Chapter Twelve

The night sky was bright and clear on the day of Queen Millerna's Coronation Ball. The light of the two moons in the sky filled the castle courtyard with cascading blue light. It shimmered delicately on the gowns of the court ladies as they exited their carriages, and it accented the yellow of the lanterns lit along the cobblestone pathways. Carriages were enqueued passed the palace gates, all the gay couples waiting to gain admittance into the celebration of their new queen.

One particular carriage, emblazoned with a particular family crest, bore the attention of many couples who passed by, its occupant hearing their whispers. He hid conveniently in the shadows and behind the royal blue curtains that hung in the small windows. He took the time to mull over the events as they would pass. It made him no less than nervous. Accepting the invitation to the ball was the only way he could get what he needed. His men, and maybe with the slightest glimmer of hope, his honor.

The mahogany carriage finally stopped at the front of the palace to let out its occupant. Carefully hooded and cloaked, the man's boot stepped down to the marble pathway. Quite promptly, a palace attendant came up to him, writing tablet and quill at the ready.

"You're name, sir?" asked the attendant.

The cloaked man shoved the decorative invitation into the man's hand and said in a clipped tone. "I do not wish to be announced."

"Sir, I'm afraid that's quite impossible." Began the attendant arrogantly.

"I was given the invitation, and Her Majesty knows I'm here." He turned his head and gazed coldly at the smaller man. "Do not announce me."

The attendant gave him a wide eyed stare before reacquiring his composure and bowing. "Of course, my lord." But his words were lost on the tail ends of the man's cloak as they flew by his downcast face.

As soon as he walked into the grand foyer, guards lined up along either side of the red velvet carpet, he had begun to doubt himself more than he had in the carriage whilst he heard whispers. The cloak he wore hid his identity well enough as long as he didn't stop bounding down the carpet and letting the guards under his former command catch a glimpse of his face. He sighed quietly to himself, however, when he came to the end of the hall and the coat check maid.

It would be rude for him, not to mention improper, to enter a formal event so cloaked as he was. The young maid behind the half-door division smiled pleasantly at him, happy to be serving such a tall, slim, and hopefully young nobleman. Her eyes were closed with that pleasant smile as she awaited for him to remove the cloak. And when he did so, she opened her eyes to peek at his face before he went on to join the festivities. She was not left wanting, as her eyes widened the very moment her gaze fell on the sad and beautiful face.

"Sir Allen Schez –…" But he hushed her, not in an unkindly way, cocking his head slightly and giving her a brief bow before moving on.

He ended at the top of the stairs, leading down into the ballroom. He used to join these events with a smile, and now he could only find himself as somber as the swallow leaving his home for the winter time. Allen took a deep breath, watching the women in their bright, shimmering gowns being twirled and turned by their handsome beaus to the tune of the current popular waltz. The orchestra itself took up most of the left side of the ballroom, so grand of an assembly of instrumentalists that it seemed the new queen wanted everyone within a two mile radius to be able to hear the music.

He used to love coming to events like this. How happy he was then, back when he was still captain of the guard and one of the elite Knight Caeli. The women fawning over him, his subtle rejections – sneaking a gaze towards Millerna, seated next to her Father King. Times were definitely much brighter then, and it wasn't so long ago that he felt so happy.

Even when his sister had come back to him, which turned his world almost completely upside down – even then, it seemed that things were better. Oh, he had dragged her to one or two of these balls, perhaps before she was really ready for crowds. Much like her brother, she did not go unnoticed by most of the eligible bachelors in the room. So many handsome, and some not so handsome, men were asking for a dance. Some even bravely approached Allen to ask for Celena to dance with them. But, as it was, he had ended up making excuses for her; weak ankles or "Thank you sir for the politeness of your invitation, however she had recently returned from a very long trip to Fanelia and I'm afraid she's a bit winded this evening. Perhaps next time."

"Careful." Came a voice from an uncomfortably close distance to Allen's ear. It was very familiar to him, and he immediately turned to see who spoke to him. The figure was cloaked, hooded, and her face hidden in the shadows of the hood. "You were smiling. People might get the wrong idea."

Allen ducked behind the pillar, safe in a place where the torches and candelabras did not reach with their obscene light. He had hidden in these outskirted pillared halls of the ballroom many times as a child, finding that only the occasionally invited noble children hid here. Or the young lovers seeking refuge in the shadows for that secret kiss on one of the many settees in marble alcoves.

"Princess!" he whispered harshly. The disguised princess sounded as if she yawned, before taking a seat directly across from his rigid figure.

"Not for much longer, I'm afraid." She replied. She grinned at how paranoid he looked, nearly plastered up against the marble pillar like Fanelian adobe. "I was hoping you would come. I hadn't heard anything from you or Celena since father died. And that was nearly – oh – two, three months ago?"

Allen nodded, somewhat detaching himself from the pillar, though still afraid to leave the safe shadow of it. "Much has happened. So much that it might be difficult to explain."

She removed the hood to reveal a reproachful look on her face. Taking a breath, she cocked her head. "I know what's happened."

"Not – that." Said Allen automatically.

"Oh." Answered the princess. She took another breath, to sigh, and gave Allen a sort of pouty look – one that used to work very well on him if she wanted something . . . intimate from him. "You look exquisite."

The former knight dropped his head and quickly gave himself a once-over. "Oh. Yes, thank you." He wasn't even paying attention to her usual signals. He was too occupied with trying to be diplomatic, while at the same time feeling dreadfully uncomfortable. Just being there with so many people – who knew who he was, no less – made his stomach twist into horrible knots.

"Allen, why don't you have a seat here." She patted the settee, "There's a nice cushy spot right here next to me."

Heat flushed into Allen's face, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment knitting his eyebrows. "I prefer to stand – princess."

Millerna gave a soft sigh again. "Fine, Allen. Have it your way then." Allen clenched his jaw.

"You're not used to being disobeyed, I know." He said quickly.

"Oh." Said the princess, her eyes wide and eyebrows high. "You do? Pray, Allen – what else do you know?" she waited for him to answer her, stood up quickly when there was no response. "Don't you remember that two years ago, Dryden left me? Left me to deal with this – this political mess? Since my father died, the entire economy has been suffering. The council has been getting little to nothing accomplished. They bicker, and argue, or so I can gather from behind closed doors. I'm a woman, and therefore not allowed inside. Oh, there is very little that you know of me, Allen. I've had suitors from Basram, assassination attempts from Cesario, diplomatic nightmares with Freid.

Everyone in the world insists that I'm not a mere figure head, but my council. I have no power, and all of the pressure and stress. Now, if you can make any sense of this, fill me in. But I won't bore you with details and I won't seek your help. I'm just – a little frustrated and needed to see a friendly face. But if that's too much for you, please let me know. I can still inform the guards of your necessary and immediate removal from my ballroom and my court."

Allen swallowed. Apparently, everyone's been a little stressed lately. "My sister has fled as well, Princess."

"And I thought you – What?" She had begun her sentence with the same anger that had welled up inside of her, before realizing his words and suddenly feeling – unprepared. "Celena has left your home? But – what happened?"

"I – pushed her too far, I think." He began sullenly, "These few months passed and I was selfish, and angry. . ."

"Who could blame you?" said Millerna sympathetically. Allen shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts swirling about in his mind, to find the right words.

"She left with the Fanelian Samurai Denevive. I know not exactly where but, please, Princess – I need . . ." But just then, trumpets sounded.

"Damn." The princess muttered the curse under her breath, throwing Allen a bit off guard when he heard. So the princess has gained some bad habits herself. "I need to make my entrance, now. We'll talk later." And she left quickly around the corner and ducked into another hallway.

Allen didn't have later – he needed things to be done now. Sooner, if at all possible. He would have no choice but to go through with his original plan. Peering around the pillar, careful to obscure his right side, he could see all the dancing couples stop their swirls and turns and face the grand staircase from which the Princess would emerge. Everyone, he could hear, gave sighs of excitement – and then of dismay when there was no princess.

The trumpets sounded again, just moments later, and slowly Millerna entered at the top of the stairs. Oh, she was a vision, alright. Beautiful and firm, so similar to Marlene. Similar but not the same. Still, the sight of her in her silver and white ball gown made Allen's aching heart cramp up. He wasn't even aware of his hand reaching the spot on his chest where it had pained him.

A light shimmer of sweat formed on Allen's brow as he watched the ceremony take place. The head cleric of Asturia, the same who married Millerna and Dryden, led the ritual – anointing Millerna's forehead with drop of Asturia's sea water, placing the scepter of the sea serpent in her hands, and finally placing the crown of the gold and silver entwining serpent onto Millerna's golden head. All with boring, traditional, and painfully old speeches in between.

"May the sea god Jeture bless all of us this day." Said the high cleric.

"Jeture's calm waves to you, brother of the sea." Said the crowd in a muddled cacophony, as was the appropriate response to the blessing.

Then Millerna stood from the ceremonial throne (a dreadfully uncomfortable thing with no practicality engineered into its design, thought the new Queen sourly), and spoke, "As Queen, blessed by Jeture to look after the needs of her people, it is tradition for me to dance our country's Coronation Waltz." She curtsied very carefully, the gold and silver crown still upon her head, and watched as all the eligible bachelors stepped forth from the crowd.

Millerna descended the stairs beautifully, a smile always on her face, but inwardly she was groaning and not really looking forward to dancing with so many strangers at all. Finally at the bottom of the red carpeted stair case, she looked at all the men she would have to dance with, but stopped and genuinely smiled when her eyes rested on her nephew – the seven year old Duke Chid of Freid.

"Duke Chid." She said, smiling and curtsied to him.

Allen, who was still watching from the safety of the shadows, gasped slightly. He was so used to pain, but this was almost more than he could bear. His own – his son would have to bear witness to the violence that took place here in Allen's country. The son who did not yet even know his true father. Allen cursed the world's cruelty, but let the scene continue.

"Queen Millerna." He responded with a bow, and a happy smile as well. "May I have the pleasure of a dance with Asturia's new queen?" Millerna, still smiling, nodded. The crowd of men made an abundance of room on the ballroom floor. Chid led his aunt, though she was taller than him by at least a foot and a half, and in the middle of the dance floor began to lead her in a waltz. He didn't do too bad for a seven year old.

"Tell me, Aunt Millerna," began Chid, still with a pleasant grin on his face, "Are things still going badly for you? You seemed angry yesterday. . ."

Millerna laughed, a bit nervously however. "Oh, that. It was nothing. Just the usual stress. I'm not used to coronations. I just sort of wound up with this job, you know?"

"I see." Responded Chid, giggling – but he didn't really understand his aunt's humor. Millerna sighed, inwardly again since any other way would have been rude.

"And your duchy, Chid? How are things there? It's been two years, are things finally rebuilt?"

Chid's sapphire eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, aunt Millerna. So many wonderful things have been rebuilt. The city, the palace – almost everything's just like at was. The only thing is – I've been so used to living at Fortuna Temple that . . ."

Millerna let Chid turn her, briefly breaking the contact of their hands to successfully do so. "What is it?" she asked, her tone conveying concern for her nephew.

"Well, I like the Temple – and I'm almost afraid to move back into the palace. So many memories there. And . . . father's not . . ." But the sad look on his face changed suddenly, to something more resolute and somewhat resembling the former Duke. "Never mind, aunt. It's nothing."

This change in Chid made his aunt worry. Truthfully, Eries was concerned by this as well. It was a transition that both sisters thought didn't belong in their gentle nephew, his parents – true parents – being inherently gentle people. A loud, brief clicking brought Millerna's thoughts back to the waltz. She looked up to see the high cleric giving her a stern look and tapping his staff against the marble floor to gain her attention.

"Aunt Millerna, what about Sir Allen? I heard news . . ."

"I'm sorry, Chid. I have to change partners. We can talk more later, okay?" The queen had no choice but to break contact and dance with the next gentleman that stepped up to her. She watched over the man's shoulder and Chid nodded, backing away to the rest of the crowd.

The next young man she danced with was somewhat younger than she, about 16. Of course, like the rest of the noble males of Asturia, he too had long hair. A brunette, with sad blue eyes. It reminded her of Dryden's eyes, suddenly – the way that he looked at her when he said those last words . . . before he left her.

"I'm not the man you deserve yet." He had said, after depositing the golden signet ring into Millerna's white cotton palm.

She had taken off her ring that day, too. Having stared down at the pair of gold bands through mysterious sparkling tears, she finally tucked them away into safe keeping. She didn't understand why she kept them. At the same time, she did not understand why she didn't keep them. By law, she had been married. She didn't think her advisors were sure on her marriage status either. It was all so sudden. The wedding was a catastrophe, having been attacked by Zaibach luck soldiers – Dryden getting hurt. The little time he spent as Asturia's Prince Reagent was beneficial, she thought. Battle plans for the up coming war were mostly what he argued over during the few meetings with the council.

So with all these confusions, the arrangements for the ball were made with some discretion and the ridiculous waltz for the single queen needed to be carried out.

"I'll make you fall for me. Because I love you." Foolish men with their pride and arrogance, thought the new queen. Her nose upturned at the thoughts of fleeting male egos, her posture automatically becoming sturdier. She gracefully waltzed and changed partners again, her face showing little regard for the nervousness of her partners. She was a stern, new queen, full of resolve, determination and beauty. Her arms were held out strongly to her dance partner, yet still politely letting the gentleman lead her. This one was a stout fellow, but her face was still cold and firm, not even scrunching her nose at how unbecoming the man's face was.

Tap, tap, tap went the cleric's staff on the marble, and another gentleman stepped up to waltz. It seemed like the waltz played faster with each new partner, as Millerna blocked out any sort of images that might distract her – images of a man who had finally proven to be not so arrogant. A man who was giving her time so that he could prove himself worthy of her love.

There was a pressure forming in Millerna's head, and she could tell that it wasn't the crown. Frustration was the vice upon which her emotions were held. She was trying so hard to overcome such a debilitating obstacle that she hardly noticed exactly who she was dancing with. Music filled her ears, her head, her heart – forcing it to form like coagulating jelly. Dancing and dancing, the ballroom twirled about her so. Five. Ten. Fifteen noble gentlemen of her court had turned her about if only for a moment to pay tribute to their new queen. She had never even counted how many men she danced with, so distracted was she with keeping her composure.

Tap, tap, tap and the next gentleman took her hand into his. He did not put his hand gently on the curve of her richly decorated waist, so as to lead her, however. He moved just the same and Millerna suddenly staggered to keep up. It all happened very quickly, and Millerna finally focused on Allen's face.

"I have a favor to ask of you." Said the nobleman frankly, not at all surprised by the stunned expression on the queen's face. He was impressed, however on a miniscule level, that she managed to keep to the steps of the waltz even when he lacked an arm to lead her.

"A favor?" she managed through her shock. Allen quirked his eyebrow, turning her gracefully upon the ballroom floor. He brought her back to him, close enough to whisper to her.

"I need my men." He said quickly into her ear. "To crew my airship."

Millerna didn't even know what to think, much less how to respond to such a request. Her hand was on Allen's right shoulder, and she pushed just slightly to put some distance between them. Then she felt something being pressed into her right hand.

"Their names." Allen explained.

"A-Allen." Began the flabbergasted queen, "I don't if I . . ."

"You can. You will. You owe me and my family that much." His eyes spoke true of his words. There was hurt and betrayal there. A look that shot daggers into Millerna's heart in less time than the beating of a hummingbird's wings. How it made her ache. Her face softened, her lips pursed . . . she gripped the parchment note into her hand with sudden determination.

"I will do what I can, Sir Allen Schezar." Said the queen.

Allen bowed, "By tomorrow, I trust." Before Millerna could even protest (or curtsey in return), he stepped back into the crowd and was taken by yet another random gentleman. The noble, hardly over the age of 18, led her with more confidence than was necessary. She was turned about, and found herself looking over her shoulder towards where the former knight disappeared into the crowds. The room spinned, and chandeliers sparkled with numerous candle light, but Allen – it seemed – was already gone.

Millerna, as Asturia's new queen, had a feat ahead of her. But he had been right. For doing his duty and saving an alliance, she would do as he requested. She just wasn't sure if the real powers that were would let her do it.

Allen deftly dodged the crowds of people still watching the queen being turned upon the marble floor. He didn even look back, trusting that she would do what he asked, relying upon her guilt. Strange, how those gruesome events eventually came to his aid. Millerna being such a steadfast woman would not let him down, nor ask questions as to why he requested his former crew. He was thankful for their friendship and alliance.

But now he had a different purpose. He followed a golden head swimming through the crowds to the garden entrance. The glass doors were already open, leading out into the mazes of hedges and rose bushes. The chill air struck him in the face and made him shiver. Still, he looked about the moonlit creepers.

Just as he saw the glint of a subltle silver crown, he took a step but was quickly intercepted. Eries, Princess of Astura and elder sister to the Queen, deftly stepped in front of the one-armed knight. Her white gloved hand gently held up to stop him. Allen was surprised for only a second, gazing at the white-haired Princess with a brief moment of rage.

Her expression was stern, however, and she would not allow him to pass.

"You must leave him alone," she said to him softly. His anger forgotten, Allen found himself absently looking down upon Eries light blue gown of shimmering silk, his eyes falling to the regalia emblazoned upon the silver baldric she wore across her chest.

Eries brought her hand to his, in sympathy as she saw the fallen knight battle with emotions inside of him.

"He is my son," he said brokenly, staring at the cracked garden tiles below their feet, his brow furrowed pensively. "He looks up to me and I have failed him."

"The time will come, Allen Schezar, to tell him of his heritage. But now you must let him grief for his hero." Eries vivid sapphire orbs gazed upon Allen deeply, misting and glassy as she saw Allen's turmoil. He closed his eyes and clenched her hand. He was still a hero to someone. And so he shall continue to be one.

"Thank you, Eries." he said finally, straightening forceably and releasing her hand. His expression was now stoic, but his eyes still betrayed his heart. Tears brimmed there in the cornflower depths, but Eries said nothing and only watched him leave.

After he had gone, Eries looked up towards the bright stars and shining moons of the Gaean sky.

"Good luck, Sir Allen Schezar." she whispered. She then turned and sought to console the distraught Duke of Freid.

A/N: Does anyone even remember this story anymore? I wonder if anyone even cares about it? But who am I kidding. It's a vague premise using an even more obscure cast. All I can say is, thank you so much to all those loyal readers. I'm experimenting with "Just writing" . . . instead of spending two hours thinking about how to write a paragraph. I just write it. Pretty good, huh?

If you love me, you'd tell me, right? Can I have a review, please? And maybe some gum, if you have it...