My goodness, I left our boys kind of high and dry, didn't I? Don't
worry, it won't be the last time. ^_^ As for whether or not this will
be a Van/Dilandau fic, Miraba...I'll put in all the hints I can
possibly muster, but I'm not going for an out and out romance between
them...at the moment. Though I do find the idea delicious, trust
me, I have my reasons for holding off on pairing them up. ^_~

I think we all know by now what's mine and what isn't.




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



Far below their feet, the dragon roared in fury at its vanished prey.

He felt Dilandau gasp, whether at seeing his life almost slip away or at the feeling of being suspended in air, the young Fanelian could not be sure. His passenger tensed, watching a single white feather float by in front of them, borne on the scorched wind of the growing fire below. When they were far enough away from the updrafts, Van hovered in midair, still holding tight to the Dragonslayer.

"What--what *are* you?" Dilandau asked carefully, taking measured breaths to quell the panicked surprise he had felt initially. Van was unsure how to answer at first. Should he tell the honest facts, or just try to cover it up with some idiotic excuse? He flapped his wings and sighed. Something like *those* could never be explained away with a lie.

"I'm half Draconian," he admitted finally. "My father was human, but my mother was a descendant of Atlantis."

"Half..." Dilandau trailed off, trying to assimilate everything that had happened. It was taking his brain a few moments to recover from the shock of nearly dying, and if that was not enough, there was the fact that his life had just been saved by his sworn enemy, who happened to have wings.

"...Draconian," Van finished for him. He fell silent again, waiting for the pale boy to make the next move. To his surprise, Dilandau began to shake slightly. It took the Fanelian king a minute to realize he was laughing.

"Of all people for me to be stuck with out in the middle of fucking nowhere, I get a demon," he chuckled uncontrollably. Van pulled a wry face.

"Not a 'demon,'" he replied hotly, "Draconian. And only half."

"Oh, no. In a case like this, you either are or you aren't. And you *are*, it would seem." He could not stop laughing at the situation for some reason, and for some equally elusive reason he found he did not care. "This is just great. I don't have to worry about killing you anymore. You're cursed as it is. You'll probably die a death more horrible than anything I could do to you."

"Thanks," Van said bitterly, heading for a nearby cliff.

"But if you're Folken's brother, that means..." Dilandau mused around his giggles. Van rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, Folken, too."

"Why am I always the last one to know these things? I could have used this little beauty against Folken a long time ago." He chuckled evilly at the prospects this presented. They reached the cliff and Van landed, dumping the Dragonslayer on the ground with an unceremonious thud.

"There's a reason you didn't know," he said, pulling his wings back in. "There were very few who knew my mother was Draconian when I was growing up, and there are only a couple people left who have any idea."

"Oh, I feel special. I know Van's little secret," Dilandau sneered, rubbing his backside at the rough landing. Van met his leer with a cold glare.

"Well, *you're* the one who killed off most of the people who knew. I'm surprised you feel *anything*," he said icily.

"Oh, that's good. Blame me for your paranoia."

"Listen, I don't need you to remind me that my life so far has been one horrible event followed by another." Van hugged his knees to his chest, staring out across the forest, glowing red with the smoldering remains of their encounter with the dragon. Little embers caught the wind and blew by like perverse fireflies. Van's silence brought Dilandau down from his nervous heights, and he stared at his boots stretched out in front of him.

"I know. I'm...sorry," he muttered after a minute.

Van let out a single, harsh laugh. "This is just getting better and better. Everybody I've ever cared about in my life is either stabbing me in the back or dead, and the one person I manage to save is my own worst enemy."

Dilandau silently reached up and caught a cinder with his left hand, smothering its glow in his leather fist. Opening his hand, however, he realized the cinder was a singed white feather. He looked over at his companion, the softened expression in his garnet eyes a foreign one. "Thank you for...for doing what you did. I owe you my life."

"You know the most pathetic part?" Van said, his voice ragged. "I'm not surprised Folken did something like this. He's betrayed me and my family before, why not do it again? But the people I *thought* were my friends," he paused, a wild, self-deprecating look on his face. "Allen, Hitomi, Merle...God, Merle even!...look at what they did! They left me out here tied to the person they *know* I loathe and despise the most of anyone on the planet. Why does everyone betray me like that? Why did they leave me alone?!"

Something tugged painfully inside Dilandau's chest, and he shivered. For some reason, it hurt when Van talked about him as if he were nothing more than an animal, not even fit for human company. Swallowing his own confused feelings, the Dragonslayer said softly, "You're not alone."

"What?" Van blinked in confusion at his companion. Dilandau gazed fixedly at the ground, his expression hidden behind the curtain of silver hair that hung in front of his eyes.

"You're not the only one who's been left alone by everyone else. You talk about how your friends and family have all left you one way or another, but I don't remember ever having a family. Or any friends, for that matter." He chuckled grimly. "The only memories I have of when I was younger involve either being left unbearably alone or being poked and prodded by those damned Madoshi. And believe me, I'd prefer being alone to having anything to do with those freaks."

"What about the other Dragonslayers?" Van asked, avoiding the subject of the Madoshi. He had heard about the Zaibach sorcerers before, and none of the stories were very pleasant. He could imagine what a first-hand account would entail.

"The rest of them are all very close. But they've never really connected with me, mostly because I'm the commanding officer. It's not like they could understand, anyway," the Dragonslayer's shoulders slumped. "They all come from families who are proud to have children in the Zaibach elite. They get letters from home, they give each other gifts on holidays and birthdays...and I don't even know when my birthday is. Loneliness is the worst part of being a Dragonslayer to them. I could never explain the idea that there are things worse than loneliness." Dilandau shivered, memories of vague intrusions and humiliations, violations and abuses flooding his mind.

"You never *let* them get close enough to explain it to them," Van pointed out. Dilandau snorted.

"Of course not. I don't trust them," he answered simply. "Sure, they worship the ground I walk on. They'd do anything for me. They would *die* for me if I ordered them to, but that's the easy way out. There's no glory in just giving up on the fight. They don't get that, though. None of them has the strength to stand up against an order. They would sooner follow an order from Folken and whine to me about how they had no choice because he's a higher authority."

"Would *you* go against an order?" Van asked curiously. Dilandau's expression was one of mild amusement.

"It's been done on occasion," he half-smiled. "It doesn't matter, though. I'll go back and be the wonderful Dilandau-sama again, and I'll smack them around a little just for trying to play Folken and me against each other. And everything will be back to normal, except for this nagging feeling that I'll be a lot less likely to take their word for anything." Dilandau smiled ruefully at Van and shrugged. "So, what will you do when we get out of this mess? Go back to Schezar and that girl from the Mystic Moon?"

"Probably," Van sighed, vaguely disgusted with himself. He picked up a small rock and launched it effortlessly into the thick brush ahead of them, fingering Hitomi's pendant absently with the other hand. "Not that things would go back to being the way they were."

"I doubt they ever will," Dilandau agreed grimly.

Then, after a moment's silent hesitation, Van added, "I never thought I'd say this, but you're the only person I trust anymore." The subtle metallic sheen of the ribbon glinted in the slowly lifting darkness as he held up his left arm. Dilandau considered his end of the tether a moment before fixing Van with a sharp, measuring gaze.

"Do you mean that?" Van nodded once, rubbing his right thumb absently along the metal ribbon on his wrist.

"You gave me your word that we would end this together. I believe you," he replied slowly. "You have honor, Dilandau. You might go overboard every now and then, and your picture should be included in the definition of 'pyromaniac', but it's only because once you give your word that you'll do something, nothing will get in your way. I trust you."

Dilandau held his gaze level for a moment, then allowed his few remaining defenses to dissolve following a compliant sigh. "They say no one knows you as well as your enemy," he murmured, staring off into space. "I guess that's true. I trust you more than I trust myself sometimes."

"Why?" Van tilted his head slightly, leaning to meet Dilandau's eyes even as the Dragonslayer tried to turn away. "Why, Dilandau?"

"Because you were always the enemy. My entire life in Zaibach has been in training to be a Dragonslayer," Dilandau explained, gesturing agitatedly with his free hand. "Even when I let it get personal I still hated you. You were always the target, always the focus of the mission, always my..." his voice faltered slightly, "...my obsession. You are the most consistent thing in my life, Van. Even now, when I can't trust my own perspective or my own motives anymore, you're still here."

"You are the most irritatingly egotistical person I know," Van snorted. He poked his silent companion in the arm, trying to get his attention. "Why in the world you think you can't trust yourself is beyond me." His bright expression wilted when Dilandau finally turned to face him again, pale brows scored with solemn urgency.

"I trust you, Van," he said resolutely, "and that scares me. Listen to me, would you?! I'm the leader of the Dragonslayers! Nothing scares me! But I feel like everything I prided myself on before has been exposed and worn away, and there's nothing left but this." He clutched the ribbon with both hands, trying to understand his words even as he said them. "Everything's changed. I don't know what to think anymore, about Zaibach, or this damned war, or anything...but I *know* I don't hate you anymore."

Van stared at his companion, mouth agape. "Dilandau..." shaking his head slowly as he trailed off, at a complete loss for words.

"If I can't trust my own guts to know who my enemy is, how can I even call myself a soldier?" He laughed hoarsely, his shoulders shaking as he curled in on himself. His voice muffled, he added around his crazed laughter, "You know what will happen when I go back to Zaibach? They'll say I've lost it. 'Dilandau's lost his touch, he's gone soft.' Then Folken will call those damned Madoshi and they'll suck whatever soul I have left right out of me."

"Dilandau, listen. Look at me." Van leaned forward and placed his hands on Dilandau's shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. He brought his head up, peering desperately through his shock of silver hair like a caged animal.

"I don't want to be their puppet," he whispered, "I've fought so hard to keep what little there is left of me, the things that I *know* are part of me and not some program they inject into me...and now they'll just shove it all back down again."

"Listen to me," Van repeated more firmly. "You trust me, right? So you have to believe me when I tell you that you can trust your own judgment. You're a survivor. Your heart will tell you who would die to keep their word of honor, and who would sooner stab you in the back than look at you."

Dilandau appeared to have calmed somewhat, but when the young king made to move away from him, he seized his wrists in a death grip. His face was mere centimeters from Van's, his bright crimson eyes wide with pained fascination like a child witnessing the darker side of human nature for the first time.

"I don't want to be known as their experiment. How will you remember me?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Van replied, "You are more than an experiment, or an enemy. Whether you're the perfect soldier or even the stubborn idiot who hates cold and is horribly vain and plays with matches, it doesn't matter. I'll remember you as a person."

Dilandau smiled then, a genuine smile free of the angry, jaded fetters that had forced it before. It bridged the divide between the crazed soldier hunting for the enemy and the lost, innocent child who was simply searching for a companion. "I've never had anybody to watch my back before. I owe you my life," he said finally, though it had a much deeper meaning at that moment than it had even after Van's angelic rescue.

The Fanelian boy returned the smile, adding with a laugh, "We'll watch out for *each other*." He threw his right arm over Dilandau's shoulder, embracing him like a brother or a longtime friend. Dilandau returned the gesture, still gripping Van's wrist, the red length of ribbon twined around his thin fingers.

It was as they pulled away from each other as friends that the pendant hanging around Van's neck began to glow and a brilliant column of light descended upon them from the sky.

* * *

Aboard the _Crusade_, Hitomi's head suddenly shot up from where she had been staring at the ground far below. She whirled to find the others watching her, Merle nervously gnawing at a claw, Allen with his jaw held at an anxious angle.

The girl from the Mystic Moon smiled and called across the airship's bridge, "It worked! The pendant just transported them somewhere!"

Merle bounded over and tugged at Hitomi's collar. "Where? Where did they go?" she demanded. Hitomi shook out of the cat-girl's death grip and shook her head.

"I can't tell for some reason. Maybe the pendant is blocking my sight, I'm not sure." Merle's eyes narrowed dangerously and she nearly climbed atop Hitomi's shoulders in frustration.

"Then what good does it do us to know that they've been sent somewhere?!" As she reached back with one hand to try knocking the wanted information out of her rival, Allen caught her arm and hauled her out of the way.

"Very simple, Merle," he explained calmly, "the fact that the pendant worked means that they've come to some sort of an agreement. What that may be, we have no way of knowing, but we can surmise that the two of them are at least holding some kind of truce."

"But how do we find them?" Millerna asked, voicing the question that was next in everyone's mind. "If Hitomi can't see where they are, how in the world will we ever be able to locate them?"

"We'll do a sweep of the area," Allen assured her, "and Folken promised that if he found them, he'd make sure Van found his way back here. They're big boys, people. They can take care of themselves."

- TO BE CONTINUED -