Amare Dividere
Title: Tough Luck [Part Twelve]
Series: Vision of Escaflowne
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.
Seated around the table with the advisors, Eries looks tired. She had been up late the prior evening, because after returning to her own chambers, she had not been able to sleep. "This news changes nothing of our position in regards to Norte," one advisor was saying. "There is no reason to believe the girl."
The other advisors nod.
"If there's even the slightest chance at getting Millerna back we must do something," Dryden says. He straightens in his chair. "I believe her."
"Yours is not the only voice that we must hear a decision from, my king," the advisor says. "Princess Eries, you have been rather quiet today. What do you think of what the girl who claims to be a Kathis has said to us?"
"The girl is a Kathis," Dryden protests, some fire behind his voice.
"I stand corrected," the advisor says, bowing his head. "Princess?"
Eries lifts her face from her folded hands and straightens her back. "I agree with King Dryden," she says, being sure to accentuate her pronunciation of the word king to remind the advisors. "Fariah is a Kathis, by my nephew's own hand. He has sent word with her that she is who she claims to be."
The advisor coughs, looking a little put out at being so openly brought to fault.
"And I believe that the best course of action in regards to this new information will be to send men to recover the Queen."
Around the table, the advisors shift uncomfortably. "Princess, there is little reason to believe they will be successful, what good does it do us to send people who will fail?"
"I do not think that they will fail," Eries says, glancing sharply at the speaker. "Especially if Allen Schezar is in command of them."
"You have much faith in someone who has proved himself to be little better than a defiant Sea Guardian."
"You forget yourselves," Eries says, straightening her shoulders and turning her eyes to meet Dryden's. "Allen Schezar is the country's, and the Queen's, champion. If he cannot rescue her, then perhaps no one in Asturia can."
Silence greets her response.
"Sir Schezar will lead the attack. He is allowed whatever preparations he requires, and he will leave as soon as it is prudent. There will be no more discussion of this." She pauses to meet each pair of eyes, and all the heads bow at her gaze. "Other news."
"Nothing, princess."
"Then the meeting will adjourn." Eries rises, and the men around the table do likewise. She crosses to Dryden's seat and he shakes off his lethargy in order to rise, and offers her his arm.
The two of them leave the chamber of advisors, and Fariah stands waiting for them, looking as on guard as the two taller men at the door, and because of her smaller size, much more dangerous.
"Word, my lady?" Fariah asks, following as Eries curtsies to Dryden and motions for her to come along.
"Allen himself will go to bring her back."
"Then my work is done, with your permission, I would return to Duke Chid."
"With all haste. Protect my nephew, and send him my well wishes."
Bowing deeply, Fariah turns and jogs back towards the stables. It will be a long trip to her new home, but not one that she dreads making. Asturia, seated by the sea, is beautiful, but she finds herself longing for the age and the mists of the mountains in Freid.
Eries steps out, alone, into the courtyard, and sits herself down at one of the fountains. It has been a long day, and she knows that Allen is not finished with his discussion of their betrothal. Glancing down into the water, she asks herself a silent question.
The brambles they land in are sharp, and cling to clothing. Arik does not seem to notice, however, and shoves Van away from her. "How could you!" she shouts. "He'll die!"
Fighting his way to his feet out of the brambles, Van rolls his eyes. "He has Skan to watch over him. And it was his choice to make." He glances up at the trees. "I have to get home, and he wanted you to come with me, and see that I made it there," Van says, turning to offer her a hand up. "Come."
"You hold no power over me."
"I am not trying to," Van says in a weary voice. "But I would like to return to my home. And my wife."
Stilling herself, Arik sobers at the memory of Hitomi, and her kindness. "Yes," she says, taking Van's hand and pulling herself out of the patch of brambles, "and you will." Without looking around, she draws her sword and points. "This way."
"How do you know that without knowing where we are?" Van asks, arching an eyebrow at her.
"Because it's up the mountain, and we can see where we are from there," Arik says, starting to make her way in the indicated direction, keeping her sword drawn.
Van chuckles, and follows after her.
"Besides, I owe Merle a favor or two, and protecting you should suffice."
Ouran paces in his chambers, with his generals waiting. He leads a meeting, but would rather be out among the troops than inside. Wars were times of action, in his mind, not times for meetings.
"The supplies we took when we overtook Egzardia are good stores that will last the entire army for another three months on the road."
"It was an entire country," Ouran snaps. "And we have three months worth of supplies? How is that possible?"
"When the army retreated from Norte, sire, they burned everything behind them as they went."
"And the people? What do the people live off of with everything burned to the ground?"
"I … don't know, sire."
The aide never saw the blow coming, kneeling with his head lowered and his eyes trained on the ground. Aden, standing in the corner, is expressionless. His face, pale in its tan complexion, is blank. The generals, however, are not so unmoved by their king's violence.
"My lord. You cannot continue to dispose of the people in this manner… there will be no one left to enjoy our victory," one of them speaks up with.
Aden smiles to himself. The generals do not know of Ouran's plans, and how little he cares for the people that Aden himself had come to love over his years of service to them for his queen. He could have departed the evil capital years ago, when the Queen had taken Ouran for her second husband, but he had not. It was both misguided, and forbidden love for the kind woman, and a promise he had made her, long ago, that he would help her people if whatever new husband she took survived her.
And then there was the collar, and the magic that was binding him.
But in Aden's mind, it meant little that he was thus constrained. The promise he had made was more important. Ouran had little idea that his supposedly trained and subdued guard dog was neither in regards to him.
"We march on Fanelia next," Ouran announces, stalking over to his map. "From there, Zaibach. From Zaibach we head south into Asturia, and from there Freid."
"You speak as though these things are simple, my lord. Taking over countries will not be so easy now that they are aware we are prepared to make war."
"They are cowed by the peace they have enjoyed," Ouran says in an even, dangerous voice, "they will disbelieve what they wish to. And no one on Gaea wishes for war. We are done here."
The generals salute, and leave the high walled room in uneasy silence.
Again, Aden asks himself why he does not kill the king.
He has the strength, despite his appearance, the will…
Perhaps, he thinks, red-rimmed brown eyes trained on the dark man, the magic in him is not as strong as that being used on him. It had happened in that manner when his sister had been thrown into the room with the Asturian queen, and he had barely been able to make her a way out.
The tattoos on the back of his hands burn a little as he chafes against the collar on his neck, but Ouran does not notice.
Soon, Aden contents himself to think. Nileyah had escaped, though wounded, and his sister had always been the stronger of the two of them. The braver.
Soon things will come to Norte to see to the king, and if they can free me, he thinks to himself, then I will do what I wanted to do the moment he entered the throne room all those years ago.
"We are in Freid," Arik says as they reach the top of the ridge, "near Godashim if I am not mistaken."
"Then we are in luck," Van says. "I know the Duke, he will see me home safely."
"There is a ways to go before that, your highness. It is several mountain ranges away. This is Freid afterall. You are from the land protected by dragons, Freid is a land protected by mountains."
"I am aware of that," Van says, starting down the other side of the ridge. "And if we are going to continue this journey, you will call me Van instead of your majesty. It's annoying."
"You are a king."
"But not your King. Or even your leader, as you so aptly put to me before."
It is Arik's turn to laugh. "You are right."
"Put your sword away, if you slip you will undoubtedly run yourself through. That's not good mountain climbing etiquette."
Arik does so, just as Van himself stumbles, taking a tumble down the mountainside. Spitting out a curse, Arik dives after him, catching him by the wrist before he falls off the edge of an abrupt drop off in the ridge. "You speak to me of falling?" she snaps, yanking him up and planting him on the uphill side of the tree she caught to gather him.
Dirty from the tumble and groaning, Van glares at Arik. "There was a root sticking out."
"Then watch your feet."
"I won't die from falling," he snaps back, rubbing his ankle before climbing to his feet. "I just haven't been outdoors like this in a while."
"Where were you before you showed up in Ispano, Van?"
"The Mystic Moon," he replies, shaking his head. "It felt like only a brief moment, a few days perhaps that I was there, but here…"
"From what I gather, you have been gone many months," Arik says, leaning against the tree. "There is war again, Van. Norte this time has decided that it would like to take over the countries around it."
"Then perhaps there will always be war," he says with a sigh, getting to his feet.
"Be careful," Arik snaps, putting a hand out to steady him.
"I will. I have much to live for. But nothing comes of nothing, we must keep moving, while there is light left in the sky."
Reading the orders sent to him, bearing the royal seal, Allen's vision turns red. "She's sending me away," he snaps.
"I don't think it means what you think it means, brother," Celena says, looking up from her contemplation of the fire in the hearth of their parents', and now their, home.
"So now you will speak about it to me?"
"I have suspected for some time. I did not know if it was the truth until recently. And you do not speak of all things to me either. These memories that I have."
"It is better for you that you do not know more of them," Allen says, turning to regard the large windows and the evening light that comes through them. "I am to go to Norte and retrieve the Queen."
"See?" Celena says, getting to her feet off the couch and moving to take the letter from her brother's hands. "You are the best person for this job, despite what you think of the Princess. She can send no one else, I am sure."
"Of course," Allen says.
"You act as though it is your happiness that suffers here, brother," Celena says. "For once it is not about you. Princess Eries is a sad person. A lonely one."
"Who will not do what she must to not be lonely," Allen says, lowering his head.
"Women are not so simple as that. Or so practical. You speak as though you know her. You know very little about her. Only what she shows you."
"There is more?" Allen asks. "Why would she not…"
"Simple," Celena says. "The same reason I do not show you how much I remember of being the man they turned me into. Because it is nothing you need to know. And you do not make it obvious how you feel about knowing. You push me away in that regard, as I am sure she knows you would push her."
Allen turns his blue eyes on his sister, whose chin is tipped up towards the class. Her eyes are closed, and there are tears on her lashes. He reaches out a hand to her cheek. "It scares me," Allen admits. "It is nothing I wanted to ever return to, Celena. But I would like to know what bothers you."
"I am not so sure of that," she says, nonetheless leaning her head into his hand.
The army from Norte made their way towards Fanelia without first realizing what sort of obstacles would be in their way. The border of the country was unguarded, the people from the outer provinces having built their towns and farms where the land dragons preferred not to roam, which meant that the people living in the land where the army made its way inward from were aware of their movements and had time to send word of the invasion to the capital.
The invading army, this time, had to face the dragons they had avoided with smaller numbers during the coronation ceremony.
And they were less prepared to fight them than Van or Folken ever were.
Large regiments were roasted by dragon fire, and several captains were eaten right off their horses from the front of their men before the general called a retreat.
"I do not understand, sire, what was so easy for Zaibach to enter and conquer Faneila. There are dragons for hundreds of miles in the outlying mountains before you ever reach a sign of people, and then there are high mountains that we never got close enough to see if we could cross."
"You failed," Ouran said.
"The guymelefs were malfunctioning for some reason, and the men were scared, sire, I could not continue under those circumstances."
"What you are saying, then, is that you failed."
"Yes, sire."