A Quick Note On Chapter Numbering:

On 24 Sept 2022, I added the Foreword. This means that all the chapters were pushed up a number. So now Chapter 8 is labeled Chapter 9 in navigation. Please note that reviews made by that date refer to the the actual chapter number. So reviews for this chapter made by 24 Sept would be labeled Chapter 8, but after 25 Sept they'll be Chapter 9. I'm sorry for the confusion.

A/N This chapter surprised me. The council room scene was something I had in mind but didn't want to attempt when I wrote the original story, but this story wouldn't be complete without it. It did not go how I expected.

Also, please note that after finishing this chapter, I realized Chapter 2 needed some serious reworking, so that's been completely re-edited. Hopefully it flows better with the Van and Hitomi of these later chapters. Sorry.

Please comment and tell me what you think. I have no idea if you like this story unless you comment or Fav or Follow. So for like the dozens of readers out there, let me know. Thanks!

Update: this has been further revised.

I don't own Escaflowne, and the foundation for this story was inspired by Suilsaifir.

No song inspiration for this one.

Chapter 8: King and Queen

The change in Van's demeanor was complete by the time they stepped out of their room, when his jaw set, his shoulders squared, his stride lengthened. Hitomi could only do her best to match him somewhat in deportment as they walked together to council.

The shift hadn't been instantaneous. It had begun as soon as he handed her the clothes from the maid. As she dressed with just a little help from him, it was as if he were putting on his mantle of king as well. However, in between mentions of the affairs of war, of the logistics of troop movement, of requesting aid for Fanelia, she had caught him gazing at her, his eyes furtive, his eyebrows furrowed. She would smile at him, and he would press his lips together and look away–as if he were embarrassed, as if he didn't know what to do with the eye contact, as if he hadn't spent most of the last twelve hours staring at her.

Hitomi could only shake her head in private amusement.

His discretion didn't bother her. Separating their public relationship from their private relationship was only proper. What would she do with a husband who clung to her in public as he had during breakfast, especially before other officials? It would have been more than her maturing diplomacy could handle. She'd rather their relationship be kept private, secret, sacred.

Van held the door for her as they entered the council room together, but he kept his distance. Once they were seated around the large table, the meeting started and the plans that hadn't been finalized yesterday were on the agenda for today.

Dryden, Van, and Chid were discussing present battalion preparations when Hitomi first noticed Allen glaring at her across the table with icy eyes. He flicked them to Van with a subtle sneer. The hair on her neck prickled, putting her senses on alert.

They'd met a couple years ago, when he had been studying strategy with her father's battalion. His unusual height combined with statuesque, light features and striking blue eyes had caught her eye, to put it mildly. Whether the attraction had been mutual was still unclear to her, but he'd taken advantage of her innocent crush, flattered her, and given her a sloppy first impression of kissing.

But she never left his company without feeling less than herself. It wasn't until he brought up marriage—not so subtly hinting that they could live in a home gifted by her parents, wherein she could bring up an endless string of children—that she had felt a stirring of dread. She had ended the relationship directly. His reaction, unfortunately, had been to spread rumors about her among her father's men. As soon as General Kanzaki caught word of it, he wasted no time arranging Allen's dismissal and sending him away dishonorably. Somehow, however, the scoundrel still managed to gain knighthood under Dryden. Hitomi suspected he'd done some favors to someone somewhere.

For now, she did her best to focus on the council—primarily by taking notes—but on instinct, she tensed every time Allen stirred or made a pointed comment.

It wasn't until a chance meeting of Van's eyes that she relaxed somewhat. He and Dryden were setting a time to inspect the troops and levi-ships in the afternoon. All eyes were on them, but Allen caught hers with a subtle but vulgar gesture with his fingers. Hitomi turned away disgusted and Van noticed the movement. Without skipping a beat in the discussion, he gave her a quick once over to check that she was okay before turning back to Dryden again. Even just that brief contact with him cleared her mind and freed her lungs, and her shoulders relaxed.

Her husband was the opposite of Allen and what she had typically found attractive. Average height, stocky build, an abundance of pitch black hair, and brown eyes had not always been her idea of handsome. Nevertheless, he had in him a latent energy and a deep expressiveness that showed best when he was unguarded, something she had rarely seen, until now.

The night she had officially met him at his gala, he had impressed her–and not in a good way–with his stone-faced, disinterested behavior towards all his eligible guests. It was curious behavior considering this was his gala and he was the host. Still, because of her dreams, she'd watched him when she could, noticing that as he danced with those she considered the most charming young ladies, he remained unmoved. The more some of the ladies flirted, the worse he looked, and Hitomi couldn't help wondering what it was that made him so averse to such behavior. He certainly looked comfortable enough dancing when it was with a dowager or some general's wife.

Perhaps, she had concluded, he didn't like being flirted with. Hitomi had then determined that when she danced with him– and Fanelian dances could be long– she would not smile nor lose control of her tongue, but she would speak with him as she would anyone else.

It did not go as planned.

Instead, when he stepped to her and held out his hand to collect her, a giddy nervousness had prickled across her skin as she recognized a moment from one of her dreams. Her father was a stern, stoic man, and King Van was only a fraction less intimidating than he, so Hitomi chided herself, telling herself she ought to be used to this disposition.

But her tongue betrayed her.

All but stumbling over her barely rehearsed dance steps, she did what she had sworn not to do and began telling him whatever stories came to mind. She commented on a tapestry, compared it to a story from her childhood, described how she botched the customary Fanelian greeting with one of his ministers, segued somehow to gushing about the beautiful Fanelian Mountains, before telling him about swimming in her favorite spring in the hills behind her home. To top it off, she'd excused her clumsy dancing by explaining that her Fanelian dance instructor had been her ancient nursemaid, and she hadn't practiced her steps in years.

Through it all, Van's stoniness had slowly altered to what she would, in retrospect, identify as courtly neutrality before shifting into something else. She didn't realize until later, after her time with him had ended and the expression was altogether gone as he danced with another, but with her, the edges of his face had softened, his lips had almost curled pleasantly, and his eyes might have flashed when he glanced at her.

It wasn't until after the dance, when he'd guided her stealthily outside into the wintry garden, that she finally gained control over her tongue. She could still recall how the icy air had cooled her warm skin just before the nervous realization that the king had escorted her outside. Outside, where they were alone and away from the crowd. Hitomi had tried to remain poised as they walked, even while Van fidgeted with his collar, and though he held her arm, he wouldn't look at her. They'd stepped onto a little bridge before he finally spoke, and of all the things he could say, he had the audacity to thank her for not talking anymore.

Aghast, Hitomi had pulled away and asked him if he made it a point to tell all his female guests he preferred them silent. His returning expression held such artless astonishment—his apology inelegant and almost amusing— that she was quite caught off guard. Such behavior was unlike the king she'd heard him to be, and—as he clarified that he had rather meant that he appreciated that she knew she didn't always have to talk around him—she found for the first time that brown eyes could be rather charming. At least his could be when he wasn't hiding behind his wall of stoicism.

Now she watched her husband running the war council and couldn't help but admire his poise and notice that he almost seemed happy now, almost hopeful, in spite of the purpose for the meeting. Others might not see it. It was an expression not dissimilar to the one he had as they danced, that enigmatic smile hidden in the corners of his mouth and eyes.

Of course, it wasn't like the smile he had for her now in private, the one that left her insides warm and twisting. That one had the power to bend her to his will, to convince her to share her private secrets–and her body–with him. Unconsciously, as she thought about his smile last night, she reclined a little in her seat, her hand lifting to her throat as her skin burned.

"Cousin, you're looking flushed," Chid said next to her, distracting her from her fantasies. "Are you feeling well?"

Hitomi sat up as she met Van's alert eyes. Now he would be concerned for her. Or would he read her flustered countenance for what it was?

"I'm sure Queen Hitomi is feeling her absolute best this morning," Dryden said, leaning onto his elbow with a teasing, dreamy look in his eyes.

If she thought she had been feeling warm earlier, her skin now prickled with heat. Her mouth went dry even as she gaped at the other king and did her best to remain sitting tall when she really wanted to shrink under the table. Her hand gripped her throat and she heard the creak of leather as Van stiffened in his seat next to her.

"Indeed, she looks radiant," Millerna said, her voice pitched a little high. "It's a marvel what sleep and a bath can do for a woman."

Before Hitomi could so much as smile in gratitude at Millerna's effort to diffuse the situation, other knights and generals in the room, most of whom she hadn't met before, chimed in so quickly she barely had time to register where the verbal shots came from.

"I doubt she slept that good."

"King Van looks well taken care of, that's for sure."

"You think he'd be exhausted."

"They almost look like lovers. So different from yesterday."

"They must've had such a magical night."

Even Chid joined in with an innocent remark, "I do think you look happy today, Cousin."

Hitomi rubbed her forehead in exasperation, hoping to catch Van's eye from her periphery. She knew he was careful about what he said, that he often waited to react, and she could tell by his hunched shoulders and clenched fist that he was wound up by this teasing.

Then Allen snorted, drawing her attention away. He was leaning towards the knight next to him, opposite the other side of the table from Chid, so what he said came clearly to her ear—though she doubted Van heard it—as he muttered the words "pig" and "king" along with a rather rude vulgarity.

She could guess his implication. He'd tried ruining her reputation before. This awareness, combined with all the other comments, stirred the simmering heat of her mortification, ignited within her a flame of anger, burning her hands, feet, and face. Her body tensed, and she crushed the quill in her hand.

"Shaezar, if you have something rude to say about me or my husband, please have the guts to say it aloud like everyone else," she said as she leveled a glare around the table. Most of the men looked away.

Allen scoffed. "Fanel must be so tongue-tied his wife has to speak for him," he said.

Before Van could respond, Hitomi turned back to face Allen, leaning over the table. The broken quill cut into her fisted hand. "I speak for myself, Shaezar, and what I say now is that my husband has far better mastery over his tongue than you've ever had."

Allen's eyes narrowed, and she held them so he caught her meaning.

"Moreover," she continued. "I chose his over yours." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Need I remind you that your impotent tongue was the reason you left Freid, so unless you'd like to submit yourself for further disgrace, you'd do well to keep your mouth shut."

Though her entire body shook, Hitomi held herself as proudly as she could and prayed that Van wouldn't be angry at her for her not so subtle implication about his kissing. She'd heard him shift but couldn't look at him, didn't want to see the evidence that she'd embarrassed him publicly for the second day in a row. Instead, she glared over at Allen as he seethed, red-faced, in his seat.

The silence stretched as everyone sat frozen, their wide eyes darting from Hitomi to Van to Allen, until King Dryden's jovial laugh cut through the heavy atmosphere.

"Hitomi, you've got a helluva tongue yourself," he said, and a few others agreed.

"Damn," Gaddes swore. "That'll probably shut him up better than your husband slamming him into the wall did yesterday."

Like a cool spray of water, Gaddes' words extinguished her anger as her eyes bounced from Allen to Gaddes to Van with wide, questioning eyes. Her husband was sitting back in his chair, one ankle on a knee, his hands clasped tightly on his lap, his face hard, defiant, and inscrutable. Admittedly, she had no idea what he was thinking.

Allen had been rude to her yesterday, before she fainted, before Van carried her to his room and left her. Something must have happened after that, either while she ate lunch or while she slept. Whatever it was must've really set her husband off if he'd been violent with Allen. The prig likely deserved it, though. If she had to guess, he had been taking out his grudge against her on her husband.

So when Van's response to her unspoken question was a subtle lift of his chin and the tiniest lifting of one eyebrow, she understood and sent him the faintest of conspiratorial smirks in reply before turning back to the council.

Van spoke up. "If everyone is finished wasting time," he began, his voice biting through the awkward air in the room, "I have a country to avenge and eventually rebuild."

More than a few of the men around the table scratched their necks or faces sheepishly.

He sat forward and gestured to Hitomi. "My wife and Queen," Van began sternly, emphasizing her title, "traveled eleven days to bring us information that can help us win this war. Today she has come to make a request of aid for our people. I request," he said, pausing, "that you give her the respect she deserves." Then, sitting back, he motioned for Hitomi to take over.

This was something they'd discussed earlier and one reason Van had wanted her to come. She sucked in a centering breath and stood, her body still trembling from the rush of telling off Allen. "Thank you, Van" she said quietly, doing her best to hold herself with dignity. "While you make a joke of us, our people are dying," she reminded them before saying more calmly, "We need food and basic supplies for the coming winter."

And so she explained, she requested, she bargained, and over the course of the next hour or so, they developed a list of food and supplies for the coming winter that Hitomi would accompany on the first levi-ship Dryden and Millerna could make available.

At the end of the discussion, Hitomi's head spun and her legs wobbled with the relief and hope she felt for her people. With a trembling hand, she sat and wrote a few notes with Van's quill while everyone began leaving for lunch.

Millerna came to her side and sat gingerly on Chid's abandoned chair. "I'm so glad you'll be staying for a couple days, Hitomi. It will be nice to get to know you better."

She smiled up at the other queen. "Thank you for your hospitality," Hitomi said, before glancing at Van, who was speaking quietly with Chid a few steps away. "It's very nice to be here."

Millerna's eyes briefly followed hers before meeting Hitomi's again. "It's my pleasure," she said slowly, her eyes crinkling with a knowing smile. "Do you need more clothes or anything else?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"No, thank you. What you've provided will suffice while I'm here." Hitomi refrained from mentioning the nightclothes.

"Please call for me. When the men leave, you will be quite lonely," she said, her feminine hand gripping her shoulder as she stood.

Unable to speak for the sudden tightness in her throat, Hitomi nodded and did her best to smile as the other queen excused herself.

Chid was exiting and Van waited, arms folded, eyebrows drawn, eyes flashing, first at her and then at nothing in particular. She hurriedly gathered her things and stood, only for blackness to swallow her vision and her head to spin. She pressed one palm into the table as her knees nearly buckled.

A strong hand gripped her other arm. "Hitomi?"

She turned to him before her sight even returned. Eventually, the darkness drained from her vision and Van's face came into focus. "I'm fine, Van. I just stood up too fast," she said dismissively.

He scanned her, his lips pressed together, and shook his head. "You need to rest," he said firmly, tucking her hand into his elbow. "I'll escort you to the room."

His arm was warm and tan against her cold, pale hand. "What about lunch?" she asked.

"I've arranged for Chid to have lunch sent to our room," he said without looking at her.

She almost asked why but didn't have the energy—between her exertions at the meeting, a long, active night, and her days of traveling, she truly did feel worn out—and so she leaned on his arm and left the council room. He kept a steady pace as he focused ahead of them.

Hitomi felt the tension of his muscles, saw it in the set of his eyes and jaw, and wondered if he was upset with her about her comment to Allen. Had they been alone, she might have asked, but they weren't yet, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer anyway. Her skin prickled ominously and her breath quickened, and she clung harder to him for light-headedness, focusing on the floor ahead.

When they finally came to the long hallway where their room was located, the tension in her chest became too much. She forced a cheerful tone, saying, "I don't think I could have found our room on my own."

He hummed curtly but kept walking.

Unable to stop herself, she said, "This is a lovely palace. It's funny the city is also named Palas, just spelled differently. Have you ever wondered where they got this stone for the buildings? I'm guessing it's marble, I'm not sure, but it's amazing the whole place is made of it, don't you think? Have you heard they can host balls on the rooftop?"

Eyeing her sidelong, he still stepped resolutely towards their room. They were doors away. Hitomi's muscles tightened. She halted, forcing him to stop.

"You know what? I'd like to see the roof," she said with a strained smile.

He narrowed his eyes at her as she continued to ramble, but she looked away to scan up and down the hall for a door to the stairway. "I bet you can see the ocean. And the windmills. I walked past the windmills yesterday morning. They'd be nice to see from here. Shall we go to the roof now?" she asked, her voice tight.

Van's response was to sigh emphatically, eyes raised as his chest deflated. He let go of her and stepped to the door.

Hitomi hadn't realized how much she'd been leaning on him until he'd removed his support and she was obligated to lean against the cold marble wall.

Sending her a pointed look, he said, "Hitomi, you need to rest." He opened the door, "I'll take you to the roof later."

Hitomi waited for another member of the war council to pass by before turning to Van with a stubborn lift to her chin. "Oh, I'm fine," she said. "You're mad at me anyway. Can you show me how to get to the roof now?"

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows lifting. "Mad?" He shook his head in exasperation before leveling a serious look at her. "Hitomi," he said, tossing his hand in her direction, "I've been watching the blood drain from your face for the last hour. You're shaking, and you can barely stand." He took a step closer, dropping his chin and pressing his lips together. "I'm not mad, I just know you need to rest."

Hitomi swallowed through her dry throat, feeling a prick of shame as she looked at him again, this time finding stress and concern instead of anger. Was she really so bad at reading him, or was he very good about hiding his true feelings? And was he really that observant? "Oh," she said, feeling rather small. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, his eyes soft. "Go lay down."

She stepped slowly past him into their room, letting her fingers run along the smooth marble. Motivated by her mortification, she stepped with a little more energy into the washroom to refresh herself.

In the mirror, her face was indeed pale, and her hands shook as she splashed her face. A nap did sound pretty nice. She removed her boots and gave her tired feet a quick splash in the tub.

Van was standing, arms folded, staring out the window, but he turned towards her when she exited the washroom. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Wrapping her arm around the bedpost, she slid to sitting on the foot of the bed. "Tired," she said.

He dropped his arms and stepped to her, more subdued than she expected him to be.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said. "You're not angry with me?"

"No," he scoffed.

"Why were you angry, then?" she asked, her voice and face lifting as she watched him come closer.

"Because our private life is none of their business," he said bitterly, the bed shifting as he joined her.

"That was a bit brutal," she agreed.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face.

"Did I embarrass you then?" she ventured to ask as she watched for his reaction.

He blinked rapidly in thought before looking up at her through his hair. "You just spent over an hour speaking on behalf of Fanelia, and you want to know if you embarrassed me?"

She leaned back into the cushion of curtains bunched against the bedpost. "By what I said to Allen," she reminded him.

"Oh that," he said with a snort. "I take it you had a prior relationship with him?" he asked nonplussed.

Hitomi scanned the room, searching for her words and hoping Van wasn't the jealous kind. "Unfortunately," she began. "He trained with my father's army a few years ago. After I rejected him, he started spreading rumors about me, so my father had him dismissed."

Van nodded, eyebrows high. "That explains a lot, actually," he said with a little exhale.

"So I gathered. I'm sorry."

"I can handle the bastard. It's…," his voice trailed off and Hitomi caught a glimpse of his eyes watching her before he looked away. He sighed and let his head drop into his hands.

She thought she recognized his despondency for what it was. It was based on much more than Allen's stupid insults, and probably had to do with their ending discussion at the table, when she laid out the problems of the people and land he couldn't see.

Her heart began to ache for him, a physical pain that made her want to cover him in her arms. Van was a king alone in the world, aside from her. He'd lost nearly everyone important to him. While he had held it together at the meeting, dealing with insults, jibes, discussion of war, logistics of planning, and concerns for their people, in here, with her, he was letting his guard down.

If anyone could understand him, it ought to be her. Not just because she was his wife, but she was queen to his king, of his country and his people– a country and people they both fought for in different ways. He wasn't alone. He had her. It was a heavy mantle to bear, but they had each other.

Heart pounding in her ears, she gave in to the itching desire to touch him and provide what comfort she could. Lifting her shaking hand to grip around his nearest bicep, she pulled herself closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into the soft muscle of his shoulder. He shivered before turning his head to touch hers.

What could she say to him that wouldn't sound trite? Her groggy mind had used itself up in the hallway and could dredge up nothing, so she just closed her eyes, breathed in his warm scent as his black hair brushed her face, and let herself relax.

Her mind was just sinking into a comfortable numbness when he jostled her with a gentle shrug of his shoulder.

"Hitomi, you need to lie down," he said when she lifted her head drowsily.

Blinking at him in mock offense, she said, "I was falling asleep on your very comfortable shoulder, thank you."

"Yes, I know, but you need to lie down to sleep," he said, amused.

"Only if I have your shoulder," she said, aware of how petulant she sounded. "I was comfortable there." She fingered the hem of his sleeve as she rested against him again. "Besides," she continued with a little more solemnity, "you need some rest, too, before you go out to inspect things with Dryden."

Hitomi was surprised when he nodded and kicked off his boots without argument. When he pulled her back against the pillows with him, she curled contentedly into his shoulder, and, wrapped in his arms, she fell directly into a comfortable sleep.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"King Van!" a voice shouted from the hallway.

Hitomi jerked awake alongside Van, and, startled, they blinked at one another.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Dryden's waiting for you!" the voice called out again.

Van moaned, knuckling his eyes, and pulled out of her arms to roll off the bed. Feeling colder, she sat up a bit, head heavy with sleep, and watched him stumble to open the door.

"Oh, good, you're dressed," said the man who had brought the soup yesterday. "When I saw your lunch on the floor, I thought perhaps you two were busy, if you know what I mean."

She could only see the back of Van's head, but he was rubbing his face. "Yeah, shut up," he said impatiently. "We were napping." He bent to pick up their lunch tray. "Tell Dryden I'll be down in five minutes."

"Whatever you say, your majesty," he said.

Turning with the tray in his hands, Van kicked the door shut in the man's grinning face and dropped their lunch on the table before digging around in his trunk and taking a few items into the washroom.

Hitomi's head pounded and the floor tilted as she followed his movement around the room, so she fell back onto the pillows and stared at the wall, wishing she had the energy to go with him.

A couple minutes later, Van came out the washroom door wearing his blue military trousers, his black hair dripping onto his shoulders.

"Are you going to eat your lunch?" she asked as she propped herself up on an elbow while he dug around his trunk again.

He stood and glanced up at her, his uniform tunic in his hands. "No, I'm fine. Go ahead and eat my share." He slipped it on and picked up his sword and scabbard.

"Van, you need to eat, too."

"You've lost weight from your travels. You need it more than I do," he said as he buckled his sword around his hips.

Hitomi blamed exhaustion as her eyes began to burn and her breath hitched. "Don't be silly, Van," she said tightly, repeating his name for emphasis. "I can't eat all that. Please just take something."

Perhaps he heard the emotion she was trying to hide, but, eyeing her as he stepped into his boots, he relented. He tossed a couple bites of cut fruit into his mouth, chewing as he gathered a couple things and slung a bag over his shoulders.

"We should be back around sunset," he said briskly as he opened the hall door, but he didn't leave. He had paused and was staring hard at the door frame. Hitomi was just about to ask what caught his eye when he abruptly turned on his heel and strode towards the bed.

She was too distracted admiring his figure in uniform as he came closer: how he stepped with more self-assurance in those boots, the way the belted tunic emphasized the breadth of his shoulders compared to his waist, the sinews of his hands and arms. He was almost looming over her by the time she turned her face up and noticed the intent, burning look in his eyes.

She didn't have time to prepare herself–didn't even have the time to properly blush in anticipation– as he curled his hand around the back of her neck and lifted her. He bent and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. With a little noise of surprise, she gathered her senses to kiss him back, parting her mouth to taste a hint of tart fruit on his lips. When he pulled away, she gazed a little breathlessly into his cinnamon eyes before he slid his hand from her hair, straightened, and retreated without so much as a word.

She fell back against the pillows, fingering her lips. Water from his hair had dropped onto her face and chest, cooling her now as she lay basking in the warmth he'd left behind.

It was the first time he'd ever cared about parting from her.

And it was but a taste of the goodbye to come tomorrow.

As the echo of the slamming door faded from her mind, the now vacant silence of their room grew along with an ache in her chest. She pressed her stinging eyes closed. Tonight he would return, but when he left in the morning, who knows when she'd see him next?

Curling into herself, she let her burning tears fall unhindered until the soothing stupor of sleep overtook her.

A/N

Would anyone be interested in a bonus chapter about the gala? There's so much more I want to detail. I might do it anyway, but it's nice when people express interest. Thanks!