Sunshine invited itself in from the windows near the meal table, making pleasant a warm spring's breakfast. Celena ate somewhat like a rough soldier, scooping things into rough and tasty piles before jamming them into her mouth. With Eliste and Allen's prodding, however, they'd managed to get her to stop chugging her drinks and had her sipping them, if not like a lady, then like a civilized person. Allen ate beside her, in a far more dignified manner.
Celena belched out triumphantly at the end. She'd managed not to do so when most other people were around, but present company was excepted. Gaddes, at the other end of the table, pointed and laughed uproariously.
Allen cast a glare in her direction. "Please don't do that, Celena. It's not becoming of a lady."
"But Gaddes doesn't mind," she protested.
"I mind, Celena," Allen reproached. She nodded sheepishly.
Once a maidservant had poured them all after-breakfast tea, Allen pushed an open scroll towards his sister. She picked it up, enthused by the officious wax seal and the flourishing script within.
"Gracious invitations to the Schezars, Allen Crusade and Celena," she read. "As hero and family in the great war against Zaibach and invaluable aide to the afore mentioned victory, your presence would be appreciated in the grand welcoming ceremonies to His Royal Highness, and fellow hero, Van Slanzar de Fanel. Please arrive the morning of the designated date for proper rehearsal and preperations." She scanned down the rest of the praise and appeal towards her brother the Oh So Mighty Royal Knight Caeli to find the date. "Oh! This is three weeks from now!"
"Yes," Allen replied.
"And I get to go too!" Excitedly, she bounced up and down in her seat.
Both Allen and Gaddes cast surprised looks. "You actually want to go?"
Celena blinked, as if the answer should be obvious. "Why?"
"It's just, little lady," Gaddes replied, "this is the first time you've even showed the slightest desire to step foot out of these grounds."
"So?"
Gaddes drew breath to explain the abnormality of her eagerness when Allen interrupted. "Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"You realize you'll have to wear an expensive dress, fitting for the royal court.'
"Yes."
"And probably some of those eenie weenie lady's shoes," piped Gaddes.
"Aww."
"Or at least some dress boots," her brother remedied.
"Wonderful!"
"Then it's settled," Allen finished. "We leave in three weeks! You'd better pack at least a week's worth of clothing." He tweaked her nose affectionately. "Since you've finally decided not to deny the public your lovely appearance, we'll have to site-see the capital."
The young girl nodded in agreement. "But only if I get those boots."
"Of course."
Celena let out a whoop of joy to rival the one she'd made the day before. Gaddes covered his ears in appreciation as she streaked upstairs to decide what she was going to bring. He looked at Allen. Their long standing relationship gave the him no need to verbally ask the question that his face could project.
"Because she's finally excited," Allen answered.
"What about your suspicions?"
Allen placed his elbows on the table and interlocked his fingers. He sighed, eyes closed, a troubled expression clouding his handsome features. "I know she's been sick in one way or another. She's been trying to hide it, and she's done well, but a simple tumble down a slope would not account for her sickly pallor."
"Then why are you letting her--?"
"Because she's finally excited to be out. It's been nearly a year and a half and she refuses to step outside of the estate unless I request it."
"You know what the worst case will be."
Allen nodded, his face shadowed by a weary, saddened look that only this soldier, companion, friend would ever see. "At least then I'll know for sure."
Gaddes was grim. "What if it's better not knowing?"
"It's never better not knowing."
Crushed by the weight of disastrous possibilities, Allen sighed. "If
I have to," he whispered, "I'll do what I must."
The combatants circled each other. It had been a long, grueling fight, and their shirts and hair were sopping with perspiration. Two swordarms quivered in exhaustion, yet adrenalin-pumped excitement still shone in both their eyes. Finally, one of the fighter's patience was lost, and the clang of metal upon metal signaled a return to their deadly dance.
Thrust, parry, thrust, parry. Hack downwards blocked by a swing upwards. Foot swing out from the opposite side, cracked aside by one leather encased arm. Slice to the head missed by mere hairs due to a quick roll forward. Spring to the feet, sword swung to one side to parry a followup. Swinging sword to knees, jump upwards to avoid. Back onto both pairs of feet, thrust, parry, thrust, parry. Stronger of the two pushing the weaker back, metal cross inches away from sweating faces. Neither looking away from the other's eyes, the weaker baring teeth in strain.
"C'mon Celena," Gaddes grinned, leaning pursed lips forward, "give me a kiss!"
Celena's lips thinned in irritation. Her opponent's eyes suddenly went wide in shock and pain, and his sword dropped to her feet. A few seconds later he was down on the ground, clutching a bruised manhood.
"Now that's not very fair," groaned the elder man.
They had been practising swordmanship since a few months after her homecoming. He had caught her completely by accident, wearing a pair of pants borrowed from a her brother's closet (nearly two sizes too large) and a blouse of her own, swinging a sword around in the middle of a small clearing in the nearby forest. Upon the vanquish of some shadowy opponent, she had posed in a knight's salute undoubtedly picked up from observing the illustrious Knight. Gaddes applauded, genuinely impressed. She had jumped and dropped the sword from nerveless fingers, pleading for him not to let Allen know what she had been doing. His first concern was that she had resorted to thievery in securing the sword. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be one from Allen's swordsmanship training which she had discovered shortly after her return. The blade was chipped in several places and the hilt had been swiftly repaired with tree sap glue and some strong, light rope.
Gaddes recognized talent when he saw it, and there was no reason to let this one slip by, girl or no girl. Although he realized he was witnessing one of Dilandau's talents having slipped through, he couldn't resist the temptation. Scampering around behind the boss' back was a boyish thrill, and Celena promised to be an eager opponent.
Although she hesitated at first the deal was set, and they met once a week after that, always in the same spot at the same time. At first, Gaddes spent time watching her adjust to her weaker, clumsier female frame. Many of the mock fights ended with her on the floor, ankle twisted from some root or rock her foot had managed to catch, and Gaddes' sword pointed at her throat. After several weeks of such training, however, Celena's (Dilandau's?) peak form had asserted itself. The hardy soldier now found himself frequently facing the blunted point of Celena's inferior blade from some awkward position in the dirt, her smirk on the other end.
There were times, Gaddes felt, that the endeavor had become too risky even for him. Dilandau's fighting style was undeniably dirty. Celena had no qualms about kicking him when he was down, slicing at his unguarded backside, or striking those places that an honorable knight (or in this case, a fellow man) would have never dared. Although Celena would apologize profusely afterwards, it still left an uncomfortable question dangling over Gaddes' head, especially after Allen's continued suspicions and recent revelations concerning her alterego.
Would it be Dilandau Albatou one day grasping the hilt of that broken sword?
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Celena was pulling his arm, trying to get him to stand. The sharp pain had reduced to a dull throbbing, and Gaddes allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. While he regained his composure, the silver-haired girl began to go through some elementary fencing moves that he had shown her the week before.
"I'm just so nervous," she quipped. "Going to the capital, meeting the king, seeing everything!"
Gaddes leaned on a tree trunk, smearing sweat on his brow with his sleeve. "Why are you so excited, little hermit? You know there'll be all those people there."
Celena frowned, freezing in a customary attack position. Her sword quivered in front of her, free hand wavering up near perspiration moist locks. "I don't know," she confessed. "Something inside of me really wants to go. And I haven't seen the King since, you know, the war. Don't you think he might look different?"
"The King, eh?"
She dropped her position to throw him a confused look. "What?"
"Have you been harboring a little crush on him all this time?"
"What!" she cried, voice sharpening with indignation.
"I see," nodded Gaddes, an amused grin decorating his unshaven maw. "So THAT would be why you're so bent on going!"
"That's not true!"
Gaddes walked up and pinched her on the cheek. "Then why are you blushing?"
He expected a slap, or even another knee to the groin. To his surprise, and his dismay, Celena's response was far more deadly.
A snarl rippled from lips curled to bare slightly pointed canines. Her sword swung from her right side, the worn handle grasped in two delicate hands, and hacked downwards. Fortunately, he hadn't sheathed his sword, and a blade aimed to split his skull was deflected effectively if awkwardly.
The ensuing conflict was completely different than any of the others they'd had before. Blows that would have been cautiously deflected in such unarmoured sparring were not, and her precision was uncanny. Slices to the jugular, stabs to the heart, swings meant to open his belly and spill his innards on the ground were all dodged or blocked, but he was weary, and he found himself forced onto the defensive.
Celena, on the other hand, fought as if fresh. She swung and stabbed, consistently on the offensive, whacking away any attempts by Gaddes to be so. Eyes narrowed by a rage entirely uncharacteristic of the cheerful, childish young girl was complimented by a mouth distorted by the same emotion.
Gaddes tripped, whispering an obscenity.
Dwn on his knees he went. The chipped and worn blade came flying down, and their blades met in another cross, only this time it was Celena who held the superior position. Gaddes' arms quivered. He grunted with the effort of holding her back, surprised that her small frame could exert so much pressure. The menacing glint off his own blade forced him to look to one side.
"Enough already," he growled. "Let me up! It was a joke!"
Dilandau snickered.
Gaddes' breath caught in his throat. He peered through the stabbing light reflecting off his sword. Celena's mouth had stretched in a wide, maddening grin, her narrowed eyes burning with the thrill of the upcoming kill. The snickering escalated into a shrill mocking laugh. It was sung with Celena's high tone, but with none of her gentle demeanor. Replacing her normal bright color was something dark, cruel, and sadistic.
"Van." The name came like poison from her tongue, spat it out with all the hatred that could be mustered. "I will show you what I think of Van."
Celena's sword came up in a stroke that Gaddes knew his twisted ankle and worn muscles could not dodge completely. Perhaps, he thought, sword flying back to try and meet the blow, he could get away maimed instead of dead.
Then his opponent screeched out a cry of indignation. Gaddes caught a glimpse of flowing blonde hair through the sweat dripping into his eyes.
Allen gripped Celena's sword hand tightly around the wrist, pressing against nerves and ligaments until the blade fell. His free hand gripped the other wrist, twisting it behind her viciously. Celena spat obscenities, trying to kick out backwards at whatever part of her brother's body was closest. Nothing connected, as her movements were clumsy and Allen danced out of the way of the uncontrolled attacks.
"Yield!" he barked, pretzeling Celena's arms into a more painful and maneuverable position. A feminine, frightened cry of pain burst from her lips. The Knight recognized the nature of the noise and released her.
Celena staggered forward, wrists bearing red marks from her brother's fingers. She clutched her head, and fell over some roots. Fingers tightly gripped silvery locks, while her throat released an ear-splitting scream that sent shivers running down both men's spines. Allen rushed forward, and gently gathered her curled up form to his chest. Upon being cradled, her body collapsed, the strings cut. He looked up, peering angrily at the Crusade First Officer.
"I'm in deep shit," Gaddes mumbled, "aren't I?"