Chapter 12 : Inner Conflicts

Solemn eyes gazed in astonishment at the raging fire, rapidly deluging the sturdy walls of the castle, reducing them into blackish shambles. Celena Galbaradiana Schezar stood erect in her post, fearlessly watching Ispanian Guymelefs rampaging their way inch by inch into Fanelia's defences, tumultuously demolishing every Fanelian Guymelef in sight. Travelling along the abandoned corridor of the Castle's North Wing unhurriedly, she felt no need to seek immediate protection.

Her maids had long ago deserted her for safety when she stood her ground to find her brother first. She had been adamant about her decision in spite of her maids' desperate measure in persuading her to pursue her own safety. At the end she forced them to choose between two options, being tired of the constant whining of her maids.

They chose to flee, eventually.

She was glad in a way. Without the skittish ladies around her, she possessed total control of her own. She was able to focus on her own safety without the responsibility of keeping her maids out of harm's way.  

Their loyalties lay elsewhere, nevertheless. She didn't comprehend the real reason why they would work under her service, but one thing was sure. The Queen ordered them to.

And then there was the dark secret of her past. She was unable to recall it completely, but she understood a part of her that did not really belong to Celena Schezar. Something, lurking in the dark corner of her mind, tried to break free the mental barrier her conscience had erected, its voice calling her, lulling her, coaxing her to return and to set it free from its prisoner.

A shiver travelled down her spine. She realised she wouldn't live to see next day if she freed the other conscience. It would eat her, engulfing her, and sending her down to its former confinement. And it would replace her to rule her mind and body. The feel of its presence coursing through her vein alone was enough to send her body shaking in trepidation.

It was like the feeling she had at this instant. Her senses tingled at the first honks of the war fanfares, its sensation sending electrical sparks to her end-nerves, white hot stars dancing blithely in her head. It felt like an old sensation, felt like something had been revived in her. The war simply presented familiarity to her; the scenes stimulated the old and forbidden memories, long buried, but now spinning together in a whirlwind of confusing excitement.

Smell of blood and burning materials stirred raw reactions she never dreamt she was capable of projecting. This time she released the other conscience, knowing the certain something was her only guidance to enhance her basic instincts of survival. Her brilliant pale blue eyes shone warily as she threaded her path across the war zone, her quick instinct guiding her in search for a safer route to the Queen's chamber in the East Wing. Her brother should be there, fighting along with Fanelian soldiers. And he might not have a chance to reach Schezarade. If her suspicion was right, her brother might be in great danger. He could be even crushed beneath some Ispanian Guymelefs at the moment.

Calmly Celena eyed the scene before her eyes, her countenance cold and staunch. Some dead bodies littered the path to the East Corridor, their blood smearing the cold alabaster stone floor. A tiny sob escaping her lips, she hardened her heart as the urge to weep assaulted her, realising that crying would bring her no resolution.

But she was also astounded by the reaction of the other half of her. It was unnerved by the display, feeling downright nothing except for a little amount of annoyance. Sighing profoundly, she scanned her surrounding as she crouched warily beside a body of a woman, a court lady perhaps, and pressed two fingers to feel the pulse on her neck.

Nothing.

The woman was already dead. And perhaps it was also the same with the others.

A weak childlike moan snapped her out of her reverie as she caught something trying to wiggle out of the mass of the dead woman's body. Her pale blue eyes enlarged in astonishment as she witnessed tiny hand of a child, flailing from under the heavy burden, unconsciously reaching out for her.

Without words she pushed the dead body aside, subconsciously holding her breath, forcefully dragging the dead body aside and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor once the child was free. Panting heavily, she dabbed her sleeve in her forehead, her face flushing. Taking a deep breath, she narrowed her eyes as she scrutinised the child before her, laying uncomfortably on the floor, his breath ragged and shallow.

A boy.       

His body was tiny, possibly no more that five years old. A shock of reddish mane adorned the crown of his head, neatly trimmed, although it was now matted with sweat and blood. Probably the blood of the woman.

His face was red from the lack of air, and as he opened his saucer eyes, they were crystal blue, as blue and as deep as the ocean. They are magnificent, the depth of them capturing her soul the moment their eyes met. The boy was beautiful.

Carefully she gathered the child into her arms, wrapping her shawl protectively around the tiny shoulders. The boy was unusually quiet, but it was only natural. Shock must have preoccupied his mind, and he must have realised that his mother, or whoever the woman was to him, had died.

"Come," she whispered in the boy's ears as another fire blazed near the spot of their existence, her fingers closing over the tiny hand as she guided him pass the instant graveyard. The boy nodded at her in apprehension, having nowhere to go and noone to turn to.

A gush of fervent wind perturbed her balance as she tried to reach the safety of the East Wing's walls, and the force threw both of them to the ground. Celena gasped and circled her arms tightly around the boy's little form, shielding him from harm at her best. No matter what happened, she would protect the little boy's life, even if she had to pay it with her own soul.

A giant black Guymelef stood before her, its metal surface shining as it reflected the afternoon sun.  A crest of Ispanian royal family adorned the cloak that it wore, impressive power radiated from the tall machine, awing her to the end. A sword gracing its left hand, the tip was sharp and deadly, and the base was decorated with intricate details of ornaments. It was staring at her with its red eyes, peeling her mental barriers one by one, and exposing her to the world to see. Its demeanour resembled that of a wild animal, measuring its victim first before devouring the weaker creature.

Tightening her hold on the boy, Celena glared back at the giant Guymelef, her expression unwavering. Valiantly she stood her ground, refusing to admit her defeat, refusing the fact that she had failed in guarding her own soul. Death would become her sooner than she had expected. But then again, death always came and went unexpected in wars, so she shouldn't be too surprise.

She would die like a warrior, even if she were a woman. She would not scream even the slightest bit, and she would not cry out her brother's name. She would die proudly as a part of Schezar Family, the biggest war clan in Asturia Sovereignty. Like her brother, although she never swore an oath of honour and valour, she would never yield, believing it was a Schezar's fate to die in glory, not in cowardice.

Waiting and waiting she was, but the blow never came. Frowning, she bent down and whispered to the boy, ordering him to hide behind the walls. Slowly she proceeded to approach the Guymelef, her long gown scraping against the floor as she advanced leisurely, even though impatience clearly shone through her eyes. Not even once the beast removed its horrid eyes from her lithe frame as she was nearing. Its stance solid, the giant guymelef let her run her fingers on the substantial surface of the metal plates.

Immense and Diminutive.

Gigantic and Petite.

Minutes passed as they stared into each other's eyes, plainly ignoring the commotion in their surroundings. A smile touched Celena's full lips as she fell a step backward, measuring the Giant's contour with her sparkling aqua coloured eyes, glittering with curiosity and anticipation. Crazy as she might act, but she couldn't resist the feeling of fascination growing from the back of her mind. Grinning humourlessly, Celena twirled on her heels and settled on a deep curtsy, treating the massive Guymelef like a real human, a giant prince in disguise perhaps.

Her sandy blonde hair was in disarray as a gush of extraordinary strong wind once again coursing her way, but this time she was prepared. Clutching a tall pillar beside her, she glanced upwards, tiny feeling of disappointment seeping into her mind as she watched the enormous beast departed, secretly wishing she were given a chance to discover the face of the owner of the Guymelef.

Or…was it the Guymelef itself fascinated her? She remembered how her blood had boiled when she first saw the beast. An old longing surfaced, together with a strong feeling of hatred.

But it was not important for the time being.

She had to survive.

At least to see the black Guymelef again.

Banishing the disturbing thoughts to the back of her mind, she reached the little boy's hand, and together they coursed the path of safety.

Her breathing ragged, Ardine almost lost her balance as she rushed to the metal-rimmed window of her chamber and clutched the silky material of the curtain. Her knuckles white as she tightened her grips on the hard edge of the huge window, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the heat of the skirmish before her, seething in anger as she recognised a few evidence of her own country's impulsive decision.

Ispanian banners!

Ispanian Guymelefs!

She wondered what was currently going on. War? That was most likely. But she didn't send any messenger back to her father, realising too well the consequence of her action. She might hate King Van with a vengeance, but she never once wished to provoke a war, any war.

Her last experience with war was more than enough for her. It was terrifying, and she had no wish to repeat the history all over again. Whoever had sent a message to her father without her consent must have been an impudent soul, and she would gladly behead the person herself in the near future. Not even one of her men dared to defy her orders, or to act without her guidance. One wrong move, and they would lay dead at the tip of her scimitar.

Or may be…

Ardine smirked at the speculation. Tossing her midnight black hair with a flair, she sighed heavily and diverted her crystal blue eyes to the direction of the East Wing of Fanelia Castle, to the section where the royal family resided, her lips thinned in deep contemplation as she scrutinized the blazing fire ambushing the part of the castle; the scorching inferno had yet demolished another wall. The reflection of the fire dancing in her eyes, her expression was stoic and haughty, revealing nothing but satisfaction.

She had never seen Van again after her last and very reluctant encounter in his royal wedding to the Hitomi woman from the wretched Phantom Moon, but she was certain Van was the one notifying Ispano about his rejection to marry her as his queen. And defend their princess' honour they must. For an Ispanian, nothing was more of a humiliation than having his pride insulted. And having their crown princess degraded below measure was more than a simple insult. 

Van was digging Fanelia's and his own grave by telling her King father about his rejection. Ispano would destroy what was his to protect and to rule.

A low sound of laughter rumbling in her throat, Ardine lowered the curtain and retreated behind the shadow of her chamber. Whirling around, she threw her head back and let out a mirthless laughter, her body shuddering and trembling as the sound of her own laughter penetrating her ears, fraught and hollow to the very core of her heart. Strange, she supposed to feel grateful to have the entire troops of Ispanian army defending her pride, but instead she was inwardly embittered by the act of war. She felt hopelessly like an inane and unworthy woman instead of a graceful and intelligent young princess she always prided herself to be.

"Princess?" a voice snapped her out of her musings, forcing her to focus her mind back to her current situation, " What do we suppose to do, now?"

Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, the young princess eyed the subjects before her, two women; each was about her age. Both have midnight black hair and bronze skin just like hers, and both wore warriors' armours despite their obvious gender. Shining scimitars fastened on their waists, they knelt low before Ardine's feet, their eyes venturing nothing beyond the level of the princess' dainty silk slippers. Grim lines determined their expressions, but none of them betrayed fears. Worries were shining through their eyes, though as they were totally concerned by the princess' safety. They were both beautiful in a rough kind of way, unlike Ardine whose beauty relied more on her soft features and sparkling blue eyes.

"Alia. Midia." 

Ardine approached two of the most loyal guards placed by her side ever since she was a little girl and smiled grimly at them. They had been two of the closest companions she ever had apart of her own dear twin brother, and they always stayed by her side, even back when the Great Gaean War was still raging. Their dedication to their duty was unquestionable, and she was sure they would sacrifice their lives when she ordered them to do so. For them, their vow to protect the princess was a blood-sealed pact in its own right. They would do anything to keep their princess out of harm's way.

"The army's approaching, My Lady. We have no time to lose," Alia, the gentler one of the two, risked herself to meet her mistress's eyes, moistening her full lips nervously as she noticed Ardine arched her fine eyebrows reproachfully at her boldness. She was not afraid of Ardine herself, and she fully knew her mistress would never think of death punishment, unlike some other aristocrats her other colleagues happened to serve. However, knowing her nature, a small discontentment could mean a whole lot of less cooperative attitude. Alia didn't want that at the moment. Bringing her mistress to a safe place was her main objective for the time being, and she hated dealing with any useless coaxing.

"Yes, My Lady." Alia almost sighed in relief when she heard Midia tentatively helped her, "They would destroy this place in no time and have you killed."

"But they're Ispanian army." Ardine reasoned stubbornly, one hand rested on the windowsill as her gaze travelled outside once again, curving her lips as she watched the fire cackling and sizzling. "And they're going to destroy Fanelia. I'd love to watch them,"

A pause, and a reluctant response, "Mistress, forgive me for defying your opinion, but allow my low self to forward my low opinion," Alia paused for awhile, watching the still back of Ardine, to wait for her reaction, but she continued as she noticed nothing, "but there is something suspicious going on here."

"My Lady," Midia eyed Ardine's back in desperation as she assisted Alia to persuade Ardine to flee the castle, "First, there is no notification from Ispano whatsoever…"

"Enough!" an ear splitting bellow echoed throughout the room, causing the two women winced in astonishment, their ears ringing. The next thing they heard was enough to make their hearts leap in joy. "We're getting out of here,"

Alia and Midia didn't know what made their mistress changed her mind so quickly, but for the time being, they satisfied their curiosity knowing their mistress must have seen the reasons behind their words. She was never one for doing something in impulse. Every movement she made bore her perfection of planning and accuracy of execution. She was never one to act based on harsh thinking.

"Bring out my armour and my scimitar! I shall…"

Ardine didn't have time to finish her sentence when the door was suddenly jarred open forcefully.             

Blood drenched his leather-gloved hand as he once again shoved the gory metal of his sword into the body of his enemy with deadly accuracy, his eyes swarming with dizziness as he felt warm blood spurted on his lean handsome face, filling his lungs with nauseating stench, ready to vomit his whole guts.

Kill! Kill! Kill he must!

Survive, in order to meet his beautiful wife in one piece.

He had to look for her, look for her.

But wherever his eyes roamed, never once his eyes met the gentle azure orbs gracing his queen's gentle expression, never once he saw her pale and slender yet strong frame. She had to be alive somewhere, protected by the guards, but he started to doubt his own persistence of mind after he witnessed such disaster caused by the assaults. He managed to escape the congregation room unscathed, except for a few scratches and bruises, but as he eyed the horde of Ispanian soldiers and their Guymelefs, he started to sense a sinking feeling at the bottom pit of his stomach. Stomping their giant feet around, they managed to demolish the castle's walls, one by one.

Familiar scenes of war swarmed before him, anywhere, everywhere. Guymelef fought against guymelef, soldier against soldier. They killed each other, creating a havoc of a hell. Fanelia castle was nothing like the paradise he had managed to restore in the recent years but piles and rubbles, filled with cries of death of its occupants. He wondered how long the city would last until it was completely flattened to the ground. A day? Perhaps much more less than that. Fanelia's situation was like that of a baby. Utterly defenceless and unprepared.

Inwardly, he started to regret his decision to inform the King of Ispano about his rejection to the marriage proposal, but he steeled his heart and resolved in the thought that he was doing it for best. Solution to his dilemma would not come by hiding and running from it.

Van cried in anguish as a shiny object slashed his cheek, groaning in anger as he slashed back at the Ispanian soldier unmercifully, sentencing death upon his soul. "Filthy barbarian," he growled, wiping the warm oozing blood on his cheek, gritting his teeth in anger as he saw the blood smearing his gloved hand; the sting was nothing but a numbing sensation, so unimportant he didn't even feel it.

A vision of Hitomi's blood sodden form entered his mind, making his eyes widened in the briefest of moment. His Hitomi was strong, nothing could ever harm her, he told himself, trying to calm his beating heart. And her luck. She possessed a hell of a lot of luck, and she almost always emerged out of a war unscathed. Surely she still possessed that kind of luck in her, didn't she?

But as Van stared at the blood in his hands, he realised anything could happen to his precious queen, even as he stood there motionless, doing nothing but observing the blurry scene of smoke and fire. Glancing around, he comprehended the fact that looking for a Hitomi among so many people was like looking for a needle among a haystack. He had to think of something very quickly.

Feel. He had to feel her presence. Quick, where was she? Was she near, or far? Connect. Connect to her mind. To her existence. To her source of heat. Her warmth. Her heart.

Her soul.

Closing his eyes warily, Van readied his sword before him, relying completely on his senses as he inched forward, slashing his sword and eliminated his opponents one by one in the process. Any single mistake could mean his death, but of course, he was confident he was able to cheat death yet again. He was not ready to face death. Not after the happy reunion with his lovely wife. Instead, he attempted to recall any teaching Hitomi had taught him during the last Gaean War about intuition reliance. He had managed to capture the core of the philosophy then, why not this time? The method had saved his life countless times. And perhaps, it could help him find Hitomi.

He sensed her, eventually. And she was near. Somewhere. She was also looking for him; he could feel that, although he was not sure about her whereabouts himself.

He gasped when he crashed his shoulder into someone, his eyes flying open as he whirled around to face his would-be enemy. However, as red orbs met greenish blue ones, the tension in his face melted into a relieved smile.

"Van. Thank God you're alive."

"Hitomi," he breathed out the name as he held her close to his body, burying his nose in her mass of strewn sandy blonde hair, inhaling the familiar sweet scent of hers. Her face was ashen, and she seemed about to collapse anytime. He wondered what had happened to her. He frowned as he sensed her flinched in his arms and noticed a bloodied bandage around the back of her shoulder. With frantic realisation, he tilted her face up and scrutinised her eyes with a knowing look. She had been injured somewhere along the course of the battle. And now the wound was reopened because of some excessive movements.

Van eyed his wife's blood smearing his hand in disgust, his ruby eyes shining dangerously. Whoever insane enough to start this war deserved to be painfully executed. The only thought of how much pain Hitomi had to endure alone raged his mind, boiling his blood in silent contempt.

A soft and gentle touch brought him back from his silent condemnation and he couldn't help but fascinated by the sparks of courage radiating in Hitomi's eyes. In her determination, he could almost feel that she could actually read his mind, and what he witnessed at the moment was actually her tacit disagreement to his unspoken aspiration.

Nodding in understanding, Van embraced her shoulders carefully and guided her to a relatively safe spot, relieving themselves momentarily from the excitement of war. Carefully he helped her rest on the floor and knelt beside her himself, inspecting the opened wound on her shoulder. It was deep, but thankfully someone was sensible enough to bind it to prevent further bleeding. He wondered who was the person who helped his wife. One of the guard, perhaps?

"It was Allen. Allen Schezar," Hitomi's blunt confession mildly baffled him, not because of her ability to answer his speculation without him actually voicing his thought, but because of the name of Allen Schezar being mentioned.

"Allen Schezar? He was in our room?" raising his eyebrows, he pressed her mildly while he was attending her wound at the same time, hoping to squeeze more details of the incident. Childish it might sound, but he always had a strange feeling heaving the pit of his stomach whenever he heard the name of his former rival. He didn't hate the older man, but he also understood one fact: he could never be Allen Schezar's friend, no matter how the situation demanded them to. Comrades-at-arms were possible, but friends? He had to think twice. He had never been comfortable around the other man.

"Yes…"

Van winced inwardly as the answer came out with a sucking of breath, his features concerned as he noticed pain cloud Hitomi's face when he tried to bandage the wound properly this time. She might not be able to use her arm in a few days to come. It had to remain still in order for it to heal properly. "He is…one of Millerna's royal guards anyway. The commander."

"Then perhaps I have to thank him." Van answered curtly, his expression unreadable as he straightened Hitomi gently and supported her with his arms. "Can you stand?"

Hitomi could feel Van's strong arms sneaking around her back and the back of her knees to bring her up with him, but she was not ready to go yet. Dizziness claimed her head as she laid a hand flatly against Van's chest; desperately she tried to fight down the feeling of nausea. No. She wasn't going to faint. By fainting she would only burden Van, and she knew perfectly well that the enemies would seize both of them easily should Van lose his focus. And she wouldn't have that. Both of them had to survive, at least for Fanelia. And if Van died here, her whole existence in this world would be without purpose, without meaning.

She was here because she had to save Van.

And yet, she knew that she might not be strong enough to save him. She possessed no military training, and she had lost a lot of blood. She had lost the agility she once possessed as a teenage girl.

"Hitomi, are you alright?"

Hitomi cursed inwardly as she clutched Van's red cape in her pale thin hands, steadying herself into an erect pose, trying not to lean her whole mass into Van's welcoming frame. She had to be strong.

"Yes, yes…I'm alright…" she whispered against the material of Van's polished armour, her teeth gritting as her wound constricted, sending a jolt of sharp pain along her nerves. She couldn't even focus her mind right. Strength. She needed strength. And quickly.

At least she had to make sure the Van existed before her was real. She had to make sure that Van was there, standing right before her, fine and uninjured.

Impulsively she leant forward and clung onto Van's neck desperately, planting a small kiss on her husband's lips, her heart rate doubled as she took a moment to savour the taste of his lips. She needed his touch to return her already escaping spirit. His warmth. It would return the strength of mind back in her. And she needed to feel his existence. Releasing his lips tantalisingly, her lips twitched grimly as she spotted the look of bewilderment he sported on his face, his mouth half opened as he tightened his grips on her arms.

"What is this all about, Hitomi?" He had questioned her incredulously, scandalised by her recent antique, "This is war, mind you. We have no time to frolic around,"

The truth was that she wanted to know the answer, but vigour flooded her mind the moment she ceased her impulsive behaviour. She now knew that Van was there beside her, not just in her imagination, but for real. He was the real flesh and blood. And he was safe, alive.

May be her vision was that of an exaggerated predicament.

"You…you're alive…you're real!" she whispered the words into his ears, her expression softened at the sight of his startled expression.

"Yes, I'm alive," Van growled impatiently, snatching her hands in his own, fuming as he witnessed a smile creeping onto her face, "You've said that earlier, remember?"

"But I thought it was only a dream."

Sighing, Van merely ignored the last bit of her protest and drew her near, taking her with him in long strides. He had to deliver her to a safe place as soon as possible. He couldn't afford wasting their time on some insensible conversation. Sentimental exchange simply did not become him, especially at the moment, when things had turned out to be dangerous and critical. He guessed the wound had dragged Hitomi into delirium stage. She might get a fever later.

Hitomi exhaled in relief as she snuggled closer into the security of her husband's sturdy frame, thanking God for protecting him from harm. Secretly she smiled, but the smile was soon wiped away as she began to notice even the slightest discomfort caused by the friction of her heavy material of her gown and the wound beneath it. Cold sweat stung her eyebrows as she whimpered softly, trying to get her steps steady as she dragged her feet heavily beside Van. She felt so warm all of sudden. The whole surface of her skin was burning feverishly, doubtlessly as a result of her injury. The wound was infected, she was sure.

She wasn't able to stand her ground anymore. It was all too much for her to bear. Her body couldn't accept the strain anymore. The scene before her twirled and danced, leaving her with a confining sensation. It came closer and closer, trapping her inside its circle. Her vision darkened, and soon she lost her ability to see. Choking, she knew precisely that she was a liability to Van at the moment, and she started to regret her decision to find him and not staying with Millerna and the others.

"Hitomi!" Van's voice thick with fear when he witnessed his wife tumbled down in semi unconscious state, her features even paler that it possibly could be. His heart beating against his ribcage, he lowered himself beside her and gathered her smaller frame in his arms, gently patting her cheek to return what was left from her diminishing awareness.

Hitomi willed her eyes to open as she heard Van's voice echoed from afar. She didn't want to trouble him, and yet she knew her stamina was deteriorating quickly. She was cold, so cold that she was actually shivering, even in the heat of the inferno. Sleeping was all she ever wished. But she knew she had to stay awake, at least until they reached safety.

And then it happened as she opened her eyes. She saw it clearly.

He was there, standing proudly just a few yards away, the orange reflection of the fire dancing wildly on his skin, gloriously bronze and shiny. His handsome features encased in a mask of fearless determination, his beautiful lips formed a slight smirk, golden eyes penetrating deeply into her sea green ones. She once saw him somewhere. In her dream.

Slowly he flexed his bow in front of him, aiming the arrow at their direction. And Hitomi knew what he aimed. Van was what he wanted. The fact itself was enough to wrench her from her delirium state, and as the arrow being released, she shoved Van aside as her own strength permitted her to, gasping for air as once again her wound constricted.

She turned horrified eyes to Van as she heard his cry of pain. Her heart almost leaped out of her chest when she witnessed an arrow protruding from her husband's shoulder, just a few inches from where his heart was located. She was not fast enough. If only she was not wounded, Van would make it unscathed. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the man cursed and then disappeared behind a wall, annoyance clearly shown in his expression. He was an Ispanian soldier, she could be sure by looking at his appearance. But now was hardly the time to be concerned by the identity of an unknown soldier. She had to check on Van quickly.

"Van, how is your wound?"

Grunting, Van held the tip of the feathered end of the arrow and broke it, omitting more groans of pain. His breathing hard, he motioned Hitomi to approach him, and approach him she did. Nodding at the look on Van's face, Hitomi circled to face his back, a frown appearing on her lovely face as she inspected the other protruding end of the arrow. It jutted only a few centimetres out of Van's wound, and it was dripping with fresh blood. She cringed at the thought of how much pain Van had to endure when she had to pull it, but she dismissed the thought and hardened her heart.

"Ready?" she asked him steadily. Van nodded silently as an answer, and then, grinding his teeth, he pushed the other end of the arrow inward, stifling the urge to cry out as the length of the stem scraping his raw flesh. Bracing herself, Hitomi pulled out the splinter, her fingers shaking slightly as Van's warm blood trickled down her hands, staining them crimson. She was not the type of women who was afraid to see blood, but the sight of Van's blood was enough to upset her.

Exhaling loudly, she almost forgot to breathe as she slumped beside Van, the bloodied arrow clutched tightly in her grip. She breathed deeply to calm the rapid beating of her heart, closing her eyes as relief washed over her. A smile played on her lips, she draped a hand over Van's shoulder. The blood was still flowing, but she could take care of that. Quickly she shredded some of the material of her gown and used it to bandage Van's wound. She raised her eyes to meet Van's ruby ones as his hand laid gently on top of hers, and smiled in return when she saw his lips bow in a tender smile.

"Thank you, Hitomi."

Shaking her head, Hitomi said nothing and proceeded to help him up to his feet, feeling a sudden urge to get out of that place quickly. Danger might come without warning, she told herself, and they were lucky that no Ispanian soldier seemed to notice their presence. Now that Van was injured, they had no choice but retreated into safety. There was no telling if the soldier was going to return and kill them on spot.

But as they stepped forward, a group of Ispanian Guymelefs surrounded them, circling them so they had no way to escape. Eyes widened in sudden fury and apprehension, Hitomi clung onto Van, her eyes blazing feverishly as she scanned the scene before her, noting the Guymelefs one by one.

Just before they escaped…

She stiffened when she felt Van's arms sneaking around her, desperately trying to obscure her from their view. Hitomi understood his agitation. He didn't want them to see her, and then to kill her. He wanted her to survive. But she also understood one thing. With a horde of Guymelefs surrounding them, their chance of survival was nil. They were going to die for sure.

A black Guymelef, apparently the leader of the group, stepped forward; its hatch opened slowly with a hiss. Hitomi followed the whole scene with wary eyes, slightly detaching herself from Van as she strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of the owner of the black Guymelef. She almost gasped at the sight of the figure.

It was the man who had injured Van with his arrow earlier. And she believed she witnessed open amusement in his eyes, the golden orbs glittering with glee as he observed them back as if scrutinising his victims. Tall, elegant. Regal in his golden armour. Long black hair, secured loosely on his back. Broad long sword, the luxury of precious stones encased on its surface. Full lips, always ready with a sneer. But what captured her eyes most was an insignia embroidered on his flaring blue cape. A crest of a firebird, wearing a crown on its head, spreading its wings as if it was going to soar in the sky.

A twitch of the lips of the stranger had brought tension and vigilance into both of her and Van's system, with Van tightening his hold on the base of his sword, hopelessly waiting for their enemies to snap their life threads.

Death might become them today, and yet they still hoped something miraculous would happen. And Van, being Van, never ceased clinging to one fragile hope instead of mourning his misfortune.

"Well, well, well…" Hitomi could feel Van's body became rigid as the stranger started to speak, his voice low and dangerous, "Amusing,"

When they failed to respond, the stranger simply continued, a chuckle escaped from his mouth, "The infamous love tale of Gaean legend, Van Slanzar de Fanel. I'm honoured, Your Majesties," he bowed mockingly, his cape flying behind him, "to have witnessed your undying devotion to each other. But unfortunately, I am the one who decide how the tale has to end,"

" Coward," Van snarled as he tightened his hold around Hitomi's shoulders, his eyes blazing in fury as he desperately fought the urge to attack the other man senseless. Being aware of Van's sudden change of aura, Hitomi squeezed his hand gently and cast him a warning look, silently telling him not to sacrifice his life for something that was trivial and unnecessary. The man before them was trying to coax their anger, so they would fall prey to do something suicidal and stupid. On the other hand, they had to stay alive…at least for as long as they could.

Squaring her shoulders, Hitomi braved herself and challenged the eyes of the bronze skinned man, unafraid by his display of mean demeanour. Their situation was hopeless, but still, she had some hope. And she hoped her decision would at least keep Van alive.

Hello, everyone! Here is the long awaited chapter 12. Celena made her major appearance here, and will continue to be one of the most important characters throughout the novel. Well…the scene of hers might sound/read familiar to you guys, and it might be a bit ordinary, due to how I have to explain Dilandau's existence in her. *Grin* But it's necessary. I'm planning something big for her. And I think the Escaflowne world without Dilandau is a whole lot less merrier. If I may say, I think Dilandau is one of the best essences of Escaflowne. But whether or not Dilandau will wipe out Celena's existence, that's only to be revealed later for sure. Anyway, I couldn't resist inserting Dilandau in my fic, because his existence is essentially too STRONG to ignore, although in what form he is going to appear is totally obscured at the moment.

Writing war scene is damn difficult, in my opinion! I'll give my utter respect and admiration for those who could get the scenes right and interesting, still tasteful without too much gory details. As I proceeded, I found myself wondering about the balance in the scenes (between romance, politics and wars, or even discussing the culture in my fiction), whether to display more details or not, or whether some details were enough to depict the war scenes. As I have stated in my earlier notes, I don't intend this novel to be some sort of a war novel, and I will be quite loyal to character development based plot. But…(sigh) I have to admit it IS necessary to write about the war.

Thanks for everyone's encouragement anyway! *Cheerful* I'm really surprised to receive positive responses from quite a lot of readers. You comments are totally my measure whether my work is already appropriate or not. I'm also glad to hear some comments about my previously written war scenes – they really boost my confidence a bit. I'm still hoping for more insights, though…hey, I'm a learning girl, anyway! Gotta strive for the best.

There would be some surprises in the next few chapters, judging from where the plot actually leads me, especially for Van and Hitomi. Some people actually emailed me that they were concerned that I might write about Van and Hitomi being separated in the end. To answer their concern, DON"T WORRY! ^_^ Uniting Van and Hitomi together IS the PURPOSE of this novel, and there's no way I will separate them once again. (After a hard work finding a reason for them to meet again? No way! Besides, if I make them separated once again, other Escaflowne fans MIGHT strangle me - .::heeeeellp!::.)

And who's the man at the end of this chapter? Can you guess it? This is where the actual circle of main characters completed, except for a few additional characters here and there (with minimal appearances, of course.)

I'm sorry for delivering this chapter late, as usual (hey…I see that saying sorry after I write a late chapter has become my habit lately…), but I'm a slow writer. I won't write unless I have the moods and the details right, because I hate to see a crappy chapter. Oh, and one more thing, I might have to rewrite chapter one in a completely different plot in order to straighten some awkward points in the story.  And perhaps chapter 2, too. There are some scenes that I still feel awkward.

I plan to open a gallery to house the illustrations I have made for this series, and you guys are welcomed if you want to contribute! Just email me with the illustrations! Scene illustration is highly appreciated. You can even depict your interpretation of what your favourite characters will look like after 8 years of separation according to what you read in my fic. Well, I'm just curious about how you will envision the characters in this * shudder * going-to-be-very-long novel. J

Yours truly,

Louise Tjandrasjahan

27th June 2000

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