***Some portions of dialogue have been quoted from the subtitled version of the series on the DVD set distributed by Bandai***
"always..."
II. The Runaway Princess
I would like to sleep now. I want the remaining hours of this dreadful day to drift away in obliviousness or, barring that, in some capricious dream in which real adversities are transmuted into absurd fantasies that nonetheless carry the insight I fail to grasp in my waking life.
I had such a dream not long ago, only the meaning it carried wasn't anything I wanted to dissect. I was playing with Millerna's old doll collection, but instead of the plain visages of painted porcelain, each doll was someone I knew. I was trying to fit them all inside of a dollhouse that was a replica of the villa my family summered in when I was a little girl. Despite the enormous size of the dollhouse, it wouldn't work. The Caeli dolls alone (including a thirteenth that I knew was wrong, but in the infernal logic of dreams, simply accepted anyway) took up an entire floor. Clearly, some dolls had to go.
Various servant, handmaiden and councilmen dolls were sent into exile, along with the thirteenth Caeli and his brethren that didn't feel familiar. I pitched Doll Meiden clear across the room. The six knights that were left (Lord Ramkin, Alucier, Allen, Revius, Seclas and the red-haired one that Alucier and Revius both dislike) shared space with a large doll in my father's clothing and twin dolls with pale blond hair of the purest silk and finely detailed lavender eyes. The only difference between those two dolls was the color of their dresses.
I sorted them sensibly into their rooms. Father and Lord Ramkin in the attic because they were important people and important people should be at the top of the house. The red-haired Caeli was put in a room on the bottom floor far away from Alucier and Revius. They got the biggest room on the second floor so they wouldn't be cramped once I added Seclas.
When I got to the dolls that represented my sisters, I became upset. I couldn't tell which one of them was which so I couldn't put them anywhere. I knew Marlene was the one in red and Millerna in pink but I just couldn't put that knowledge into use. Finally, I tossed the dolls into a room on the first floor, ashamed because they weren't where they were supposed to be and I couldn't fix it.
Only the Allen doll wasn't situated. I held onto him while I reexamined the layout of the dollhouse. He didn't go anywhere. Not one of the rooms suited him. I didn't want to experience the same failure I had with my sisters, so I chose not to place him at all. He was my doll, I reasoned. I could do whatever I wanted to do with him. I clutched him to my chest and walked away from the accusing faces of the other dolls. Allen was my favorite doll. They knew I was abandoning them because I'd rather play alone than bother trying to find a way they could all fit together.
Reluctantly, I returned to the dollhouse and laid Allen down on the second floor. He gripped my hand, surprising me, but let go and settled in with his friends. The last thing I remember before waking was questioning why a silver-haired doll had not been made and wondering whom I should ask to change that.
Millerna says I'm trying to control her. I say I'm trying to help her by guiding her. Really though, aren't those the same thing said differently? In the connotation, lies the motivation. How then, does someone understand another when they both refuse to speak clearly? Or when someone says something the other refuses to hear? Allen and I spoke of Asturia and Fanelia and the only thing communicated there was how angry we are with each other. He *was* angry though. I suppose that's better than indifference. You can only be provoked by things you care about.
Peculiar that an all out fight would contain more hope than a comparatively peaceful exchange. I will never love again. There's no hope in that, nothing but resignation.
A dull throb in my temple tells me I've been thinking too long on this, that I should get that sleep. I open the window in the hopes that fresh air will quell my headache and I'm met with the acrid odor of smoke that all of Palas has regrettably become accustomed to. But this time, it's stronger. The winds conduct the heat of flames, not just the haze of their aftermath.
Leaning out the window, I see a crowd of people, some having already changed into their nightclothes. They are all talking and watching the same thing.
Palas, my home, is on fire.
***
It's an eventful night of a fleeing king and his company, fire crews scrambling to keep damage to a minimum and diplomats doing much the same. All accounts place the blame firmly on Zaibach, or specifically, a red guymelef belonging to Zaibach, but that's not how it plays out in the council chamber. Of course, I find out these facts much later when I've finally managed to corner my father for a private meeting.
Father holds his head in a way that suggests that my headache has moved on to him. I feel sympathy for him, given how late he stayed up last night trying to smooth things over with our 'allies'. That sympathy disbands when he tells me how Zaibach's rampage through Palas was brought to a close and what was done to those involved.
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't have understood you correctly," I seethe. "The Zaibach soldier that started the fires was sent back to his a commander *with an apology from us for spotting that Escaflowne guymelef sooner* and Allen, who stopped the man from destroying what was left of the surrounding area, was put in prison?"
"According to the terms of our treaty, Zaibach is entitled to pursue its fugitives within our borders using reasonable force," he recites. "Allen Schezar violated that treaty by hindering their pursuit."
"Reasonable force?! He was killing our people."
Father shakes his head tiredly. "I know, Eries. Zaibach guymelefs are quite proficient at that. Did you know that they are capable of mass producing them?"
I don't need to ask how he knows it. I'm sure Zaibach explained everything to him in detail. It's not the lack of sleep that's making him weary.
I try consolation, something to take his mind off how easily our country was humbled. "At least now that Fanel's gone, they won't have anymore business here and they'll leave us in peace."
Father grimaces, as if the pain in his head had flared. He's so quiet, so still that I go to his side to make sure he's all right.
He waves me away. He's not all right and he doesn't want me trying to change that. "Within the hour," he states, "a Zaibach fleet will be arriving in Palas. They'll be using our harbor as a staging ground."
Military tactics were never one my strengths but even I can figure out the basic plan. Asturia enjoys its vast wealth because of its proximity to other nations. Trade is made much easier by doing it from a central location and our merchants have long trumpeted our country as being the 'center of Gaea.'
But trade is not the only thing that benefits from strategic positioning. "Which country?" I ask. "Which country are we helping them to invade?"
Father answers in a sigh so hushed, I have to ask him to repeat himself.
"Freid."
***
My memories of Freid are all tied to Marlene, its former duchess. With her death nearly three years ago, those memories narrow to a handful of visits, none of which lasted more than two or three days and all of which were undertaken because of my nephew, Chid. He's all that remains of my sister. Precocious to the point where most mistake him to be years older than he truly is, I can still see the Marlene of my childhood in him. The shrug of his shoulders when sad, the brightness of his face when happy, enthusiasm for a good story, the waves in his soft blond hair -- all are signs of his maternity. His eyes though… his eyes belong to his father.
I should say biological father. Mahad dal Freid has taken Chid in and never once claimed him as anything but his own son. It's one of the many things I admire about the man. I thought Father shared my high opinion of him. I know the Duke would never offer my father as a sacrificial lamb to keep Freid safe, yet the opposite is about to happen. Already, the shadows of Zaibach's floating fortresses cover most of Palas.
The people are frightened. They wonder if we are the ones being invaded and speculate on the horrors that will take place. How much relief would it be to them to know that they are right, but the victims will be the denizens of the allied country to which they gave a beloved princess? Less, I think, than Father has calculated.
Millerna was only furious. She didn't know about Freid when I saw her, but the combination of Allen being thrown in prison and a foreign fleet hanging in the sky had her barreling towards Father's office, intent on having the same fight I did. I imagine it's over by now and her luck was no greater than mine.
The worst part is that I don't know which side of the fight I really fall on. I don't want to see Freid invaded. I don't want the lives of my nephew and my brother-in-law being put in jeopardy. I don't want a country, any country, to be forced into war. That includes Asturia. Complying with Zaibach ensures our safety, but who is placating whom? Will betraying Freid save us or merely delay a similar fate?
Going for a walk around the palace yards won't solve this for me. If anything, it's alarming to the people to see the princess they can always count on as being emotionless being consumed with worry. I'm grateful when I see Alucier coming for me. At the very least, he'll be able to provide a different perspective.
"I need to tell you something." It's private and important, going by how he grabs me, takes me away from everybody to an isolated window seat and pulls the outer curtain. He won't even speak until he's double-checked that no one can here us.
"Alucier, what is -- "
"Not that I actually saw something like this occurring, but in theory, I want to know your opinion on what should be done given who is possibly involved."
The babbling notwithstanding, I can tell he's serious. "And this hypothetical situation is… ?"
"Okay, say there's this princess and she goes down to the jail to visit a friend who's there and she takes with her that friend's second-in-command. Say that during the visit, a guard gets knocked unconscious and the friend's cell just happens to pop open. Now say that after they've left the prison, they run into somebody, someone like myself for example, who after having the circumstances explained to him in full, if not in a hurried manner, decides to contribute ever so slightly to the situation by redirecting the remaining guards on the floor."
Well. That clears up what Alucier's perspective is. This could be to my benefit though. "Where are they now and what are their intentions?"
"I talked mostly to that Gaddes guy. Allen's crew has his guymelef loaded and the Crusade ready to go at the dockyard. He mentioned the country of Freid but he didn't know much about it. They're headed out to a carriage that's ready at the stables. Allen's changing into uniform so in case anyone stops them, they can claim to be a princess going out with her Caeli escort and the carriage driver."
"Which would work until the guards came chasing after them screaming at them to stop."
"Yeah, that's why I came for you. You were going to talk to your father this morning. You know what's going on more than I do. I thought it should be up to you to put a stop to it or not," Alucier says, adjusting his glasses in an old mannerism that means he's conflicted.
We don't have time for indecisiveness. The guard will wake up or others will come to check on him and the prisoner. If Allen is to escape, he would likely go to Freid and warn them. It's not much, but it's better than having an army show up on Mahad's doorstep without him being able to prepare for their arrival.
I form the plan as I go. "Revius is captain of the guard. Have him announce a jailbreak. If we preempt the alarm, then we can control the search. I know you won't be able to keep everybody away from the stables but Allen and his sergeant should be able to deal with the few guards that do pursue them."
"You want them to go?"
"I want Allen to go. Freid deserves to know what's coming and if the information is delivered by a prison escapee, then Zaibach can't very well blame us for that, can they? Millerna is another matter entirely. She stays here, out of harm's way."
Alucier brings up the last part of the plan I haven't figured out. "And how are we going to stop her? They've probably already left for the stables. How are we going to catch up to them?"
"I know a shortcut to the dockyard you could take," says a raspy voice from outside our niche. Within seconds, Alucier is pressing the edge of his sword against the voice's owner. The man is a little shaken having been pulled through the curtain and thrown onto the window seat in such a rapid procession. Just for a few seconds though. Soon, he's ignoring the sword and adjusting his ill-fitting shirt in a futile attempt to cover his girth while chastising Alucier. "You Caeli Knights jump to violence too quickly. Let me explain --"
"Explain what? Why you were eavesdropping on us?" Alucier demands.
I don't want this to grow into a fight. It'll take time we don't have and draw attention we don't want. Besides, I finally recognize the old man. "You were with Allen and the rest on the Crusade, weren't you? You crept away right after they docked."
"And I was in Palas before any of them," he says boastfully.
So his claim of a shortcut appears to be valid. Alucier looks at me uncertainly. The old man may be telling the truth but that doesn't necessarily mean we should trust him. The only thing we both know for sure is that lingering any longer in the close confines of this alcove isn't a good idea. His appearance suggests he's a moleman. His earthy aroma certifies it.
"How would we get to dockyard from here so swiftly?" I ask. "On a horse going full speed it would take more than five minutes."
"Because the rider would be following the road. We'll take the direct route, through a tunnel."
Alucier exhales sharply. "There's a secret tunnel from here to the dockyard?" As part of palace security, I know that he's troubled by the notion, but he can fix the breech later. I need to use it now.
"Come on, then. Show it to me. Alucier, you go find Revius."
The moleman hops off the cushion and gets ready to go. Abruptly, there's a man who hasn't yet sheathed his sword blocking his way. "You have to be kidding, Eries. I'm not letting you wander around in the dark in a mysterious tunnel with some strange man."
"Actually, there are a few torches here and there," the old man chimes in helpfully.
Over his discourse on the vision of molemen in relation to common humans, I make my case to my guard. "Someone has to get Revius and tell him what to do and someone has to confront Millerna while letting Allen go. It wouldn't matter if *I'm* caught doing the latter. Father will think I was too concerned with my sister to do anything to stop Allen. And really, what could a princess do against a highly trained swordsman? If it were to be you, you could be accused of being complicit in Allen's escape. It has to be me. Now, go! Don't make me order you to do it."
It's against his better judgement, but Alucier relents. He makes sure the Moleman gets one last look at his sword before he rushes off.
"Those Caeli," he observes. "Very protective of their women too."
***
True to his word, it's a quick trip through the surprisingly straight tunnel. I must duck down during most of the journey and the bits of crumbling dirt make me very thankful I had the foresight to put on a hat before going out for my walk. The last, steep stretch is the worst but when we emerge from the opening, it's to the sight of an anchored Crusade and her crew doing last minute preparations.
Their too wrapped up in their work to notice us or do anything about our presence even if they did, so I stride to the spot a carriage would most likely have to stop in front of and take up position. The Moleman waddles after me.
A carriage rounds the last curve. A group of guards on horseback are giving pursuit but they're too far back to be much of a threat. Unless someone like Millerna lets them catch up by not letting things go the way they should go.
She's off to a promising start. She and Allen both gape at me for precious seconds trying to comprehend how I got here. They won't waste any more guessing why. "I won't tell Father of this, Millerna. Come back to the castle with me."
There are so many sensible things she could say but it's the same tired rhetoric about Allen. Just as she pronounces that she's leaving the country, the reason for that trip cancels it on her behalf. Allen picks her up and carries her back into the carriage. Millerna's squealing and squirming continue even after Allen shuts the carriage door behind him.
I don't want to know what he's saying to her. I don't want to know what he has to do to get her to be silent. As long as it works, I tell myself more than once. As long as she stays…
And it does work. Allen hops out of the carriage and sends the horses running in circles. Millerna's up shortly and shouting out the windows at him but he hasn't the time to listen to her. The guardsman have entered the dockyard.
Allen knows Alucier's role in this. Revius' part can be guessed by how easily he made it here and the paltry number of guards that came after him. Any action by the two of them more or less carries a tacit approval from me. It's not as if I've made a single move to stop him, either.
For my help, I am rewarded. Gaddes and his crew are yelling about the guards and have gotten the Crusade moving but Allen has one last thing to do before leaving. He bows formally to me, as a knight should, but a mercurial smile plays across his face as it did in the past when the only use we had for etiquette was as fodder for private jokes. Like a friend would…
"I'll be off then."
The guards rush in behind me and slow down. They can't get straight at Allen without the risk of running me over. It gives him the time he needs to board his leviship and be gone. One last favor on my part.
The guards are cursing quietly. Letting a prisoner escape will not sit well with their commanders. Already, they're making excuses, some of them involving making my safety a priority. Won't they be thrilled when they see Millerna and have another princess they can claim they were protecting?
I'll go along with whatever story they wish to tell. For now, I ignore them in favor of a rapidly vanishing leviship. Seeing Allen again has become a matter of 'if' rather than 'when' and I want to remember that goodbye even if the only thing I can do about it is plaintively call after him.
***
Millerna is back at the palace. The guards have received a strongly worded reprimand and a month's worth of duties far below their ranks. Father's having another meeting with our cheerful friend, the Strategos. Jichia only knows what he's telling them. In a rare show of solidarity, Millerna and I pretended to be unaware of Allen's destination when we were questioned about the mess. The session was brief. Royal guards aren't used to interrogating princesses and Father knew we weren't going to say anything no matter how long and often we were asked. I think the Moleman lingering around us unnerved them too.
I'm grateful for his help, but he disappeared before I was able to offer my appreciation. I doubt he wanted to stick around long enough for questions about his role in all this to be asked. He has secrets he probably wanted to keep to himself too. Millerna tried to pry them out of him. There wasn't a minute of our ride back to the palace that didn't contain a demand from her to know how I got there so fast. She was so curious, I had Alucier and Revius agree to take turns watching her. If Millerna knew about tunnels leading out of the palace, the first thing she would do is take one. Allen and I were the ones who decided she should stay in Palas. Millerna made no such agreement. She never has learned the fine distinction between righteous determination and plain hardheadedness.
I don't know what she thinks she's going to be able to do. True, Mahad would be quicker to listen to his sister-in-law than the former lover of his dead wife, but in the end, he's rational enough to put aside any personal conflicts and listen to Allen. If Millerna were in Freid, she would just be another person for him to worry about protecting. He's going to have a hard enough fight without that distraction.
But if Millerna were in Freid, would Father let Zaibach attack? Father may play his political games and use us as pawns, but never in a way that would cause us harm.
Perhaps it's best that I'm no longer on the council because I've been with it too long if I'm starting to think of people in terms of their strategic value. Millerna is my sister. I've spent too much time and sacrificed my relationship with her to keep her safe. I can't let her run away to Freid even it could, in some way, be beneficial.
So far, Millerna's played along with me. Dinner was a collection of inanities about the weather, but she was there. Revius followed her from her room to the dining hall to make sure of it. Alucier escorted me back to my room, ever so coincidently at the same time Millerna was returning to hers. I can hear the heavy footsteps of the guard Revius appointed for night watch pacing outside in the hallway. My little sister must not have been listening so carefully. There's the sound of a door creaking slowly ajar, then a soprano mope of disappointment followed by the same door being shut with a great deal more force than was used to open it.
Millerna won't be sneaking off anywhere tonight and she knows it. For the next few minutes, I'm treated to a muffled rant. I assume it's a rant. Words aren't making it through the walls but the tone of her voice passes through with clarion quality.
Tired of the day and everything in it, I crawl into bed and resume the previous night's desire for sleep. As I drift off, Millerna's voice breezes in from the window. She's calmer now, though she must still be angry if she's venting into the courtyard. She *needs* to get to Freid. She *won't* give up on Allen. It's foolish. Anyone pulling late duty tonight is going to have simply wonderful gossip about the royal family tomorrow.
I'm so drowsy and so inured to her complaints that I almost miss it. If she's throwing a tantrum, she's making unusual dramatic pauses. I sit up and strain to hear.
"There's a guard up on the floor. You'll need to lead him away long enough for me to get out of my room."
She's giving instructions. She's talking to someone.
She's plotting her escape.
Who would help her? None of the guards on duty would. Revius is their commander. They answer to him and he would answer to me. Millerna's tomboyish ways have alienated her from most of the overly conventional handmaidens that we employ. She's never taken one into enough confidence to aid in such a ploy. Allen took the entirety of his crew with him.
I creep over to the window and peek out to try to see her accomplice. The moons are bright. Their light is amplified by the canal waters catching it and tossing it out into the courtyard. For the dead of night, I couldn't ask for better illumination.
But I can't see anyone. Scanning the shadows, scouring the yard piece by piece reveals no one. Just as I begin to think that my sister's having a bit of fun with me, the identity of her collaborator, along with explanation for why I couldn't see him, comes to me in a rich earthen smell brought to my room by the night winds.
So the Moleman believes in helping any princess in need. How noble of him. How inopportune for me. There's no telling what kind of paths and tunnels this man knows about. With him as a guide, Millerna could turn a corner and disappear forever.
I will not let that happen. After pulling my dress and boots back on, I step out into the hallway in time to see the guard being predictably drawn off his post by the appearance of a stray moleman sauntering around the stairwell. For once, we sisters do think alike. Millerna joins me shortly thereafter, surprised and not in a pleasant way.
Caught but eternally defiant, Millerna smoothes over the severe black cloak she's covered herself in as if she was doing nothing more than going for a walk. "I thought you had gone to bed, Sister," she says simply.
"I thought the same of you, but then I heard you talking to someone in the courtyard."
She checks the stairwell. Finding it empty, she says, "Then you know what I intend to do. Excuse me," retrieves two bags from her room and brushes past me.
"I could call the guards on you," I remind her.
"Then do it."
I could almost admire her bluntness. Pity that she's applying it to a reckless pursuit. It's that singular vision of hers. Everything will happen according to her will. She can just leave the palace, sneak off to Freid and magically stop an invasion while winning true love. Never mind the fact that she's never set foot outside this city without an entourage of servants and guards cradling her. She's got her indomitable will.
And a healthy lead on me. I anticipated another one of our quarrels but her direct approach threw me off. She's skipping down the stairs while I stare stupidly at her retreating form. This would be a perfect time to call for the palace guards. Stuck in a stairwell, there's no place for her to hide, no room to duck in to. I don't call them though. Millerna is my sister. No matter how much I disagree with what she's doing, I won't have her humiliated by dragged about by the guard like a common criminal.
Nor will I let her go without a fight. I chase after her mutely, waiting for an opening to confront her. Millerna will not give me one. She strides purposefully, turning sharply at the places the Moleman must have told her about and pausing only once to recollect her bearings. We climb further down the palace until we're close to a canal. There are the sounds of water lapping against the walls and a boat pulling at its moorings. This must be the dock used to escort convicts out of the prisons. At the bottom of the rear of the castle, it was built so that the good people of Palas wouldn't have to look at the lower elements of our society as they were taken away for good. The Moleman served Millerna well. No one's going to even consider that a princess would use such a crude means of egress.
He's settling in for a nap on the boat, surrounded by provisions. It's highly unlikely that the preparations were Millerna's doing, but it's a relief to know she's found someone, however unorthodox, that she can rely on.
If I were going to let her go, that is.
"Millerna."
She's places her bags on the back of the boat, carefully so as not to disturb her travelling companion.
"Millerna!" I won't be ignored, even if a have to climb on the damned boat myself.
It doesn't come to that. Millerna comes back close enough to me so shouting won't be necessary. That doesn't mean it won't happen regardless.
"You can't stop me. I've made up my mind."
I have neither the patience for nor inclination towards tact. "You're abandoning your country? You're hopeless on your own."
"Stop treating me like a child!" It's a horrible preamble for what amounts to another tantrum, but I listen dutifully and give her the same answers she's chosen to discount time and again. She even works in her medical studies and her insistence that the only reason she wanted to be a doctor was to help people.
I should print out small cards with this speech and just give them to her whenever she's being insufferably selfish. "Royalty should use their position for the sake of their people. Such egotism is an insult to your people."
What began in assertiveness ends in whining. I should have foreseen it, should have known her only motivation for anything these days, but hearing her scream, "But I love Allen!" as the one essential truth in the world stuns me.
Because I had believed that despite her age and tempestuous temperament, Millerna would still have the sense enough to know love from a crush. To know duty from desire. To not repeat my mistake of placing all of her life in the fragile heart of one man.
But how could she know? I've refused to teach her. I've told her *what* to do, but never why.
"I'm going. Goodbye, Sister."
She's through with me. She boards the boat and unties the thick ropes keeping it bound to the dock. With one word, I could keep her here. The guards might not reach her until she's gotten to the main canals, but they would get to her. They would bring her back, Father and I would take turns admonishing her, then she would be back at it again the next night.
Millerna was right. I can't stop her; I can only delay her. And in the process, damage beyond repair the relationship between us. I would make that sacrifice if it meant Millerna would be out of harm's way, but she's determined to put herself on that path. I can't say anything that will deter her.
So I say nothing at all. The boat floats away, creating a physical distance between my sister and I that pales to the emotional one that has existed for over a year. It's only after the fog has absorbed the vessel that I can speak again.
"Goodbye, Sister."
***
Author's Notes: Whoa! Y'all been reviewing your little butts off. My deepest apologies for going into sloth mode in response. Work's been ridiculous lately and a tired Aerika writes no chapters. Come on beginning of the year slack off! Anyway, I have done some stuff. The revisions to 'The Secret Life of a Girl' have begun. Just chapter one so far. To give you an idea of how much change will take place, I did even want to change all that much with the first chapter and it went from 1900 some words (unreal, isn't it?) to around 2700. Wait until I take a hatchet to chapters two and three, the ones I *really* want to revise. Find the revised chapter one at:
www.geocities.com/eriesariaaston/girl_1.html
The design of the Eries shrine has changed slightly and the long delayed Eries x Allen essay is finally up. Speaking of Allen, BFUM has been updated too with one gallery page added.
www.geocities.com/aerikas
Next up: Daddy/daughter bonding time in The Nursemaid's Tale. (I will have this out before Christmas. I will have this out before Christmas. I will, etc.)
"always..."
II. The Runaway Princess
I would like to sleep now. I want the remaining hours of this dreadful day to drift away in obliviousness or, barring that, in some capricious dream in which real adversities are transmuted into absurd fantasies that nonetheless carry the insight I fail to grasp in my waking life.
I had such a dream not long ago, only the meaning it carried wasn't anything I wanted to dissect. I was playing with Millerna's old doll collection, but instead of the plain visages of painted porcelain, each doll was someone I knew. I was trying to fit them all inside of a dollhouse that was a replica of the villa my family summered in when I was a little girl. Despite the enormous size of the dollhouse, it wouldn't work. The Caeli dolls alone (including a thirteenth that I knew was wrong, but in the infernal logic of dreams, simply accepted anyway) took up an entire floor. Clearly, some dolls had to go.
Various servant, handmaiden and councilmen dolls were sent into exile, along with the thirteenth Caeli and his brethren that didn't feel familiar. I pitched Doll Meiden clear across the room. The six knights that were left (Lord Ramkin, Alucier, Allen, Revius, Seclas and the red-haired one that Alucier and Revius both dislike) shared space with a large doll in my father's clothing and twin dolls with pale blond hair of the purest silk and finely detailed lavender eyes. The only difference between those two dolls was the color of their dresses.
I sorted them sensibly into their rooms. Father and Lord Ramkin in the attic because they were important people and important people should be at the top of the house. The red-haired Caeli was put in a room on the bottom floor far away from Alucier and Revius. They got the biggest room on the second floor so they wouldn't be cramped once I added Seclas.
When I got to the dolls that represented my sisters, I became upset. I couldn't tell which one of them was which so I couldn't put them anywhere. I knew Marlene was the one in red and Millerna in pink but I just couldn't put that knowledge into use. Finally, I tossed the dolls into a room on the first floor, ashamed because they weren't where they were supposed to be and I couldn't fix it.
Only the Allen doll wasn't situated. I held onto him while I reexamined the layout of the dollhouse. He didn't go anywhere. Not one of the rooms suited him. I didn't want to experience the same failure I had with my sisters, so I chose not to place him at all. He was my doll, I reasoned. I could do whatever I wanted to do with him. I clutched him to my chest and walked away from the accusing faces of the other dolls. Allen was my favorite doll. They knew I was abandoning them because I'd rather play alone than bother trying to find a way they could all fit together.
Reluctantly, I returned to the dollhouse and laid Allen down on the second floor. He gripped my hand, surprising me, but let go and settled in with his friends. The last thing I remember before waking was questioning why a silver-haired doll had not been made and wondering whom I should ask to change that.
Millerna says I'm trying to control her. I say I'm trying to help her by guiding her. Really though, aren't those the same thing said differently? In the connotation, lies the motivation. How then, does someone understand another when they both refuse to speak clearly? Or when someone says something the other refuses to hear? Allen and I spoke of Asturia and Fanelia and the only thing communicated there was how angry we are with each other. He *was* angry though. I suppose that's better than indifference. You can only be provoked by things you care about.
Peculiar that an all out fight would contain more hope than a comparatively peaceful exchange. I will never love again. There's no hope in that, nothing but resignation.
A dull throb in my temple tells me I've been thinking too long on this, that I should get that sleep. I open the window in the hopes that fresh air will quell my headache and I'm met with the acrid odor of smoke that all of Palas has regrettably become accustomed to. But this time, it's stronger. The winds conduct the heat of flames, not just the haze of their aftermath.
Leaning out the window, I see a crowd of people, some having already changed into their nightclothes. They are all talking and watching the same thing.
Palas, my home, is on fire.
***
It's an eventful night of a fleeing king and his company, fire crews scrambling to keep damage to a minimum and diplomats doing much the same. All accounts place the blame firmly on Zaibach, or specifically, a red guymelef belonging to Zaibach, but that's not how it plays out in the council chamber. Of course, I find out these facts much later when I've finally managed to corner my father for a private meeting.
Father holds his head in a way that suggests that my headache has moved on to him. I feel sympathy for him, given how late he stayed up last night trying to smooth things over with our 'allies'. That sympathy disbands when he tells me how Zaibach's rampage through Palas was brought to a close and what was done to those involved.
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't have understood you correctly," I seethe. "The Zaibach soldier that started the fires was sent back to his a commander *with an apology from us for spotting that Escaflowne guymelef sooner* and Allen, who stopped the man from destroying what was left of the surrounding area, was put in prison?"
"According to the terms of our treaty, Zaibach is entitled to pursue its fugitives within our borders using reasonable force," he recites. "Allen Schezar violated that treaty by hindering their pursuit."
"Reasonable force?! He was killing our people."
Father shakes his head tiredly. "I know, Eries. Zaibach guymelefs are quite proficient at that. Did you know that they are capable of mass producing them?"
I don't need to ask how he knows it. I'm sure Zaibach explained everything to him in detail. It's not the lack of sleep that's making him weary.
I try consolation, something to take his mind off how easily our country was humbled. "At least now that Fanel's gone, they won't have anymore business here and they'll leave us in peace."
Father grimaces, as if the pain in his head had flared. He's so quiet, so still that I go to his side to make sure he's all right.
He waves me away. He's not all right and he doesn't want me trying to change that. "Within the hour," he states, "a Zaibach fleet will be arriving in Palas. They'll be using our harbor as a staging ground."
Military tactics were never one my strengths but even I can figure out the basic plan. Asturia enjoys its vast wealth because of its proximity to other nations. Trade is made much easier by doing it from a central location and our merchants have long trumpeted our country as being the 'center of Gaea.'
But trade is not the only thing that benefits from strategic positioning. "Which country?" I ask. "Which country are we helping them to invade?"
Father answers in a sigh so hushed, I have to ask him to repeat himself.
"Freid."
***
My memories of Freid are all tied to Marlene, its former duchess. With her death nearly three years ago, those memories narrow to a handful of visits, none of which lasted more than two or three days and all of which were undertaken because of my nephew, Chid. He's all that remains of my sister. Precocious to the point where most mistake him to be years older than he truly is, I can still see the Marlene of my childhood in him. The shrug of his shoulders when sad, the brightness of his face when happy, enthusiasm for a good story, the waves in his soft blond hair -- all are signs of his maternity. His eyes though… his eyes belong to his father.
I should say biological father. Mahad dal Freid has taken Chid in and never once claimed him as anything but his own son. It's one of the many things I admire about the man. I thought Father shared my high opinion of him. I know the Duke would never offer my father as a sacrificial lamb to keep Freid safe, yet the opposite is about to happen. Already, the shadows of Zaibach's floating fortresses cover most of Palas.
The people are frightened. They wonder if we are the ones being invaded and speculate on the horrors that will take place. How much relief would it be to them to know that they are right, but the victims will be the denizens of the allied country to which they gave a beloved princess? Less, I think, than Father has calculated.
Millerna was only furious. She didn't know about Freid when I saw her, but the combination of Allen being thrown in prison and a foreign fleet hanging in the sky had her barreling towards Father's office, intent on having the same fight I did. I imagine it's over by now and her luck was no greater than mine.
The worst part is that I don't know which side of the fight I really fall on. I don't want to see Freid invaded. I don't want the lives of my nephew and my brother-in-law being put in jeopardy. I don't want a country, any country, to be forced into war. That includes Asturia. Complying with Zaibach ensures our safety, but who is placating whom? Will betraying Freid save us or merely delay a similar fate?
Going for a walk around the palace yards won't solve this for me. If anything, it's alarming to the people to see the princess they can always count on as being emotionless being consumed with worry. I'm grateful when I see Alucier coming for me. At the very least, he'll be able to provide a different perspective.
"I need to tell you something." It's private and important, going by how he grabs me, takes me away from everybody to an isolated window seat and pulls the outer curtain. He won't even speak until he's double-checked that no one can here us.
"Alucier, what is -- "
"Not that I actually saw something like this occurring, but in theory, I want to know your opinion on what should be done given who is possibly involved."
The babbling notwithstanding, I can tell he's serious. "And this hypothetical situation is… ?"
"Okay, say there's this princess and she goes down to the jail to visit a friend who's there and she takes with her that friend's second-in-command. Say that during the visit, a guard gets knocked unconscious and the friend's cell just happens to pop open. Now say that after they've left the prison, they run into somebody, someone like myself for example, who after having the circumstances explained to him in full, if not in a hurried manner, decides to contribute ever so slightly to the situation by redirecting the remaining guards on the floor."
Well. That clears up what Alucier's perspective is. This could be to my benefit though. "Where are they now and what are their intentions?"
"I talked mostly to that Gaddes guy. Allen's crew has his guymelef loaded and the Crusade ready to go at the dockyard. He mentioned the country of Freid but he didn't know much about it. They're headed out to a carriage that's ready at the stables. Allen's changing into uniform so in case anyone stops them, they can claim to be a princess going out with her Caeli escort and the carriage driver."
"Which would work until the guards came chasing after them screaming at them to stop."
"Yeah, that's why I came for you. You were going to talk to your father this morning. You know what's going on more than I do. I thought it should be up to you to put a stop to it or not," Alucier says, adjusting his glasses in an old mannerism that means he's conflicted.
We don't have time for indecisiveness. The guard will wake up or others will come to check on him and the prisoner. If Allen is to escape, he would likely go to Freid and warn them. It's not much, but it's better than having an army show up on Mahad's doorstep without him being able to prepare for their arrival.
I form the plan as I go. "Revius is captain of the guard. Have him announce a jailbreak. If we preempt the alarm, then we can control the search. I know you won't be able to keep everybody away from the stables but Allen and his sergeant should be able to deal with the few guards that do pursue them."
"You want them to go?"
"I want Allen to go. Freid deserves to know what's coming and if the information is delivered by a prison escapee, then Zaibach can't very well blame us for that, can they? Millerna is another matter entirely. She stays here, out of harm's way."
Alucier brings up the last part of the plan I haven't figured out. "And how are we going to stop her? They've probably already left for the stables. How are we going to catch up to them?"
"I know a shortcut to the dockyard you could take," says a raspy voice from outside our niche. Within seconds, Alucier is pressing the edge of his sword against the voice's owner. The man is a little shaken having been pulled through the curtain and thrown onto the window seat in such a rapid procession. Just for a few seconds though. Soon, he's ignoring the sword and adjusting his ill-fitting shirt in a futile attempt to cover his girth while chastising Alucier. "You Caeli Knights jump to violence too quickly. Let me explain --"
"Explain what? Why you were eavesdropping on us?" Alucier demands.
I don't want this to grow into a fight. It'll take time we don't have and draw attention we don't want. Besides, I finally recognize the old man. "You were with Allen and the rest on the Crusade, weren't you? You crept away right after they docked."
"And I was in Palas before any of them," he says boastfully.
So his claim of a shortcut appears to be valid. Alucier looks at me uncertainly. The old man may be telling the truth but that doesn't necessarily mean we should trust him. The only thing we both know for sure is that lingering any longer in the close confines of this alcove isn't a good idea. His appearance suggests he's a moleman. His earthy aroma certifies it.
"How would we get to dockyard from here so swiftly?" I ask. "On a horse going full speed it would take more than five minutes."
"Because the rider would be following the road. We'll take the direct route, through a tunnel."
Alucier exhales sharply. "There's a secret tunnel from here to the dockyard?" As part of palace security, I know that he's troubled by the notion, but he can fix the breech later. I need to use it now.
"Come on, then. Show it to me. Alucier, you go find Revius."
The moleman hops off the cushion and gets ready to go. Abruptly, there's a man who hasn't yet sheathed his sword blocking his way. "You have to be kidding, Eries. I'm not letting you wander around in the dark in a mysterious tunnel with some strange man."
"Actually, there are a few torches here and there," the old man chimes in helpfully.
Over his discourse on the vision of molemen in relation to common humans, I make my case to my guard. "Someone has to get Revius and tell him what to do and someone has to confront Millerna while letting Allen go. It wouldn't matter if *I'm* caught doing the latter. Father will think I was too concerned with my sister to do anything to stop Allen. And really, what could a princess do against a highly trained swordsman? If it were to be you, you could be accused of being complicit in Allen's escape. It has to be me. Now, go! Don't make me order you to do it."
It's against his better judgement, but Alucier relents. He makes sure the Moleman gets one last look at his sword before he rushes off.
"Those Caeli," he observes. "Very protective of their women too."
***
True to his word, it's a quick trip through the surprisingly straight tunnel. I must duck down during most of the journey and the bits of crumbling dirt make me very thankful I had the foresight to put on a hat before going out for my walk. The last, steep stretch is the worst but when we emerge from the opening, it's to the sight of an anchored Crusade and her crew doing last minute preparations.
Their too wrapped up in their work to notice us or do anything about our presence even if they did, so I stride to the spot a carriage would most likely have to stop in front of and take up position. The Moleman waddles after me.
A carriage rounds the last curve. A group of guards on horseback are giving pursuit but they're too far back to be much of a threat. Unless someone like Millerna lets them catch up by not letting things go the way they should go.
She's off to a promising start. She and Allen both gape at me for precious seconds trying to comprehend how I got here. They won't waste any more guessing why. "I won't tell Father of this, Millerna. Come back to the castle with me."
There are so many sensible things she could say but it's the same tired rhetoric about Allen. Just as she pronounces that she's leaving the country, the reason for that trip cancels it on her behalf. Allen picks her up and carries her back into the carriage. Millerna's squealing and squirming continue even after Allen shuts the carriage door behind him.
I don't want to know what he's saying to her. I don't want to know what he has to do to get her to be silent. As long as it works, I tell myself more than once. As long as she stays…
And it does work. Allen hops out of the carriage and sends the horses running in circles. Millerna's up shortly and shouting out the windows at him but he hasn't the time to listen to her. The guardsman have entered the dockyard.
Allen knows Alucier's role in this. Revius' part can be guessed by how easily he made it here and the paltry number of guards that came after him. Any action by the two of them more or less carries a tacit approval from me. It's not as if I've made a single move to stop him, either.
For my help, I am rewarded. Gaddes and his crew are yelling about the guards and have gotten the Crusade moving but Allen has one last thing to do before leaving. He bows formally to me, as a knight should, but a mercurial smile plays across his face as it did in the past when the only use we had for etiquette was as fodder for private jokes. Like a friend would…
"I'll be off then."
The guards rush in behind me and slow down. They can't get straight at Allen without the risk of running me over. It gives him the time he needs to board his leviship and be gone. One last favor on my part.
The guards are cursing quietly. Letting a prisoner escape will not sit well with their commanders. Already, they're making excuses, some of them involving making my safety a priority. Won't they be thrilled when they see Millerna and have another princess they can claim they were protecting?
I'll go along with whatever story they wish to tell. For now, I ignore them in favor of a rapidly vanishing leviship. Seeing Allen again has become a matter of 'if' rather than 'when' and I want to remember that goodbye even if the only thing I can do about it is plaintively call after him.
***
Millerna is back at the palace. The guards have received a strongly worded reprimand and a month's worth of duties far below their ranks. Father's having another meeting with our cheerful friend, the Strategos. Jichia only knows what he's telling them. In a rare show of solidarity, Millerna and I pretended to be unaware of Allen's destination when we were questioned about the mess. The session was brief. Royal guards aren't used to interrogating princesses and Father knew we weren't going to say anything no matter how long and often we were asked. I think the Moleman lingering around us unnerved them too.
I'm grateful for his help, but he disappeared before I was able to offer my appreciation. I doubt he wanted to stick around long enough for questions about his role in all this to be asked. He has secrets he probably wanted to keep to himself too. Millerna tried to pry them out of him. There wasn't a minute of our ride back to the palace that didn't contain a demand from her to know how I got there so fast. She was so curious, I had Alucier and Revius agree to take turns watching her. If Millerna knew about tunnels leading out of the palace, the first thing she would do is take one. Allen and I were the ones who decided she should stay in Palas. Millerna made no such agreement. She never has learned the fine distinction between righteous determination and plain hardheadedness.
I don't know what she thinks she's going to be able to do. True, Mahad would be quicker to listen to his sister-in-law than the former lover of his dead wife, but in the end, he's rational enough to put aside any personal conflicts and listen to Allen. If Millerna were in Freid, she would just be another person for him to worry about protecting. He's going to have a hard enough fight without that distraction.
But if Millerna were in Freid, would Father let Zaibach attack? Father may play his political games and use us as pawns, but never in a way that would cause us harm.
Perhaps it's best that I'm no longer on the council because I've been with it too long if I'm starting to think of people in terms of their strategic value. Millerna is my sister. I've spent too much time and sacrificed my relationship with her to keep her safe. I can't let her run away to Freid even it could, in some way, be beneficial.
So far, Millerna's played along with me. Dinner was a collection of inanities about the weather, but she was there. Revius followed her from her room to the dining hall to make sure of it. Alucier escorted me back to my room, ever so coincidently at the same time Millerna was returning to hers. I can hear the heavy footsteps of the guard Revius appointed for night watch pacing outside in the hallway. My little sister must not have been listening so carefully. There's the sound of a door creaking slowly ajar, then a soprano mope of disappointment followed by the same door being shut with a great deal more force than was used to open it.
Millerna won't be sneaking off anywhere tonight and she knows it. For the next few minutes, I'm treated to a muffled rant. I assume it's a rant. Words aren't making it through the walls but the tone of her voice passes through with clarion quality.
Tired of the day and everything in it, I crawl into bed and resume the previous night's desire for sleep. As I drift off, Millerna's voice breezes in from the window. She's calmer now, though she must still be angry if she's venting into the courtyard. She *needs* to get to Freid. She *won't* give up on Allen. It's foolish. Anyone pulling late duty tonight is going to have simply wonderful gossip about the royal family tomorrow.
I'm so drowsy and so inured to her complaints that I almost miss it. If she's throwing a tantrum, she's making unusual dramatic pauses. I sit up and strain to hear.
"There's a guard up on the floor. You'll need to lead him away long enough for me to get out of my room."
She's giving instructions. She's talking to someone.
She's plotting her escape.
Who would help her? None of the guards on duty would. Revius is their commander. They answer to him and he would answer to me. Millerna's tomboyish ways have alienated her from most of the overly conventional handmaidens that we employ. She's never taken one into enough confidence to aid in such a ploy. Allen took the entirety of his crew with him.
I creep over to the window and peek out to try to see her accomplice. The moons are bright. Their light is amplified by the canal waters catching it and tossing it out into the courtyard. For the dead of night, I couldn't ask for better illumination.
But I can't see anyone. Scanning the shadows, scouring the yard piece by piece reveals no one. Just as I begin to think that my sister's having a bit of fun with me, the identity of her collaborator, along with explanation for why I couldn't see him, comes to me in a rich earthen smell brought to my room by the night winds.
So the Moleman believes in helping any princess in need. How noble of him. How inopportune for me. There's no telling what kind of paths and tunnels this man knows about. With him as a guide, Millerna could turn a corner and disappear forever.
I will not let that happen. After pulling my dress and boots back on, I step out into the hallway in time to see the guard being predictably drawn off his post by the appearance of a stray moleman sauntering around the stairwell. For once, we sisters do think alike. Millerna joins me shortly thereafter, surprised and not in a pleasant way.
Caught but eternally defiant, Millerna smoothes over the severe black cloak she's covered herself in as if she was doing nothing more than going for a walk. "I thought you had gone to bed, Sister," she says simply.
"I thought the same of you, but then I heard you talking to someone in the courtyard."
She checks the stairwell. Finding it empty, she says, "Then you know what I intend to do. Excuse me," retrieves two bags from her room and brushes past me.
"I could call the guards on you," I remind her.
"Then do it."
I could almost admire her bluntness. Pity that she's applying it to a reckless pursuit. It's that singular vision of hers. Everything will happen according to her will. She can just leave the palace, sneak off to Freid and magically stop an invasion while winning true love. Never mind the fact that she's never set foot outside this city without an entourage of servants and guards cradling her. She's got her indomitable will.
And a healthy lead on me. I anticipated another one of our quarrels but her direct approach threw me off. She's skipping down the stairs while I stare stupidly at her retreating form. This would be a perfect time to call for the palace guards. Stuck in a stairwell, there's no place for her to hide, no room to duck in to. I don't call them though. Millerna is my sister. No matter how much I disagree with what she's doing, I won't have her humiliated by dragged about by the guard like a common criminal.
Nor will I let her go without a fight. I chase after her mutely, waiting for an opening to confront her. Millerna will not give me one. She strides purposefully, turning sharply at the places the Moleman must have told her about and pausing only once to recollect her bearings. We climb further down the palace until we're close to a canal. There are the sounds of water lapping against the walls and a boat pulling at its moorings. This must be the dock used to escort convicts out of the prisons. At the bottom of the rear of the castle, it was built so that the good people of Palas wouldn't have to look at the lower elements of our society as they were taken away for good. The Moleman served Millerna well. No one's going to even consider that a princess would use such a crude means of egress.
He's settling in for a nap on the boat, surrounded by provisions. It's highly unlikely that the preparations were Millerna's doing, but it's a relief to know she's found someone, however unorthodox, that she can rely on.
If I were going to let her go, that is.
"Millerna."
She's places her bags on the back of the boat, carefully so as not to disturb her travelling companion.
"Millerna!" I won't be ignored, even if a have to climb on the damned boat myself.
It doesn't come to that. Millerna comes back close enough to me so shouting won't be necessary. That doesn't mean it won't happen regardless.
"You can't stop me. I've made up my mind."
I have neither the patience for nor inclination towards tact. "You're abandoning your country? You're hopeless on your own."
"Stop treating me like a child!" It's a horrible preamble for what amounts to another tantrum, but I listen dutifully and give her the same answers she's chosen to discount time and again. She even works in her medical studies and her insistence that the only reason she wanted to be a doctor was to help people.
I should print out small cards with this speech and just give them to her whenever she's being insufferably selfish. "Royalty should use their position for the sake of their people. Such egotism is an insult to your people."
What began in assertiveness ends in whining. I should have foreseen it, should have known her only motivation for anything these days, but hearing her scream, "But I love Allen!" as the one essential truth in the world stuns me.
Because I had believed that despite her age and tempestuous temperament, Millerna would still have the sense enough to know love from a crush. To know duty from desire. To not repeat my mistake of placing all of her life in the fragile heart of one man.
But how could she know? I've refused to teach her. I've told her *what* to do, but never why.
"I'm going. Goodbye, Sister."
She's through with me. She boards the boat and unties the thick ropes keeping it bound to the dock. With one word, I could keep her here. The guards might not reach her until she's gotten to the main canals, but they would get to her. They would bring her back, Father and I would take turns admonishing her, then she would be back at it again the next night.
Millerna was right. I can't stop her; I can only delay her. And in the process, damage beyond repair the relationship between us. I would make that sacrifice if it meant Millerna would be out of harm's way, but she's determined to put herself on that path. I can't say anything that will deter her.
So I say nothing at all. The boat floats away, creating a physical distance between my sister and I that pales to the emotional one that has existed for over a year. It's only after the fog has absorbed the vessel that I can speak again.
"Goodbye, Sister."
***
Author's Notes: Whoa! Y'all been reviewing your little butts off. My deepest apologies for going into sloth mode in response. Work's been ridiculous lately and a tired Aerika writes no chapters. Come on beginning of the year slack off! Anyway, I have done some stuff. The revisions to 'The Secret Life of a Girl' have begun. Just chapter one so far. To give you an idea of how much change will take place, I did even want to change all that much with the first chapter and it went from 1900 some words (unreal, isn't it?) to around 2700. Wait until I take a hatchet to chapters two and three, the ones I *really* want to revise. Find the revised chapter one at:
www.geocities.com/eriesariaaston/girl_1.html
The design of the Eries shrine has changed slightly and the long delayed Eries x Allen essay is finally up. Speaking of Allen, BFUM has been updated too with one gallery page added.
www.geocities.com/aerikas
Next up: Daddy/daughter bonding time in The Nursemaid's Tale. (I will have this out before Christmas. I will have this out before Christmas. I will, etc.)