Chapter 10
Dedicated to: Steph, Tina, fOX-SPIRIT AKA Y.V, Ravy-chan, and TigerWolf
Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters.
She carefully placed the hot towel over the wound on her leg. Biting her lower lip, Deré let the pain wash over. This would be done repeatedly until she felt cleansed. It took long hours each night; dipping the towel in the hot water, wringing it until it was semi wet, and then the hardest part—contact with the skin. And so, here she was again, like every other night, in the large bathroom of their room.
It was actually a very nice place to be. The walls and floor were surprisingly not red, but white. There was an oval shaped mirror embroidered with platinum designs, a basket of red roses beside the sink, and a towel rack that stood just beside the large tub. The atmosphere was light and comfortable.
She was sitting on a towel placed at the edge of the tub, her somber features revealing something bothering her, something that she couldn't stop thinking about. A lone sentence repeatedly ran across her mind:
If you did then you would realize that you're hurting him.
It had come as such a shock. She was hurting him. Hurting him. It wouldn't stop haunting her, those words. How much truth they held, she didn't know, but the possibilities were there! Had she ever thought about it, she might have realized sooner. Maybe it was she, herself who was harming him. Oh, how horrible she felt. And at that moment, the door of the bathroom opened with a soft click.
He walked up to her and stopped as she turned her face away, unable to look into his blood red eyes. There was a barrier between them that hadn't existed before, an invisible wall that she had newly constructed. Nervousness plagued her still form, gripping nervousness unlike the type which was instilled by fear, but rather, nervousness of the heart.
She saw him with new eyes, new consideration. She felt shy. Except she never felt shy with him. How odd a feeling it was to deal with, and at a time like this, in her awkward position at the edge of the water. She heard him undressing, clothes falling down to the white, tiled floor. Stealing a quick glance, she began to fumble uneasily with the towel in her hands.
He seemed to regard her with fascination and annoyance. She felt him sit down beside her, his lean form relaxed. He was wearing his boxers; blue silk. A pale hand reached out lazily and found hers; it took away the hot towel and dropped it into the water. He placed a finger beneath her chin to tilt her face upwards until their eyes met.
There was a slight smile on his beautiful face, one that reached his eyes, which were rarely joyous. All was forgotten as she closed her eyes to let him guide her, his lips only centimeters from her own. However, the magical moment came to a halt.
He paused and all that could be heard was the call of the arigriss perched on a tree. She opened her eyes, confused.
"Why are you blushing?" He seemed amused with her unusual behavior.
And for a second, she continued to stare at him; bewildered. She hadn't even realized! With him, she had never been embarrassed, never shy, and certainly never blushed! It must have been absurd for him!
"It's the heat."
"Really?" He sounded unconvinced but left it at that, thankfully for Deré. But the magical moment had passed and was lost. Instead, he reached into the tub and retrieved the soaking towel. Then, lowering himself into the hot water, Dilandau leaned forward. As gently as he could, he let the hot cloth graze over the wound on her leg. He saw her tense with pain, but relax again, and he was satisfied as he proceeded.
***
Another week had passed and Deré's wounds had reduced to ugly scars. But her nervousness around her master had increased. Every time she saw him, she turned the other way. It was really quite irritating, but it couldn't be helped. She felt the rosy pigment splash across her face whenever he was near. But these thoughts would be put aside for now, because she had overheard the dragonslayers talking of the arrival of Lord Folken and Celena. This joyous news promised excitement and happiness, temporarily disposing of her worries.
She missed the girl. If remembering correctly, on the night she left, Celena and Lord Folken had just cleared up their misunderstandings and declared love for one another. Deré had been worried for the girl, and there was still that feeling of guilt. Deré let out a sigh, she only hope that they were happy and thankful now, having found one another. She would have to see when they arrive.
***
A light snow was falling, covering the earth in a blanket of white. Snowflakes adorned the bare black branches of countless trees, giving the appearance of snowblossoms. A delicate frost was sprinkled over the many windows of Muertia as icicles hung from the roofs. The forest gleamed, mysterious and beckoning; dreamy like a mirage. Glazed over, the evergreens stood, wearing their new elegant gowns of silver. An arigriss was perched atop the tallest one, calling, the sound distant but clear. The pond was frozen; a flawless, sparkling mirror of ice. Everywhere she looked, golden sun and downy white gave birth to the beauty of a winter morning.
Everyone was gathered in the garden. Folken and Celena had surprisingly appeared at the door at 6:15 am, two hours early and only minutes after morning practice began. Luckily, Dilandau was in a good mood and summoned everyone outside. The two women were wearing long furry coats as they hugged each other and began chattering non-shop. Meanwhile, the dragonslayers, excluding Chesta who wanted to save the snow, were having a snowball fight. The two men exchanged greetings and walked together slowly, away from the group.
From the expression on Folken's face, Dilandau knew that he had something important to tell him. As patiently as he could, the young General waited for the Strategoes' news. And finally, after more than ten minutes, Folken spoke slowly, "You already know that there is a struggle between the internal continents."
There was a pause as he organized his thoughts, "Emperor Dornkirk has decided that now is time for us to intervene."
"But he gave royal affirm that I was to be excused from this nonsense! My dragonslayers are elites! We do not fight petty wars that do not concern us!"
"You have been given direct orders to accompany General Chey Lastone in a territorial invasion."
Folken waited to hear Dilandau's upsurge of rage, "*WHAT?!* FIRST OF ALL, I REFUSE TO GET INVOLVED WITH THOSE INFERIOR COUNTRIES AND FURTHER MORE, I WILL NOT BE *ACCOMPANYING* THAT BASTARD CHEY! WHO, WHY IS THIS EVEN HAPPENING?! WHY DOESN'T DORNKIRK JUST LET THOSE PATHETIC EXCUSES OF A COUNTRY TO SCREW THEMSELVES OVER?!"
He huffed and he puffed and the snow around them seemed to melt as all was silent. Chey?! Dilandau hated that name and hated even more the person who owned it. At eight years of age, Chey had been sent to train with Folken, who at that time had also been teaching Dilandau. The two boys had been good friends until a particular incident took place. After Chey left the Vione to return to the homeland, the only time they ever met again was on the battlefield, and never face to face.
Having expected this eruption, Folken continued in a nonchalant tone of voice, "He believes that it is time for us to take matters into our own hands and end these pointless battles. He would like the lands to be claimed for Zaibach under the name of General Chey Lastone, however, he understands that this is a difficult task, and so he has asked for the assistance of the great General Dilandau Albatou. We must also remember that General Chey is the direct heir to the throne as he is the grandson of the Emperor."
Dilandau rolled his eyes and threw a snowball at the nearest tree, knocking down a squirrel-like creature which quickly scurried away with it's tail between it's legs, "Folken . . . just shut the hell up, he is not *asking* me anything, he's *ordering* me. Damn Chey . . ."
Folken remained silent, looking back at the trail of footprints in the snow. He breathed deeply, "I assume that you have decided to agree?"
"Does it look like I have a f**king choice?"
***
The snow continued falling, burying the land in white. Celena embraced the girl with long silver hair. She felt like a different person, a new person. Too much had happened; some good, some bad. She remembered the day when they had first met, the shocked look that had been on Deré's face.
It seemed like years and years ago, that day. It seems so far away. I still had on that silly mask back then. What a fool I had been, living in a fantasy world and unable to face reality, when I had just been freed from insanity. Trapped was I, trapped like a helpless child. Even though physically released, emotionally, I was far from it.
Still to this day, I ask myself, why didn't I tell him earlier? But I don't know, and I still don't know. Dilandau, sooner or later, he will have to realize, must realize, the importance, the value . . . It may be too late, but I will guide him. She is the only one who can save his soul, who *is* already bringing him back from the darkness he has fallen into.
He has changed. Folken knows it, I know it, the dragonslayers know it. But it is not enough to change. There must be realization. You are no one, unless loved by someone. And so, brother, for I see you as my brother, I pray for you, because I have found inner peace, and so must you.
Celena wiped away a small droplet from the corner of her eye. Smiling warmly, she took the girl's hand and squeezed them gently, "I have found inner peace."
The two girls continued to talk about their days away from each other. Celena filling Deré in on her relationship with Folken, and Deré in return, sharing her days spent with Dilandau and the dragonslayers. The chatter continued and the two friends found themselves laughing and crying together; separation had brought them closer. It was only when an angry shout from Dilandau was heard, that Celena stopped their conversation and began another.
"Deré, I have to tell you something."
Blue eyes searched through lighter blue as Celena carried on, "We will be going away for a long time. A war is about to start, a bloody war of dominance. Emperor Dornkirk's ambition has lead him to crave control over the interior continents, which are currently at war with one another."
Deré lowered her head, the thought of her master going away to war was not pleasant. Although he was one of the best, with an elite army, it was still dangerous, "How long will you be gone?"
"I'm not sure . . . because Dornkirk thinks that this is going to be simple, the old fool doesn't know that he's being lead like a dog. There are few who remain loyal, to him and his successor, Chey Lastone."
Celena shook her head in frustration, not knowing how to explain the situation. "You see, Dornkirk is old and ill. They, the conspiracy within the inner court, know it. But they also think that Chey is too young to take the throne, being only 17. This means that they will be doing all they can to be rid of him.
"The next in line is an elder, but he will be easy to take care of. That leaves Dilandau, who's next on the list."
Eyes opening wide from shock, Deré grabbed onto Celena, "No, they're going to hurt him too aren't they?!"
"Somehow, they've tricked Dornkirk into letting only Chey and Dilandau go together on this assignment. They must have decided that this would be the most efficient way to kill the both of them. But the enemy is not to be underestimated. There are more than forty countries making up the internal continents, and even though they are at war, they still have numerous armies. They can easily overpower us in numbers."
"Celena, don't go! I don't want you, Dilandau-sama, or Lord Folken to get hurt! Or worse, what if you don't make it back! Please!"
She was more than concerned, she was frantic. What can I do?! I know that Dilandau-sama will obey his orders no matter what. Oh, why so soon? And the dragonslayers, there are no guarantee that they'll all return safely. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. But before she could speak again, Celena interrupted, "That's not the only thing we have to worry about. Dilandau and Chey also have conflicts. I can't help but imagine that Chey will be plotting something against him.
The reason that I'm telling you all this is for you to keep a watch on him, him and his bitch. Joselin can't do much because she has no combat skills, but she's still as vile as a serpent."
"But how am I going to do that? Doesn't Dilandau-sama and everyone else know?"
"Of course we all know! And he expects it from us too, but he doesn't know you and he would most likely assume that you're . . . well . . . you know what I mean. I'm sorry, but it works to our advantage. Because they're coming here instead of meeting on the battlefield, we must watch him carefully. It's always most dangerous when you're not allowed to eliminate your enemy." Celena stopped talking and looked at Deré. The girl was staring up at the sky, her mind off somewhere else.
I know what I am. To them, to anyone, I am just his tool, his instrument; a useless, helpless servant. As each day passes, I am forced to face the fact, the fact that I love him. When I see him my heart beats faster, my head spins and I must look away, ashamed. One of my standing does not and cannot begin to image an intimate relationship with her master. But I cannot help it or prevent it.
More and more, I find myself drifting off, fantasizing, picturing, and pretending. And when I wake up from my dreams, I cannot stop myself from crying inside. Even though I have promised to shed no more tears, to be stronger, I feel them leaking from an endless reservoir. It disgusts me, my weakness. I must learn to suppress my feelings. They are forbidden and the consequences unthinkable. If we were to be together, be something more than just the master and his servant, I would be endangering him, being a weakness for his enemies to use against him. I understand so much. But it's sad isn't it, how life, my life has turned out this way . . . twisted by fate.
***
The girl held a red rose in her hand, carefully plucking each petal and letting it fall gently to the ground. She was sitting on the wooden floor with her head upon the lap of a young man. His bangs were shading his eyes as the dark curtains enclosed them. Long sage colored hair draped down from her head, hiding a sinister smile. The silky burgundy of her nightgown appeared black under the dimly lit lamp on the nightstand. But oddly, he was in a silvery white amour, marking him as the prince of Zaibach.
O4o86*~
A/N: The arigriss is a bird!! My sister made it up so it's not real^^, and Chey's name is pronounced *Shay*
*Also, thx to Eboni for my new summary idea