Escaflowne is copyrighted by Bandai entertainment. (in other words, not
me.)
Welcome Me
Everyday had felt like the birth of a new life to Allen in the last five years. He felt whole, repaired, and more at ease with his past. Life wasn't exactly carefree though. At times, he still had trouble with the king, who couldn't help but blame him for letting Celena, the scapegoat, get away. After the first two years since the Great War, Allen had to hire an army of lawyers to defend Celena from crucification. After that, the king decided to promote him to ambassador of Austria, an apology for putting his dear little sis' on trial. Well, to hell with him. It's a great night, (he just came back from a date) and I intend to enjoy it…
As soon as his thoughts had left him, the clinking of armors rung through the empty courtyard.
"My Lord! I'm sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but Lady Celena told me that she is having some problems that demands your immediate attentions." He spoke before he was in hearing distance. Allen identified the rhythm of the footsteps to be his squire, Tem's.
Tem looked as if he had just run a marathon. The solider, a young boy of nineteen, jerked erect, his face growing hot from the exercise. He wiped away the sweat on his brow and tried hard to stop panting only to remember that he was in the presence of the boss and made an attempt to turn it in to a salute.
"Tem, please stop calling me lord. It suits me as well as it suits Van." Allen chuckled softly. "What's so urgent?"
"Lady Celena won't say sir. But you better go sir, I don't think she's kidding."
"Thank you Tem, you can go to sleep now. It's quite late." The boy smiled and made another attempt of a salute before nearly skipping back to his quarters.
After the last sound of clinking metal faded away. Allen half jogged his way back to his chambers under the moonlight. A court lady glanced his way as he passed by and giggle before floating away past him.
"I didn't know lady Elena was here." Allen said under his breath, trying hard to resist the urge of flirting. He pushed away the idea as the matter of his beloved little sis entered back to his mind. His paces grew more impatient as he pushed open his door and went in from of marbled fireplace where he could see the petit silhouette of Celena stood back turned.
Celena suddenly turned. Her eyes held a hard look. Her pupils were as pale as his skin. She looked somewhat different since dinner. Celena looked like she was in the mood for murder. His psyche told him that this wasn't a joke or challenge. He took hold of the sword by his hip and rested it there.
"What's wrong Celena?" He frowned, puzzled. "Celena, are you okay?"
She moved, then, skimming the floor. Allen raised his hands as she closed, uncertain, surprised. She was a small woman, unarmed, after all, and he was a large man.
She brushed her right arm against his right wrist and then pivoted, sliding beside him, faster than he could turn to follow. As he tried to twist around, she swept his right arm down with both of her hands, to the floor and back, then the edge of her left hand cut down in the back of his shoulder as she moved behind him, twisting her hips. He bent over abruptly, face down, his own arm a crowbar levering his torso down.
Allen knew what was coming next in a flash. She would reach across the back of his head with her right hand, slid it down across the side of his face, and reach under to cup his chin. Then she would pull. And he would be of nothing.
But it didn't come, he was still alive, barely. Wheezing on his knees and staring at Celena's unconscious form. This had happened before, Celena drifting in and out of the Dilandau mood. But nothing this bizarre yet. Allen didn't know what to think. He laughed bitterly to himself, what the hell should he do now?
"HELP!" Allen suddenly started screaming, he didn't know what he was doing. Just that Celena needed it.
A quick scurry of footsteps stopped momentarily only to reveal a young girl of most about sixteen years old. At first Allen had expected Amia, his personal assistant, but this girl looked much more frail, like a porcelain doll. She surveyed the situation with quick eyes. With out a word, she slung Celena over her shoulders and carried her to Allen's bed.
"Who the hell are you?" His head whirled at the pace in which the mysterious girl worked. She stepped softly in front of him and stared him in the eyes. Then, she did something unexpected. She slapped him. And without another word drifted out through the doorway. He tried to shake loose the bells that still echoed annoyingly in his head to kneel by his sister.
"What I'm I going to do Celena? What I'm I going to do?" He cursed himself under his breath. "Stupid, stupid…"
"I'll say." Allen snapped up his head towards the voice, only to meet with the young women who had previously abused his beautiful face. "What the fuck did you do to her?" Her voice sneered at him accusingly.
"I…"
"No, you know something, I don't want to know. You know why?" She answered herself before he had a chance. "Because you guys are all the same, you think you can go woe any women you want and have your way with them." She controlled the urge to slap him again and dick him somewhere unpleasant. She rustled by to where Celena lays and sat on the bed beside her. The girl's hands went into her pockets and took out a bottle of smelling salt.
"Miss?" Her voice cooed Celena to waked up. She waved the bottle under Celena's nose. The swish of the bottle was the only ting that could be heard in the dead silence of the room.
As Allen waited patiently for Celena to wake up, he got a good look at the young girl perched on his bed. Unlike the picture of her in his imagination, she is quite sophisticated. Her eyes were of a dark ocean blue. He nose turned up a bit at the tip giving her a frail look. Her lips are soft pink and parted ever so lightly to whisper soothing words for her unconscious patient. Even under the drawn drapes and only the hot glow light of the fireplace that made a pool of light against crouching shadows, her face was a pale ivory. The most amazing thing about her though, is the wave of ebony curls that cascaded like a cape down to her slender waist. She shifted as Celena finally responded with a whimper.
"Hmmm… Allen?" Celena fluttered her exotic lashes toward the person holding her.
Allen rushed over to her side with only the urgency that a mother would feel for a sick child. He hugged her tightly, afraid that she'd change if he should blink. Celena was alright. Allen finally exhaled.
"Oh, jeez, get a room." The girl rolled her eyes.
"Well you shut up, can't you see she's in shock? Who are you to judge anyway. You can't just burst in and go slapping people." Allen turned to her angrily and back to Celena.
"Allen, stop it. What's going on? Did I get scrambled again?"
"Yes, but you are fine now. Just rest. I have to see to her." Allen glared at the girl and mentioned for to follow him outside.
As soon as Allen closed the heavy doors behind him with a bang, he swung around to scrutinize the girl. Under the brightly lighted halls, Allen finally saw what was different about her. The young women was wearing a black metallic dress that seemed to glow with a black cut off tank top. The only jewelry she wore was a dog tag around her neck. It was the kind they gave out in armies. Allen has never seen anyone so strangely dressed.
"Who the hell are you? I don't remember hiring another maid. You can't just go barging in on other people's business. And you have absolutely no right to slap me." Allen shot her a look that could've killed. He imagined grabbing her wrists and slapping her back, but he held his anger at bay. It would not have been gentle manly behavior.
The girl met his glare with an equal fire and spoke with the fiery of a million daggers.
"I have as much rights as you to be here, if not more. I'm the mistress of this place. I am the late Shazarde's daughter, I am Raffina Shazarde."
Welcome Me
Everyday had felt like the birth of a new life to Allen in the last five years. He felt whole, repaired, and more at ease with his past. Life wasn't exactly carefree though. At times, he still had trouble with the king, who couldn't help but blame him for letting Celena, the scapegoat, get away. After the first two years since the Great War, Allen had to hire an army of lawyers to defend Celena from crucification. After that, the king decided to promote him to ambassador of Austria, an apology for putting his dear little sis' on trial. Well, to hell with him. It's a great night, (he just came back from a date) and I intend to enjoy it…
As soon as his thoughts had left him, the clinking of armors rung through the empty courtyard.
"My Lord! I'm sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but Lady Celena told me that she is having some problems that demands your immediate attentions." He spoke before he was in hearing distance. Allen identified the rhythm of the footsteps to be his squire, Tem's.
Tem looked as if he had just run a marathon. The solider, a young boy of nineteen, jerked erect, his face growing hot from the exercise. He wiped away the sweat on his brow and tried hard to stop panting only to remember that he was in the presence of the boss and made an attempt to turn it in to a salute.
"Tem, please stop calling me lord. It suits me as well as it suits Van." Allen chuckled softly. "What's so urgent?"
"Lady Celena won't say sir. But you better go sir, I don't think she's kidding."
"Thank you Tem, you can go to sleep now. It's quite late." The boy smiled and made another attempt of a salute before nearly skipping back to his quarters.
After the last sound of clinking metal faded away. Allen half jogged his way back to his chambers under the moonlight. A court lady glanced his way as he passed by and giggle before floating away past him.
"I didn't know lady Elena was here." Allen said under his breath, trying hard to resist the urge of flirting. He pushed away the idea as the matter of his beloved little sis entered back to his mind. His paces grew more impatient as he pushed open his door and went in from of marbled fireplace where he could see the petit silhouette of Celena stood back turned.
Celena suddenly turned. Her eyes held a hard look. Her pupils were as pale as his skin. She looked somewhat different since dinner. Celena looked like she was in the mood for murder. His psyche told him that this wasn't a joke or challenge. He took hold of the sword by his hip and rested it there.
"What's wrong Celena?" He frowned, puzzled. "Celena, are you okay?"
She moved, then, skimming the floor. Allen raised his hands as she closed, uncertain, surprised. She was a small woman, unarmed, after all, and he was a large man.
She brushed her right arm against his right wrist and then pivoted, sliding beside him, faster than he could turn to follow. As he tried to twist around, she swept his right arm down with both of her hands, to the floor and back, then the edge of her left hand cut down in the back of his shoulder as she moved behind him, twisting her hips. He bent over abruptly, face down, his own arm a crowbar levering his torso down.
Allen knew what was coming next in a flash. She would reach across the back of his head with her right hand, slid it down across the side of his face, and reach under to cup his chin. Then she would pull. And he would be of nothing.
But it didn't come, he was still alive, barely. Wheezing on his knees and staring at Celena's unconscious form. This had happened before, Celena drifting in and out of the Dilandau mood. But nothing this bizarre yet. Allen didn't know what to think. He laughed bitterly to himself, what the hell should he do now?
"HELP!" Allen suddenly started screaming, he didn't know what he was doing. Just that Celena needed it.
A quick scurry of footsteps stopped momentarily only to reveal a young girl of most about sixteen years old. At first Allen had expected Amia, his personal assistant, but this girl looked much more frail, like a porcelain doll. She surveyed the situation with quick eyes. With out a word, she slung Celena over her shoulders and carried her to Allen's bed.
"Who the hell are you?" His head whirled at the pace in which the mysterious girl worked. She stepped softly in front of him and stared him in the eyes. Then, she did something unexpected. She slapped him. And without another word drifted out through the doorway. He tried to shake loose the bells that still echoed annoyingly in his head to kneel by his sister.
"What I'm I going to do Celena? What I'm I going to do?" He cursed himself under his breath. "Stupid, stupid…"
"I'll say." Allen snapped up his head towards the voice, only to meet with the young women who had previously abused his beautiful face. "What the fuck did you do to her?" Her voice sneered at him accusingly.
"I…"
"No, you know something, I don't want to know. You know why?" She answered herself before he had a chance. "Because you guys are all the same, you think you can go woe any women you want and have your way with them." She controlled the urge to slap him again and dick him somewhere unpleasant. She rustled by to where Celena lays and sat on the bed beside her. The girl's hands went into her pockets and took out a bottle of smelling salt.
"Miss?" Her voice cooed Celena to waked up. She waved the bottle under Celena's nose. The swish of the bottle was the only ting that could be heard in the dead silence of the room.
As Allen waited patiently for Celena to wake up, he got a good look at the young girl perched on his bed. Unlike the picture of her in his imagination, she is quite sophisticated. Her eyes were of a dark ocean blue. He nose turned up a bit at the tip giving her a frail look. Her lips are soft pink and parted ever so lightly to whisper soothing words for her unconscious patient. Even under the drawn drapes and only the hot glow light of the fireplace that made a pool of light against crouching shadows, her face was a pale ivory. The most amazing thing about her though, is the wave of ebony curls that cascaded like a cape down to her slender waist. She shifted as Celena finally responded with a whimper.
"Hmmm… Allen?" Celena fluttered her exotic lashes toward the person holding her.
Allen rushed over to her side with only the urgency that a mother would feel for a sick child. He hugged her tightly, afraid that she'd change if he should blink. Celena was alright. Allen finally exhaled.
"Oh, jeez, get a room." The girl rolled her eyes.
"Well you shut up, can't you see she's in shock? Who are you to judge anyway. You can't just burst in and go slapping people." Allen turned to her angrily and back to Celena.
"Allen, stop it. What's going on? Did I get scrambled again?"
"Yes, but you are fine now. Just rest. I have to see to her." Allen glared at the girl and mentioned for to follow him outside.
As soon as Allen closed the heavy doors behind him with a bang, he swung around to scrutinize the girl. Under the brightly lighted halls, Allen finally saw what was different about her. The young women was wearing a black metallic dress that seemed to glow with a black cut off tank top. The only jewelry she wore was a dog tag around her neck. It was the kind they gave out in armies. Allen has never seen anyone so strangely dressed.
"Who the hell are you? I don't remember hiring another maid. You can't just go barging in on other people's business. And you have absolutely no right to slap me." Allen shot her a look that could've killed. He imagined grabbing her wrists and slapping her back, but he held his anger at bay. It would not have been gentle manly behavior.
The girl met his glare with an equal fire and spoke with the fiery of a million daggers.
"I have as much rights as you to be here, if not more. I'm the mistress of this place. I am the late Shazarde's daughter, I am Raffina Shazarde."