Chapter 5: Battlements are Pleasant Company (Part 1)
~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~
She had been touched beyond belief by his words–but she was still wary. She wanted to trust him, because in spite of everything that had happened to her, she liked and admired the way he acted...at least the actions that she had seen. Sylvain was a remarkable paradox. He was young and old at once, first brimming with spirit, then showing ageless wisdom in his compassion and understanding. He seemed to be still a bit of an innocent, unlike the hardened green-eyed one she had met–Marinel. Even though he must have seen horrible things, Sylvain kept them in his memory as reminders of what he must not become. What he remembered most clearly was the miracles, and it showed. Ardice hadn't wanted to admit it, but he had the purest soul of any man he had ever met. While it had galled her at first, all her anger had fled, and she only felt sad. They were not to be, and they could never be...
"Ardice?" A polite knock was heard at the door, and she whirled around, her skirts following in a swirl of confusion. She looked down at them in consternation. It was one of the days that her preferred riding gear from Calandra, Sylvain's older sister, was in the laundry, and she had had to make do with a fancier court dress (also borrowed) until the general had unexpectedly commissioned a dress from a seamstress. Ardice was not allowed out of the medium-sized suite of rooms she had been given without Sylvain's company, and none of the other occupants of the palace besides one trusted maid could know that she existed, either. The problem of getting her measurements proved to be a most troublesome–and slightly embarrassing–task, but they had managed to get through it with a minimum of discomfort. Thankfully, he had made no reference to the incident since, and she now had a plain, forest green dress that suited her long frame. She still liked the riding gear more.
Drawing her thoughts back to the present, she frowned thoughtfully. She recognized his voice, of course–she expected, by now, that she would have been able to pick his voice out of a crowd. He was the only person she had seen for days, and he came as often as he could to keep her company, and she appreciated it with all her heart. But Sylvain had told her he would be busy all day with governmental affairs, and when she had heard, she had felt sadder than she would have thought possible, but she told herself that it was perfectly normal, since he was the only human being that she knew in the entire palace, besides the maid who came and went rapidly, and besides, he had affairs to attend to as a king and a general. "Coming!" she called hurriedly, swishing to the door quickly. When she pulled it open, she looked up the few scant inches difference in their heights and met his deep blue eyes. "Sylvain."
He bowed elegantly–and slightly ironically, although his warm smile was open and friendly. "You were expecting someone else?"
She scowled at him, but it only lasted a minute before turning into a wistful smile. "You know as well as I do that it couldn't possibly be anyone except you."
"Ardice–are you so unhappy here?" The general's voice was soft, but it seemed to echo loudly throughout the room, and the unspoken "with me" could be felt keenly.
"No, no, of course not," she replied quickly, but the words rang false. She bowed her head under his penetrating gaze and added, "You know that I–respect you, and that I...like you, and you've been extremely kind and thoughtful, but I want to leave here. And you won't let me go."
'I could never let you go,' his heart whispered, but Sylvain merely nodded apologetically. "I'm sorry, but it's true."
She sighed. He had been in such a good mood when he had come in, and she had ruined it. "Well, what are you doing here? I thought you would be cooped up all morning with those half-wits you call 'advisors.'"
He had to smile, even though his thoughts were troubled. He decided, finally, to put them aside and enjoy the time they had together. "They aren't all stupid. Far from it, actually, since it is required that I keep a close eye on some of the more ambitious ones. But I was miraculously released, and I have decided to grace you with my honorable presence instead of doing more worthwhile, sensible things for the realm."
Ordinarily, his faked high-and-mighty tone would have made her laugh, but Ardice merely smiled faintly. "And what did you have planned for us to do?"
The brunet man indicated the case under his arm hesitantly. "Well, you saw my star charts, but they aren't the only things I draw. I'd go mad if I only had straight lines and dots to work with, but it's been a while since I've been inspired to do any portraits. It's nothing fancy–no paints or anything like that, just a sketch–but would you mind...if I asked you to sit for me?"
She was both shocked and flattered, and she was silent for a few minutes as he focused his gaze on the floor. Finally, she nodded mutely. "Do I–do I look all right? Where do you want me to..sit?"
Sylvain smiled at her brilliantly, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "Of course you do. I would want to paint you in anything you wanted to wear–including my sister's riding clothes. Sit anywhere you want to, as long as you're comfortable."
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"I think it's time to take a break," he said, getting up and stretching. She had chosen to stand by the window, with one arm along the sill. Below the balcony, guards were stationed at all times. Sylvain had managed to capture the sad, wistful expression on her face, and he didn't like it. Dusk had fallen, and the darkness outside was dazzling.
She moved away from the glass and stretched as well, carefully avoiding his glance. It seemed to her that during his preliminary sketch, as he called it, Sylvain had been looking at her with much closer scrutiny–and emotion–than was needed. She sighed and looked back at the world outside her cage. She needed to leave here, and soon.
Sensing her restlessness, the King-General gripped her hand lightly and opened the doors, drawing her outside. Nodding down at the patrols beneath, he gave them the signal to disperse for the moment, and when they were alone, he turned to her with a bright smile. "I've been wanting to show you something."
"And what exactly might that be?" She leaned over the railing precariously, taking in a deep breath of the cool night air.
"Magic." She spun around to look at him sharply, accusingly, and he held up his hands to ward her off. "You keep denying that you don't know anything about it or the lights in the forest, and I'm not going to say whether I believe or disbelieve you. I just thought you'd be interested, but if it's a touchy subject..."
After a heated exchange, Ardice finally regained most of her good humor and acquiesced. She watched silently as he raised his arms slightly.
"Look up," he dictated softly, and she transferred her gaze skyward. Sylvain kept his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction. First, a wisp of silver light appeared in the heavens, among the stars, and it shone so brightly that it was visible even in competition to their brilliance. Slowly, it thickened and began to dance among the stars, drawing lines between them to form the constellations. As she turned to look at him in awe, he smiled gently and said, "Consider this your first lesson in astronomy–from me, at least." Slowly, Sylvain began to point out each constellation, with the help of his magic, and he also added the stories behind each shape. He told himself that this waste of magic was merely practice, and he _was_ out of shape. Her delight was plain, and it made the exhaustion of maintaining the carefully drawn lines and moving silver fade instantly.
When she began to yawn, despite her genuine interest, he set off an explosion of colors high in the sky, and she was jolted away. "What–?"
"Fireworks! Just...without the fire and a little less danger to the general populace," he explained with a grin. Ardice smiled back at him, and when Sylvain carefully slipped his arm around her, she tensed slightly but relaxed quickly, leaning against him and into the embrace. And so they stood that way for quite a while, as his elation sent his powers careening across the sky in fanciful shapes and colors...and she was happy with him, with the moment...
~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~
She tossed and turned, beautiful face marred by the demons in her fretful sleep. She was a mere babe, a rambunctious child, a rebellious teenager, a lady, a middle-aged mother, and an old woman all at once. Gray light surrounded her but was edged with shadow, and she was frightened that the gray power would lose its fight and that the darkness would come...come like it had come to her homes. A great burst of gold-green light cut in and made its way into her inner psyche, and she sighed as it washed over her in gentle waves. However, it too retreated soon and left her alone in the dark.
Isadora suddenly found herself dressed in a sweeping, scarlet dress, wandering around a palace. She was sure it wasn't the Moon Palace, but it looked awfully familiar. There was blood splashed on the porcelain tiles and staining the walls and bodies lying everywhere, equally crimson...weapons were piled at successive intervals carelessly, thrown aside by their masters...and she walked forth through it all. The stench of death filled her nose and the air around her, and she wanted to cry. She _did_ cry eventually, and the tears fairly flew down her cheeks.
Pushing open a door as she reached up to wipe them away, instead, she covered her mouth in horror. This was the throne room, she remembered suddenly, the throne room of Mars. The last time she had been there, her parents had been awaiting her with brilliantly sad smiles. She had been going to the Moon... They lay there together, her father's head on a pike, his headless body holding evidence of multiple, cruelly-inflicted wounds. Her mother's fine clothing was whipped to rags, and she lay crumpled and broken, lacking the grace Isadora had identified with her since she had been a little girl. It was Mars as she imagined it, for she had been told the manner of her father and mother's deaths. She hadn't seen it with her eyes, so this was her mind's imagining of the place. They were gone, and she was alone, with all the death and destruction....until a new color glowed into existence. It was tinted a celestial blue, and the power pulsed healthily as it tugged at her. Go back, it seemed to demand, go back. Stop walking through these dreams.
When Isadora reached for it, she fell into another landscape: the desert. This time, there were cacti thriving and lizards running around as birds of prey circled overhead. The wind was still there, but it was more friendly and welcoming than her memory. She saw miles and miles of footprints. Dimly, she wondered, were they hers? Then Isadora laughed aloud, surprised at the merry sound. Of course her path had long been covered up by winds and more sand. The azure blue aura swept her up again, carrying her back, pulling her away from the fevered dreams. Before she went with it, willingly, Isadora smiled as she thought that the color was like fresh water, the enticing lake she had found at the oasis. Dreams like these had gone on and on for days without her realizing it, and they were all very similar, although none of them were exactly alike. Suddenly, she wondered, what oasis? What water?
The vivid scene was replaced by an elegantly-furnished room, and the fistfuls of golden sand turned to slightly-damp handfuls of covers, clutched tightly in her feverish sleep. Her raven hair felt tangled and tousled, and she recognized the source of the winds in her dreams as the light, playful breeze issuing in from the window, which was opened a crack to let in fresh air. It had been several days, she guessed, judging by how refreshed and sleep-replenished she felt, since she had talked to Pyralis and cried on his shoulders. She had suffered a sudden relapse, and through her delirium, explored the dark shadows hidden in her mind. But now her mind felt clearer.
A slight shift of movement attracted Isadora's attention, and she glanced at the chair pulled up to her bedside. Or rather, she noticed the person sitting in the chair. Her eyes took in his features as avidly as a beloved lover's might: his hair had been caressed and ruffled by the draft from the window, his bright azure eyes were closed in sleep, but a sweet smile remained on his face. The slightest bit of mischievous, good-natured playfulness remained in the corners of his slightly-open mouth, and he looked as innocent as a sleeping child she had happened upon in the forest. Pyralis must have spent quite a while with her, she realized, for the shade of blue she recognized as his now had made itself clearly present within her dreams and chased away the nightmares. His unselfish devotion touched her deeply, and she reached out a hand to brush it lightly over his bangs, his sleeping eyelids, and finally his lips. Then Isadora snatched her hand back, as if burned. She looked down at it, feeling heat flood through her body and especially her face, and noticed that the burns and cuts were mostly gone.
At her touch, he began to stir, and she quickly closed her eyes and lay back. With her eyes tightly shut, she heard him stretch and yawn. She also felt him lean over her, felt him feeling her forehead and tucking the sheets around her more comfortably. Then he moved away, and a few seconds later, Isadora heard the soft thud of the window shutting. She thought he would leave then, but the creaks of the floor stopped, and he seemed to be standing motionless. She didn't dare open her eyes to peek at him, feeling her heart beat rapidly. She wondered if he could hear it, then dismissed the idea. At last, she felt his fingertips brushing her face, and she waited, breathlessly, as he traced the contours of her face tenderly. He drew away, and she yearned for his touch to return. He left abruptly, quickly, and she felt a sharp sense of loneliness and abandon. She opened her eyes, and he was gone.
Suddenly, she recalled that she had remembered nothing before. She relieved that awful feeling of mistaken identity, total cluelessness, and loss. Isadora began to weep bitterly, silently. She had forgotten that intrinsic part of her that was so important. It meant nothing that she had managed to conceal her true persona by giving the name Isadora. Rei was the name she had carried for all of her life except for a few days ago, the one she had always thought she would claim as her own, and she had forgotten it in a heartbeat. Her entire past, everything that had meant something to her, her friends, Selena–she had forgotten them.
She wanted to run, she wanted to continue crying, and she wanted to die. Most of all, she wanted to hurl something, anything–hard–at the beautiful things surrounding her to ruin their somehow complacent flawlessness. A red haze rose up around her, filling her eyes, and Isadora threw off her covers and her mind-clouding pain.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Pyralis had not known that the particular room he had given his impromptu guest was directly above Roshaun's study until several loud, distracting thuds and crashes from above. As such disturbances, when not issuing forth from the kitchen, were extremely rare, he dropped everything (literally, resulting in quite a mass of thoroughly-mixed paperwork for him to struggle with afterwards) and searched for the cause of the noises. Wishing, not for the first time, that the Northern Palace was not quite so big nor unfamiliar to him, he was heralded along in the proper direction by more ominous bumps and clanks. Needless to say, he was shocked, having just left her sound asleep, with the fever finally gone–or so he thought. Throwing open the door, cutting quite an imposing figure in the doorway (or so he liked to think), the Eastern General demanded, "What in all hells is going on in here?!"
Furiously, she whirled around, still dressed in her makeshift nightgown. She panicked almost immediately: here he was, ready to arrest her and turn her in to the King of Earth, and she wasn't going to stand for any of his tricks, like the one he had used to get her name. And his touch...no, she wouldn't allow herself to think about that. _He_ was the one responsible for her amnesia, and the object in her hand flew out at him without her quite meaning to, despite her anger.
The King-General's impossibly brilliant blue eyes widened, and he ducked quickly and watched as the incoming projectile smashed into the wall behind him. 'She's got better aim than Sylvain,' was his first coherent thought after his mind had recovered from the shock.
Immediately, the tempest that had seemed to have taken place in the now-disordered room settled down, and Isadora dropped to the ground as if all the strength had fled from her bones. "Are you all right? I'm so–I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you..."
He smiled weakly as he dropped his hands, which he had raised to protect himself from any more of her barrages. "I'm fine. You, on the other hand, look as though you could use a little more rest and less throwing things around." When he tried to pick her up, she shied away from him. "What's wrong? If you can't stand yourself, I'll have to carry you. You're also in need of another bed, since this one's sheets appear to have been suitably disposed of on the floor." When he attempted to pick her up once more, he actually made contact with her skin, and she flinched away violently. Pyralis finally understood then, and a terrible sadness rose in his heart. "Why are you suddenly afraid of me?"
"I'm not afraid of you, _your highness_. I fear no man." 'Except the king,' her mind added traitorously.
Pyralis merely stood by, watching her, as her shoulders shook with unshed tears. It was the second time he had done so, and he felt no less uncomfortable than he had the first time. When she looked up at him, exquisitely-purple eyes daring him to comment, he remarked neutrally, "I don't think I've ever met anyone with such a flash-fire temper. One minute you're burning as hot as fire; the next minute, you've cooled down to harmless embers."
She allowed herself a tiny smile. "My father used to tell me he couldn't stand my temper and that no man would, if I didn't curb it. He said I got it from my mother." Then the smile faded, for her parents had been taken by warriors of the Earth. She would cry no more, she promised herself, especially in front of him. He was dangerous, and she had already increased the peril for her princess and the others.
He saw the way her eyes closed briefly, as in pain, then opened shining more brightly than ever. And he was afraid of the effect she had on him, an effect that made him want to throw caution to the winds and stay here forever, learning anything and everything about her.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
"Where are we...what are you doing?" Isadora asked suspiciously when Pyralis beckoned to her the next day.
He smiled cheerfully, waving at Marinel, who had a grouchy expression on his face as he took her hand in his gently. "I figured you'd be more comfortable back at the Eastern Palace–granted, it's no less rough a place than these ice fields, but at least it won't be as hellishly cold. Roshaun doesn't like me messing around in his castle, anyway–he thinks I rearrange his papers and mess up his ordered study."
"Do you?" she asked curiously.
He grinned wider and said nothing else about the subject. "People react differently to teleportation, but I don't think you'll have any problems with it. I'll do my best not to land on any more unfortunate people. There is a downside to instant transport, though–you're going to have to trust me. Really trust me, I mean."
She glanced at him sharply, and he met her eyes levelly.
"If you don't, I may have to drag you along behind me in mid-teleport, and it's not a comfortable experience. It's happened to me before, and it's not an experience I'd like to repeat or wish on anyone else. So what do you say?"
Isadora bit her lip for a few minutes before nodding silently. Closing her eyes, she felt a sort of peace infusing her spirit, one of a soft blue hue. When she opened her eyes again, as he released her hand, she blinked when she realized that they were no longer in the Northern Palace. "What–what happened?"
"That, my very dear, was a teleport. You did wonderfully," he grinned jovially. Blissfully ignoring her startled expression, he looked backwards over his shoulder as she began to trail after him and asked with a roguish wink, "See what fantastic things are accomplished when you trust me?"
Feeling a headache coming on, she snapped, "Yes, I do. It makes you look like you have an even bigger head–and ego–than you already do." His surprised laughter rang out good-naturedly in the halls, and to his delight, she joined in a few seconds later.
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Unfortunately, by the afternoon, his good humor and elation had faded. Pyralis paced along the wall, not caring that his footing was precarious and that he only had another few inches before he was in danger of toppling over the wall. He had already dealt with hundreds of problems upon his impromptu return, and there were thousands more waiting for his attention. Isadora had been shunted aside rather unceremoniously, and she hadn't appreciated the speculative looks and whispers. Pyralis was not appreciating the fact that sooner or later, he would have to explain why the residents of his castle were unsurprised by his turning up unexpectedly with a female companion. He was confused, he was tired, and he wanted to escape all the conflicts he seemed to be finding himself entrapped in.
The most vexing of these exquisite complications was his beautiful, fiery-tempered visitor, and what he was doing with her. Or perhaps the right thing to say was what he wasn't doing with her. He was almost one hundred percent positive that she had been one of the causes of the mysterious flashes of light in the forest that night that seemed so long ago... She had been completely unfazed by his teleport, falling into the sequence rather naturally, and the only time he had felt sensation other than utter relaxation and trust had been surprise, at the very end of the teleport, as if she hadn't expected to be over already. He wasn't even sure she had realized when they had departed from the Northern Palace. Knowing this, he should have told the king. He should have questioned her. He should have kept her under lock and key, with plenty of soldiers to guard her. But he hadn't, and it was too late now.
Somehow, he had grown attached to her during the days of watching her toss fitfully in her sleep, chasing away her nightmares, and worrying himself to death over her condition. He knew the contours of her face, a breathtaking visage, as well as he knew his own. But Pyralis had looked at his face almost every single day of his life, and he had only seen hers for a few days. There was more than mere physical beauty to his attraction, however–and he suddenly began to realize it was an attraction. Isadora shone with an inner fire, and she lit up everything around her with life. Something in her called out to him, and his entire soul was motivated to respond.
When she cried, he wanted to right all the wrongs in a world that was doomed to be imperfect. He was angry when he could only stand by helplessly, feeling her pain and sorrow. When she had lain hurt and walked in delirious nightmares, Pyralis had wanted nothing more than to be with her in her time of need, matching her stride for stride through the familiar and the unfamiliar. He had wanted to vanquish those imaginary foes and heal her. The former, he had been successful at–the latter had called for Marinel's attention. It was amazing how resentful he had felt towards his friend, but at the same time, Pyralis's joy had had no limits when she had awoken after her long slumber. A fierce, uncompromising light had shown in her eyes, and he was jolted by it every time he met her eyes: it was unparalleled courage, a fighting spirit, unbounded passion, unyielding protectiveness, unbreakable loyalty...and unspeakable grief. He had never met anyone like her; no one had ever had such an effect upon him.
Pyralis leaned his chin in his hands as he rested his elbows on the sturdy gray stone before him. He looked down and felt the familiar, mixed rush of elation, fear, and exhilaration as he gazed at the distance to the ground. Then he went back to his musings. There had been several times in his life that he had believed himself to be in love. None of them had turned out to be the real thing. But then again, none of them had ever felt like how he felt towards Isadora. And then the general had to brace himself when he realized what he was thinking about. It was impossible. Improbable. Completely out of the question. It could not be...but it was.
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Quick AN: Before you read on...the reason I split this chapter into 2 parts is because it was longer than usual... Sorry for the lack of action ^^;; but it'll come soon. I think. But I hope Rei/Jade fans are happy :). Next chapter, I actually give Lita/Neph more spotlight...but go to part 2 first ^.~