Darkness in the Twilight
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By Psycho Ferret and LunarCrystal
The Riots - Darkness
Everyone expected some sort of uprising in the city. People were angry. They were hungry. The King Aston had been falling further into age and grew senile and decrepit. It was a strange day, indeed, when the captain of the guard summoned Asturia's Regiment to block the gates to the palace, the twelve Knight's Caeli in front of the line of guards, all with swords drawn and idle. The crowd was stirring. It was a mighty crowd of commoners, with angry voices that shouted curses to the noble knights. Rotten fruits and vegetables were thrown against their fine blue uniforms, marring the leather and silk, but still they stood.
The attack had been expected, but not the violence of it. Hundreds of people rushed to the closed iron gates at once, pushing the knights in their struggle to gain the King's mercy. But if they would not have his mercy, than they would have his death. The knights and the guards were overwhelmed by people, all of whom held primitive weapons, clubs, pitchforks. Many knights were struck down, and the rest needed to drag them behind the gates to safety. There was no peace here. The crowd was relentless and fought against the gates as they closed behind the last knight dragging his blond-haired comrade.
It would be hours before Celena heard any word from her brother, having waited endlessly all day in their stuffy, boring manor. She knew of his duty, but not of its severity. At first, she'd been relieved to hear hoofbeats upon the cobblestone of their court yard. She looked out the window and saw, instead of her brother a-horse, a carriage was driven by Allen's second in command. She watched from behind the dark curtains as he leapt hastily from the driver's seat, another soldier stepping out of the carriage, before both men brought her brother out, limp and bloodied in their arms. His beautiful uniform was sullied and stained with his blood and smashed fruits.
Terrified, she ran to the door and threw it open. "What's happened?!" she called out to Gaddes.
Gaddes panted, the long, hard ride to get away from the riot, as well as the anxiety itself, exhausting him. Yet another injury Allen had sustained and again it had them all worried.
"Rather selfish of him to get himself injured like that all over again." Gaddes' words were gruff, but tense. He was worried, it was obvious. The man with him helped Gaddes shuffle the blonde inside, settling him on the first couch they found. Later he would be taken away, taken to his bedroom, but for now...
"The people... they rioted. The knights, no one could hold them back! They... we saw it all, Miss Celena, all of it. We got to him as fast as we could when we saw him fall and brought him back here."
Allen's breathing was soft, shallow, his narrow chest rising and falling dangerously beneath the stained cloth of his normally pristine uniform. There seemed to be blood everywhere, though not all of it was his own. One of his fellow knights had fallen beneath a nasty blow that had left no one around him clean. Later, he would be mourned. Parts of the lovely uniform were torn, revealing a few scattered scratches and smudges of dirt and blood and food against the pale flesh beneath. Long blonde hair had been streaked with blood and fruit, presumably when he'd fallen beneath one or another's blows.
But the worst of the wounds were the gashes at his eyes, a lucky strike someone had made with a crude, but efficient, dirk. Blood already beginning to dry smattered against the pale skin, making the wound itself difficult to pick out. And at his side, another lucky shot, a deep gouge made by something of a pitchfork. Thankfully for Allen, the wielder had been unskilled and had fallen off balance.
Even with his skill with a blade, his finesse and easy efficiency in battle, Allen couldn't take on a mob. Especially not an angry, desperate, starving mob.
"This is madness!" cried Celena, mostly to herself. She looked down at her brother in horror, her eyes daring over every injury, every soil of his clothes. He would need a healer, but she supposed there was none to be sustained at such a moment of turmoil in their fair port city of Palas. Celena was no healer, but she knew urgency - she knew her brother needed help, and needed to be eased of his pain.
As she loomed over his prone form, she looked to Gaddes. "We need to clean his wounds." she said desperately to the first officer. "How badly is he hurt?"
Gaddes shook his head slightly a little frown on his lips. "We're not terribly sure. We haven't checked him out yet. We just wanted to get him away from there. It's bad enough that if we leave him alone, he'll.... well, he'll get worse," he finished quickly. He didn't want to say it in front of her and, well... he didn't want to say it at all. Allen was a respected man and the chance that they'd lose him... Gaddes had experienced that enough to have his fill of it.
Sending the other soldier off with directions through the manor he knew very well, Gaddes sighed, resting his hands on his hips, staring down at Allen. Well, at least he was still breathing, no matter how shallowly.
The other man returned shortly with a bowl of cool water and a cloth he'd gotten from one of the servants who'd huddled in the doorway, handing them off to Gaddes, who knelt beside Allen, his face drawn and worried. "Don't you cut out on me," he whispered softly, forcing the trembles out of his hands as he peeled off the coat and shirt, setting the empty sword belt aside. In their panic, they'd left his blade.
He could only hope it wouldn't be the one to slay the king... or any other soldiers there.
Gaddes sat back a moment to survey the damage, then carefully went about cleaning the blood from Allen's skin with quiet proficiency, wary of nudging the wounds. When it was done, he sat back, frowning. "We'll need to bandage him and send for a healer later. There's not much we can do for him..."
Celena could only nod, as she was helpless to do anything of value and had yet to find her niche in their high society of Asturia. With her unconscious brother half-stripped down to his trousers, they were able to clean the offending wounds. Gaddes pressed linen clothes to the puncture on Allen's side, watching as they were quickly seeped with the knight's life blood and had to press harder. Meanwhile, Celena tried to clean Allen's face.
It was a horrible mess of crimson, now dry and matted with his hair on his face. His eyes seemed to have taken the worse of the battle, rimmed in blood. Some violent, crazed person had tried to press his eyes in, it seemed, gouging at them and now -- oh, by the gods, she could only hope her dear, sweet brother was not blinded by such a cruel act of madness.
"This is madness," she whispered again to herself, "What is happening in our country. Our fair city is being devastated by rage and torment. All because the populous have nothing to eat. Someone must speak of this to the king! Surely he would have the power to end this . . . this anger!"
"We have tried, Miss Celena," came Gaddes' quiet, calm reply. Too calm. He was too calm. He wasn't sure what was going to happen to Allen and he wasn't letting himself think about it. Not now. Not when Allen needed him to help him, not when Allen's' life depended on them sustaining him until they could get a healer.
Gaddes was pretty sure his eyes were torn, his vision shot, at least in one eye. He was no cleric, he did not know of such things. If only Millerna had been there. She might have had more of an idea than he. But he didn't let it deter him. Eventually getting the bleeding to slow, the man wrapped bandages about the blonde's abdomen and then, as well, over his face, gently, but tightly and firmly, around the nasty wounds at his eyes.
Gaddes' heart rammed into his chest as he worried and fretted, a frown tugging on his tanned lips. If Allen... if he...
No. He couldn't think like that. Not right now.
Once the bandages were applied, the wounds cleaned, Celena bade them to take Allen upstairs to his chamber bed. Gaddes and the other soldier settled him gently into the soft mattress filled with down, his long body sinking comfortably and his head propped upon equally soft pillows. There he rested until the following morning.
Celena had not let any maid touch her brother's precious uniform, and set to cleaning it herself in their manor's laundry room. Gaddes and the other soldier, whom she discovered was called Jasil, were staying to keep an eye on things about the manor while their commander rested. Jasil was called away to the city later that day, but Gaddes stubbornly stayed behind. Celena was hard at work, taking the blue leather of the Caeli uniform and scrubbing at the stains with a hard brush.
Occasionally, her eyes would drift to the door of the little crackled room, peering through the hanging wet bed sheets, waiting for Gaddes to tell her that her brother was awake so that she could tend to him. Her hands were wrinkled and sore from cleaning, and she could have used Allen's waking as an excuse to break for the day.
It was late afternoon when Gaddes shuffled out, looking exhausted beyond belief, but relieved. "He's semi-awake. He can understand us, but he won't be much for fancy words, I'm afraid." Even still, the hint of a grin on his lips revealed that he had high hopes for the commander.
Allen had tried to sit up, but Gaddes had gently forced him back down. Allen was grateful. It hurt to move, his entire body ached from stress and healing. He's panicked at first when he couldn't see, but Gaddes reassured him that he'd be fine, that it was just bandages, that he was healing. The blonde seemed satisfied with the answer. Stretched out on the spacious bed, with Gaddes off to let Celena know of his awakening, Allen was left alone to ponder.
They hadn't stood a chance. Against an angry mob like that, even the most refined and disciplined group would have failed. They had failed. But the king and his daughters were safe, in the end, for now, and that was what mattered.
It had been horrifying. Men and women he had fought to save, faces he knew well... scrunched up in anger and hunger, bearing down upon him like some ravenous beast. They were such. Ravenous beasts, starving, hungry and fed up with being treated like rabble. He'd heard one say he should have known better.
Damn it... he should have. He saw them as they wasted away and he could do nothing.
Upon hearing the news, Celena, of course, dropped everything and bounded up their old manor's stairs, her footsteps making a racket on their hardwood floors. She flew to Allen's side and there sat on his bed, gently, to take his searching hand and put it to her face.
"Dear Allen." she said tearfully, "Tell me how you're feeling. Are you still in pain, my brother?"
Allen turned his bandaged head towards his sister's approach, hearing the door softly shut as Gaddes left them to their own. The blonde managed a weak little smile, still tired. "Now that you are near? Never."
A lie, but how could he tell her that his body and soul ached with pains he had not known before?
Tenderly, she kissed his hand, smiling under his fingertips so that he would know how happy he made her. It filled her heart with an odd sort of joy that she would be able to care for him this way, and hope still held a spot in her love for him that he would get well soon.
"I am glad," she said. She stood again and reached behind his head. "I'll need to change these bandages and put fresh ones on. Okay?" Even as she spoke, she'd begun to unravel the linen that bound his eyes. "The light is low in here, so it shouldn't be too bad for you. The damaged seemed superficial." The old bandages removed, she walked over to a drawer that held more freshly torn linen for the injured knight.
"You are too kind to me, Celena," he murmured, lifting his head in the slightest to give her an easier time changing the bandages. Whether or not the light was low, he could not see it, and once more he had to quell the panic that rose in a flourish.
They will heal and I will be fine. I must be patient, is all.
His wounds would not heal quickly he knew, if only from reference back to his earlier injuries, and from the feel of them. The burn of pain shivered through his nerves when he shifted and he was forced to bite back a hiss of pain. No, it would not do good to worry her more than she already was.
For several days after that, she had come to his every pain and ache to soothe them and give him comfort. Tenderly, she cared for his wounds, relieved that his side was scabbing and not deep. It seemed the worst he had come out with was overwhelming exhaustion and shock. That is - aside from the injury he'd sustained to his eyes. The gashes around them we closing and did not bleed any longer.
It was two weeks that Celena had decided to take off the bandages around his fair head. She was, of course, filled with hope, unaware that he lied whenever she asked him if his sight was any better for that day.
"How is it today?" she asked gently of him, removing the last of the bandages. She was loathe to admit that she would never be a good healer, and grew frustrated when there was no healer to be found in their failing city.
He was lucky that the wounds were not as deep as had originally been thought. However, he did confide in Gaddes... his sight was not healing. But Gaddes refused to admit that it wouldn't heal. The commander was untouchable , right?
"Better," he murmured. While still weak, he was getting stronger. Soon enough he'd force himself to be on his feet again. Allen closed his eyes and felt for Celena's hand, clasping it lightly. "with many thanks to you, Celena."
She brought her hand up to her lips in contemplation, holding his hand and gazing at him as he lay before her in his night clothes. Something came over and she had to force her hand away from his touch. Walking to the door, she said over her shoulder, her tone careful, "Follow me to the bathing room then, brother, so that we may wash that beautiful hair of yours."
A test, then. Allen was up for the challenge and could only hope that his legs would hold under him. The blonde stood shakily, flashes of dizziness passing over him. Luckily, he knew his home well. One hand held out from his side slightly to brush against the wall, to lead him as he walked. He could feel the burn of muscles unused for weeks as they hurried to keep him moving and it was a reassurance. He most certainly wouldn't die, at least.
But she had to know, now. He couldn't hide it from her this way. Not if he had to use the wall for guidance. It was a subtle thing, however, and could be passed off as being weak, but he wasn't sure she'd buy that. She wasn't stupid, after all. But even still, he took the chance, if only to keep up the ruse so she would worry less.
"You side still pains you," she said soothingly, but she did not move from the doorway. If anything, Celena moved further in the hall, still thinking and calculating. She watched him with grim determination and noted with a heavy heart that he did not open his eyes, those cornflower orbs of which he claimed have been healed in those two weeks they'd spent behind bandages.
"Slightly. Though more so the ache from ne'er moving these past few weeks." And his heart. His heart ached, figuring out that he was blind, if only for a little while. But they had no healer to ease him, no one to tell them how long it would take. Gaddes was no medical expert and neither were the others that saw him. His head slightly bowed as he walked, determined to get past this handicap, one hand braced against the wall as moved towards her. Passing through the doorway, he was relieved.
He had moved this far, he could go the rest of the way, surely.
"Then open your healed eyes, brother," she finally said blatantly to him, "and see the happiness you bring me." Celena waited patiently, watching her brother, and smiled for him. Her eyes were filled with worry, and her heart clenched as truth slowly began to etch into it like a cruel artistic rendition of the pains of man. Even so, she would think to herself, they would not let this beat them.
She stood solidly in the hallway, her brother standing unsteadily next to her in his night robe. Could he hear her heart beat furiously in her chest, she wondered. Or feel it breaking as she witnessed his struggle?
She knew. That was the first big hint of how much she'd known. But for how long, he couldn't tell. Shattered eyes opened, unseeing, turning his head towards her voice. A struggle indeed. Her knowing was as if he finally admitting it to himself. At least for now, this was a battle he could not win.
He almost fell right there in agony. How could this happen? How, after all he had been through, could he be beaten by such a thing? Anger at himself surged to the surface. If he had paid more attention, surely he would be safe and his sister would not be burdened with this pain.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, bowing his head, leaning against the wall. Sorry for lying to her, sorry for causing her this pain in the first place. She didn't deserve this, not after everything.
Celena nearly fell against him, her smile gone, her brows furrowed with worry. Her hands cupped his face and she bore her gaze deeply into his eyes.
"You can't see," she concluded breathlessly, "All this time you . . . Allen, you truly cannot see me?" But she knew that her one last shred of hope had been lost with his soft apology, with his slumped posture, with his expression of resignation and shame.
Allen miserably pulled his face out of her grasp, turning his sightless gaze elsewhere. He said nothing, leaning against the wall, his shoulders slumped. He had been defeated. That was all that mattered for the moment. He had been defeated and he hadn't been able to admit it until now.
The blonde slid down the wall until he was sitting, bowing his head into his shaking hands. He couldn't see... gods, he had committed sinful acts before, but was any of it enough for this? What had he done to deserve it?
Celena only had a heart to comfort her brother. She ignored the tears that slid down her porcelain cheeks, and knelt by her fallen Allen. Her hands reached out to stroke his dampened golden tendrils, but they wanted to bring him to her bosom and hold him tights - as if by holding him, it would bring back that most precious thing of which he'd lost. It was still too soon to believe. She had hope in her heart that it would be just temporary.
But two weeks is a long time, her heart cried to her, a long time for something so horrible. And who knew but a healer on how long this handicap would plague him.
"Allen, it's okay," she found herself soothing him, her silver voice betrayed by the clench of tears, "We'll find you a healer. It will come back. You'll see again, brother. You'll see . . ."
Allen shivered slightly, bowing his head against her. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He couldn't let himself. Allen shook his head, his shoulder's quivering slightly.
"I can't... I can't see... I won't.... I won't ever, will I?"
"No!" she insisted, "That's not true. It will just take time." She tried to bring him up to his feet, taking his clammy hands into hers and gently pulling him. "Please, Allen. You need to bathe. I will help you."
Allen's shoulders were slumped, but the fight had left him for now and he didn't argue, walking along with her, guided by her. He was glad he had her there... he wouldn't have been able to do all this on his own.
The moment came to undress him, and even Celena's face burned with a heated blush as the last of Allen's robes slipped off down his shoulders. The look on his face told her that he, too, was embarrassed, but there was not much to be done. She fiercely tried to avert her eyes from the parts the most definitely made him a man.
The bath had already been drawn, warm water filled in a small wooden tub behind a decorative screen. Allen was so tall, that his legs were drawn up nearly to his chest as he sat in the water. Celena took a sponge and gently bathed him, talking to him softly so that she may calm his fears. He wouldn't admit it, she knew, but Celena could tell that her brother was scared of what he might face in his darkness.
"You wound, on your side, is closing up nicely." she said to him softly, "Soon we will bring a healer to you, and they will tell us of your condition. Have no fear, I'll be by your side to help you."
"I can only hope that... that I'll be alright," he murmured softly, just the faintest tremble in his voice. "That... that I'll be able to see." Allen shivered slightly, pushing his embarrassment away. "I want to be able to see your face again. After so long of not seeing you..."
"Hush now," she said softly. Her tone was so grown up, like her brother's. Both Schezar children were young, Allen was only 23. Celena herself was barely 18. It took a certain amount of suffering to make one act so wise and reserved. Although sometimes, too much pain felt constricting.
"Tell me of the riot - the people. Is there anything being done about this injustice to them?"
"The king... he won't listen to us. We have spoken to him on such matter, but he will do nothing. He neglects his duties. We attribute it to the illness, but we would say nothing." Allen shook his head slightly, sighing a bit.
"Perhaps he will die soon," said Celena bitterly, "It is a small price for what he has done to the people, to his knights . . . to you, whom has served mostly loyally of all."
"Celena... he has shown me kindness... I... I cannot question his means of doing things. I am simply a soldier, in the end, nothing more."
"Kindness?" She was angry suddenly, though she tried to retain the animosity she felt welling up inside of her. "There is no kindness in this. You are more than a simple soldier. You are Knight Caeli, one of only twelve in the royal regiment. By the gods, you are my brother first! I would be damned if I could not protect you from harm, though a soldier you may be. I love you more than they!"
Allen sighed softly. "I thank you for your words, Celena... I... I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again. You should be given more than what I can give you, and I'm sorry that I cannot give you what you deserve..."
The Schezar siblings spoke nothing more of the matter for the rest of the day. Once bathed and dressed simply in clean trousers and a loose shirt, Allen took to his chambers to rest. Celena, of course, hardly left his side, finding solace in reading to him or telling him about her days spent with herself. She really only left him to fetch him a meal. Oh, how her fragile heart broke when he needed to feel around the tray just to find a biscuit. Or how he knocked over the glass of sweet fruit juice as his hands fumbled.
He was a proud, respectable warrior - one of the best swordsman in all of Gaea. Now, Allen was reduced to being helpless and frail, and full of deep weary sorrow.