Severed

by Eboni

When a premature separation experiment leaves Dilandau weak and disoriented, his Dragonslayers must protect him from himself and unexpected enemies from within the country they are sworn to protect. Warning: Shounen ai

22. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Hey! Sorry this update is so late. This really and truly is the chapter that doesn't end lol. In fact, it's not done, and I don't know whether to be calling this Chapter 21 Part 1 and the chapter to follow Part 2. Anyway, do not try to read this in one sitting if you don't have a lot of time. This is the length of two chapters together lol. I had a lot of fun, and I hope you have fun reading it. I will be putting up the next part very, very soon.

Reviewer Responses:

Squizles: Hello! Thanks for the review. I hope you enjoy this extra long new chapter ;).

Kou-Kagerou: Hey chic. I missed this month's..or rather last month's deadline by a long shot this time lol. But this monster is extra long to make up for it...and it's incomplete. I hope to have the rest of the chapter ready for next week. I hope you like this better than the last chapter. If you don't, remember I'm not done :). Anywhoo, you'll e-mail me and let me know what worked and what didn't lol! Love ya!

Strangedream: Lol, don't you love roommate interventions? (Well, not when you're the one having to do the intervening, but it's always interesting ;). The relationship between Dilandau, Celena, and Valeska is kinda muddy, and it'll clear in a chapter or two ;). Lol, if Van made you giggle last chapter, you'll roll about this one ;). Glad you like Folken; he's hard to characterize, and I'm always hoping that I'm not making him too unbelievable. If you've got B blood, Dilly will accept it :). I love long-winded reviews. If you haven't noticed, I'm long-winded lol, and we long-winded people should stick together :D. The one-shot... I had so much trouble trying to get this out and still missing my deadline, I didn't get a chance to write one. Maybe next time :), but thanks for the idea. I've noted it. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like the chapter! Take care!

Imaginary Youkai: Hey! Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Spoon no Miko: Lol, yeah they are thick, but people do notice that something's not right with Dilandau... but no one's making a big deal about it...yet ;). I think I had too much fun with Van in this chapter, lol. I hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing!

LadySnowBlood: Thanks! Hope you like the chapter!

Omnipotent Pyro: I think Van should maybe look into therapy too. He can come to me. I have my degree is psychology. I wonder how much to charge royalty? Hmm... lol! Glad you think I'm funny; I hope you'll still think I'm funny in this chapter! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Koneri: Lol! Well, Hitomi's not in this chapter either. She is rather annoying. I hope you'll still enjoy my weird sense of humor. Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Nikku: So, so, so, sorry! Look, I've updated now, and the chapter is 30 pages long, and I'm still not done. The rest of the chapter will be up in a week. I got to page 30 and realized it would take me another week to finish if I put everything into that I wanted to, so I decided to go ahead and post so Nikku would stop "bugging" me ;). Lol! I don't mind. I sent you an e-mail back, but the e-mail system is being screwy and I got a delivery failure notice. So very glad you liked the last chapter and Miguel's bath lol! I think I pretty much gave you feedback in a bunch of various e-mails lol. I don't remember what all I told you, but as always, e-mail me with your questions. I'll be at work tomorrow and you know how nice I can be when I'm bored ;). Take care, I hope you like this, and I'm busy finishing up the last part of the chapter :). Much love and thanks!

Skippys Cat: Hey girl! I e-mailed you with feedback already too, lol. I'm sorry this update came so late. November was nuts! I don't think there was a time when something wasn't going on. From serving on a jury of 12 for a rape case, from cross-training on the job, to sister's wrecking cars and having hand surgery, I have not been able to find time to just concentrate and write. To make up for it, this chapter...or rather...first part of chapter is 30 pages long lol. I know you always say you don't mind the length, and I hope you meant it, lol. I'll have the next part of the chapter up very soon. I really didn't want to end this one where I did, but I had to. This chapter was getting out of control lol. I hope you like it. Thanks for reviewing; I love hearing from you :). P.S. How did your story for Writer's Month come out?

Pocketfirefairy: Hehehehe, you'll just have to see what I do about the pairing.... Muhahahahaha! Thanks for reviewing chic! Take care!

Jhaylin: Lol, last chapter was your favorite? Cool :). I'm glad you liked it. I hope you like this one just as much! Thanks for reviewing and take care!

---

Chapter 21

Dilandau caught Van's sword as he swung it downward with his own blade and forced the raven-haired monarch back a step, before spinning away from him and gaining some much needed distance.

Stinging sweat ran into his eyes, but he kept his eyes on his quarry. Patience and intense concentration would be the key to winning this game. He heard random cheers from his Slayers and some students that had stayed after lessons to watch Dilandau and Van's duel. Folken would kill him, if he knew what was going on. Dilandau was supposed to be meeting him at about this time, but Van's invitation had been impossible to resist.

Something in him wanted to beat Van, crush the King, and take back his lost honor. Dilandau was the more skilled fighter, and by all means, he never should have lost to Fanelia.

Those thoughts were maybe the only things keeping Dilandau on his toes. His muscles groaned at the extra exertion and his cells complained of fatigue. He hummed to himself quietly, keeping his breathing deep and even and trying to gentle the thudding of his heart.

He was pleased to note, however, that Van was panting and showing signs of wear too, perhaps more so than Dilandau.

Dilandau feinted and made a move to disarm Van, but was thrown back; he almost stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. Very good, your majesty, but I've got better.

He parried a few more of Van's moves, gracefully dancing out of the way of the other's royal sword. Van was getting frustrated; Dilandau could see it in his cinnamon eyes. The fight had gone on for much longer than it should have, because Dilandau was much too good of an opponent for Van to take down, and Dilandau- after showing rookies the proper way to hold a sword all day- lacked the arm strength to really go on the attack and claim a swift victory for himself. His only chance was to draw the fight out long enough for Van to get clumsy and give him an opening.

There it was. Dilandau kept one eye on Van and the other on his feet. The King was wearing the most ridiculous lace-up boots. They were high in courtly fashion, but low in practicality on the battle field for laces could come undone and be...

Van let out a tiny squeal as Dilandau surged forward in a false thrust and he leapt back only to find that Dilandau's foot was on his untied boot lace. Windmilling his arms comically, the dark haired boy fell in an ungainly heap of arms and legs amiss hoots and cackles from onlookers.

Dilandau chuckled himself, touching his sword to Van's neck lightly, relaxing his left arm and moping damp hair from his forehead. He did a quick assessment of the room, smiling at the boy-recruits that stared at his with stars in their eyes and his Slayers who sat, rolling their eyes at his cockiness, but clapping for him all the same.

Van grumbled his concession of defeat and Dilandau withdrew his sword, letting its tip rest on the smooth wooden floor of the once ballroom turned gym. The King was sitting up, rubbing his backside and trying to hide an embarrassed blush by keeping his head bowed.

"Good match," Dilandau offered to the defeated man and extended a hand down to him. I beat you, Van, like I should have the first time we met sword to sword. Though...

I'm glad I didn't win that time. I would have killed you, and I'm sure you knew that.

Van took Dilandau's hand, squeezing his fingers and Dilandau bit his lip on the hiss of pain that threatened to escape. Shit! He'd forgotten... Van's strong fingers pressed down hard on the injection site he'd foolishly let Folken stick in him.

Stupid... stupid...

He endured the pain and pulled Van to his feet, taking back his hand and flexing his fingers cautiously. He felt a slight trickle and a tinge of sticky dampness on his skin that wasn't sweat.

Great. It seemed like he bled for any damn thing nowadays.

"We...um...should do this again, you know? I mean, not today. Some other time, when I've gotten better. In fact..."

Dilandau was paying too much attention to his hand and trying to tuck his sword away to notice Van's stuttering. Dammit, his hands were starting to shake and he was having trouble getting his blade into its sheath. Miguel was at his side, appearing from nowhere and taking his sword from him.

"You ought to have your sword smoothed and sharpened, Lord Dilandau. It looked a little dull from where I was sitting. I'll take it down to the smith this evening."

Thank you, Miguel, for sparing me the embarrassment of having to either ask for help or fumble my sword like a beginner in public.

Dilandau smiled at Miguel and turned his attention back to Van, who had stopped speaking and was now staring at Miguel in the oddest way. Dilandau frowned. Van and Miguel could often be found staring at one another, whether it be during practice, meetings, or meals. Miguel had been behaving very strangely as of late, and Dilandau had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the King.

Was there an... attraction there? Miguel had always seemed to be aroused by women, but that didn't mean one man couldn't change that.

Could Van and Miguel...?

Dilandau blinked, chewing the inside of his cheek and wanting to shake his head. What Miguel did was his business, and Dilandau would leave it alone. He shook Van's hand with his left while letting his throbbing right hand rest at his side. He prayed it wasn't bleeding much. He had on light colored pants, and blood was very hard to get out of creme washed wool.

"Great fight King Van; I especially like the part where you fell on your ass after Lord Dilandau stepped on your girly boots," Viole teased, coming up alongside Van and leaning on the King's shoulder, smirking at him devilishly.

Shaking his head, Dilandau parted ways with Van, Miguel, and Viole and joined the rest of his Slayers on the long mat spread a few in front of the large room's glass wall.

Dallet passed a canteen of water to him as soon as he'd gotten situated, and Gatty tossed a medium sized towel into his lap.

"Overdo it, milord?" Shesta asked wryly, after watching Dilandau drink deeply from the canteen and then pour some of the water over his head. The blond took his right wrist and placed two slim fingers against the pulse. Dilandau grimaced lightly, and Shesta frowned, rolling up his sleeve a bit and raising his brows. "Did he cut you?"

Dilandau shook his head. "I helped him up with the wrong hand." He glanced at the damage. Damn... Marie was going to have to reinsert it... again. The red-headed doctor was not going to be happy and neither was Folken.

Dilandau really should be meeting him now, but he had to take a shower first. He didn't want Folken to be able to tell how many activities he'd participated in by body odor alone.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Lord Folken and Dr. Marie by now?" Shesta asked, reading Dilandau's mind.

"Maybe."

"You might want to shower first. Folken will kill you, if he catches wind of what all you did this afternoon," Guimel smirked. "You'd better not use the one in your room though. He'll see you sneaking past."

"Well then what one should I use then? I'm not going to the public baths." Dilandau shuddered at the thought. Astorian soldiers were quite disgusting, more disgusting than the villagers even, and he didn't want to imagine all of the bacteria and fungus he could pick up in their showers.

"Well, you could..." Shesta began, peering out the glass wall at the royal stables

below.

"Ow! Hey!"

Dilandau and Shesta looked up at the sound of the King's raised voice. "Sorry," Miguel was saying. "You really should tie your shoes, Your Highness. Would you like help? Do you know how the little bunny hops around the log?"

Van was on the floor again, glaring up at Miguel and Viole who looked the picture of perfect innocence when they noticed they had the eyes of everyone else in the room.

"Miguel and Viole have been picking at the King since he joined us. Should I have a word with them?" Gatty arched a blond brow and nodded in their direction.

Dilandau shrugged with a light frown. "Miguel and Viole pick at everyone, if you haven't noticed. They're really becoming quite the team."

"Hm," Shesta hummed, letting his lashes droop a bit.

"What?"

"Just thinking..." Shesta murmured, studying Miguel and Viole a moment. "You could ask Lord Van if you can use his bath. I'm sure he has a privy connected to his room that's larger than all of ours combined."

Guimel blinked and nudged Dilandau in the knee lightly with his elbow. "That's a good idea. Van's room isn't anywhere near where Folken, Marie, and Pearce like to haunt, and I'm sure he'll let you use it."

Dilandau rested his chin on the knee Guimel had nudged. "What makes you so sure?"

Shesta took a swig from Dilandau's canteen and gazed at Dilandau thoughtfully. "I never thought I'd ever think this of him, especially after-- well times we're not supposed to talk about anymore-- but... Lord Van's a decent guy. He's really trying to start anew with us, and I think he'd do anything to gain more favor. I wonder what made him grow up and when it happened?"

"Maybe around the same time it happened for us," Gatty snorted. "Zaibach's caused everyone hell, and... I'm glad these people...people that we've hurt... are so willing to let us help them stop the country we used to kill for. Schezar was right in some ways, you know. I wouldn't trust us either, if I was in his boots."

"And be glad you aren't, because they're unimaginably tight. I bet old Goldie Locks the cradle robber has corns the size of the hives Miguel gets when he uses lilac scented... OW! Shit, Miguel! That hurt!" Viole and Miguel had somehow managed to sneak up on them, and Viole had flopped down behind Dilandau, putting gentle arms around his neck and hugging him casually.

Miguel glared darkly at his impish comrade and sat on the other side of Gatty. "What are we discussing?"

"Our meal plans. I think we should go out tonight, guys. Remember that tavern we went to a few nights ago. The girl that worked there has the largest breasts I've ever seen, and she said if I came back..."

Dilandau made a face at Guimel's choice of conversation and pushed himself up from the floor. Gods, his knees were stiff. If his men wanted to talk about the things they did without him, he would give them the freedom to do so out of his presence. Besides, he cringed at the sweat collecting on his back and moistening his cotton shirt, he needed to see a man about a shower.

---

Van sat on his bed with his hands folded calmly in his lap, listening to the water running in his inhabited shower. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to it; he couldn't believe he'd asked. Somehow, without Van even noticing, Dilandau had grown completely comfortable with him. One day, Dilandau was the business- minded headmaster of soldier school, lecturing Van on ways he should teach his class; the next, he was accepting challenges and undressing behind single doors and thin walls with Van... What had Van done to bring about such a change? Was it the challenge itself? A peculiar light had come on in Dilandau's eyes when Van had finally worked up the nerve to ask. Van simply wanted a little one on one time with Dilandau, but for Dilandau the spar was something else.

It was like Dilandau was proving something to himself. Van hadn't stood a chance, and as much as he thought it wouldn't matter, Van hadn't liked losing. But he was winning now wasn't he? He'd broken through some sort of wall, opened a door... maybe tomorrow he'd able to sit on the mat with Dilandau's elite and joke around.

So long as Miguel wasn't there.

Avenger had taken his hostility toward Van to another level, and he'd recruited Spirit, or Viole, to help him. While Van couldn't say he disliked Viole-- because he didn't, the boy was entertaining-- he certainly wasn't happy Viole was taking Miguel's side. The imps were putting tacks in his boots, pouring out his canteens, and taking his towels at practice.

Van knew it was them, but he just couldn't prove it! And what was worse, while he was taking the time out to get new water, locate all the sharp things in clothing, and scrounge up more towels to dry himself, he missed Dilandau.

The boy was nowhere to be found before practice, and after practice if one didn't catch him before he left, he disappeared again only to show up, sometimes, at dinner. It had something to do with Folken and the strange Zaibach woman– that wore pants– Folken had brought with him. Van had overheard some of Dilandau's men saying something about it on more than one occasion.

Why was Dilandau spending so much time with Folken?

They could be working on new battle plans and strategies. The two never failed to impress Dryden or even Allen with some of the suggestions they made to improve Astoria's defenses.

Or maybe they were having a secret affair... Nah. Not Folken. Van doubted if his brother even noticed the beautiful people that surrounded him on a day to day basis.

Maybe... Van recalled the first time he'd gazed upon Dilandau, really gazed... He was perfect, an angel, but he hadn't been well. When he'd fought him aboard the floating fortress, the boy had been delirious. Now...

Now, Dilandau was still perfect, still an angel, but he still seemed...unwell. He tried hard to hide it, but Van studied the boy so intently he noticed little things like Dilandau's hand tremors and his small appetite at the table.

Van frowned, not liking to think that there could be something wrong with Dilandau. He tensed when he realized the water had stopped. What could Dilandau be doing in there? Would he dry off and put the sweaty clothes he had worn in back on, or would he come out with one of the towels hanging in Van's bathroom around his slim hips, asking to borrow something?

Was Van ready for that?

No...no... he didn't think so. Van was starting to shake with anxiety. Oh gods... He didn't know what to do. He knew he would behave strangely and make a total ass of himself, if Dilandau came out half dressed. Oh no... oh no...

Van really couldn't see Dilandau wanting to put his sweaty garments back on, so the possibility of the object of his affection coming out in a towel toga was about to be reality, if he didn't think fast.

Quickly, he scrambled to his drawers, pulling out a long, ruby tunic and searching for a pair of new undergarments that he hadn't worn yet. There. He laid the objects on the bed. There was a significant difference in Van and Dilandau when it came to height, but not width. Dilandau shouldn't have a problem with the shirt or the underwear. Pants would be a problem.

He hurried to the bathroom door, knocking lightly. "Dilandau?" His voice was so high! He coughed lightly, clearing his throat. "I've got a shirt and a pair of undershorts I've never worn that might fit you. You want to try them on?"

Good! That was good! Van patted himself on the back with an invisible third hand.

There was no answer for a minute, only the sound of a body shifting soft materials around, then the door opened a crack and a pale hand waved its fingers at Van, wishing to accept the offered clothing. Van tried to keep his head turned away from the crack, focusing on the far wall as his clothes were taken from him. A small click let Van know the lavatory door was closed again and he sank down on the floor, spreading his legs out in front of him.

Phew.

He sat, breathing deeply and composing himself for a few moments, before standing again. Dilandau was being awfully quiet in there. Van knocked again. "Hey, are you ok?"

Silence, then a soft sigh. "Do you have any bandages?"

Bandages? Van thought in alarm. He was hurt? When had that happened? Did Van... No, no, he'd been careful. Van hadn't cut Dilandau. He rummaged through his closet; he had a box... ah. He found it behind his tower of boots. He emerged from the deep closet with the small box of first aide supplies Millerna had given him a while ago.

"I've got plenty, Dilandau..." Van's skin tingled as he prepared himself to voice the next question. "Do you need any help?"

"No..." The bathroom door opened a crack again and Van turned the first aide box sideways so that he could slide it through the small opening. He felt Dilandau take it, and he let go. The door closed again and locked.

Hmph.

Van went back to his bed, plopping down and twiddling his thumbs nervously. Dilandau was in his room alone– again– without any sign of Miguel or Viole, or anyone else. This would be an excellent time for Van to ask Dilandau to... to go somewhere with him, somewhere nice. Van didn't know if Dilandau had been to visit the market place after dark. Merle had told him it was a very different and interesting place at night, and the bars and taverns were all open at that time.

They... could talk about weapons, maybe visit a sword booth, and other things. Van wanted to know more about Dilandau. He was beautiful, he was smart, he was idolized by all those he taught, but there was more to him. Van had heard Viole mention something about drawings.

Was Dilandau an artist?

Van wanted something, anything on Dilandau that would make him more than just a soldier. He wanted to know how to please him aside from being a good fighter and instructor.

The bathroom door opened, the light clicked off, and Dilandau stepped out.

He wore the soft off-white pants he'd worn in and Van's short sleeved tunic, revealing pale, graceful arms toned with slim muscles. His right hand was wrapped loosely in the bandages, and Van stared as the beige dressings slowly saturated with bright red blood.

"Dilandau, your hand... Did I...?" Van was ready to burst into apology. Gods, he'd hurt him after all!

"No," Dilandau shook his head, amused by Van's reaction. "I... did something stupid earlier. My fault entirely."

"Oh..." Van's mouth worked. Ask him now!

"Thank you for letting me use your bathroom. I didn't make too much of a mess in there. Can I leave my dirty laundry here? I'll send someone to get it. I don't want Folken to see it."

"Uh...sure," Van scratched his head. Dilandau didn't want Folken to see his dirty laundry. Dilandau didn't want Folken to know he had taken a shower.

What the hell was going on?

Dilandau must have caught his confused look, because he smiled, and Van almost looked around for the bells he swore he heard. "Your brother thinks too much activity in one day is bad for me, so I can't let him know what I've been doing."

"But...why would he think that? What does he care?" Van asked. "He doesn't tell me what to do."

"Because you won't let him get close enough to do so," Dilandau countered. "He cares a lot, Van, and... he's not so bad. You should talk to him. He would really like that."

Van wanted to groan. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Folken Fanel. Change the subject; change the subject... "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

Oh gods, he'd started the big question!

Dilandau blinked, staring at him. "I don't know; I wouldn't make plans with me though."

Van controlled his facial expression, but could do nothing to stifle his disappointment. "Going out with your guys?"

Dilandau raised a brow; a curious look coming over his face. "Why? Would you want to go if I was?"

Was he being coy? Dilandau was harder to read than a girl!

How to answer that... Should he say, 'yes?' No, not if Dilandau was toying with him as the smirk he wore suggested that he was. Oh man... I'm not ready for this!

"You know, Van, you don't have to dance around the issue. No one will kill you, if you tag along."

Van's eyes widened and he knew his mouth was agape. Dilandau was saying 'yes!' Dilandau wanted Van's company. Dilandau...

"You don't need me to go," Dilandau continued.

Huh?

"Just stick with Shesta and Gatty and stay away from Guimel and Viole, ok? Dallet's safe ground too, but he and Guimel are joined at the hip..."

Why does Dilandau think that I'd want to hang out with his friends without him there? Van wondered. His thoughts were spiraling out of control. How had he messed this up so badly already?

"Look, Miguel can be intimidating, but if you're persistent, he'll cave in," Dilandau was shrugging.

Miguel? What about Miguel?

"You know what? I take it back; maybe you should hang out with Viole. He can give you some pointers to help you get on Miguel's good side. Miguel may act like Viole bothers him, but he loves the guy. Make friends with Viole and you're in with Miguel."

In with Miguel?

"They usually leave the castle a few minutes before dusk. I'll tell Shesta to hold the group for you," Dilandau said, no longer looking at Van. "In fact, I'll send him to get my stuff."

"I..."

"It's ok; you don't have to say anything to me. You let me use your shower." Dilandau glanced at him again, smiling brightly. "Have fun tonight, ok. I have to go."

Dilandau gave him a slap on the back and another funny smile before leaving the room and a bewildered Van behind.

Van sat down hard on the floor and laid down, spread-eagling his arms and legs and staring up at the ceiling, willing it to fall in on him.

What the hell just happened?

Dilandau thinks I like Miguel, Miguel of all people! But he encouraged it... That was good in a way. It meant he didn't frown on strange pairings, but...but...

Miguel?

Gah! And now– he smacked himself– he was scheduled for a date with Avenger, his sidekick evil Spirit, and four others who– after Dilandau told Baby-face what he suspected– would believe he had a crush on Miguel!

What a mess!

He wished Zaibach would attack. Now would be a perfect time for battle.

Save me, Zaibach!

---

"Where is that boy? Didn't you tell him to come here right after that little practice he insisted on going to was over?" Marie was chewing on the rubber fingers of her gloves impatiently.

Folken did his best to ignore her pacing and ranting. He chose instead to go over the procedure and check the supplies for the hundredth time that day. He studied the plastic bags of purified blood for air bubbles and checked the intravenous lines for nicks and other imperfections.

He had to have something to do, anything to keep his mind off of what he and Marie were about to do.

Gods, they were taking a chance with this.

Folken and Marie hadn't tested anyone with Dilandau's exact blood type. The best they could get was blood from a universal blood donor with negative Rh factors. Dilandau's body should accept the blood, but there was always the risk of rejection. Though, Folken and Marie had at their disposal just about everything they could think of to counteract a bad reaction, neither one wanted to put Dilandau through that.

There was one person Folken hadn't tested that he felt sure had just what Dilandau needed, but Allen Schezar hadn't wanted any part of their project. Folken hadn't even told him what it was for; the man had simply figured that it had something to do with Dilandau and or his men and declined. Folken and Marie's practices, Allen had said, reflected the unnatural ways of Zaibach that he was fighting to bring an end to.

Folken had sat in the knight's private rooms wanting nothing more than to use the sharp end of the quill Allen had refused to put down to stab the man and take the sample by force. As it was, the knight never looked up from the scroll he was scribbling on and dismissed Folken with an arrogant wave of his hand.

"Where IS that boy?" Marie was saying again. "I think we should send Pearce out to look for him, Folken. Maybe he's gotten lost, or maybe he's lost his nerve and he's hiding from us! Folken are you listening to me?"

Folken blinked. The woman had planted herself directly in front of him and was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring.

"Marie, calm down. It's very unlikely that Dilandau has gotten lost, and..." He told me he'd do this. "He'll be here."

Marie sighed and sat on the tall stool across from Folken at his table, leaning forward on an elbow. "Do you think we tried hard enough, Folken? Maybe if we gave the search another week, we could find someone better. I've done transfusions before, and universal blood has worked fine, but Dilandau's case is different than those others. He'd fare better with someone of his own blood type."

"He doesn't have a week to wait, Marie, and you know that better than I do. You're the one who insisted..."

"I know I did," Marie interrupted Folken, "and I know he can't wait. His condition is what we doctors call a 'medical emergency.' In emergencies, you use what you have, but... Gods, Folken you made me break the number one rule to being a physician!"

Folken frowned, staring at Marie as she ran gloved fingers through disheveled red hair. He realized he'd never seen the woman distressed. Marie was always the cool head in any situation.

What rule had she broken?

"We're not supposed to become attached. We care for our patients and show them kindness, but we're not supposed to get close to them." Marie glanced up at Folken, light green eyes heavy with grief. "Patients die, Folken, and if we allow ourselves to feel for each one of them..." She shook her head.

Gently, Folken reached across the table, resting his large hand over Marie's smaller one. Giving her a small hint of a grin, he said, "He gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

Marie's eyes widened and she gaped at him in complete silence for a beat, before emitting a sharp bark of laughter. She squeezed the hand Folken had offered to her and shook it like a gentlemen. "Gods, you really are developing a sense of humor, and here I thought Dilandau was delirious when he'd said it." Marie released his hand, still staring at Folken in an amused way that made Folken feel warm.

She wiped at her eyes, which had been starting to water and turned her back to him. Folken watched her shoulder rise and fall as she took a deep breath. "Thank you. I really needed that. I was getting too..."

"It's ok to let me know you're scared, Marie," Folken said softly. "I am too."

Marie half-turned, and Folken could tell she wanted to say something else. Her lips parted hesitantly, but before she could form the words, the door to the lab opened.

"I'm here. Sorry, I'm late. I got held up."

Dilandau closed the door, gazing around the room then at Folken and Marie, curiously. "What's wrong?"

Folken schooled his expression quickly, hoping Dilandau hadn't been able to read any sign of doubt on his face.

"You're late; that's what's wrong!" Marie snapped, masking her fear with irritation. "And what have you done to your hand?"

Folken zeroed in on the hand Dilandau was trying to keep behind his back. "Dilandau?"

Dilandau shrugged, holding his hand out and walking toward Folken purposefully. "I think you're going to have to use my other hand. This port is busted. Where do want me?"

Folken took the injured hand in his own, when Dilandau stopped in front of him. Dilandau had tried to bind the wound, but blood was already seeping through the bandage. Slowly, Folken unwrapped the dressing to see the damage done. He heard Marie shuffling about the room, undoubtably fluffing the cushioned chair Dilandau was to sit in and setting up his activity table. The day before, Dilandau and Shesta had brought in a satchel full of fiction, blank notebooks, and a few pencils.

"I was showing your brother something and he grabbed my hand. He just squeezed a little, but look what happened," Dilandau was murmuring as Folken stared at the loosened port and the blood that flowed freely from it as if Dilandau's hand had been cut open.

Shaking his head, Folken opened a drawer, pulling out a long roll of clean gauze. He wrapped it around Dilandau's hand, letting the blood soak through the layers and not stopping until he was satisfied the flow was slowing. "Keep your hand elevated Dilandau." He added some adhesive to the messy bandage to keep it in place.

Dilandau sighed and nodded. He studied his mummified hand for a moment, before raising tired eyes to Folken. "I still can't believe I'm letting you do this, Folken."

Folken held Dilandau's eyes, noting the shadows of exhaustion beneath them. "I'm glad you are, but lets hope we won't have to do it again."

Folken scooted back in his chair and stood, taking Dilandau by the shoulders, turning him, and steering him toward the arm chair he and Marie had borrowed from Princess Millerna's sitting room. He sat Dilandau down and knelt before him, so that they were eye to eye. "You'll feel better, when it's over."

"You keep saying that," Dilandau said with a slight smirk and Folken patted his knee. He repressed the fresh wave of fear that wanted to wash over him now that Dilandau was sitting in front of him, smiling at him with perfect trust. Dilandau was aware of the risk Folken and Marie were taking, his magenta eyes scanned the array of capped syringes full of antiserums being kept at hand just in case something went wrong. The one person in the room that really should have been afraid was completely calm. Dilandau's heavy lashes dipped onto his pale cheeks and he sighed.

"How long is this going to take again?"

"We're giving you 2 units, so about 3 to 4 hours." Folken shifted a bit and Marie brushed by him, holding a bag of dark, unoxygenated blood and proceeding to drape it from the silver IV pole beside the chair. "Are you cold?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Well, I've got a nice warm quilt to toss over you, after I'm through," Marie entered the conversation, sounding pleasantly distracted. She made a face at Dilandau's bandaged hand. "Bad boy! Now I'll have to start sticking you in the other one!"

Dilandau made a soft noise of mock outrage. "Blame Folken's brother! He did it."

Marie chuckled. "And what did you do to deserve it, hm?" She took Dilandau's wrapped hand, studying it and glancing at Folken sideways. "Nice bandaging technique. Where'd you learn?– Astoria?"

Folken rolled his eyes at her. "I stopped the bleeding."

Marie and Dilandau shared a look. "He could have made it look better," Marie whispered to Dilandau, and Dilandau nodded conspiratorially.

Folken looked heavenward, rising to his feet. "I'll get his temperature; you go ahead and hook him up to the monitors."

"One day I want to see him get pissed and start cursing at us," Dilandau said to Marie who laughed.

"You'd have better luck getting Allen Schezar to proclaim his love for you."

They laughed as Folken sighed. He collected the thermometer from the small supply tray behind Marie. "Open your mouth, Dilandau."

He slid the slim, glass cylinder under Dilandau's tongue and rested a cool palm on his forehead. "Are you wet?"

"Hm?" Dilandau's look was bit too innocent, and Folken wisely decided he didn't want to know.

"Alright kid, look here," Marie got Dilandau's attention. She tapped the tiny monitor she'd slipped over his left index finger. "This is giving us your pulse rate and blood pressure. I know you're familiar with the device, but I have to make it clear to you that though we will be receiving your vitals through a machine, it is still very important for you to tell us if you begin to feel strange or uncomfortable."

Dilandau nodded. Marie removed the thermometer and glanced at it. "Hm. You're a little above normal, but that's probably as good as it's going to get with you." She set the thermometer aside. "Flex your arm, the same one with the monitor in it."

Folken watched Marie tap the tender flesh on the inside of Dilandau's elbow, trying to find a good vein. Dilandau turned his head away, choosing instead to look at Folken. "Are you gonna stay and keep me company, Folken?"

"I thought I was as interesting as drying paint, Dilandau," Folken remarked. Dilandau's eyes widened and Marie giggled.

"I said that one, Folken dear," she chimed. Marie swabbed her chosen entry point with antiseptic before inserting the needle and line. Dilandau tensed a bit, biting his lip then relaxing.

Marie petted his head. "Ok, hard part's done and over with." She shook out a colorful quilt she'd brought from her own room and spread it over Dilandau's lap. "Alright, I'm going to be in my little office. I'll be back out in an hour in a half to switch the units. Watch the feed, Folken. If it starts going too fast, call me. Don't try to fix it yourself."

Folken nodded, ignoring the odd little smirk Dilandau wore. He was certain the boy would tell him the reason behind it as soon as Marie left, and he was sure that reason would be annoying.

"Relax and try to get a little sleep. You look like you could use some." Marie straightened the quilt and moved to exit a side door that led to a smaller lab where Marie kept the medicals books she'd gotten from Lord Dryden.

The door closed and Folken scowled at Dilandau who was still smirking. "All right, Dilandau, what is it?"

"Dr. Marie's got you on a tight leash. Do you get a rash around your neck when she jerks your chain?"

Folken narrowed his eyes. "What are you insinuating, Dilandau?"

"That Marie wears the trousers around this place." Dilandau leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the bag of blood over his head. "Did you guys get all of that from one person?"

"No," Folken said, then after thinking over Dilandau's previous statement said, "and you try disobeying Marie. Even Pearce tiptoes around her."

Dilandau snickered and stifled a yawn. Folken sat in a chair he had set up across from Dilandau. It made him feel better having Dilandau close to him. Folken didn't know quite what he thought he was protecting Dilandau from, but he felt as if he was fulfilling a familial duty. Dilandau's lids drooped and his lashes fluttered over his cheeks. "You know, your brother doesn't make a bad teacher."

"Oh?" Folken said, half-interested. Dilandau often brought up the topic of Van and how the two were getting along in his presence. At first, Folken simply thought Dilandau was simply reminding him that he was keeping his promise not to hurt Van, but after a while Folken became convinced that Dilandau was plotting something.

He wondered if Van got the same vibes, but every time he caught glimpses of Van near Dilandau, he seemed... elated. His brother really enjoyed Dilandau's company. Maybe the two really did discover they had something in common and had become friends. Dilandau certainly spoke highly of Van, and it was irksome that Folken didn't know how Van spoke of Dilandau. In the strategy meetings where the officials all got together and discussed war tactics, equipment, and foreign affairs, Van doted on every word Dilandau spoke, always the first to agree on whatever stance Dilandau took in a debate.

It was strange, but if Folken didn't know better, he'd almost want to say his brother had a crush on Dilandau. Sometimes, Folken caught the boy staring, but he shrugged it off. Dilandau was a rare vision, and people often did stare at him. Allen Schezar did, but Folken was very sure the knight didn't have a crush on Dilandau.

"Yeah. He's really shaping up. He's not so clumsy." Dilandau's voice was drowsy.

"Are the Slayers starting to get along with him better?" Folken remembered that there had been some tension between some of the Slayers and Van.

Dilandau chucked, and Folken glanced at him to see that his eyes were still closed. "There's still a little tension, but I've figured out why."

"What's so funny about it?" Folken looked over at the small table of activities for Dilandau and wished Marie had put activities for him there as well.

One magenta eyes opened and peered at Folken wickedly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Folken frowned at the young man's teasing tone. "What?"

"Say please and I might tell you."

Folken rolled his eyes and actually picked up one of Dilandau's well worn books. The Last Herald Mage? Who would have known Dilandau was into fiction, much less fantasy stories? Thumbing through the marked up pages, Folken sighed. "Please?"

Both of Dilandau's eyes opened then and he leaned forward on his knees with an impish grin. Folken gazed at him curiously, closing the book.

"Your little brother's got a crush."

Folken nearly choked. Oh gods, he'd been right! Van had a crush on...

"He likes Miguel."

Miguel?

"They're always staring at each other and there's like this silent communication that goes on between them at times."

Folken blinked. Hm... Van and Miguel? He never would have suspected that one, but Dilandau was closer to Van than Folken was– much closer– and could see what Folken was not allowed to. Now that he did think about it though, he'd caught the two gazing at one another on more than one occasion, and they did exchange words in close proximity.

Van and Miguel?

Folken tried to sort out how he felt about it. His little brother liked men, and all that time on the Vione he and the Emperor had thought Van was in love with the girl from the Mystic Moon. How wrong they'd been about him...unless, Van wasn't completely gay. Maybe Miguel was the only man Van liked.

It would certainly explain the metamorphosis Van had gone through, marking the day of the Slayers' arrival. The boy had suddenly started dressing and acting like a prince. Miguel was a very proper boy of noble blood and he did appreciate things like fine clothing and good etiquette. Van was going about pursuing him in the right way, and now that Dilandau knew...

"Oh Dilandau, are you trying to help him out?" It could spell disaster. Dilandau could all but force Miguel to go out with his brother for his very own amusement. What did Dilandau really care about Van anyway?

Dilandau winked. "Maybe a little."

Folken bristled.

"Don't worry; I'm not pushing anything. I'm just buying him ample opportunities to make his move. The guys go out every night just before dark, and I got him invited."

Van was going to be alone with all six of Dilandau's men outside of the castle at night?

"Hey! I know what you're thinking. I told him who to stay away from, and I've filled Shesta in on everything. He's going to look after Van."

Folken relaxed a little. Shesta was a good boy, and the others listened to him. Good. Van was safe as long as he didn't veer away from the blond, but he still worried. He didn't know the other Slayers' feelings about same sex relationships; he didn't know Miguel's feelings on the topic. Folken had seen some brutal beatings in Zaibach and even once when he was younger in Astoria on the account of innocent same sex crushes. He didn't want Van to be a victim.

Folken was ok with it; Dilandau was amused by it; Shesta obviously must have had no problem, but gods, Dilandau... Do you always have to be so impulsive?

"Hey Folken?"

"Hm?"

"You don't have to worry about your little brother tonight; he'll be fine," Dilandau said gently, letting his eyes close again and reclining in the chair. Sighing softly, he rolled over sightly, partially obscuring his face from Folken's view and pulling his knees to his chest.

Folken blinked. Van was strong, and he'd proven more than once that he could take care of himself, but still Dilandau was wrong. He stood again, going to Dilandau and adjusting the quilt around the boy's slim, weary frame.

Brushing damp silver hair off his forehead, Folken thought, I do have to worry about my little brother tonight. Sleep well, Dilandau. I'm not going anywhere.

---

Shesta giggled to himself as he brushed his hair in the mirror. Saffron locks tumbled into his field of vision and he blew them aside. He would have grabbed a pair of shears and trimmed his hair, but he kept recalling how the young ladies in the Princess' court responded to his shaggy new look. Even Viole had gained some favor with his silly ponytail. However, the one the ladies really admired was Miguel. Shesta giggled again, parting his hair down the middle and brushing his locks to the side. He wanted to be able to see tonight.

"What are you sniggering about, Shes? You're getting on my nerves," Gatty snapped. He was sitting spread eagle in front of Shesta's bed, polishing his boots on a dingy white towel he'd spread over the rose carpet.

Why Gatty couldn't shine his shoes in his own room, Shesta did not know, but he would kill Gatty if he stained the rug. "Perhaps you should go back to your own room, then you wouldn't have to listen to me."

Gatty snorted. "Eh... It's too quiet in there. I'm not used to having my own room. Never had one before."

Shesta had never had one before either, and he for one would like to know what it felt like to have complete privacy. He set the brush on the small vanity and trekked across the room to his closet. He'd chosen to wear a short-sleeved, blue tunic and black slacks, but he felt the ensemble was missing something.

Shesta's sky blue eyes skimmed the contents of his sparsely populated closet. A closet for a noble filled with a soldier's meager belongings. It was a waste of good closet space, but Shesta wasn't complaining. Maybe one day he'd fill this closet. Miguel certainly was doing an excellent job of filling his...

Shesta chuckled again, his eyes lighting upon his black belt with the velvet dagger pouch. Of course, a weapon. That was what he was missing. Though he was off duty, a soldier was never supposed to leave home without some means of protection for himself and others.

"You're doing it again! What the hell is so funny? You had better not be laughing about me!"

"And what if I am?" Shesta asked, not really caring to hear the answer. He pulled the belt down and strapped it around his waist. There. Now to find a suitable dagger to match...

"Shesta!" Gatty shouted, sounding exasperated, and Shesta whirled to see him still sitting in the same position but no longer holding his boots. He had greasy hands on his hips... good thing he was wearing leather pants... and glaring at Shesta.

Shesta looked at his own boots, contemplating what he should do. On one hand, he was itching to tell someone; on the other hand, he'd told Lord Dilandau he wouldn't say a word to embarrass Van or Miguel.

He snickered again, just thinking about what Lord Dilandau had revealed to him in confidence. And the pure fact that Lord Dilandau was trying to set them up... He doubled over laughing at the memory.

Miguel Lavariel and King Van Slanzar de Fanel!

"Shesta!" Gatty was roaring.

"I can't, Gatty! I promised!" Shesta wailed through hopeless pearls of laughter. He fell to his knees, chuckling and trying to breathe. Oh gods... Miguel's behavior as of late, Miguel staring at Van, Miguel not wanting Van to join them and pulling Viole aside all the time...

Eh gads, Miguel was in love!

And Van!– the last time Shesta had seen the boy he'd been dressed in rags. Now he looked the portrait of courtly fashion. He never wore the same outfit twice, and whenever he saw Miguel, he hurried to be on the other side of the room from him. Butterflies!

The King was in love!

And Lord Dilandau– brilliant strategist, fierce warrior, and awesome leader– was playing match maker!

Shesta was knocked over by something heavy and forced his eyes open to find Gatty on top of him, pinning him to the floor. "What...is...so...funny?" Gatty hissed, his face inches from Shesta's.

Gatty's face blurred in and out of focus as Shesta tried to blink tears from his eyes. "Get....get...off!"

"Shesta!" Gatty wailed, shaking him. "What is it? I'll strangle you, if you don't tell me what you're laughing about!"

"I'm more... afraid... of Lord Dilandau... than you!" Shesta whooped, trying to shove Gatty off.

"What does Lord Dilandau have to do with this? Hey... he told you a secret, didn't he? You know I'm first in command. Lord Dilandau's secrets are my secrets, and I order you to tell me!"

Shesta stared at Gatty's serious expression, blinking once, then twice, and lost it. He started cackling again, bucking Gatty off and rolling onto his side. Oh, his stomach hurt.

"Shesta, come on! I won't tell anyone else, I promise! Lord Dilandau trusts me too! Come on!"

Shesta was shaking his head 'no.'

"Oh... I'll... I'll take that bumbling idiot Cortez off your hands and trade him for Lanier."

Hm. Shesta sobered a bit at hearing that offer. His training sessions with the young recruits were going exceptionally well, except for this one boy, Cortez, who just wasn't getting it. He could barely wield an eating utensil much less a staff or sword.

"Ok."

Shesta reasoned with himself: 1). Lord Dilandau would have told Gatty, but Shesta just happened to be the first person he found. 2). Gatty would have found out eventually anyway. 3). Shesta... had to tell somebody!

Gatty waited for Shesta to sit up on his knees and catch his breath. "King Van Fanel has a thing for our very own Miguel Lavariel, and Lord Dilandau and I think Miguel likes the King back!"

Gatty's eyes bugged out of his head and he choked incredulously for a moment, before speaking. "What?"

"Lord Dilandau found out from Van himself!"

Gatty's mouth hung agape in shock. He rubbed his chin, deep in thought before his face stretched into a giant grin. "That would definitely explain Miguel and Viole's weird behavior, well weirder than usual, and the King's change of dress, and his interest in the team..."

The blonds stared at each other before breaking into simultaneous laughter.

"And Van's coming out with us tonight. Lord Dilandau invited him to hang out with me, so I can help get him close to Miguel!"

They roared.

"And you weren't going to tell me?" Gatty demanded, wiping his eyes.

"I said I would keep my mouth closed, but... but..." Shesta giggled. "Don't... don't tell anyone Gatty. Lord Dilandau might get angry."

"Lord Dilandau's probably laughing his ass off about this. I wish he was here so I could see his face. Maybe we should go visit him..."

"Then he'll know I told!"

"We'll say I figured it out!" Gatty said. "I mean, now that you think about it, it's very obvious something's going on between those two. Why not love?"

They contained themselves a few seconds, before falling over one another laughing again.

"Oh my stomach, my sides, my mouth..." Shesta was moaning. "How am I going to act around Van and Miguel?"

"I don't know, but we leave in a bit. Don't you have to go get Van?" Gatty sniffled, slicking hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah..." Shesta bit his lips on the chuckle that wanted to escape. "I'd better go get him now in fact." Control yourself, Shesta...

"I'll...meet you guys out front." He rose from the floor slowly, wiping his face and schooling his expression. He cleared his throat and looked at Gatty meaningfully. "Don't say anything to anyone else, Gatty. I'm serious."

He left his room, closing the door and having to use the wall for support when he started laughing again.

This was going to be an interesting evening indeed.

---

"What?" Miguel exclaimed. He stared at Gatty, waiting for the punch line for the blond looked very amused with himself. "You cannot be serious! We have to see that moron all day! Why in the world would we want him tagging along with us at night, when we're free?"

Gatty shrugged, keeping his mouth pressed into a straight line. He blinked and turned away from Miguel, blue eyes sparkling at Guimel and Dallet who looked as confused as Viole

"Who invited him?" Miguel wanted to know. He looked at Viole, who shook his head. They stood near the stone benches of the courtyard dressed casually and ready for their routine night on the river walk. Astoria was a beautiful place to be after hours, and even Miguel was impressed with the wealth of the culture and community. There was a restaurant on the east bridge he wanted to try out, and he'd convinced the others to give it a chance. If he had known someone was going to invite the King, Miguel wouldn't have pressed so hard for them to eat there that night. Van's vile presence would spoil his appetite.

The King's endless pursuit of Lord Dilandau was shameless, and Miguel wondered why Lord Dilandau hadn't picked up on some of Van's advances. Offering challenges, asking for advice on which sword hand to use for different moves... Van was always trying to find reasons for Lord Dilandau to tutor him privately.

"Shesta and I thought it would be nice," Gatty said in an oddly choked voice. He kept his back to Miguel, but from the looks on Guimel and Dallet's faces Miguel could tell Gatty's expression must have been strange.

"Is something going on, Gatty?" Dallet asked. He had one leg bent at the knee and propped on a stone mermaid shaped bench. Guimel lounged beside him like a long-legged spider with his chin on his knees. He stared up at Gatty in amusement through brown tipped lashes.

"Tell us willingly, Gatty, or we'll beat it out of you later."

Gatty shook his head vigorously, his shoulders quaking a bit, and Miguel frowned.

"Why did you and Shesta believe it would be nice to invite that annoying runt of a field rat along?" Miguel grabbed Gatty by the shoulders, spinning him around. He wanted to see his face! What in Gaea was wrong with him?

The blue eyes that met Miguel's were wide, watery and dancing with mirth. Gatty shook Miguel's hands off his shoulders, fighting to keep his trembling lips from...smiling? "We just did ok! Lord Dilandau suggested it. Now leave me alone, Miguel!"

"Gatty, what is the matter with you?" Viole asked. "You're acting like– well, me."

Gatty squirmed– he squirmed! "Nothing's the matter with me. What's the matter with you, asking me all these questions. How about we talk about something else, huh? What's the name of this place you're taking us to dinner, Miguel? If you suggested it, it must be someplace nice. Romantic maybe?"

Miguel glared at Gatty. By the gods, he was doing a very good impression of Viole! "Romantic?" Guimel snorted. "I'm not going to any place where they sell pink beer, Miguel. I want to go to the tavern with Molly big breast!"

"We went to that dump last week!" Miguel's nostril's flared. "Tonight we go to a place with class, where the natives don't discard clam shells on the floor!"

"There were some peanut shells down there too, Miguel."

"Shut up, Viole!" Miguel snapped. He placed his hands on his hips and glared at his team who peered at him humorously. Why was he always the joke? He simply wanted to expose them to finer things, mold them into gentlemen...

"Miguel, if you keep making that face, it's going to freeze that way," Viole quipped with that annoying, impish grin of his. He plopped down on the other side of Guimel to study the sculpted stone mermaid's full breast. "Someone broke the nipple."

"I noticed that," Guimel said. "Wonder how they managed it."

Miguel sighed, pulling at his perfected groomed brown hair. There was no hope for any of them, he guessed, and why did no one but him care that they had an intruder? This was their evening getaway, and it was rude for outsiders to include themselves! To add insult to injury, the invitee was none other than Van Fanel. The only good thing about him coming along was that he wouldn't be unsupervised in the castle with Lord Dilandau.

And if Miguel could get him alone without having to worry about the prying eyes of his comrades, he could give the King what for and maybe scare him away from Lord Dilandau for good.

Hm.

"Hey everybody, look who I've brought!" Shesta stepped through the tall hedges with Van Fanel in tow, a cheesy smile plastered on his face. His eyes glittered in the same way Gatty's had earlier when they landed on Miguel. Quickly, Shesta averted his eyes, choosing to speak to Gatty. "King Van is going to join us this evening. Lets make him feel welcome, ok?"

"Great to have you, Your Majesty," Gatty said, his voice an octave higher than usual. He and Shesta shared a look and immediately turned away from each other, Shesta facing Miguel and biting his lips, hard, and Gatty looking at the grass.

"They're seriously starting to scare me," Miguel heard Guimel utter to Dallet.

"Think they drank the happy water those soldiers were passing out in the boiler room?" Dallet asked.

"If they start prancing like ponies and clucking like chickens, we'll have an answer to that," Guimel said.

Miguel shook his head. He decided to ignore his comrades. He pushed past Shesta and stared at Van. "So you want to spend the night with us?"

Van met Miguel's intense stare right on, his brown eyes searing. "I guess I do. I was invited by your leader."

"Nice of you to flaunt that fact. I guess that means we'll have to take care of you," Miguel said cooly. Narrowing his eyes, he hissed for Van's ears alone, "I'll show you a great time, Your Majesty."

There was a muffled sound from Shesta and Miguel whirled to stare at him. The blond pretended to cough. "Well, what do you say we get going? Miguel has a great place he wants to take us to tonight. Lead the way, Miguel."

Miguel blinked, getting the feeling that he was going to be strangling Shesta and Gatty before the night was over. Lifting his chin and striding forward, Miguel called over his shoulder, "Come on then. I don't know what kind of a wait they're going to have, and I refuse to sit by the kitchens."

Viole jogged to catch up to him and stopped at his side. "Why would Van want to come out with us, if Lord Dilandau's not going to be here?"

"I don't know," Miguel mumbled. "Maybe he thinks if he can get in with us, he's in with Lord Dilandau. Shesta and Gatty appear to like him a lot; they could invite him on more of our outings."

Viole whistled. "Well, I guess it's our job to make sure this evening is a disaster then... for Van." Viole held out a fist as if he held a fine drinking glass.

"For Van," Miguel toasted Viole's false crystal with one of his own.

---

"Did you see the way Miguel walked right up to him?" Shesta was whispering as he tugged Gatty's sleeve.

"I saw the 'look' and the whisper," Gatty giggled softly, then waved at Guimel and Dallet who were staring at Shesta and him. Van walked in front of them in his fine courtly garb of silk and leather just behind Miguel and Viole who led the pack through the stone streets of the vivacious market place.

"Trinkets from around the world!" a vendor in a large hat cried, arms spread wide, gesturing at the splendor of his wooden booth adorned with strange foreign ornaments.

"Daggers! Knives! Blades of all sizes and makes!" A fat man bedecked in golden robes bellowed, twirling a pair of sai expertly in his hands, the fine silver facets catching the light of the flames from the fire eater's circle.

"Maybe we should leave them alone for dinner?" Gatty suggested. "It would be easy for us to 'accidentally' be separated." Looking behind him, Gatty saw that they'd already lost Guimel and Dallet to a platform of scantily dressed, barefoot belly dancers.

"Miguel would be so pissed," Shesta said, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the rhythmic drumming of an all percussion band playing nearby. "He all but begged us to go to this place."

Gatty ducked as a juggler lost one of his balls and it whizzed over his head. "He'll get over it, especially if he can spend quality time with Van."

They chuckled and pushed their way through a small gathering of people watching a puppet show.

"Jewelry! Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, pearls...!"

"Hot sausage! Roasted salmon on a stick!"

They lost sight of Miguel, Van, and Viole, but it was just as well. Group dates were no fun.

Gatty grabbed Shesta's elbow. "Lets find a confectionary stand."

"Great idea. We can buy Miguel and Van a souvenir of their first date!"

Together they howled and vanished within the crowd.

---

Viole stopped at more than one booth, cart, and shop along the way, but Miguel always grabbed him dutifully by the collar and dragged him away, forcing him back into step. Miguel was a man possessed when it came to getting what he wanted, and Viole didn't have the heart to tell him that their group had dispersed. The only person that still followed was King Van, though he was quickly falling behind too, entranced by all of the sparkly displays and spicy-sweet aromas...

He yelped as he was caught by the scruff of his neck again.

"There it is, Viole," Miguel pointed to a nice little restaurant made of stone with loopy white writing in its windows. "Now, I expect you all..." Miguel had halted and turned to address the perfect strangers and Van who stood behind them.

"Where..." Miguel stuttered and Viole tittered lightly. "Those...those... liars! They said they were going to come! One nice evening was all I asked!"

"Relax, Miguel. We can still have a nice evening," Viole recovered and laid a hand on Miguel's stooped shoulder to comfort him. Miguel could be so sensitive about these sort of things. "I'll use every rule of etiquette my mother and 7 wacky sister ever taught me, and look..."

Viole pointed at Van. "We've still got one guest."

The King's attention was elsewhere. A troop of players was announcing a show they were to put on in a few minutes and requesting volunteers from the audience to play key roles in the production.

Viole's heart leapt and a large grin nearly split his face in two. "Make that: you've got one guest, Miguel! Tell me how dinner went!"

Before Miguel could snatch him back, Viole was bouncing into the crowd, waving his arms and shouting loudly to be picked.

A grinning elf dressed in holiday green slipped a garland of leaves onto his head, crowning him Erlking, and Viole was lost in the fantasy of show business.

---

Lady Chastity's was a fancy restaurant with round cherry wood tables draped in fine linen and topped with lit candelabra. The dishes were real china and the utensils were pure silver. Menus printed on preserved scrolls in elegant cursive were distributed by hosts who guided people to their tables and assured them that a fine waiter or waitress would be out shortly to serve them.

Van sat across from a very sullen Miguel, spreading a thick crimson napkin over his lap. They'd started off as a group of seven, but they'd arrived at the restaurant as a couple of two. Van hadn't noticed the others bowing out until they were gone, and he felt sure Spirit– er– Viole had been with them just a moment earlier.

When he'd asked Miguel where their group had gone, he'd received a snarl and decided to keep quiet. He was surprised Miguel even still wanted to enter the establishment with Van as his only company. Miguel had ushered Van in front of him and requested a table for two away from the kitchen and not in the pipe section. The female hostess had winked at them in a way that made Van cringe and Miguel utter something crude under his breath about her.

A tall waiter with a curling moustache approached the table to take their drink orders.

"White wine," Miguel said, before Van could open his mouth. "Bring the bottle."

The waiter lifted a brow at the brunette boy, but relented as Miguel stared him down with his glacial blue eyes. He bowed and left the table.

"I'm not much of a drinker," Van said, testing a line of communication to see what would happen.

Miguel gave him a dull look. "The wine isn't for you."

Oh. Well, he could have said something. Van nodded and picked up a menu, holding like a shield in front of his face and going over the entrees. By the time the waiter returned with Miguel's wine and basket of fresh buttered bread, Van had his dinner decision.

"Are we ready to order, sirs?"

"Bring me the special," Miguel said, reaching for one of the crystal goblets circling the candelabra. He filled the wine glass to the brim and took a sip, turning to gaze out of the bay window onto the sparkling, midnight waters below.

"I'll have the beef stew."

"Excellent choice... Your Majesty," the waiter smiled politely and took the menu from his hands and Miguel's off the table. He left briskly, stopping at another table when beckoned.

"You'll do well not to order beef stew, if you ever end up somewhere with Lord Dilandau," Miguel muttered, not setting down his wine glass or looking at Van.

"Huh?" Van jerked in surprise, staring at Miguel. Avenger was talking to him? "Why...why not?"

"He doesn't like meat of any kind, and beef has the most pungent smell."

Van frowned and Miguel finished his wine and poured himself another glass.

"Why are you telling me this?" Van asked. "And why are we here? I expected you to toss me aside, once you realized your friends were gone."

Miguel hummed, sipping his wine and sizing up Van. "I wanted to eat here, and it's improper to dine alone, so either I bring you or I end up hunting down Viole and gobbling greasy sausages again."

"But you hate me," Van reminded Miguel. "You think I'm a pervert."

Miguel nodded, saluting Van with his empty wine glass. "I'm glad there's no misunderstanding between us."

Van shook his head, reaching for the bread basket and cutting himself a thick slice of white bread. Never in his worst nightmare had he ever dreamt of having a romantic candle lit dinner with Avenger, but maybe the gods had planned this occasion for a reason. Van could try to clear the air between them. Miguel falsely thought Van's intentions were less than virtuous with his leader, and Van was going to set him straight.

"Look Miguel, I don't know what impression I gave you in that prison cell, or what aura I'm emitting now, but I'm not a pervert." Van set his bread on the tiny plate in front of him while holding Miguel's gaze.

"I... have never experienced emotions like the ones I feel for...Lord Dilandau. I don't know what I'm doing, or what's going on, but I only want to be close to him. I don't plan on throwing him down or something and having my wicked way with him, if that's what you're supposing. I don't even know what a 'wicked way' is. I'm just... We're the same age, I assume. You know how you get curious. Don't you experiment?"

"Not with other boys," Miguel said, tossing back another glass of wine and smirking at Van darkly.

Van analyzed his tone and felt something queer come over him. Miguel wasn't trying to keep him away from Dilandau because he was afraid Van would steal his beloved leader's innocence. Miguel was against same sex relationships.

Van had expected prejudice and that was why he'd told no one of his yearnings, but actually running into one so bluntly was a slap in the face. Why did he never suspect that what Miguel held over him might not be personal?

"It's just wrong," Miguel breathed, leaning forward a bit and cutting a piece of bread for himself. "I mean, I won't condemn people for their practices, and I know a lot of my comrades don't care. I know some of them may have...experimented... as you so put it, but Lord Dilandau's not like that. He's pure, not innocent, but untainted. He doesn't think about relationships in the way we do. He doesn't go on about attractions and romance; well, he never did."

Van took a bite of bread, not speaking in hopes that Miguel would continue.

"But he's changing." Miguel poured more wine. "One day, he is going to talk about special people that make him feel things, and I'd like for him... to have a fair chance at looking at both sides of the spectrum without any influence from you."

Van blinked. Miguel was staring into his wine glass, swirling the amber liquid around. "And do you really perceive me as that much of a threat?"

Miguel looked up at him sharply. "I don't know. I thought you would have gone away by now, but you're still here. So you tell me, are you?"

Van finished off the bread and Miguel finished off the bottle of wine, requesting another. A violinist came by, playing a soft tune for them that went unappreciated by both parties.

Check please.

---

"What's sad about this is Viole's actually really good, and I'm enjoying myself," Guimel was shaking his head. He and Dallet shared a wooden crate, watching the romantic comedy being put on by... "Who are these guys again?"

"The Surfside Players..." Dallet said. He had a large bag of honey roasted nuts in his lap that Guimel dipped into every few moments. "...and while I'd prefer a satire, I guess this is pretty good. Viole's the best guy they got, though. We're going to have to beat the Players off him with a stick. They'll want to keep him."

Guimel made a face and fished out a almond. "Is he worth the effort?"

Dallet shrugged. "Lord Dilandau would miss him."

Guimel chuckled. "We can always say Miguel finally did away with him."

"Eh, those two have been almost chummy lately. Lord Dilandau will never buy it. Lets just face it. We're going to have to rescue Viole."

"Shh!" a plump woman in a long green dress hissed at them. "Reinaldo is talking!"

Prince Reinaldo, the main antagonist and Viole's cousin, was trying to steal Viole's maiden by telling her horrible things about him that were absolutely true. Enter Viole, the brilliant but blunt Erlking, Alujin, brandishing his shiny fake sword. One slice and Reinaldo's baggy clown pants were around his ankles and the crowd was in stitches.

"He should try that move in practice," Dallet crunched on a pecan.

"Yeah, but how often do you fight someone wearing clown pants?" Guimel wondered, taking the bag of nuts and shaking it up to bring the almonds to the top. "Aw Dally, we ate all the almonds."

"Next time, you should just get a sack of them, Guimel. I'm tired of you picking through the bag," Dallet groaned, snatching back the sack and grabbing a handful of random nuts.

Guimel sneered then flinched when the man sitting next to him coughed in his direction. "Switch me seats, before I hit this guy. He's got the plague or something!"

"Stop mimicking Miguel," Dallet said through a mouth full of food.

Guimel play punched him, the motion causing Dallet's nuts to tip over a bit. His partner caught the bag before it could fall. "You wouldn't have caught me that fast if I was falling."

"No," Dallet cheerfully agreed, "I wouldn't have."

Guimel snickered and a thought hit him. Speaking of Miguel... "Hey, you think Miguel still went to that Chastity place? I feel really bad about ducking out on him and all, but I didn't feel like rubbing elbows with anymore snobs tonight. We get enough of it in the palace."

"He's probably there now, calling us neanderthals," Dallet said. The crowd ooh'ed and Dallet and Guimel rose to a standing position for a better view of Viole kissing the beautiful Princess Helena, who was not the girlfriend he had started off with that the devious Reinaldo was trying to woo.

"Wow, looks like Viole wasn't lying when he said he was a good kisser. Damn. Helena wasn't expecting that! Look at her hands... all over him!" Dallet crowed as Guimel whistled.

"Hey, if Viole's here, that means he didn't go to dinner with Miguel either," Guimel realized.

"Poor guy."

"Oh come off it. You know Gatty and Shesta went," Guimel said. He and Dallet sat back down as Viole and Helena separated, Helena fanning herself and blushing in a very unprofessional way. Viole went down on one knee and proclaimed his love for her.

Women sighed; men groaned, and Guimel and Dallet laughed.

"I think we should try to find that Chastity's place. Miguel can't stay too mad at us if we buy him dessert," Dallet said, chewing as he'd just chomped on a handful of sawdust.

Guilt could do that to a body.

Guimel sighed. Miguel had been really excited about tonight, and even though Guimel knew the evening would have been an awful bore, Miguel was his friend. And– he was really touchy when people didn't want to do things with him.

"Oh... stupid conscience," Guimel grumbled. He watched Viole turn a series of back handsprings ending in a somersault to the delight of the crowd. "I always knew he was part monkey. "

The man sitting beside Guimel started hacking again, and that was Guimel's signal to get up. "Come on, Dallet. We'll have to ask Viole to reenact his performance later. We got a date with nobility... and Miguel."

---

"You have really had enough."

Miguel tittered as Van tried to take his wine glass from him. Silly King, the glass was empty! Oh no, no wait... there was still a little more... He was able to drain the last drop from the crystal before Van extracted it from him.

"If you wanted a glass, Van, you could have just asked. That was very un-royal of you... but then again, you only just now learned how to be a royal..." Miguel shook his finger in Van's face then hiccuped. Ooh... that wasn't polite.

Excuse me!

"It's time to go," Van was saying, wadding up his napkin and setting it in his empty stew bowl. Stew! He was in a freakin' million star restaurant and he ordered stew! Miguel began to laugh.

"See you later, King-ling! Glad you came out with me! Drinking alone is bad... I think, at least that's what I hear!" Miguel scratched his head. Drinking alone supposedly meant one had problems. Miguel had problems... but he hadn't drunk alone, so maybe they weren't his problems.

No, not his problems. They were Viole's, and Shesta's, and Gatty's, and Guimel's and Dallet's! How dare they stand him up! Lord Dilandau would have come. He was Miguel's friend, unlike the others.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself, Miguel. You're drunk." Miguel squinted at both Kings that got up from a single chair–had one sat in the other's lap?– and came toward him. He frowned, shrinking away from the twin monarchs' hands and tumbling from his seat.

The floor was hard and cold under his butt and he stared up at the long table cloth and at the Vans. Someone else came by too and ogled him.

Nosy waiter.

"Will you be needing assistance, Your Highness?"

"No, thank you. I think I can handle this guy on my own." Miguel heard Van assure Mr. Nosy.

Miguel groaned, tired of having to tilt his head back to see everyone. Lets stand, shall we? He struggled to stand, gripping his chair and then the table top. Goodness, he was tall. He wobbled on his feet, but grinned at being able to meet everyone at eye level once again.

"Good evening!" he greeted everyone who pretended not to stare in his direction. "Lets go, Miguel," Van hissed at him and Miguel jumped, bumping the table and turning over the empty bottle of wine still on the table. Miguel frowned, lifting the bottle and shaking it.

After 3 bottles, he was still thirsty. "Can I get a refill on this?"

"No," Van growled, and Miguel yelped as hard fingers dug into his shoulders and he was propelled through the dining room to the glass door. He tried to walk one foot in front of the other, but his feet kept growing! Tripping was inevitable, and he was prepared to sample the fine wood of the floor. The food and wine had been so good, Miguel wondered if the floor would be tasty as well.

He never got to find out. Strong arms caught him around the waist and held him steady as the ceiling and floor swapped places. That's cheating! No fair doing that while I'm trying to walk!

"I've got you," Van's weary voice said from behind. "Gods know why..."

A cool sea breeze rushed up to tap Miguel on the nose and run its windy fingers through his hair, and he laughed, suddenly inspired. Van, a single Van, was closing the door to Chastity's, and Miguel sprang at him.

The shorter boy was quick to squeak and hold out both arms to catch Miguel and keep him from vaulting through the glass.

He caught me! "Van! You.. Love me more than my friends! They would have let me crash through that glass and laughed at me!"

"Easy Miguel, you're drunk." Van pushed him away, but kept a steadying hand on his arm. "You're saying a lot of thing you don't mean, and you'll regret tomorrow."

"How can I regret learning that you... are a great guy!" Miguel pulled away from Van, grinning at him unabashedly. "You came out to dinner with me though I'm an absolute beast to you! You listened to me talk about my no good friends and how they ditch me and make fun of me every chance they get!"

He whirled around, greeting the men and women that smiled in his direction. "Just wait til I find those guys. I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind! I went to crab shacks, boob houses, and grease barns with them! One night...one night I ask them to show some class..."

Miguel had never felt as light on his feet. He stumbled, skinning his knees through his pants on the cold cobblestone ground. Ow...

"I've got to get you back to the castle." Van again, grabbing him under the shoulders and pulling him to his feet.

He's so nice. Miguel leaned on him a bit. "You are so helpful. I bet if I.... I..." Miguel looked around. A large gathering of people were crowded around some loud event, and taking the spot light from him.

Typical, Miguel could never be the center of attention. He ran to the stone rail of the bridge and hoisted himself on it.

"Miguel, what are you... no!" Miguel stuck his tongue out at Van.

"Ok, Van! I got it! I bet if I fell off this bridge into the water down there, you'd jump in and save me, because... you..." Miguel pointed at Van as he ran toward him. "...are a decent person! And... you're not a pervert! And... I think I like you more than my friends right now, because you are paying attention to me! I'm important, huh?"

Miguel spread his arms out to his sides and began to walk the rail. One foot in front of the other... damn growth spurts.

"Miguel, what the hell are you doing?"

Guimel? Miguel stopped abruptly, bobbling a bit.

"Miguel, come down from there." Van. "He's drunk."

Guimel chuckled and Miguel glared down at the fluffy headed blond. "You never could hold your liquor, Miguel. Don't you ever learn?"

Miguel sneered. They were always laughing at him! Even Dallet wore a smirk! The only person who looked concerned was Van. Van the King of friends! Van the magnificent! Van... Ooh.

The sky and ground swapped places and he lost his footing.

"Miguel!" Strong hands latched onto his wrist and tugged him forward, hard. He toppled into Van's chest, and both boys fell to the ground, Miguel on top of Van laughing wildly.

"Oh man, this is bad," he heard Dallet whispering.

"Miguel," Guimel was calling and Miguel felt hands on his arms, trying to pull him off his friend. No, no, no...

"I'm not going anywhere with you... you jerk! You stood me up!" Miguel slapped Guimel's hands away.

"I'm sorry. We thought we could catch a show and meet you for dessert, Miguel. Come on, I'll treat."

"Uh-uh!" Van was trying to sit up and Miguel wrapped his arms around the boy's neck tightly. "This is my new friend Van! He'll treat me."

"Miguel..." Dallet was pleading.

"No, no, no," Miguel shook his head ignoring the choking noises coming frm Van beneath him. "You don't love me. You don't love me at all, but he does! You hear me, Van loves me! And I...." Miguel released Van, and the dark haired boy gasped and choked under him, trying to roll away, but Miguel kept him pinned.

He tossed a look over his shoulder at a frowning Dallet and a scowling Guimel. Liars... he gazed at the greasy bag in Dallet's hands. They'd gone somewhere else to eat instead of eating with him.

"I..." Miguel gazed back down at Van who stared up at him in perfect horror. "LOVE him too!" He planted a large, wet kiss on the boy-king's lips. "So..So there!"

"Oh my gods..."

Shesta? When had bowl head gotten here?

"Miguel, you just..." Gatty too?

He tried to sit up, but everything... everything was spinning so fast. Colors swam together, but Miguel was sure that it was Shesta stretching a hand out toward him. Don't touch me! He wanted to shout, but suddenly... his stomach lurched.

He didn't feel well.

---

The Erlking, Alujin, was giving his farewell monologue when the commotion broke out. Seemed some idiot kid was trying to take a header off the bridge. Shesta was glad, half the crowd leaving meant he and Gatty got better seats. Viole had an impressive stage presence that Shesta had known nothing about, but he probably should have. Viole was a clown and lived to entertain.

"The King of Fanelia is trying to talk the crazy boy down!"

Shesta dropped his baked apple on the parcel he'd purchased for Lord Dilandau and turned to gape at Gatty. Gatty's "Oh shit" expression was enough to launch Shesta to his feet.

The entire audience was rising, and Shesta and Gatty had to knock over a few people to get through. On the bridge on the railing stood a boy that bore a striking resemblance to...

"Miguel! What is that fool doing?" Gatty shouted. They finally broke through the crowd onto the scene. Guimel and Dallet stood by as Van yanked Miguel down from his precarious perch into his arms and both boys sprawled onto the ground. Guimel and Dallet slid down beside the toppled teens and tried to offer assistance, but Miguel shoved them away, accusing them of being rotten friends and then... acknowledging Vans feelings for him and proclaiming his love to the king.

Then he kissed him!

Miguel kissed Van on the lips!

"Oh my gods..." Shesta uttered. It was true. There had been doubt in his mind about Miguel's attraction to Fanelia, but he'd told the world, or rather most of Astoria, where his affections laid.

Shesta inched forward, joining Guimel and Dallet in their protective cluster around Van and Miguel. Gatty came forward too, hissing at Guimel and Dallet to disperse of the crowd.

Dallet nodded hastily, staring strangely at Miguel and standing. Guimel frowned and remained where he was.

"Miguel you..." Gatty had begun to say, but he was interrupted when Miguel threw up all over himself... and Van.

"...are drunk," Shesta finished for Gatty, wrinkling his nose and trying not to look at the mess Miguel had made.

"Ooh... this was new," Miguel was moaning, staring down at himself in disgust then at Van. "You look gross!"

"No thanks to you!" Van shouted, shoving Miguel off. He hastily stood, not knowing where to begin to try cleaning himself off.

Oh no... Shesta was shaking his head. Miguel had expressed his feelings for Van while he was drunk, and now Van couldn't possibly accept them for fear of taking advantage of the situation!

Oh Miguel, you're ruined your chance tonight. Shesta stood, surging forward to take Miguel under the arms and boost him to his feet. "You're a mess, Miguel. Lets get back to the castle, so we can clean you up."

"So sorry about this, Lord Van," Shesta could hear Gatty speaking behind them as he began to steer Miguel away.

"Shesssss?"

Shesta held Miguel at arm's length in an attempt to keep his clothes uncontaminated by the contents of Miguel's stomach and to keep the horrible smell at bay. "What, Miguel?"

Guimel had fallen into step beside them.

"Are you my friend?"

Shesta glared at Guimel to silence his snickers. "Of course I am, Miguel."

"Good. I need to borrow some money."

"For what?"

"To buy Van new clothes..." Miguel said as if it was the most obvious thing in the wold and Shesta was an idiot for having to ask. "He's my new best friend. He ate dinner with me, and...hic... he saved me!"

Guimel did nothing to disguise his chuckles then. "I can't wait til he sobers up... It's gonna be classic."

Classic indeed.

Poor Miguel. He'd made a fool out of himself in front of his crush, thrown up on him, and was now being carted home like a toddler with half the city trying to steal a glimpse of the "jumper."

Shesta patted Miguel on the back. "Sure, Miguel. I'll lend you some money."

Anything to make this right. I'll help you win, Van.

"Thanks Shessss...you're a pal."

"Hey, is anyone going to fetch the Erlking from the stage before those Players kidnap him?"

Damn. Shesta had forgotten all about Viole. Viole! A plan began to form in Shesta's mind. If there was anyone who had access to Miguel's personal business, it was Viole.

"Why don't you get him, Guimel," Shesta said, his tone of voice making it clear that he wasn't giving a suggestion.

Shesta watched Guimel's retreating back out of the corner of his eye. He'd press Viole for information as soon as they got back to the palace, and of course he'd have to let Gatty in on it.

"I wanna take a bath with lotsa bubbles..." Miguel was mumbling and Shesta squeezed his shoulders.

"Don't worry, Miguel. We'll take care of you."

---

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know :). The next part will be up very, very soon, so if you want me to respond to your review in the Response section hurry up and get it in ;). If not, leave me an e-mail address, and I'll e-mail you :).

Take care! Hope you liked it!

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