Behind Enemy Lines
By: rainjewel
Chapter Nineteen: First Aid
rainjewel: *sings* "Ooga ooga ooga chaka! Ooga ooga ooga chaka! Ooga ooga ooga chaka! IIIIIIIII'MMM HOOKED ON A FEELING! I'M HIGH ON BELIVIN'! THAT YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH MMMMEEEEEEEE!!!!"
Ryan: Uh, yeah. And people wonder why I listen to the Beatles. Less "ooga's."
rainjewel: *giggles*
~*~
Leitken was having a pleasant dream about puppies. Warm, squirming, little bodies that licked his face and made him laugh. He had always liked puppies, so dependent, so loving, so unassuming. However, the loud yet distant sounds of steel boots raised him from the heated mass of fur that surrounded him. The thudding was unmistakable to his well-trained ears. He woke quickly and efficiently.
His dark eyes flashed open. He was on a guest balcony, overlooking the city of Fanelia. He was lying on a reclined lounge chair, blankets wrapped around him. Light wind picked up his hair, trailing violet, curled rivers across his lips and cheeks. It'd been two days since the wedding, but he felt dizzy and lethargic, as he would for days, according to Millerna. Damned poisoned darts.
Another tap of steel-toed boots roused Leitken to a sitting position. He clutched at the blankets around his body and looked to his left. Dilandau stood there, gazing over the edge of the balcony. His white hair danced about his head, ruby eyes gleaming down at the city. He was in full Dragonslayer armor, but his leather jacket was open, purple undershirt peeking through. Leitken could make out a wet stream of blood coursing down the black leather sleeve of Dilandau's right arm, which was casually folded against his chest. The commander had ashes smudged up against his pale skin, and in some spots it looked as if he'd been attacked by a rouge makeup…Leitken knew that only meant one thing—blood spray. He wondered where Dilandau had been.
The violet-haired boy swung his legs over the side of the chair as quickly as he could, dropping the blankets.
"Stay there," Dilandau ordered. "Keep yourself wrapped up."
"Yes, sir," Leitken said. His words came out in a strange whisper, low and hissing. His voice would return in roughly the same time the poison wore off. He couldn't wait.
Dilandau turned to him. "When I ask you a question, raise your hand with an open palm if you mean yes, make a fist if you answer no. Got it?"
Leitken raised an opened hand. He was keenly aware that Dilandau knew that shaking his head no or simply nodding would have made him dizzy. The albino always seemed to know everything about a person.
Dilandau grinned. The blood crinkled on his face. Leitken now saw the streaks of red in his hair, as well as darker, sooty patches. No, he definitely didn't want to know what Dilandau had been up too.
"You and I are not going to return to Zaibach," the pale man said. "Ever. Would you like to stay here in Fanelia?"
Open hand. Leitken breathed in deeply.
"Would you consider working in the palace?"
Open hand.
"As a soldier?"
Leitken hesitated. Looking away from the penetrating eyes of his commander, an act that would probably result in a slap, he raised a closed fist.
Dilandau giggled, sweet and deep. "You're such an honest boy. Good. Don't ever lie to your commander."
"Sir—"
"You never wanted to be a soldier, did you, Leitken?" Dilandau asked, tossing his windswept hair loftily.
"Never," Leitken hissed. His deep eyes found Dilandau's.
The armored boy raised his eyebrows. "Well, seeing as how I've abandoned the Zaibach army, the damn bastards…I'm out of a job, and so are you. From now on Leitken, you are free from my control. Go be a civilian."
Leitken stared. "Sir?"
Dilandau's face turned serious.
"I don't do this easily, Leitken. Don't 'sir' me again. I didn't train you to be this dimwitted. You're no longer under my command. You are no longer part of any military outfit. I'll ask Van about having you work here in the palace," he said, voice low. A drop of blood fell from his jacket sleeve to the stone balcony floor.
"Thank you, Dilandau-sama…er…Dilandau-san," Leitken said, words rolling of his tongue at an odd angle. To not honor Dilandau's name would be suicidal in Leitken's mind till the day he died.
"Don't ever forget who I am, Leitken," Dilandau said smoothly. He walked up close to Leitken's chair and leaned over slightly. "You weren't that bad a soldier. Viole would have been proud."
And with that the silver-haired man straightened, turned, and walked crisply from the balcony.
Leitken settled back in his chair, fighting down the lump that had suddenly arisen in his throat.
~*~
The roses were dying. As the cooler colors approached the roses began to wilt, one by one.
Merle looked upon them without emotion. This had ceased being her rose garden a long time ago. Celena owned it now, deservedly so.
Everything was leaving. She was being left with nothing. Van was torn between Dilandau, Hitomi, and his duty as king. She had been his less-than-official advisor for months…but only as a way to get closer to him. She never left—never even threatened his life—and here she stood, forgotten.
But surprisingly enough, she wasn't bitter. She like Hitomi well enough, but it was apparent the girl from the Mystic Moon wasn't going to get Van. Dilandau…why care anymore? Why feel? If Dilandau killed Van…well, her king was dead to her all ready. Disengaging from emotions, from living, was easier. All that was left to live was pain.
Most people would feel suicidal in her mindset, Merle supposed. Weaklings. If there was one thing she learned, nothing ever changed or got better. It was all one long, dull existence, pained only if you let it, and never happy.
Merle had lost her spark, lost her spirit—a sacrifice to the happiness of the only person she felt anything for.
There was a swirl of pink fabric. Celena sat beside Merle, the hem of her long pink skirt showing the tips of what were undoubtedly knee-high (or even taller) white leather boots. Celena had a thing for boots. Merle didn't know if it was an after-effect of all those years as Dilandau (his boots were ridiculous) or if Celena had just always preferred boots.
"Hello, Merle," Celena said cheerfully.
Merle swiveled her head. "Good day, Celena."
"Why are you out here?" Celena asked. She plucked a few dead blooms from the bushes and watched them fall from her fingers to the ground.
"No need to be in the palace," Merle replied in monotone.
The blonde girl's eyes sharpened and her golden curls stilled.
"What's wrong, Merle?"
"Nothing."
"You never say 'Good day,' and you certainly never worry about whether you're needed when you decide to go anywhere. There has to be something up. You're usually more…energetic."
"I grew up."
"What?" Celena picked a white rose from a nearby bush.
Merle was all ready tired of this conversation. She wasn't going to waste any energy arguing.
"Look, Celena, I have a stomachache. I'm sorry."
"No," said Celena with a shake of her head, "You're unhappy…unhappy about someone."
Merle looked on dumbly.
"You're unhappy about Van and Dilandau-chan, aren't you?" Celena continued. She leaned in and put the white rose in Merle's hair. "They're in love, you know."
Merle held back a flinch. "If Van-sama's happy, I'm happy."
"That's stupid. You should be happy for yourself," Celena said.
"I won't spend my life crying," Merle said darkly. "What do you know anyway? You're still 5 years old in your mind."
Celena's hand shot out and gripped Merle's wrist. "In some ways, I'm much, much older. You've changed, though. You grew up fast, Merle."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Merle replied, nervous. Celena sounded almost…dangerous. Her fur was bristled at the thought, listlessness leaving her skin.
"Stop living for Van," Celena said, voice still hinting at danger. She caught Merle's face in her hands, blue eyes crashing against blue. "I've lived for Dilandau. You can't do it."
Merle gasped. Quietly Celena rose to her feet. She picked a blood red bloom from a nearby bush. Merle stood, brushing petals off her own blue dress.
"Why don't we go have some fun?" Celena said, mood and voice suddenly bright. "I say we go bother that Leitken fellow—he's rather cute."
Merle stared, dumbfounded by Celena's mood swing. How could she just…oh what the hell.
Carefully Merle let herself hope. She took the subtle hand of Celena, pulling her from the numbness she was all to willing to let take over her soul.
"Well," she said lightly, "He does have a nice face…and his hair's very curly."
Celena giggled and took her by the hand. Merle looked at the other girl's pale hand and smiled—only a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.
~*~
Millerna always smelled good. It wasn't a scent Hitomi could place—something light and herb-y, though it smelled very feminine at the same time. A marvel to Hitomi, who knew that she could never pull off. Maybe it was a "princess" thing. Correction—a "queen" thing.
Whatever the reason, she was getting a huge whiff of it as she hugged the blonde woman. Millerna was departing today, having a country to run and all. The queen felt confident that everything was going to be peachy in Fanelia. Hitomi felt that nothing was ever going to be peachy again.
Millerna pulled back from the embrace, grinning widely. She patted Hitomi's back, then put a finger on the girl's chin, tipping it towards her.
"You're going to be okay, right?"
Hitomi smiled back. Millerna was her confidant during the Great War. It didn't matter that they were vying for Allen…they had been the only two girls the same age and had become friends mostly out of lack of options…but they were still a great match.
Hitomi patted Millerna's upper arm. "I'll make it."
"Come visit," Millerna said. She turned away to face the carriage that would take her back to Asturia. Eries was all ready inside, staring blankly ahead of her.
"Thanks for everything Millerna," Hitomi said softly. She'd spent the majority of last night alternately talking and sobbing to the other girl.
Millerna got into the carriage. "You were there for me. Talk to them both, Hitomi. It'll help."
Hitomi swallowed. "I-I…I will."
"Well goodbye then," Millerna said. There was a snapping sound as the driver cracked his whip. "You're going to be all right!"
"Good bye!" Hitomi called out as the carriage pulled away. Millerna waved, a pale, gloved hand flashing in the sun.
Hitomi turned around and faced the glittering Fanelian palace. She hadn't seen Van or Dilandau since the wedding. She didn't want to think about where the two had spent the night.
Fear bubbled in her throat. She firmly pushed it down. It was time to chat. Van would be busy with kingly duties, probably…so…that left…Dilandau. Great. She had caught wind that he had left this morning, but it was afternoon now, so she figured that he should have returned.
Hitomi tightened her grip on her determination. She quickly trudged up the stairs and walked to the residential corridors…and then promptly darted behind a large suit of armor. Walking up the opposite end of the hallway was a very soiled Dilandau Albatou. He was wearing his Dragonslayer uniform, the jacket undone. He paused for a second in the hall, but then sighed and ducked into his room.
Hitomi scuttled down the hall, holding her breath. This was as close to suicidal as she'd ever gotten. It was as if she was throwing herself into a dragon's lair. As she raised her hand to knock on Dilandau's door her nerve faltered. Shivering, she remembered the pain of her loss.
Her face grew hard once more. She rapped on the door four times.
Nothing.
She knocked again. "Dilandau?"
Silence.
Knowing it was a bad idea, Hitomi tried the knob. It turned easily in her hand, and she quietly let herself into the room.
"I'm coming in. Dilandau?"
She looked around the room. It was clean, bare in fact. It looked like the room of a soldier: one bed, one nightstand, and a dresser. The bed was made and there wasn't a single article of clothing or other personal belonging that made it look lived in, except for one very dirty uniform that was lying on the floor, boots beside it.
Hitomi heard running water in the bathroom, and then realized this was not a good situation to be in. Panicking, she put her hand on the doorknob to leave, when she heard another door opening.
Dilandau stepped into the room, a white towel wrapped around his hips. His ruby eyes were wide and lips thin. A large puncture wound was bleeding on his right arm and a few pale bruises were showing on his sides and arms. Despite the injuries, his pale skin glittered with water, making him look ethereal. Hitomi felt her own eyes widening.
"Uh…sorry…er…hello," Hitomi stuttered. She turned her head and felt the hot blush that burned her cheeks.
"Why are you here?" Dilandau asked. She heard the sounds of him walking to the dresser.
"I wanted to talk to you," she said, almost whispering.
"Well first you're going to have to look at me. I'm not going to spend a lot of time straining to hear what you have to say," he said.
Hitomi pulled her eyes over in his direction. Dilandau was standing in black pants, a long-sleeved tunic in his hands. He tossed it on his bed, then reached into his dresser and retrieved a large wad of gauze and tape. He sat down on the edge of the bed, then looked up with an "I'm waiting," expression on his face.
"Dilandau, I know we haven't ever really, uh, discussed anything before," she began. "But I have to know a few things."
"I'm not going to answer any question I don't want to," Dilandau said. He wiped the dripping blood from his arm.
"And why not?" Hitomi said. She walked to the front of the dresser, opposite of him on the bed.
Dilandau ran a hand through his silver locks, smoothing them. "Why should I?"
"I think you owe it to me," Hitomi said, teeth gritted.
"I don't owe you a damn thing," Dilandau said. He wrapped his arm up in gauze, making the white strips blush pink.
"You stole my goddamn life, you punk," Hitomi spit. She felt a sting rising in her eyes, unbidden. No! Not now, not here, not with him.
Dilandau looked up from under his eyebrows, glaring. "Stole it, did I? You little bitch. I gave my life for yours. Don't even start with me."
"And after how many attempts to kill me?" Hitomi retorted.
Dilandau sat up, patch job done, and smirked. "Not enough."
"You bastard," Hitomi said. She felt a tear course down her cheek. Was this the man that Van had chosen over her? "You…why me, Dilandau? Why did you have to ruin my life?"
"It's not like you won a contest, Hitomi. I wanted Van, not you," Dilandau said. She hated the way his voice rolled through the air like crushed velvet.
"I deserve him. You deserve death," she whispered.
Dilandau's head snapped up. "Is he now a prize for you? That's sick. And what makes you think you deserve him? Because you fought on the good side? Well congratulations. Not all of us can have such wonderful, uncomplicated lives. I had to deal with more shit than you could even fathom, and I still do. You don't deserve Van—you need him. You need him to come to your rescue when the chips are down. Van is not something you get because you deserve it. You selfish brat."
"You better love him," she whispered. Hot tears spilled over her cheeks. She lowered her face to her knees, sobbing into her thighs. She heard Dilandau get up off the bed. For a second, his shadow hovered above her and for a moment she thought he was going to comfort her.
Hitomi raised her head, eyes red and puffy. Dilandau sat in front of her, back to the bed, legs stretched out over the small space between the dresser and bed. He had put on his tunic. His expression was that of boredom.
"How can you be so cold?" she asked. "You broke my heart, inadvertently or not. How can you just sit there!"
"Would you actually want to be comforted by me?" Dilandau asked, eyebrow cocked.
Hitomi blushed. "No!"
"Well then don't ask me how I can just sit here."
Hitomi glared. "I hate you."
"I don't hate you," Dilandau said. His hand brushed his side as he shifted his weight, causing him to wince.
Hitomi gaped. "What?"
"If it weren't for you, Van would be dead," he said softly.
"Probably by you," she spat.
Dilandau's eyes were large. "Undoubtedly by me."
Hitomi smiled wryly. "Fantastic. I saved him only to let you have him the end."
"Is that so bad?" Dilandau asked.
"Yes!" she spat.
Dilandau looked at her like she was something brand new and unseen. "Why?"
Hitomi sneered. "That's obvious. You're insane."
Garnet eyes flamed, making the fear rise up in Hitomi like a tsunami. She masked it with her grief and anger, glaring fiercely at Dilandau.
"You'll need to come up with something better," he said, leaning in. "Obviously you have no idea about me. Hitomi—I'm always in control. Don't ever forget that."
"I fought you once, Dilandau, and I won," she hissed. "I can fight you just as easily again."
"Fighting, yes. Winning, no. Anyone can battle," Dilandau said. "You can fight me all you want. It doesn't matter what we do to each other. It's Van's decision. He picked me."
"And now he'll probably die for it," Hitomi shot back.
Dilandau's face grew very still. He rose to his knees and leaned forward, placing a hand by Hitomi's face.
"You little, whiny bitch. To think Zaibach lost the war to people like you…gods. You know, you can think whatever you want. I know I love Van, and as long as he knows that, you can't touch me. You lose, baby girl," he whispered.
Hitomi's heart thumped. She closed her eyes, avoiding Dilandau's painful gaze. The smell of roses permeated the air.
"Let me see," she whispered.
"What?" Dilandau asked, but instead of answering, Hitomi reached out and grabbed his arm.
Dilandau, being held in the arms of a sleeping Van, surrounded by feathers. The two are smiling, nude and hair mussed. Dilandau's eyes suddenly open up, he leans over the slumbering Van, his mouth whispering the words "I love—
The image of Dilandau lying on a table, younger, face unmarred. His feet, chest, and hands are restricted by large metal bands. The vacant expression of drugged stupor is apparent on his face. A sorcerer stands over him, hands gripping Dilandau's hips. The sorcerer bends down, cutting off what looked like a scream with a kiss. Dilandau struggles against the man uselessly. The sorcerer's hands slip down, down—
Dilandau, crying in the woods again, being rocked by Van as if he were a babe. Kisses being feathered through his hair as he weeps, clinging to Van for dear life. Van whispers, calming Dilandau—
A dark pit, occupied by a single pale figure. It's Dilandau, not more than eight years old. Suddenly three doors open, and through each steps out a large wolf, muzzles frothing and ribs showing. They attack at once, as a pack. Dilandau heaves a sword much too large for his small frame through each, teeth snapping at his tender young limbs. He dances and the blood of the wolves mix with his. The wolves fall. Dilandau looks to a huge rip in his thigh, then faints, falling to—
Dilandau, throwing Van to the ground as a white flash envelopes the bedroom they are in—
Van, grinning as Dilandau flings salad in his face—
Dilandau and Van kissing in a prison cell, tears streaming down their faces—
Hitomi blinked slowly, sweeping the haziness of the vision to the corner of her mind. Dilandau was staring at her, eyes furious. She squeezed his arm instinctively, shocked by the pain in her vision. He winced. Hitomi looked to her hand. A sickening red was blooming beneath her hand. Gasping, she drew her hand back, feeling a thin film of blood on her palm. She had grabbed his bad arm.
She stared into his penetrating gaze. "I…I—"
Dilandau sat back. "Do that again, and I will kill you."
"You love him," she whispered.
"Of course," he said, gaze burning.
"The wolves, Dilandau, I saw you fighting wolves," Hitomi said. She felt the need to confess.
He raised an eyebrow. "The wolves? That was my first time in the Zoo. That's what they called it. In a year they were dragons. The title "Dragonslayer" is not given easily."
She gaped, and then her cheeks began to burn.
"I…I saw you…on a table—"
Dilandau held up a hand. He looked away, expression indecipherable.
"Don't," he said, and his voice cracked. Hitomi felt tears begin flowing down her cheeks, spilling for a man she hated, a man who had experienced more pain than she could imagine.
"Does Van know?" she asked softly.
Dilandau glared at her, eyes glistening. "Shouldn't you know that too?"
She winced. "I'm sorry."
"Oh don't worry, Hitomi. He only raped my body. Feel free to rape my mind," he said in a cheery tone that was more frightening than any giggle or threat she'd ever heard.
Hitomi started sobbing again.
"Gods you're weak," Dilandau muttered. "Can you deal with anything? Van has enough responsibility as it is. If he had you to look after, he might just lose it."
"Oh, and a bloodthirsty pyromaniac isn't a handful?" Hitomi spat, instantly regretting it. A blanket of empathy had washed over her, making every argument with Dilandau seem childish and in poor taste.
Dilandau rose to his feet, ignoring the comment. He took off his now-bloodied shirt and ripped the bandage with his teeth. He grabbed another long-sleeved tunic from his dresser, this time a dark red one. With a sigh he began bandaging up his arm again.
Hitomi stood up. She snatched the bandaging from his hand. "I caused this, I'll fix it. You're doing a shitty job anyway."
"The last thing I want you to do is touch me," he said.
Hitomi shook. "Please? I'll never do anything like that again."
Dilandau gave her the fiercest glare she'd ever experienced, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her. But then he slowly raised his arm. Hitomi began wrapping the wound with ease.
"You're right you know," she whispered. "It's not up to us what happens from here. It's Van's decision."
She finished up and Dilandau slipped his tunic on. Some of the hate had left his eyes.
"He does love you," he said softly.
Hitomi smiled, pained. "Yes. But he loves you. I hate to say it—but you make him happy. I saw that."
An admission she wished she could take back just spilled from her lips. But right after she said it, Hitomi realized the truth in her statement. The happiness she could see between those boys, the need they had for each other was so glaringly apparent it was all she could do to not say it.
Of course, it didn't make the truth any harder to swallow.
"I-I think I'm g-going to leave now," she stuttered, quietly. Dilandau was staring at her, expression slightly surprised.
"I won't say I'm sorry," he said.
Hitomi opened the door. "I wouldn't either. You're one lucky bastard, Dilandau. Don't forget that."
She took a step, then paused. She turned, and with emerald eyes burning almost black, stared Dilandau down.
"And don't you hurt him, Dilandau, or I will kill you," she hissed, "I will go to the ends of this world and mine to hunt you down."
Dilandau raised an eyebrow. "Don't pack any bags."
"It's all ready packed," she replied. A smirk danced across Dilandau's face, but he didn't say anything.
Hitomi closed the door. She made it across the hall to her own bedroom before she collapsed, but not before the last tears came.
~*~
Van's footsteps echoed down the dark hall. It was late, and he'd only just finished soothing the fears of every single advisor, politician, and civilian in all Fanelia. The moonlight streamed down almost too brightly tonight, illuminating his glossy hair and red tunic. This was his third time through the palace and he'd dropped off his royal garb earlier—all he wanted was to find Hitomi.
He sighed, slowing his pace as he rapped on Hitomi's door for what seemed to be the millionth time, but she was nowhere to be found. He wasn't worried she was in danger or anything, because he'd seen that honeyed-head coming back from the family shrine as the sun had set. He had wanted to all out to her, try and soothe the puffiness of her cheeks from tears he'd undoubtedly caused, but Verdi was insistent that he stick to schedule.
He had cancelled the engagement. This information wasn't public, of course, but Verdi knew, as well as most everyone close to him. It needn't even be said. That had to wait until he found Hitomi.
Van turned to Dilandau's bedroom. He hadn't seen the younger boy since last evening when everyone had fallen asleep in Leitken's room. Dilandau had been gone when he'd awoken, which of course, threw Van into a panic until he'd found Dilandau's note in his back pants pocket.
Pigeon -
I'll be back this afternoon Don't worry. I'll make sure to avoid any brainfries.
- D.A.
It wasn't a particularly amusing letter in Van's imagination. However, as he silently slipped into Dilandau's bedroom, he couldn't suppress a small, wearied smile. He approached the bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake the lump of blankets that was Dilandau.
He was a step away before a silver head popped up out of the bulky sheets, followed by two disdainful red eyes.
"Pigeon, if I hadn't recognized that ridiculous racket your sword makes, I just might have gutted you," mumbled Dilandau, shedding his blankets and sitting up on the mattress. He casually tossed an unsheathed dagger behind him, lodging it in the windowsill.
Van frowned. "How comforting."
He sat down beside Dilandau, relieving himself of his sword and boots. The paler boy ran a hand down the right side of his face once, twice, then settled his hands in his lap.
"You look tired," Dilandau said, velvety voice balm to Van's wearied ears.
"I've spent the whole day politicking. But most everyone's satisfied—I fixed the country. Gold star to me," Van said, running a hand through his hair. "You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I explained the situation—"
"—Situation?" Dilandau cut in.
Van winced. "What the sorcerers had done to you. Brainwashing, fate alteration, etc. It gives you a pardon for any war crimes, based on sympathy alone."
"I don't want sympathy," Dilandau said.
"You have a choice between sympathy and a dark prison cell," Van said. He ran a hand down Dilandau's arm, wanting to emphasize his point. He felt the telltale bulge of a bandage under the blue sleeve. His eyes narrowed, giving his ruby-eyed companion a Look. "So…what did you do today, Angel?"
Dilandau raised an eyebrow. "Do you know about the West Zion Academy?"
"The sorcerer school in Zaibach?" He'd heard the name.
"Well the school, along with every capitol-related building in Zaibach is nothing but ashes," Dilandau smirked. "Zaibach's government smolders as we speak."
Van stared. "You burned all those buildings? All those people?"
"No," Dilandau said, voice oddly flat. "I sent a rather large message to Adelphos. The flames were quick, but not the burning. Only the stupid would die in a fire that slow."
Van looked away, pained. "Why is it always destruction with you?"
"I was made for it," Dilandau replied, voice snide. He reached around, catching Van's chin in his hand, making the dark-haired king face him. " I didn't kill anyone Van. And I won't lie—it was hard not to. Instead I took out every single building I could find. I gave everyone a warning before I torched the buildings. All their records are gone, thus taking away their source of power. Fanelia can rebuild Zaibach now, along with her allied nations, in a manner free of sorcery and violence."
"No, now you've just given them reason to come after you…I know they will," Van replied, pushing Dilandau's hand away.
"They know it was me all right, but they can't prove it," Dilandau said, eyes slightly colder. "I 'borrowed' an old Alseides test unit that was lying around, waiting to be scrapped. There are no eyewitnesses to an invisible enemy. I made my point cleanly and poignantly, Pigeon. They also know that if they come after me I'll double their pain."
Van felt his anger burn slowly and dangerously within him. He reached over and grabbed Dilandau by the arms, feeling the bandage underneath his grip, knowing the pressure was forcing it open. He didn't care—Dilandau needed to understand…needed to know that he couldn't pull stunts like this.
"Someone had to see you to stab you," he said.
Dilandau took in Van's scared and angry face with a cool stare. "I killed him."
"You said you didn't kill anyone!" Van yelled. He pressed Dilandau back, but held him above the bed covers.
"I make an exception to people who stab me on the street," Dilandau replied. He looked down at Van's hands. "Van, I know you're worried. There isn't going to be any retaliation from Zaibach. Without the backing of the sorcerers, Adelphos would rather have me out of his hair."
"You don't know that," Van said, his heart pounding.
"Let go of me Van," Dilandau said. Garnet eyes glittered.
Van took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He felt the moonlight on his eyelids, felt the warmth of Dilandau's body before him. Without another thought, he reined in his slipping control.
"Promise me you'll never do another thing like that," he said, opening his eyes.
Dilandau, features pinched from his annoyance, smirked. "I promise I'll never, ever burn another government to the ground…at least not without consulting you first."
"And?"
"And what?" Dilandau spat. Van Looked at him.
Dilandau's face grew serious. "And never go on any major massacres or anything of the like?"
"That'll do," Van said, smiling. Immediately he let go of Dilandau's arms, who then fell with a thwack into the pillows.
Dilandau rolled his eyes at Van for a short moment, then looked at the fresh bloodstain on his tunic. "Goddamnit. That's twice. You people are beginning to piss me off. I don't have that many clothes."
Van watched him as he slid off the bed and walked over to his dresser. Dilandau sighed, casting aside his shirt and grabbed a black tunic, this time a short-sleeved one. He also threw away the bloody bandage.
"What do you mean, twice? Hey, come here and let me do that," Van said, motioning for Dilandau to come to the bed, bandages in hand
"I had a lovely visit with Hitomi today. She did the same damn thing," Dilandau said softly. He sat beside Van, this time turned to the side so as to help with the bandaging.
Van finished with a jerk. Dilandau pulled his arm away with a glare.
"Sorry," Van said, scratching his ear. "I swore I just heard you say Hitomi came and talked to you."
Dilandau smoothed the front of his tunic. "I did. We had our first and perhaps our last discussion."
Shock was evident on Van's features. He stood up, facing the door with his back to Dilandau. He put a hand to the forehead. Dear gods, that couldn't have been a pretty conversation. In all his years he'd never heard of anything more unlikely. He'd be less surprised if Princess Eries suddenly popped into the room clad only in leather underpants.
He felt arms slide around his stomach and a warm body pressed up against his. Van closed his eyes and smiled softly as Dilandau kissed the crook of his neck.
"Oh it was great fun. We discussed all my bad qualities and how she'd come and kill me should I harm one hair on your pretty, poofy head," Dilandau whispered.
Van turned around, drinking in Dilandau's face. "Poofy?"
Dilandau smirked. "Fine, shaggy. Face it, you have a rather unruly mop of hair."
Van reached out and tousled Dilandau's head as best he could before the albino ducked out from his grasp, red eyes blazing. He paid for his action with a large slap to the head as Dilandau backed up.
"It's a good look for you as well," Van called out, laughing.
Dilandau stood in front of the glass doors of the balcony, moonlight streaming down to illuminate his figure, revealing every fluffed hair on his head. His arms were crossed and beneath his glare, Van could see the little gears turning in his head.
Without another word, Dilandau threw the doors open to the balcony and walked out. Van rubbed his head, following him to the balcony, still smiling.
"Ouch. Damn, you hit people harder than anyone I have ever met," he said as he crossed the threshold.
Dilandau, back to him, looked out into the night. He turned his head, silver hair settling into place as if by magic. He blew a kiss to Van, eyes smiling.
And then jumped off the balcony.
"DILANDAU!" Van yelled, heart dropping to his toes. He ran to the edge of the balcony, looking down onto the dark ground of Fanelia. Panic surged through him. Omigod omigod omigod omigod—
A pale hand grabbed his wrist. Van looked down at it in shock. Suddenly it yanked his hand, pulling him down. He went hurdling off the balcony headfirst.
His heart surged, adrenaline pumping insanely. The cold wind whipped his face. Without a second thought, Van felt his back rip open as brilliant white wings exploded from his back. His shirt all but disintegrated.
He turned midair, turning to face the balcony. Directly below it, sitting atop the ugliest gargoyle imaginable, was Dilandau. He was grinning like a fool, giggles carrying throughout the whole country.
Van gritted his teeth and flew up to Dilandau's perch. Face to face with the laughing albino, he felt his chastising glare whither and die.
"You…you…" Van felt his face split as a silly grin broke across his features. He shook his head. "You are incorrigible!"
Dilandau rested his head in an upturned palm, arm resting on a gargoyle horn. A dazzling smile lit his face.
"You. Deserved. It."
Van crossed his arms. "You know, I'm going to leave you here for that."
"Then I'll climb right back up," Dilandau pointed out. Van flew in closer, nose almost touching Dilandau's.
"And rip open that nice wound I just finished cleaning up," he whispered. "I don't think so."
Dilandau's eyes softened slightly. He dropped his hand, then leaned in, lightly brushing his lips against Van's. Van wrapped his arms around the paler boy instantly, dragging Dilandau off the gargoyle as he deepened the kiss. Dilandau laced his arms around Van's body, dangling as Van flew away from the castle's walls.
"I've never flown without a guymelef," Dilandau whispered, mumbling as he traced kisses down Van's jaw. "But I definitely like this better."
"You just like it because you get a chance to see me with my shirt off," Van said.
Dilandau smirked, but whatever he had to say in reply was silenced as Van caught his mouth with his. The paler boy moaned slightly, and Van almost forgot to keep his wings moving.
"Where are you flying us to?" Dilandau asked after a moment, pulling out of the kiss. He pressed his cheek to Van's, looking out into the sky. Van smiled, eyes half-lidded.
"Dilandau, I would take you wherever you wanted to go," he said. He traced lazy circles on Dilandau's back with one free hand.
"Oh really? I might get heavy after awhile," Dilandau said, smirking. He nibbled on Van's ear.
"Well then if I were you, I wouldn't pick a place very far," Van replied. Dilandau was, in all actuality, surprisingly light. He supposed it was all that armor that made him always seem bulkier and heavier.
"It's nice just to fly," Dilandau mumbled. His rested his head on Van's shoulder, lips against his neck. "Just fly, Pigeon. Please just fly."
And fly Van did.
~*~
rainjewel: And there was fanfiction…and it was good. I sound omnipotent or something.
Ryan: Don't get too carried away with yourself.
rainjewel: I was making FUN of myself, goofball. Fun! F-U-N!
Ryan: *laughing* You are the goofball.
rainjewel: Life is far too important to take seriously. Now where's all that good, bubbly sparkling cider?
Ryan: You've all ready gone past your limit. Hand the glass over.
rainjewel: Yes, mother. *rolls eyes*
Ryan: Happy New Year everyone!
~*~