Ok!! I just have to sit down and write this chapter like I've been meaning to for quite some time. I finally got some reviews for my last chapter. It had been so long since I'd gotten a review that I had feared all of my faithful fans had forgotten about me! How silly I was to think such a thing! For I know now that you will always, most-likely, come and read! I have begun a new fic as well, so when I don't feel like adding on to this story, I'll be writing the first chapter for that.
I really want to take the time and dedicate this chapter to a few people: The Anti-Fan, Michiru3, Feye Morgan, WaTaShIwA ShInImEgAmI, and, VoilesDragonGurl. Oh! And Angel of Re! Can't forget her! You all need to go and check these people out! They are EXCELLENT writers that need Lots of reviews from you all! Thank you, and now that I'm done with my advertising, I'll let you read the next chapter. I believe we left off at a cliffhanger . . . .
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Guimel found that his wandering thoughts had led his feet to the eeriest of places, Dilandau-sama's corridor. ~Dang I had meant to go to the showers . . .~ He was about to turn around. He froze in place when he saw who was peeking into Dilandau-sama's bedroom.
Miguel was gripping the door handle tightly, and from what Guimel could tell, he was red in the face about something. Miguel looked as if he was about to rip the Vione to shreds with his katana. Very quietly, and with overstressed precision, he shut the door and turned towards Guimel. Guimel inhaled sharply and froze, he felt as if he was in the very shadow of the Reaper of Souls. Perhaps if he didn't move, Miguel wouldn't notice him. It was likely, he figured, since Miguel seemed more intent on grumbling at his boots than anything else. Only a few paces away now, and Guimel realized he was getting dizzy from holding his breath, he slowly exhaled.
For an instant, it appeared Miguel would just entirely ignore him, but time stopped as Miguel did right beside him. Guimel clenched his trembling hands together and swallowed. Guimel knew he was no match for Miguel, and most likely never would be. Miguel was just so strong! It quickly crossed his mind who might miss him should he die right here. Not many names came to mind.
"Don't tell a soul you saw me here, Guimel," Miguel whispered as a harsh threat. Guimel nodded in agreement as fast as he had ever answered anyone in his life. Miguel's grave glare sealed their little deal and he strode away. His aura had oozed a hatred so strong that Guimel could feel it even after he had disappeared around the corner.
"Sheesh! That guy needs to start taking his pills, and some anger management classes wouldn't hurt either!" Guimel flipped him off and strutted away. He figured the best thing for his health would be to just forget the whole incident. Even though curiosity tugged at him to find out what exactly what Miguel had seen to make him seethe so. He stopped and looked back, a good subordinate stayed in rank. He went and was never there.
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Folken's eyes widened in shock as he listened to the secret Miguel imparted to him. He pushed Miguel away and pointedly marched to Dilandau Albatou's quarters. How dare that spoiled good for nothing brat! Folken exuded fury, his cloak dramatically flowed around him as he practically flew through the halls. His eyes flashed a painful coldness normally never present in his calm, cool, collected state. Dilandau had gone behind his back and defiled his very brother. Folken was ready to tear the hide off of Dilandau himself for this insubordination. No form of retribution would be strong enough to make Folken feel justified. He would see Dilandau hanged in the end!
Dilandau lay on his back enjoying a quiet make-out session with his dearest Van, which Van had actually initiated. He had his hands lovingly placed on Van's back. He was still amazed that he had been saved. Death was conquered; he was free from its cold grip. With Fanelia at its side, Zaibach could win the war, and he would be promoted for it. His angel would always be right there keeping him safe. Inside Van's mind, he had thoroughly forgotten about anything that had ever mattered to him before. This silver haired wonder was his only care now. Somehow, he couldn't concentrate with Dilandau so close. He was sure he would never know what Dilandau did to him. Either way, he figured he liked it. Maybe . . .
They were both still flushed with the after glow of love making when Folken burst wide the strong oak doors to the room. Every reservation Folken had kept in place was gone and his true dragon nature shone, with his every flame aimed at Dilandau. Dilandau had shoved Van off of him the split second he had entered. Now Dilandau sat in his bed, living proof of what Miguel had betrayed to Folken's ears. He clenched his fingers around the sheets as he felt his ears and cheeks turn bright pink at being caught. This was not what was supposed to happen, shit . . .
Van and Dilandau laid there completely vulnerable to the Strategos' wrath.
"Brother . . ." Van meekly offered in apology, though, despite every better judgment, he was not ashamed of his choices. "Brother, I . . . I wanted this," and hugged Dilandau's arm to himself. "and I'm old enough to decide for myself . . ." He said this so quietly that even Dilandau wasn't sure he heard what Van said.
Folken ignored his sibling and strode to Dilandau's side. Dilandau squeezed Vans hand as a final comfort before Folken dragged him away nude to the dungeons. Folken's steal talons broke skin and almost crushed the bone of Dilandau's right arm on the way down, but that would be only be counted as a minor injury among the many others he would soon sustain . . .
Van looked at the desolate room and empty bed around him and wept. Inwardly he was torn between his brother, who had betrayed him, and Dilandau, who had nearly killed him on many occasions on the battlefield. Dilandau had hardly seemed like a warrior when they'd slept together, but that was his true nature. Van started thinking about what he'd done and a wave of guilt swept though him. He had willingly given everything he had left to him, and now there was no one left. He felt a dull ache as his stomach twisted in knots. He was all alone, his friends and ally's had deserted him to Zaibach, his country lay in ruins, and now he had sacrificed his body to the enemy. He truly had nothing. Yet his tears still fell.
Miguel snaked around the corner; a sadistic grin graced his face. He fingered his trusty dagger, which he had been compulsively sharpening over the last few days. So this was who had taken his Captain, his patron, his love from him? It was just a stupid foreign prisoner boy. This boy would only hurt his precious commander, he was the enemy. Miguel was there to see to it that this amorous thieving slut felt his raging jealousy and fury that had been pent up for so long. Just as he had planned, Folken had taken Dilandau away and now the whore was there to face his justice all-alone.
"Hey, slut, are you feeling lucky? Because, you know, you got very luck today with my captain Albatou-sama," Miguel spat at the crying boy. Van looked up to see whom this offensive voice belonged to. Another boy, not much older than he was, slunk from the door to his side of the bed. He wore the same uniform as Dilandau, except it was blue instead of red. His whole appearance was unkempt, as if he hadn't slept or cared for himself in several days. His usually soft, wheat colored hair was oily and he had dark circles around his eyes. Van gathered the bed spread around himself and wished his pants weren't so far away, his eyes narrowed at Miguel.
"Who are you?" Van questioned warily, as he wiped his face dry. He would cry later.
"I'm his lover, Miguel. I see you chose to seduce him, think you own him now do you?" Miguel lied. He smiled sweetly as he watched Van almost snap right there and then. "He didn't tell you about me then, I see."
Miguel came closer to Van, the glint of his dagger in the light of the setting sun. Van realized what Miguel's intentions were.
"Obviously he was getting bored with me and decided to pick up a new hobby," He looked down at Van, "Not a very good hobby, apparently."
Van wondered if what Miguel was saying was true. Was he truly just a substitute, a temporary distraction for Dilandau? Did he really sell himself out as a play thing? He clenched his teeth and became determined to not listen to this crazed soldier.
"I knew you'd think I was lying," Miguel said wistfully, as he sat down and started tracing the pattern on the comforter.
Without any fore warning, and as fast as lighting Miguel plunged his dagger through Van's foot. An unbelievable amount of pain sped up his leg and forced him to cry out in shock and pain.
"What the F*CK!!" Van cussed and tried to launch himself off of the bed. However, he didn't get anywhere due to the knife still being stuck through him and into the bed.
"Oh! I'm sorry! Did that hurt? Good! Then try this on for pain!" Miguel said as he punctured holes all the way up Van's leg to his thigh.
Van's blood spilled all over the immediate area, and he almost fainted at the smell of his own blood. Miguel dipped a hand in it and smeared it all over Van's face. Van figured his best option, seeing no weapons nearby, would be to escape out the balcony, as he had tried to do before. Miguel giggled in sadistic glee as he watched Van try not to touch his leg and still crawl away. He was half way to the balcony when Miguel kicked him onto his back and buried the bloody dagger in his stomach, careful not to hit any vital points, he still wanted him alive.
"Oh my, look at the mess you've made. Now someone will have to clean you off the floors!" Miguel laughed. This was precisely what he'd been wanting to do to someone for ages. The sight of blood merely fueled his anger.
Van pulled the knife out of himself and continued to drag himself away. If he could only reach the balcony! He could fly away and be rid himself of this hell he'd fallen into. His breathing was labored and he was getting tired and dizzy from loss of blood. He would live! He would make it back to Fanelia somehow and save his people! Thoughts like these carried him further.
Miguel simply watched as Van tried desperately to take himself to his only escape. Miguel was certainly curious as to what the slut thought he was going to do. Maybe throw himself over the edge? That would be amusing to watch him attempt. Van reached the railing and realized that he'd have to hoist himself up. It would be easy to just fly away from right here . . .
Miguel's mouth dropped open as he witnessed Van unfurl his perfectly pure white wings. He jumped up grabbed Van by his hurt leg and dragged him back though his own trail of blood, away from freedom. No Way! This brat was Draconian?! Holy Shit . . . Miguel felt compelled to kill this thing just because he was a demon, it was his moral duty to take this thing out. Van almost gave up hope, but he felt a new strength from having his wings revealed.
"Let me go, Miguel," Van commanded quietly but with much power behind his tone of voice.
"Don't tell me what to do demon!!" Miguel shouted at him.
Inspired, Miguel drew his katana from it's sheath and lined up his next blow. Van tried to use his wings to help him get away, but some of the feathers were soaked with gleaming crimson liquid. Other then that though, he had simply lost too much blood to properly use them. The effort Van was using to move forced his heart to work harder, pumping even more blood out and away from him, draining him even further. A strong wave of nausea caused him to collapse in the small pool around him as he struggled to remain conscious. Miguel's triumphant laughter stung Van's ears.
Miguel let his katana fall and it hit true to its mark. Van felt nothing for a moment, the pain was slow to get to him, but he suddenly felt lighter on his left side. He let his head fall that way and saw that he had been severed from one of his blood stained wings. Van heard the sword fall again and new that he could never fly again. This was a greater pain then any he had ever felt before. Tears welled up inside him, but he had no strength to cry them. He felt himself fading, he closed his eyes and thought of Fanelia.
Deep in the underbelly of the Vione, Dilandau was feeling his own pains . . .
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Ok!!!! That is the bloodiest thing I've ever written . . . I want to promise the audience I do NOT hate Van-chan!!!!!! I only hate Miguel now. I want to apologize for this, I didn't know how incredibly violent this was going to get.
There are still a few chapters to go, and I'll try to make this end as happy as I can. I'm only human. Please review, and you can flame me for this chapter, if you really must . . .but look at it this way, at least it isn't some "horrible" lemon scene! [Snicker] (As a lemon snitch would say, anyhow. I really don't like people who rat out lemons to FF.net. I don't know why they want to get rid of all lemon on FF.net. I think thought their motto was: unleash your imagination and free your soul!!! Well, I most certainly can't unleash my imagination without a few good lemons! Sorry, Ranting there, just ignore me . . . .)
I'll start writing the next chappie as soon as I get over this one. Thank you all so much keeping with this!!!!! And maybe this wasn't the best chapter to do dedications on. . . Oh well, I had to get you guys in there some time. Thanks Again!