AN: ;__; This chappy's a tad boring *sobs* I'm really sorry *wails* But it's some explaining... From here on in there will be more fluff! Of course drama will continue building.... Please review! n_n Hope you like this chapter....This one's to all of you who reviewed! T__T I feel so honored. That's all for now! ^_^ *grins*
Of A Dream | Chapter 4
Anger seemed to flood through Van's pumping blood stream, his breathing laboured as he tried his best to make it down the hallway. If only he could just get out of this forsaken place, and heighten his chances of cooling down. Clenching his jaw, then relaxing it as he ran his tongue over his parched lips, his maroon eyes darkened as his hand groped for the handle of his sword. Tempted to unsheathe the blade with a sharp slicing noise and destroy something, Van brought his hand in front of him and shoved the large main doors open. Cold afternoon air smarted his cheeks, the breeze running in between his locks of midnight raven hair.
Shutting his eyes, Van looked like he was thinking deeply about something righteous or calm to an onlooker. But inside that skull was a torrent of annoyance, rage, and confusion. The simple act of her staring at the crest… The crest on his sword… It was like she was violating his privacy. She had no idea what the crest even meant.
Then again, sometimes he wished he didn't either.
His thoughts dwelled on the scene as he had left Hitomi's room, his face set in a frown as he was stopped by Allen Schezar.
"Van Fanel, I have a message for you."
"Yes?" Van replied, not bothering to make his tone polite.
"You are to remain at the Kanzaki estate, the King believes it would be best that way," Allen said calmly, his sapphire blue eyes not flickering the slightest bit as the glare built on Van's face. Perhaps if Allen had not expected that reaction from the soldier he would have been alarmed, but Allen knew the lad well.
Not necessarily on good terms, of course.
"And why would that be good for me?" Van asked lowly, his voice like a blade; sharp and even.
"King Aston understands you more then you think, Fanel," Allen replied bluntly, "He supports you, he cares for his soldiers. Your temper is well known, and while some have stated that is a good drive, the king believes it will in the end get you killed. He could allow you to stay, help the army, and eventually die. Or he could ask you to remain here, become a better soldier, and perhaps one day become a general."
"I don't want to be a general, I want to fight," Van spat, his voice on the brink of a snarl. Allen, however, noticed something lingering at the back of the boy's maroon eyes.
"Don't think I don't think like you," Allen commented wryly, "I used to be like you. The King will take you back once you are ready. Good day to you, Van Fanel." Nodding his head, Allen left Van alone in the hall way, the sound of the tall man's footsteps dying away soon.
Running a hand through his unruly hair, tilting his neck back till he was looking up at the sky, Van exhaled sharply. He could hear his heart thudding inside his ribcage, and despite the fact his anger was gradually hiding away each thud was like the pound of a war drum. He remembered as a child when his mother had found him hiding in his closet. He had been ashamed of his heritage, and his mother had smiled. "It's natural," she had said, "You're different; on your own. But be strong Van, because you may be on your own, but that never means you are alone. I hope one day," she added softly, "That you'll be proud of yourself."
Van's features tightened as he remembered things he had long held back, and panning his gaze across the horizon frantically for a distraction, he spotted something. The church; so innocent surrounded by bottle green grass, the sun setting around it in washes of orange, blue and pink.
Curling his fingers around the door handle and pulling it open, his free hand immediately flew to his eyes as intensified, bright light streamed through the stained glass windows into his maroon orbs. Turning his gaze to the darker side of the church, Van continued walking down the aisle. He passed the floating candles, twinkling so angelically he wanted to extinguish them all by throwing them onto the floor. Finally reaching the back doors, Van crossed across the short green yellow grass that had just begun to die and found refuge at the statue he had found Hitomi. The warrior and maiden were gazing at each other, and Van felt something deep inside cool down, however his exterior remained angry. It was like his spirit was calm and his physical body was furious.
Time had done it's job on the statue, and it looked as if you kicked the statue hard enough a piece would fall off, perhaps even cause the statue to collapse. The knot in Van's stomach stayed though, begging for release. Like a fire wanting to be extinguished.
Looking down at his sword, he slid it out of it's sturdy sheath, only to see the crest baring up at him. His eyes and lips moving into a disgusted expression, Van slid the sword shut again, the knot tightening. Roaring in anger and anguish, Van turned his body sharply, curling his fingers into a fist and hitting the first thing it came in contact with, the statue.
Van was half relieved half angry that the statue didn't break and crumble. His skin was slightly raw from grating against the texture of the stone, but for a brief moment he forgot the crest.
Inspecting the small bits of skin peeled back revealing pink flesh, which stood out from his tanned skin, Van looked at his hand, wiggling his finger slightly. Curling up his left fist, he punched at the statue again, the skin on his left knuckles resembling his right now.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
Pink flesh was aggravated away by more friction, cutting through small blood streams, small crimson droplets contrasting against his skin.
He was trying so hard to forget. His features tensed slightly, but not so much that he changed expression. With every punch, the calm, forgetful moments shortened, the spark dying out faster and faster. There was nothing to soften the impact of bone on rock, and Van mused that he was probably damaging his fingers. It was like something was pulling at him, to rid himself of this pain. The walls he had built around himself were growing tighter and tighter, and as he struck the statue again some loose pebble stuck to the sticky red liquid staining his knuckles. Looking up at the illustration that was the sky, Van gave a silent plea.
I don't want to be here anymore; let me go.
***
Staring blankly at the ceiling from her shelter of blankets, Hitomi shifted uncomfortably as she replayed the events with Van in her head. There was obviously something significant about the crest on his sword. Nevertheless, it was none of Hitomi's business.
Still…
It was not as if she knew of the confidentiality of the crest. It had been an honest act of curiosity, not a prying one. Puffing up her cheeks and exhaling a sharp breath between her lips, watching a few strands of her hair covering her eyes fly up, Hitomi rolled out of bed after stilling for a moment.
Grabbing her robe which was folded neatly on a chair, most likely by Merle, Hitomi wrapped it snugly around her as she set out to find what she hoped to be a new friend and not foe. If her apology went well, then it would fall into place easily. She hugged her torso as she walked down the hallway.
Things rarely did.
***
It was quiet except for the sound of the whistling wind, the sky darkening slowly, a gradient of sky blue to navy stretching across the horizon. Van stared at the dark crimson stickiness on his knuckles, his angered face now in a seamless expression of insouciance. The sharpness of the air stung at the exposed flesh on his hands, and he watched as he curled his fingers into a fist. A few more droplets of blood trickled from the pink wounds, some areas turning white. Relaxing his fingers again, the white areas gained some colour while the new droplets ceased. Getting up slowly, Van looked up, about to head out when he noticed Hitomi staring at him, not too far away. His first thought was how long had she been standing there. He followed her emerald eyes as they flickered from his knuckles back to his maroon eyes, and blinked, inside waiting for her reaction.
Her pink lips parted, as if to say something, and it was then she reconsidered. Walking slowly up to Van, Hitomi removed the sash of her robe and pulled at the two ends. Van watched the material strain under the stretch, noticing a loose thread in the middle. The thread ran, causing others to follow, until the sash was nearly split in half. With a final tug, the sash was in two neat cream colored pieces. Taking one of his bloodied hands in her own without a bat of an eye, Hitomi wrapped his knuckles with the pieces, tying them neatly as she could see red seeping through already. He had done quite a number to himself. Van nodded, perhaps as a thank you, at Hitomi before turning to face the process in the horizon of night taking over day. He felt the rush of air blow up as Hitomi plopped down onto the tall grass, toying with the material on her sleeve as Van kept his gaze resolute.
"I heard about what Allen told you," she said quietly, staring at her feet, "It won't be that bad, will it?"
"I'm not going to pretend that it's the worst situation possible," Van replied expressionlessly, "But I won't like it here."
"Don't be so sure about what will happen to you, your destiny is yours to control," Hitomi murmured, but when Van asked her to repeat herself as he had not heard her, she mumbled 'nothing'. The two watched the clouds that were slowly melting into the darkened sky. Eventually Van sat down as well, keeping a three foot distance away from Hitomi.
"I know I can't make things good for you," Hitomi said quietly, staring at the horizon, "I'm not going to fool myself and pretend that I can lead you to joy. Or that I even understand what you are and have gone through. But if I could just show you that things can be better…" she trailed off, resting her chin in her tucked knees. Night was almost done taking over the sky, hues of midnight, azure, and ebony streaking the clouds, the sound of the grey blue ocean crashing against the rocks audible. As Van remained standing, indifferent to the beauty around him, he sheathed his sword with a sharp slicing noise.
"I don't need your help".
***
"The Iyana tribe used their power of switching very well. It was their weapon. If they had a physical one at all they used scythes. As you know, scythes are powerful but not very light and easy to use. A sword is much--"
"Easier to maneuver then a scythe," Hitomi finished, piercing a slit in the stem of a dandelion before threading another stem through the hole. A pile of dandelions rested in the basket her skirt made, however she was listening intently.
"Very good," Dryden smiled, "Often, reincarnated forms of victims of switching received painful visions of their past life. Also, witnesses of switching, witnesses who had been traumatized also occasionally received visions. There was one kingdom, Fanelia, that fell due to the Iyana tribe switching everybody, and those who managed to survive killed themselves due to the distress their visions inflicted on them. The Fanelian territory is now part of Asturia, actually. From the plates of Gaea shifting the earth, the land was eventually pushed into hills. What with the water so close, the soil is rich, full of nutrients Asturia relies on for some of it's vegetables."
Dryden scrambled around his desk, pushing various scrolls aside before picking up a light brown one. Unrolling it, Dryden smoothed the paper on his desk, scratching his chin. "The line's a bit faded, but—Aha." Pointing to a light red line, on the east side of Asturia, Hitomi squinted to make out the neat lettering reading "Fanelia", followed by a faint crest.
"That's it," Hitomi gasped, Dryden raising his head and turning to face his student.
"What?"
"V—My friend, his sword has that crest on the hilt," Hitomi answered quietly, running her fingers along the slender golden crest.
"Hitomi," Dryden finally stuttered, "Who is this friend?"
"I don't know if I should reveal his identity," Hitomi whispered. Van had never told her to keep quiet about the crest, in fact they hadn't talked about it at all. But something told her that it was not something to share. For a moment, Dryden looked as if he wanted to keep prying. He relented however, and scratched his stubbly chin.
"That could only be the royal sword," Dryden muttered, loud enough to make sure Hitomi could hear.
"Royal sword?" Hitomi questioned, "What's so important about it?"
"Well, the royal sword is the only sort of proof the rightful king of Fanelia has. With it, he is allowed to reclaim his country."
"But isn't it a bunch of hills with good soil?"
Dryden laughed dryly.
"Think."
Hitomi fingered the small yellow petals of the dandelion wreath in her hands, and frowned. After gingerly placing it on her head, her green eyes brightened.
"You said Asturia relies on it for vegetables, so maybe if Fanelia became it's own country Asturia's economy would drop?"
"Very good," Dryden smiled.
"So why doesn't the king reclaim his country?"
Dryden paused for a moment, unsure of whether to tell his student or not.
"Fanelia was known as the tragic kingdom."
"Why?" Hitomi asked after Dryden said no more.
"If you recall, the last member of the Iyana tribe was wiped out on Lover's Cliff. Before that, the cliff was just a cliff in Fanelia," Dryden explained, an unreadable expression on his face, "The tale has been passed along so many times, the names of the king and maiden were lost. However, some believed the maiden's name was Christina. Some believed it was Aaliyeth. Some believed it was," Dryden paused, giving Hitomi a wry smile, "Hitomi."
Hitomi's emerald green eyes widened as her throat went dry. A hand gripped her heart, and she began to feel dizzy.
"What was the warrior's name?" Hitomi asked, wheezing slightly as slight lines appeared around her eyes.
"No one knows," Dryden admitted, "But back to the story. The warrior king had successfully wiped out most of the Iyana tribe with help from the Knights Caeli from Asturia. No deaths had occurred, however several injuries happened to the switching. Some lost legs and arms. But no death. And then it happened. The first death occurred. The late Queen Varie spotted one of the Iyana tribe, and just as she was about to drive a dagger through the monster, in self defense, the demon switched places with King Goau. That caused a chain reaction. Soldiers killing each other, children being killed by their parents.
The Iyana tribe would advance onto the Fanelian people, sending panic running through the poor people's blood. When finally the Iyana tribe would create a moment of vulnerability and sheer terror, the people would try to kill them, and they'd switch bodies. There were very few survivors of this slaughter, less then ten. The prince, now a king since King Goau's death, was one of the few. Intending to revenge his people, the newly coronated king wiped out most of the tribe. The last member was fought on the famous cliff. However, at the last moment the tribe member switched places with the king's fiancée. The king's true love. The king was so horrified as the sword drove through his love, that he swung his sword through his own stomach. Thankfully a Knight Caeli took initiative and killed the last monster. And with no royal blood left, the Fanelia council agreed to Asturia's offer to become one country. Time moved on, Fanelia turned into that hilly land, and here we are today."
"No way," Hitomi breathed, taking in the information. "That's horrible."
"And it's true," Dryden replied, "Several plays have been based on that tragedy, along with art pieces. That statue in the graveyard? Also inspired from the Fanelian tragedy."
Hitomi felt slightly queasy, and that forgetful stinging was edging at her.
"Are you alright?" Dryden asked, frowning.
"My head hurts," Hitomi admitted, and digging around in his robes, Dryden produced a small item wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it, he broke off a piece of what looked like bark and handed it to Hitomi. "Here, it's willow bark. It should help."
"Ew, do I have to eat it?" Hitomi asked, inspecting it closely, her nose scrunching up.
"Yes," Dryden laughed, "And if you keep your face all scrunched like that it'll stay that way. Just chew and swallow." Groaning, Hitomi slipped it into her pocket as she stood up.
"Maybe if I start to feel like I'm dying. I'll see you tomorrow," she nodded, and split out of his study.
***
Van gently brushed the already gleaming coat of a black stallion, similar to a horse he had owned before. Guilt racked at him, and now he remembered why he hated tasks such as this that allowed him too much time to think. But it was there, he had sincerely felt bad about hurting her feelings. He could say sorry; but the possibility of her turning down his apology haunted him. Patting the horse firmly on the side, Van left the stables, his chores for the day done. The stables gave him a perfect view behind the graveyard, and he noticed Hitomi sitting on the grass, her head tucked into her knees. Either she was thinking deeply, or crying, and Van feared it was the latter. Was she like this because of him?
This isn't what I wanted to be…
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