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

23. Chapter 22

Author's Note: Hey people! Yes, yes, I know I said this update would come out much sooner, but real life doesn't always agree with the writing schedule I'd like to keep, lol. A lady decided it would be fun to back into the driver's side door of my car at Walmart, so I've been haggling with insurance companies and getting cars repaired and driving rental vehicles (bah). Anyways, I've decided to go ahead and make this Chapter 22; it has earned the title for it is another monster chapter in its own right. Twenty-eight pages (that I wrote mostly at work, lol!) Don't try to read it in one sitting! Thanks for all of the great feedback!

Reviewer Responses:

Haruko: Hello, lol! I'm glad the story still feels fresh to you. My biggest fear is that people will grow bored of this story and stop reading it. Lol, I enjoyed giving the Dragonslayers life and personality. I really wished they could have had a bigger part in the anime. Lol, Dilandau says thanks for the offer and how fast can you get it to Astoria? Lol! Boys being boys is fun, and you'll see Valeska again ;). Thanks for reviewing!

Lady Snow Blood: Lol, well Miguel's reaction is probably going to be a bit different than what everyone expected. I hope it goes over well. I really couldn't play with it as much as I wanted to, because other things needed to happen in this chapter :(. Thanks for reviewing girl!

Kou-Kagerou: Lol! I'm honored to receive the rating of over all coolage from you :). I'm glad this chapter went over better than the last and I humbly offer you this chapter as well for you to tear apart lol! Long reviews don't bother me, you should know ;). I like to read them. Dilandau's IV port is in the center of his right hand just below the knuckle of his middle finger. He wears long gauntlet sleeves, you know the kind on peasant tops that extend to mid-knuckle, that cover the site when he leaves his hands at his sides, but when performing sequences of motion it can be visible. But it's just a flash of something white and then it's gone. Dilandau's not really allowed to participate in the actual lessons, so he doesn't move much for his students usually. But Van has noticed the port on occasion ;). Lol, no I hadn't noticed I was putting Dilandau in Van's colors. You know, I thought Van's pants were a dark brown, but I watched an episode the other day and saw that they were cream colored lol! I guess I like Van's color schemes lol. Go Van! Dilandau's scar has faded into a hairline that's barely visible unless on is just point blank staring at that side of his face. I figure it was so big in the series because Dilandau kept messing with it lol; here he had Folken and Marie to treat it and he didn't poke it, because Marie would have put embarrassing mittens on his hands. "Cheek..cheek..." lol! The sprinkler incident... He's still thinking. He needs something good, because Folken is... gah! What would really and truly bother him enough to make him shout? Hehehe, the shower scene was fun to write. I was like hmm...what's a good way to freak Van out? The mixed signals came out of the blue, lol. I was just writing and all of a sudden... you know what I would think if I kept seeing Miguel staring at Van like that? You've hit Miguel's disposition right on :). Whew! Okee, I think I covered everything lol! Until next time, chica! Thanks for the great review! Have a safe trip home :). Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and everything in between!

Glass Angel1: Lol! Hope you didn't hurt yourself falling out of that chair :). Yes, Miguel is gonna regret it ;). Thanks for review, and take care!

S.P. Vinter: I know what you mean about starting stories and trying not to get your hopes up too high. A lot of stories start off really, really good and then when you actually get into the story, you think : ugh. I'm glad my story wasn't one of those for you :). Lol! You were trying to figure out what to say to me? Lol, I've never had anyone be that thoughtful before. People usually just tell me the first thing that comes to mind. "Dang, you got a big butt!" Lol! Sorry, had to put that in :). I'm glad you did say something, I enjoyed reading your review. I always like to hear people say that the story is still Escaflowne but its mine too. I'm trying to stay true to the anime, but give it more and leave myself room to take it another direction. Character evolution is the best thing about writing a story, and I'm glad you think I do a good job of it :). Glad you liked the Folken line too; I was like: Oh for Corniness sake! But I couldn't not have him say it, lol! The Slayers night out was why it took me so long to get the update out. I wasn't going to write all that, but they decided that I should. It's always good to know when people find me amusing too :). I always think no one will laugh. Well, I hope you like this next chapter. It's not as funny and longer... and well, you'll see. Take care and thank you for reviewing!

Nikku: Silly chic, you know I'm alive. You e-mail me and get responses enough to know my work schedule lol! Lol, Van did think ahead of what to wear for the fight, but unfortunately what he thought was a "hot" outfit to grab Dilandau's attention would be his downfall. Hehehe! Dilandau's injection site is in the center of his right hand just below the knuckle of his middle finger. Dilandau is ambidextrous and he holds his sword in his left hand to keep pressure of the right, but it isn't enough of a nuisance to where if he really needed to, he couldn't pass the sword to his right hand. Yes, Viole and Miguel are mean to Van and it's fun! :). Van is a little shrimp, which is why he couldn't offer Dilandau any pants, but shirts and things ran a bit long in those days, and Dilandau's skinny, so he didn't have a problem with the top. :) Dilandau is still trying to help Folken and Van's relationship :). Lol! Well, I don't know. If I always caught Miguel and Van looking at each other, and trading remarks, I might think the same thing ;). Lol! Folken attacking Allen with a pen would be funny. I should write that in! Can you see Allen's face? What the...? Lol! Folken and Marie, I already told ya about that one ;). True, when people like Dilandau bat their eyes, you usually asked, "What have you done now?" The Slayers are bad about gossip aren't they? But don't you know, men gossip as bad if not wore than women? They're awful! Lol! They're just better at not being scientifically documented doing it ;). Lol, Van/Miguel probably isn't gonna go over like you would have expected. I had to many things to do in the chapter to really delve into it lol. You'll see... Well, I hope you enjoy this. Sorry it's much later than what I said! Take care, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and thanks for reviewing!

Koneri: Lol! Glad you liked the plot twist. It came out of nowhere, literally, but I'm glad it went over well. I hope you like the new chapter! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

NB: Lol! Don't you love talking to stories, books, or television? I mean, the people never listen to you, but hey... at least you can say you tried, lol. Aww... but picking on Miguel is so much fun, because he's so easy to get a rise out of. Even Viole says so. He can go tease Guimel and Guimel will just stare at him, but Miguel gets huffy :). Hehehe, I'm going to be looking more into Van and Allen torture for future chapters though ;). Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Jhaylin: Lol! I'm glad you liked it. Miguel's reaction when he sobers up is probably going to be a bit different than what you might expect. I hope you like it :). Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Aurebec: Hey chic. Lol, yes you are reviewing :). E-mails are fine too though ;). Dilandau the Matchmaker, lol! He'd love that title. Maybe he will work on Folken and Marie. You'll see ;). Van is good comic relief. He's just so awkward lol! Shesta and Gatty's reactions were fun. I made them act like me actually. I wouldn't have been able to get off the floor laughing so hard about it, and I couldn't have looked either one of them in the eyes, lol. Guimel and Dallet scenes are fun to write, but I can never really find anything for those two to do. I want to give them more scenes, but I always have to flex my brain to figure out what can be going on in them, lol. Yes, Allen is in this chapter :) and he gets wound up, a lot! Lol! He's fun to mess with too. So, here's the next chapter, not next part...it's ended up being too long to be a part lol! Take care, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and thanks for reviewing!

SkippysCat: Hello Ms. Chica. I went to visit your site, and I'll have to e-mail you with my comments :). We have a lot in common when it comes to anime, actually lol. Wow, 170 thousand words? Dang. This isn't a story; it's an encyclopedia! No, Van wouldn't have won that first fight, if it hadn't of been for Hitomi. Dilandau would have cut him down from behind. Van the peacock lol! That's funny, because I read a series by Mercedes Lackey and her character, Vanyel, who they call Van, is a peacock too, lol. :) The Slayers group relationship is fun, and Viole's such a hug-gy type person, I figured I could get away with the little hug he gives Dilandau in public lol. Nobody really cares what they do anymore... except maybe Allen ;). Dilandau using Van's bath was fun. I loved writing Van's freak out scene lol. Van is very observant and he does know something is wrong ;). You'll see what it drives him to do ;). Hehehe for Van's luck ;). But yes, the Slayers pretty much accept him...well most of them anyway lol. Hehehe, I think Dilandau was counting on Shesta to tell Gatty, lol, and writing those two was fun, because I could put myself into the scene and laugh with them. No, it wasn't nice of them to leave Miguel and Van alone, and the evening was kind of important to Miguel :(. Hehehe, the aftermath of the evening out is a bit delayed in this chapter due to circumstances beyond the character's control. The author, lol! I never mind long reviews, I crave them like you love long chapters lol! Merry Christmas girl, happy New Year, and thank you for reviewing! Take care!

Spoon no Miko: Lol, thanks! Dilandau was sorry that he missed it, lol, but I'm sure the others will tell him all about it ;). I hope this update is soon enough for ya! Thanks for the review! Take care!

Pocketfirefairy: Lol, yes I'm alive. Aww... tough love for Miguel lol! I hope you'll never have to deal with anything like that either lol! Glad you like it though. Thanks for reviewing girl! Take care!

Strangedream: Lol, drunken Miguel says he doesn't love you, because you're laughing at him. Glad you liked the Folken line and it wasn't too cheesy for ya! Thanks for reviewing and take care girl!

Omnipotent Pyro: Hehehehe, strangely comical? I like that! Lol! Van and Miguel as a couple came out of thin air lol. I was just writing and there it was lol. Yes, Miguel did make a fool of himself, and no he wasn't in his right mind...but do you think his friends will care about that fact? :) Lol! Hehehehehehe, poor Van... he's turning into quite the drama queen...er king, isn't he? Lol, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Mars Fire Goddess: Lol! I love being unpredictable! It's a very hard thing to do lol! Miguel's attitude about gay couples kinda seemed fitting for him in way, since he's so proper. And I needed someone to throw up that wall. The reactions may be a little delayed, I had a lot of things to do in this chapter and certain events that happen will postpone any really funny happenings lol. Sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks fro reviewing chic! Have a happy holiday!

Squizles: Lol thanks, and thanks for reviewing! Take care!

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Chapter 22

Allen looked grimly around the long table in the King's conference room as he relayed the desperate message he had received from the Astorian troops guarding the Western border.

"We're going to have to dispatch our troops to help them. We can't let Zaibach penetrate the country any further," General Alloju said, looking quite shaken by the horrible statistics Allen had rattled off. The strands of gray in his red hair had become more prominent since the start of the war. "How are those recruits you're training, Mr. Gatty."

Allen rolled his eyes over to Dilandau's first in command who sat in his absent leader's place beside Folken. Dilandau's frequent absences annoyed Allen. Just what was the boy doing that was so important he couldn't attend business meetings? Allen hated to admit it, but Dilandau was brilliant and his input was greatly needed.

"They're coming along quite nicely sir, but they'll need a few more weeks before we can declare them battle ready," Gatty said

"We may not have a few weeks to wait for them," Captain Sparks sighed. "Zaibach is making it's move now. Fighting is breaking out all over, and the allies are calling in. They want to join forces."

"I've talked to them," Dryden said flatly. "Those idiots are still arguing amongst themselves in their home countries, and I refuse to work with anyone who hasn't resolved their own issues first."

Allen snorted quietly. "Well I guess that means we won't be receiving any aid from our allies."

Dryden smirked at him, pushing his glasses down onto his nose. "Then it's good I have a wonderful person like you on staff, Allen."

Allen fought back a growl. He hated when Dryden addressed him without his title in formal settings, and Dryden knew he hated it!

"Actually," Dryden continued, rising from his high-backed chair and walking around the table to stand in front of the blank drawing board. "I don't think we'll need to send an entire battalion of troops to squelch this rising. From what I read in the report, it sounds like something a small team of specialist could handle."

Allen stared. A small team of specialist? He caught Dryden's eyes and realized they were resting on Folken and the young blond on his left.

"How about it, Mr. Gatty? You think your team could take care of the problem for us. I'd love to see you in action. Lord Folken has told me wonderful things about you." Dryden's ever present grin didn't falter and Allen concentrated on Gatty, studying the boy's expression.

Gatty looked neither surprised nor overwhelmed. Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, the boy said, "From what Sir Allen has presented to us, the task doesn't sound like anything my unit couldn't deal with. I cannot officially make the decision to mobilize without consulting with my superior first, but I'm sure he'll say the same thing."

"Lord Dryden, I really must object to this! To send seven boys in against a small army would be folly! Zaibach will laugh us off the face of Gaea..."

"Zaibach certainly wasn't laughing when 7 boys blew up 9 of their bases and major weapons keeps. And I'm willing to bet they didn't laugh when 7 boys obliterated their new special task force deployed just to take the 7 out, because they were causing too much of a disturbance," Gatty said brusquely. "They're scared of us."

"I agree with the idea of sending out a small, elite team," Folken said, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

Allen threw his hands up into the air, exasperated. Why did he even bother to attend these things anymore? No one listened to him, since the King got ill and Dryden started hosting the circus.

"But I don't think the team should solely consist of the Slayers..."

Allen narrowed his eyes in Folken's direction.

"I think Sir Allen and some of his men should accompany them and perhaps the Escaflowne. That is, if Sir Allen and the King of Fanelia are willing to participate in such a mission." Folken's tired eyes met Allen's and roved over to Van.

Van was frowning; he'd been frowning since Folken had entered with Dilandau's right hand. "I'm willing to do anything to help, especially with the Slayer unit. I work with you everyday, Gatty, and I really want to consider myself part of your team. If you'll have me."

Gatty's blue eyes widened a bit and strange smile curved his lips. "Of course we'll have you, Lord Van. You're an honorary Slayer now."

Van smiled, and Allen's brow wrinkled. He didn't like that Van was getting so friendly with the ex-Zaibach soldiers. The King spent most of his free time with the Slayers and had even gone out with them the previous night to the market place where they'd caused the pandemonium that none of his men could shut up about.

"Sir Allen?" Folken asked, getting Allen's attention. "How about you? Would you go and assist King Fanel and my charges?"

King Fanel. Allen didn't like Folken, but it still saddened him that he felt the need to address his brother with such formalities, and Van didn't try to correct him.

Sighing, Allen said, "If Lord Dilandau decides to go and occupy the Western borders, my men and I will go as well. War is not a game for boys, especially ones that can't find the time to be present for business. Just where is Lord Dilandau this fine morning? I've heard stories of your outing last night, Mr. Gatty; did he stay out a little too late?"

Gatty flushed with anger, but it was Folken that spoke up, his face as expressionless as ever, "Lord Dilandau was with me yesterday evening, Sir Allen, and this morning he is attending to other business that requires his immediate attention. Lord Dryden has excused his absence, and Mr. Gatty is fully competent to be here in Lord Dilandau's stead."

Allen disguised a scowl with a polite smile. "Well, if Lord Dryden... has excused the boy, I see no need to pursue his whereabouts. I would have his answer in an hour."

"And I will gladly get it for you," Folken bowed his head in acquiescence.

Dryden chuckled, taking the attention away from Allen and Folken and bringing it back to himself. "You know what I like about you, Allen? You take every little insignificant detail about any event and make it important. Nothing ever gets by you."

There was an undertone and a slight wink added to the end of the statement that made Allen take it as an insult. There were soft snickers and a few smirks passed around the table as Dryden stood with his arms folded over his chest, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.

Twit.

"Well, if all it seems we need is word from Lord Dilandau, I move to adjourn this meeting and I'll send out personal messengers to you when I receive his reply." Dryden tapped the long table lightly with his tanned fingers and gave a tiny wave in parting.

The captains and general rose, bowing to Dryden and exiting the room quietly. Only Van, Folken, Gatty, Dryden and Allen remained. Van was standing beside Allen, but at a nod from Gatty, walked around the table to stand by the other boy.

"Some of us are having a meeting," Gatty was saying cryptically. "I think you should come."

Van's expression flashed from startled, to elated, to calm acceptance. "I'll be more than happy to make an appearance."

"Van..." Allen began, a note of caution in his voice.

"I'll be fine Allen. Go have breakfast with Hitomi; she's been peculiar lately. I'll see you later."

Van left with Gatty and Folken looked after them, tired eyes now exhausted.

"Lord Folken, I'd like to have a word with you," Dryden said, smiling invitingly and striding to Folken. "Good day, Allen." Dryden delivered another smirk and lead Folken through the private back door that would take them to the King's private rooms.

Allen stood alone, confused, angry, and insulted.

Straightening his back and shoulders, he marched out of the empty room with his head high. Allen Schezar was not going to let Dryden, Folken, or any rotten kids upset his morning. He would go and have a nice breakfast with his men and maybe have a nice day with Hitomi. Allen really had been ignoring the girl, but with all that was going on with getting supplies ready for upcoming battle, helping with restorations, and keeping his eye on the Dragonslayers, the girl just got lost in the shuffle.

He could hear the loud laughter coming from the minor dining hall as he approached it and he had serious doubts about going in. Perhaps, he should just order room service. The large dining hall for the nobles and officials did not serve breakfast, and with the mood he was in, Allen didn't know if he could deal with the rambunctious behavior of his men and whoever else was in there with them.

Allen paused just outside the door, debating. Go in and eat now, or go back to your room and have to wait for the cooks to make something for you...

His stomach gave a rumble, ending the argument and propelling him inside the room to be met with the sight of his men, Kio, Reeden and Gaddes, and some men from different units gathered around one table with all of their attention directed at one of Dilandau's men...

It was the jester; what was his name? Allen shook his head; he'd heard the boy being shouted at often enough that he should know his name.

"The look on that girl's face when you threw her back and kissed her like that! I bet she taught you some tricks last night!" Reeden crowed. "You don't got a curfew or something, kid?"

The jester chuckled, running a hand through his shoulder length, chaotic curls and shaking his head. "Eh, Lord Dilandau didn't impose one, but that's probably because he didn't think about it. Geez, I hope no one's been looking for me. You guys haven't heard anything, have ya?"

"Nah," Kio straddled his chair backward, leaning his head on the table and staring up at Jester who sat cross-legged on top of the table. "Some of your guys came in here earlier; snagged a few treats and left. They didn't mention anything about you."

Jester made a face. "Aw man... that could mean anything from: they haven't noticed I'm gone to Viole 'the example.' I knew I should have checked in with someone first, but I wanted food. Damn my gluttony! But, come on, we fell asleep...and it's not like I missed practice or anything."

Gaddes laughed. "Don't explain that to us, Viole, but for what it's worth, your captain seemed to be in a pretty good mood."

"Really?" Jester or Viole's expression went from slightly worried to the usual expression Allen was used to seeing on his face, excited. "How did he look? Good, bad, ok...?"

"Like I was looking at him while that maid was in here..." one man rumbled with a deep, belly laugh; a few other men joined in on his mirth, adding their comments of appreciation for the maid.

"He looked better than he has," Gaddes said thoughtfully. "Is something wrong with him?"

Viole's dark, blue eyes widened a bit in surprise. "No, not at all. He's just been...busy and hasn't been getting enough sleep. So, he looked well rested, yeah?"

"Yeah," Gaddes said with a soft smile, giving Viole the "there's more to this story" look Allen knew so well for he was often on the receiving end of it.

"Boss!" Allen had been lounging in the doorway listening to the conversation and observing the demeanor of the people in the room. They were so comfortable and relaxed around one another. When had Dilandau's men been so accepted and made to feel so cozy within the ranks of Astorian soldiers that would have sooner had their heads roasted on sticks rather than teaming up with them weeks ago? Probably around the same time Van and Dilandau became friends, and Folken and Dryden started having tea...

Honestly was Allen the only one unaffected by his ex-enemies? Allen straightened up, entering the well lit room and greeting his men.

"How long have you been lurking there? That meeting must have been what–10 minutes long?" Reeden asked, kicking out an empty chair beside him for Allen to sit in. Allen nodded, acknowledging the chair, but going to the buffet table first to see what he could forage for breakfast.

The caterers always put out trays of various dishes like bacon, eggs, biscuits, and sausages, but what Allen was looking for was the single platter of fruit that usually graced the table. The other men claimed fruit was for women and often passed over it, so Allen had free reign to eat as much as he liked, but today there was a gap on the blue table cloth where the fruit plate should have been.

Allen whirled around. "What happened to the fruit plate?– and don't tell me one of you ate it."

The boisterous soldiers sobered at the sight of Allen scowling in annoyance. "Uh..."

"His boss took it," Kio pointed at Viole.

Viole's brows rose to his hairline when Allen directed his glare at him. "Hey, don't look at me. I just got here, and besides... was your name on it?"

Reeden smothered a laugh behind a hand and Kio shot Viole a look.

"No," Allen growled. "But to take an entire plate of food is rude. It shows no consideration of others..."

"Boss, they did ask first," Gaddes said calmly. "No one thought you'd be joining us this morning, and you are the only one that eats that stuff."

"Fruit's woman food!" someone grunted.

"See there, they asked." Viole stood on the table and hopped down and it was then that Allen noticed his boots. His eyes almost crossed. Pointy-toes? When did those come back into fashion? Allen had been very happy when they had gone out of style; they hurt like hell and Allen refused to wear them.

"I'm gonna go find my pack and let them know I'm alive," Viole was saying to the men; he brushed by Allen in passing. "Hey, if there's any fruit left, Sir Allen, I'll have it delivered!"

Cackling impishly, the boy left and Allen made no move to follow him, though he'd wanted to. Brat.

He muttered some choice words under his breath and turned his attention back to the limited breakfast buffet. Biscuits, bacon, and eggs were poor substitutes for the lush strawberries, diagonally sliced apples, grapes, and nut assortments that came on the fruit tray.

Damn Dilandau.

He hadn't even seen the boy that day and already he was aggravating him. After selecting a poached egg and two biscuits, Allen made his way to the seat Reeden had kicked out for him and took his place.

Conversation had resumed in the dining hall and the dull roar of men boasting and bragging about their latest conquests helped soothe Allen's nerves as it took his mind off Dilandau, Dryden, Dilandau's Slayers, Dryden, Van, Dryden...

Allen jumped when a strong hand touched him just above the elbow. He whipped his head around, his blond curtain of hair swishing and smacking Reeden in the face while his mouth was wide open for a bite of sausage biscuit.

Reeden sputtered as Allen gazed inquisitively at Gaddes who'd poked him. "What's got you in such a bad mood, Boss? Lord Dryden mocking you again?"

Among other things. Allen rolled his eyes. "I'm not in a bad mood."

"Your right eye's doing that twitch thing," Gaddes pointed out with a slight smirk. An empty plate smeared with grease sat in front of the dark haired man, and he pushed it aside, working on a mug of coffee. "Something major happening on the battle front?"

Allen sighed. Gaddes was not going to leave him alone. He was wearing that look. "Western borders are compromised and Dryden wants to send a small team out to strengthen the troops out there."

"A small team, huh? He wants us to go out?"

"No, he wants the Dragonslayers to go out, but we're invited to tag along; Van too! But that's not what irritates me. I disagreed with Dryden's suggestion, but no one was on my side. It seemed like the entire room was mocking me, not just Dryden. Even Van... though Van's quite ready to turn over his Fanelian crown and become a Dragonslayer. I just don't know what's gotten into him. He hangs out with those boys after hours. He was involved in the fiasco that clown, Viole, was probably telling you all about."

Gaddes was chuckling much to Allen's disgust. Were his own men going to start poking fun at him too? Patting Allen on the back lightly, Gaddes shook his head. "I'm not laughing at you, Boss; relax. It's just... Boss, Van's a kid, and he's had nothing but old guys to hang out with for months. If I was him, I'd jump at the chance to hang out with some kids my age too."

"But these aren't children Van's messing around with; they're..."

"Veteran, ex-enemy soldiers, yeah, but they're still kids, Boss. They fought for the wrong side for a while; so what? They've joined us now, and they've done nothing to make us think that they're untrustworthy."

"Dilandau was a madman..."

"The keyword there, Boss, is: was. Even you admitted he wasn't the same person we met before," Gaddes said, taking another gulp of coffee. "I don't know who or what knocked the crazy out of that kid, but we owe them one. Folken was right in asking Dilandau to come here. We've gained some ground we by all means should have lost to Zaibach, because the kid's sharp as a tack."

True. If they won the war, Dilandau would be one of the major contributors to the victory along with Folken, Allen, Van, Dryden, Hitomi and a few others.

Allen lowered his eyes from Gaddes', focusing instead on his plate of cold eggs and biscuits. He poked at one of his eggs, watching the yellow yoke bleed from its fluffy white exterior. His stomach was silent; his hunger pains had abated.

What Gaddes was trying to say was slowly seeping into the pores of his brain. Could it be? Was Allen being... too hard on Dilandau and his followers? Had they really given him any reason within the confines of the castle to be hostile and untrusting toward them?

"Boss?"

Allen's eyes snapped up from his plate and connected with Gaddes' once again.

"Give the kid a break."

Sighing, Allen nodded. He pushed away his breakfast. "Maybe I have been acting a bit childish, holding Dilandau's past faults over his head when everyone agreed to forget them. Everyone else sure seems a lot happier than I am at the moment, because they were able to do that. So perhaps it's time that I did. I will not hate Dilandau anymore for his past insanity and I will not hate his followers anymore for their past actions."

"Very good, Boss..."

"I will hate Dilandau for liking fruit, and I will hate his men for obligating themselves to make sure that he has fruit... all of the fruit..." Glaring disdainfully at his cold breakfast food, he patted Gaddes on the shoulder. "Thank you Gaddes. I feel a lot better after our little talk, lighter."

Gaddes was staring at him incredulously, coffee spattered on the front of his shirt. "Boss..."

"I'm going to go ahead and order room service like every other self respecting noble does in the morning. If there's any fruit left over, I can get some, and if I can't, at least the food will be hot."

"B..."

"I'll see you this afternoon, Gaddes. We'll have battle plans to look over then."

Allen walked out of the room, leaving Gaddes to gap after him with a small smirk on his face. Dryden wasn't the only one who could get the best of people.

Chuckling, Allen glided down the hallways in search of a maid so that he could order something decent for breakfast.

---

Shower and a change of clothes, or should he just bust into Miguel's room and announce himself? Well... Viole chewed his lower lip thoughtfully as he tiptoed down the hallway past Lord Dilandau's room. He could hear voices coming from it and figured the captain was having a meeting. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt and draw more attention to himself.

Viole sighed. Well, he probably better go ahead and check in with someone. It wasn't like any of his friends wouldn't have noticed the fact that he'd never come home last night, so there was no point in changing and trying to look fresh.

Viole stopped treading so timidly and sat down on the soft red rug, lining the hallway. First thing's first, he was getting these damn pointy-toed boots off. He couldn't believe he'd walked all the way back to the castle in them. Viole and Heather hadn't been able to find his real boots; someone had taken them. Thank the gods they'd left his clothes behind.

Viole's poor feet sang out in joy and relief as the fake leather boots were removed. Free at last! He wiggled his toes within the soft stockings he wore and bounced back onto his feet, boots in hand.

Was he still wearing the ears?

Who knew. He smiled faintly, remembering the troop of players and their songs and games, and most importantly the beautiful Helena... or Heather. Viole really hadn't meant to stay out all night, but Heather had stolen him away. She wanted to give him her own personal tour of the market place and other sites of Astoria under the moon. Yes, that had been exactly what Heather had said "under the moon."

She was a dreamy type of girl, what Guimel would call dizzy. Long black hair that hung well past her waist and misty green eyes that captivated Viole whenever they smiled at him was Helena. They'd eaten for free in a bakery (Viole would really have to go back and pay for what they'd taken), they'd run along the beach, and they'd fallen asleep in the sand. Viole had woken up with his face meshed in the soft raven nest of Heather's hair with her warm, supple body in his arms. It would have been heaven, if Viole hadn't noticed the sun rising! Oh shit! Viole had awoken the girl, kissed her in parting, and ran like hell for the castle gates.

He knocked before throwing open Miguel's door. Miguel was undoubtably pissed at him for leaving him with Van last night. Viole wondered how that had gone? Maybe Miguel would have an interesting story to tell too.

"Morning Miguel, before you start bitching at me, let me... Guimel? Dallet? What are you two...?"

"Viole! You dirty dog!" Guimel had been lying on Miguel's bed with his arms tucked behind his head, but he sprang from that position faster than Viole could blink to run at him. Gripping him by the shoulders, Guimel pulled him into the room, closing the door.

Someone, presumably Dallet, tugged at his arms from behind, tossing him toward the bed and then both Guimel and Dallet were on him like rabid jungle cats closing in on cute little bunny-rabbits. "Where have you been, friend?" Dallet asked, the quirk of his lips and the arch of his brow giving Viole the impression that Dallet already knew the answer to the question he'd asked.

"Um... out." Viole struggled to sit up on the bed, but was pushed back down by Guimel.

"With the delectable Helena, we know; what we don't... is how far you got. All night, man! You were gone all night!"

They him? Dallet and Guimel moved back to give Viole room to sit up, but then proceeded to pound him on the back.

"Tell us what happened!"

Viole was still confused. Of course they knew he'd been gone all night, but how had they known about Heather... Wait, they'd called her 'Helena,' meaning... "You guys saw my play!! What did you think? Did you like it? It was total improv! They gave me a costume and told me who I was and everything, but after that it was all up to us to come up with the story! Could you tell I was winging it?"

Guimel rolled his eyes and Dallet scoffed.

"Yeah, we saw your play. You were great.... now tell us, was she great?"

"How do you know I went anywhere with Heather?"

"Heather, hm?" Guimel rubbed his chin. "Pretty name. So...?"

"You didn't answer me," Viole pressed, running a hand through his hair and frowning as left-over leaves from his garland crown and sand from the beach came away in his fingers. He supposed he should have taken that shower first...

"Shesta sent me to get you after the play and when I found the Players, they said you had left already with Helena."

"Shesta?" Viole was grinning from ear to ear. "He saw the play too? How about Gatty? Did he see? What about Miguel? Say, where is Miguel? Why are you in his room?"

"Forget them," Dallet insisted, resting a hand on Viole's shoulder and peering into his eyes seriously. "Now, what happened with Helena? Did she give you a private showing of her Dance of the Water Nymphs?"

Viole shoved the other dark haired boy away, grunting in annoyance. Damn perverts... both Dallet and Guimel. Just because they liked to kiss and tell didn't mean Viole liked it too. Besides... he and Heather hadn't really done anything Dallet or Guimel would find interesting anyway.

They'd talked; they'd held hands... Nothing raunchy or invasive; they'd just had fun and enjoyed each others' company. Every once and a while, it was nice not to be viewed as the comic relief. Heather had told him he was the smartest guy she'd ever met, considering the crowd she ran with, she wasn't saying much, but it made Viole feel special, empowered. Someone looked up to him, adored him; thought he was cute... Viole beamed at the memory and once again felt himself being shaken.

"Well? Don't just smile about it; share!" Guimel demanded.

"Yeah, it's the absolute least you can do, after we babysat Miguel for you this morning," Dallet threw in, making Viole frown.

"Babysat Miguel?" He gazed around the room, seeing no sign of his partner, but noticing certain things amiss. There were pillows and blankets on the floor as if Miguel had had a slumber party, and a basin sat on the night stand along with a tall glass of... Viole crawled over the bed, taking the glass of clear liquid and swirling it around a bit... flat seltzer. "What the hell happened last night? And where is Miguel?"

Guimel sighed dramatically, finally realizing that he was getting nothing more out of Viole about his evening. "Trying to drown himself in the bathtub now that he remembers what a jackass he made out himself last night."

Dallet chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You asked if we saw your play? We saw most of it, but had to skip the conclusion to stop our boy, Miguel, from jumping off a bridge."

Viole gapped. "A bridge?" What a drama queen! So Viole had dumped him one evening to do something more entertaining... "Why...?"

"He was drunk! Old Van said the dummy had downed like 3 bottles of wine. Remember when most of the audience exited before your finale?"

"Yeah," Viole scratched his head, ignoring the filth he was getting in his nails. "Ray said a crazy boy proclaimed his undying devotion to some guy who wasn't hearing it, so he was gonna– Oh shit! That was Miguel?!"

Guimel and Dallet nodded, chortling at Viole's statement.

"Oh man, I wish I was out on the street to hear the rumors!"

Viole slid off the bed and turned to face his giggling comrades. "So, what really happened? Miguel got drunk and got up on a ledge...?"

"Well, me and Dallet were all set to join Miguel and the rest of your guys for the last part of dinner, and we waltz up on Miguel up on the rail of the main bridge. Van pulled him down, they fell on top of each other, and Miguel planted a big wet one on Van, declaring his love. By then, there was a big crowd watching, and Gatty and Shesta appeared out of nowhere. Then Miguel puked all over Van and himself, and we dragged his sorry ass back here."

I missed all that? Damn. Viole shook his head. How had Miguel managed to let himself get so drunk while he was alone with Van Fanel?

Viole sighed deeply as guilt set in. If he hadn't have left him, it wouldn't have happened. Now Miguel was going to have to endure endless teasing from other people besides Viole. Poor guy...

All he had wanted was one lousy dinner without hearing people belch and bellow 'Play it again Sam!'

"So... he's in the bathroom?" Viole asked, subdued.

Guimel yawned and Dallet nodded.

"Ok. I'm sorry for not being here guys. I can take over, if you'll give me a chance to grab a shower and change."

"Sure," Guimel purred lazily; he stretched out across Miguel's bed again.

Viole walked to the door, but stopped, shoulders hunching a bit. He turned, resting his back against the door. "How's Lord Dilandau?"

Dallet blinked, giving a genuine smile free of innuendo. "He's good, really good. Folken's a little wary and banning him from doing a lot stuff today, but he looks better than he has in a long time. It worked, Viole."

"And... just in case you're worried," Guimel droned, "he hasn't said a word about your little absence, but I would still let him know that you're back. We can keep an eye on Miguel a little longer while you do that."

Viole smiled. "Thanks guys!" He left the room feeling elated. A wonderful evening out and wonderful news...

Ah, but wait. This was his life. Nothing could ever be that good for long. He groaned, wondering what event was about to transpire to balance his good fortune with bad.

Bah, I hate being me sometimes.

---

Gatty led him down the hallway Van had always tried to avoid, because he knew Folken dwelled there. Well so, it seemed, did the Dragonslayers. Of course they would live near Folken!

"Allen Schezar really wanted a sword up his ass," Gatty was muttering. "If Folken hadn't been sitting right next to me..."

Van wasn't really listening to the other boy, but he nodded along if Gatty turned to look at him for his agreement. Allen was trying at times, but he was still a good friend of Van's and he wasn't about to bad mouth the knight. In fact, Van was seriously contemplating on going to Allen with his "dilemma." It was bad when it was just Dilandau, but now there was the issue with Miguel.

It was easier when he could just write Miguel off as someone he didn't care for, as an obstacle...but now he was something more. Miguel was someone Van understood. Like Van would filter Merle's potential suitors when she reached the appropriate age, Miguel was doing the same. Van couldn't fault him for that, but the dirty pranks would have to stop, and maybe they would after last night.

Gah, last night had been a nightmare. Never again would he go out with the Dragonslayers alone. Van would always make sure he was busy after dark if they should ever try to include him again.

Van was pretty sure Dilandau had told Shesta and Gatty his speculation about Van and Miguel for the two blonds had been acting rather suspicious and very silly in his presence. There was no telling what they thought now, after Miguel, drunk as hell, had proclaimed his love to him and...and...kissed him!

Van had wiped his lips on his hands, his shirt, then rinsed them with soap when he'd gotten back in. He could still feel the wetness of Miguel's lips against his and his tongue trying to push itself into his mouth! The kid hadn't been playing around!

They stopped at a door and Gatty knocked twice before entering. Van walked in a few paces behind him, wondering who's room he'd been taken to and praying that it wasn't Miguel's.

Dilandau and Shesta sat at a small round table, munching on plates of fruit and gazing at him pleasantly.

"Have a seat, Lord Van," Shesta said. "Have some breakfast. How did the meeting go, Gatty? What's going on now?"

Gatty was already pulling up a cushioned, wooden chair at the table beside Shesta, leaving Van no choice but to sit in the empty chair next to Dilandau. Oh gods... he'd forgotten to dab on the cologne he'd borrowed from Allen, and gods!– He didn't have enough time nor discrete distance to check his breath!

"The Heavenly Knight himself picked up a distress call from Astoria's Western borders. Zaibach's sent one of their toy armies to wipe out the walls there, and Lord Dryden wants us to clean up the mess."

Dilandau was biting into a slice of apple, but paused, letting his lips close around the fruit while still holding it between two fingers. He sucked it thoughtfully and Van tried not to watch. There was something about Dilandau today, a new glow to his skin, a faint flush across his cheek bones... Whatever it was, he was.... Van shook his head, distracting himself by grabbing a plate and piling some fruit and buttered bread onto it.

"Really? He's sending us out?" Shesta questioned.

"Well, along with Lord Van, Allen Schezar and his crew. They're really just waiting for your 'ok', Lord Dilandau," Gatty said, smiling at his leader.

Dilandau finally stopped torturing the fruit and Van and finished biting into the wedge. Chewing and swallowing, Dilandau nodded. "Does the Heavenly Knight have any statistics for me to look at?"

Gatty snorted. "Probably, but you know he never mentions things like that once he starts yakking. He got on his soap box today."

"Hm, I'm no longer regretting Folken and Marie's decision for me not to go to the meeting. I would have had to pour water on Allen's box and watch it disintegrate beneath his feet. Then I'd have to listen to one of Folken's boring ass speeches about holding my tongue and controlling my temper," Dilandau said, studying a large strawberry as he held it by its stem. 'One of these days Old Allen is gonna get a sword up his ass. Who knows, it might loosen up the stick in there."

Van held in a chuckle as Shesta and Gatty laughed. Arguments between Dilandau and Allen were always fun, yet it scared him how eerily similar they could appear when in the midst of pissing each other off.

"When did Dryden want his answer by?"

"As soon as possible, so it can wait until we're done," Gatty said, an odd look passing between he, Dilandau and Shesta that made Van frown. Suddenly all eyes were on him and all smiles looked a bit... devious.

"What?" Oh please, please, please, don't let this be about what I think it is.

"So... we were wrong leaving you all alone with Miguel last night. Clearly neither of you was quite ready for that, but we have to know. What happened between you two?" Gatty leaned in.

"Miguel doesn't make a habit of getting drunk, so you guys must have been having a good time. You know alcohol lowers inhibitions?" Shesta placed his elbows on the table.

Van choked on the bit of pear he was trying to swallow and Dilandau thumped him on the back a few times. "Shesta, Gatty, back off. Let the man breathe. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about his first outing. Perhaps its... something he'd like to keep between himself and Miguel. I mean, there was a kiss involved..."

Gods almighty! Of course they'd tell Dilandau everything!

"Miguel's so embarrassed. I don't think I've ever quite seen him like that before." Shesta was shaking his head. "He sobered up an hour before dawn and has been moaning about what an idiot he was ever since."

"And did you try to correct him on that, Shesta?" Dilandau asked, batting his lashes and placing his chin in one hand.

"Why no, I did not. He was an idiot," Shesta retorted. "If I told him any differently, then I'd be lying, and Miguel's not making a liar out of me."

Gatty snickered. "All that aside, we just want to let you know that Miguel's really sorry, and so are we. Next time, we won't leave you guys alone unless you request it. So uh... did you want to start planning for next time?"

Van wanted to scream. No! But... actually... Maybe this was the way to go. Gatty and Shesta looked ready to bend over backward to help him, and Dilandau... gods, Dilandau was having breakfast with him, dimpling at him... In the future, he might even try to counsel Van in private. He would be buying more time with Dilandau, if he feigned interest in Miguel, and his men... Gatty and Shesta, so far, were nothing but supportive.

If Van was to say he didn't like Miguel, that there had been a misunderstanding, eventually they would all have to come to realize who really had Van's affection.... and what if they all felt the same way Miguel did? Dilandau's men were very protective of him, and Van didn't want the entire team coming down on him like Miguel and Viole had been doing.

And... what if Dilandau wasn't ready? He needed to be eased into the idea of being with Van. Miguel had said it himself; Dilandau was innocent when it came to relationships. Maybe Van wasn't doing anything wrong at all; Dilandau just didn't understand what was going on.

But how to get him to understand...? How to make him see...?

He needed serious help from a professional.

"Van? Are you ok?"

"Yeah... yeah, fine. Uh... I don't know about next time. How about we plan that one after our mission? Maybe you guys could help me come up with some ideas." Van gave a weak smile, hoping he looked excited and not constipated.

"Oh yeah..." Gatty breathed.

"Oh yeah," Dilandau nodded. His garnet eyes scanned his guests and their statuses on finishing breakfast. "Gatty, go give Dryden the word. Shesta, go ask Dr. Marie if I'm clear for a trip to Schezar's room for some floor plans."

"Sir!" Both blonds rose from the table immediately, saluting and following one another out of the room. Van sat, stunned. Sometimes he forgot Gatty and Shesta were Dilandau's subordinates; they were so friendly with one another.

And so, he was alone with Dilandau in a strange room. He heard the sound of a wooden drawer opening and closing and he turned to face the noise. Dilandau stood at a tall dresser, holding out the tunic Van had lent him. "I had it washed last night."

Whoa... Van was not in a strange room; he was in Dilandau's room! "I really like the fabric and make. I might have one made for myself."

Dilandau liked the way he dressed! He wanted to dress like Van! "I... can take you to the shop I got it from one day. The lady can do the alterations while you're there in the store."

Dilandau folded the tunic, humming lightly. "Just pick a day; I'll make myself free."

Dilandau was willing to change his plans? Not bad, but he still had so far to go...

"Van?"

Dilandau had Van's full attention. He watched as the pale Adonis' lids drooped and his lashes brushed his cheeks. "When– or rather– how did you know... that you were attracted to Miguel?"

Van nearly bit off his tongue. "What?"

Dilandau came back to the table, passing Van his shirt and sitting back down. "How do you know you like him? I've heard others describe attraction, but it's always different for everyone."

Oh no...no... how could Van explain such a delicate thing to such a delicate person and have it all be false. He couldn't describe feelings he didn't have for Miguel to Dilandau...

So he described the feelings he had for Dilandau.

"When I see him, my heart leaps into my throat, my palms sweat and I take leave of all my senses. I want to be near him, I want him to smile... at me, I want... to be a part of him. I see this wonderful, beautiful person that I want to know everything about. It excites me, when I know I can see him everyday and that sometimes he'll talk to me or glance my way."

Van's voice grew more animated with each word he spoke, his hands gestured wildly and his eyes, bright with passion, held Dilandau's that shone with curiosity and maybe... maybe a touch of... fondness?

"I wonder if it's the same for Miguel," Dilandau pondered aloud. "He's as intense as you are, and together..."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Dilandau called.

Spirit poked his head into the room. "Lord Dilandau, I'm back."

"Viole!" Dilandau clapped his hands. "It's about time. Come, sit, I want to have a quick word with you. Van..?"

Van blinked. "Hm? Oh...oh, you probably want privacy. Sorry. Uh... thanks for breakfast. I'll catch up to you later... Dilandau."

Van pushed away from the table clumsily and stood. As he walked past Viole and reached for the door handle, Dilandau called to him.

Van turned, doorknob in hand.

"Would you mind if I keep using your shower after practice?"

Van beamed. Did he have to ask?

"No, I don't mind at all."

---

The cold water did little to ease his pain, but it brought about delicious thoughts of drowning and putting an end to his misery. Miguel sank beneath the bubbles, closing his eyes and holding his breath.

How could he have been so stupid? How had that bottle of wine multiplied into three? Oh, Miguel had made a fool out of himself without Viole's help. It seemed he was destined to be the butt of every joke his comrades made for the rest of his natural life.

Why did he let them get under his skin so badly? His friends teased each other mercilessly, but with Miguel it always felt like there was a hint of truth beneath their jeers. He'd never really been popular with any crowd.So maybe he wasn't overly likeable, or nice, or fun, or any of the things that made a person worthwhile to hang out with, they were supposed to be his friends.

And... Gods, it really hurt his feelings that his friends could just blow him off as if what might have been important to him meant nothing at all. Miguel wouldn't have walked out on any of them, and he doubted any of them would have ditched one of the others.

Face it, Miguel. Nobody likes you.

Not really.

His eyes snapped open as hands closed over his arms just above his elbows and yanked him upwards. Miguel gasped, as he splashed and sputtered water, pondering the expression on Viole's face. When had he come in?

"What the hell were you trying to do, Miguel? Geez." Viole was nervous. He talked faster than usual when he was, and he trembled.

But what was he nervous about?

"First, you're jumping off of bridges; next, you're drowning yourself in bathtubs." Viole grabbed a large, fluffy towel from his shelf and moved back to the tub, reaching down and trying to stand Miguel up.

Miguel glared and shoved him away. "Get out, Viole! This is a bathroom for gods sake! Did you even knock?" Was nothing sacred with this boy?

Viole surprised him by shoving him back, hard. Miguel rocked backward, nearly striking his head on the tiled wall of his bath. "Yeah, I knocked, you asshole. You didn't answer, and I was worried. Good thing I came in. What the hell were you doing, huh? Do you think you have gills or something?–because you don't!"

"For your information, I'm trying to take a bath. If I didn't answer your annoying call, it's because I was busy!"

"Doing what?" Viole demanded, blue eyes so serious that Miguel almost slipped under the water, again. Viole...serious... extremely rare. Viole surged forward to grab him by the arms and pull him to his feet, and Miguel didn't resist. He rose slowly, knees shaking a bit as they and the rest of his body remembered the reason he'd attempted to submerge himself.

"Gods Viole... I have to sit," Miguel murmured and Viole let him rest on his shoulder a bit as he wrapped the towel around him. Good thing Miguel hadn't seen it fit to remove his undergarments. He didn't want to give Viole anymore material to use against him.

Viole put down the lid on the commode and guided Miguel to the white, fur shrouded seat cover. "Put your head between your knees, Miguel. I'll get you some water."

Miguel really didn't want any water, but Viole was being so strange he was afraid to anger him. He did as instructed and leaned his head on his knees, breathing deeply to ease the tumultuous churning of his stomach and dull the rapid pounding behind his eyes. Never again... I'm swearing off all alcohol.

Tender fingers touched his knees, and there was a soft grunt as Viole sat down in front of him and a sharp clink as a glass was set on the floor. "Are you ok?"

What do you care? Miguel wanted asked. Viole had been snapping at him earlier. "Not really."

"Didn't think so, not after what you drank last night. Were you really that bored without me?"

A flash of anger made Miguel moan in pain. "Not really. King Van was entertaining enough."

"So I heard."

"Look, don't start! I don't want to hear it! I know what I did; I don't know how it got so out of control, and I'm sick of hearing about it! If you're here to poke fun, just go away."

Miguel made the mistake of trying to sit up and nearly toppled off the toilet. Viole caught him and held him steady for a moment, before pushing him back onto his perch. Miguel sat still with his eyes firmly shut, waiting to hear the sound of Viole's feet, leaving.

Silence.

"I'm sorry I skipped your dinner, Miguel," Viole said quietly and Miguel opened his eyes a crack to see Viole peering up at him, smiling tentatively. "I'll never do it again."

Miguel rolled his eyes with a gentle sigh. Well, it was hard to be mad at someone who apologizes... But... but still... Miguel swallowed hard, the taste of betrayal was incredibly bitter and the flavor of falsehood was even worse.

"Miguel?"

"Viole..."

"Yeah buddy?"

"... I wasn't trying to jump off the bridge." He closed his eyes again.

"All right."

"... and I wasn't trying to drown myself." He swallowed again.

"Good."

"Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"This is going to sound stupid."

"I like stupid stuff, so you say."

"You guys rescued me from certain death, we fight side by side and have been to hell and back with each other..."

"Mmhm..."

"But I wonder, like I always do whenever-- well-- something happens like last night... when no one cares about what I want or how I feel... if you do it all because you like me or if it's just a matter of duty to a comrade."

Viole was quiet and Miguel felt his stomach twist around his intestines. Oh gods...oh gods... I knew it. It's different with me; everything is different with me!

Miguel yelped as skinny arms encompassed his waist and a nest of drying chocolate waves invaded his lap. Miguel raised his head a bit, spitting out tendrils of Viole's fine tresses and staring at the dark head against his knees.

Slowly, Viole lifted his head, his eyes sad and his lips slightly sagging. He studied Miguel, before speaking. "Miguel, how can you ask me that?"

Miguel blinked, looking away.

"I... even though we act like we can't stand each other, I thought... You're my best friend. I thought I was yours too, but... I guess not, if you could think that! I guess– maybe– you're not getting the same thing out of our relationship as I am... as the others do."

Viole was talking too fast again, rambling really. "So... I'm not your best friend. I should have known, huh? You probably had better people than me to hang out with where you came from and all. I suppose I don't compare. You never even considered it, I bet. You're right, you know? About me being kinda stupid. I mean, I should have..."

Miguel silenced Viole by placing his own hand on top of Viole's damp locks and guiding his head back to his knees. Carefully, Miguel rested his aching head on top of Viole's, closing his eyes and inhaling the clean scent of his hair. "Shut up, Viole. You talk too much."

And today, I'm glad that you do.

"I'm really, really sorry, Miguel. I didn't mean to leave you all alone like that. I just... I really wanted to be in the play. I thought I could catch up. Guimel and Dallet were trying to catch up. They feel awful about not going. Miguel, if something's really important to you, you gotta say something, man! We're men for gods' sake. We don't pick up on subtleties. Don't you ever, ever, accuse me of not being your friend, and don't ever repeat what you said to me to anybody else. Geez, Miguel... you really know how to make a guy feel horrible. I came in here to be nice and look after your hung over ass and this is what I get."

He hadn't meant to upset Viole, but it felt good to know– to be reminded– of what wasn't obvious sometimes.

"So... how was it with Van anyway? Was it total silence, or did you two talk?" Viole murmured, neither he nor Miguel budging from their positions.

"We talked," Miguel mumbled.

"About what?"

Miguel sighed, trying to recall the fuzzy conversation. He got the feeling that something important had come of it, but mostly he remembered Van catching him, twice. He'd woken up in a drug induced stupor– groggy and nauseous– and strangely, his first coherent thought had been: "Lord Van is a nice guy."

"What?" Viole shifted under him. "He's what?"

"He's a nice guy, honorable..."

"Yeah, but he..."

"He's not the worst Lord Dilandau could do for himself, Viole. He's far from it in fact." Miguel raised his head and decided to see if he could sit up straight and open his eyes.

Viole steadied him as he wobbled, staring at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "But Miguel, you don't like..."

"I can't force my preferences on anyone, Viole; not even on you. You know you don't care. You only went along with me, because I said Van was a pervert."

"And you've decided that he's not, after one evening with him?" Viole raised a brow as he got to his feet and extended a hand to Miguel. Miguel pulled himself up by Viole's hand and staggered into his friend. "Gotcha. Damn, Miguel. You're certainly putting on the pounds."

Miguel almost chuckled at Viole's weak attempt at a joke. He was trying to bounce back. Miguel let Viole lead him out of the bathroom and sit him on his bed.

"He's not a pervert, Viole. He's... believe it or not, but I think he's as virginal as Lord Dilandau, if not more so." Miguel winced and sank back into his mattress, curling his lip at his rumpled blankets and sheets. "Guimel was here..."

"He and Dallet were, but go on." Viole climbed onto the bed and crossed his legs under him. "So... he told you how he felt about Lord Dilandau?"

Miguel made a face. "I think so. I don't really remember everything he said...or I said...which is probably a good thing, but... I just get the distinct impression that he told me something that let me look at him...differently. I mean, I still don't want him sniffing around Lord Dilandau, but..."

"You wouldn't give him the third degree, if he were to–say– go on an 'outing' with Lord Dilandau?" Miguel could hear Viole's grin and he mentally rolled his eyes.

Scrounging around behind his head for a pillow, Miguel said, "I would still give him the third degree, but let me tell you he's the guy you tell to be back at 10, and he'll come back at 9:30 and sit and chat with you."

Viole giggled. "No shit?"

"No shit."

"You know what we sound like, right?" Viole asked. Miguel felt him shifting around on the bed until he was lying down beside Miguel. Miguel turned his head slightly to view Viole's profile.

"What do we sound like?"

"Old, domineering daddies."

They chuckled together for a moment.

"Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?" Viole asked, tucking his arms behind his head and bending knees.

"How did the play go?"

---

Shesta had been in a few minutes ago to tell Dilandau Marie said it was fine for him to go pay Allen a visit, so long as he promised not to break anything or make anyone angry. Well, that certainly took all the fun out of visiting someone, but at least Marie was willing to let him go somewhere on his own without a check up.

The transfusion, so far, had been a success. In 16 hours, there had been no indication of rejection: no rashes, no fever or chills, no pain, and that was a very positive sign. Though Folken and Marie were trying to be optimistic, Dilandau didn't want to get his hopes up too high about being cured. He'd learned very early in the game that he wasn't favored by the gods and to start asking for divine intervention now was ludicrous. If Folken wanted to give watery half-smiles and Marie wanted to cheer and pat his head, that was fine. As long as they'd bought him enough time to finish his job...

Dilandau laid flat on his belly on his large, poster bed with one of his sketch books opened to an unfinished drawing. He twirled his fine charcoal between his index and middle fingers thoughtfully as a large house with four shadowy figures standing on its porch stared up at him. It was the house from his dreams, and the people– Celena, Mother, Brother.

What could Dilandau add to the picture now? Should he shade the porch more or did there need to be more roses in the bushes? There was a swing under the big tree just behind the gate. Dilandau had forgotten all about it! He and Celena had spent hours trying to swing over the branch it was tied to, convinced that they could fly.

Swing... it was square and the ropes knotted, there, there, and...

"Lord Dilandau!" The door to his room burst open and Gatty dashed in, rushing to the bed and leaning onto the mattress slightly out of breath.

"What is it?" Dilandau sat up, closing his drawing book. Gods, it felt good to sit up effortlessly again! He really should thank the people who'd supplied that blood for him.

"The Western borders have been breeched since we got that last report. The guy telegraphing the messages was executed apparently, so we got this morning's request 2 hours late and now this news... Lord Dryden wants us to move, now. He, Folken, Schezar, and Lord Van will meet us in the hangar for briefing."

Battle? "Folken..."

"Says you're fine. I've already sent Shesta to rally the others and get them moving, so all that's left is you and me."

Dilandau narrowed his eyes at Gatty, and the corner of his lips quirked wickedly. "Folken says I'm fine, but did he ask his master Marie?"

Gatty snorted, rolling his eyes and jogging around the bed to grab Dilandau around the waist from behind.

Hm, lets test my new strength, shall we?

Gatty tried to pull him backward off the bed, and Dilandau was quick to break Gatty's hold and flip him onto his back.

"Shit..." Gatty huffed, staring up at the crimson canopy above Dilandau's bed. Dilandau laughed, slapping at Gatty's legs and sliding off the bed.

"Lifted you, heavy Astorian armor and all," Dilandau bragged as he made his way to the closet to don his own armor.

"Heavy my ass," Gatty retorted. "And I wouldn't even call it Astorian armor, after what you did to the design."

Dilandau hummed to himself as he dressed inside his roomy closet, agreeing with Gatty. He had virtually destroyed the traditional knightly armor the Astorian general had given to him and his men. It was too bulky, heavy, and old fashioned for the style of fighting Dilandau taught and engaged in. They may not have been allowed their Zaibach colors anymore, but their Zaibach armor was still needed. He and Viole had taken one of their suits down to the palace tailor and blacksmith, and together, they'd reconstructed Zaibach's designs with a few personal flairs and Astorian colors to be outfitted for themselves and their pupils.

Dilandau didn't rave about how he looked in the blue and gold gear, but it beat stumbling around in a tin can or wearing no protection at all. "Yeah, yeah... the fact still remains that you were off guard, soldier. When we get back, you're doing push ups."

"Lord Dilandau!"

"And swimming laps," Dilandau finished, grinning as he shimmied into blue leather pants and snapped the last buckle on the dusty blue and gold overcoat. Gatty must have gotten off the bed, because Dilandau could hear someone padding around his room in heavy boots. He stepped into his tall boots and began to arm himself. Sword for the sheath, long dagger for the belt, short daggers for the boots...

He was really going into battle again. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Last battle, Dilandau hadn't been up to par and now it was finally time to redeem himself. "Hey, Gatty?"

"Sir?"

"Did Dryden say who was calling the shots?"

Gatty chuckled. "As far as I know, you are sir. He trusts you completely."

Good man, that Dryden. Dilandau would be sure not to disappoint him. He stepped out of the closet, sneaking a quick glimpse at himself in the mirror. He saw the reflection of the warrior he thought he'd never see again.

Welcome back, Captain.

"How do I look Gatty?"

"Like a pretty pansy in blue and gold."

Dilandau tossed his head back and laughed. "That means I look better than you. Come on Number One, I've got a team to lead."

---

Van was the last to enter the hangar as he'd been trying to figure out the correct way to put on the armor he'd been given. Dilandau hadn't made it mandatory dress in practice. Probably because he didn't wear it... Van wondered why, but never asked.

He felt incredibly stupid, clunking into the room in boots he'd yet to break in and armor that felt too big in some places and too snug in others. Being late didn't add to his level of comfort, as everyone was in a large huddle around a few key figures, and all heads turned his way when he entered.

Gaddes waved him over to stand by him and whispered in his ear what he'd missed. The plan was simple. Escaflowne and Scherazade would be carried in the Crusade while the Silver Alseides would fly moments ahead in aerial stealth mode. The Alseides would drop and begin the attack and when the Crusade arrived the Escaflowne and Scherazade would be deployed. They would fan out, each melef staying in its outlined quadrant, cleansing the area. The Crusade would be monitored by Dilandau to make sure that it was able to fly over and drop behind enemy lines to get to any surviving Astorian soldiers in need of assistance and take them aboard. Dilandau didn't want the fight to last more than 45 minutes; any longer and he claimed the battle was lost before it started. They had to be fast.

"What about the Blues? Are we going to be taking them, Lord Dilandau?" Dallet asked.

"No," Dilandau was in the center of the huddle, between Allen and Folken. "We're not going to need them with the Escaflowne as back up. We've heard good things about you in battle, Van."

Dilandau gazed at him briefly, flashing a grin and launching back into the conference. "All right, one last thing. Radio contact is going to be imperative. The Crusade has been wired for communications, but how about Escaflowne and Scherazade?"

Van frowned. "Escaflowne doesn't have a radio for internal communication."

Dilandau nodded. "Dallet, how long will it take you to remove a system from a Blue and put it in Escaflowne?"

"Not long, Sir. The radio systems in the Blues are portable."

"Make it happen."

"Yes sir."

"Sir Allen, how about your melef?" Dilandau looked to Allen, turning his head and lifting his chin a bit. Allen also turned his head toward Dilandau to respond that his communication units were fine. Van squinted at the pair, shivering at their similar profiles. Good gods, the first time Dilandau had come into his room and stood by the window, his profile had reminded him of someone else's. Allen's.

Van supposed the gods got tired of making new jaw lines for every handsome face they created. He wasn't complaining, but it was a little strange. Did they even notice it?

"Departure in 20 minutes," Dilandau concluded and the small cluster began to disperse, leaving Dilandau, Allen, Folken, and Van behind. Van wanted to move forward and stand close to Dilandau. He wanted to joke about the armor and maybe find out what was different about Dilandau that day.

The energy emanating from Dilandau was reeling Van in. Before he could take a step toward Dilandau, Folken intercepted the silver god. He watched as his brother placed both hands on Dilandau's shoulders and said something that sounded like, "Twenty-five minutes, Dilandau."

Dilandau's shoulders slumped again, and– don't do that!– he pouted! Is he trying to kill me? Van's knees had gone weak. All right, if he couldn't talk to Dilandau, he was going to have to stop staring at him. It was detrimental to his well-being at the moment. Allen Schezar might have saved his life, by placing a hand on his shoulder and turning Van to face him.

"Hey Van," the knight looked concerned. His light blue gaze slid over in Dilandau and Folken's direction. "I know it's hard watching your brother interacting with someone else in the way he should interact with you."

Thank gods that was what Allen thought was bothering Van.

He didn't want to hear another "Miguel" explaining to him that same sex crushes were morally unsound. Say, where was Miguel? He hadn't noticed him in the huddle, but then he hadn't been looking for him either. The boy had been pretty soused, and Van wondered if he was even in attendance.

"Van?"

Oh yeah, Allen.

"Um...it's ok," Van muttered, he looked at his feet. "It's not like I want to deal with Folken or anything."

Allen shook his head, smiling sadly. "That's what you think now. It seems like people always take their siblings for granted. Maybe they're not perfect or even likeable...but they're still ours, and we'll still miss them, when they've gone."

Van wanted to say, I wouldn't miss Folken. But– he knew that wasn't true. It nearly destroyed him when he'd thought his brother was dead, and now that he was back, though Van was mad at him, he didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He took care of Dilandau, after all, and he'd clearly done something to make Dilandau even more... wonderful. He should thank Folken.

"Van?"

Had he forgotten about Allen again? "Sorry."

"You've been so distracted lately. Is anything wrong?" Allen's eyes shone with sincerity. He really was a nice guy and a good friend...

Van cringed inwardly, debating. Now was the time to ask Allen for his help. He couldn't think of a more appropriate time, or more importantly, when he'd have the guts to do this again! Allen was a master of seduction. He had to know more than Van about the laws of attraction!

"Allen?"

"Yes, Van?" Allen smiled.

"I need a favor."

"What is it?"

"I... I think I'm in love," Van stuttered, ignoring the way Allen's blond brows did a dance, "but the person I like doesn't even think of me in that way. Can you help me?" He dropped his head onto his chest, waiting for Allen to start laughing, but instead...

"Is it someone I know?"

Van looked up, eyes large. "Uh...maybe..." Hope surged through him.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Allen winked. "Well that's ok." He patted Van's back. "Hitomi was saying something about you liking some girl before, and frankly, I suspected it myself."

"So... so... you'll help me?" What the hell was wrong with his voice? He'd squeaked!

"Sure," Allen beamed. "There isn't a woman alive who's gotten by me yet, and when I'm through with you, you'll be able to say the same thing."

Van grinned back at Allen, thinking in his head: Should I tell him my love interest is a guy?

"Thanks, Allen. I really appreciate this."

"No problem."

Nah.

---

One soldier had actually gasped when Dilandau had introduced himself after descending upon the Zaibach squadron and taking down two of its members with one swing of a crima claw.

Pitiful.

The area was barren, burned– probably by flame throwers similar to the one Dilandau had had on his old Oreades model. It was a shame; from the charred remnants of the land, Dilandau could tell that it had been quite beautiful.

Allen and his men had cursed at the damage, and their righteous anger troubled Dilandau. Schezar's men weren't as good as some of the soldiers he could have trained, and he didn't want any ally casualties due to hot-heads not thinking through their moves. Schezar could handle his own men, Dilandau figured, but he knew it would ultimately reflect on him. Good thing he'd stationed Allen's crew far away from the real fight.

Dilandau had counted about 50 enemy units upon arrival, and within 15 minutes the number had dwindled to 30. Excellent. He used his periscope to keep an eye on Schezar's men in the Crusade. They had landed safely in the hills where they reported seeing white flags. Schezar took over, giving the men orders to take care of the foot soldiers, watching the prisoner's of war.

Dilandau rolled his eyes and sent a crima claw out behind him as some moron tried to creep up on him. Folken's proximity alarms came in very handy. He narrowed his eyes as two more Alseides rushed toward him, crima claws extended into swords, ready to try a double duel.

This could be promising. So far, the soldiers had been moderately easy, and Dilandau was ready for a challenge. Dilandau licked his lips and wiped his palms on his pants, relieving them of any sweat that may have accumulated. "Lets see what you got."

He released a column of liquid metal, watching it solidify into a rapier and charged forward. He caught both of their twin down strikes, throwing them both back and spinning into a low kick to trip the melef on the right. Dilandau used a second crima claw to run the downed guymelef through the chest and swung out with his sword hand to parry another blow from the left Alseid.

He retracted the claw, satisfied to see it thoroughly stained with fluid from the other melef.

Target Disabled.

"I hope that guy wasn't a friend of yours, pal, but oh well, you'll be joining him soon enough," Dilandau murmured as he warded off another blow and countered with a quick thrust, penetrating the belly of standing guymelef. Life's blood oozed from the gapping hole he created, and he quickly removed his sword to block a panicked upper cut from his attacker. An upper cut?– who was this guy's captain? Maybe he'd want to finish him off...

The melef was relieved of an arm that Dilandau's red-bellied Oreades stepped on in pursuit of the fleeing Alseid.

Coward.

Dilandau scowled in disgust. There was no need to put any more effort into this than necessary. He shot out a single spiral of liquid metal, not even paying attention as it ripped through the back of his enemy, killing the target on impact.

This was all Zaibach had to offer? Where was Valeska? At least she had put up a fight, and Dilandau was itching to tango with her again. She was so cocky and sure she'd defeat him; something had to have given her that idea. Perhaps Valeska was better than what she'd given him. Everyone had their on and off days. Dilandau knew that from personal experience.

He hadn't even broken a real sweat yet. Come on, Valeska, appear and give me something to do! Hmph. He switched on his public communication line, anxious to hear of any news about more action in other places. He tried not listen to it in battle; it was distracting. If anyone really needed him, his private link was always open. But, maybe someone would appreciate his assistance.

"Shit! Guimel, is that you? You're in my way!" Miguel was shouting.

"Ah cool your jets, Miguel. You didn't yell at your 'honey bunny,' when he bumped into you," Guimel cooed.

Dilandau bit back a snicker, preparing himself to reprimand Guimel for his teasing, but surprisingly, Viole beat him to it.

"Shut the hell up, Guimel. Get out of Miguel's space and leave him alone, or I'll tell everyone what Molly Big Breast REALLY said about your..."

"Shut your hole, Viole!"

Cute, but it ended the argument. He sighed, "Anyone need any help? I've pretty much cleaned up on my side."

"Nah..." Dallet replied. "I'm almost finished here."

"I've got a few guys here and there, but nothing too troublesome," Shesta answered.

"These guys are easy. I feel insulted just by being here. How could they have broken through the border?" Miguel was huffing.

Dilandau frowned. Good question, Miguel... good question, indeed. "Gatty?"

"There's something coming up fast on my right..." Gatty said, voice fairly occupied. "I'm trying to pull up a visual, but there's some sort of fog or smoke screen jamming my..."

"Holy crud, a troop of about 20 more Alseides approaching and– gack!" Viole yelped. "Oh man, they got that sticky stuff like the Gorgons had. A little help here."

"I'm closest, Viole; sit tight," Gatty instructed.

Dilandau grinned. Action! A thrill ran throughout him and he activated his flight engine to fly to Gatty and Viole's aid.

"Lord Dilandau!" Shesta interrupted his move. "Miguel, Guimel, Dallet, and I will go to Gatty and Viole. We can take out most of the units and back the ones left up into a trap."

Dilandau frowned, trying to follow Shesta's line of thought. A trap? His flame thrower! Of course. He could torch the entire platoon with the canon Folken had attached to his mecha. But... the wheels in his head turned rapidly, formulating plans and spewing possible scenarios. "Acknowledged Shesta." He tapped into Schezar and Van's private communications and added them to the party line. "New plan, there are new enemy units entering in the 3rd quadrant. Silvers, Scherazade, and Escaflowne are to report there to take down as many units as possible within... 10 minutes, then head south to the Crusade or duck for cover. I'm going to smoke the field."

"Yes sir!" His ever obedient Slayers said in unison.

"I'm there," Van said.

Good going. Dilandau began his trek south, tummy full of happy butterflies and tempted to giggle. He was going to use fire; he was gonna burn...everything! He frowned, when he finally realized he'd heard no confirmation from Schezar. Stupid Allen, always spoiling the mood.

"Schezar? You still living?" He needled the knight's private line again.

"Leave me alone, Dilandau. I'm busy."

Dilandau grinned, propping a leg up on the arm of his piloting chair. "I could leave you alone, but I will be roasting the area in a bit. Wouldn't want you caught in the blaze. What would I tell Lord Dryden and your fair, short-haired lady-love, hm?"

"Tell them...uhhh!"

The teasing grin slid off of Dilandau's face at Allen's grunt of pain. "What's going on?"

"Just do what you have to do!" Allen shouted.

"Coordinates, Schezar!"

"D..."

"Now!" There was no way in hell he was ever leaving another soldier behind again, even if was Allen Schezar.

"Fourth quadrant, south. Two guymelefs with some sort of adhesive... Uhh! Something coating my visor; visibility is gone."

Shit; he was blind? "Shesta, I've got a situation. There may be a delay on the 10 minutes, but be prepared to get to safety still!"

"Situation? Lord Dilandau, your battle time is just about up. Let me..."

"Follow the orders given to you, Shesta." Dilandau said. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Dilandau took to the air, switching on his stealth cloak and scanning for Allen. I should have requested for trackers to be installed in every Astorian guymelef used in battle. Dammit, Schezar, there aren't many places for you to hide, so where did you... ah! Dilandau grimaced as Scherazade swung its sword around wildly while keeping its shield close to its chest. Two blue Alseides took turns pushing Allen's crippled melef, while two more struck it like a pinata. Dilandau was descending, when it didn't look like the Alseides wanted to play anymore. One extended a claw, hardening it. "Schezar, demi-volte to the right and dig left!"

Dilandau touched ground as Schezar swung the lag foot of Scherazade behind its body and to the right in a circular half pace, turning the body parallel to the attack. Then, like lightening, the mecha thrust its sword at an angle to the left, skewering the Alseid ready to run him through. "Good."

"Duck!" Scherazade went down on one knee and Dilandau shot a claw at the Alseid behind it. "Don't move, Schezar." Dilandau didn't detach his claw from the Alseid, instead lengthening and liquefying it until it made a nice hook. He hardened the metal and yanked, pulling the dead Alseid forward and smashing one of the other two Zaibach units now coming at him with it, and taking the other out with a second claw.

How long had that taken? He glanced at his system's clock. Six minutes– not bad, Captain. That gave him four minutes to get back across the field; he could do it! How serious could Folken have been able that battle time limit anyway? Thirty minutes, pah! But then again, he gazed around at the equipment in his cockpit suspiciously. Any one of those red and blue lights could be one of Folken's little devices ready spout water at him or worse.

He really owed that bastard one, but he still hadn't come up with one decent revenge that would truly express his sentiments.

"You can get up, Schezar," Dilandau said gruffly, still glaring at the clock. He decided not to push it. "Hold still though. I need to be on the other side of this field fast, and there's no way your guymelef is going to be able to keep up with mine, especially not blind."

He started his thrusters, zipping up into the air, circling and swooping down to catch Scherazade under the arms. His Oreades dipped dangerously for a moment, not accustomed to the extra weight and Dilandau didn't have time to calibrate the system for the overload, so he did a manual adjustment, tilting the body upward.

Just a few more minutes...

"Dilandau?"

Schezar? Oh yeah, Schezar was still in his melef.

"What?"

"Thank you."

Well, hell. He hadn't been expecting one, but hearing it sure was nice. "Any time." His private line was tapped again and he frowned at the frequency the person used.

"Dilandau!"

"Folken," Dilandau beamed.

"Your time is up!"

"I'm landing, geez Folken. Can't a fella except a 'thank you,' in peace." Dilandau chuckled as he set down carefully, still holding Scherazade in an odd bear hug.

"Everyone clear?"

"All accounted for, sir!"

"You all right, Schezar?" As he spoke, he was releasing Scherazade and stepping away from it.

"I'm fine."

"Good, get down and be glad your visor's ruined. I'm about to start a big fire."

---

Allen couldn't believe he'd been rescued by Dilandau. He sat in his wounded Scherazade, replaying previous events in his mind. He'd been caught by surprise by 4 Zaibach guymelefs and one had shot tar from its arm onto his visor, rendering him sightless. Allen had thought he was a goner for sure, when Dilandau had called to him. He hadn't wanted the boy to come for him; he hadn't expected the boy to come for him, but he had. Allen blinked, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through sweaty hair. He'd trusted Dilandau enough to guide him blind in battle. Gods, when he'd told Gaddes he'd give the kid a chance, he hadn't meant with his life!

But life was particularly fond of playing those kind of jokes on him.

He owed Dilandau.

Sighing deeply, he slumped in his chair listening to the sounds of Dilandau unleashing the massive blow torch Folken had foolishly built into his mecha. He rolled his eyes at the gleeful laughter that followed.

Damn pyromaniac.

But as Allen imagined large orange and red blossoms of fire erupting from Dilandau's flame thrower and gobbling up any left over enemy troops in their path, he wanted to laugh too. There was something terribly amusing about fire and the way it destroyed everything in its path. So long as that everything wasn't something of yours...

He scowled at a memory of his small sister Celena that had wormed its way into consciousness. The little hellion had made a bonfire of his new trousers and shoes and had laughed and danced around it like some sort of faerie, until Allen took it upon himself to spank her. Mother had been too soft on the girl... or boy as Celena had always insisted. She had claimed to be a boy with an imaginary twin brother that only spoke to her. Crazy kid...

He'd hated her then, but as he'd told Van just before they left for battle: siblings were not always likeable, but one did miss them when they'd gone or, in Celena's case, disappeared.

Allen's amusement about the fire ceased and a frown graced his lips and wrinkled his brow. This was no time to be thinking about Celena or family issues. He opened his line of communication with the Crusade. "Is everyone all right?"

"Boss! Hey! Yeah, everyone's fine," Reeden's voice spoke back to him. "We saved about 17 guys. Zaibach really worked em' over, but we stomped em' good, huh?"

"I suppose."

"Hey, you ok, Boss? Some of the Slayer boys say you were having some trouble."

"I'm fine. Surprisingly, thanks to Dilandau."

"Silver Boss saved your ass? No way! I didn't think you'd stand still and let him," Reeden crowed. "Hey... Kio, Boss let Silver Kid save his bum."

Allen shook his head as the men on deck laughed. Silver Boss? Silver Kid? His men were not only friendly with the Slayers, but Dilandau as well?

Great, good gods.

"Got orders for us, Boss?" Gaddes' smooth voice crackled, as he'd undoubtedly shoved Reeden away.

"No," Allen shook his head, feeling a bit defeated. Exhaling gently, he said, "This is Dilandau's mission. He's giving the orders today. But I do have a request."

"Go ahead."

"I need you to bring the Crusade around to Scherazade and guide me into the hangar. We've got a visor to clean."

Dryden was waiting in the hangar for them upon return, and Allen groaned at the prospect of having to deal with the man after what he'd been through. He hoped no one told Dryden that he had to be rescued.

Allen was the last to leave the Crusade, walking slowly down the wide plank looking for cover from Dryden. The hangar was a busy area, full of troops trying to service guymelefs and test equipment. The sun had just set, but there was still plenty to do before the work day was over. Allen could claim his attention was needed elsewhere, like...

"Allen!" Dryden was calling.

He spotted Van chatting with Dilandau by his Oreades. Ah! He hadn't thanked Dilandau properly for saving his life. Sorry Dryden.

Allen pretended not to hear the bifocal-wearing heir apparent, and strode in Van and Dilandau's direction. Dilandau's attention shifted from Van to Allen at his approach, and Van frowned, turning around to view Allen as well.

"Allen," Van greeted him. "You're ok." Van had chosen to fly back to Astoria in the Escaflowne instead of riding in the Crusade.

"Yes, I am," Allen agreed. He looked at Dilandau, noting his fresher appearance for the first time. Had the boy finally gotten some sun? "I didn't thank you properly for coming to my rescue."

Dilandau stared at him out of those strange colored eyes of his, silently sizing him up. Allen kept his shoulders straight, not intimidated in the least by Dilandau. He wasn't an enemy and hadn't been for a long time.

Not anymore.

"I did my job. I would like to think you'd do the same for me if I ever should need your assistance," Dilandau finally said.

Allen stretched a hand out to Dilandau, and he gave a half smile when the boy took his hand and shook it firmly. "Good job today, Dilandau. Lord Dryden wasn't wrong in allowing you to join us."

Dilandau blinked at him and Allen released his hand. "Good to know."

"Dilandau," Van spoke up, sounding curious. He'd been quiet, shifting from foot to foot while Allen and Dilandau had their moment.

"What?"

"You've got something on your hand." Van took the hand Allen had shaken, turning the palm over to reveal fine red bumps coating the area. All three men stared at the limb, before Dilandau snatched it back with an odd glimmer in his eyes, letting it fall limp at his side

"Dil..." Van started.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you later." Dilandau jogged off, ducking under two soldiers carrying a crate between them and continuing on out of the hangar.

Allen frowned, wondering what that had been about and would have asked Van his opinion, if he hadn't seen the look on the boy-king's face. Why he was gazing after Dilandau like a lovesick maiden on the royal court?

Goddess mother, Van's crush. He had never actually told Allen who it was; he'd never exactly told Allen it was a woman. Could it be? Could Van...?

"Allen..." Van had turned to him, grabbing his wrists, hard, large cinnamon eyes pleading. "...you've gotta help me. I think I'll die, if you don't. He's driving me crazy."

"Dilandau?" Van had to confirm it. He had to know.

"Yeah..." Van's grip didn't ease. "I'm sorry, if you think it's wrong, or if you don't like him, but if you don't want me to die..."

Allen had to laugh. Van was being as dramatic as a woman having vapors. Die, indeed. Van glared at Allen, letting go of his arms and waiting for Allen to regain his composure.

Allen gave an undignified snort as his fit came to an end, and he ruffled Van's hair to ease his nerves. Well... Allen owed Dilandau one, and he owed Van so many times he couldn't count. It certainly wouldn't hurt to give setting up this relationship a try.

"All right, Van, relax. No need to expire; I'll help you. We'll start with the basics; what does he like?"

---

Folken was star gazing, an old hobby of his from when he was a kid in Fanelia. His room had a small balcony just large enough to set up a miniature telescope. Folken studied the patterns of the stars, wondering how much they'd changed since he was a prince.

He remembered trying to teach Van the constellations and how the boy had stumbled and stuttered over each one, determined to get them right to please Folken. Mother had found it adorable how Van doted on his big brother and tried to imitate him. Those were better days, back when Father was still alive. Before wars, and dragons and betrayals...

Folken sighed. What was going to happen after the end of Zaibach? Where would he be needed and who would need him?

Van didn't want anything to do with him, Marie and Pearce were happy in Astoria, and Dilandau would go off with his Slayers in search of adventure.

Maybe his borrowed time would come to an end.

Dropping his cloak to reveal a shirtless torso, Folken released his wings, letting the large feathery extensions of himself curve around his body and insulate him from the cool weather. Folken stared at the raven feathers resting over his body like a fluffy robe.

Black wings.

So what was he supposed to be now? An Angel of Death?

He breathed deeply of the crisp night air and leaned against the stone wall behind him. Perhaps he should go find Marie. She always told him: "It's not healthy to mope, and when you feel a good sulk coming on, come to me."

Folken smiled, thinking of the redhead and her chirpy voice that put toads to shame when she sang. Yes, he'd go see what Marie was up to.

He froze when he heard someone entering his room. He'd forgotten to lock the door... again. He tried to retract his wings in vain, knowing it would take too long.

"Folken, I need you to look at... Holy mother of..." Dilandau rushed out onto the balcony and stopped, staring. "Folken?"

Folken winced a bit as he finished pulling in his wings, and held out a hand to calm Dilandau. Dilandau took a step back, magenta eyes wide with shock. "Dilandau, it's all right."

Dilandau took another step back, feeling behind him for the door. "What are you?"

"Nothing that's going to hurt you," Folken said softly, hurt by Dilandau's reaction. This was why he and Van had never been allowed to let people see their wings. The world feared Draconians, thought they were demons. "I'm the same as I always was; only now, you've seen my wings."

"Your black wings..." Dilandau uttered. "You looked like Death standing there, Folken. You... you're not, are you?"

The boy had stopped retreating, but came no closer to Folken. He was trying to understand.

"No, Dilandau. I'm not Death. Do you know what a Draconian is?"

"Make believe," Dilandau whispered.

Folken shook his head. "No. They're not make believe. My mother was a Draconian, and I– and Van– are half Draconian. That is why I have wings, Dilandau."

Dilandau's eyes narrowed a bit. "Draconians have black wings?"

Folken looked skyward for a moment, before answering, "No, they have white wings for the most part. My wings used to be white. I don't know why they've turned black, or when exactly it happened. I fear I don't know as much about Draconians as I'd like. Much of that part of my heritage will remain a mystery to me."

Dilandau crossed his arms over his chest, examining Folken for a moment before finally coming closer. "So, you're a mystery like me?"

Folken smiled lightly in relief at Dilandau's apparent acceptance of him. "Not quite like you, Dilandau. Yours is a mystery that can be solved, and mine is one that cannot, not in this lifetime I don't think."

"Your mother was the last of that race?"

"Yes," Folken nodded, "she was."

Dilandau stood next to him now, fiddling with his telescope and smirking at him slyly. "You're not looking into windows with this thing, are you Folken?"

Folken wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. A secret that would make a normal person wary with fear or flame with prejudice, Dilandau took in stride and brushed aside like Folken had told him what was for dinner.

"Was there something that you wanted, Dilandau?"

Dilandau's teasing expression faded and he looked down at his hands. Slowly, he brought up the left one. "What's this?"

Folken took the hand, turning it over and sighing at the first sign of Dilandau's body rejecting the transfusion. He gazed at Dilandau sadly, not needing to say anything.

"What's next, Folken?"

"We get an antiserum into you." Folken slipped his cloak back on and gestured for Dilandau to follow him.

"And then?"

"We start again." But I have a feeling we're going to need more than blood. Looked like he was going to get to spend the evening with Marie after all.

---

The room was lit by a sole lantern, emitting a blue flame. She sat in a hard, backless, wooden chair in a mild daze that was slowly lifting. She'd been staring at the steel toed boots on her feet, but finally raised her eyes to address the other person that she knew was in the room.

A tall beast man with light blue eyes and the golden face of a lion stood at attention by the wall, near a door, staring at her as he had been since he'd entered moments earlier. He was dressed and armed like a soldier and he waited for her to speak to him.

Valeska shuddered at the slight twinge of familiarity she felt for the creature that was quickly stifled by more confusion. This wasn't her room– and where were her Gorgons?

"Where am I?" She stammered, nearly jumping at the hollow sound of her own voice. She bowed her head, letting light blond curls fall into her eyes as she studied the small, round table in front of her with a bottle of vino and a full glass set out. Had she poured that for herself? Valeska couldn't remember.

"The floating fortress Delate," the beast man answered in a gruff voice.

Valeska frowned. Delate? She'd never heard of it.

"Where are my soldiers? Why aren't they briefing me?"

"They're dead... sir."

Dead? A breath hitched in her throat. "All of them?"

"Yes sir."

Valeska scowled hard, the information soaking in slowly and causing her to shake. "All of them."

"Yes sir."

All of them. How had that happened? What had they done? Why couldn't she remember? Valeska grabbed her head, arching her back and curling until her elbows touched her knees.

She'd gotten them all killed.... No, no, they had been stupid and gotten themselves killed. Ungrateful, treacherous, little bastards, all of them. They hadn't even wanted her for a leader...

And now they were dead.

Good riddance.

Valeska straightened up, sliding off of her chair and testing her legs, pleased to find them strong and willing to hold her weight. She stared at the beast man once again, tilting her head to one side and sneering at him. "And who are you?"

"I am Jajuka," the lion answered.

"Jajuka?" Valeska let the name roll off her tongue. Jajuka. What a silly name, yet it was... comforting?

"I am a soldier under your command. I alone," Jajuka said, still at attention with eyes only for her.

"You alone, huh? Are you worthy, Jajuka? Are you willing to fight and die for me?" Valeska demanded, narrowing her eyes and taking a step forward. Her overcoat was open and she was not ashamed of the fact that she wore nothing underneath but a thin cotton shirt that did little more than cover her breasts.

Jajuka's gaze was steady, his facial expression never changing. "I am worthy, Lord Valeska."

"I trust that my new guymelef is ready?" Because her old one had been destroyed; hadn't it?

"Yes sir."

She gave a crooked smile then, readjusting her armored jacket on her shoulders and snapping it closed properly.

"I haven't fought in a long time, and I'm ready for some action. What are my orders?"

"We're to join the Bronze army to ship out to Basram."

"And do what?"

"Annihilate the army there."

Valeska laughed. "Those are my kind of orders. And after that?"

"We take Astoria's Eastern border and invade. We've been given word that they are harboring Zaibach criminals ex Folken Strategos and former Captain, Dilandau Albatou."

"Dilandau?" Valeska cackled. "Well, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it? When can we leave?"

---

Author's Note: I told you it was long! Lol! So how was it? Good? Bad? Absolutely dreadful? Let me know! Thanks for reading and Happy Holidays!