The plan was to have Van's airship land at the harbor, then have a stately procession leading from there to the palace, with the King at the head and a score of Fanelian and Asturian military as the train. It was a plan to not only present the King as a vital figure of state, but also to help boost the morale of the people of a city which had taken a severe beating during the war.
The words that Fanelia had used to relate his opinion regarding the whole event were somewhat less than royal.
Celena listened with bright eyes while Millerna retold the tale. The beautiful Asturian princess folded her arms, put on an appropriately dark glare, and proceeded to mutter Van's entire dialogue word for word, some of which would have made the Crusade crewmembers blush. She completed the recital by sticking her pouting red lips forward and putting on a sullen expression that was an no doubt an exaggeration of what the King had thrown at his advisors. Celena giggled.
"Millerna!" gasped her sister. "That was completely inappropriate!"
"Oh, Eries," sighed Millerna, waving her hand slightly in the elder's direction. "It's just a joke."
The three of them were waiting, rather impatiently, at what would be the end of the procession. "Well, to finish what I was saying," Millerna continued, "it was lucky that Allen was there to convince Van to do this. I think it's a wonderful excuse to have a festival!"
Celena couldn't help notice how Millerna gushed at the mention of her brother's name. It hadn't escaped her more asture sister's eye either. Upon their introduction, Celena had been taken aback by the stark difference between them. It began with Gaddes' gallant introduction; a gentle kiss onto a gloved hand. Eries had given him the proper headnod befitting the social difference between her and the mere airship commander, whereas Millerna had rather shamelessly offered him a coy smile and some batting eyelashes. The handsome man had grinned mischieviously back, while the elder sister glared balefully at him from one side.
Celena was introduced next, along with the regret that Sir Allen was not there to do so himself. At that time she was free to drink in the sweet peach and white ruffled ensemble that Millerna had decorated herself with (including ribbons in her hair and matching jewels), and blanch at the dark grey and pale green that Eries had dumped on. She'd even completed the nunnish look by bundling her hair into a plain white hat, leaving only her gold-adorned ears exposed. Celena, despite her short hair and relatively plain sky blue dress (although anyone looked plain next to the radiant Millerna), looked more like a princess in comparison.
Eries' lips had been pressed into a thin line. "When is Dryden returning again, Millerna?"
The younger woman frowned and turned her nose up into the air at the mention of her estranged husband. "Oh, I don't know." Her tone held an undercurrent of regret, hidden admist a feigned annoyance. "He mentioned that he may drop in for the festival. Who knows." She thrust her wrist in front of Celena's face. "Look! Isn't it just splendid? He brought it to me from Zaibach! It's just wonderful that we can trade with them now."
"It's very nice, Miss Millerna," Celena murmured, flinching slightly. The bracelet's design integrated a complex pattern with gold overlaying silver in a manner that was unique to Zaibach's advanced artistry tools. Despite the beauty, it reminded her a bit too well of the other metalworking technology that Zaibach prided itself in: Guymelef production.
Millerna lifted a delicately shaped eyebrow at Celena's reaction. She'd been privy to Celena's secret almost immediately after it had been fatefully discovered by Allen and her sister, and she'd worried what might have become of her since settling home. The beloved Knight had spoken with her at far-spread intervals, and at those times he'd only had brief respites to hold the conversation. The words from him had been that his sister had been doing well. Despite his smile and his assurance, Millerna had read the concern in his shortened smile and lowered tone, but there had never been enough time to explore the issue further. Upon learning of the whole upcoming affair concerning Van, she wondered, and worried, about how much of Dilandau would be attending.
Celena was proving to be rather sane, although quieter than the other bimbos that had been dragged along with their influential fathers (Gaddes had quipped that he and his other fellows were having bets on how many of them it would take to drive Van crazy at the ball later. Gaddes had bet 3; Millerna bet 2). Her medical instincts had also picked up Celena's exhaustion, which she guessed to be from lack of sleep. Or was it something more...?
A fanfare blared from a short distance away, and a chorus of hearty cheers immediately followed. Millerna threw away all her apprehension and grabbed Celena's wrist, pulling her for the gates. "They're here!" she cried. "Let's go and watch!"
Celena let out a small squeek in protest, then allowed Millerna to haul her forward. She tried to convince herself that it was the excitement that had her heart pounding against her ribs, but she couldn't deny the fear the laced her veins. They stopped at the entrance of the palace, where Allen and the rest of the royal entourage were waiting to greet the Fanelian King. Eries arrived a few moments later in a far more dignified walking manner. The younger princess took the prominent position as representative of the Asturian royal family, the elder stood behind as the secondary representative, and Celena stood behind her brother as she was told. The Knight gave her an affectionate smile, which she responded to in kind.
The fanfares were becoming increasingly louder. Great cheers of greeting and celebration burst and expanded, annoucing to the smaller group where in Pallas Van was currently walking.
It all suddenly faded from Celena's view...
Even through the mists I can see that despised figure, his red shirt leading the way like a beacon. It would perfectly marvelous to break open the skin underneath and watch the blood of a King spread across the floor. Make him pay for the bite of his dragon...
...He's not even looking, the fool. Up on the skywalk the Strategos shouts. Even sweeter. Would the little boy's last thoughts be of how his brother betrayed his own country? How dear Folken let me murder its children, allow his soldiers rape its women, command our Guymelefs to burn its proud buildings to dust and powder?
I have him!
...Damn bitch.
I hate you...I'll watch your rich blood pool at my feet. I'll let all the soldiers on Vione taste your woman before I roast her alive. I'll--
No...
My face...
MY FACE!
Celena's eyes widened, and her right hand quivered as it moved to cover the right side of her jaw. Her mouth dropped slightly in astonishment.
A man riding a chestnut horse, closely followed by a combined group of proud Fanelian samurai and elegant Asturian soldiers, broke into view admist another round of fanfares and cheers. From a distance, all that could be made out was a suit of dark armour, the chest plate tan and emblazoned with a white and blue insignia. Red tassles quivered slightly in the spring breeze. Dark blue plates covered his arms and forelegs, while a brown shirt and pair of white pants engulfed the rest of him. A pitch black mop, unstyled and hectic from the wind, topped the rough combination, obscuring most of his facial features. The Fanelian King looked more dressed for war than for a political reception.
Celena's breath quickened.
...Small flying ship
...almost there...
almost have the dragon...
almost have him...
Dragon dropping from the sky, landing as the grand Guymelef. Advancing Dragonslayers. Outnumbered! Our triumph, OUR victory.
Slaughter.
Not him. Us. US!
They're dying, crying, begging for mercy, for help!
Chesta! Gatti! Viole!
..no..NO..
Help them HELP ME alone alone no one else he's
THERE he wants ME
he'll violate me he's coming COMING
he's stopped. he's screaming...
...no no no GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY
HE'S HERE AGAIN!
HE'LL DESTROY ME!
Eries' deceptively calm eyes followed Celena's hand from her side to her cheek, then fixed upon her face as the color drained. To the unknowning observer it seemed as if she was merely staring in childish wonder at the approaching King and his followers, but Eries knew better. Her frown deepened. She looked up at Allen. He was ignorant of the turmoil beside him, eyes focused on his approaching friend. She turned, gestured slightly at a palace guard and whispered in his ear.
Van hopped off his horse at the foot of the palace entrance admist the rapidly decrescendoing cries of the Asturian populace. He ascended the steps at a moderate pace, one hand on the sword at his side.
Kill him first...
Allen took a few steps down to greet him, their hands clasped in greeting. A smile of delighted recognition broke on the two men's faces. The people once again bellowed out their appreciation, for two of the heroes of the War of Destiny were now face to face in front of them; the Knight and the Wayward Boy King, like some fanciful picture from a folktale. Their personal words of greeting were lost among the cheers.
...before he kills YOU.
"Stop it," Celena commanded herself, her voice lost among the cacophony. She forced her hand down from her face and back to its proper position at her side, her eyelids smashing shut in the effort to push Dilandau into the back of her mind.
Admist the quieting clamor, Millerna managed to cry out the proper greeting to the royal visitor. "King Van Slanzar de Fanel! As representative of the Asturian royal family, I, Princess Millerna Sara Aston, welcome you to our country."
"Thank you," came the short, gruff answer.
"Ah, Van!" Allen exclaimed. The soft slide of her brother's hand on her back jolted Celena out of her reverie, causing her to stumble forward. She stared at the ground, the blood rushing to her face in embarressment.
"This is my sister, Celena." Allen shot Van a warning look. He'd warned him ahead of time that they'd been trying to hide Celena's alterego, as well as the decreasing stability of her mental state, but he was uncertain about how Van would react to her in person.
Celena swallowed, thrust aside all apprehension, and shot her head up to gaze at the man before her. She gasped.
Van stood before her not as a king, but as a battle-hardened soldier, one hand hovering naturally over his sword-hilt. He was slightly taller than she was, but still not quite to her brother's height, and the frame underneath the worn armour was beginning to show hints of broadening beyond the boyish, lanky young body. A simple blush teardrop pendant, tapering softly at the bottom in gold, hung from his neck, clashing with the sharp edges to the Fanelian insignia on his chest.
Despite the oddity, it was Van's eyes that held her. They were piercing with a combination of emotions that battered at both of the personalities swirling within her. He hated Dilandau, the signs hidden in the stiff setting of his frown and the twitch of the fingers over his sword-hilt. The urge to respond to his unspoken desire to destroy rushed the adrenaline into her veins. Even so, another emotion held her at bay, tearing through Dilandau's desire to thrust himself at the King and throttle him with his bare hands.
Love.
It was bitter, flavoured with angst, despair, and loss. From the bottom of their souls it came, even though they understood the true objects of their affections were lost to them, perhaps forever.
Through the terror and the confusion, Celena responded the only way she could.
She ran.