The room was uncomfortably silent. Celena, whom Eliste (long experienced at handling noblemen and women unconscious after stumbling home from late parties) had bathed and dressed, now lay pale but calm, almost buried within the soft folds of her bed. At her side sat her brother, fingers interlocked, elbows on his knees, and eyes closed. Furrowed eyebrows revealed his agitation. Leaning against her dresser was Gaddes, still in the same dirty state he'd been in the forest several hours before. He drummed his fingers on the polished wood, head bowed.
"Look boss, I'm really sor--"
"Don't be."
"I really didn't know this was gonna hap--"
"You should have thought a little more, then."
Gaddes resumed drumming his fingers. "How did you know we were there?"
Allen's eyes opened and slid over to his First Officer. "You go to the same place at the same time on the same day every week. Someone would notice."
There was no arguing that. Gaddes cursed silently and scratched his head, made itchy by unwashed sweat. "Well, why didn't you stop us beforehand?"
Eyes closed once more, and a sigh pushed out Allen's first sentence. "I don't think I was thinking. All I wanted was for Celena to be happy." He slid his palm to his eyes and leaned into it. "I watched her from behind a tree at a safe distance. Gods, when she hit the shadows..." He swallowed. "When she got back into the light it was my sister again, smiling. I couldn't make her stop doing something that obviously she enjoyed. I thought it might make her run away from me again."
Allen glanced at his sister. Celena, even prior to her abduction, had this dreadful habit of turning tail and running when confronted with options that she didn't agree to. Just like the dress incident two weeks before, she would eventually return to grudgingly accept the terms. Every time she fled, Allen's mind's eye kept seeing a far younger Celena, racing down the fields while he chased afterwards. Somehow she'd keep ahead of him, and while she did she was fading away... disappearing... another loved one falling out of his life...
"Shit." Gaddes walked over to the opposite side of the bed and kneeled down. "Those Zaibach bastards."
Allen brushed at stray locks of Celena's hair. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" he whispered.
Celena stirred, looked blearily at her brother. She croaked, "Allen?"
He smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired." She sighed and curled up under the comforter.
"Do you know what happened?"
Celena's eyes went wide with fright. She nodded slightly and buried herself under the comforter. "Are we in trouble?"
"No, Celena." Her brother lifted the comforter off her head. "However, we do need to decide what to do now."
"What? Are you going to ground me for stealing your sword?"
Allen's hand gently grasped the bottom of her chin. "Celena, there's no use hiding it anymore. I know you're still very... sick."
She sat up slowly, blinking questioningly at her brother. "What do you mean, sick?"
"He means, little lady," inserted Gaddes, "that whatever those twisted Zaibach Madoushi did to you is still messing with your system."
"I feel fine," she grumbled. "Nothing to worry. Remember? I'm now Celena and no one else." She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
"Celena would not have acted the way you did earlier today," Allen remarked quietly.
She waved a hand. "I was just...upset because you were teasing me, that's all." The two men exchanged glances. "What? You don't believe me? Look! Van Van Van. I like Van. See? Nothing."
"It's a concern," Allen continued. "These sickness spells of yours. That incident today. It's obvious specific things are triggering it now. What will happen when you see Van in person?"
She frowned and pulled at a few of her curly locks. "You mean you don't want me causing a public spectacle. Exposing myself." A cry of frustration tore from her lips as she lifted the covers back over her head, "Let them find out already! Then at least they can start belittling me in my face than behind my back."
Gaddes folded his arms. "Tell the truth, boss, if we don't bring her it'll just raise more suspicions."
Allen sighed. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. "All right. You can still come to the ceremony, Celena. Provided," he added, "nothing like this happens in the next week. But when we get home, I'm sending a courier to Zaibach for help."
Celena cringed. Neither her (nor Dilandau) relished the thought of being inspected once again by Zaibach sorcerers, friendly or not. Within her still lingered pre-Dilandau memories of... something they did; something that was not worth repeating by any means. Although her natural instincts had buried any specific images, she could still recall feeling terrified, confused, and, most of all, lonely. However, the alternative, living the rest of her life in such a state, battling dominance with Dilandau every day (what if it became every hour? every minute?) was far worse.
"When the Madoushi comes," she finally whispered, "will you stay with me?" Not be away, she added to herself. Not like before.
"Of course, Celena," he responded softly. He leaned into the bed and gathered her into his arms. Gaddes quietly left the room, while the young girl began to sob into her brother's sleeves. Allen's eyes teared slightly. There was no telling what horrid procedures the Madoushi had used the first time around to alter her Fate, but there was unfortunately no one else with such information. He held her as close as possible, relishing the feel of having his sister once again with him, heart pounding with the fear that he may be losing her once again.
"I'll be there this time for you."
She walked down the hallway, boots clacking on the stone floor. The news awaiting her commander was not entirely unpleasant, nor would it be unexpected, but she wasn't thrilled about meeting his response.
The hallway opened into her commander's sitting room, where he was draped onto a throne-like chair. By his wide, staring eyes and the mechanical way the tip of his fingers scraped along the chair's backside, she surmised that this was one report she wished she could have passed along to someone else. She snapped to attention and saluted.
What is this? What am I doing here?
"What is it?" growled the impatient figure.
"Sir!" she kneeled to the ground, fist over her heart. "I am sorry to report, Commander..." Report? What am I here to report?
"Well? Hurry up!" The commander swung his legs over the side of his chair and stood. His footsteps echoed through the chamber, crescendoing as they approached. It paused in front of her, the tips of the boots barely within her peripheral vision.
"I... I... the Madoushi..." She was bewildered. Hoping for some answers, she looked up.
Her own face leered down at her.
Leather-encased knuckles, colored as if dipped in blood, cracked into her right cheek bone. She fell to the floor with a cry. Immediately she tried to get back up, enraged that anyone would strike her so, and was felled by a kick to the abdomen. She curled up into a ball, coughing.
Her "commander" reached down and hauled her up by the front of her uniform. "Celena, Ce-le-na," he said, drawing out each syllable as if relishing the bitter taste. He brought her to her feet by the front of her uniform. The distance between them was such that had she leaned forward, their lips would have met. Instead, she recoiled, and began pounding on his shoulders and arms, demanding in shrieking, violent tones that he release her. None seemed to have any effect. He shook her violently until she stopped.
"You're letting your foolish brother bring in those sorcerers?" Dilandau screamed, emphasizing his question with another shake.
"Yes," she whispered hoarsely, "to be rid of you. So I can forget that I ever became you!" Her voice rose. "You're vile, horrid! Leave me alone! I never want to be you again!"
Dilandau barked out an obscenity and shoved her. She stumbled backwards into his audience chair, landing hard onto the stone. Celena tried to get up, her fear motivating her to move, despite the stabbing pain that began at her tailbone and was edging its way down her legs. Dilandau was there even before she'd had the chance to take a single step, one hand pinning one of hers to the chair, the fingers of the other wrapped around her neck.
"Running away." He giggled, tightening the grip around her neck. "It's all you're good for. Running. Running from Eliste, from Allen, from Jajuka." The giggle escalated, becoming a full fledged maniacal laugh. "But you can't run away from me! Because you were me, Celena, no matter how much you want to forget!"
Both hands moved to crush her larynx. She gasped and tried pulling at his wrists. Kicking had no effect, and the effort only seemed to increase Dilandau's elation at her expense. His laughing visage began fading away...
Celena awoke, bolting upright to a sitting position. For some reason, she discovered she still couldn't breathe. The panic only rose when she discovered that her own hands were at her throat.
She shakingly removed her fingers from her larynx. Bent over her covers, she tried to refill her lungs with minimal noise. She bit her knuckles, hard enough that her teeth pierced the skin. A small trickle of blood raced down her hand as her eyes widened with horror, sweat soaking her thin nightgown. She hadn't been sitting in Dilandau's shoes this time. She'd been facing Dilandau, speaking to him, while he shoved her, hurt her, tried to kill her. Fleetingly, she told herself that seeing his memories, however horrific, were far more preferable.
Something mocked her, chuckling for her ears alone. A searing flash of pain tore through the back of her eyes and ripped through all the nerves in her head. Celena gripped her comforter tight enough to make her fists turn white, and ground her teeth together. It was all she could do to keep from screaming.
If you want them, you can have them.