A/N: Long time no read! It took a minute because real life and the holidays were demanding my time. Hopefully, this chapter is good for a few laughs. As always, thank you very much for sticking with the story and for all the reviews! You are awesome!
In other news, this story has a beta now. After a while of reading my stories, OfSilverRaindrops decided to make an account and offer her services. At my current speed, she will be caught up with the older chapters soon, methinks. I'll be updating the revised versions as they are completed. I'm super stoked to have someone to polish up my grammar, so a huge 'Thank You' in advance!
[Edit 03/05/19: This chapter has been beta-red. Thank you so much, friend!]
Anyway, without further ado, I present to you the next chapter.
King of Anything
Act 1, Chapter 4
In which Dilandau shrugs and Yukari says "Wait a minute."
Dilandau loped through the deserted hallways of the Fanelian palace, down into the catacombs deep in the heart of the mountain it was built upon. Many facilities necessary for the defense and operation of the palace were located down there: Ancient and modern armament, boiler rooms, laundry facilities, storage, the works.
Some of the areas were modern, featuring metal doors and keypads for security. Others, like the familiar hallway he was walking down, looked more like film locations from historical movies. The stone floor was uneven and wrought-iron fixtures held torches as long as a person's arm.
Oh, how Dilandau missed Zaibach sometimes. It'd been a while since Adelphus Gain, the Zaibachian economical attaché he worked for, and him had traveled home. Zaibach was more advanced than Fanelia in every aspect except for its location in the most barren wasteland this side of Gaea. That's why its technology had developed faster; not much to do out there but think up crazy science stuff.
The remote location of the capital and its massive need for energy to power all the tech was the only reason they depended on Fanelia so much- because the kingdom was camping out on the only steady supply of drag energists.
If it wasn't for that, he wouldn't be stuck here. If it wasn't for that, Gain probably wouldn't have taken a much younger Dilandau away from his home country just because he needed an errand boy for his dirty work. The old fart hadn't anticipated back then that Dilandau would grow up to be so useful in the office and too smart to keep picking up the dry cleaning.
But back to the superiority of Zaibach and the shortcomings of Fanelia. In Zaibach, buildings were modern all over and not patched together, trying to desperately preserve some past history. Even Old Town Fanelia, the area immediately around the palace, was laughably underdeveloped. The streets were so narrow that no vehicle could pass through, and people had to walk to get from A to B. Zaibach had overcome the limitations of their historical city center by installing a monorail. Why didn't Fanelia do anything like that?
Everything here was just so old-fashioned and…underwhelming. Even the half-open, heavy wooden door he was pushing on was distressed by age and slightly rotten in some spots, creaking in its rusty hinges.
"What an honor to be summoned by his supreme highness." Dilandau feigned awe as he stepped into the large room. Its stone walls were bare apart for more torch fixtures. Trickles of slick wetness seeped from the cracks closest to the vaulted ceiling as moisture from the earth behind and above it made its way through. It reeked of mold too. Nothing had changed.
The echo of his steps was tossed around the room, eventually fading as he came to a stop across from the dark-haired king.
"Don't call me that," Van growled with obvious impatience.
The king and him weren't strangers to each other. Dilandau had been around for quite a while, seen what a toll the loss of Van's family had taken on him even in later years, and witnessed many a mood swing. They weren't friends, but men of the same age who harbored a natural, mutual disdain for each other.
"Well, what would you prefer, your majesty? Dragon king or homeslice?" Dilandau suggested.
"Van will do just fine," he responded quickly before Dilandau could continue. There wasn't a single encounter he remembered where the fair-haired Zaibachian hadn't grated on his nerves.
"As you wish," Dilandau offered him a sloppy curtsy. He'd never behave like this if there were other people around. Dilandau was many things but dumb was most definitely not on that list. The Fanelian king had sent for him in an urgent but discrete way, and it was likely that nobody even knew where the king presently was or whom he was meeting with. Those thoughts intrigued him.
"If you wanted to hang out, we could have just met in one of the sitting rooms. At least there's liquor. The gods know we need some social lubricant to chat."
"Cut the crap and grab a weapon," Van shot back without much ado, a hand resting on the pommel of the royal sword strapped to his hip, the thumb slowly turning the golden ring affixed to its end.
Dilandau shrugged, palms up. "Sure wish I'd known you called me here to play. I'd have put on something comfier too."
While Van wore sweatpants, a T-shirt, and sneakers, Dilandau was dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. He chuckled and turned to face a weapons display on the side, appraising the collection at his disposal.
Not having warned Dilandau about the nature of this meeting required a certain degree of ruthlessness. The king wasn't always as noble as people believed. Dilandau savored that thought for a moment and filed it away for future reference.
While Van regarded him with an unsympathetic expression, Dilandau shrugged. "Buuuut, oh well. Can't say no to an old friend, can I? It's been a long time since we last sparred."
"This will do," he announced after a minute.
The decision was easy. After all, he knew how to fend for himself too.
For a few years, Dilandau and Van had both gotten lessons from Balgus. Gain had asked for it after Dilandau was beginning to become restless, and Balgus had complied for the sake of the poor orphaned boy with the strict master.
But as his students' sparring sessions became more intense and close cuts at serious injuries happened far too frequently, that came to an end rather swiftly.
The sword he chose was similar in style to Van's- a blade with a handle long enough to be wielded with two hands. It sang as he pulled it from its sheath, which made his mouth curve up on one side.
Likewise, Van caught himself taking a bit of savage delight in the way his fingers curled around the royal sword's handle. Dilandau began to swing the borrowed sword in lazy circles to warm up his joints and test its balance. When satisfied, he jerked his chin up briefly to indicate that he was ready.
Tick tock, time to rock.
There was no need for words anymore when steel first clanked against steel. Ducking away from one swing, Dilandau parried the next, then took two steps back, followed by one step forward, an attack, and an abrupt stop when Van blocked in return.
While everything was fairly balanced in the beginning, the growing intensity behind Van's strikes soon wiped the smug grin off Dilandau's face. This was more than just a sparring match. Dilandau took a few steps to the side to catch his breath and reset. He hadn't expected Van to dive in as he was.
He'd made a miscalculation; a mistake he certainly wouldn't repeat again. Dilandau watched Van as he stood not far away, glowering, but allowing Dilandau to finish realizing what was happening. At least the king had the decency to be fair and let him adjust his expectations about this outing.
It was quite obvious that Van had some sort of frustration he needed to vent. He was known for being intense, but usually everything he did was calculated and well thought-out. In this case, however, he appeared different- almost emotional. It was like the anger was directed specifically at Dilandau himself.
That thought intrigued him. He parried a strong, two-handed strike and then side-stepped to return the favor with a few less forceful, faster attacks of his own. Even though they were about equal in height, Van was slightly heavier and stronger, but Dilandau was faster and more agile which gave him an advantage at the moment.
His opponent successfully blocked the strikes. Dilandau hadn't expected anything less from Van. Really, it'd have been disappointing if the king hadn't been able to keep up after dishing out those hefty blows earlier. After all, knowing what they each were capable of had always made it possible for them to play around without multiple layers of protective gear. Like they were dancing to the tune of the same song even when pitted against each other.
It was Van's turn to take the offensive again, and Dilandau whistled when his adversary slashed through the fabric of his sleeve with the very tip of his sword, missing pale flesh by the width of a hair.
"Seems like you're holding a grudge for some reason," Dilandau chuckled.
Van's eyes narrowed when steel clashed against steel, both their faces inches apart and separated only by their blades crossed between them. Van refrained from responding. Either the reason didn't matter as much as the satisfaction of retribution ,or he just didn't want Dilandau to know.
There were two things one ignored. Things that weren't important and things that one wished weren't important. Which one was it, though?
"Seriously," Dilandau took a deep breath after Van shoved him away by pushing against his blade. "What has you so riled up? As far as I know, nothing remotely bad's happened since your brother."
"Are you crazy? Nothing bad?" Van finally spat, panting. "You drugged a woman in a nightclub full of drunks without her knowledge, and you don't think that's bad? Do you have any idea what could have happened if-"
Dilandau barked a laugh at the absurdity of the reason.
"Oh, that's what it is. But really? That's why I'm here? For spreading some Intensified Luck in a place where half the people are high as a kite anyway? Why do you care? You're the mighty dragon king. You never show emotions. Unless…unless you're somehow interested in her," Dilandau purred, wisely omitting the fact that he had videographic evidence of just how interested in her Van appeared to be last night.
Van's look darkened while he diverted any superfluous energy to his backmost right molar. The audacity of this bastard! Dilandau's words were stirring a fire inside of him for unknown reasons. He just had to make it personal. This was supposed to be about propriety and what's right. About teaching him a lesson that messing with people wasn't okay. Not about Van.
"Shut up, Dilandau. This isn't about me!" Van lashed out verbally before lashing out physically again.
A tendon along Van's jaw popped when he ground his teeth in concentration. He tightened the grip on his sword, and it zoomed through the air in a big semi-circle between them before he slashed at Dilandau in a one-handed attack this time. Although the royal sword was long and heavy, Van was strong enough to use it like that for short periods of time.
Dilandau hadn't expected this. He felt the blade close to his face-too close-like a tickle, and a rush of adrenaline allowed him to use the dirtiest trick in the book. He saw an opening while Van recovered from the attack and took the chance to swipe the other man's legs out from under him, taking him down.
Unprepared, Van's head smacked against the hard ground with a sickening thud. For a few seconds, he saw only static, stars, and splotches of color before pain engulfed his head and radiated across his entire skull in the rhythm of his heartbeat.
They stared at each other. Van was rubbing his head, flinching as he felt something that reminded him of a soft dent on an apple that had been dropped. A few feet away, Dilandau stood drawing shallow breaths while slowly reaching for his cheek. Two fingers came away red. A thin, long gash there was beginning to ooze blood and his whole face was even paler than usual.
"Don't fuck around with innocent citizens! Now get the hell out of here!" Van snarled.
"Don't have to tell me that twice," Dilandau hissed back. He dropped the borrowed sword, and it clanked loudly on the stones, causing Van to clutch his ears. The sound reverberated in his head a thousand times louder than it was in reality.
Dilandau hurried down the hallways he had come through on the way in and took a sharp left to avoid a security guard by the auxiliary power room. He made sure to turn his face far enough the other way that the guy wouldn't see anything. He'd be damned if he let anybody see.
When he reached the ground floor, the sound of chirping birds greeted him as soon as he set foot onto the covered walkway around the bailey. Damn birds didn't have a fucking care in the world. If only they'd shut up. His thoughts began to pursue a more grotesque route when suddenly he felt like he was about to regret something.
"Hey, you!" The voice was coming from further away.
He froze for a moment without turning, then began to walk again even faster.
"Yeah, you!" The voice was already closer.
A surprisingly firm hand grabbed his upper arm and brought him to a stop.
"Wait a minute. Don't I know you? But…oh, dang, what happened to your face?" Celena asked, blue eyes wide.
"It's nothing," Dilandau answered stubbornly, shaking off her hand and covering the bloody cheek with a hand. "Go away."
"That doesn't look like nothing," Celena said, hands braced on her hips accusingly.
"Whatever," Dilandau grumbled, taking off the plaid shirt which left him standing in a white, ribbed tank top. He proceeded to bunch up the flannel and pushed it against the wound. "Leave me alone."
One of Celena's eyebrows rose slightly. She hadn't expected him to be so toned. There was more to him than anticipated. He clearly didn't just sit in an office all day like she'd been told, so maybe the wound on his cheek wasn't due to an accident.
"Did you get in a knife fight with someone? You seem upset about more than just the injury."
"It's none of your business. Stay the hell away from me," Dilandau replied. "If I have to tell you again, it's going to be in the form of a shove." He felt panic rise. She was beginning to do it again- reading him like an open book. This was creepy as hell.
Dilandau turned on his heels and was about to take off again, but she was faster. The blonde's hand wrapped around his wrist like a vise and stopped him again. In any other circumstance, he wouldn't have had a problem physically pushing her away, but now one look at her face stopped him. He just couldn't do it.
"It'd be better if you let somebody look at that wound. It looks pretty gnarly," Celena volunteered her wholly unsolicited opinion about the matter. "I'm sure the royal physicians can…"
"No way!" Dilandau interrupted her. "I'm not going to them." He shook off her hand, and she let go easily.
"But why-" Celena attempted again.
"I told you, little girl. It's none of your business!"
"Then at least let me help you," she offered.
With a smarmy grin, Dilandau replied. "Oh, why I'd just love that, of course…"
"Happy to!" Celena exclaimed with gladness.
"…not!" Dilandau finished his previous answer and took a threatening step in her direction, towering above her.
Affronted by his sudden back and forth in mood, Celena jumped a bit. It made the look on her face change. She looked upset. Now that, he knew how to handle.
"That's right. Fuck off. I don't need you or anybody else to help me," Dilandau affirmed his previous statements.
Celena smiled brightly.
What the hell?
The next caustic comment died on his tongue.
Celena quickly reached for his free hand- the one that was slightly raised and balled into a tight fist between them to emphasize his point and current emotional state. Two of her fingers found spots near his wrist, dug into the soft tissue between his bones, and exerted moderate pressure. What she was doing caught him so off guard that she had all the time in the world to step around him and find another pressure point somewhere between his neck and shoulder.
"What are…," Dilandau stammered dumbly.
Celena laughed softly. "Sorry. Hopefully, this doesn't hurt. I only just read about this technique before you walked past me. I'm using acupressure points to immobilize part of your somatic nervous system. Now come with me," she encouraged him. "By the way, I'm 24 and only look like a little girl next to huge windbags."
Before becoming angrier, Dilandau allowed himself to be impressed by her resilience. Other people would have hightailed it by now, but she somehow was immune to his…charm.
It wasn't like he could have done anything but what she wanted, because she gave him a little push and maneuvered him around the other way, then marched them both off.
Dilandau was speechless. His left hand was still clutching his shirt, pressing it to the wounded cheek while she held his cold left hand tightly in hers. The other was still at his neck, and whatever she was pushing on caused a dull throb to take control of his nervous system.
They walked only a short distance out of the walkway, a few steps down the staircase into the garden, and to a spot between a tree and a lush rosebush. Since Sunday at the castle meant it was minimally staffed, it at least also meant that nobody would see him humiliated like this. What the hell did she want, anyway? Didn't she have better things to do than annoying him?
Apparently, she had set up camp here before, because a book about self-defense and a knit vest rolled up into a makeshift pillow were scattered on the grass there. The girl in the sundress didn't look at all like she'd be interested in a book about self-defense.
"Please, have a seat."
Celena gave him no real choice and a firm nudge to turn him around. Her facial expression was frighteningly persuasive too- intimidating almost. Her eyes may have appeared innocent to others with their pale blue color, but in that fleeting moment, Dilandau saw more: somebody who shouldn't be underestimated. How could he have missed it before?
Just as quickly as the thought had come, he dismissed it again. He didn't have time for shit like this. Psychoanalyzing her was a waste of time.
Celena placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him into a comfortable sitting position. Her warm fingers were gripping his bare shoulders confidently, and it left him a bit speechless.
"Take a minute to calm down. You're all riled up."
Celena plopped down next to him, then loosened the knot of the pink, silk necktie she was wearing. "Here, take this. Silk supposedly has antibacterial properties. My brother says injuries to the face always bleed more than they need to."
Dilandau slowly reached for the proffered item. What could it hurt? While he used the soft cloth to stop the bleeding, she told him some about herself, and that's how he learned her name.
She told him where she was from and why she was here, who her brother was, and what she aspired to be.
Celena also didn't ask any more questions. She just talked. It wasn't entirely annoying. Her voice was soft and not too high-pitched. It was a relief. He hated that in a woman.
Just because she talked didn't mean she wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. Celena thought about what little she knew of Dilandau from Merle and combined it with her own observations. He worked for diplomats of Zaibach, had been in Fanelia since he was a young boy, had no close family, and spent a lot of time around the king.
In addition to that, she'd seen him gain pleasure from causing someone else distress, and it hadn't even been aimed at a specific person. He'd just enjoyed the chaos he could create. It was likely because he didn't have much else to enjoy. It was a power game. But why?
Deep beneath the mockery and the indifference he displayed, was it possible that he hurt?
"Dilandau."
He heard his name.
"Huh?" He blinked and faced her, surprised.
"That's your name, isn't it?" Celena asked him.
He nodded.
"How about Dilly?"
"Only if you have a death wish."
She laughed freely at his half-assed threat- as if it meant nothing to her.
"Do you know why I know your name?"
"No. Let's keep it a mystery."
Ignoring him, she went on. "I know your name because…," then paused, playing with a stalk of grass between her fingers as if considering what to say next. "It was the king, wasn't it?" She jumped from one subject to the next, trusting him to follow her thoughts as they were bouncing around fast.
He turned away, and it was all the answer she needed.
"I asked you before, but I'm asking again. Why did you do it?" Her voice was soft still with disappointment ringing in it.
She was referring to the incident at the club again. Didn't she know already? She seemed to know more about him than he was comfortable to admit.
Dilandau's mind screamed for him to get to his feet and run, but his limbs refused.
He shrugged. " I was bored. There's your answer. Now can you get me back to normal so I can get the hell out of here?"
Celena laughed and flicked his nose with a finger. "Sure! Here ya go!"
Dilandau wiped the ghost of her touch away quickly. "Was that necessary?"
"No. I just wanted to do it," Celena admitted. "You could have left the moment I let go of you but didn't."
That comment confused and enraged him. Why hadn't he been able to get up? Why was his body betraying him? Without another word, powered by that fresh rush of anger, he scrambled to his feet and hurried off, leaving Celena behind.
Princess Merle shifted on her chair at the royal breakfast table Monday morning. It was decked out like every day with ample amounts of coffee, scrambled eggs, fruit, pastries, and cereal. The dining room was flooded with light, and its cheerful ambience would lift anybody's spirits.
With the guests asleep still, it was just her right now. Even Van, who was normally an early riser, had not shown up yet. He was usually the first one at the table in the mornings. Odd...
…but speak of the devil.
When the king of the country finally trudged into the sunny room, he made a beeline for the row of floor-length windows, pulling the curtains shut one by one as he went, blocking out the bright morning sun.
Merle immediately knew he'd done something dumb, but what exactly she wasn't sure of yet. Probably wouldn't take her long, though.
"And how are you this morning?" Merle tested the waters with a harmless question.
Van pulled out a chair across from her, sat down, and finally answered. "I'm fine."
One of Merle's eyebrows rose as she jutted her bottom lip to the side. "Please tell me you didn't do anything stupid involving a certain Zaibachian albino."
Van didn't answer that one. Instead, he reached for the coffee pot- fine, Freidian ceramic- -in the middle of the table and poured himself a cup. The aroma sneaked into his nose, making him perk up a bit.
Merle waited patiently, although it cost her a great deal of self-control.
Eyeing the platter with the scrambled eggs, Van picked up the large serving spoon and cornered a scoop against the lip of the platter. After securing the food, he answered, "Nah. Just a sparring session for old times' sake."
If he'd had more sense this morning, the king would have known that such a vague answer wasn't going to satisfy his curious sister. He took a deep, calming breath and focused his attention on what was easy to tackle and right in front of him on the plate now: food. But…
Merle clanked a spoon against her own cup of coffee after stirring in a hefty helping of milk, then downed it nearly in one go.
The harsh sound made Van wince noticeably.
His sister crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Do you have any idea just how angry I am with you?"
"Judging by your face and posture, hopping mad I'd say," Van answered lazily, long since used to her bluntness.
"What's that gonna do to Fanelia's relationship with their attaché corps?"
Despite her love of parties, her funky outer appearance, and the open dislike for royal protocol, she cared as deeply about Fanelia as him.
Van finally looked at her sternly. "Nothing. He won't say anything about it, just like me. We both know diplomacy goes way beyond personal grudges. I only taught him a lesson he probably won't forget too fast."
Merle narrowed her eyes. "Why'd you do it? It's not like you at all." Digging into the pocket of her designer sweatpants, she found a strip of gum and unwrapped it while speaking. "Why did it make you so angry that he drugged this woman anyway?" In between chews of gum, she kept talking. "She's some friend of Allen's, right? Looked like he cares about her."
One of the side doors opened, and a woman in a simple, grey kitchen staff uniform appeared to refill the coffee pot. While the lady was clanking with the dishes, Van was clutching his head in one hand, massaging his temples with a blank stare, possibly thinking about what Merle had just said.
For a moment, she saw something dance in the depths of her brother's eyes.
When the servant was on the way out, Van finally answered. "She lives here. She's under my protection. Nobody messes with my people. You know that."
She did know that. Still, one of Merle's pink eyebrows was slightly strained as if she didn't believe the answer was this easy. Chewing her gum in deep thought, she watched her brother eat his food in silence for a while before speaking again.
"You don't look good. Did you get hurt pulling some crazy stunt during that 'sparring match'?" She used two fingers of each hand to emphasize the last two words and articulated them unnecessarily.
"It's nothing. Just a headache from hitting it on the floor," Van said.
"Go see the physicians!" Merle griped, already knowing he wouldn't. "Or at least let Millerna check you out."
"I told you I'm fine," Van grumbled. "Palace staff fussing over me is the last thing I need after being forced to stay in bed for a simple flesh wound from the dragon…"
To prove a point and keep him from downplaying his state of health, Merle produced a green bubble and popped it soundly, which made Van drop his fork of food and clutch his head in both hands.
"You sure?" Merle asked, frustration and concern underscoring her words.
A few seconds passed before Van lowered his hands again. "I'm sure. Nobody needs to know anything. It's just going to cause a massive shitstorm."
Merle sighed. Putting Fanelia first was nothing new, but ever since Van had been crowned, he was becoming more and more altruistic. Or so at least Merle thought. In reality, Van was a bit concerned, but he'd be damned if he'd show it.
He'd be better off only showing concern for his country and citizens from now on. The last few excursions and the event in the Mystic Moon had shown him exactly what could happen if he let himself be careless about what he wanted on a personal level.
Nevertheless, his head pounded like somebody was beating it with a mallet, and it kept him from being able to concentrate on some important documents on his study's desk later in the morning.
"Hitomi! What are you doing here?" Yukari's voice was full of disapproval.
Hitomi stowed her purse in one of the clinic lockers while attempting to calm her concerned bestie. "I'm fine. I promise. I slept all day Sunday, and staying in bed would only make me miserable."
"Don't be so stubborn. You were still supposed to take it easy today," Yukari scoffed, crossing her arms.
Hitomi talked while changing into a fresh set of scrubs while Yukari scrutinized her. "I know, but really, I'm okay. I'm just glad you and Amano and Allen found me before something happened."
"About that…," Yukari said. She hadn't had a chance to really tell Hitomi more about that fateful night. "I didn't want to overwhelm you yesterday in that hour you were awake, but…we didn't find you originally. It was Princess Millerna and King Van."
Clearly, this was exciting, and telling Hitomi that she'd had something to do with some royals overrode Yukari's protectiveness of her friend. This, and the fact that Yukari hadn't been able to detect anything out of the ordinary in Hitomi's behavior yet.
Hitomi stalled in her movements, head halfway through the shirt's opening before she tugged it down hastily and whipped her head around. "What?"
"Yeah. I wasn't sure how much you remembered. It was Allen who made sure we got to you, but the princess and the king were the ones who took care of you before that. You're so lucky she was there. Did you know she's been studying medicine despite her father's disapproval? I read it in a magazine not long ago…" Yukari kept talking about the princess, but Hitomi's mind was stuttering as she tried to remember any details of Saturday night.
Yes, she did know that, but how? She wracked her brain to find out, but it only pounded in response- an aftereffect of the residual drug still in her system. Dimly, there was a memory of talking to Princess Millerna and the king, but she thought her addled mind had fabricated it. Yukari was still talking when they got to the front desk, picked a random chart off the pile, and moved down the hallway to the first examination room.
Beige linoleum floors and white walls gave the place a sterile, boring appearance. It smelled like antiseptic from frequent cleaning and stale coffee from the break room.
Both Hitomi and Yukari were soon to graduate and advanced enough to operate alone, only requiring a signature on any paperwork from the physician whose name they practiced under.
Yukari continued the one-sided conversation in her usual, unperturbed manner. An upbeat personality was only one of the reasons why Hitomi loved her best friend so. Except right now while the chatter was keeping her from diving deeper into the foggy memories from Saturday night.
"…and I mean, did you see how good the king looked? And Princess Millerna? Of course, you must have. You were freaking talking to them for, like, an hour at least before everything went haywire! It's so un-freaking-believably insane that you talked to them!"
"Did I?" Hitomi asked quietly.
"Ye-es! Did you forget that too?"
"Apparently," Hitomi said quietly while closing the door behind them.
Hitomi stood by the sink next to Yukari as she jotted some notes onto the clipboard, all the while eyeing the patient who was sitting on the examination table.
The hint of a grin was tugging at his lips, but he fought it admirably. What the hell was he doing here?
Yukari poked Hitomi in the side. "Your turn, future graduate. I'll observe and comment this time."
Hitomi locked eyes with Van through his mirrored shades. She was patiently waiting for what was unavoidable. For Yukari to shriek in realization of just who was sitting on the table right across the small room.
His hair was sticking up in various angles, and nothing about his jeans and simple, red Henley so much as hinted at noble birth. Of course, there also were the mirrored shades. Him and his laughably stupid disguise. Light from the only window cast his shadow onto the wall as he sat perfectly still. There wasn't anything special about him.
Hitomi glanced at Yukari, full of expectation.
Waiting.
Waiting.
It would be a cold day in hell before he'd fool the biggest lover of high-gloss magazines south of Asgard.
Any moment now.
Still waiting...the clock on the wall clicked noisily for each second that passed...
…but no reaction came. Did she really not recognize Van Slanzar de Fanel?
"Hi, I'm Yukari, and this is Hitomi. We're nurse practitioners." Yukari made the introduction with professionalism, since Hitomi was still speechless for another moment before playing along.
Indeed. Maybe it was a tad chilly in here.
"Hello," Hitomi said and swallowed to steady herself. "My name is Hitomi."
Shit…hadn't Yukari just said that already? Embarrassing.
Oh, heck it.
"I'll be taking care of you today…"
Why, oh why, had that come out sounding so suggestive when she'd said the same thing to hundreds of patients before?
"Ryu," Yukari supplied the patient's fake name.
Nice one, dragon king.
Yukari was completely oblivious to Hitomi's internal struggle.
Regardless, Hitomi pulled a medical supply cart over and asked him to hike the sleeve of his shirt up high enough to wrap the blood pressure cuff around his bicep. While she was doing so, she steeled herself for whatever was going to happen while explaining to him what she was doing, like she would for any patient.
Only, the fact that it was him changed everything. Mainly because she didn't know what all he knew. Being so close to him again, unprepared, was all a bit much, and she didn't understand why her heart was racing so. Especially since she'd been convinced that Allen had been her savior Saturday night, but now with this new information...
They were like night and day. Allen was gallant and smooth while the Fanelian king was reserved and almost rough around the edges. Why was she comparing them anyway? The way her thoughts were going unnerved her.
The king's breathing was strangely exaggerated between them and that did nothing to help.
On a scale from one to ten, Van's attractiveness had already been at eleven since day one. But now, with him suddenly so close again, it skyrocketed to twenty.
She stared at the stethoscope's bell on his brachial artery just below the cuff's edge. On his bicep. His very nicely shaped, big bicep. What finally made her focus more on the medical aspect of him being here was the elevated blood pressure reading.
"125 over 80," Hitomi announced. "That's higher than it should be."
Hitomi was right in front of him, and her hands were still on his arm. They were warm, gentle and her nearness more distracting than he was willing to admit.
"Uh huh," he agreed unintelligibly, looking up a bit and facing her through the shades.
Hitomi only saw herself in the glass.
"What are your complaints?" Hitomi asked him, business-like.
Van cleared his throat a bit. "I've had a killer headache since yesterday, and loud noises make it even worse. Hard to concentrate on work."
"Did you experience any cranial trauma?"
"What?"
"Your head. Did you hit it?" Hitomi regained some measure of self-awareness while Yukari's pen scratched on the paper behind them.
"Yeah…"
"You probably have a concussion," Hitomi instantly diagnosed, sounding a bit more worried than she wanted to.
She heard Yukari step up behind her. "Wait a minute. You can't just say that. You haven't even checked his pupils or his head." Her friend extended a hand and snatched the shades right off Van's face.
Hitomi gasped and held her breath.
Van screwed his eyes shut the moment he noticed the shades leaving his face. "Hey! Give those back, please. Light hurts my eyes a lot right now."
Hitomi snatched them out of her friend's hand who took a step back, a bit perturbed by the patient's reaction. "Jeez. I'm terribly sorry. Let me turn the light off then."
Yukari gladly backed off and flipped the light switch by the door. The room became a bit darker but not much.
Thinking quickly, Hitomi reached to the side and pulled on the privacy curtain behind them to separate the room. It was there to shield the patient from view should somebody open the door during an examination. It also blocked some of the light from the window on the other half.
"There, this should help too. You can open your eyes now," Hitomi assured him.
Her voice was low and calming. Van trusted her and cracked his eyes open. The last time they'd been semi-alone behind a curtain of sorts and close like that had been right before she'd kissed him. Judging from what conversation snippets he'd overheard when the two women entered, there was a chance that she didn't remember.
Van was sort of glad about the possibility that she didn't recall that kiss. He already felt bad enough for having let it happen, but her knowing about it would probably make it twice as bad. Either because she would blame herself, him, or both of them. Neither option was desirable.
Part of him was wondering though: what would she do if she knew just how close she'd been to him? Again. Closer than he'd let any random woman get to him right now. But she wasn't any random woman, was she? It felt different being around her.
Unexpectedly, she leaned in. He was just hallucinating, wasn't he? She wasn't going to kiss him again, was she? Well, he sure didn't want to cause a scene by refusing her!
He held his breath while her fingers moved across his head in a way that felt far too good to ignore. Trailing across the sides and around back, carefully searching for, probably, a good position.
His own hands became sweaty from where they laid in his lap.
Until she found the bump and he flinched. Of course. Just kidding. He hadn't really thought or hoped she'd kiss him. Of course he'd known she was only looking for the injury.
In a hushed tone, Hitomi whispered, "Why are you here? Don't you have the best physicians working for you?"
Very sobering.
"I do, but it's complicated. If I went there, it would cause problems for someone else and more drama than Fanelia could stand."
Hitomi huffed quietly. So, he didn't want to rat out the other one involved and put his country first, save them both a load of trouble and keep as much peace as possible. She respected that.
"I do still need to check your pupillary reflex."
She pulled a small penlight from her shirt pocket and shone it directly into Van's eye. The pain of the light shot like lightning from his pupil straight into the pain center of his brain. It made him curse under his breath and grab her wrist in reflex, to push the light away.
Hitomi nearly dropped the penlight.
Van's other hand shot out to take hold of her shoulder and keep her from harming him, his brain having registered an impending attack.
Hitomi froze. He'd pulled her a bit closer in the process, making her end up standing between his knees. His reaction was only natural. Keeping your enemies close and such- both metaphorically and physically.
They both blinked, staring at each other for a second, and in that moment, Hitomi balanced on a knife-edge of clarity. His scent triggered a few memory fragments but nothing more. She'd definitely been close to him that night- closer than simple acquaintances would be, that was for sure. Now if she could only remember what exactly…
"Everything okay there?" Yukari asked from behind the curtain.
"Yes!" Van and Hitomi both snapped simultaneously.
Van was staring directly at her, his grip finally softening a bit but not letting go.
"Pupillary response is significantly delayed. Together with a sizeable hematoma on his head, he's got a grade two concussion," Hitomi finally managed to say.
When Yukari yanked the curtain back without warning, Van retracted his hands and quickly grabbed his shades to slide them back into place. If Yukari hadn't also been looking at the clipboard, she would have seen that. That and how Van's hands left Hitomi with obvious reluctance.
"Sounds about right. I'll get Doc to sign off on all that."
Yukari was already leaving and kept the door wide open for them to follow.
"Thank you," Van said with gratitude ringing in his tone of voice.
"No big," Hitomi shrugged. "You need rest. You shouldn't be out of bed. How did you even get here? And what would you have done if anybody else had examined you? People would lose it if they knew you're here."
Freaking good point, but he'd be damned if he admitted that he hadn't thought his cunning plan all the way through.
"I'd have…thought of something. And you're the one to talk! Shouldn't you be recovering from that wild ride on Saturday night?"
"I am! I mean…I did," Hitomi spoke with a hushed voice. "What do you know about it? Yukari said you and Princess Millerna found me."
"You mean you don't remember anything at all?" Van asked while slowly getting to his feet in front of her.
"N-no, except apparently we talked." This probably being the only chance to lay her worries to rest, she worked up the nerve to ask him. "Please tell me. Did I do anything…weird? I don't know what happened, but…thank you for looking out for me."
The king took another half step toward her, their bodies touching lightly. His left arm was so close to her right one that their hands brushed against each other, and he secretly relished it. Then he leaned down- near enough to whisper quietly in her ear. "Nothing to worry about and…you're welcome."
It was all they could do before anybody passed the wide open door or Yukari came back wondering what was taking them so long.
Whiskey was probably not one of the approved treatment methods for a grade two concussion, but it alleviated some of the dull pain this rush of new thoughts was causing Van's head on top of the physical damage. The amber liquid had a polite nose with light prickle and mild smokiness. A taste of white pepper lingered at the back of his throat after he downed a whole dram in one go.
Escaflowne was on one knee in front of him, motionless as one of the side panels on his casing was flipped open to allow Van better access to the memory storage.
What Van had found a while ago filled him with a strange restlessness even whiskey couldn't mellow. The program on the thumb drive Millena had given him had detected more hidden files in Escaflowne's memory bank. To Van's frustration, however, he couldn't figure out how to access them. Not even his Admin rights were able to bypass the encryption.
Together with the notebook his brother had left behind in his study, Van was sure everything would make more sense. Folken had written about dragons, theories, history, biology, but nothing that tied it all together. Nothing but the mention of Escaflowne right at the end.
Folken hadn't been able to write anything more down before he'd been sent beyond the wall for the rite of dragon slaying. What had compelled him to write all this?
"I foresee an adventure, my lord," Escaflowne's metallic voice cut through the silence.
"Maybe," Van answered. He sensed mild disapproval from the trusted machine.
"Just like your ancestors, living by the ABC's, are we? Adventurous, brave, creative. Oh, those were the days. My services were called upon more often then. Unfortunately, my programming prohibits me from showing enthusiasm for such a dangerous undertaking," Escaflowne joked.
Van snorted quietly, expressing slight amusement while watching the setting sun paint the roofs of the city below lavender and crimson. It sure seemed like he was due for a walk in the woods.
Tbc...