steelgrave - Chapter One ===



Van awoke to a screaming headache. He groaned, shutting his eyes against the glaring sunlight that assaulted them. His eyes were not focusing all that well after the blow he had received to the head. After a moment, he was awake enough to assess his situation, though he still squeezed his eyes tight to keep out the painful sunlight. He could remember the fight with Dilandau, and Escaflowne malfunctioning. Beyond that everything was still locked somewhere behind the pounding in his skull.

Wincing, the young Fanelian moved to sit up. Everything hurt, mostly due to being shaken like a maraca while inside his guymelef. His shoulders ached from the rigging, and Van lifted his hands to try to massage some of the knots away. His left hand, however, held some sort of extra weight. Opening his eyes gingerly, his fuzzy gaze met with a red ribbon tied around his wrist. He let out a grunt of confused exasperation, tugging at the ribbon. It refused to untie. Van decided to bear the onslaught of light and look to see what he was tied to.

He immediately wished he hadn't. "Shit!" he exclaimed under his breath, trying to back away from the person to whom he was attached.

He was tied to none other than Dilandau Albatou.

Though he managed to move away from the Zaibach soldier, Van's movements pulled on the ribbon, which pulled on Dilandau's right hand. He growled as he slowly stumbled back into consciousness, grimacing at a headache that rivaled Van's.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, his brilliant red eyes fluttering open. They were out of focus, he noted dryly, probably because of whatever had hit him on the head. Someone was sitting within arm's distance, frozen, breathing heavily. Judging by the tugging at his arm, he was probably being held prisoner by the person, tied to him so he could not escape. Closing his eyes again, Dilandau forced his mind to clear.

Van remained unmoving, poised in the same uncomfortable position he had been in when Dilandau first looked like he was coming out of it. For the moment, however, it appeared the Dragonslayer had slipped back into sleep. Van let out a relieved sigh and relaxed a little bit.

It was at that moment that Dilandau's eyes snapped open. Van had scarcely had time to continue his retreat when Dilandau pounced and landed on top of his captor, thin hands around his throat. It was several beats, however, until everything registered for the Dragonslayer. He had no idea where he was, his armor had vanished, his sword was gone, and he had a death grip around Van Fanel's throat.

"Van?!" he shrieked, his instinct to kill overridden by his absolute shock at finding himself in such a position. The two of them tried to scramble to their feet and take up a defensive position, but they merely succeeded in getting tangled up and falling heavily on their backsides. Bruised and even more disoriented than ever, the two young men regarded each other with identical suspicious, panicky looks.

"What's going on? Where are we?" Dilandau demanded, his hand going instinctively to the scar along his jaw, ruby eyes narrowed dangerously. It proved more awkward than usual, because his right hand was tied to the person who had given him the stigma in the first place. "Have you taken me prisoner? Shit, if you think I'm going to--"

"No! No, I don't know!" Van interrupted him, insisting vehemently trying to calm the homicidal glint in the soldier's eyes. Everything hurt too much at the moment to start fighting again. "I woke up here, tied to you. I don't know what happened."

"Damn it...DAMN IT!!!" The Dragonslayer shrieked, pounding his fists against the ground. In the process, the ribbon tugged on Van's already sore shoulder until he grabbed the bond tightly with both hands, trying to still Dilandau's angered thrashing. He continued flailing at the earth, infuriated that he should be forced to be so vulnerable in front of the creature that had defiled his perfection, his invincibility, his pride. And now that snooty backwoods degenerate was touching him. He was holding onto his *arm*. With an enraged grunt of disgust, Dilandau shoved Van away from him, yanking his arm out of the Fanelian's hand. "Don't touch me," he hissed, narrowing his eyes.

"You weren't doing us any good like that," Van said, amazingly patient. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not." Dilandau relaxed minutely, grudgingly acknowledging Van's logic.

"Fine."

Van sighed. "So, let's figure out what's going on. *Then* we can finish what we started." Dilandau seemed to agree with this, offering what little information he knew.

"The last thing I remember is that my guymelef malfunctioned."

"Something hit you from behind. I think it was Folken," Van explained.

"That stupid idiot, why would he--"

"I don't know! The same thing happened to me when I tried to climb down, though I don't know who it was." Van swiped his dark hair out of his eyes. "I wish I knew what the hell was going on around here."

"Someone's going to pay for this. Slowly," Dilandau hissed. Van was suddenly very glad he was not responsible for their predicament. He looked over to find his unwilling companion glaring at him again. "Why haven't you untied the damn thing yet?"

"I tried, but it doesn't have a knot. It's just one continuous loop wrapped around our hands," the Fanelian held up his hand. "See?"

"So cut it."

"They took our swords," Van argued. Dilandau held up a finger that indicated for Van to hold that thought, reached behind his back and pulled a long dagger from some unknown hiding place. Upon seeing the quizzical look on Van's face, he shrugged with a wicked grin. "Always carry a spare." He set about trying to saw through the ribbon.

"I still don't understand. Why would anyone, especially Folken, intervene in our battle and do...well, this?" Van scowled, still trying to make sense of it all. A loud string of expletives exploded from his left. "What is it?"

"The damn thing keeps morphing around my dagger!" Dilandau seethed. He demonstrated the problem by attempting to saw through the ribbon once again, but the thin rope merely flowed around the blade like a drop of quicksilver, reforming in its former shape time after time. "That's no ribbon, it's made out of crima claw metal. That's the only thing that could foil a titanium blade like this."

"Crima claw metal?"

"Folken again," Dilandau tucked the useless knife away again. "This must be his idea of a joke. I never would have guessed he had such a sick sense of humor."

"You're one to talk," Van grumbled, rubbing the stubborn ribbon absently. "So how do we cut it?" It was hard to believe that something so delicate-looking could be so strong.

"We don't. We'd need to get one of the Zaibach welders to sever it."

"You mean we have to go all the way to a Zaibach base to get out of this?" Van demanded incredulously. "But we don't even know where we are, let alone how to get there from here!"

The Dragonslayer growled. "Believe me, I don't like the idea of traveling all the way there with you, either."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, turning their predicament over in their minds. Neither could come up with a more feasible solution than finding their way to a Zaibach base.

Dilandau stood up, yanking on the ribbon as he did so. "Come on, we might as well start now. No use sitting here like two useless old ladies."

Van remained seated. "Maybe we should stay here until someone finds us," he suggested. "I know someone will come looking for me. If we move around in these woods, we could wander right past them and never see them."

"I refuse to just sit here and suffer this...this...this humiliation!" Dilandau cried. "We have to do something, so come on. Quit stalling and get up."

"And what happens when I walk into a Zaibach base, huh?" Van demanded. "They'll probably cut this thing and whisk me off to one of those damn cells again. There's no way I'm going." He crossed his arms defiantly, as best he could while tethered to his mortal enemy, daring Dilandau to argue with him.

"No, they won't, because as soon as I'm free of you I'm going to kill you," the pale Zaibach soldier quivered with anger. "Now get up!" He yanked on the ribbon so hard that he pulled Van to his feet, though the young Fanelian had no time to compensate and lost his balance. He landed on top of the Dragonslayer, who shoved him aside angrily. The two combatants struggled to their feet, and Van threw a wild punch at Dilandau's face. The Dragonslayer caught his fist before it made contact, wrenching it to the side. Van was surprised to find his right arm successfully pinned, so he brought his left hand, still tied to Dilandau's right, up hard against the underside of his jaw.

Dilandau's teeth clashed audibly, and he swayed momentarily, shaking his head. He put his hand up to his mouth and felt a trickle of blood. Glaring at Van, he moved suddenly and swiftly to ram him in the gut. Van fell backward, the wind completely knocked out of him. Before he landed, he grabbed onto the ribbon and pulled as hard as he could manage, taking Dilandau down with him. The pale boy fell with a curse, landing on top of Van. There was a long pause, neither young man having the breath to bother to move.

"I hate you," Dilandau grumbled, still not moving.

"Sorry," Van muttered hotly. Dilandau started to roll off of Van's narrow chest, but the ties on his shirt caught on something.

"What's this?" he asked gruffly, detaching a small gold pendant from his shirt. Van's eyes widened, and he snatched the necklace from Dilandau's hand.

"What? Don't touch that!" he ordered. Dilandau raised a quizzical silver eyebrow and grabbed Hitomi's pendant back roughly.

"It doesn't look like much," he mused aloud, holding it up between their faces. His focus shifted from the necklace to Van's scowl. The Dragonslayer grinned wickedly, jeering. "Was it a present, Van?" He swung it back and forth, just out of Van's grasp, watching the irritated consternation on his enemy's face. Finally Van shifted his weight and rolled over, pinning Dilandau beneath him. He grabbed the pendant back and clutched it close. Dilandau snorted, losing interest, and flopped down beside the Fanelian. The two lay sprawled in the grass, staring up through the trees and generally trying to ignore one another.

"That was the first time anyone's ever apologized to me. And meant it, anyway," Dilandau said after a moment, though he did not look over at Van.

"How do you know I meant it?"

"We can't stand each other under normal circumstances, let alone tied together like this," Dilandau explained shortly. "It's understandable that you'd be sorry we have to endure each other's company. I know I am."

Van lolled his head to look at the other boy. "That's not true. I've heard your Dragonslayers apologize to you before," Van replied. He didn't care if he provoked him anymore. Things couldn't be any worse than they were. Amazingly, though, the pale boy did not get angry. He laughed bitterly.

"They're trained to apologize to me. Nothing they do is ever good enough. They can't make a decision without me, you've seen that. They're just being selfish, trying to suck up, that's all. They don't mean it."

"How do you know they don't mean it?" Van asked. "Maybe it's you who's being selfish."

Dilandau laughed, a harsh, low chuckle. "Yeah, so? I have to be." Van stared at him, unsure of the boy's meaning and amazed that he could be so blunt. "I'm sure you're selfish, too."

"I am not."

"You're royalty. You've been brought up to be selfish. Besides, you nearly sacrificed an entire city to settle a personal vendetta. Of course you're selfish."

"I am n--" Van started to argue, but stopped mid-sentence. Dilandau was right, and the young king of Fanelia knew it. He *was* selfish. He let out an exasperated growl and ran a hand through his dark hair, tugging at it in his frustration. Of all people, why did it have to be Dilandau to point that out?

He tried, he honestly tried, to be the selfless hero like Allen, though even Allen had his moral flaws. But no matter what Van did, he never gave anything his best effort unless he was angry enough not to care. Like when he was fighting Dilandau. He stopped thinking about what he was doing, what Balgus or Allen had told him to do, or if he was letting them down. He just got caught up in the moment and let things happen without trying.

"Funny," Dilandau mused aloud, breaking through Van's introspective jaunt, "you were the first person to cross me and live this long. And you were the first to apologize for it."

"Aren't I just the center of your universe?" Van snorted. He tried crossing his arms over his chest, but realized only one arm would reach that far and gave up on the idea. He was still miffed that it took an abomination like the leader of the Dragonslayers to uncover his personality flaws.

Dilandau sat up and leaned back against a tree, casually tucking his free arm behind his head and closing his eyes. "It's still not good enough, you know," he said with a smirk. "I'm still going to kill you after we get out of this mess."

"There's no pleasing you, is there?" Van squinted in dry disbelief. Dilandau chuckled.

"Never."

"Then why don't you just kill me now?" Van leaned back against the tree next to Dilandau, as far away from his sworn enemy as the accursed tether would allow. "I'd rather you do that than have to suffer your enormous ego for Gaia knows how long."

"No, then I'd have to drag you through the woods all by myself." Dilandau opened one crimson eye and grinned even wider. "Besides, I want you to suffer before you die."

Van sighed, a vague grimace of disdain finding its way across his features. "You're absolutely evil. You know that, right?"

Surprisingly, Dilandau's smile faded slightly. He opened his eyes and stared at the grass in the clearing from beneath his fringe of silver hair. "I am what you make of me," he brooded, his voice something far from the demonic taunt Van had always heard him use.

The king wondered briefly what meaning that statement held. Whatever it was, it gnawed at the Dragonslayer, though he appeared to have resigned himself to its presence. Dilandau broke out of his reverie, however, and said mischievously, "You never answered my question."

Van sighed irritably. "What question?"

"That." Dilandau flicked the pendant hanging around Van's neck. "What is it to you?"

"It belongs to a friend. I don't know how it got here, I didn't have it before *this* happened," the young king tugged lightly at the red ribbon to indicate the current situation. "I suppose that means she was in on it, too."

"She?"

"Hitomi. The girl who helped rescue me from the _Vione_." Van saw the recognition in Dilandau's ruby eyes.

"That bitch from the Mystic Moon," he snorted. "The one Schezar claimed was his new lover. As if I would ever fall for that." He regarded the necklace for a moment, then let his eyes slide slyly up to Van's face. "How did she know I was going to attack you?"

"I don't know. She just knows things like that. She's saved my life more times than I care to think about."

Dilandau seemed to consider it seriously for a moment, then announced, "I hate her, too."

Van was about to ask why, but decided the better of trying to climb inside a half-crazed Zaibach soldier's head and mucking around. Instead he shrugged and fingered the pendant thoughtfully, trying to put the events of the past day into some semblance of order. There was no counting the aches and pains he felt, nor was there any way of knowing how the mess would end.

For that matter, did he know why it began? Why did such black hatred exist between the young king and the perfect soldier? It ate at them both, Van knew. It had been years since he had a thrill like the one he got while fighting Dilandau. No training with Balgus was that important, not even his battle with the dragon to claim his throne. Any rush of victory he had felt at that moment was cheapened, swallowed by the ever-present thought that it should have been his brother, not him, to take Escaflowne.

But this...it heated his blood, flushed his face, hastened his breath. His eyes glossed until there was nothing there but the boy with the silver hair and the cold, magenta eyes. It fascinated and eluded him at the same time, this excitement. He loosed a sigh, lost in thought.

Dilandau glanced testily over at his unwanted companion. What was he doing now? Mooning over that stupid piece of jewelry? Sentimental idiot. He hated that crap. What point did it have, thinking about some silly girl who was just in the way? She had even betrayed him, left him with his sworn enemy, and he was *still* thinking about her. Dilandau ground his teeth, seething.

"Why do we do this?" Van still held the pendant, but was now watching Dilandau carefully. The Dragonslayer shrugged.

"I enjoy it, personally." He curled his lip in a savage smile. Van shivered involuntarily. He glanced over at Dilandau, his eyes tracing the path of the scar along his jaw line. Van wondered how far he should push, before the anger flared again between them.

"Because of the war? Or because of something else?" The thin, sinewy muscles along Dilandau's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. "I suppose I made you my enemy."

"We were enemies before we ever met," Dilandau stated simply. Then he frowned, "You just made it personal. That's all."

"Me?! *I* made it personal?!" Van whirled on the Zaibach soldier, dark eyes blazing. "I don't believe this! You attacked me!"

"It was an order. I might be the leader of the Dragonslayers, but it boils down to being a grunt with a fancy title. I still have to take orders." In a strange upturn of the norm, Dilandau responded calmly while Van raged.

"You burned down my entire kingdom, you threatened my friends, you dragged me off and dumped me in some cell, and you laughed while you were doing it, you psychopath! *You* attacked *me* from behind! What did you expect me to do, roll over and let you slice me in half?!" Van stopped, panting by that point, teeth bared in a grimace of utter fury. Dilandau watched him with an expression of savage amusement.

"And you cut my face."

"Your *face*?! How can you possibly compare my scratching your damned face to your single-handedly destroying almost my entire life?"

"This *is* my entire life!" Dilandau spat, pointing jaggedly at his own face. "What you see right here. Me. This is all I've got. All I know is that I can't respect anyone but myself, I can't rely on anyone but myself, and I can't trust anyone but myself. Because no one would respect me or trust me until I was perfect. Until I was the best." He leaned forward until he was inches from Van's face, hissing vehemently, "I *am* the best, don't you ever forget that. And I *was* perfect, until you came along and fucked that up."

"It was a sword fight!" Van roared, shoving the pale boy out of his face. "People get cut in sword fights! Grow up and deal with it!"

"And shit happens in battles, too! Kingdoms burn! People die! It's my *job* to make sure that happens. And here's something you might find interesting... It's yours, too. So get used to it, Van, because you're going to have to kill people, just like I do. And you might even like it." Dilandau grinned, a wolfish feint of a smile, letting his words hit Van fully.

Instinctively, the king of Fanelia let out an animal growl of rage and pounced on the Dragonslayer, throttling him as best he could with one hand impaired. Dilandau kicked upward and flipped Van off of his chest. Van landed hard on his already aching shoulder, rolling over only to find Dilandau poised above him, ready to strike. The pale boy threw all his weight into the punch, connecting high on Van's cheekbone. Van cried out, rubbing the spot where a dark bruise was blossoming almost immediately. He clenched his fist and struck out hard at Dilandau. The blow caught Dilandau in the jaw, on the same side of his face as the long scar. The shock in his wide crimson eyes temporarily stunned them both.

Dilandau tried to bring a shaking hand to his face, but it was tied to Van's. He stared at the red ribbon numbly for a moment, wincing at the growing throbbing in his cheek. Suddenly he grabbed the thread, tugging at it wildly.

"Why do you have to do that?!" he cried, jerking the ribbon as hard as he possibly could, a crazed shine in his eyes. "It's bad enough you did this to me. But you have to keep hitting it, rubbing it in, reminding me. I won't be tied to you! I WON'T!!!" He resorted to savagely gnawing at the string, tearing at it with teeth and hands, heedless of the cuts appearing on his palms.

"Stop it! You'll hurt yourself!" Van tried to calm his companion, but it was nearly impossible. Grasping him by the shoulders, he shook him in an attempt to get through to him. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have hit you there! Now calm down! Do you hear me, Dilandau? I said *calm down*!!" The pale soldier stopped, exhausted by his efforts. The two young men sat there, wreathed together, panting for several minutes. Dilandau stared at the ground, not bothering to wipe at the trickle of blood that had formed again at the corner of his mouth.

"Let go of me," he said quietly. It was a tired quiet, but it was still dangerous. When Van did not release him, Dilandau brought his eyes up to meet his. "Van. I'll kill you," he stated simply, almost as if it were a plea for Van to release him because the Zaibach soldier no longer had the energy to kill him if he didn't. Van slowly released his hold on Dilandau's shoulders, and the two of them sagged back away from each other, equally weary.

"I don't like you, either," Van sighed dryly. He watched Dilandau warily, on guard for another attack. It was silent for a long while, until their breathing returned to a relative norm. It was Dilandau who broke the silence.

"Can we just go now?" he said in a haggard monotone. Van, still nursing his bruised face and shoulder, nodded.

"Yeah. Let's go." Neither of them made a move to get up, however. Both men were spent, their words used up, their bodies aching for a reprieve. It was too much. "After we've rested," Van added with a sigh. He pressed his fingers to the ridges of his eyebrows, trying to relieve some of the agony that was dancing sadistically around in his skull.

"After we've rested," agreed Dilandau hollowly. The two leaned their heads back to gaze dumbly at the slices of late afternoon sun filtering through the trees around them, united in their battle's defeat.

- TO BE CONTINUED -