The Vision of Escaflowne

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne. I do, however, own the twisted little plot, and any characters I have created. Basically, if you don't recognize them, they're probably mine. (No one that I own appears in this chapter, however.)

Re-Visions

Chapter 5

To Van, the winter had seemed very long. Once the snows started, all work on the city had to cease. At least most of the streets had been cleared of rubble before then, he thought, staring down at his city. I just wish we'd been able to finish more homes. Even with all the work everyone had put in over the past two years, only about half of the city had been finished. The line of demarcation was easy to spot, between the still abandoned sections and those where people were living. Any bit of stone that could possibly be reused was piled near the burnt out structure which it would rebuild, or brought up to the castle. Most of the stone would be used here, anyway, he knew. What was needed most in the city was wood.

He leaned his head back against the stone of the window frame. He'd thrown open the shutter, to let some of the wan sunlight in, but it also let in more of the chill air. He was glad for his cloak, but gladder still for a few moments alone. His councilors- those who had survived- and the remaining samurai had cornered him right after the first snow, and insisted that he start reading and responding to the letters from other kingdoms. In addition, they had a number of decrees they wanted him to sign. At least half of them were so idiotic that he refused. They were a little surprised that I read them at all, no doubt, he thought, a bit resentfully. He knew he was young- it would be his birthday in a few weeks- but he intended to rule. The role of advisors was to advise; nothing more. He would not be a puppet prince for them. She would not respect him if he were . . .

He tried to find the Mystic Moon in the late afternoon sky. He closed his hand about Hitomi's gift to him, and let his loneliness wash over him. It had been hard to find things to keep himself busy, to keep himself from missing her. Merle scolded him gently whenever she caught him "moping", but he knew she only did it out of her concern for him. He made sure that he was alone, or that she was busy when he let himself think about Hitomi. He wondered what she was doing now. I miss you, Hitomi, he thought, longingly.

Without warning, he felt her, radiating her reassurance, telling him silently that he didn't need to be so lonely . . . He smiled. She often did this- she would smile and call it her mental hug for him. Somehow, she knew when he was in need of her touch, and would comfort him.

Just as quickly as he was aware of her, she was gone, her concentration broken by someone calling her name. He was alone again. He sighed and released her pendant. Maybe I'll be able to reach her tonight, he thought hopefully. He stood up and stretched. His muscles had been feeling tight lately. He knew it was from the way he'd been just growing and growing. He tried to work a little warmth back in too. He'd been a long time away from the fire.

Everything seemed to be wrapped up with fire, he thought. Fire had destroyed the city once. Now, someone was determined to do it again, if only one building at a time. Throughout the summer months, fires had been set at several different building sites. They were small and fairly easy to contain, but still discouraging. Van was frustrated that no one had been able to catch the firebug. No one ever saw him set his blazes. It was like he was invisible.

The crinkle of paper as he limbered his arms recalled to him why he'd come upstairs. He pulled out the sketches he'd done for how he'd like the castle to be redone. He didn't want a replica of the Asturian palace, which he suspected he would get if he let the architect have his way. But he also didn't want to rebuild the old palace, the way it had been. He knew what he wanted- something defensible and strong, but also something that was pleasing to the eye. In addition, he wanted to incorporate some ideas he'd had for the interior. I knew it would be difficult . . .

Leaving his room, he wandered down the corridor, rounding the corner, carefully picking his way as this section had received a lot of damage. He'd been this way several times, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. He had been through these halls so often, long before the burning, that he stopped at the doorframe he wanted, even though the door with Fanelia's crest no longer hung there. His parent's rooms- the king's rooms, traditionally. He'd never slept there as king, but there had been many, many times he'd come here to gain comfort from his memories.

Van stepped through the empty doorway. As with every other room, the fire had consumed everything, blackening the walls with soot. But in his mind's eye, he could see it as it had been when his parents had been alive, and even after. This was their sitting room. There were thick rugs over the stone floor to keep out the winter chill. Heavy drapes hung over the windows, rich red in color, as red as the dominant shade in the rugs. The fireplace in the wall to his left had the crest of Fanelia over it- now warped from the heat and charred. The door in the left-hand wall, next to the fireplace, led to his father's study, done all in crimson again. Red was his father's favorite color, red like the crest. It was Van's own favorite color. His father had had shelves of books in his study. If he stretched his memory to the utmost, Van thought he could remember his father reading to him, though he could easily recall Folken doing the same.

But he was not interested in his father's study today. Instead, he went the other way, toward the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. Of the huge bed with its canopy and curtains, there was no sign. Opposite him, on the far wall, were two doors. One lead to the bathing room, the other to a small room intended as a nursery. Before his mother, the room had been a changing room, or a closet, or some such, but she insisted that it be emptied out. Both he and Folken had slept there, though he had no memory of it. One of the maids had told Van this long ago, with a tear in her eye. Though many had distrusted the late queen, some had loved her.

He closed his eyes, and could see his mother's wardrobe, her vanity by the window, the great bed, even the rugs that had lain on the floor. Opening his eyes again, he counted off his paces, marking the stones on the floor as he crossed the room, and knelt in about the middle.

Years ago, perhaps three years after his family fell apart, he'd found a loose stone in the floor. It had taken all his strength, but he'd managed to pry it up, and had discovered a space underneath. Promptly, he'd piled all of his mother's jewels into the hole, not wanting them to disappear before she returned. It had been a couple years after that when he'd given up hope that she would return. He could also remember putting in the scroll that Folken had once read to him, about the Dragon Slaying of the first king of Fanelia.

He tapped at the stones thoughtfully. They all sounded solid. Would it work? he wondered, and pictured the hole in his mind. The pendant swung . . . that one. He began to lever it up, just as he had long ago.

Many of the letters his advisors had forced him to read offered loans from other kingdoms at exorbitant interest- or as a dowry . . . I'm not a fool. I know this is going to be costly, rebuilding an entire city and castle. But if I can use Mother's jewels, even just a few, I might be able to do it without breaking the country . . . He refused to let himself think about the other, shackled to a princess for the sake of money. The stone clattered as it fell away from the hole.

On top was the scroll, a bit singed around the edges, but otherwise untouched. The stones of the floor had been sufficient insulation after all. Beneath it, as he carefully lifted the scroll out, was his mother's jewel case.

His father had liked nothing better than to shower his wife with jewels. Van could recall one such gift, not long before his father died. He'd handed his mother a small box as she held Van on her lap. When she'd opened it, the stone within had dazzled his young eyes. She'd laughed her silvery laugh and said, "My lord, I can't wear half of the jewels you've given me. But I thank you." She'd set Van down and stood to give her husband a kiss.

I want that, he realized, the box nearly forgotten in his hands. I want to be able to give her gifts like that . . . to have her love me . . . Blinking away the tears that threatened, he opened the lid. The result was blinding, even in the dim light. It was full to the brim with sparkling stones. He stared in disbelief. I'd no idea . . . Then one in particular caught his eye. Slowly, he lifted out the necklace. The delicate chain was of gold, and it supported a small round stone of dark green. Transfixed, he gazed at it for some time. He imagined it gracing Hitomi's white throat, resting in the hollow of her collarbone . . .

"Stop it," he told himself firmly, shaking his head. He laid the necklace gently back in the case, beside the matching earcuffs, then looked at the rainbow of glittering gems thoughtfully. It was likely that he'd have to use them, he knew. Had his mother lived to this day, he was sure she would have insisted on it long since. She would not have worn them anyway, after his father's death. Even when he was alive, she often only wore her wedding ring. But I'll wait, for a little while, anyway. He replaced the case into the small hiding place, and the scroll as well. The stone settled into place with a soft "thunk".

He opened the shutter covering the window opening, and was surprised to see the sky was growing dark. He hadn't realized how late it was. He pulled the shutter closed again and strode from the bedchamber. Supper was calling him. It seemed now that he was forever hungry- it often took three bowls of stew to fill the empty pit of his stomach. The goodwives always just smiled and re-filled his bowl. "A growing boy does need food," he'd overheard one say to another, laughing a bit. He'd flushed, embarrassed, and the woman had continued, "Oh, my lord, no need for that! It's only the truth, and from the look of you, my lord, every bit is going into your legs!"

After supper, Merle caught him crawling back up the ladder again. "Lord Van, what are you doing?" she asked, hands on her hips. He grimaced. She'd appointed herself his guardian, it seemed.

He didn't reply until he'd reached the top. She started up the ladder after him. "Merle, I just need to be alone for a while," he said, hoping she'd just climb back down.

He heard her snort. "So you can go and think about Hitomi and feel sorry for yourself?" She was close enough to see him blush, even in the flickering torchlight. When she reached the top, she leaned toward him, feet still on the ladder, and asked softly, "When is she going to come back?"

Startled, he glanced at her, then away, standing up. "You know she's not," he replied in a low voice.

"Have you asked her?" She rested her weight on the top rung of the ladder and stared up at him innocently, her blue eyes wide.

He shook his head and turned to walk away.

"Do you think maybe you ought to ask before you decide for her?"

"Merle! Stop it!" His tone was harsh, but still quiet. She saw how rigid his back was, his hands clenched into fists. When he spoke again, his pain was evident to her. "Please, just stop . . ."

She hopped up onto the landing and walked around him to face him. It wasn't too long ago, she reflected, that I'd have leapt all over him, and been glad Hitomi wasn't here. I know he wants to be comforted, but I also know I can't. He won't be comforted by me, anyway. I can't do that anymore. "Well, don't you think so? She can't give her answer until you ask the question!"

He started walking away from the ladder, down toward his old room. "It's a question I can't ask her and you know it. All the time she was here, she wanted to go back to her family and her friends. I can't ask her to leave them again."

"She came back once for you, didn't she? What makes you think she wouldn't again?" She could see that she'd surprised him. She sighed. Men. Sometimes they could complicate the easiest things. Why do we put up with them? she wondered. But she had her answer when she saw him smile. She hadn't seen Van smile in so long, she couldn't remember when. It lit up his whole face, and made him look just like a little boy.

"I've been stupid, haven't I? You're right, Merle, thank you!" He grabbed her in an impulsive hug and just as quickly released her to disappear down the dark corridor.

She sighed again, and ran a hand through her tousled hair. Her tail twitching, she listened as the sound of his footsteps faded. "Well, my good deed for the day," she said with some satisfaction. "She'll come back- she must miss him as much as he does her. And when she finds out how he feels about . . . her . . . oh, damn!" Her blue eyes were wide as she realized. He hasn't told her how he feels! If he had, she'd've come back long ago. She started running after him on all fours, swearing under her breath. Maybe . . . no. This is Lord Van. He's got to keep everything personal bottled up inside, she thought. She stopped outside the open doorway to his old room, and peeked in.

He was already sitting in the window, one leg drawn up and foot braced against the other wall. Merle could see the pendant glowing softly through his fingers. He had his face to the sky, as if studying the position of the stars, but she knew he had his eyes closed. "Hitomi," he whispered.

Merle was right, Van thought as he left her at the landing. If she came back once, why not again? And when she came back . . .when I could see her again . . . touch her hand . . . The thought ran round and round in his head, never finishing. He could only imagine happiness at her return.

He strode across his room to the window. He'd left the shutters open earlier, and the Mystic Moon was high in the sky when he leaned out to search for it. He seated himself in the empty frame, leaning against one stone wall and propping a foot up on the other. He concentrated on her, closing his eyes. In his mind, he could see her smiling at him.

He was flying again, flying without his wings. It was a bit disconcerting, but he ignored the strangeness and looked down at the ground. She had to be nearby . . . He waited until he felt the tug that meant she was thinking about him. It always warmed him inside to know that she thought of him. He let her thoughts carry him along . . .

When he landed, he was standing inside her bedroom, in the bright artificial light. She was lying on her bed, her head turned toward him, her smile almost as dazzling as the light. She sat up immediately, and flicked off the lamp on her desk. Now the light was much dimmer, and came only from a frosted glass bulb on the ceiling. She was the brightest spot in the world to him, anyway.

"Van," she breathed. "I'm so glad to see you." She beckoned to him, and he gladly approached her. Even if he wasn't actually present, he enjoyed being near her. He felt a bit nervous as he sat next to her on the bed; after all, this was where she slept . . .

She picked up on his nervousness, but not on the reason. "Don't worry," she said softly. "I locked the door. My parents won't come in." Surprised, he thought privately, Well, that helps . . . a little bit. He tried to hide his feelings of embarrassment- he'd never been in her room before, and couldn't help feeling . . . odd. He tried to bury that, too, so she wouldn't know about it.

He looked at her again, and saw that she'd pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes glittered brightly as she stared at him, her cheek resting on her knees. But she wasn't smiling. She wasn't speaking. Hitomi, is something wrong? he thought, projecting his concern.

She shook her head, apple green eyes never leaving him. "No, nothing's wrong." But even as she said the words, he felt a flash of thought from her, quickly surpressed. Damn that Kenji! He was shocked. He'd never heard her swear before.

Who is Kenji? He felt frustrated that he could only give her his feelings. He wanted to say the words! He scowled slightly.

Sighing, she looked away. "I guess you caught that, from your expression." He nodded. "I think I know what you're thinking. You want to know who Kenji is. He's a boy in my class at school. He's on the track team, too. There's something about him I just don't like. He did something today . . . something that I didn't want him to do." She gave a short laugh. "I didn't want to tell you . . . I didn't want you to be upset . . ."

He was staring at her in fear and dread. What could have happened? Why was she acting so different from her usual self? He had the feeling that he didn't want to hear what she was going to say.

She picked up on his feelings, and turned back to him, eyes wide. "No!" She moved so that she faced him, kneeling on the bed next to him. If she could have taken his hand, she would have. Her expression was earnest, and he could feel her willing him to believe. "No! I didn't want him to do it!" Suddenly the scene flashed in his mind. He saw a young man, his arm around Hitomi. The boy bent down and kissed her. Overlaying it all was her revulsion, her dislike of the boy. Van could not look away, but thankfully it was brief. When the boy broke away, he watched with some satisfaction as she wiped away the kiss, as if it had never been. She wished it had never been.

"There's something that I did want to tell you, Van." Her voice was very, very soft. When he focused on her again, he realized with a start that tears were rolling down her cheeks. His heart ached, to see her cry.

Oh, Hitomi, please don't cry . . . Forgetting that he wasn't really there, he reached out to wipe the tears from her face, but stopped when it seemed she was shrinking away from him. Hitomi?

"No! Van, come back!" He heard her call very faintly. She was surrounded by darkness- an impenetrable blackness that started to swallow her up. She was so far away, but he could tell that she had one hand stretched out to him, even as she receded further from him.

Hitomi! He started to push his way to her, through the void, but he couldn't get any closer to her. He could hear her in his head, calling to him, begging him not to go, when all at once, it stopped. Her cries were cut off in the middle of his name. He could still see her, so far off, a faintly shining blue blur around her. He reached out to her even as he felt himself flying backwards, away from her. She disappeared, still glowing dimly.

"Hitomi! No!" He could hear his own voice, and believed that this horrible vision was over.

But before he opened his eyes, he thought he heard another voice. No, young king . . . she can't control . . . she can't anymore . . . Never again . . .

Then all was broken, and he was back in himself, staring at the night sky. He realized he had lifted one arm, just as he had in that vision, to reach out to her. He let it fall to his side. The other hand still clutched the pendant.

Numb. He felt numb. He knew that the pain would start in a little while, just as it did with a physical injury. But right now, there was nothing.

"Lord Van?" a voice called softly.

Merle. She wanted to know when Hitomi . . . to know when . . . The hurt flickered at the edge of his awareness, but he kept it at bay, taking a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes again and bowed his head. "Not now. Please," he whispered. "Please, leave me alone . . ."

He didn't see how her ears flattened in sympathy. Tears filled her blue eyes as she retreated. I guess . . . I guess it wasn't such a good deed, after all, she thought dejectedly as she shuffled down the corridor. No, the thought struck her suddenly. No, I know Hitomi would have come back if she could. I'll have to get Lord Van to tell me what happened . . . when he can.

Van heard the soft scuffle of Merle's shoes fade as she left. When he was sure she was gone, he let the pain sweep over him, let the despair crush him. There had been a terrible sense of finality in the words that voice had spoken, like he would never be able to see Hitomi again . . . He felt his shoulders begin to shake at the thought, felt the scalding hot tears start to spill down his cheeks. He still grasped her pendant in one hand, but now he pressed it against his chest, praying to end the unbearable ache within. Great wracking sobs tore from his throat as he hid his face against his upraised knees.

Never again . . .

Author's Note: Good place to end it, ne? (evil grin) Please review!