Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: General/Romance/Angst

Warnings: Depressing at times, moves at a slightly slower place than anticipated.

Scarlet Love

Chapter 1

The girl looked up at the dark cloudy sky. Through the sunroof she could see no stars tonight. She thought about what had happened, of today. She touched the spot where he had left his mark, in a secret place deep inside of her. She wondered, will things still be the same? But, of course they would.

She was being silly again. How could he? Why would he, if ever . . . There was no reason. She should not think of such things. She was just his tool, his instrument, nothing more and could never be something more. He is her master and always will be. Even though sometimes, she wished, hoped, and fantasized that it would be different. That they could be something else, something closer, and more . . . She knew that it was hopeless. The girl sighed, shrinking back against the wall of the large empty room, the room that they shared, where it had all happened since the beginning.

Deré was her name, a lost girl who lived on the streets, constantly plagued by hunger, exhaustion, and filth. She had been wandering for days? Months? Years? She did not know. She had not kept track of time.

It seemed like forever that her life had been in this state. Why, she didn't even remember how old she was anymore. It was so long ago since anything but hunger and sleep had occupied her mind. She tried to think back to the reason that had lead her and trapped her in this miserable way of life, but she could not. No matter how hard she tried—nothing. She remembered nothing. It was as if something was preventing her from reaching the secrets carefully locked away, almost as if she didn't want to remember.

Every day was a repetition; a sea of people gliding past her, men, women, children, couples arm in arm. She would sit there and watch, too tired to get up, too hungry to sleep. The days passed, drifting from morning till night, from darkness to light. It was all the same to her. Once in a while, she would walk along the crowd, but they all avoided her, directing their eyes away. It had bothered her many times, and made her sad. She wanted something without knowing what it was.

One rainy day through her mindless wandering, Deré stumbled into the arms of a stranger. In haste, she tried to mutter in a weak voice, excuse me, I'm sorry, but found all proficiency of speech lost as she looked into the bright green eyes of a young man, age eighteen perhaps? She could not tell. But what had attracted her gaze towards him was his gaze in return. There was no disgust, no pity, just an implacable sadness. Almost as if he knew exactly how she felt. All this time through her mental and physical struggles, as if he had spent every moment with her and knew exactly what she was thinking.

Falling into a trance, she could not turn away from his face, those bright, emerald-green eyes. Was it the rain that gave them such a longing appeal, so warm and full of life? All she knew was that she wanted to stay there, forever drowning in his eyes. All of a sudden, she realized that the ground below had disappeared as he had lifted her into his arms, carrying her away. Unable to speak, she let him carry her. She didn't care, didn't think about where he might be taking her. There was only one simple thought in her mind—let this moment last forever. And it did, it would be forever imprinted in her heart.

She had been working for a total of six months, almost half a year now. Eden was his name. He was the owner of a pub and it was he who had rescued her. She liked to think of it that way, that she was a princess in distress and he had rescued her.

Eden had taken one look at the girl standing before him that rainy day and felt a jolt in his heart. It was something that he couldn't describe. Maybe it was the strong aura of her very essence when he had neared her. Such hopefulness. And her eyes, which had been intently locked onto his, were inescapable. She was a very beautiful girl, an albino perhaps, with long silvery-white hair flowing like a fountain down to her waist. Covered in bits of dirt and leaves, parts of it were tangled and unmanageable. He had wanted to straighten it, comb it and brush it until it shined. Then there were her eyes, misty from the rain and so very blue, but also with something dark hidden within, something painful and sad. At that moment, he had swept her off her feet and held her in his arms. He could feel the frailness of her body against him, so fragile, so delicate. Her small hand had reached up towards his face for a moment, before falling limp again as she had shut her eyes. She had been so silent and unmoving that for a second, he had feared the worst. But to his relief, a closer look at the steady rise and fall of her chest promised that she was only in a deep sleep. He had sworn to himself then, to care of her.

Deré was more grateful than she could ever express in words. The affection that Eden showed her was more than she could ask for. He looked after her, fed her, clothed her, and much more . . . she thought he loved her. He is so gentle, in the night, beside me, his eyes so full of love. Am I imaging this? She always wondered. It must be a dream. It must be one of those dreams where you wake up and are again, cold and hungry, on the streets with no where to go to, no one to turn to. A familiar sadness etched itself across her face.

But she never had to dwell on these insecurities for long, because he would always be there by her side. It was these times that he would hold her and reassure her that everything was alright, that she wasn't dreaming, that he was real, and with her. Except, this happiness was too good to be true, for Deré's life was one that lay snuggly within the twisted hands of fate. And as she would soon find out, it was one destined to be submerged within loneliness.

He's letting me go, thought Deré. Why is he doing this? Why was he letting her slip away from him? She thought he had loved her, that he cared. What is this? Anger? Burning inside? She had never felt anger before, not in her known memories. There was nothing to be angry about. Her state of living was a mystery, it did not inspire anger. Looking back one last time, she reached out to those bright green eyes, now watery with tears? But he turned away and would not meet her. Eden slowly retreated back to his pub, back to his life before her.

This new man did not have green emerald eyes, nor were they bright or full of life. Her new 'master', Dilandau-sama, was a 17 year old boy with eyes of blood-red. Saturated with something she could not understand, could not comprehend. It was a mix of something between anger and hatred, confusion and pain. She cried silently, feeling empty inside. She would be alone again. After meeting Eden, she had felt happy, safe even, but everything she had treasured in the last half year disappeared before her, fading away like rain-clouds washing away sunshine.

The present fell from her thoughts as her surroundings became faint and slowly disappeared. She did not look at Dilandau-sama and his eerie smile, and she did not react to the way he touched her face. In her mind was a white room with no windows or doors. It was just a plain, white room. She did not feel claustrophobic, but there was a feeling. Was it pain? No, she was not in pain. She had not loved him. It was the other way around, but she needed him. It was a sense of loss. He was someone she needed, desperately. She needed to be loved, cherished, and he had given her all that. And yet, he had let her go. He had sold her to some General Dilandau Albatou of Zaibach, explaining, "This is for the best."

Those were his last words, not goodbye, not I'll still love you, not even an apology. She felt trapped, left alone, so alone. Unconsciously, she turned her head towards the window, leaning her forehead slightly against the cool glass without noticing his eyes on her at all. Instead, she was enclosed in the deep crevasse of her mind, troubled by questions. Who would she turn to? Who could she cry to?

The carriage swayed rhythmically with the trotting of horse-like creatures. Dilandau studied the girl beside him. She was very beautiful, even in simple maid's clothes. He would fix that when they returned to camp. She had silver hair, just like him, which somehow made her even more appealing. It shone, as moonlight hit each strand. But that was not why he had taken her, not because of her appearance. There was something else, something about her, something mysterious that he wanted to possess.

She sat quietly next to him with her hands carefully folded in her lap, eyes closed. What is she thinking, he wondered. The way she seemed so peaceful and serene, with an air of tranquility surrounding her, amazed him. Was she not aware of his identity? Was she oblivious of what he did with girls such as her? Never before had he met someone so calm, Folken being an exception. Perhaps it was because everyone trembled beneath him, feared him. Perhaps they were afraid and supposed that he would never tolerate such calmness that clashed boldly with his own disoriented mind. However, she aroused neither irritation nor annoyance. In fact, she made him feel relaxed and happy? No, that wasn't the word. Content perhaps, yes content. Dilandau placed these thoughts aside, allowing himself to drift off, giving in to exhaustion and sleep.

There was a sudden halt as the carriage came to a stop. He cursed at being awoken in such a manner but the girl seemed unaffected. There remained that lack of expression on her face, peaceful yet strange. He stroked her cheek gently and she opened her eyes. It was unnatural, her eyes, hollow and devoid of life. He paused for a second, staring at her in wonder.

"Dilandau-sama?" the girl questioned. It was the first time she had spoken since they left the pub. The odd moment had passed and her eyes reverted back to its original shade of blue, a light, misty blue. He did not reply. A few of the dragonslayers had seen their lord's carriage and hurried over to form the beginnings of two straight lines.

Deré sat alone in the carriage. It was early morning and the air drafted in a thick fog as rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds. The rain had stopped and the sky was slowly clearing up. She raised a hand to pull back stray locks of hair. She was thinking about many things, where she was, what she would be doing . . . but most of all, of him. Eden. How was he doing? Did he miss her? Was there regret? She thought about his face, his smile, and his voice that seemed so far away. He was so different from Dilandau-sama. Her master frightened her. He was so cold and distant, staring through her with those eyes, those unreadable blood-red eyes. She sighed, a shaky, sad exhale of breath. Then, the door of the carriage opened.

They were walking towards a red tent amidst blue ones. How appropriate, she thought. The boy leading her was of the same age as Dilandau-sama. In fact, she noticed that they were all about the same age, and that there were no women present. All of the boys were dressed in a shiny blue armor, similar to the red one that her master wore. They seemed to stare as she walked by, making her feel more than just a little uncomfortable. She hugged herself in a manner that one would have thought she was cold. A crispy wind blew through her hair as she heard the boy stop. She did not realized that they had reached their destination already, or that he was standing in front of them. Dilandau said something sharply and the boy left, his face downcast. Without an exchange of words, he beckoned her into the red tent.

The space was small. In one corner was a large cot with red pillows and red sheets, perfectly portraying a touch of his fiery nature. To its side was a simple little stool, hand-carved and polished. She knelt down slowly and felt its smooth surface. The wood felt cool against her skin. Did he make this? It seemed rather odd and out of place; the mildness of the stool in contrast with the rest of her surroundings. She noticed that the floor was composed of dirt, save for a furry carpet on which the stool sat. His gentleness with her was rather strange as well, because she sensed something hidden beneath his cool demeanor, something untamed and distorted. She wondered why he had bought her. The thought made her sick. The way she was sold to him as if she were some common possession such as a stool. It made her upset and she sat down on the stool, mentally laughing. Marking circles on the fur carpet beneath her feet, Deré huddled, alone in the tent. The wind blew and she hugged herself tighter.

O4o86

Last revised: 02/23/05