Failed Strand of Destiny (Part 1 of 3)

by NickelS
purple_shad@hotmail.com
November 2002

NB: There's a lot of changing perspective in this chapter... try not to get too confused.

Eries could not help but watch him from the stairs leading down to the gardens, as the tall, black-clad man stood in the midst of the nursery of herbs. As incongruous as it seemed, Zaibach's Strategos was currently examining a vine leaf in his left hand, his mechanical right arm hidden by an oddly-matched beige cloth that hung over his shoulder. The elder princess of Asturia regarded him critically. She had half a mind to demand what he was doing in the palace gardens, although she had previously been informed that he had amassed plenty of equipment and supplies for his laboratory already. What he could use a simple cough-remedy for was beyond her; the Strategos did not display any signs of ill health.

Even as she watched, he seemed to sigh, then look up at the dull grey sky. The princess could imagine him scanning the endless mass of clouds before he caught sight of her standing partway down the flight of stone steps. He stiffened slightly and held her gaze for a moment before Eries broke eye contact and descended the rest of the stairs towards him.

"Good morning, Master Strategos."

"What do you want?" It came out a little more callously than I'd meant it to sound. I guess I'm too used to that. She didn't look like it bothered her too much, from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, but she did hesitate.

"Pardon me, but it seems you're quite settled in now. The Asturian council was just enquiring what your plans were and how long you intend to stay in Palas. I thought I would ask you myself on behalf of the council, rather than put you on the spot at the next meeting." She looked genuinely concerned.

I considered for a moment before turning to face her. "That's very considerate of you. Are you afraid of me, Princess?"

"Not at all. The council was just hoping to be more accommodating since—"

"That's not what I meant." And this time, she really looked at me, not beyond me, not through me, as if I was just another one of those stuffy noblemen on her father's council. "Are you afraid of me, Eries?" I lifted my mechanical arm and opened my fingers, palm upward.

The use of my name without any titles was so direct, much like his question, his gaze; and looking into his red eyes with his monstrous arm lifting towards me, I almost took a step back. But I will not be coerced into appearing weak before him, this intruder. Unfortunately, he didn't give me the chance to respond.

"Perhaps you should be, Princess." He turned around and moved to the next plant. "As for the council, you can assure them that I won't be in their hair for too much longer."

"Why is that?" I couldn't help myself.

This seemed to stop him for a moment, and I could see the edge of a bitter smile creeping across his lips. "Because I'll be dead."

Of all the things I thought he might have said, that wasn't one of them.

Bet she didn't see that one coming.

Nope.

Then again, neither did I, really.

Yes, that's right, I'll be dead. I am your enemy. I am a traitor, a fiend capable of issuing the razing of my own country and many more besides. I'm dangerous. You should be afraid of me, maybe even happy about my imminent demise.

"Was there something else?" I wish she wouldn't look at me so. Turn away, away from this awkward pause.

"No." Her expression didn't agree with her reply, though. I tried to ignore her by studying the leaves in my hand, but then:

"Do you want me to tell the council that as well?"

Ah, politician as always: you recover pretty quickly. I hate politicians myself… "No, actually."

"Very well. Good day, Master Strategos."

I hate being called that sometimes. That detestable title so suitable to everything that I once hated, that I still hate, I realize as I watch Eries's back as she starts walking away.

"You know my name, Princess."

I face him slowly, this feeling in my stomach is almost enough to make me sick. Why did I stop except that his tone of voice commanded it? Or was it the voice in my own head that commanded me to? With this tension in my limbs, and my stomach still roiling, this must be the sleeping anger that he deserves, yet my voice remained level.

"Your name?? Who are you, Strategos, but the military hand of the Zaibach Empire? Do you think being a deserter has changed that fact, or the destruction caused in the name of some twisted widespread hegemony?"

I stopped then, only because his eyes had narrowed so much. But he wasn't looking at me, his eyes were downcast, which I found hard to believe. Is he play-acting?

I tried unclenching my fists, and continued, maybe to myself. "I knew the name of a young prince from a distant kingdom to whom I was betrothed at the age of 12. He was slain by a dragon while performing his country's rite for becoming king."

This is a fact I grew up with. I barely even remember that boy, just my reaction to his odd looks when I first met him… oh, and his wings. When I heard he had been killed I wasn't sad. I pitied the loss, but actually, I was happy for I wouldn't be married off so soon. Eventually it became a trivial issue, this failed marriage arrangement, and was forgotten by everyone except for my father and the regular members of the House of Lords.

I looked back up at him, but I couldn't tell what his expression meant. "His name was Folken Lacour deFanel. He has been dead for a long time."

He didn't reply at first, but nodded. "Just so. That's a pity." Then, rather unexpectedly, he bowed to me and said, "Forgive me for taking up your time, Princess. I thank you for it. I should be getting back to my research."

Without a second glance he headed off in the opposite direction from which I had come.

Author's Note: This is more of a drama and an exploration of the possible relationship (or lack thereof) between Eries and Folken than a romance. I ran off with a thread from an idea by Oboe-Wan (150021) after having grown impatient waiting for a decent Folken fic. This is definitely not my best work, what with all the poorly structured sentences, but I needed to experiment.

Disclaimer: Escaflowne and all characters are not my creations. This piece of mind fart is for fan entertainment only. Ouch, I've been reading too much Orson Scott Card... =)