Darkness in the Twilight
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By Psycho Ferret and LunarCrystal
The General's Son
Melzin worked tirelessly throughout those two days of hiding in the ravine. Basram armies were everywhere, apparently, and they couldn't risk getting shot down before they were able to reach the capital. The healer had only one job, and that's what he fussed over. Bringing with him a covered bowl of a poultice and new linen, he cleaned Gaddes' wounds again for the day before they soaked through the bandages.
He was awfully wary of the man's back, and they turned him over carefully once he'd finished the dressings. But being a clever healer, he prepared for the worst as well. Quietly, to took a pin from his lapel. Gaddes watched him. The covers from the sergeant's feet were pulled aside. Not a word was said, and it was odd, thought Gaddes, when Melzin fairly stabbed his big toe - and he felt nothing of it.
"Anything?" asked the healer, removing the pin and going to the next toe. Again, the prick looked painful. Gaddes took a deep breath and pursed his lips.
Allen watched warily, a brow arched. He didn't think that not having a reaction to such a thing was a good thing. In fact, he knew it wasn't. It made panic flare within him, but he stayed silently by Gaddes' side. No matter what happened, he'd be beside Gaddes, just as the other had been for him.
The healer looked grim. This sort of thing was not easily treated, and it was not easy to live with in their times. Bedridden at worst. His expression was a pronounced frown, but he covered Gaddes' feet nonetheless, coming to the man's bedside and checking for a fever. Thankfully, there wasn't one. "I'll ask ye to hold still." he said to him quietly, pushing back the covers on the man's front.
The pin was lightly pressed on Gaddes' chest, right in the middle. The sergeant started a bit at the prick, groaning a little but said nothing. This continued until the pin reached at about the man's belly button - a few inches above it. Melzin looked at Gaddes, but the sergeant shook his head.
"Tell me honestly," croaked the sergeant, "What'll happen - I mean, . . . " Ah, but even the sergeant began to get choked up. He was confused, and afraid. This sort of thing doesn't happen, just can't happen to him. "Shit. . . I'm *not* spending the rest of my life in a bed." he finally managed through his clenched jaw.
Melzin just continued to look displeased, "It's so difficult to say, lad. But I've seen cases like this - horse riding accidents, broken backs - it's not impossible that you could still walk out of this very ship. But it takes time. You have a friend -," he looked at Allen, who seemed to be getting horribly distraught, "whom I know will take good care of you. Just give it time, lad."
Allen bit down lightly on his bottom lip, curling his fingers in Gaddes' own. He was strong, Gaddes was... he'd get through it. He had to. Just the mere thought of Gaddes being unable to perform simple tasks hurt, burned. And so soon after they'd found so much comfort in one another, too. Allen stayed silent, if only to keep the tremble that would surely be in his voice from being known.
Gaddes could say nothing to the healer, couldn't even look at Allen, really. Melzin left them to their silence. The sergeant was already embarrassed - this sort of thing *doesn't* happen. How could it happen? Stray lead embedding into flesh rendering him so helpless, so vulnerable. He wrenched his hand free of his lover, trying to turn over on his side - his legs wouldn't respond, and so lay there flat while he buried his face in the pillow.
Allen looked at his lover, hurt. But he understood why he pulled away. He understood why Gaddes didn't want to be touched... but it hurt nonetheless. Was... this how Gaddes felt when Allen had drawn away from everyone? Was this the fright, the pain he had felt? If it was... he was even more sorry for causing it than he had been before. Allen sighed softly, bowing his head... but didn't leave his side.
~~
Ethan, meanwhile, had been horrified when he'd awoken next to his brother. How dare he? He tensed a bit, starting to draw away from his brother. He was... so dirty. He couldn't burden Chris like this. He couldn't...
The small frame trembled, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sob that rose.
Chris thought nothing bad, nothing negative of his brother - could never think such things. Poor Ethan was so lost and hurt and confused, Chris was almost at a loss himself for how to treat the situation. He only wanted to comfort him, to hold him close and sooth away his demons. But he didn't know what was going on with him, first. He needed to ask . . .
"What's wrong?" he whispered into Ethan's ear. "Why are you afraid of me?"
"Don't," he spoke softly, his voice trembling, not looking at his brother. He couldn't... "don't look at me..." Ethan curled up tightly, shying away from his brother. It hurt to think that he could be... so dirty. That he could soil his brother like that. He loved hsi brother so much it hurt. He'd wanted to be close to him, to stay close, pure for him... but now... but now he couldn't. Tears slipped over his cheeks, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Oh, my god, Ethan," he whispered, bringing his hand up and wiping away his brother's tears. Even as he did so, he moved to hold the boy close to him - no, not boy, man. Twenty seven years old is most definitely a man. "I could never think less of you, Ethan. My god, you're my brother for christ's sake. I don't care about anything or anyone more than I care about you. Please tell me you understand this . . ."
Ethan shuddered, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as soft sobs slipped forth. His body no longer ached, but within him...
"No... no, you c-can't..." The younger sibling buried his face in the other's shoulder, "dirty... a-and... I... I didn't want to, Chris... Not with them..."
"Hey," said the older man, affectionately combing his hands through his poor brother's hair, "Hey, shh - it's okay. I know you didn't want to. It's not your fault what they did. Not your fault at all. You are innocent in this, Ethan. You didn't deserve it, and I'm here to help you."
"I... I wanted to save it..." He murmured sobbingly against his brother's shoulder. "for... for someone else. Special..." Ethan bit back saying it, telling him who. It... would push Chris away, wouldn't it? Chris wasn't like that... he liked girls, anyway, even besides the fact that they were brothers.
Chris had no choice but to hold him, like he had been. He was worried for Ethan, he hurt for him. His brother had been maliciously used, and now he was reduced to a sobbing heap against his shoulder. He'd never been through anything like this. He didn't think he could ever describe how his heart was breaking at that moment - and how helpless he felt to spare his brother's feelings.
He leaned his head down gently upon Ethan's, and gave him a tender, warm kiss upon his temple and cheek before holding him closer still. "It's okay, Ethan. I'm here. I'm right here for you." he whispered to him.
"O-only you," he murmured, his eyes closed, fingers curling in the sheets toughly. He'd never been so hurt before. Ethan had always been more sensitive, more gentle... and then this. What would he do but cry over it? Only Chris.... he didn't add onto that, afraid to. What if he want to far...? He wanted Chris close, he wanted Chris to help him.
He did not stop giving his comfort, but at least now he was more aware. Only him - he was the special person in Ethan's heart. Chris honestly didn't know how to handle that news. He knew of his brother's sexual preference, and it didn't bother him. He himself had never been interested in same sex relations, but he certainly never looked down on it. However - one thing was certain.
His brother needed love. In its purest form, nothing should ever stand in the way of loving a person. The young man in his arms was so broken and lost - and Chris was not very different. His hand still stroked Ethan's auburn hair, soft as it was when it trailed passed his fingers. The demons needed to be soothed, and Ethan needed to be shown what love is. And Chris was the only one there to be able to do it.
Slowly, he pulled back just enough, bowing his head down. His hand, slightly rough though it might have been, from sword play and polishing, smoothed over Ethan's wet glistening cheek. His kiss rivaled any tenderness ever given to another, the softness and warmth of it filled with nothing but his love for Ethan. He loved Ethan, he knew. He always had loved him, as his brother. His poor brother - he needed this.
Ethan tensed slightly at first, his eyes flickering open at the brush of lips. But it was Chris there holding him, Chris kissing him, Chris giving his comfort. It took a moment for it to sink in, and when it did, the tenseness, the worry of the moment fluttered and burned away, replaced by the focus on his brother's closeness. Love. It was a word tossed around easily, lightly between people, but this was a heavy, pleasant weight that settled down upon him, one he was more than happy to bear.
He wasn't sure if it was a hint to what could be more, this kiss, but it didn't matter.
Chris was here with him and wouldn't leave him. Tears still lazily slipped over his pale cheeks as he lifted his head into the gentle, comforting kiss. Even if it never grew into something more than this, Ethan could be happy. Because he knew his brother cared.
~
Riden, who knew his place on the ship, knew his job, and therefore broke the rules anyway, ran and stopped right in the captains quarters. His expression was desperate, his mouth wide, brow furrowed in confusion and anger. "Boss! You have to come quick. That Basram soldier's about to get pummeled by the injured guys! I never seen 'em so riled up, boss! The princess is in there!"
Allen blinked, glancing up from where he sat, frowning. his first reaction was who cared?
But... if Angelina was there...
The blonde stood quickly, stalking towards him and past him, his face set grimly. The only way he could even think of allowing it was if Angelina wasn't there. He wouldn't have her experience those things done unto another. Especially one she, for whatever reason, liked so much. His paces was brisk and he shoved open the door to the infirmary, glancing quickly about.
Hans had been able to sit up with thanks to the healer and his help. But he still couldn't move very well. Especially not well enough to defend himself against these men. He could understand why they were upset, he didn't blame them for that at all.
Angelina had heard the men's complaints, their shouts to the Basram soldier. The anger in their voices, the loudness of them, had made her jump and seek shelter in Hans' comfort. Her face was pressed against the young soldier's chest. She could hear them - they were coming closer to take Hans away from her - to take *her* away from Hans . . .
She gripped her arms around Hans so tight, crying from her fear. They were just so angry!
"Get the princess," said one of them who was advancing on Hans, another on her to pry her away, "Don't hurt her. She shouldn't have to be at the mercy of this monster."
"All of you stop this!" Allen stalked towards them, narrowing his eyes. He could se the faint fear lingering in the Basram soldier's eyes and he could understand why it was there. He was alone in enemy territory, surrounded by men so angry, hurt by that man's army.
Allen didn't care of the man there, not really. But he could prove to be an asset if he held any significance to Basram. He looked almost like he could be a lord's son, after all.
Hans didn't try and hold Angelina close to him, even if she clung. He had no right here. She didn't know what he had done to these people, what he would have done had he not been injured so.
"You harbor an enemy!" said one soldier, who's eye was taken by stray flaque from a rifleman, his head and right eye thoroughly bandaged. He, nor did any other, care that they spoke to their superior officer in such a way. They were angry, embittered, and wanting revenge. "His army killed our comrades!"
"Their cannons took my arm!" yelled the one-armed soldier, hate burning in his wild eyes.
"My legs!" cried another, "They will not work!"
"And still you have the gall to take him in and care for him!" yelled the first who had spoken, with the missing eye. "There is no honor in this! He must die as our comrades have, wrench him from his own family and see how they might like to bear the news of *his* death! Even if it's hard to believe a monster could ever be so loved!"
"Father!" screamed the little girl, her voice desperate and wrought with fear in her shrill cry. "Hans! Not Hans! Don't let them hurt us!!"
Allen frowned darkly, holding up a hand. "Hush, all of you. It is indeed grievous that we have suffered so much under Basram's hands... but we cannot give up to our anger so quickly. What if this man holds some significance, no matter how unlikely it will be? We might yet have an advantage." And his daughter would be oh so distraught if anything happened to the pretty young man.
It was Hans who willingly offered the information, though he sought no allowances from it. He fully expected the penalties of his crimes against these people to be punished. "Meine vater," he began, then paused, shaking his head. "My father... the Basram general he is." The words sometimes were tripped over because of his light grasp on the unfamiliar language. Even if he was the general's son... he had no way of knowing if it would matter. His father had always been distrusting of him. No matter what he'd done, it had never been enough.
"He's a prince, Father," Angelina tried to explain, after Hans' declaration. Riden had been watching the whole scene in horror - hate was a very foreign thing to the happy little soldier. Even if he saw death and destruction, somehow he'd always managed to find something to be cheerful about. So the expression on his face was different indeed. He went to crouch beside the little girl, wary of the eyes on him.
The other wounded in the room snarled, but kept mostly quiet. It was the first one who spoke again. "If he's leverage, than at least take him from our sight - for those of us who still have it." Riden was already hushing the little princess, soothing her and taking her from her prince. He promised to move them into a different room, and so she remained calm for now.
"Boss, could you help move him to the quarters next door?" he asked of his commander, and he rarely asked anything of Allen. Slowly he stood, carefully holding the little angel in his arms, who immediately snuggled into his shoulder.
Allen was thankful for Riden, really. He, himself, wanted to jerk the Basram soldier about angrily. His men had died because of this man's army. his men suffered, his people...
But Riden's gentle actions made him force a calm down upon himself. The blonde sighed softly, helping Hans up carefully. He'd tell Melzin of it later so he wouldn't worry over the sudden disappearance of the soldier. Hans didn't thank them... he knew it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't bring back any of those who had been lost. His own stomach had lurched several times over after viewing the destruction that had been caused by the weapons he, himself had used. He ahd killed before...
He had killed these people.
Angelina was once again settled by Hans' side, in his own makeshift quarters upon an actual bed and not the hard floor. Riden could tell, just by looking at Allen's face, that his commander was loathe to give the enemy such comfort. But he still had his daughter to think about, after all. The small soldier gazed down at the little girl - her ringlets no longer prominent, and her curly hair was falling in wild waves of silver about her shoulders.
She was such a precious little thing. A silver princess, who only knew love. "You've raised an angel, boss." said Riden quietly.
"She's the only reason I haven't tossed him out of the ship," he murmured softly, honestly. There wasn't any point in denying his loathing of the man. "But if what he speaks is the truth and he is the general's son... then we might be able to barter. But we have to get to Palas first."
Allen sighed softly, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He was on edge anyway, thanks to the pain Gaddes was in.
"I'll start up the power, boss." said Riden quietly, leaving immediately to do his duty. He was a thief, the watch, in charge of the periscope - but there were so few of them left, he'd since acquired new duties.
~
Gaddes heard the propellers rumble to life, the power hum throughout the walls and floorboards. He looked around the room he was in, out the window where the daylight shone through. He still had his duty, he thought. He had to help - he couldn't just lay there. He was the navigator, Allen's right hand man. He was needed.
He threw back the covers, grunting and clenching his jaw. A mighty heave to the side and he fell to the floor, a cry tearing from his throat as his back was jarred, his legs refusing to work. He glared at the disobedient appendages, panting and trying to pull himself to stand. But he couldn't move. He cried out a curse to the ceiling, gripping the bed and pulling himself up - but he would not budge.
After Allen had watched Riden leave, he bit back the urge to punch the Basram soldier. He seemed so... forlorn, so morose, so... lost. He almost felt bad for the younger man. With a sigh, Allen turned, heading back into his room, where Gaddes lay.
Or rather... no longer lay. "Gaddes!? What are you doing?" The blonde started a bit, padding over to him, looping arms around the other's waist. Carefully, he heaved him up, worried. "Are you alright?"
He growled in pain, throwing his head back and wincing when he was lifted back to the bed. His legs still hung over the edge, but he didn't notice. Instead he pressed himself into the pillows, panting. "They need me - on the bridge." he managed.
Allen sighed softly, kissing the man's lips gently. "Gaddes, hush. We'll be fine... you just get better. That's all you need to do. Just get better..."
The sergeant's brow furrowed slightly, be he accepted the affection and returned it. Pulling back, he swallowed, lifting his head slightly to see if the rest of him had made it on the bed. With a pained sigh, he said, "Ah, shit . . . Allen, could you . . .?"
Allen smiled a little, shuffling the older man all the way onto the bed, once more leaning down and brushing his lips against Gaddes'. "I love you no matter what happens, okay? No matter how much either of us changes, I'll still love you..."
The older man quirked a tired, weak little grin. His eyes half closed, he reached behind Allen's head, combing his shaking fingers through the other man's hair. "Why do you think . . . I'm still hanging around?" he said, bringing Allen close to him and giving him a kiss that lingered. Their noses rubbed, but he didn't care. He kissed his lover for a long time before daring to pull away. He loved him, after all.
Allen smiled softly, looking at his lover, stroking his stubbly cheek. "I can't get over saying it," he murmured softly, bowing his head against the other man's shoulder. "It thrills me every time..."
Gaddes swallowed again, happy that Allen was so happy with him. His hand gently rest upon the knight's head, but his face was turned toward the coming dusk and the mountains as they glided passed. "I know," began the sergeant softly, "that I can never replace Celena. . ."
"There isn't replacing her... but there isn't replacing you, either, Gaddes. Both of you hold my heart..." Allen smiled, his voice purring just softly.
"I'm glad," Gaddes smiled back at him, turning away from the darkening window and gazing at him fondly. "I know it was hard losing her, but it pleases me to know that you have moved on, and not forgotten her either. I loved her too, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," he murmured, smiling. Allen nodded slightly, brushing his lips against the other's neck. "I think... she'd rather that I moved on, especially to you. I know... she trusted you so much... I think she'd be happy."
"I think so too, Allen," said Gaddes softly. He lifted his head, just slightly tilting it back to allow the kisses upon his neck. "You should go lead your men. You have a ship to run."
"Mm... just so long as you promise to stay right here, Gaddes. I don't want you hurting yourself all over again, alright?"
Gaddes let out a sigh, nodding slightly. "I'm alright. I'll just lay here - try to sleep, I guess." He gently nudged Allen back, looking into his eyes as his hand gingerly stroked the other man's cheek. "You need to take care of yourself and your daughter. Now go do your job. It's not like I'm going anywhere anyway."
Allen smiled softly, once more brushing his lips against his lover's, standing. "The boy, Hans... he's the general's son. We might just have a card in our hands that could turn the tide." Allen smiled brilliantly, turning and walking calmly out, far more calm than he had been before.
~
The Crusade flew to Palas on the strongest winds but with the lowest lifts - they did not get detected by any of the surrounding Basram air fleets, as the ravine through the mountains made good cover for the frigate. Riden and the remaining crew of the Crusade, save for Gaddes who was still on the captain's ship, followed their commander through the halls of the royals.
Millerna had been surprised by the news, as she'd been suffering from anxiety since she received word of the attacks on Forts Castelo and Montague in the north and north east. She was pleased, however, that they had that bargaining chip - Hans, the son of a great Basram general. Immediately, she sent off messengers to go in peace to the Basram armies to inform them of who they held prisoner.
This was four days ago. Schezar manor was used to harbor the few wounded from Fort Castelo, a safe house for them. The Crusade was tied down in the fields just beyond the front courtyard, and the crew helped both Icarus and Melzin to care for the wounded soldiers of the destroyed Fort Castelo. Hans was put in a room on the second floor. For a few moments, Angelina left him to explore the new place - but without adults to supervise her, she nearly fell down the stairs. Luckily, Oruto was the one that caught her and put her back to Hans' side since she wouldn't be anywhere else.
Gaddes was once again put to bed, in Allen's chambers, and there he had remained since. Dealing with embarrassment of being helpless was one thing - he couldn't do anything by himself. He felt horrible for being unable to get up and help his shipmates care for the numerous wounded soldiers from his fort. His own wounds were closing up enough. But he couldn't help them.
Allen, after Hans had healed enough to walk, for the most part, on his own, decided to bring him before Millerna. The uniform of the knight was gone, shredded and left back on Earth, arriving in foppish, swashbuckling attire, wire-rimmed glasses settled lightly on his nose. He could see...
An arm around the Basram soldier to support him, detesting him, Allen led him within the castle. The Basram soldier did not say anything to the heated glares or outcries from the people within the palace or within the city itself. He was humbled, and still injured. He understood that he had no right to complain, not here, not after he had killed so many.
Once he was thrown down before the Queen, Millerna couldn't help but swallow in nervousness. She has been Asturia's ruler for five years, and she still wasn't used to some of the responsibility. There were decidedly no courtiers present for this introduction to the Basram soldier, Millerna had made it clear that she did not want people fainting all over the place - or getting overwhelmed by anger.
"Your name, Basram." said Millerna sternly.
Allen stepped to the side, his head slightly bowed. Hans had shown no violence towards them yet... but faced with the queen, he wouldn't leave it to happen.
"Hans," he murmured softly, the wince in his voice as pain bloomed in his side at the rough treatment. "Hans Reichmann." Blonde hair slipped forward over his shoulders. (Just making sure)
"General Reichmann?" Millerna asked cautiously, peering at the young soldier with a downcast glare. "You are his son, yes?" She looked to Allen for confirmation, just in case the young soldier decided to hold his peace to the question.
Allen inclined his head slightly in agreement to her question. But it wasn't needed, really. "Ja, his... son." Asturian had not gotten much easier for him the time he had been with the soldiers. He never spoke much, after all.
Millerna stood up from her red upholstered gilded chair, not really her throne. Her dress had been simple since the attacks, for practicality. So her regal air was mostly found in the way she glided toward the knight, not necessarily in her gown. Her head was still lifted high, her expression firm.
"Allen, già avete trasmesso i messaggeri?" she asked in Asturian, wondering if the Basram soldier would understand her. (Allen, have you already sent the messengers?)
Hans could understand parts of it, but he showed no signs of it. The knight nodded slightly to the woman. "Ho. Un pochi giorni fa lasciano, ma non sono ritornati ancora. L'informerò quando fanno." (I have. A few days ago they left, but they have not yet returned. I will inform you when they do.)
Millerna nodded, thoughtful of some plans going through her head. She had grown up a lot since being crowned queen, it seemed, and it showed in her weary features. She didn't smile as often as she used to, but that was perhaps due to the ensuing war with Basram since she took the throne. For now, however, she simply stood, straight and tall.
"Take him to the dungeons. We'll hold him there until we receive word from the general." she said in a clipped tone to her guards. At once, two guards obeyed and began to drag Hans up by his arms.
Hans winced a bit again at the pull at his wound and he stumbled slightly, but he bit back the cry of pain that rose. He might have been humble before them, but he had a bit of pride nonetheless. Allen looked at the man as he was taken off, his eyes almost cold as he watched. That man... he and his men had killed people Allen knew so well... those man had injured Gaddes, quite possibly paralyzed him for life. And the gods would strike Allen down before he forgave him for that.
Millerna looked to Allen, not being able to bear the sight of the man being dragged away to her dungeons. She stepped up to the knight, trembling hands grasping his sleeves. Her eyes - they were so tense, her muscles were barely holding her up. This whole war was wearing down on her. She bore deep into Allen's gaze. "I need to speak to you," she said quickly.
Allen turned his eyes to her, bowing his head. "As you wish. I am here for you as I have always been, your highness." It was troubling to see her so... upset over this. Though he could understand why well enough.
Her hand still twisted into the fabric of his sleeve, she nearly dragged him to the side room, private council chambers. Upon closing the door, Millerna barely took a second to look at Allen before collapsing onto him. Her knees would not hold her any longer, but she could not show her weakness in front of her council or guards. But she could with Allen - she trusted him.
Allen blinked slightly, at first tensing. But... he put an arm around her, leading her gently over to a chair and helping her sit down. "What is it that troubles you so? There is more to it than simply this war. You are strong, Millerna..."
Even before she settled into the chair, her eyes closed, thick, wet tears seeped through her dark lashes and bitterly splashed onto her gown. Her grip on his hand was unrelenting, all her pain and sorrow in that hold, stressing and squeezing with the agony in her clenched heart. Her lip trembled, her head was bowed and her golden hair spilled to hide her face. She couldn't help but sob, her words barely discernable through the choked cries.
"Our losses - Jechia . . . we have lost so many," she sobbed, her body convulsing with them, "Oh, gods - so many . . ."
Allen sighed softly, holding her hand gently in his own gloved one. "We have... but we have learned the secret of their gunpowder, Millerna. We know their secret. Two boys from the Mystic Moon travel with me. We have their advantages."
"Sir Elden," she cried quietly, her tear-stricken eyes lifting to gaze at Allen again, drops spilling over and pouring down her fair blushed cheek. "He fought so bravely . . . "
Allen tensed, his eyes widening slightly. His fingers curled a little tighter around hers. Silence stayed for a few moments, besides her tearful breathing, and then he glanced away. They had promised aid to one another... but he had been sent off to the fort and could no longer keep that promise. "Honor," he murmured, shaken, "He died with honor, of course. How... how many of the knights are left...?"
His strength - she needed his strength now. So many lives - so many precious lives were lost. His hand was her connection to something solid, still living flesh. He was still willing to fight, and he yet breathed to defend his country. She looked away, her eyes screwed shut. Her head hurt and her eyes grew sore of shedding so many tears.
"Two." she whispered.
Allen could not hold back the soft gasp. Two... only two. Those men... he knew them so well, he had heard their welcoming calls when he and Sir Elden had returned. And by Jechia... only two remained. Pain bloomed in his heart and he turned his head away, biting back pained, sorrowful tears. The youngest still lived. But...
"I will fight for their honor," he murmured, almost to himself. A promise. He would fight, he would make sure they won this war, to put their souls at ease, to make sure that they did not die in vain.
It was then that Millerna stood, and wasted no time in embracing the knight. He was - her friend. After all the years of childish crushes, the time spent together, their adventures across the sea - he was one of her last remaining friends, and she gripped him, her arms tight as if she were holding onto the very thread of life - holding onto some kind of hope. Her cheek pressed against his narrow chest, the tears still slipped down her face, her eyebrows knitted from the pain in her heart.
"Please don't die - don't get yourself killed. You and Sir Laison are the only ones left. The only ones . . ." she whispered, her voice choking, "Gods, please. . . "
Allen put an arm around her, hugging her gently. "I will not die until they have been avenged and Asturia is safe, that much I promise you, Millerna." The blonde was amazed at how steady he'd kept his voice as he spoke, considering the tremble in his narrow frame.
"Where... where is he now?"
The queen sniffed pathetically, pulling back and wiping away at her cheek with a gloved hand, now soiled. "I have harbored him in some quarters here at the palace. He came from Fort Montague, injured, but alive."
Allen nodded slightly, an even harsher dislike for Hans and his people surfacing. The knight looked at her calmly, then embraced her in a hug. "Are you alright for now? I... I would like to see him."
Millerna was glad for his embraced, and gave him one in turn, full of care and tenderness. "Yes. I'll be fine. There's no one else to speak to about my troubles. And - you were always there when I needed someone to bend their ear. I could never repay you for all the kindness you've shown me, my dear friend."
"Nor I, you, of course. You gave me back a life I thought I was never destined to have again... and that is more than I could have ever hoped for." The knight brushed his lips against her cheek comfortingly, resting a hand on her shoulder for a moment before he turned, stalking quietly out.