Amare Dividere
Title: Lonely Choices 23/30
Series: Vision of Escaflowne
Rating: PG-13 for some violence.
A/N: Sorry this took so excessively long to update. Life intervened. Thanks to everyone for their encouragement during the down time.
The troops from Norte reassemble, converging in the pillaged capital of Egzardia. The streets are littered with what spoils the army has no use for. Broken pottery and straw and every here and there a peasant that had not submitted as fully as the invaders would have liked. The Egzardian citizens watch with silent eyes as the troops congregate amidst them, take over their homes and eat their food. The men are under different generals than the Norte king normally chooses for his men, but the Egzardians cannot know that. All the Egzardians know is that the strange troops, the ones with the vacant eyes and the lackluster appearance, are being prepared to move. They are being set loose on Gaea again.
While this is a happy move for them, as the columns of marching soldiers move out of the capital, the citizens with relatives elsewhere feel a strain on their hearts, though fear of the retainers left to govern the city gnaws away what loyalty to kin most of them feel. A few brave souls force their hammering hearts into their chest and try to get correspondence to loved ones who may be in the advancing army's path. But the rest of the citizens, those who know there is a secret that must be kept, who have seen the machinery hauling guymelefs through their broken city, are silent.
Warning others would mean exposing the knowledge they had, and if the enemy king found out the secret that was hidden in the sealed halls of the palace, there would be little hope of stopping the advancing army.
As Fariah and the Freidan military advisors feared, the black armoured soldiers attack from the mountain passes, but now they are backed by supplies from a wealthy nation of traders that was brought easily to its knees. Luckily, for Freid, Egzardia is less involved in weapons production than other countries with such a rich life of trading, and so the soldiers attacking their border are only better fed and mounted, and do not bear the devastating weapons that they might have if they had taken Basram.
These thoughts, and not the secret kept by the Egzardian citizens, plague Fariah as she attends the Duke's meeting with the Hathei, Tean, and Umal, his most trusted military minds. The room is dark despite the festival lighting outside, and the people are silently praying instead of reveling for their god. Fariah stands tensely at Chid's shoulder, her hearing twitching at the lack of noise. 'Amazing that so many people can become so silent,' she thinks, wondering if the refugees from the outlying areas are among the worshippers.
"The only reason that the troops from Norte have not made it farther into the country is our troops that were posted at the passes. We must reinforce them in order to maintain our borders," Hathei says, settling his massive shoulders resolutely. "Please, my Duke, give the order."
Chid turns his pale face to look at each of the three brothers in turn. The news has upset him, and he is not entirely sure how to respond to it. "You sons of Voris have all come to the same conclusion?"
The brothers nod, slowly, and lower themselves to the floor in front of them to bow, Hathei, the oldest, taking the lead. Tean and Umal, the other sons of the dead captain, follow suit behind him. All three had chosen to serve their country by serving the Duke, and had taken up offices in the palace where they felt they could be most useful. The finery of their festival clothing brushes the pristine carpet as they do so, and Fariah's eyes are caught, for a moment, in the patterns on the clothing, and the folds in the light of the dimly lit chamber.
"Your father was lost to our people because of war," Chid says. "I would not like to lose any of you." The young Duke stands and walks to one of the covered windows to draw up the screen and look out at the worshippers on the stones below.
Fariah steps over behind him, snapping back to attention and looking out the window carefully for anyone disguised among the worshipers and refugees. Thankfully, she notices no one out of place. When the refugees arrived, she made sure to oversee the greeters so that she would know all the new faces in the castle.
"Regardless of the sacrifice our father made," Tean says, slowly getting himself back into a sitting position on folded knees, "this is the best course of action, my Duke."
"And the sacrifice was his to make," Umal says, following suit and getting to his knees on the thickly carpeted floor. "It is a sacrifice we would all gladly make for you."
Chid's face grows sad as he looks down at the worshipers. "It is not one I would ever ask of you."
Hathei sits up then, looking at Fariah over Chid's shoulder, and, feeling his eyes on her, she turns and nods minutely in reply. Chid turns to look at her, "And what do you think about this, Fari?"
"I am not the military mind that these men are," she says in a soft voice, "however, I agree with their estimation of the proper solution. Norte was repulsed early from an attack in Fanelia, and it saved the country."
Arching a brow, Chid considers that, and then turns to the brothers. He looks at the men in their rich clothing, vests over bare chests, finely spun cloth pants that leave shins and ankles bare, and he senses the spirit of their father, who had always been like a father to him, in these men. He knows he is sending Hathei into danger, but is aware that loss is a part of human existence, and that he has faced such things before. If it is Hathei's time to return to the embrace of the heavens, it is best he meet his fate as he has lived his life. "Go. Make your preparations, and lead your troops, Hathei."
The brothers all bow again, and rise to leave the room, not turning their back to Chid until they reach the door. Then, finally, they turn and exit the receiving hall quietly, out of respect for the worshippers outside.
They alone are not among the worshippers, as the Duke is not, as his Kathis is not. But no one questions the Duke, his motives or his faith.
"How do you know these things?" Chid asks Fariah once they are out of earshot, turning back to pass the cushioned seat he had vacated to look at the revelers below. "It seems incredible to me."
Fariah smiles a grim smile, straightening up and following Chid as he heads towards the Duke's private exit hallway towards his own chambers. "A little bird told me."
She is both impressed and saddened to see that there is little childhood left for the Duke of Freid to have. Impressed that a boy of twelve handles such things so well, and saddened that there are other children that are allowed no time for the infancy of their lives. Perhaps, she thinks as she watches the unmoving shadows in the hall that they head down towards Chid's quarters, there are worse things than being a Kathis child after all. Once, she recalls, and only once, she shouted at her own mother that she wished she had never been born.
It has taken the entire afternoon of riding through the cold snow of the mountains to make her decision to leave Fanelia. It would have, possibly, been easier to protect the two monarchs if she had stayed in the hills surrounding them, the countryside where bandits or soldiers of Norte could be hiding. Even the Egzardian military would not be so deadly as she in such an environment. But finally she understands her decision. The mountain country feels, she knows, like a home to her, in some disconnected way. Van is like a brother or a very close cousin. Merle is like a younger sister… and Hitomi… her heart had cracks to admit that Hitomi acts as she has always wanted her own mother to when dealing with her.
And to defend such a place, given a choice, would be easy for her to do. To stay somewhere that feels so safe to her, somewhere that she is allowed simply to be instead of being someone with a great purpose, is very tempting to her. But she knows that if she does that, if she stays… she will be the traitor that Merle and Fariah accuse her of being. And above all else, she does not want to disappoint her daughter.
So Arik stands waiting in the drawing room, and bows deeply as the two Fanelian monarchs enter. Hitomi, with pins in her clothes, puts a hand on her shoulder, instead of lowering herself, to make the other woman rise. "You don't need to bow to me. You've known me when I wasn't a queen."
"I feel it is necessary. You are a queen now, after all. And in parting it is always good to leave a good impression. Someone told me that once," Arik says, standing straight and tall before the Queen. She forces her spine to remain strong, finding her center as she does what she feels is necessary, but painful.
"Leave?" Hitomi asks, confused. She cannot truly remember exactly when Arik returned, but she knows she has not had nearly enough time to spend with the woman since then. "You only just returned. We haven't had time to…"
"This… is not my home. And there are other places where I feel I can be of more use than I can here. If war comes to Fanelia, I am sure that the two of you and Fanelia will survive. It is not so easy to assure the rest of the world's safety. The King," Arik says with a smile, nodding to Van, who remains a step behind where Hitomi has moved forward, "has his country well in hand, Queen Hitomi. And Merle will defend you to the death."
Turning a green eye on Van at hearing that about Merle, Hitomi continues, "But what about you? How can you save the entire world?"
Arik smiles and shrugs her shoulders simply. There is no real answer to that, and the mere question makes her feel heavy again, as she has not since retiring to Fanelia to rest, as it were. "You did."
Blinking, Hitomi takes a step back, and Van puts a hand on the small of her back to steady her, an amused twist to his lips and a chuckle in his voice. "She's right you know."
"But… Tristan will expect to find you…" Hitomi stammers, gathering her wits about her once more, swiftly, in a manner she learned in the seasons since her husband's disappearance. "Tristan will look for you here."
"Tristan may…" Arik takes a deep breath and meets Hitomi's green eyes with forced-calm gray ones in the winter light of the drawing room. She steels herself for what she is about to say, afraid that in saying it she will make it come to pass, "He may be dead. If he is not then he is in hands as good as my own, and he wished… wishes me to have nothing more to do with helping him. I will respect his wishes and refrain from sharing his danger… but I cannot sit idly by and let the world fall to pieces when I could have had a hand in saving it."
"Arik…" Hitomi starts, her eyes brimming with kindness. She takes a step forward, the thick robes rustling about her as she does so.
"Please, Hitomi," Arik says, turning towards the window to escape the compassion of the Queen's green eyes, "don't try to change my mind. It's already made up. It's who I am. Or at the very least, who I strive to be." She turns her face again towards them, and offers the king and queen a warm smile. "I'll be leaving in the morning. The two of you have other things to worry about than what happens to me. I have kept myself aloof of the two of you because I did not want to become entwined in things here… in things that do not need me. You will have a child to care for soon. And all the happiness that that brings." The tall Kathis woman sweeps herself into a very low formal bow.
Hitomi falls silent, watching Arik, her eyes watching something else entirely, and Van moves his hand from her back to her waist, pulling her against him gently. "At least let us supply you for the journey," he says. "Winter in the mountains can be dangerous."
"Of course," Arik says, straightening up. She smiles at him. "Traveling alone is much more dangerous than in pairs."
Chuckling in amusement, Van shakes his head. "That's debateable," he says. "Just a different kind of danger."
Merle, who has watched from the edge of the room, and recognizes Hitomi's vacant expression, steps forward. "Alright, enough of this," the tall cat woman says, "Queen Hitomi has a fitting to finish for a ceremony to announce the heir. I'm sure you have packing to do, Arik." She separates the group of people deftly, putting a firm hand on Van's arm to direct him to draw Hitomi from the room.
With a puzzled look, Van withdraws, taking the absent seeming Queen with him, wondering what Merle is about.
Merle accompanies Arik herself, one hand on the other Kathis woman's elbow as the two of them pass through halls, at first in silence. Halfway to their destination, Arik dares to ask, "Will Hitomi be all right? She seemed…" she trails off, glancing up and down the hall for servants in an effort to remain discrete.
"My Queen took on the entire world before because she had visions of destruction and death. Sometimes I fear she still has them," Merle says in a harsh voice.
"Fear?" Arik asks. "It is not so uncommon a thing to have premonitions, among the Draconians… I would think that-"
"The Queen, not the King," Merle hisses, guiding Arik down the hallway swiftly towards her room. "And she is delicate, in some respects. Seeing such things surely scared her… at times it appeared to hurt her. I will do anything I can to keep such things from happening again."
"I am certain she will be just fine," Arik says in a reassuring tone, stopping just outside her door as they reach it. "If I have caused such a thing, I apologize, and hope you will take her my apologies."
"It is enough for me to hear it from your lips," Merle says. "Please, have a safe journey, and let me know if there is anything you will require for your departure."
Without waiting for a response, Merle turns and heads down the hallway. She cannot bear to think that anyone would willingly hurt Hitomi. Just as she hates to think that there are people who would attack Lord Van.
The forces from Norte are met by strong resistance from the Freidan troops on the borders, and the border troops are soon reinforced by the bulk of the military. Both sides fight bravely, the Norte troops with all the ferocious savagery of people who believe they are in the right, and the Freidan troops with the intensity of defending wolves.
By the time the battle is finished, the ground in the mountain pass is red with blood and littered with bodies of the fallen. The snow has been turned to ice and the wind flaps standards forlornly.
But there are more bodies of the Norte troops than Freidan, and the losses the invaders have suffered are worse than those of the defenders. Hathei, wounded but still astride his large horse, stands with his sword drawn at the head of his army and waits to see what the Norte general will do.
The Norte general, a haggard looking man in his armor, kicks his horse's sides and turns, heading back in the direction that they marched from. Unconvinced, Hathei dispatches a unit to follow him down the path, and turns his own horse to retreat to the encampment for treatment of his wounds.
Allen passes down the hallways, having finished playing with Exeter for the afternoon, again amazed at what duties there are to being Senior Knight Caeli that he had never dreamed there would be, and is surprised to be almost knocked down by a messenger walking quickly in the opposite direction with his head down.
"My sincerest apologies, sir knight!" the young messenger says quickly as he looks up and realizes whom he has nearly knocked over. He bows and begins collecting the papers he dropped.
With a frown, Allen starts to snap that he should be much more aware of himself when one of the papers catches his eye. Bending down, he picks it up, and is surprised to see that it bears Eries's seal and signature. "Where did you get these papers?" he demands in a quiet voice.
"I was called to the princess's room to collect them by Lady Celena," the messenger says, a nervous expression on his face. The Senior Knight is known to be fairly volatile, and his temper as quick as his sword. "They are headed for the King in the library…"
Narrowing his blue eyes dangerously, Allen rises, dropping the paper to the floor again. "Carry on," he says, heading down the plushly carpeted hallway at a quicker pace than before, more intent on reaching his destination than before.
After his usual visitations of Exeter, Allen has made a habit of visiting his freshly betrothed princess. It has escaped his notice that she has been dealing with paperwork in his absence. After her accident, in his mind, Allen had been finished with his respect for Dryden, though he grudgingly kept up with the motions of his position when it came to paying the king his due. And after his suggestion that she rest… he had thought the two of them were done with this discussion on her activities.
Making a sharp turn and heading up the stairs, his frown deepens. Celena should have mentioned something to him about this. Or Dryden…
On the proper floor, he passes the prince's governess and heads into the princess's chambers, pushing the door to the sitting room open. Two of the ladies in waiting let out high-pitched screams at his forceful throwing open of the doors, and one who maintains her head about her steps forward to block the doors to the princess's bed chamber.
"Step aside," Allen says in a tight voice.
"The princess is bathing," the lady in waiting says. "She is not to be disturbed at the moment. The doctor has ordered that she soak in a mineral bath to aid with her recovery."
Narrowing his eyes, Allen glares at the young woman blocking his path. "When did this begin?"
The young woman blinks. "The bath or the doctor's order?" she asks, confused.
"The bath," Allen says, voice straining as he forces himself to maintain calm. "And how much longer?"
Behind the young woman, the door opens, just enough to let a person through, and Celena steps out of the bed chambers. "That's enough, Urea," she says. "The three of you, go inside and dress the princess to receive Sir Schezar."
After a chorus of polite, "Yes ma'am," the three younger women head past Allen and make their way inside the princess's chambers, the youngest closing door firmly behind themselves.
"When were you going to tell me about all this?" Allen asks, rounding on his sister as soon as they are alone, not bothering to keep such tight control on his voice in her presence.
"When my lady told me to, brother," Celena replies, stepping past him and taking a seat on one of the couches in the sitting room. "It's never been my job to report her every action to you. What made you think that changed?"
He starts to speak up, but holds his tongue entirely at that. Not that Eries would mind if he confided in his sister, he feels. Simply that there are always listening ears around the palace. The sobering thought spreads calm throughout him. There is no sense in punishing his sister for something she has had no control over.
Celena frowns at her brother's renewed calm. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"There is nothing to tell," Allen says, crossing the room and sitting down opposite his sister. "Nothing yet anyway. And nothing here."
"Sometimes I feel more like your prisoner than your sister," Celena says in a cold voice, rising as the door opens. "My lady will see you now, Sir Schezar," she extends a hand towards the open doorway where the youngest of the other three ladies in waiting stands, holding it open for him to enter.
Allen bows his head politely and heads inside. Celena turns with an annoyed frown and heads out into the hallway, still flushed and a little disoriented from the scent of the hot minerals and steam of the princess's bath. It was all so familiar…
Inside, Allen is almost disturbed to find that Eries is sitting upright in bed and watching him with unapproachable blue eyes. He sets his chin and makes a formal bow to her that he has not since she has been ill.
"Princess," he says in a respectful voice, wary of the ladies taking up small occupations around the room just out of his eyesight.
Eries holds up a hand to still his lips and then claps her hands together twice. The three young women step over to her bedside and curtsy. Pointing to one, Eries motions the other two out of the room. Reluctantly, the two young women do so, and the eldest of the three of them curtsies again and returns to arranging the princess's dresses in her armoire.
"I happened to run into your messenger today," Allen says, disregarding the girl's presence and taking a seat beside the bed. "I thought you understood it best that you recover before taking on the council again."
Blue eyes unchanging, Eries reaches down beside the bed and takes out writing supplies, on which she writes her response.
You understood that, Sir Schezar. Without my intervention, this country would be at war.
"That may well be, but without you, there is little holding this country together at the moment."
The feathered plume dips in ink once more and Eries writes again.
I am not as weak as you take me to be.
Frustrated, Allen gets to his feet. "I have never considered you weak, princess, but you were gravely injured recently and-"
He is interrupted by the scratching of the plume's tip against the paper. Turning back to her, he looks down to see what she has written once she stops.
So were you.
Once he has read it, she continues.
I expect no less of myself than I do of others.
Allen sighs. "I am only being so cautious because I worry for your health, princess."
Eries sighs as well, writing again.
I know.
With an annoyed cough, Allen sits down in the chair beside her bed again, still feeling the healing cuts and bruises on his own body as he does so. Wounds he thought had healed fully before… Eries writes something else, and hands the paper to him.
Now, tell me the day's news.
But at the end she has written, just once, his name.
Allen.
Blinking, Allen looks up and sees that her eyes have softened, and that there is a faint smile on her lips, one that brightens up her face even in the dreary overcast light filtering into the room. Allen smiles, sighing again, and nods. At least, he thinks to himself, the day is not completely ruined.
He sets the writing supplies beside her bed, folding the paper she wrote on and tucking it into a pocket. "There is word of an attack on Freid," he says, prepared for her response.
Pale fingers grip the covers tightly, and Eries's soft expression turns to one that is disturbed. Allen reaches over and loosens her hand from the covers, taking it in his own. "I am certain he will be fine. Chid is ensightful and has good men with him. I am sure the borders will guarded, even during the winter celebration."
But even as Allen says these words, he is uncertain at their veracity. His expression changes, and he feels Eries's hand tighten around his own. He looks down at their hands in confusion, and then up at her face.
An expression of understanding is writ across her features, and Allen feels his own heart soften at the sight of it. 'He is her nephew,' he reminds himself, 'but she never had to accept him as my son.'
Glancing over his shoulder at the young woman still checking the fall of dresses in the large wooden wardrobe, Allen lifts Eries's hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "Thank you," he says softly.
Bundled in a dark cloak, Arik sits on the horse's back as it carries her out of the Fanelia castle. The creature hangs its head, as though to tell her it is too early in the morning for such things, and plods up the path away from the city. The winter skies are streaked with a pale light that suggests morning, but the snowflakes in the air hold the lie of the lingering nighttime.
Merle's words are fresh in her mind. The catwoman had stopped her as she drew herself from her bath early that morning. The water had been cold enough to make the cold room seem warm. Merle's eyes had been intense, disapproving, and unashamed as she walked in on Arik, despite her nudity.
Arik had kept her back from facing the younger Kathis, and met her eyes evenly as she imparted her advice. "You should probably go to Asturia. It is one of the few countries where there is no Kathis… and if what Van says of Eries being ill is true, you will be needed. Don't go into this thinking you aren't going to make it back." Nothing more. And then Merle turned and left the bathing room, and Arik to her dressing for the winter journey.
In light of the encounter, Arik decides to make Asturia her first stop. Perhaps, she thinks, she will be able to help them retrieve Millerna, in some manner. At the very least, she thinks silently to herself, she can die trying.
Her stomach protests again, and her heavy heart twists at the thought.
"Perhaps I will survive," she admits grudgingly as the horse makes his way into the hills. "But what is there to come back to?" she asks the wind. She rides out of the capital, and by mid-morning she is already in the mountains outside of the city. Around her she can smell the scent of dragon, and hear the rumble of them as they prowl around. The lethargic horse is much more skittish and alert, and moves more swiftly.
It is when she senses one directly in front of her that Arik pulls the reigns back and halts the horse, dismounting and turning to tie it to the nearest tree. "I wonder if this is what you did, in the end, Varie," Arik asks, heading up towards where the dragon is blocking her path and somehow waiting. In the back of her mind, she sees Tristan's face, kind and caring. "Was Goau like Tristan, Varie?"
The creature is a sight to see. It is enormous, with dark green scales that are graying with what must obviously be age. And at the sight of it, Arik feels a pang of fear. 'What was I thinking?' a small voice inside her head asks. But she squares her shoulders and gazes with her gray eyes at the beast's large glowing red eyes. "Strange eyes, for a dragon," Arik says in a soft voice.
The beast smiles, a broad mouth full of sharp gleaming teeth greeting her. Arik takes a step forward, the little voice shouting in protest. The dragon's eyes blink and stare at her, and Arik's eyes widen. "… surely no…"
In truth, Freid is not the real reason for the attack on the small Duchy's borders. While a small portion of the army rides to Freid, the bulk of the forces swoop down on Zaibach.
The Duchy of Zaibach, re-established after the war that engulfed all of Gaea, is unprepared for the attack.
Due to sanctions against the large country by the other nations of Gaea, their military is a formality at best. The Norte soldiers march across the borders, taking care of the small opposing force with little problem. Those who oppose the invaders into the country meet a bloody end.
More swiftly than during the attack on Egzardia, the Norte soldiers reach the capital, and the last line of defense of the entire country.
The Duke stands, looking down from the rampants of the castle, and feels his heavy heart grow weary. Such a life was he appointed to when he was elected leader of the New Duchy of Zaibach. He turns his head, looking back towards the stairs that lead down to the interior of the palace. He never intended to bring anyone else into such a fate. Not his wife… certainly not his children.
Turning his brown eyes back on the small group of his loyal soldiers, Gayo feels his heart sink in his chest. His wife…
Monarchs, he thinks, grow prepared for circumstances such as these. Invasions, wars. But her family, though filled with beautiful women and power-hungry men, has never been truly of royal bloodline. And so it is unfair to expose her to something like this, he thinks, something she cannot possibly be prepared for.
He hears footsteps on the stone of the small walkway, and turns his head to regard whoever interrupts him on this evening when a hopeless fight looms just at the edge of the horizon.
He is more than surprised to see his wife.
"You should be inside," Gayo says, "in the hold with the ladies and their servants. It will not be safe to be here much longer."
"It will not be safe to be anywhere in Zaibach, much longer, my love," Sierra says, stepping up beside him. She wears the same plain gray gown she wore when they were first introduced, a silver color only a few shades darker than her skin, and her long wavy black hair hangs down her back.
Gayo straightens at the sight of her in the moonlight, his own stiff military jacket making him look larger than life.
"I wanted to see for myself what was coming, and to be by your side when it came."
His chest tightens to hear her say those words, and Gayo smiles at his much shorter wife, putting a hand against her back. "It is good that you have come then," he says. He extends his other hand towards the moonlit countryside stretched below the castle. "The darkness, there."
Sierra trains gray eyes on it and is surprised at what she sees, "It moves."
"The army of Norte dresses in black armor, and moves like a poison through the night," he says. "It stretches farther than we can see now, and as wide as the mountain valley leading here."
She lifts a pale hand to his chest, turning to look at him with hopelessness in her eyes. "The children are downstairs," she says in a hushed voice. "They will be safe."
Drawing her against his chest, Gayo nods silently, his dark hair mingling with hers, "You should be with them. I want you all to be safe. This is not a thing for you."
There is silence for a moment, holding nothing more than the flapping breeze moving the standards that line the ramparts of the castle, and then Sierra speaks. "When we were married, there was nothing in my vows that said 'war is not a thing for me,'" she peers up at him over his stiff military collar. "I am with you, whatever poison wends its way here." She blinks tears away, "For however long there is left."
Gayo lifts a gloved hand to brush away the tears from his wife's eyes and says, "I pray only that there is longer than the night."
Allen steps into the library, and bows stiffly to Dryden, who is seated in his throne with Exeter in his lap. Another futile meeting that morning, but the Knight could recall his exchange with the princess the day before, and so his feathers were not nearly as ruffled as they might have been, had he not known of the documents she had written and sent to them. Her kindness… he focuses himself on the task at hand. Dryden has never been an easy opponent.
The young prince claps his hands at the sight of the Knight Caeli, and Allen, as he looks up, smiles to the young boy.
"How is she?" Dryden asks, voice haunted by guilt as he looks down at Allen. His arm is casually around his son's waist, though it is obviously less an embrace and more a matter of keeping the Crown Prince from falling from the high seat.
"She is wounded, and has been for some time," Allen replies, " but if you really wished to know, my king, you could always visit her."
"After what happened… I do not think she would see me." Dryden lifts his son and hands him off to his governess, who is standing awkwardly to the side of the throne.
Allen restrains himself from rolling his eyes and heaves a sigh instead. "She has no visitors now, none but me. Why would she turn them away if she had them? At the very least you could have Exeter visit her."
"I do not want to expose my son…" Dryden looks down at the young boy, who smiles brightly up at his father from the arms of his governess.
"Where's auntie, daddy?" the prince asks, putting his arms around her neck.
The two men meet one another's eyes. Dryden speaks up slowly, "Your aunt is resting now, Exeter."
"I want her to play with me," the crown prince says, struggling in his maid's grip to get free. "She knows games. You never play games, daddy."
"I will play games with you this afternoon. I have work to do now."
"You always have work to do," Exeter replies, turning his face from his father to look at Allen. "Will you play with me again?"
Blue eyes fixed on Dryden, Allen nods, a pleasant smile on his lips. "Of course I will play with you, my prince. But only if you let the king and I speak for now."
Exeter nods, smiling, and the governess curtsies as best she can with arms full of him, and heads out of the library, leaving Allen and Dryden to stare at one another.
"It is not my fault Eries has no visitors, nor is it my fault she was wounded."
"You are my king, and I would not openly say this," Allen says in a tight voice. "But that is a lie if ever I heard one from your lips."
Dryden leans forward, arching a brow. "If ever? Are you implying that you have?" He taps his fingers on the arm wrest of his chair. "Eries isn't well enough to save you from punishment this time, Sir Schezar."
"Or to protect me from answering your inquiry," he counters, "I did not loose Millerna for you, either," Allen says in a cross voice. "And Norte is a military wasteland. There are no people in the streets… no farms. Everyone is in the military encampments. Women… children… the castle itself is smoke blackened by all the forges out in front… and there are guards everywhere. We barely made it into the castle before we were overwhelmed. The soldiers in Norte are hungry, and we were not of the same urgency." Bowing his head without lowering his eyes, Allen steps back. "So if you punish me, know that you would punish any man you sent there."
One hand reaching up to stroke his beard, Dryden frowns, a sour expression on his handsome face. Knowing he will never survive Eries's wrath if he disposes of the knight, he changes his tactics in dealing with him, doing his best to ignore his anger at the continued absence of his beloved wife. "It seems that the two of us are bound to this family then."
Blue eyes snap up to attention and Allen blinks at Dryden. "What do you mean?"
Dryden offers a smile in return. "I've always been fascinated with behavior, Allen. Marlene's was peculiar… Millerna's in regards to you was as well… and Eries… managed to stay aloof of you, but in the end it is all the same, isn't it? I only pray that she is the sister you do not hurt."
"I never hurt Millerna."
"Perhaps," Dryden says. "Or perhaps she never told you. Either way… I am certain Marlene was hurt when you left her to return as you were ordered to. … and Eries…"
Straightening his shoulders, Allen lets his expression go blank.
"It took some time to query the right sources… and much thinking. But I've finally figured out your connection to her. Notwithstanding your strolls in the garden and giving her advice."
"And what would that be?" Allen asks. Again he feels old anger welling up in his chest, much older than his recent displeasure with the merchant turned king. Again he knows that his response is unwarranted. Dryden is a scholar. Dryden is a man who likes to know, and knows how to press buttons.
"Your betrothal. Didn't know about it yourself, did you?" Dryden leans on one elbow smugly, his tall chair making him seem larger than he has any right to, given the nature of the conversation they are having. "Or at least for a long time you didn't. You may know now… but it's a little too late to know it now."
Pride hurting, Allen sets his lips in a closed line. Dryden often tried this, before he married Millerna and became king. Goading Allen into telling things that the knight did not want to reveal…
"That's not going to work this time, sire," Allen says, bowing at the waist in stiff formality, his mind focused on Eries's eternally calm expression.
"It was worth a try," Dryden says.
"Many things are worth trying, that does not mean they will succeed."
With a roll of his eyes, Dryden lifts a hand and shakes it at Allen. "You've made your point, knight, enough disrespect for one conversation."
"Now if you will excuse me, sire, I promised Exeter I would go play with him, as usual," Allen starts to turn to go.
Bristling at the idea that his son should be raised more by the knight than himself, Dryden pushes himself heavily out of his chair. "There's no need. I will play with my son."