Astonished, Allen watched his sister flee. She plowed through two men carrying flags in honour of Asturia and Fanelia before disappearing into the castle. He began to doubt his decision to allow Celena to accompany him, damning himself for ignoring his misgivings. He began an apology, and was cut short by Millerna's hand on his arm. She was staring pointedly at his friend.
Van was staring beyond the flag bearers (who had resumed their dignified positions) into the the grand portal that had swallowed the woman that had once commanded the most elite of the Zaibach forces. Allen knew a lovesick expression when he saw one, although it was baffling why his friend would be directing such a look towards not only someone he barely knew, but someone whom he had every reason to despise.
"King Fanelia," Millerna said gently, "maybe we should escort you to your room?"
"Oh." With great effort, Van tore his gaze away from the door and looked up at the princess. "Right."
While the Asturian and Fanelian guards saluted and dispersed, along with the commoners, to ecstatically take part of the festivities, the royal entourage headed for the guest quarters. Allen exchanged baffled, worried looks with Millerna.
"I've taken care of it. Please don't worry," Eries whispered quietly in Allen's ear. He raised an eyebrow at Eries' presumptuous act, but to question a royal family member in full view of the public eye was unbefitting a mere Royal Guardman, no matter how heroic.
While Van's face began to harden over with the stoic mask required of his station, Millerna began to fill the King's ears with this, that, and everything about the upcoming festivities. She continued prattling on like a little girl as they strode into the palace, distracting anyone that might have been dwelling on the oddities of the last few moments. The fact that she could act nonchalant in the midst of Celena's abrupt departure was an unheard reminder that what had happened had not been seen.
Allen stole glances at Van while they travelled the corridors. His outward appearance remained dutifully as it should, but his eyes were glazed. He nodded appropriately, responded functionally, but his thoughts were clearly not on Millerna's current discription of the exquisite ballroom that had been constructed to not only entertain dignitaries, but to house prized Guymelefs as well.
A frown deepened on his handsome face. He remembered a young woman from
a foreign land, vibrant, full of love and energy, whose innocence and unique
beauty reminded him so much of she who he'd lost so long ago that his heart
had been captured.
Celena ran mindlessly through the twists and turns of the palace, feuled by fear. The delightful porcelains and color wall hangings that had so fascinated her before fused into a tearful blur. She had care for neither human or object, and fleetingly she wondered how many maids she'd shoved or pots she'd broken. Eventually, the bright, populated environment gave way to gray and black. She tripped on a hard stair, the back of her gown tearing, but this was only a momentary delay. On she continued, her heart slamming against her ribs, begging her to stop and at least catch a decent breath. But she couldn't, she had to get away. She couldn't face those eyes again.
At the top of the staircase her body finally won the battle, collapsing itself onto the cold, stone floor. Violent sobs wracked her thin frame. Overwhelming her was a profound sense of misery and loss, the source of which was barely identifiable.
"Folken," she whispered, the name fleeing from the depths of her soul to escape from her lips. The name was a frustrating mystery. But to Dilandau, the man was Strategos to the Zaibach empire, intelligent and respectable, but entirely too wrapped up in meandering with scientific garbage to be a proper soldier. That and he'd kept the company of far too many strange, loathesome associates. For instance, that disgusting shape-shifter he'd had to deal with personally.
"Now that thing was even more disgusting than you are."
Celena scrambled to her feet and stumbled out into the open. A short glance around told her that somehow she'd ended up on the balcony of one of the castle towers. The sun was just beginning to make its descent into the hillsides, painting the sky with brilliant red and orange hues. Dilandau, comfortably clothed in his Dragonslayer Commander's unform, leaned against a nearby pillar and looked up wistfully at the fiery color array. "Ah," he murmured, an eager smile stretching his lips, "that reminds me of things I wish I were doing right now. Don't you agree?"
Panting, Celena leaned against a pillar, exhaustion causing her legs to quiver uncontrollably. "No, I don't."
He continued to gaze at the sky. "I see. Why, that would explain why you didn't crack open that lovesick shit's head on the ground like he deserved." Dilandau's gleaming red eyes and feral smile widened even more. "Why, it would have been perfect to see his brains oozing onto the parapet in front of all the little soldiers and all his little friends." His voice lowered to an eager whisper. "My heart pounds just with the thought of it!"
Through his shrieking cackle, Celena found the strength to shout, "I won't do it! You can't make me!"
Dilandau whirled on her, suddenly furious. "Why? Because you think you love him?" He gripped her by the shoulders and shoved her hard against a pillar. "Understand this. I hate him! HATE HIM!"
She stared at him, barely breathing, too frightened to move. He leaned in close, peering malevolently into her wide, blue eyes. "But you think you love Folken, don't you? I wonder why. What sort of revolting trysts did you two have behind my back?"
At that, Celena became angry. No matter how transparent her memories were, the emotions that had been felt were still prevalent. How dare he stain the memory of the man she'd loved! She wriggled one arm out of his grip and did the unthinkable.
SMACK.
The feel of her hand against his cheek was satisfying, and for a moment she felt triumphant. They both stood still, frozen in the aftermath of the motion. Dilandau's head slowly twisted its way back towards her direction. Before then, she didn't think a look so insanely furious could exist on a human face.
"How. Dare. You."
"I'm sorry?" she whispered weakly. She struggled, trying to do everything in her power to free her remaining arm, but the leather encased hand around her wrist had tightened to the point where blood could no longer flow. The Dragonslayer Commander's free hand slowly pulled backwards, the fingers wrapping into a fist. Celena threw her free arm up to protect herself, screaming in pain and desperation.
Surprisingly, Dilandau released her and put his hands over his ears. His face took on a remarkably comical, worried expression, and his knees knocked together. "Aiii! Stop it! What did I do?"
Celena gaped at his suddenly high-pitched voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head a few times. When she looked again, Dilandau had disappeared. A beastwoman, dressed in the simple marked tunic that marked the young of the cat-tribes, was staring at her curiously.
"Allen's sister, right?" she quipped. Her paw-like hands were now folded behind her back and her nose was quivering quizzically in Celena's direction. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she said, rubbing her bruised wrist. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."
The cat-girl apparently had little sense of subtlety; her narrowed eyes and o-shaped mouth were blatant signs that she did not believe Celena's statement.
"Riiiight. Who were you talking to then?"
"Me?" Celena pointed to herself and attempted to look innocent. "Oh, no one! Just, you know, remembering lines from my favourite, uhm, play." And if you buy that, I have a flying fortress to sell you.
"I seeee." Boy, Allen's sister is wierd! And she smells funny. Like Guymelefs and fear and flowers all at the same time. "Well, Princess Eries' sent me to get you. She said that you got lost."
"Thank you, Miss."
"It's Merle." She smirked mischeviously. "Lady Merle! Don't forget the 'Lady' part."
Celena mustered up all her remaining pride and stared the impudent beast woman down. Dilandau whispered softly in her ear, echoing aloud her inner thoughts. "What an obnoxious thing. I really should teach her a lesson. Perhaps dangle her by her tail over the balcony wall. What do you say?"
A mixture of frustration, fright, and irritation mingled on Celena's face. Merle's ears perked up at the strange expression. "Eh? Did you eat something funny?" She wandered closer to get a closer olfactory perception.
"Hey! Stop that! It tickles!"
"Ew." Merle pinched her own nose and waved a paw in front of it. "You reek! Did you even think to bathe this morning?"
"Of course I did!"
The cat-girl bent at the waist to get a closer inspection of Celena's dress. "Everthing's wrinkly and ripped. I bet you were running."
Celena cringed. "So?"
"Oh no!" Merle gasped and wrung her hands. "Are you going to start having visions?" she wailed. "And saying wierd things? And playing with funny looking cards?"
Celena was absolutely baffled. "What in the world are you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing," Merle mewed. "Let's go! I have to take you to your room so you can get clean and look somewhat decent. Don't get lost again," she added under her breath.
Celena followed the kitten down the tower stairs and through the maze of extravagent royal decor. Neither of them spoke during the journey, although there was significant time to spark a conversation, due to the troubled plays of their own thoughts. Celena was preoccupied with keeping Dilandau at bay. Whispering taunts promising violent thrills were starting to become tempting, but she managed to force him back. Barely.
Merle's hackles were rising steadily. The guardsman had illustrated Eries' desire that Merle not mention Van's name when fetching Allen's sister, as well as a brief necessary description, but there were some very important other details that she felt had been left out.
That ugly short hair. That ditzy, clueless demeanor. That rude manner!
Why, if it wasn't for the fact that she looked like Allen, she might as
well be escorting Hitomi!